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aliveinacoffin · 10 months

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REQUESTTTT The reader is a new teacher at UA and tries getting on all the teachers good side but aizawa is so good at keeping his emotions hidden she doesn’t know if he likes her. After the training camp incident they move into dorms and she lives with aizawa but they have seperate rooms to sleep in but everything else is shared. And during this time Aizawa “hating” her more as he always lectures her and gets mad at her so she’s convinced he practically hates her. She ends up hating him too cause he starts making her do more work. He ends up training her and she hates him even more since he wasn’t going easy and just gave her bruises or something. Then one day she was in the lounge room for their shared dorm area and she was doing something and aizawa helps her do it and BAM. she develops a crush and…. (Add ur own ending and twists because I know I’ll love it 💕💗) (also sorry this is long)

omg this seems so cute in a like, angry old man way if that makes sense LMAO, I hope you don't mind that I gave reader a quirk,,,,I felt it wouldn't make sense if she didn't

Hating You As Well

PT1(right here ^*^), PT2, PT3

You were honestly just trying to make some friends at work, but this one guy is just soo RRRR, how are you supposed to deal with that?

(i didn't want to make him too mean, but I didn't want to make him nice, obviously, so instead he's socially awkward and stand-offish and dumb, I hope that's not too far off from what you wanted ^-^)

Fem!Reader, She/Her pronouns

TW: slight, very slight angst i guess, arguing, semi depictions of violence and gore, stupid aizawa

UA.

It was the top hero school in all of Japan, and thanks to people like All Might, known in high regard nationally.

So, when you got your call back that you got accepted as the history teacher, you actually screamed. Literally jumping up and down, screaming and crying in pure, unfiltered happiness that you got the job. Of course, you opened your phone to tell someone, anyone, that you got your literal dream job, but you stopped. It's not that you didn't have anyone to tell, it's just that you didn't have anyone who wasn't your family to tell. For a second, it saddened you, but you didn't wallow in your sadness, no! Right then and there, you promised yourself that you'd befriend everyone you could at UA, even the terrifying principle.

So that's how you got here, holding the biggest plate filled with snacks from peanuts to cake while nervously walking into the conference room.

Principal Nedzu had given you a personal tour of the school after he called you, but you had personally never met the other staff members. You can't help but think your principal did that on purpose. After wandering for a short moment, you were still new so you deserved some slack, you found your destination. But something held you back, standing awkwardly in front of the door. You could hear the muffled voices and music coming from the room, its friendly aura spilling out from the hallway.

You were only a little nervous, years of being a high-ranking pro instilled a natural confidence in you, but the small thought of not making any friends slightly unnerved you. Well, better get on with it. You took a deep breath and opened the door, and while the music didn't stop, you felt like it did.

All eyes were on you in an instant, the chatter ceased and everyone turned to look at you.

After a pregnant pause, you spoke up first. "This...is the staff party, right?" Your voice came out squeaker than you wanted to, and the answer to your question seemed rather obvious.

"Yeah it is! You must be the newbie, right?" Present Mic was the first to speak up, his smile wide and infectious. Others giggled around them, all the attention on you was less negative and more positive, a newfound excitement in the air.

"Yes, I'm unfortunately the newbie. Can I set this down anywhere?" You lifted up your large platter of food, and the loud blonde practically drooled.

"I'll take that from you." He swiftly took the food out of your hands and started digging in while trying to find a place to set it down.

Midnight strolled up to you, a small smile on her face. "I'm Nemuri Kayama. Don't worry, you're not the only new staff member this year. Not only do we have All Might, but we have Toshinori Yagi too. Yagis kinda shy, he's just been kinda hanging out in the back." Kayama nodded her head to the far right corner, where the aforementioned man was just...standing alone, almost literally in the corner.

"Oh, well, that makes me feel a little better." You hid your guilty smile with your hands, not only were you glad that you weren't the only new staff member, but that you weren't the most awkward one in the room.

"Plus, it's great to have another girl on the team, it's a real sausage fest in here." She groaned, dramatically holding her head in her hand. Looking around, you realized she was right. There was a 1:9 female-to-male ratio. The male staff members greatly outnumbered the female to an embarrassing degree, but it made sense. Males unfairly dominated the hero field, and even if there was a strong female pro hero, more often than not, she was either treated as a joke or made to be crazy masculine. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but more often than not, it's not by choice, since to be taken seriously, they have to act meaner and tougher than originally wanted.

"I see what you mean, Jesus." There was a playful tone in your voice, showing no real contempt or malice.

"I'm the modern art history teacher, by the way, in case you didn't know." Kayama fully introduced herself, holding out her hand for you to shake. You gratefully took it, marveling at just how soft her hand was.

"Oh! I'll be the new history teacher, guess we're kind of twins. And I'm sorry to fangirl, but I really appreciate all your work." You gushed unashamed.

"Oh I don't mind, I also really appreciate your work! Your quirk is rather interesting, and the way you handle yourself out there is nothing to scoff at." Kayama smiled, giving you the same energy as you put out.

You blushed, compliments like that were not unusual but from one of your idols, no less? It was like a dream come true.

"Thank you, it just comes naturally, you know?" You tried to wave her off, basically saying it's nothing compared to you.

Your quirk was rather unconventional in what it was. You could manipulate the light around you, bending and manipulating the light waves and atoms. You could literally touch rays of light and bend it like a straw, plus you could take it away and 'store it' in your body. It was funny when you took too much because you became a living nightlight. Though to do it, you needed to be physically touching the rays, so you wore a rather lightweight suit with no gloves and no shoes. Hey, who needs to walk on water when you could walk on light?

Your suit was rather skimpy, maybe a reason that both you and Kayama attracted each other. You basically wore a swimsuit, with a crop top shirt that stopped at your shoulders, and basically boy short underwear for a bottom. However, you could barely see your 'pants' because of the pockets that lined the entire thing. Another cool thing you could do with your quirk is you could store the light in physical pockets that you had.

"Well, I'd only assume. I'm glad that someone like you is on the team, and I'm sure I'm not the only one." Kayama looked over your shoulder, and just as you were about to turn to where she was looking, strong arms almost tipped you over.

"Heya newbie!" A light and bubbly voice yelled in your ear, you could only wonder who it was. Peeking over, Present Mic was smiling in your face, spikey hair and sunglasses almost directly in your face. "I'm Hizashi Yamada, and I don't really care for formalities, so you can just call me Hizashi!" He pushed himself off of you and was pumping up his arms in the air. Hizashi still had some crumbs on his face, and you couldn't help but laugh at his outlandish introduction.

Soon after him, one by one each staff member introduced themselves formally, telling you their real names and what they teach. In turn, you gushed and fawned over each one, calm but bright energy attracting everyone to you. Like moths to a light. Heh, get it?

Still, it was great. Even the shy Yagi comes up to you to politely introduce himself, an unspoken bond formed because it was both your first year teaching.

All but one.

A grumpy sleeping bag resting below an open window pointedly ignored all the noise and commotion going on. Determined, you walked over and leaned over the yellow lump to see if a person was even in there.

"Yes?" A dark voice drawled, and in an anti-climatic movement, the sleeping back slowly turned over. You were greeted with the image of a man in his late 20s or early 30s, with dark wild hair and a patchy 5 o'clock shadow. You nearly jumped back, but you kept your composure. You leaned over with your hands on your hips, your stomach pudging at the position.

"I was just checking if you were a person." A heavy cough behind you made you flinch, "If you were a living creature." You could hear a small 'better!' from somewhere in the background. You could swear there was a flash of a smirk on the mysterious man's face. But just as soon as it was there, it was gone in an instant.

"Well, I'm alive if that's what you're wondering." He quickly turned over, but you didn't move away. In fact, you stayed in the same exact position. "What?" His muffled voice made you giggle, and you stood up to stretch your back.

"I don't know your name. I can introduce myself first if you want?" You offered, trying not to seem as stand-offish as he was.

"I'm Ereaserhead. A homeroom teacher." That was all he offered of himself.

Hizashi popped up from behind you, pulling you away from the grump. "That's Shouta Aizawa, don't mind him, he's always this cranky."

You smiled and shook your head, "I don't mind, he seems interesting." Shrugging your shoulders as you walked away, you missed the rustling of his sleeping bag as he turned to watch you walk away.

___________________________________________

Turns out, Shouta Aizawa was interesting. Also, a major asshole, give or take.

All the teachers were stationed to watch different cameras for the entrance exam. Of course, there were hundreds of other workers with designated cameras and areas, the teachers were mostly there to get an overview and get a general of the upcoming class of students. You and Hizashi happily discussed what students you both wanted, Aizawa was muttering on how reckless and idiotic they all were.

"Hey c'mon dude, give them a break! Most of them don't even know what they're doing." You tried, leaning back in your rolly chair to take a peek at him. Aizawa barely spared you a glance, angrily sipping at his coffee.

"That's the problem, they're clueless and delusional. Especially that one, he's an idiot for going after the zero-point robot, and it's the only robot he's gone after." He pointed to a glowing student flying up in the air, the boy reeled his arm back to deliver a K.O punch to the thing.

"Hey, but he'll get points for saving a young girl." Hizashi butted in, normally spiked hair down and flowing all over the place.

"Really?" You turned back to the screen to watch a young girl get up to try and thank him, but he was out cold. "Well, even if he is a little clueless, he showed great effort and quick thinking to save a girl." You shrugged, looking back at Aizawa.

He scoffed and turned back to flickering through the cameras, taking notes along the way.

You made a face behind the underground heroes' back, before going back to take your own notes.

Later, Aizawa would review the footage of that mysterious green-haired boy to watch just how 'heroic' he was.

___________________________________________

Not soon enough, classes started. You met lots of odd and interesting students, their quirks just as amazing as the next. Each of them was either fascinated or bored with your existence, gushing about the former 30th hero. Teachers and underground heroes were placed on a different scale than billboard heroes since there wouldn't be a fair grading process. Not only did they gush about you, but they also talked about with great vigor their other classes and teachers.

This meant you quickly made aware of how Aizawa decided to conduct his first day as a teacher. Now, you knew Aizawa had been a teacher longer than you, and UA was very free with how a teacher conducted their class, but you were shocked he threatened to expel an entire class of students. His own for god sake!

(Un)Fortunately, both you and Aizawa had a free period at the same time, and you tried to take advantage of this fact.

"Sooo, some of our students talked about their first day." You started awkwardly, fiddling with your papers.

Aizawa looked over at you through a jelly packet and papers, nearly quirking an eyebrow in response.

"Did you really threaten to expel them?" You asked, a little taken aback at the mere mention of it.

"Yes, not only did I see how they performed under duress, but I saw what giving their all looks like." The whole time he spoke he was entirely focused on the papers in front of him, trying to grade the papers he already handed out the first week of school.

"Oh! That's smart, not only can you weed out all the lackluster students, you'll be able to tell when they're slacking." You snapped your fingers in recognition, proud of yourself for figuring out his odd teaching methods.

Aizawa merely grunted in response, ending the conversation with an odd air. You tapped your knees while trying to find another conversation opener.

"Hey, you know, Kayama invited us all for drinks on Friday. Celebrate the new school year, are you coming?" Truly, you did wonder if the mysterious man would go. The R-rated hero made a group chat and already asked everyone. Aizawa had just never responded, and you kinda had a feeling what his answer would be.

"I have better things to do." He grumbled, and he stood up, gathered all his papers, and just left.

"What the hell?"

___________________________________________

Turns out, no he didn't.

You had turned up fashionably late, and almost all of the staff were already there when you arrived. Shouta showed up disastrously late, stumbling in sometime after you. He slid into the booth across from you, flagging down a waiter for just a boring beer.

"I thought you had better things to do?" You questioned Aizawa, sipping at whatever fruity drink Hizashi made you try.

"I did, but those two wouldn't stop pestering me." Aizawa nodded to Kayama and Hizashi next to you, who were already buzzed and very happy.

Even at the mere mention of him, Hizashi perked up and grinned mischievously at Aizawa.

"That's not true! You just wanted to find an excuse to hang out with the new teacher!" Hizashi teased, eyebrows wiggling up and down.

Aizawa scoffed, "

"I don’t need to kiss ass with my coworkers. I’m only here to be kept in the loop of the going on here.” He muttered into his cup, face hidden by the large utensil.

Okay, wow, rude much? You rolled your eyes, “You don’t need to be an ass.” You muttered under your breath, more to yourself than anything.

“No, but I do need to be professional.” Aizawa shot back, face now in full view. He had his hair up, fringe not held down by his messy bun.

Your shoulders slouched while you gave him a ‘dude what?” look. “I've been nothing but cordial to you and others.”

“Your carefree attitude is nothing other than annoying.” Aizawa had his arms crossed now, leaning back in the booth. Everyone else was either pointedly ignoring you or just too wrapped up in their conversations to notice or care about you two.

“I've been in the top fifty before I became a teacher, I’ve seen my fair share of blood and glory. I’m sorry I’m not a robot when it comes to my students.” Scoffing, you rolled your eyes and downed the rest of your drink, its sweet flavor dampening your bad mood.

“I’m a realist, bite me.”

“You’re a pessimist, there is a difference.”

There was a heavy silence after that, Aizawa staring you down while you glared back. Neither of you broke eye contact, even when Hizashi made you get up to use the restroom, you still didn’t quit the staredown.

Fed up with the growing anger in your chest, and feeling the light around you start to bend around you, you slammed down what you owed and left.

You heard a drunk chasting voice as you left, but the steam pouring out of your ears prevented you from hearing it clearly.

___________________________________________

The last time you two talked was just as short and snappy as the last time, except now he was definitely on his high horse. He criticized your teaching methods, which pissed you off to no end because it was fucking Shouta Aizawa we were talking about, criticized how you acted, hell, he even criticized how you dressed.

You had been minding your business, making a new pot of coffee to keep you awake during the day. Footsteps behind you caught your attention, but you ignored them because you knew who it was and would rather die than deal with him right now.

“I still don’t understand how they let you walk around like that.”

Okay, ignoring over.

You turned to give him a nasty look. “Like what?”

“With barely any clothes on. What you’re wearing could be considered underwear, not a hero suit. There's no coverage.” Even though he was critiquing what you were wearing, he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was digging in the cabinets for a cup.

“And? This is what works best for my quirk, plus,” you laughed, but there was no real humor in it, “I’ve seen worse.”

“I have no idea how you’ve made it this far with such little clothing.” Aizawa shook his head like he was disappointed in you for your clothes.

“Because clothes don’t matter, it’s who's wearing them that does.” You growled, angrily pouring your cup before stomping out of the room.

That was the last conversation you had before he went off to the USJ trip. Like always it was short and angry, a routine you’d unwillingly created. Truly, Aizawa was the only teacher you didn’t get along with, all the others from Hizashi to even Lunch Rush you had become friends with. Still, now you felt guilty about it. You had arrived late in regards to everyone else, blinding and emancipating a fair amount of stranglers but otherwise caught off guard by the situation. Thankfully, students were mostly unharmed, but the two teachers who had been there had been gravely injured. You only saw a glimpse of Aizawa's injuries, but your mind jumped to conclusions when you saw Kurose’s.

You had visited Kurose earlier, giving her flowers, candy, and books to read while she recovered. For Aizawa, you managed to find out he liked black licorice, so you brought a large bag along with yellow roses. Friendship.

You arrived at his room and stood there for a moment. There was silence on the other end, save for the small and quiet beep beep beep of his heart monitor. So he lives.

You raised a hand and knocked.

“No more visitors.” He sighed from the other end, already annoyed.

You debated on just leaving, but for some reason, you opened the door and peeked in.

“It’s just me.” Your voice was small, and your eyes quickly assessed the state your asshole coworker was in.

“I said no visitors.” Aizawa's voice was just as deadpanned, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was scowling under all those bandages. His arms were cast, almost like prison cuffs rather than healing objects. Nearly his whole body was covered in white, almost blinding you.

“Well, I’m not a visitor, I’m a coworker.” You set down the flowers and candy at the table next to him and sat down in the chair across from him. Disgustingly, there was still warmth in it, and looking over to the second chair you could see the wrinkles in the seat.

“You’re an annoyance.” His bitterness came naturally, you realized now, that even when he was gravely hurt, he still managed to get under your skin.

"Is it so annoying that I wanted to see if my coworker was alive?" You asked, already pissed off.

"Well, I am, so you can leave." Aizawa tried to sit up fully, but he struggled to do so.

It was too awkward to just watch him struggle so pitifully, a man you've come to know with high pride and honor squirming around. So you got up and pressed a gentle hand on his back to guide him up, neither of you said anything while he adjusted. When Aizawa got comfortably situated, there was an awkward silence.

"How…how long are you gonna be bed-bound?"

Aizawa didn't reply right away, leaving the question to awkwardly hang in the air.

"Doctor says it typically takes twelve weeks for an arm to heal, but they can cut that time in half." His gruff voice was soft, and it was the most open thing he's said about himself since you've known him.

"I hope it doesn't take that long! I have to give up my lunch to watch your class." You tried to jest, obviously attempting to lighten the mood.

"It won't, wouldn't want you to overload your work schedule." Aizawa's deep voice was back, just as guarded as usual.

That was the breaking point, and before you said something cruel to the injured man you simply got up and headed to the door. "Just get well man." And with that, you left.

"Damn it."

___________________________________________

He came back the next day.

"What the hell man?!" You barged into Aizawa's room angrily, greeted by the sight of Hizashi force-feeding him some sort of hearty meal.

Aizawa turned to look at you, eyes visible through the bandages.

"What?"

"You're back? You said that the doctors said-"

"It would take him a minimum of six weeks to heal! We know!" Hizashi scolded, tense and angry.

"But no one can stop Aizawa, we just have to make him relax." Kayama scolded, going through his class papers. "I'll grade your quizzes, Hizashi can grade your tests and you can grade his assignments, can't you?" The dominatrix was looking at you now, holding stacks of papers that Aizawa had yet to catch up on, now made impossible with his injuries.

"How does a single man have so much work?" You set the tea you had been saving for the aforementioned man. You had barely made it this morning, something healthy to sip on while he healed. Quickly walking over you leafed through all the miscellaneous assignments both he and All Might had assigned. “I can do all of these no sweat.” You shrugged, taking them all under your arm.

“I’m fine. You’re all overreacting-”

“Don’t even say you’re fine! You just got out of the hospital!” All three of you yelled at him in disbelief. The sliding doors slid open once more, and Recoverys girl's small form waddled through, looking just angry and as disappointing as you all felt.

Wanting to get a jumpstart on grading papers, since you already had your won to grade, you walked out of the room in silence, not wanting to intrude on this unfamiliar song and dance.

___________________________________________

The next two weeks the students were buzzing with excitement, and you saw even less of Aizawa. Always just holed up in his room.

For some reason, you always left him a pot of coffee for him to drink on his desk. He never questioned it or brought it up. You never said anything either.

___________________________________________

When Aizawa fully recovered, he immediately took back all his work. He stopped by your classroom during both of your lunches.

You hadn’t even noticed him walking in, too busy with eating and marking papers with a glitter purple pen, leaving critiques, praises, hearts, and X’s

“You can stop ruining my papers with that horrible pen.” You jumped, almost falling back in your seat at the unexpected sound of Aizawa’s voice.

“Ruining? I’m decorating. I’m sorry you take even grading so seriously.” You shrugged, putting the finishing touches on Shouto Todoroki’s paper. Ending it with a ‘Good job! :D’

“It’s a distraction, you could use the effort you put in desecrating these papers into your job.” He took the paper up from your desk, skimming it before he looked at you again and sighed. “Where are the leftovers.”

“Leftovers?”

“The ones you didn’t finish, the leftovers.” He pressed like you were stupid.

You leaned back, a sense of pride and smugness filling you. “Check the date.” You smirked, eyes sharp and dangerous.

Aizawa stared at you with an unreadable expression, but you saw his eyebrows furrow just a little. He took a glance down and his eyes widened in surprise.

2XXX/5/06

Today.

“Well, then you better catch up on your own work. It’s foolish that you-”

You cut him off by showing your turn-in/graded basket, the graded side completely full.

“Try again.” Your smirk widened, hands raising in a flourish while you leaned back again.

He said nothing while his eyes flickered between all the papers in front of him, and he lifted his head again. “Then you’re probably behind on reports, those are important-”

You cut him off again, turning your computer towards him so he could see not only your completed progress reports but his as well.

“Boom bitch.” For once, you had the upper hand, getting to gloat in his face while he had nothing to say back.

“You shouldn’t use such foul language in the workplace.” Was all he could say while he gathered his papers. On his way out you called out to no one in particular.

“You’re welcome! Ah, whatever.”

You stretched your aching hands, and drank your third energy drink for the day, stomach protesting from so much caffeine on an empty stomach. You dreaded your hero shift later.

___________________________________________

There was an impromptu meeting, and at first, you were confused about what it was about, but you knew whatever it was, it was serious.

Everyone's somber faces made you nervous, and you leaned over to Hizashi and whispered in his ear. “What happened?”

“Apparently, something happened during the students' work studies, but no one can figure out what happened.” He shrugged, just as lost and unnerved you.

Aizawa stood up from the U-shaped table, going to stand in the middle while he looked off angry at nothing. “There was an incident during our first-year students' work studies. Three studies were put in harms way, coming face to face with the hero killer: Stain.”

People started to murmur, but Principal Nedzu popped up from the depths of the erasing hero's scarf.

“Now we understand your concern, as you know the situation has been dealt with. We’ve been asked by the HPSC to keep quiet and have no comment. The affected students will remain anonymous, so even if you do figure out what happened, you are required to keep quiet. You are all dismissed.” The hyperintelligent mouse hopped down and sauntered out of the room. Many staff members followed, murmuring in small groups. You, Kayama, Kurose, Hizashi, and Snipe formed your own group, staying behind to talk within yourselves.

“I knew it was a bad idea for the students to be sent off, I argued with the idea before, and now I see I should’ve fought harder.” Snipe shook his head in both frustration and disappointment.

“Well, what happened was unfortunate, but it gave other students a light into real hero work. Hard times come with drastic measures.” Kayama rebutted, though one could tell to some degree she agreed with the gun hero.

“But they’re so young, such traumatizing events should be saved for their later years.” Yamda’s voice was laced with an old sadness, and Kayama’s face fell crestfallen.

“I agree, I hope those students are well now.” You began, but the conversation was cut short by the sound of everyone's next period beginning. You waved your little group goodbye, turning around to pick up your bag and papers.

“Gossiping is unbecoming.”

You shook your head, annoyance once again festering at you. It seemed like even when you heard his voice at this point, anger consumed you. “So is lying.”

“Who lied?” Aizawa’s voice was full of disbelief, taken aback.

“The HPSC. We’re supposed to be quiet that three of our students were put in danger.” You turned around once all your papers were gathered, and you stared the man down.

“That’s not lying, we are merely setting measures to make sure the situation doesn’t get out of hand.” He shook his head like the answer was simple.

“Omitting information is lying under the law, do their parents know?”

“The affected students' parents were made aware, yes.” His monotone voice was really starting to piss you off.

“So none of the other parents know? And to what degree do they know?” For some reason you dragged out this conversation, it didn’t really matter how long this conversation went on anyway, thanks to the free period.

“That’s not your place to know.” He made no move to leave.

“It is, they’re my students too.” Taking a step forward, encroaching into his personal space, you puffed up your chest. Challenging him.

“You’re an elective teacher, they’re my students, under my care.” Aizawa didn’t back down.

“So then why did it even happen in the first place? Why send out fifteen-year-olds with a murderer on the loose?” You argued back.

“Because I didn’t know. I would’ve never let them out if I had known. Your foolishness will be the death of not only you but the students here as well.” He snapped back, violently grabbing his coffee cup, and stormed out.

His words rang over and over in your ears, and for some reason shame and anger mixed in your stomach, twisting at your insides. Stomping out of the room when you snapped out of your trance, you realized guilt also twisted up inside you.

___________________________________________

Last minute, you were invited to the training camp. At first, you were going to refuse, spend your summer break dealing with the chaotic kids that were class 1-A and 1-B? Yeah, hell no. But the promise of a pay raise eventually won you over, even if you deny this. Plus, recently you have been..lacking in your skills. So busy with being a teacher your fighting skills had diminished, and it wasn’t as if you were now suddenly helpless. You just weren’t at your peak anymore, and all you needed was that extra exercise to put that pep back in your step. So thats how you found yourself packing in the early hours of the morning to pack for the four-week-long trip.

Later in the morning, you found out who you’d be busing with. Class 1-A, or, more specifically, Shouta Aizawa. You immediately turned around at the school gates, but the sounds of students jeering at you stopped you.

“Where are you going teach?” Kaminari called after you, and Iida chastised him for the informal name.

“It’s alright Iida, I don't mind.” You placated the blue-haired boy and turned your attention back to the electric student. “Nowhere, I got roped along to the trip.” You sighed bowing your head in defeat.

“Don’t act that way, we were promised extra pay and you were the first to respond.” Aizawa chastised you, coming up from behind you all, carrying a heavy duffle bag. Even his choice of luggage was bare bones!

Kaminari gasped in hurt, holding a hand over his heart.

“No need to call me out in front of the students!” You growled, shooing him away.

___________________________________________

It took nearly an hour to corral all the students on the bus, and you and Aizawa settled at the front of the bus, both in opposite seats. You waited for the bus to get on the road, and for the students to be too distracted to notice the conversation between you and your unspoken hater to bring up a thought that started to nag you.

“Aizawa.” You were facing him, and the dark-haired man simply side-eyed you instead of acknowledging you. You ignored that. “Why am I the only elective teacher here, wouldn’t it make more sense to bring someone like Hizashi or Anan’s or even Ryo? They’re all much better equipped to be here than me.” Genuinely, this had confused you. No diss to Hound Dog, or Ryo as you’d grown to know him the past couple of months, the stress on his name was that he’d be the absolute best option here. Out in an open area where a multitude of students could get lost? Why not bring the literal hound dog?

“You’ve gotten pretty friendly with the staff.” That was his response, a non-answer, and a deflection.

“Dude, seriously? That’s what you’re hung up about? Yes, I see and communicate with them every day, and we all go out for drinks once every week. I’m pretty sure all the teachers are on a first-name basis personally except for you.” Shooting back, your hands now rested on your knees, hunched over in a defensive position.

“It’s unprofessional. Teachers shouldn’t know each other on such a personal basis.” Aizawa closed his eyes again, trying to nap his way out of the conversation.

You flung your hands up, “You’re right, god forbid I have friends.” Unwillingly, your voice got tight with emotion.

Aizawa opened his eyes fully, and faced you fully, also registering the vulnerability that was presenting in your voice and demeanor.

Even though it’s only been four months, you have grown close with your UA allies. Not only that, but they all welcomed you with open arms and held you in the same regard as you did them. You had especially grown close with Snipe, even if he didn’t tell you his name (or anyone for that matter, you tried looking it up and found articles of his secrecy, mans loves his privacy), along with Anan after USJ, and naturally gravitated towards Hizashi and other elective teachers. The reason you felt so offended by his words, why you got so close with your fellow staff was because you didn’t have other friends. You barely had a family, it was just your dad and estranged siblings, who either didn’t speak to you or didn’t really care for you.

“I just meant you shouldn’t rely so heavily on others, they won’t always be there to save you.” That was reaching, even for Aizawa.

“I don’t, and I know they won’t. You’ve made that so clear.” You swallowed thickly, a burning feeling crawling up your throat signaled you needed to shut up now or else they would be waterworks. And that would be embarrassing for everyone. Sometimes it kept you up at night that Aizawa was the only teacher you didn’t get along with. The others reassured you that he was aloof with everyone, Hizashi and Kayama just saying he was a big hardass with a big heart. But you just didn’t see it, it seemed like he was just mean to you. With people like Ryo and Anan, he was just quiet and cutthroat, but you? Just straight-up mean, brushing you off, undermining you, constantly nagging and criticizing you for everything that you did. It was annoying and frustrating since you had been nothing but nice. You genuinely wanted to be his friend, his mysterious nature and gruff attitude was cool, badass even. Plus, you couldn’t deny he wasn’t unattractive, stubble and dark hair was just so handsome. But his behavior was not. Still, you couldn’t help but seek out ways to try and get on his good side, making coffee, leaving snacks you’d found out he liked out, and taking his side whenever you could in meetings.

You didn’t bring it up again, spending the rest of the ride blinking back angry tears, or maybe it was the disappointment that he didn’t reassure you. Either way, he didn’t say anything either.

___________________________________________

Well fuck. Now you were mad at the school for trying to make the students grow up so fast, figuring out the training camp was usually only for second years due to the rigorous nature, soured your mood further. Not only that, you worried about all the children alone in the woods.

“They’ll be fine.” Aizawa placed a strong hand on your shoulder, and while it made your heart jump, it also pissed you off more.

“It’s a pretty big fuckin forest, what if they get lost or something not part of the exercise attacks them?” You stepped forward, trying to peek at the mess below you.

“They’ll be fine, they can handle themselves. I have no doubt.” You should trust him, Aizawa was their homeroom teacher and no doubt has seen what they can do, but it still unnerved you that these young kids were just out alone.

“I’ll just watch over them then.” You crouched on top of the messed-up fence and jumped.

You heard Mandaly shout in pure fear behind you, but her voice died as you seemingly climbed and crawled through thin air.

High above you watched their movement, keeping track of every rustle and shout. Lazily swimming in the light, arms, and legs pumping while you focused on slipping through the waves of the light. Your skin softly glowing and your body becoming lighter than air.

Somewhere far away, a dark-haired man realized the reason for such a vulnerable suit was to give you full access to your quirk. Still, you had no protection against sharp talons and dangerous attacks. Maybe, there was a better way?

___________________________________________

You didn’t arrive until late, and you were exhausted and hungry. You had almost fallen out of the air multiple times, your body ached and burned, already feeling the sunburn growing on your fingers and knees, places you used your quirk the most.

You were in the private kitchen, searching for something to eat when Mandalay handed you a plate of food.

“You look beat!”

“I feel like someone dragged me through the mud on a hot summer day.” You sighed, gratefully accepting her food, and flopped down on the plush couches.

“I can imagine. I didn’t know what your quirk was, so you scared me when you just jumped. Thankfully Eraserhead explained it to me.” She sighed, shaking her short brown hair.

That made you perk up, “He did?”

“Yeah! He seemed to know a lot about it! You must be very close. Oh, the teacher's dorms are just down the hall, we have our own spring and private bathrooms.” She dug into her food and scrolled through her phone.

Weird.

___________________________________________

You were so glad you weren’t a student anymore.

They were really putting students through the wringer, making them get up early and push themselves to their absolute limits. You and Aizawa stood side by side while you watched over the students, you took notes and he watched dutifully. Your fingers and knees were stinging like a bitch now, skin peeling off quickly, leaving your skin raw and sensitive.

“Looks like you could use endurance training as well.” Here we go.

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes. “They’re only like this because towards the end I had to really look for light, it got dark fast and I had been using my quirk nonstop for eight hours. Let me see you do that.” You didn’t see Aizawa's shocked face, and you had stunned him into silence.

“I couldn’t.”

You looked up, and stared at him in confusion. “Couldn’t what?”

“Use my quirk for that long. I can only use it for thirty minutes to an hour now, even if I strain.” Aizawa shrugged as if that wasn’t absolutely horrifying news.

“Since when?” You abandoned your notes now, giving Aizawa all of your attention.

“After USJ. Doctor said the more I strain, the worse it gets. Plus, my eyes are dryer than before, so it makes it harder to keep them open for so long.” Aizawa wasn’t looking at you, instead opting to stare ahead, facial expression carefully neutral.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Your voice was quiet, and his adams apple bobbed.

“There was no reason to cause unnecessary worry.”

“Still that’s…really fucking shitty. I’m sorry dude.”

Aizawa regretted telling you, not being able to stand that sad, kicked puppy look. Hated the reason being him.

“There’s no reason to cause a fuss, such things happen all the time. You should get used to it.”

“Never mind.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite in your tone. He finally looked at you when you said that, your empathy replaced with slight annoyance.

___________________________________________

The next day was much of the same, with both homeroom teachers pushing and critiquing their classes to do and be better. Aizawa’s speech about being better had warmed your heart, and for the first time since you’d known the closed-off man you saw just how much he cared for his students. All he wanted from them was to grow and be better, he was strict out of love and care. It was beautiful in a weird way, but your moment was broken when Midoriya questioned why they were the only teachers there. When he walked away from the inspired green-haired boy, you stopped him in his tracks.

“Hold on.” You skipped in front of the dark teacher, standing your ground. “If All Might isn’t here to not draw attention, and other staff weren’t invited so as to not leak the location of the new grounds, why am I here?” You questioned, encroaching on his personal space to get him to finally answer you.

“It was thought you’d be a good choice to watch over the students.” Again, deflective and a not good answer. He started to walk away, but you followed closely by his side.

“Okay sure, we’ll go with that. But why me? Again, what about Ryo? Or Ectoplasm? They’re much better for wide search and rescue than I am.” You argued.

“You are also independently efficient, not needing the incentive to work hard. Plus, your relationship with the students is..friendly. You work well with the Pussy Cats with your open nature.” Again, he was pointedly not looking at you.

“It sounds like you asked me to be here.” You started to tease, a sense of pride at the indirect/direct praise.

“You were paid to be here, now are you going to waste my time with pointless questions or are you going to do your job.” Aizawa snapped, and that quickly dampened your mood. Note to self, don't tease Aizawa.

Pixie Bob announced that there would be a test of courage later. You were so-so to the idea, knowing you were probably just going to be hanging out in the hot springs anyway, the dark not really being your strong suit.

___________________________________________

It smelt like shit.

That was the first thought in your head when you stepped outside, seeking fresh air. How weird, 1-B must really be going all out to scare 1-A. You were unfortunately still in your hero suit, only barely getting back to your room. Somewhere in the building, you knew Sekijiro and Aizawa was teaching their remedial class, and outside the Pussy Cats were watching over the courage course. So, lazily you walked to the kitchen, planning on getting a light snack before you took a dip in the hot spring, not being able to yesterday. Suddenly you jumped, a feeling of ice dumping all over you. Everyone! Mandalay’s shrill voice suddenly yelled in your head, you stopped immediately to look up. It’s possible there are more. Everyone who can move, get back to camp immediately! Even if you come across the enemy, retreat and do not engage! You felt the telepath end immediately, and your feet moved faster than your mind. You could hear the echoes of your feet slapping across the tile. Legs pumping and knees screaming in protest as you raced to the entrance.

You had no idea what was happening, but you knew the students were in danger.

The front door came into your sight, and you burst through the doors and were greeted by a horrifying sight. A half-burnt and rotten man blasted Aizawa in a white-hot flame, and on instinct, you tackled him to the ground.

He seemed unbothered by all of this and even chuckled. “You guys really are pros.”

You looked up to where he was looking and saw Aizawa crouching in the doorway above the entrance. Momentarily distracted, you missed the villain's hands coming up. He roughly grabbed the side of your face, digging his hot staples into your hair.

“Nothing's coming out.” He pouted, like a child. Knowing you wouldn't have your quirk either, you flipped him over and grabbed the back of his head. You dug your nails as hard as you could, and reeled back. With all your might, you slammed his face into the ground, shoving it down like a dog who pissed on the carpet.

The man dug his dirty fingernails into the innermost sensitive part of your thigh and dug, his staples ripping into you while you squirmed.

You yelled out, and he used that to his advantage to flip you over. Aizawa quickly came up behind him, swiftly kicking the back of his head to straddle the back of him. Aizawa clutched his head and arm, still using his quirk.

“Tell me your name, purpose, number, and positions.” He growled out.

“Why.” The villain deadpanned.

“Because this-” Aizawa broke his arm in one quick movement, “will happen, your rights next. Let’s do this logically.” He lifted his head up, but his grip and gaze never faltered. “If I get your legs, it’ll be a pain to transport you.”

“Are we in a rush, Eraser,” The man made eye contact when he called out your hero name, and it sent a chill down your spine. The end of his spikey hair caught alight. Aizawa pounded his head in the ground a couple of times to stop him.

Rustling caught both yours and Aizawa's attention, and an out-of-breath Iida, Mineta, Koda, and Ojiro made you panic.

In a moment of weakness, the man lunged forward, but Aizawa quickly caught him. He strained for a moment before he whipped around to stare you both down.

“Hey heroes,” His gaze was manic and crazed. “Are your students important?” Then he started to melt. “I hope you can protect them all till the end.” He disappeared through the ground, his body left a mush.

The group rushed towards you, calling out for both of you.

“Get inside! I’ll be back!” Aizawa took off without you, so you quickly took the porch and hallway light and followed him.

“Wait!” You called out after him, knees still screaming in protest, your fingers now burning with the aftermath of stealing the light.

“What are you doing? You’re better off in the building!” He yelled at you.

“I was a billboard pro before this, I can handle myself!”

“Oh yeah, you really proved that back there. Truly pathetic.” He snarled back, and you ran faster.

“Fuck you! Nothing I do makes you happy!” Your fighting was cut short by Midoriya suddenly appearing, a scared Kota on his back. “Midoriya-”

The boy called out to the both of you, “It’s horrible! There’s so much I need to tell you.” He was out of breath, his arm mangled and red.

“Hey-” Aizawa started, slightly out of breath as well.

“First we need to make Mandalay make an announcement- He has a water quirk, you have to protect him!” Midoriya cut him off, words rushed and slightly panicked.

He’s pumped full of adrenaline. Midoriya needed to calm down.

He tried to run off, but Aizawa stopped him. “Stop! Your arm…you did it again, didn’t you? Did you forget what happened in Hosu?”

Midorya was lost in thought for a moment, and you and Kota stood confused. Your thigh was starting to have its own heartbeat, and you could feel the heat of the injury. You’ve gotten hurt worse, scars on your back a testament to that, but he had gotten a sweet spot in your leg. It was shaky and losing blood at a moderate pace, still, Midoriya, a student, was in a worse state and still pressing on. You’d live through worse and been fine, this would be no different.

“No, but…” The green-haired boy trailed off.

“So tell Mandalay this, everyone in classes A and B, you are granted permission to engage in combat.” With that, all parties took off, Aizawa turning to the woods and Midoryia back to camp. You followed Aizawa dutifully, pockets full of light providing some light in the darkness.

You could tell thoughts were racing in his mind, but the older man kept his thoughts to himself.

Kota's weak voice broke the tense silence. “Mister, will he be okay? I hurt him, and he still got up hurt to rescue me...I haven't even told him sorry or thank you yet.” Tears were now spilling from his wide eyes, and his grip on Aizawa's scarf tightened as big emotions consumed his small body. Before Aizawa could respond, you replied for him, not trusting him to say something to soothe his emotions.

“Of course, Kota, Midoryia is a strong hero, after all of this is done, you can properly apologize. I’m sure he’s forgiven you already.” You gave him your big winning smile, face lighting up in reassurance.

“Still, after this, we’ll have to scold him for acting without permission, so make sure you put emphasis on your thank you.” Aizawa said, running to find a place to keep the young child safe.

___________________________________________

“Where are we going?” You called out to Aizawa, the chaos around you making you nervous.

“To the camp, I need to get Kota to safety.” While he was talking, you all broke out of the woods and rushed into the building. Aizawa gently set the boy down, and you both took a breather. The sounds of yelling caught both of your attention, and you groaned. “We just can’t catch a break, can we?”

Aizawa shot you a glare and ran ahead, you still chasing after him. Rushing into the remedial class you saw that burnt man again, Aizawa jumped ahead to try and calm Sekijiro down and disarm the villain. You rushed ahead while his class cheered for him, and started to do horrid damage on the burnt man, smashing his head so hard into the ground it cracked the tile. Students yelled out horrified, but Aizawa cut them off.

“It won’t matter, it’s a fake.” They all watched in horror as the man melted beneath your fingers, but you didn’t stop punching into the ground, taking all your anger out on the slush.

“Is it a villains quirk.” Iida still hadn’t looked away, curious and slightly disgusted by the mess.

“What are you two doing here?” Sekijiro called out to both you and Aizawa, getting both of your guys attention.

“I rushed out to aid in the fight, but I ended up escorting Kota back to base. Please watch over him.” He was pointedly looking at you now, and it pissed you off. “I’m going to help on the front lines.” He tried to rush out, but Sekijiro stopped him.

“Ereaser, we don't know how many there are or how powerful they’re coming at us.” Aizawa turned around.

“You’ll be fine by yourselves, plus look, the fake was merely a diversion. They’re trying to distract us pros to make up for their meager number.” Aizawa shook his head.

“If there isn't that many of them, that’s even more of a reason for me-” Kirishma butted in, voice full of emotion.

“Yes! Nothing beats strength in numbers!” Iida interrupted, filled with the same determination.

“No.” Aizawa's voice was firm, almost scary at how strong he spoke. “If they’re trying to keep us back, then they’re going after you.” The students deflated at his words. “Bakugo’s just one of them, but there might be others as well. We are still losing by a lot with our lack of information. For now, we’ll win by everyone being safe and sound.” He rushed back out to join the fray, with you not too far behind.

“Why are you still following me? You’re better back there.” Aizawa growled out to you, running through the dark.

“Because I’m a pro. I was accepted to teach at UA for a reason.” You were now frustrated, but now it was hard to tell whether it was because of Aizawa, or because of your fuck up at the beginning. You had been caught off guard by a simple attack, and if it weren’t for Aizawa's erasing quirk, you would have been caught on fire because you got distracted.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

You said nothing in response, any response died on your lips when you saw the leftover disaster that was left.

We lost.

___________________________________________

The damage that was left behind was both humiliating and haunting. Both a student and a pro went missing, one who had left with a considerable amount of injuries. Fifteen students had poison running through their veins, or were injured and had to be taken to immediate care. You were questioned by the police for hours while they desperately tried to figure out any information they could. You were of no help, and you knew that the only information you could give was of that patchwork-face guy with a weird melting/fire quirk.

You, Sekijiro, and Aizawa sat in silence while the police officer made a phone call to god knows who. Your thigh was really starting to hurt now, but you made no move to complain knowing the students had it worse than you.

Sekijiro called out to you, and you snapped out of your thoughts to look at him. “Your thigh, are you alright? You look like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” He pointed to your injury, and you didn’t even look down to check.

“It’s fine, just a scratch.” You shook your head, mind filling with self-deprecating thoughts. Even if you had gotten 30th on the billboards, did you deserve it? Popularity had a lot to do with the point system, and your outwardly friendly attitude along with your flashy quirk made good product revenue. Plus, even if you weren’t weak, you realized that now was the first time you faced a real threat. The symbol of peace always being there to pick up the real messes and leave heroes like you to pick up the crumbs.

“It looks infected already.” He wouldn’t drop it, and you finally gave it to look down.

“I’m fine-” You stopped, your innermost thigh caked in dried blood and dirt, and it looked like the villain really got in there.

Later in the hospital, a nurse who was stitching you up pulled out a staple that was lodged deep in your leg.

___________________________________________

“Stop fussing, you look a mess.”

“Oh I’m sorry that I’m nervous.”

For the past few days, all anyone could talk about was the incident at the camp. It wasn’t as if you could blame them, the most prestigious hero school in the country had landed twenty-seven students in the hospital. In response, all teachers involved along with the principal were asked to make an apology, broadcasted all across Japan. The suit you wore was lightly uncomfortable, a little too tight for your liking. Plus, you were constantly pulling down the skirt, someone had gotten you a size too small. Or maybe you were searching for an excuse to fuss and squirm.

You and Aizawa hadn’t talked about the incident. Not that you needed to, you weren’t a couple, let alone friends, but there was an unknown tension in the air. Sekijiro had checked up on you, and had asked how your leg was.

“It’s fine, just needed stitches and a kiss from Recovery Girl, and now I’m good to go.”

Some part of you was angry that the dark-haired man didn’t reach out to you, but it was fine. It wasn’t but it was.

Aizawa shot you a look, and you quickly shut up. Sekijiro next to you just bumped your knee in reassurance.

“We’re live.” The man in the middle of the room called out, signaling for you all to stand up and speak.

“We deeply apologize for our shortcomings during the incident that allowed harm to twenty-seven first years in the hero course because of our shortcomings. We apologize for creating unease in our society because of our negligence in proper defense in our place of learning.” You all bent over in an apology, and you bowed the deepest. “We are truly sorry for the damage we’ve done.” You all stood back up straight, waiting for questions.

A man spoke out from within the crowd. “Since the beginning of the year, the UA students have had four encounters with villains. What specific countermeasures are you taking to ensure the safety of our students?” His voice was growing in volume the more he spoke, getting more and more passionate as he went on.

“Our students are of top-most importance, we will work even harder as a team to make sure they are strong enough to become great heroes.” A non-answer, Aizawa really was good at deflecting.

Another man stood up, holding a mic and paper. “During the incident, it appears you encouraged the students to fight. What was your intention behind this?”

Aizawa leaned forward to speak into the mic.

“I concluded that because we were unable to fully grasp the situation, it had to be done to avoid the worst possible outcome.”

“What do you mean, ‘worst possible outcome?’” Damn it, now they were gonna dig and pry and use any answer to get under your guys’ skin to try and get the upper hand. “You don’t call twenty-six victims and one abducted the worst possible outcome?”

“My assumption was that the villains would drive out students to their absolute limit and be killed.” Aizawa replied cooly, but you saw his own hands clench tighter and tighter with every word.

Principle Nedzu spoke up, though he was sitting in his chair with his arms crossed. “The gas attack accounts for most of the injuries. We concluded it was merely a sleeping gas from one of the enemies' quirks’. Thankfully, the quick response of Ms. Kendo and Mr. Tetsutetsue led to no grave injuries in the attack. In addition, mental support is being given to all the students, but at the moment, we see no signs of serious psychological damage done.” His voice was light, and while it wasn’t its usual cheery tone, it was calm and soothing.

“Are you saying this was a bright spot in this tragedy?” The reporter shot back, trying to twist the words of the principal.

“We believed the worst outcome is one that would’ve infringed on the future.”

“Can you say the same for the kidnapped Bakugo? He enrolled in UA High with excellent marks and won first place at the sports festival. In addition, during the incident with the sludge villain in middle school, he resisted the powerful villain alone. He has a history of showing how tough and heroic he is. On the other hand, the violence he showed in the finals and his attitude during the award ceremony shows that he is not always mentally stable. What if the villains kidnapped him because they had an eye on him? Kidnapping him with deceitful words and dying him with the path of evil?” The reporter's long rant was not only pissing you off but your allies as well. The more and more the reporter went on, the more serious he got like he was uncovering some big truth about a fifteen-year-old. “What evidence do you have for saying he has a future?”

Oh hell no. How dare a stranger assume the life of some kid with anger issues? You’ve spent nearly every day with the kid, even if you don’t have him all day you’ve seen a glimpse into Kastuki Bakugo's life. He was emotionally unstable, but he really did have a hero's heart, even if his asshole-ish nature offset that. Aizawa stood up, and you prayed he wouldn’t pop off and snap at the reporter.

Instead, he bowed down and apologized. “As an educator, I take full responsibility for Kastuki Bakugo's violent behavior. However, his actions at the sports festival originate in what he considers ‘ideal strength’. He is trying harder than anyone in his pursuit of becoming the ‘top hero.’” Aizawa peeked up from his bowed form, eyes hard and sharp. “If the villains thought they had an opening, then I believe they are being short-sighted.”

There was a tense silence, everyone swallowing the weight of Aizawa's words. Even you were amazed at such a declaration of truth and care.

The reporter meekly lifted up his mic once more. “That is not evidence, though. It isn't a question of how you feel-”

You wanted to throw yourself across the table and throttle him. Thankfully your principal spoke up once more before you could ruin your career. “We are not standing around idly by. We will definitely get our student back.” The interview/apology was ended after that, you and Sekijiro mostly there just because you were there.

“Aizawa wait.” You sighed, heels quickly clicking after him. All you trying to avoid the rush of questions that flew out in response to the abrupt end. “Your speech was inspiring. I have no idea how you kept your cool while that asshole dissed your student.”

“I had no choice, flying off the handle or having a weak moment would do no good." You couldn’t help but feel like that was a dig to you. “They were only trying to get under our skin.”

You immediately became guarded once more, and you stopped back to leave the other way. “Well, I just came by to praise you, have a good day.” You felt disappointed that all he said to you was something negative, hoping for once to have a decent conversation.

___________________________________________

You had to move into dorms for the rest of the school year, possibly longer if Nedzu saw fit. The meeting was awfully boring, Nedzu was currently going over how the dorms will be set up and students expectations as well as teachers. “Blah blah blah dont fuck up the dorms blah blah blah set up good examples for the students blah blah blah don’t bring over random people and please don’t have loud relations with your coworkers-” Wait what-

The meeting ended, and everyone packed up their bags while having light conversations with the others. You walked over to Yamda snickering, face in disbelief.

“Hey Hizashi, what was that last part?” You asked breathlessly, a laugh on your lips.

Hizashi snickered beside you, and Nemuri smiled and shook her head. “Principal Nedzu basically asked us not to not have one-night stands and to not have loud sex with each other.”

“Oh my god.” You covered your mouth with your hand, doubling over in an effort to hide your laughter. Hizashi had no shame was laughing manically, Nemuri was just smiling and shaking her head disappointingly beside you.

___________________________________________

‘Roommates’ were hand-picked by the principal, based on the quiz he had created and forwarded to all the staff members. You had honestly answered all the questions, and were now riding the elevator up into your new home. Someone told you (Hizashi) that the apartments were apparently floor-through plan, a luxury floor plan really. The whole floor was dedicated to the rooming, and it was awesome. You didn’t know who your roomie was, the principal keeping that secret as a ‘Fun surprise!’ The elevator dinged, and you hurriedly pushed all your boxes out in the small hallway, pressing the ‘keep doors open’ button over and over. Luckily it was the last of the boxes, all your clothes, decorations, and miscellaneous cooking wear. Being promised that things like couches, beds/bed frames, and microwaves would be provided. You still brought over things like spoons/forks/butter knives and real knives, plus plates and cups.

You went to open the door, panting from all the exertion but realized it was already locked. So your roomie was already here..? You fished out the key from the bags you brought and unlocked the door. Opening the door you expected your roomie to have already decorated (you kinda expected it to be Hizashi, both of you bounced off each other pretty well) but the kitchen looked untouched.

Opening the door more, you saw the dining room and living room bare, as well as the hallway.

Maybe they hadn’t had time to decorate?

You shrugged and started to push the boxes in, too tired to lift them up and move them again.

“You’ll scratch the floor like that.” Your whole body froze, a dark gloom falling over you. That familiar irritating voice.

You looked up slowly, face contorted in a forced smile.

Aizawa Shouta.

“What are you doing here?” There was no way, in all of Nedzu's wisdom and knowledge that you and Aizawa were roommates. For the rest of the year. Or maybe, the rest of your career.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re roommates.” He shrugged like an open admission wasn’t a death sentence.

“But, how is that allowed, we’re different genders?” You literally wouldn’t have minded if your roomie was the same gender or not, but it was the fact that it was him.

“Gender doesn’t equate to things like sexuality or self-restraint. Are you saying we shouldn’t be roommates because you cannot-” How he said this with a blank face bewildered you.

“No! I’m just saying we don’t work well together, we can’t go a single conversation without going for each other's necks.” You cut him off, now becoming bewildered.

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to show some self-restraint in other ways.” He shrugged and turned to go back into the room he already chose, which was annoying because why did he get first pick?

“Okay woah wait,” You followed him, the floor changing from kitchen tile to the carpet in the hallway. “I’m the one starting fights? Says the man who always has something negative to say, or who always just cuts me off and criticizes me.” He opened the door, and you saw a glimpse of his bare bedroom.

“I don’t always have something negative to say, you always have something to improve.” With that, Aizawa closed the door in your face. You growled out and angrily continued unpacking. This will be fun.

___________________________________________

Even if you were being sarcastic, living with the man was absolutely not fun. Aizawa's criticism and nagging got worse, and now he's deluded to actually fucking lecturing you like you were a kid.

You were hanging up old pictures of family members, along with scening paintings and newspapers with you in them. Aizawa came out of his room, baggy clothes as usual and stopped you.

“Are you serious? Not only are you being extremely loud for eleven p.m., but you’re already putting holes in the new walls. You’re not even using the right nails, they’re going to snap after a few months of use.” He grabbed the hammer out of your hands, along with the nails you had in your other hand.

“I’m not even being that loud, plus who cares, I’m going to hang stuff up eventually why does it matter?” You tried to grab your supplies back, but Aizawa leaned away from you so it was out of your grasp.

“Because this is a shared living space, it’s rude to just hang stuff up without permission.” He set the tools on the ground, accidentally kicking over your pictures.

“Oh I’m sorry, do I need to ask you when to take a shit too?” You slightly lunged at him, puffing your chest out.

“Stop acting like a child, is it so hard to respect basic formalities?” Aizawa asked you, staring you down.

“Stop acting like a dick, is it so hard to be nice?” You threw his words back in his face, already pissed off.

“Enough, I’m tired already and you’re only putting a damper on my mood.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning back to his room. You found out he stole the larger room, with the walk-in closet and bathroom, leaving you with a tiny closet and no personal bathroom.

That was kinda how you two had been living for the past week, constant bickering over every single thing. Maybe he left stains on the tupperware and cups because of his horrid coffee addiction, or maybe you left your mess in the way of the living space, or maybe one of you just breathed too hard. Whatever it was, it started angry arguing with one or both of you storming out.

Whatever, recently you started to train in one of the personal gyms at the school, taking out your anger on the environment around you instead of murdering your roommate. That was our only place of solace, being able to jump and crawl around and hone in on your close combat. To be honest, it had been lacking, and the event at the camp left you self-conscious and hesitant. Noting the lights were already on, you walked in and dropped your bag at the door, gathering some light to use as stepping stools later. Quickly swapping your sweatpants and sweater for your hero suit, you walked out of the changing room and froze when you saw a figure right beside you.

Stepping out of the male changing room.

“Are you stalking me?” You turned to him, already angry.

“I could ask you the same thing, you seem to follow me wherever I go.” He snapped back, adjusting his capturing scarf.

“Because you’re always there. Like, I can’t even take a piss without you popping out of the corner to tell me the amount of toilet paper I’m using is wrong.”

“That’s an inappropriate example.” He watched you storm off, going to your corner of the gym to start your practice. You quickly climbed in the air, running across the left side of the gym while doing flips and jumps.

You could feel his cold gaze on you, analyzing your every move and jump. Self-conscious, you tripped mid-jump and panicked, years of hero instincts out the window. Your quirk deactivated, and you could feel yourself free falling through the air. You are fully prepared to hit the hard ground, tensing up your body to prepare for impact.

Instead of hitting the hard cement, large hands wrapped around you, holding your back and stomach protectively.

“Are you not a hero? What was that?” Aizawa growled, quickly standing you up and holding your shoulders while he looked you over.

“I got nervous! I panicked!” You shocked him away, holding yourself.

“Nervous about what? You were doing fine.”

“You! I could feel you judging me, so I just tripped and I freaked out!” Yelling at him, you missed his hand clutching over his heart.

“Freaked out? What if there was a student in danger, what if you were in danger?” His voice was getting as loud as yours was.

You clenched your fists, nails digging painfully in your palm. “Why do you care so much?”

Aizawa went silent after that, his face angry but he himself was quiet.

There was a heavy pause, he seemed to mull something over and you just sat angry at him.

“Because I will not let my staff be weak.” You looked away, already done with the conversation, done with him.

“I’m leaving, I’m done.” You tried to stroll past him, but he stuck out a hand.

“Wait.” You glared at him, and the bottom half of his face was engulfed with his scarf. “Train with me, let’s spar together.”

“Why would I ever-”

“Let me finish. It’ll allow me to train you to be better, and would let you get your frustrations out on me.”

That was..odd for Aizawa. You couldn’t deny the idea of beating Aizawa into the ground didn’t seem fun, but the idea of him being a teacher to you made you feel a type of way. You thought about it for a moment, but eventually, your anger won you over.

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you walk into your classroom limpiING-” Your sentence was cut off when Aizawa swept his feet under you, knocking you into the ground. You lay on the ground, arms flexing with the burning desire to knock his teeth out.

“You’re on asshole.”

___________________________________________

His strong hands clutching you, only there for seconds while he threw you to the ground, his dark eyes following your every movement, fast and calculating, the way he was so sure of his movements, fast and strong.

Those were images and thoughts that ran in your head when you stepped into the shower, hands delicate over blooming bruises and scratches. You managed to get a couple of good hits on him, your knuckles still raw when you clocked him right in the jaw and your legs slightly shaking when you pushed him off of you. Aizawa never fully gave you the chance to use your quirk, allowing you to fully focus on hand-to-hand combat, his specialty.

“You need to work more on your confidence and ability in close combat. Tomorrow we’ll do the same thing.” His monotone voice was a little more tired than usual, and he held an ice pack to the same spot where you punched him.

“Same time?” Your voice was just as tired, and you barely kept in a yawn. He simply nodded in response, turning in for the night.

Those interactions, those thoughts kept you up all night, wondering why thoughts of him infected your mind.

You turned over, needing sleep to make lesson plans and help with schedule planning.

___________________________________________

At first, training with Aizawa was fine, not great, but not exactly bad. But over the recent few weeks, he seemed to get even meaner than before, if that was even possible. You learned quickly he was holding back on you, and it made your class time very awkward.

"Hey, Ms. where'd you get those bruises from?"

"Rough night?"

It was embarrassing, especially the rougher he got.

"Fuck." You coughed, a swift kick in the chest downed you, and now you leaned over on your knees panting for breath. "Jesus dude, this is just training not the real fucking thing." You looked up at him, hand cupping your injury.

"You could have easily avoided that. I overestimated your skills. Get up." He didn't even sound sorry.

"Let me catch my breath first damn."

"No, get up. Do you think a villain will give you the same opportunity?" He taunted, hands on his hips while he looked down at you.

"I would've blinded the villain by now, give me a break." You waved him off, and he took the opportunity to grab your hand and haul you up.

"Or they could've killed you by now. You need to be stronger. Get ready." Aizawa quickly got into stance, fists ready to punch you again.

"Aizawa. Give me five fucking minutes, that hurt like a bitch." You backed up, creating a wide berth between the two of you.

He stood up, and because of his baggy hero suit, you couldn't see he was still flexing his muscles.

"See, was that so hard?" You sighed, rubbing at your chest. Taking a deep breath in, you looked up and closed your eyes. You yelled out when suddenly he tackled you to the ground, flipping you over to twist your arm.

You scratched at your bandages, fucker gave you a goddamn professional indian burn. A while back some of your advanced kids took their finals, each had to write three different essays about three different historical moments in their lives, in hero history, and Japanese history. You had put off grading them until the summer break since that was what you were originally planning to do at the start of the break. It was hard to grade so many papers when your arms and hands hurt like a bitch, and it was hard to focus with an achy body that hurt all over.

Groaning, you threw your head back and sighed, feeling a major headache growing on your head.

"What's your problem?" Aizawa's voice came from behind you, opening your eyes you saw his upside-down form sipping from a kitty cat coffee mug.

"Other than you, these goddamn papers. I put them off and now I have too much work to do." You sat back up, picking up your red glitter pen. You heard him sit beside you, the couch dipping under his weight. Aizawa picked up a random paper, skimming over it while he placed down his coffee cup.

"If you can't do it by yourself-"

"I can, thank you very much."

"-then I suppose I could help you. It doesn't seem that complicated." He shrugged, quickly putting his thick hair up in a bun. You watched his hands, and heat pooled in your cheeks at the sight. Even after all this time, you still couldn't deny the aggravating man wasn't attractive. His strong and long neck which was usually hidden was just so…hot. For lack of a better word, it made you feel like a medieval man seeing a woman's ankles for the first time.

"That's because that's one-third of the students' final, and that's the personal essay. If you want, you can do the personal ones while I do the hero and Japanese ones." You pushed the large stack of papers towards him, handing him a black glitter pen. His thick fingers slightly curled around your hand at the contact, making you swallow.

"Seriously? Do you not have any normal pens?" He asked, deadpanned.

"Nope." You turned away quickly, drinking some water to cool your body. What was wrong with you?

You scratched at your bandages again, wishing you could just rip them off. Suddenly, hands engulfed your forearm.

You turned over to your injury, seeing pale olive hands adjusting your bandages. You looked up with wide eyes and watched him fix them for you.

"Stop messing with them. You're going to agitate it more, and it will be more painful tomorrow." Aizawa's voice was firm, but his hands were so soft. So caring and gentle, fingers kindly moving them so they covered up everything. He looked up at you, awaiting whatever snappy response you had.

"You're agitating."

And for a moment no one did anything. The only sound was the whirring of the AC and the tick tick ticking of the analog clock above the kitchen doorway.

"You're infuriating." Aizawa responded, but there was no bite in his voice. Subtlety, every so subtlety, you two inched forward. His strong hand left your forearm to your shoulder, and you dropped your pen to inch your hand to his thigh.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, eyes solely focused on him.

You didn't know when, or where, or even why but sometime from when you met Aizawa to now, you sought for him everywhere. Even when he pissed you off more than anyone, you still wanted him to look at you, talk to you. You were the one always inviting him for drinks and hangouts with the staff, always tagging him along when you stayed at Hizashi's house. Even if he hated it, you always sent him cat memes and tiktoks, or sent him videos about coffee or teacher hacks. And every time he would grumble or complain something about professionalism or how it was stupid of you to do so. But every time, he'd respond, every time he tagged along, and he would even send you tiktoks back, things he thought you'd like.

It had always been him. And it was always you.

You were so close, your hand on his chest, his heart was hammering, almost as fast as yours, and his hand was splayed on your back, holding you. So close.

"OH FUCK! GET IT!"

That broke you both out of your trance, both of you pulled your hands back like they burned.

You quickly looked at the coffee table in front of you, staring down while your white knuckles your knees.

Aizawa cleared his throat but said nothing.

"EEEEE!"

Hizashi's loud squealing reverberated around the home, and you laughed. Mostly out of nerves, but still laughed.

Aizawa sighed, cursing under his breath. "Fucking Hizashi and his fear of bugs."

Wiping a tear from your eye, (from embarrassment maybe?) you turned to look at him. Aizawa was also pointedly avoiding eye contact and had already snatched up the pen and paper again.

"I remember watching the footage from your guys' finals, that shit was hilarious." You giggled, face still red.

"Not so much when he ran to the emergency showers screaming his goddamn head off. I had to follow him to make sure he didn't blow the damn building away." With quick hands he put down his hair again, but not before you saw how red his ears had become. Not only that, but you saw him trying to hide his shaky hands.

Leaning over you also continued your work, like you were supposed to, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach and the raging blush you were sure you had.

Later that night, laying alone in your bed you screamed into your pillow. A horrifying realization that was going to make your life so much harder.

You hated Shouta Aizawa as much as you loved him. And you were almost sure he felt the same.

___________________________________________

HOT DAMN, OVER 11K WORDSSSSS. literally crying /j this is now my magnum opus. i hope this gets at least one like because FUCK lmao

anyways, was planning on writing an alt ending but idk, eat up bitches. reqs are still open lmao. also if yall want specific emojis for anon that's okay

edit; literally pissed, i used the wrong name for present mic, I used his last name instead of his first km, dw I fixed it so his dialogue makes more sense now

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kinetic-elaboration · 5 months

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November 24: Bellarke, Strong/Weak

I break my block (at least partially) by writing a little ficlet at 3am. LOL RIP me.

Written for a prompt off my July Break Bingo card: strong, and its antonyms (weak, frail, powerless, small)

This is in the same universe as my Time Loop fic Make a Lot of Money and Feel Dead Inside. It's semi-spoilery for some stuff that's not yet published but not overly so. More like, it will make more sense later but nothing in here should be too surprising if you've read Ch1. And if you've read none of it, also fine, this is a prequel type thing.

Bellarke, Modern AU, ~1000 words, written in about 35 minutes

Sometimes Clarke asks him to tell her stories, too, and the stories are always about strength. Strength, and perseverance, and fortitude through adversity. He lays the details on thick: the hero’s prominent muscles, the heroine's steadfast and impregnable heart, the ease with which a man picks up a woman and holds her in his arms—every little crevice and thin, twining vein of detail he can find so they can wallow in it, live in it, the idea of a power so profound and so natural that it can never waver, never succumb to doubt.

As he winds out these threads, she stares up at him, lets her fingers play blindly against his arms, his own muscles, taut beneath his skin, and his own words sound like a distant rush in his ears as he looks down into her unblinking, crystalline blue eyes.

He's leaning too much into this habit lately: waiting for Octavia to fall asleep and then creeping out of his own house like a burglar, rolling his bike down the street by its handlebars until he gets to the corner, as if he were being quieter or less suspicious that way. Then he pedals his way to Clarke's house, feeling the night all around him soft and warm, and the rush of air he's created against his face and blowing back his hair. Most nights, the bugs are humming, buzzing loud and the night feels riotous by the time he gets to her place. Strands of hair are sticking to his face with sweat and he's breathing hard, like all this way he was running from something and his life depended on it. He lets the bike fall down in the yard by the big tree with the tire swing, its wheels still spinning, winces at the indecorous metallic sound it makes, and breathes in deep of growing spring humidity and wet and warmth as he tilts his head back and stares up at the dark windows of the house. There's no car in the driveway: Abby on the night shift again.

Clarke's window looks out over the back. When he sneaks around to the backyard, he sees her light still burning.

He never tells her when he's coming over because it would be admitting too much, and fuck he's sneaking out so often now she probably expects him every night—but she never tells him she's waiting up. After the first couple times, she stopped showing any surprise. And she never, not even the first time, has said anything about not wanting him to stay. The route up to her window is precarious and awkward, and she still has to pull him, torso first, through the narrow opening, sweaty and overgrown and with all his limbs stretching out in the wrong places, his muddy boots threatening her bedroom carpet, every time.

Being in Clarke Griffin's bedroom in the middle of the night always feels forbidden and profane and yet predetermined all at once, like he's breaking all the rules to be exactly where he needs to be. A contradiction that slots neatly into his ideas of himself. He's the unflagging strength that does the impossible, the rage-fueled need that just protects and protects and protects, and that's so deep-ingrained he's not sure how he would live without it, but he's the groveling, frail, powerless little boy, too, out of breath and ragged after running all night. This second deep-down part of him needs those stories like breathing, and he needs the sanctuary of Clarke's neat, rectangular bedroom, with the blue-painted walls, her twin four-poster bed in the corner of the room.

She's running her fingers through his hair and kissing his face like she's not seen him in years instead of hours, kisses that linger on his cheeks and his nose, little breaths that he hears against the shell of his ear. The kisses on his mouth linger longest. He wants to pick her up and press her against the wall.

Throw her on the bed. Prove he can.

He still hasn't learned to touch her in a way that doesn't feel like pawing.

He only hears the clock ticking again after, when he's squashed up against the wall trying not to roll over and onto her, crush her, catching his breath again. His whole body is buzzing like he can feel every single atom in him vibrating, reminding him he's big and strong now and it's too late to learn gentleness. Beyond Clarke's shoulder, he can see her bedside table: her alarm clock, a small notebook that might be her diary, a box of tissues that almost fell to the floor while they were fucking. Past that, the slatted door of her closet, the photograph of the Eiffel Tower like she's taunting him with all the places she'll someday go.

"Bellamy," she murmurs, his own name almost a question, maybe a sigh. He repositions himself so that his arm's around her and her head is on his chest. This is a position he could stay in too long if he's not careful, a warmth and comfort to it, to her weight on him, that's tempting as sin.

This is the worst time to be thinking about it. But he's thinking about it. Her window's still open and the high, rising buzz of the insects seeps in, and he can't stop turning over and over in his mind what else he's brought in with him, can't stop wondering if she sees him this way too.

Can't stop wondering what she's thinking, as he glances down, entranced by the heavy rise and fall of her chest.

"Tell me a story or something," she says.

He tries to laugh, only a huff. "Don't get too comfortable listening. I need to leave soon."

"Yeah, but not yet." She pokes him in the side, and he squirms away on instinct, then smiles because he really feels warm in this moment. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "Come on. A story where the good guys kick some ass. Defeat some monsters for me, Bellamy."

Defeat those monsters.

He takes a deep breath in, gathering up his thoughts, letting the story come to him.

Kill those monsters dead, he thinks, or die trying.

#the year 2023 #2023: free write #mine #my writing #july break bingo #make a lot of money #the 100 #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #i think you can tell how rusty I am from the first couple paras but i do find a groove later

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philosophicalparadox · 1 year

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Cough, it’s me again

Our dear demon bastard stated what type of women he likes. What do you think would be the type of woman (and maybe even man) he dislikes the most?

He is living in my head rent free

This one is much easier and less complex to answer 🙏 (I promise your other ask is in the works 😚 its just taking its dear sweet time to manifest in coherent thoughts)

My picture of a person Mephisto absolutely would not like conveniently exists in canon: Michael Gedouin. And no, I'm not just saying that because I hate the bastard.

Gedouin is everything Samael loves to despise. He's clingy, desperate, arrogant, short sighted, pushy and rude. He's got delusions of grandeur and crippling insecurities. Mephisto would eat him alive out of spite - possibly literally if he weren't so fat as to give the malnourished demon clogged arteries for the effort.

I personally think that when Samael expressly dislikes or loathes someone he goes out of his way to be an absolute menace to them. Because he's petty like that.

Canon kind of backs me up on this, and offers a compelling series of reasons why. Everyone he dislikes in canon, he dislikes because they're too intrusive or rude (Lewin) too cocksure and ignorant (Arthur) too needy and pushy (Yukio to a degree) or too self absorbed and narcissistic (Lucifer).

What do all these people have in common?

They're all liars.

They all lie to themselves and to others constantly. Lewin lies to others because he has to in order to appear normal; Arthur lies to himself so that he feels normal-ish despite blatantly knowing he isn't; Yukio lies to both himself and others for the sake of status quo and because he has crippling insecurities he would rather pretend didn't exist; and Lucifer lies to everyone including himself because his mind and ego can't handle the truth or reality, so he twists the narratives to suit himself, and to hell with the rest.

Samael, Father of Lies, absolutely despises liars.

He despises liars, and he despises those who turn away from a hard truth they'd rather not face. In his mind, these people are cowards, possibly, and I don't imagine he is fond of cowardice either. Part of why he is so hard on Yukio is because Yukio refuses to see or acknowledge the present, focusing -- and hiding in - the past or sometimes the future. He is similarly stern with Rin at times because Rin was running away from the past, but with no sense of direction for the present or future; he was lost, though, not deliberately hiding. Yukio hides; he uses the past or possible future to justify the present while acknowledging neither, and that makes him both annoying and dangerous; vascillating between the past and future without thinking about the present is how you end up circling a drain with no outlet. Yes, Yukio is depressed and stressed and has some serious trauma issues, and that is why he acts that way - no doubt Mephisto is well aware of that - but he also was stubborn and foolish and refused to accept help in any way except very marginally for his way, and his way was not what he needed. And I just don't see Samael having the greatest patience with people who wallow in their misery and refuse to help themselves, or if they are, like with Yukio, then they won't listen to reason if they're wrong.

Samael does not like people who deny the truth. Who insist they know better than he does, who won't budge an inch no matter what he tells them. He has not the patience, and after a lifetime of dealing with Mr. Narc Himself I honestly can't blame him for that.

At the same time, he finds great delight in tormenting people he despises. He ribs Arthur all the time and makes a mockery of him, he belittles Yukio and infantalizes him in some respects; He openly says he doesn't like Lewin and finds him creepy due to his persistent, invasive intrigue regarding himself, and doesn't bother him much I feel because anything Samael did do to bugger him would only entice him more; and he can do nary a thing about Lucifer, except quietly chide him in the back of his mind and hope his brother comes to his senses eventually. A hope I think he has lost all faith in.

Now, I feel a need to bring up an odd little relationship regarding these things - Amaimon.

Does Samael dislike Amaimon? Yes, i think he does, in a way. But he dislikes him because he is rude and lazy and doesn't like to think for himself or make hard decisions and acts like a total child about it when he does. Amaimon doesn't pick sides because he doesn't want to think about the ramifications of either choice, so he just doesn't make one. (until he has to). Amaimon doesn't like actual hard work, so to entice him to do anything one must invite him to "play" or offer a reward - and sometimes punishment - worth motivating him. Amaimon does not give a single flying fuck if anyone really likes him or not, which I do think Samael finds admirable about him actually, but it comes with the caveat that he can't trust Amaimon to blend in very well or follow a set of rules he sees no point in following, like "Dont punch people, because they die, and we dont want them to die". To explain anything to Amaimon, one must explain it in his terms, on his terms, which makes him difficult and annoying to deal with at times because if there's no relevance to himself going on, he has no reason to care. He is the quintessential "not my problem" guy.

(I confess after writing this I am a lot like him in many regards)

Samael doesn't appreciate people who make his life more difficult, I would say for the above case. He prefers things to go a certain way, and people who propose to mess this up by being stubborn and difficult to control are thorns in his side; but he is willing to put up with them for the greater good of his work.

Rin is another thorny case for Samael at times, though its more that Rin has the utmost potential to be a problem than that he presently is one; Rin is strong willed, though not exactly stubborn - he can be plied fairly easily with the right kind of persuasion, and as recent chapters have so kindly delivered onto us, Rin is the faith-having sort of person; he believes in Mephisto's power and abilities, and has faith that Samael would be able to put the world to rights if Satan wasn't being such a stubborn Git about it all.

That being said, I could easily see the tables turning if Rin decided to get in Samael's way and provoke him with his stubbornness, especially since Rin isn't always keen on listening to reason, so I hesitate to say Samael likes or dislikes Rin outright - I think he's an edge case and that Samael cautiously likes him, but would absolutely kill or maim him if it came to that. And I personally am of the mind that Rin is very much aware of this.

So, to recap -

Samael does not like Liars, Truth Deniers, and People Who Make Life Harder.

I also am of the mind he has a particularly vengeful distaste for thieves, based on the possessiveness of his personality and penchant for collecting things, but only insofar as they have stolen from him. After all I doubt he got all of his own belongings by moral means, given Loki and Dionysus' penchant for being thieves themselves. So steal away - just don't steal things from the Devil, maybe. Unless he wants you to. (Ahem, Impure King arc). But even then, probably not the wisest idea.

#blue exorcist theories #blue exorcist #ao no exoricst #mephisto pheles #ask response #thank you for the oppostunity to ramble about our favorite clown man

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fern-sword · 7 months

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woop thinking about the finale of fionna and cake putting this note up here so Bryn knows not to read it

i've seen a few people say the lesson behind the finale is a lukewarm "you have to just take what youre given/accept things the way they are" and like, maybe, but i don't quite see it that way. the finale seems to be more a combination of "sometimes you have to let go of the past to move forward" and "you have to accept what can't change to see what can." im sure there's a better way to phrase that to get my point across but w/e

Simon needed to let go of Betty, he needed to understand that the decisions that were made can't be taken back, and there's no magical undo to get his fiance back. she made her choices, and he has to accept that and finally try to move on. actually live his life for himself. and also get therapy finally, yeesh Fionna needed to stop clinging to her dreams of a magical fantasy land to see what she already had. she let her desire for life to be more magical prevent her from finding ways to make it so, in a less literal sense. it doesnt mean she just had to accept things the way they were! her experience changed her (and her cat) enough that she accepts what her world fundamentally is, and looks to improve what can actually be changed instead of wallowing. she's helping not just rebuild but improve, protesting with her friends, and planting dandelions.

its 2am so idk if any of that is like. coherent, but i still stand by it. nobody gets handed perfect lives, but nobody was forced to be content with their miserable ones.

#fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #adventure time spoilers #dont @ me the finale was everything i hoped for #poor bmo tho rip

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camaro-and-smokes · 1 year

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Menace, my beloved

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove,Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Harringrove, events take place post-starcourt, Billy survived, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pillow Fights, POV Steve Harrington. Words: 1703

Summary: After Starcourt Billy had moved in with Steve, and living with him wasn't always easy.

Notes: This is my @harringroveson-bingo card 1 prompt A3: Pillow fight.

::::::::::

“You always say that! I hate it!” Billy shouted and got up, storming out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom. Steve flinched as Billy slammed the bedroom door shut after him. He counted only to three before he heard Billy scream his lungs out. He took a deep breath. It was a sign that Billy was getting better. The less Steve could count to, the sooner Billy was letting his frustration out. Or at least sooner than before. Obviously, there was still a long path ahead before they could have any difficult discussions without Billy sparking his short temper into full on flames from less than three sentences from Steve he didn't like for any reason.

It wasn't Billy's fault. When they had started dating, Billy hadn't known how to control his negative feelings at all, for he'd been forced to bottle them more or less entirely for so long. Back then, he had simply walked out of the house and driven away whenever they had even a minor argument. It had led Steve being heartbroken for making Billy feel bad at all, which again had led them not really talking about anything important, and almost made them break up before they even lifted off the ground. Only when Billy finally had mentioned about his volatile situation at home, his walkouts had made sense to Steve, and they had gotten back on track.

And then, just a month later, Starcourt mall had happened.

When Billy had been in the hospital for a few months, Steve had once seen Neil rage at him. It had been the first time Steve had witnessed the obvious reason for Billy's frustrations. He'd decided on the spot that Billy would move out the moment he was released from the hospital and come live with him.

Which, ever since he had helped Billy walk up the stairs to the tiny studio apartment, had lead to a never ending number of arguments about Billy wanting to pull his weight, Steve telling him it wasn't necessary because he wasn't yet fully healed, Billy feeling Steve was belittling his capability of taking care of himself because he was trapped in a body that might never function quite the way it had before, Steve telling he didn't belittle Billy the slightest but wanted to give him time to heal because he loved him, Billy not hearing what Steve meant from his own rage - and that's how they always ended up in the situation where they were also right now.

Steve wanted to shake Billy so hard that all the unnecessary self pity and wallowing would fall out. Steve understood it was important for Billy to feel that he was in control of his life, especially now, but Billy just wasn't willing to give his body the time it needed to heal. He wanted his body to fix itself faster than it could, and especially because he kept his pre-Starcourt fitness as the goal for that healing, not having it all right now—if ever—was the source of all his self-loathing.

It was admirable that Billy wanted to work on healing his injuries and do it as soon as possible. While his progress had been quick thanks to his decisiveness, everything still took longer than he wanted.

On a good day, he could walk to the garage that was a few blocks away where the bruised and battered Camaro was parked, and do some work on it for a few hours, the time his brain allowed him to concentrate. After that, he had to come back home and sleep as long as his body needed to recharge on that day.

On a bad day, getting out of bed was a struggle.

The mindflyer had caused severe physiological and neurological damage to Billy's body, and he was simply refusing to get into grips with it. Even with all the exercise and physiotherapy, it could take longer to heal than he himself thought possible. And while finishing school in somewhat reasonable schedule felt attainable, because he was able and wanted to study for a few hours a week even if by himself, finding work after graduating that would fit his new state, depending on what it would be, might be hard.

Steve had tried to drill it into Billy's head that all he had to do for now was just to concentrate on healing and that he would take care of everything else. For now. Yeah, the money was tight, but he had talked his mom around to open his fund when he would turn 20, so it would get easier soon. But Billy was a hothead and maybe a bit too proud to admit that maybe he at least shouldn't feel bad about not being fully healed after just six months of which he'd been in a coma for a month. Steve thought that maybe the neurological damage contributed to Billy's shorter than normal temper too.

In any case, these were the challenges they were living with.

Steve put the kettle on to make Billy some tea and then waited for fifteen minutes allowing the tea to cool. Billy was having a bad day with the pain, but somehow tea calmed the nerves, so Steve made him a mug and took it with him. He knocked on the bedroom door. "Billy?" No answer. He opened the door and peeked in. Billy was sitting on their bed, looking out through the window. "I made you some tea," Steve said and raised the mug as he walked by the bed. He set the mug on the nightstand and sat next to Billy. He didn't dare to touch him without asking. For all he knew, Billy could be having the worst of days when he felt every single nerve-ending in his body. "Can I touch?" Billy nodded, barely visibly. Steve moved to sit behind him and hugged him gently. "I love you," he whispered. Billy looked down. "I'm not worthy of it. I'm not worthy of anything." “Yes, you are,” Steve whispered. “And you're doing such a good job of working on getting better. Even now you let out all the anger way sooner than before.” “I did?” Billy asked after a while. “Yeah. I could only count to three. Next time, I might even come after you and finish the argument right there and then.” Billy snorted. “Keep dreaming that dream for a while, for now.” Steve smiled. “You're a hothead, but you're my hothead,” he said, and kissed Billy on the cheek. “I still don’t like it.” “Yeah, well, for now you have no say in it. The Camaro stays in that garage, no matter how much the rent for the space is, and you keep going there at least a few times a week, if you can, and keep working on the car. You don’t even notice that you’re exercising your legs and hands when you’re there. It helps you get better, baby. It’s important. To you and to me.” “But you pay for fucking everything. I feel like shit for being just a free-rider,” Billy groaned. Steve sighed and hugged him tighter. “You need to get better first. You do what you can and that’s enough. And as I was saying when you stormed out, it doesn’t matter how you take part. If you can fill and empty the dishwasher, or study, or work on the Camaro…I love you, and I take anything you can do and contribute to our life together—as long as you keep your healing as number one.” He sighed again and set his chin on Billy’s shoulder. “And like I’ve tried to tell you so many times before, but apparently I need to remind you once again—our life together is not a numbers game.” Billy was silent for a long while. “Why are you so good to me?” he finally asked quietly. “Because you deserve it.”

Billy sighed a heavy sigh and hugged Steve’s arms. They looked outside in silence and just were.

Until Billy let go. It looked like that he was going for the mug of tea and Steve let go—but instead of the mug, Billy grabbed his pillow from under the duvet and hit Steve with it. “Hey!” Steve yelped. “What was that for?” “For being so fucking perfect. You deserve a smack for it.” “I’d like you to smack your lips on mine rather than a pillow on my head.” Billy whammed the pillow over his shoulder again at Steve and laughed. Steve tried to hold back the arm that held the pillow, but it was surprisingly strong—though Steve didn’t really use all his own strength to hold Billy back. Finally, he let go and scrambled backwards on the bed to grab his own pillow. By then, Billy had turned around and was on his knees on the bed, ready to hit Steve again. Steve managed to hit Billy on his shoulder before Billy’s pillow flew in the air again, hitting Steve in the shoulder. “Hey! This isn’t a fair fight!” Steve laughed. “I show you fair,” Billy said, grinning, and kept attacking Steve relentlessly. They both were laughing and hitting blows at each other with the soft pillows, Steve all the time avoiding hitting Billy with full force even by accident.

Finally, Steve laid down on the bed, giving in and burying his face into the mattress. “I give up, I give up! You’ve punished me enough!” Billy laid some more hits with the pillow on Steve’s back and then buried his face between Steve’s shoulder blades, laughing and hugging him. “Why are you like this?” Steve groaned into the mattress. “Because I’m fully capable of being a menace,” Billy grinned, and tickled Steve’s sides. Steve turned around, and before Billy could get away from his reach, he grabbed him into a hug, this time facing him. Seeing Billy’s eyes sparkling and a wide smile on his face, just like before everything went to shit, made Steve’s heart wanting to burst out from his chest. “Even though you drive me crazy,” he said softly and kissed Billy. “You’re my menace. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#harringrove fanfiction #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #billy hargrove deserves love #billy hargrove redemption #stranger things fanfiction #fan fiction #harringroveson bingo #suometar writes

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theroastedwretch · 1 year

Text

Between the Lines- Ep. 2

Warnings- PG-13 due to Swearing and Explicit Language, Mature Themes, possible Violent References

Index Episode 1

In what could be generously called the morning, I woke up in waves.

The first wave was, of course, nausea. There was no escaping that after a night of drinking far too much and thinking far too little. Opening my eyes proved to only make things worse, so I closed them back up before the world had time to come into any focus.

That moment of peace and darkness allowed the next wave to crash into me a bit more gently than the dizziness had. Still, there was only so softly that the memory of a corpse during a kidnapping case could really get. I cringed, remembering Jessy’s tightened face as she hurried along alone along streets that had likely never felt more dangerous to her.

Guilt settled in my stomach as I thought of how I must have looked to her, glass of wine in one hand while Annie stood behind me, trying to tame the massive cloud of hair that resulted from her not listening when I told her that you don’t brush curly hair.

I should have pushed Annie away at that moment, focusing all of my energy on the clearly distraught woman on my phone. But I’d felt so tightly wound in that moment— fear and disappointment and even an absurd sense of rejection— coiling in my stomach and it felt like it would cut off my air if I didn’t do something to release it.

The shame of that choice rolled over me and I rolled over in bed, clutching my pillow as I remembered the card that had first slipped and sent me spiraling. The kidnapper’s call, and the brusque reaction the Hacker had shown to it.

I knew he wasn’t wrong. Even if the kidnapper was clever enough to figure out how to find me, it would be a lot of work to get there. Too much, really, coming this far would leave too much open in Duskwood, and no way to get back quickly.

But we knew nothing about this person. We could be dealing with more than one person, or even a trafficking situation. Of course, no evidence pointed to either of those things, but there was no evidence of anything, really.

And below all the rationality, I’d been raised the way most young women were: with a strong awareness of the risks behind just existing. That deep, hissing voice invoked that fear in me, the sense of just how vulnerable I could be. Every shadow, every bump in the night, had the potential to be someone who meant me harm. Putting a voice, a living breathing person, to that shadow struck me on a primal level I couldn’t explain.

So to have that considered a good thing? By someone I was supposedly working with? The knowledge of just how secondary my own safety was in his eyes had hit me in a way I couldn’t really explain. Wallowing in that insecurity and worthlessness led to that final, smacking wave.

I was not in my own bed.

I’d drunk enough to make the morning unpleasant, but not enough to forget, so the delay in recognizing my surroundings was due to my chaotic thoughts rather than the liquor. But this fact was so beyond out of character that my eyes snapped open in shock anyway.

Now that my awareness had returned, it was unbelievable that it hadn’t occurred to me sooner. The bed felt nothing like mine, the room smelled like cologne and something inherently male instead of my laundry soap and pillow spray, and a soft snore filled the air from the other person next to me.

Well this was not great.

While I remembered getting there, my terrible sense of direction meant I had no idea how, or how to get back home. I’d have to order a rideshare, which I wasn’t particularly thrilled about after a night of excessive, unbudgeted drinks. Still, wandering around town sounded even less appealing, and it was early enough that the darkness would prickle that same sense of vulnerability that had partially led me here.

I slipped out of bed carefully. His name was Joe, but that was about all I knew about him. Not because I didn’t remember, but because I’d never bothered to ask. For the first time since college, I hadn’t cared at all.

My clothes hadn’t been flung far from the bed and hadn’t scattered much in the process, so the act of quietly dressing was pretty simple. The door to his room was a bit more of an issue, it stuck a bit and a slow creak had me casting furtive glances over my shoulder at him.

Luckily, he was either a deep sleeper or the booze had hit him harder than me, so I was able to sneak to the front door, grab my shoes and lock the door on my way out without any other trouble.

My battery was dangerously low, so while I prioritized ordering a ride, catching sight of a message from Jessy had me spending some of that precious juice on alleviating my guilt.

Jessy: Any chance you’re awake yet? Jessy: I can’t keep my mind off of it. Jessy: MC? Jessy: I know it’s early for you but please text as soon as you wake up.

I winced, she’d started texting hours ago and probably hadn’t slept a wink.

MC: I’m so so sorry. MC: I made some really bad choices last night. MC: I’m on my way home but my battery’s low so I might disappear MC: If I do, I’ll get on the second I’m plugged in, promise.

Jessy: What are you doing out???

MC: Bad choices. MC: Let’s not talk about it now, not important

Jessy: O…kay. I’m going to make a group chat Jessy: I think we need to process

MC: Of course.

The twinging guilt of abandoning her the night before had me agreeing to tell Thomas without even thinking about my words. Part of me expected that they’d refuse my offer. It spoke volumes about their mental state and worry for Thomas that they left it to me. I’d barely spoken to him, would struggle to recognize him on the street, and had no way to predict how he’d react beyond quick first impressions.

Of course, they were right. We needed to get to him before anyone else did, and I’d wasted enough time with my drunken night already. It was important that I not waste any more waiting until after I was done shivering in the night air in my too-tight dress and smeared makeup.

I’d always joked that the last 2% of my phone’s battery was the most unpredictable, and while I rationally knew that this was absolutely not the case, it made me worry that I’d lose charge at the absolute worst minute.

I opened the message thread with his name on it and greeted him, wasting what little time I had on staring at his name as I waited, mind racing between a long, comforting message that I might not be able to finish, or getting straight to the point.

When the car hadn’t shown up yet by the time he responded, I felt like my decision was made for me. I quickly filled him in on the situation, rushing to reassure him that it probably wasn’t Hannah. Despite knowing that in a town of that size, the number of missing girls had to be low, and adding in demographics and timing, there was just no way.

My heart dropped when he left without replying, and I reluctantly went to report the update to the chat.

___

I made it home, plugged in my phone, and pondered my next steps. I knew that I should tell the Hacker what was happening, but the idea of reaching out after everything filled me with dread. I rationalized that I’d be much more capable of considering everything after a shower, some food, and a nap. It definitely wasn’t dragging my feet, it was the practical choice.

My shower felt cleansing, clearing my mind and giving me the distance I needed to think of everything more objectively.

The Hacker was right, the threats were empty. My reaction was instinctive, guttural, not rational. Outside of the fact that I was looking into it, the kidnapper had no reason to look at me as anything more than some stranger. I might be a bit annoying, or inconvenient, but so far I hadn’t even found anything interesting and there was nothing pointing to the idea that I ever would. There were dozens of others, the police, Hannah’s friends, the community, that would be in the line of fire first.

And really, it was stupid to go out and sleep with Joe, but I couldn’t deny that I was significantly less stressed. Giving myself that outlet would help me get my head on straight, remind me that I wasn’t here to make friends or flirt with some weird computer nerd. I might be a source of comfort, a distraction, but their focus was on Hannah and mine needed to be, too.

By the time I’d rinsed off my sins of the night-- thinking of them this way gave me a little giggle-- and thrown together a rather barren sandwich, I was back to feeling almost human. A sleep deprived human, but that was easily solved, too.

So when I got a message while I was pulling up my covers, I told myself I was ready to check it.

Once I saw it was the Hacker, I questioned that resolve a little but steeled myself anyway. Putting it off wouldn’t do any good.

I couldn’t help but gloat a little when it was clear that he hadn’t expected me to know already, but decided against telling him just how long I’d known. It didn’t seem like something that would do any good.

I hated that he cheapened my friendship with Jessy to a useful boon to be exploited. She was the only one that seemed to actually like me, and making it nothing more than part of the act started to chip away at the serenity my shower had caused.

No, I insisted. She’d looped me in and looked to me for comfort. She’d trusted me to help take the burden of telling Thomas. She knew I was here to look into Hannah’s disappearance, and knew that I’d be looking for leads, but didn’t see me as just the internet Nancy Drew.

He could see it that way. He could see me that way. But Jessy didn’t, and that was all that mattered. I’d keep talking to her because I enjoyed it, and I’d ask her questions because it benefitted finding Hannah. The two didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.

For the first time, I was vaguely relieved when he logged off, despite my confusion about how shady he was acting over a picture of a cat. But it was really just another weird thing on the weird pile of him that had been building since our first meeting, so I let it go and settled in my own bed to sleep.

____

It was late morning before I woke up again. I could have used a few more hours in bed, but I could hear Annie in the kitchen downstairs either making breakfast or poorly juggling all of our kitchenware as loudly as possible.

Either way, it was probably time to face her.

As soon as she saw me, her face split into a shit-eating grin. “Morning, slut. Sleep well?”

I grunted, hoping that maybe if I played up the exhaustion and hangover, she might let it drop. Unfortunately, my luck had a bitch of a reputation to uphold, so she handed me a big cup of coffee instead.

She gave a slight hop to push herself onto the kitchen island, placing her hands on either side of her thighs and leaning forward. I envied her casual grace, long limbs and slender form. I’d have fallen or missed.

Sipping deeply from my coffee, I eyed her over the rim of the mug warily. This was the stuff she lived for. Gossip, an excuse to torture me, and watch me squirm? She was in her element.

I finally forfeited our silent standoff. “Look,” I searched for the words at the bottom of my mug, but only saw a warped reflection of my forehead. “I had fun. Of course I did. I needed that. But it was very out of character for me, you know that.”

Her grin softened a little, looking less shark-like, but didn’t fade completely. “I know. But if you sit around so serious all the time you’ll end up even more of a ball of stress than you already are. I know you think you’re some ancient, wizened crone but I promise you, you can still have some fun.” She shot me a smirk. “Joe definitely didn’t think you were a crone.”

I accepted the escape from the brush into emotional waters gratefully. “You don’t know, what if he’s into grannies?”

Her playful “ewwww” followed me into the living room, where I flopped onto the couch intending to watch something trashy. But, as has become my norm, my phone went off instead.

“Is that LARP boy?”

I bit back a groan. “I told you I don’t LARP. And there’s no boy!”

“Right, right, man, you’re mature.”

“Neither!”

Of course, it was the Hacker, but since I didn’t know if he LARPed (I couldn’t decide if it was massively out of, or in, character for him), his age, or even if he was for sure male, I figured my point stood.

???: Please show me your setup.

???: Including all devices you will be using for the investigation.

Still feeling sassy from my chat with Annie, I couldn’t resist being a bit of a pain in the ass.

MC: Aren’t you supposed to buy me dinner first?

Without waiting for a reply, I set my phone on the couch and looked at my desk next to me. I mostly used it for work ever since I’d become fully remote, but I did occasionally set up my personal laptop and play games or write stories.

But the surface of the desk certainly looked… lived in. Crumpled up notebook paper was strewn among old drink cans, coffee cups, and snack wrappers. The bottle cap I used as a fidget toy lay face up on top of my tie dye mousepad, and at some point my keyboard had gotten knocked to the floor. It even looked like one of my curly hairs hung from the arms of my dual monitor stand. With the amount of hair I had, it really did end up everywhere, to be fair.

With how buttoned up and precise he seemed, I imagined the Hacker defied the stereotype of the tech nerd covered in cheese dust with piles of drained energy drinks next to him. He probably kept his desk pristine, crumb free, and organized. I bet he even used that canned air that my dad treated like gold for the computer towers he took apart and fixed when I was a kid.

Never did figure out what that did. My mom made him keep it locked up after I used up an entire can playing with it because I liked the dimples it made on my skin and then spent ten minutes stumbling around the house giggling and falling over, so I never got the chance to ask about the real use.

I quickly started grabbing at the trash littering my desk, wincing as some sparkling water— now doubtlessly gone flat— dripped down my shirt from a can that had apparently not been totally empty.

“Are you cleaning?” Annie asked in disbelief. “What is going on with you?”

It stung a little that I was so dysfunctional that my roommate equated my tidying up to something being wrong (can only blame myself for that one though) but I refused to dwell on it as I waved her off and tossed anything that shouldn’t be thrown away but didn’t belong on my desk into the bottom drawer, then tried to wipe the surface clean with my hand.

It only took a couple of minutes, but I deflated a little at the wasted time when I saw it still looked like a mild disaster.

I put my personal laptop on the place where my work laptop normally lived and tossed the displaced tech carelessly onto the couch. Then I shoved the cables where they needed to go and opened the laptop, but didn’t turn it on.

Once I hit send on a hastily shot picture, looked more closely at it and cringed. Even without the tornado of detritus, it must look so juvenile. My post-it dispenser in the shape of a cat sat, overturned, next to an empty pen holder that said “You can do it!” in a loopy script and a barely-visible picture of my cousin’s daughter.

It was a hodgepodge of cheap stuff I’d grabbed from the thrift store, ugly Christmas presents that were kept for function rather than form, sprinkled liberally with the clear flavor of a chaotic mind whose ADHD was never fully contained.

Right. Too late to unsend.

When I backed out of the photo, I saw I had missed a message. But rather from the Hacker or group, it was a number I didn’t recognize.

#####: Hello there 😘

MC: Um, hi? Who is this?

#####: I’m wounded!

MC: Okay look, I’ve had a real bad time lately with random numbers and I’m not really feeling it today, sorry.

#####: Oh, sorry, it’s Joe. #####: Has someone been bothering you?

MC: No, it’s fine. But how did you get my number?

Had my number just gotten posted somewhere? Did white pages come back into style? What was going on lately? I saved his number with a sigh.

Joe: Annie gave it to me.

Goddamn it. My head fell back onto my shoulders and I didn’t bother to keep my voice down for the neighbors as I yelled her name.

She didn’t sound remotely sorry. “Don’t tell me you’re too busy sending nerd nudes to talk to a guy you can actually see, MC, I’m not buying it.”

Joe: I told her I wanted to see you again. Joe: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and those noises you made.

I flushed, from a combination of embarrassment, anger and the tiniest touch of flattery. It had certainly been a while since a guy had shown interest in me, especially such overt flirting.

Flustered, I put a pin in that and went back to where the Hacker was reviewing my “nerd nudes”.

???: So will it be just the laptop and phone, then? ???: What other tasks will you be doing on them? ???: And what does the antivirus you use look like? ???: Would you be willing to allow me to connect and look over a few things? ???: MC?

Ugh. I turned on my laptop for whatever connection he needed and turned back to tell him to have at it. Just then, my notifications flashed the words “you’re so beautiful” and I almost threw my phone, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden.

I put off replying to Joe for now and focused on the Hacker, reminding myself that a girl’s life was way more important than my disaster of a social life.

MC: I turned on my laptop but give me five minutes. I’ll go grab my tablet, but I also need to kill my roommate and find somewhere to hide the body and I haven’t totally decided what order I’m doing them in.

I took the full five minutes, maybe more, gathering up my tablet, throwing things at Annie, and counting backwards from ten as I poured myself a glass of water. The chill I’d gotten from my night out… and then in… had mostly evaporated, leaving behind mostly regret, frustration and exhaustion.

Finally, as over hydrated as I was over dramatic, I walked over to my phone and went back to the conversations I’d dropped.

I sent the Hacker more pictures of my devices, feeling silly. I probably should have questioned why he needed this information, but my strange blind spot for how unsettling his behavior should have been to me remained.

He was quiet after getting the pictures, and I noticed my laptop mouse sliding across the screen. Assuming he was entertained for the time being, I figured I needed to check on Joe.

Joe: I’m sorry, should I not have asked her? Joe: I didn’t really consider how creepy that could look to you.

As a window I’d never seen before opened on my laptop, I laughed bitterly. The irony was almost painful.

It took about ten minutes for him to access and do… something… to both my laptop and my tablet. In the meantime, I reassured Joe that my anger was directed at Annie for handing out my information without permission and not at him for asking.

I tried to neither encourage nor discourage his attentions, wanting to buy myself time to think. The idea of putting my dating life (what dating life?) on hold for a kidnapping case in Germany seemed absurd, and yet I was considering just that.

???: MC, I’ve secured both the tablet and laptop you indicated. Your phone was completed when we first made contact.

MC: Okay, thanks. MC: Actually hold on. MC: What did you do, anyway? MC: I mean, too late now, but I should probably ask.

???: Well, the data we have been working to access is of a sensitive nature and origin. To protect both Hannah’s privacy and your safety, it would be best if no one knew we were doing so.

MC: Awesome. You’ll warn me before I do anything that’s a felony, right?

???: The laws in your jurisdiction may be different than in mine.

MC: Perfect.

???: I never hid the danger of what we are doing.

MC: I know, I know. Sorry. I’m a bitch right now and just questioning all of my life choices.

???: Such as the murder?

MC: What? MC: Oh. MC: Annie. No, that I’m 100% sure of. She deserved it and she knows it. I’m pretty sure she gets off on making me want to kill her.

???: That sounds like an unfortunate preference.

MC: Wait, was that a joke?

???: Possibly.

MC: I laughed. But considering my sense of humor, that probably doesn’t mean much.

???: Your chats have made that rather clear.

MC: Ouch. I’m a delight. 😎

The Hacker didn’t reply right away. Even though he was still online, I figured the conversation was over, so I begged off to Joe with a headache and started to make a late breakfast/early lunch with what few dishes remained clean after Annie’s mission of destruction earlier.

It was because of this distraction that I didn’t notice his next question for almost ten minutes.

???: Is there a reason for the lights? ???: At your desk, that is.

I looked over at the lights in question and smiled.

MC: I guess just for fun. I spend more time here than anywhere else in my life, and we don’t bother to decorate for Christmas so I just repurposed the lights. MC: Why not?

???: Those generally provide very little light.

MC: Yeah, but they’re pretty.

I walked over to my desk and turned them on, sending another picture with a wider view, showing my entire office-corner.

MC: See? Pretty!

???: Of course. ???: :)

??? is offline.

Of all the things I expected him to judge me for, having twinkle lights behind my desk wasn’t one of them. Did this man have no sense of whimsy?

The Hacker logged off immediately after I’d sent the prescription, which seemed to be his pattern any time after we had something that could loosely be considered a friendly conversation. He hadn’t even given anything away this time, short of maybe revealing a disdain for my interior decorating. Though considering he had gotten mad at himself for giving away his hair color and interest in the mystery surrounding my involvement, who the hell knew what he considered personal information.

Not for the first time, I mentally shook my head and thought that guy is so strange.

The same thought occurred to me again while Jessy was telling me about Cleo nearly breaking into the garage. I knew he’d see this as a good sign, continuing proof that she liked me. Especially coming to me first, even before Richy.

For me, though, it made my heart a bit heavy. The stress and fear had started to splinter them, and they were all wearing down around the edges. Even Jessy hadn’t reached out about any random thoughts or silly observations for a couple of days, and I worried her bubbly personality would break down under the strain. The loss of trust in her friends could only make that worse.

I knew, for the investigation, turning on each other might be a good thing. It could make things more difficult, too, since I knew there would come a time where I’d need to look at places outside of just Hannah’s cat pictures and I’d need them to do the leg work. But when they were tight, ranks closed, it was harder to get them to share the other’s secrets.

But eventually, the investigation would end. One way or another, this limbo they were trying to navigate had to change. Even if, or especially if, one of them was the culprit, they’d ultimately need to lean on each other to keep from completely falling apart.

So when Jessy asked me to get Cleo to tell Richy, my initial instinct was to refuse. Not only did she have no reason to listen to me, but for investigation purposes, it was only important that I knew what Cleo had done, not Richy. It felt outside of the bounds of my role, like I was meddling in their lives rather than finding their friend.

But ultimately, I’d already gotten involved when I told Thomas about the body, hadn’t I? I’d tried to let Jessy lean on me, take some of the burden. I wanted to protect her, and I knew I’d become fond of her.

I sighed, knowing I was going to do it but wanting to at least pretend, if only to myself, that I might refuse.

Cleo adding Lilly, still the most unknown of the group, to the chat reminded me that there was a body, which I’d somehow managed to relegate to the back of my mind. It was easier, I guess, when it wasn’t in your own backyard. More like hearing it on the news, or on a true crime podcast. But the misery dripping from their tones made it clear just how real it was for them.

The stilted, uncomfortable conversation ended before it really began, a formality more than anything, and I suspected Lilly would remain a mystery for a while longer.

___

Cleo’s perspective on Hannah intrigued me. On the surface, it really wasn’t different than what I’d heard from anyone else. She was great, her life was great, her friends were great, everyone loved her.

Still, I couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something under that for Cleo. She didn’t want to be jealous of Hannah, and maybe she even didn’t think she was. But, growing up, the one time I had a close friend that wasn’t a guy, there was a similar undercurrent for us. A kind of competition, an awareness that people might be comparing us, and that neither of us were totally sure who was ahead.

I was well aware that wasn’t the case in most friendships among women, I’d never intentionally avoided making girl friends or anything. But certain personalities just kind of had that friction together, like static electricity. Generally harmless, but sometimes it caught you off guard.

I tabled that for now, aware I may be projecting myself into Cleo just because of how highly she praised Hannah’s life.

When the conversation moved to the Hacker, I was a bit caught off guard to realize that I actually knew more about him, small as that may be, than the rest of the group. I guess because I was constantly digging and trying to find what they knew that I didn’t, I hadn’t expected that there was something to the situation that I was more aware of.

I guess it was easier to trust a mystery than a suspect.

Maybe it was that realization, plus Richy’s rather blunt, unexpected categorization of the body as a murder victim that helped push me into confronting Cleo like Jessy asked. I’d intended to wait a little bit more, this was still our first real conversation, but the word “murder” slammed into me and took my breath away, and I needed to know now what she’d been doing.

Her explanation seemed plausible enough, and rather in-line with the stress cracks I’d been worrying about earlier. The combination of a missing friend and a found body had to be wearing deep on her. On all of them, really.

I just wish they’d all stop acting so suspiciously.

___

I didn’t really know how I felt about Cleo’s sudden determination to go investigate on her own. On one hand, it was good to have someone who seemed at least somewhat interested in giving me information go out and search. On the other hand, that meant that everything I’d learn would be second hand, and I didn’t trust Cleo to tell me everything nearly as much as I did with Jessy.

I knew nothing I could do would convince her, though, so I pointed her to Mrs. Sully first and wrote down the names she’d mentioned in a new notebook I’d bought just for this.

Something about the ease with which the Hacker saw everything I did unsettled me. Not because of the access he had— it should be unsettling, I reminded myself for about the thousandth time— but because if he hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known he had it. It didn’t seem like the rest of the group was aware, either. I’d avoided telling them about the voyeuristic access he’d granted me, but it made me wonder just how many times I’d considered a conversation private when it turned out not to be.

Since having that realization, I’d found myself drifting a bit away from digital. For now, it seemed like the Hacker had done whatever he could to plug up any holes that might let someone in, but I couldn’t help the nagging fear that if the kidnapper wasn’t someone from the group, and none of them had given out my number, than the call I’d gotten pointed to a leak SOMEWHERE. If not human, was it technological?

So for now, pen it is. I had a shredder, work had required us to get one at the start of the shut down when they considered working from home a short-term thing so they didn’t want to make the full transition from paper process to electronic. Mostly I just used it for credit card offers and bills now, but it could come in handy if things got serious.

The Hacker’s paranoia is rubbing off on me, no one’s peeking at my notebooks.

Spy mode conversations were a pain to keep up with, so I missed Jessy and Richy’s exchange until my fellow creep chimed in with his frustrations about them keeping things off the grid. I grinned a little but didn’t mention my newfound paranoia.

I reassured him that I had absolutely no idea what Richy could be telling her— outside of maybe finding my social media I had no idea what source he’d have for anything about me that Jessy didn’t already know— and that Jessy would probably tell me.

He probably just thinks I’m annoying or something. Which, I mean, still not hard to figure out.

I bit back the retort that he’d have seen any ammunition I could have possibly given Richy against me, being that he read every word I said. I enjoyed giving him shit for it, but since we were discussing a conversation we both weren’t supposed to be reading, it seemed a bit hypocritical.

I was a lot of things, but I usually tried not to be a hypocrite. I wasn’t particularly good at it, but I tried.

I’m not sure anything could have prepared me for him coming out of nowhere and quoting Jessy’s words to Richy moments ago.

Immediate connection? What the fuck does that mean? As far as I could tell, he kind of just tolerated me, and not even all that well sometimes. I couldn’t even think of the last conversation we had where it didn’t kind of seem like he was ending it to escape me, he either didn’t get or completely ignored about 95% of my dirty jokes, and he’d clearly regretted every piece of information about himself he’d revealed to me.

Connection? I clearly was not the only one who needed to get out more…

___

Even knowing it was stupid, I was still rather distracted through Cleo’s call about Hannah’s trip to the pharmacy. Distantly, I knew it had to be related to the prescription, and later I’d come up with theories around all kinds of salacious possibilities— abortion, overhearing a secret, seeing an ex— but at the moment I just kept getting stuck on the word connection.

It didn’t feel like anything had happened to cause a connection. At least Jessy and I had swapped stories and goals and giggled over stupid jokes. I didn’t even know this guy’s name.

But I couldn’t deny that there really wasn’t a rational explanation for my behavior towards him, either. He could have made my life an actual living hell with the access I’d given over without a second thought. I hadn’t thought to check, but I probably had something approaching nudes in my camera roll— real ones, not the nerd kind— and those would definitely be worth blackmailing me with since they’d tank any chance I’d ever have of getting back into teaching if I chose. I know I had plenty of mentions of drugs, stupid choices I’d made. And that’s not to mention my bank information.

I handed all that over on a silver platter. Could that blind, stupid trust be explained by the word connection?

Ugh, was he just fucking with me to get back at me for the dinner comment when he’d asked for pictures?

I forced myself to focus back on the topic at hand, and listened to Cleo tell me what the motel owner’s son had said about Hannah. She was more distressed by the reference to a dead girl, of course, but my mind stuck on the man without a face comment. My life had definitely gained a few of those lately.

We batted around the idea of a mask, though I also wondered for half a second if he just meant he didn’t see it. Until Cleo mentioned the legend, at least.

Great. What is the Scooby gang without a ghost?

I decided that if nothing else, discussing the legend with Jessy might cheer her up— we’d discussed how much she loved horror and legends— even though I was skeptical of it having much to add to the investigation.

After seeing how much excitement she got from telling the story, I made a mental note to plan a horror movie night with her one day soon to keep her mind off of everything. Maybe I’d even invite Annie. Maybe.

Richy was oddly hesitant to even consider the legend’s place in the whole situation, which made sense. I didn’t believe in the supernatural, I wasn’t superstitious or even religious. But it seemed like that legend was pretty integrated into the lore of their little town, so the idea of someone mimicking the legend didn’t feel too absurd, especially after the threatening call.

___

I got extremely skittish when Jessy asked me about my relationship to the Hacker. I tried to convince myself it was because I didn’t want them to see me as a spy—even though I kind of was— but it was also just way too soon after the bomb he dropped before, as always, taking off.

Wrong-footed, I’m sure I came off suspicious as hell and tried to change the subject. When she pressed on, I tried to smooth things over a bit by keeping it non-committal and calling him “different”.

Jesus, please be away from your computer for once…

Of course, being Jessy and having talked to me enough, she pressed me to explain more. I didn’t think telling her about our strange relationship would help anything, but for a crazy second I considered telling her. It wasn’t like I could tell anyone else, explaining the kidnapping and my role would distract from the parts I was struggling with. And I really wanted someone’s opinion.

What would she have to say about the “connection”? Or about how reluctant he was to share anything, and yet sometimes rose to the bait I threw out? Would she see his silences as confirmation of his annoyance and frustration?

I knew that not only would she be upset with the amount I talk to (and think about) him, but that revealing anything about him or our communication would betray his trust, so I bit my tongue. It wasn’t worth it.

Her revealing that the others didn’t trust me didn’t surprise me any. I wouldn’t trust me, I was baffled by the fact that she trusted me. They should be more suspicious of me, and the fact that they weren’t was, frankly, suspicious. I didn’t want to make my life any harder than it already was by saying so, but no one I’d talked to recently was winning any medals on internet safety.

Jessy was better than he was about smalltalk, so I found myself enjoying our conversation and letting it distract me from the rather baffling information I’d had thrown at me recently. I needed a little bit of a rest from puzzles for a while.

____

The horror movie night with Jessy ended up being pretty entertaining. The movies were mediocre and a bit cheesy, but the woman herself was really the main draw of the evening.

Surprisingly, Annie had agreed. She was neither big on horror nor crazy about boring nights in, but I think she still felt a little bad for how down I’d seemed lately and also insatiably curious about the new “friends” that had been taking up so much of my attention.

I’d almost forgotten that she knew nothing about the truth of how I knew these people, so it wasn’t until ten minutes before the planned call that I sent a rather frantic message.

MC: So um. MC: My roommate thinks we met on a role playing forum.

Jessy: What??? 🤣

MC: What would you have recommended I tell her?

Jessy: 🤦🏻‍♀️

MC: I’m sorry! I’m not good at lyinggg.

Jessy: Wait what kind of roleplaying?

MC: NOT LIKE THAT.

Jessy: Okay have you talked to you?

MC: The nerd kind, god. MC: Kind of like Dungeons and Dragons. MC: Not just dungeons. MC: No dice though.

Jessy: ahhhhhhhhhh

MC: You like writing right? Just pretend it’s like that.

Jessy: Dork.

MC: Wasn’t I a perv ten seconds ago?

Jessy: You still are.

MC: Please, I’ll owe you! I’m pretty sure my friends would take my phone if I told them I was getting mixed up in some German kidnapping case.

Jessy: Fine. I get to pick both movies.

MC: Ugh.

With that settled, we loaded up some service that let us sync our movies and I used my tablet to call Jessy.

After introducing the two women, they hit it off pretty much right away. I hadn’t really expected that— they were very different— but I had to admit that Jessy was hard not to like immediately.

For someone with such a love for all things horror, Jessy was the worst person at handling the tension that I’d ever met. She screamed at every single jump scare, and spilled her popcorn all over herself halfway through the first movie. It wasn’t just from surprise, either, there was genuine terror in her voice more than once, and she watched the climax of the second movie through her fingers.

“Are you just a masochist?” I teased Jessy as Annie stood up and cracked her back, sore from sitting in one spot for so long.

Jessy blushed a little and protested. “No! It’s just such a rush, I don’t know. I hated being scared as a kid. Even normal stuff, I’d run away if I got scared. One year all of my friends decided we should go sledding. We climbed the biggest hill we could find and stood at the top. But by the time it was my turn I got scared. They were all screaming, and it was so cold. I tried to back out. My friend just pushed me though. I was so mad and scared, but it was the most fun I’d ever had. I yelled at her, but became kind of an adrenaline junky after that.”

That kind of matched what I’d seen of Jessy so far. She was cautious at first, but got over it faster than anyone I’d ever seen. And once she was in, she was in.

My own risk tolerance tended to be pretty low. I was good at convincing myself that something wouldn’t be an issue, but if that failed, I usually wouldn’t get the courage to go on.

So the almost hidden type of strength she had was unfathomable to me. She felt, expressed, and faced her fears all without question. It made me want to hide her away, protect her from those fears. But she’d never be happy with that, she thrived in that fear.

So instead, I’d do my best to face them with her.

___

Of course, the peace could only last for a day or two before the group started their shady bullshit again. This time it was Dan, which didn’t surprise me at all, and Thomas, which did surprise me a bit. So far Thomas had seemed like a devoted, devastated partner.

I’d brushed off his abrupt disappearance after I’d told him about the body. I’d publicly agreed with Dan just to placate him, but I didn’t really see much wrong with needing time alone. Hell, I probably would have locked myself in a closet to cry for a while, and there’s no way I’d be up for dealing with people. So I cut him some slack, even when it seemed like everyone else saw it as a bad sign.

But as always when I try to give the benefit of the doubt, it didn’t take long for me to be proven wrong.

The fact that they went so far to avoid details and specifics made my heart sink. They didn’t know about the spy mode, so they had no reason to be cagey unless they were concerned about it being used as evidence against them later.

Cool.

The Hacker, of course, was reading along as well and was even more suspicious than I was. Though, to be fair, he was more suspicious about just about everything than I was. I imagine he hasn’t taken a break from his paranoia in a very long time.

We next discussed Dan’s equally sketchy conversation with someone named Poke, and I only let myself be distracted by the name Poke for about ten seconds before getting serious again. The Hacker agreed to find the number, I pretended to be good at people, and I tried to put the weird behavior out of my mind for a little while.

Seeing Jessy posting pictures of Richy work, I decided to distract myself by harassing her a little.

MC: Making a collection? 🤣

Jessy: ?

MC: Looks like you and Richy are having fun at work. MC: I don’t usually snap pictures of my boss!

Jessy: 😤 Jessy: It’s good advertising!

MC: On your own page rather than the shop’s?

Jessy: Be nice.

MC: Never. MC: How’s your day been? MC: Have any nightmares from our marathon?

Jessy: Nope, of course not! They weren’t that scary!

MC: I was shocked you didn’t piss yourself. 🤭

Jessy: Well I didn’t. I had fun.

MC: Good, me too. I don’t just chill like that much anymore.

Jessy: Why not? Your roommate seemed to enjoy it too.

MC: You caught her on a rare night in. She’s more of a party animal. MC: And you saw how well that worked out for me last time.

Jessy: THAT’S RIGHT. I never made you spill about that.

MC: Wasn’t a big deal, we had more important stuff going on.

Why did I have to bring it up? Now she’d never let it go, of course.

Jessy: So what were these bad choices? Jessy: And why did they have you getting home in the middle of the night?

MC: Ugh, nothing. I just went out with Annie and drank too much.

Jessy: And?

MC: And I get bad hangovers.

Jessy: Right, so what’s his name?

MC: How do you know there’s a he?

Jessy: Okay, what’s their name then? Stop deflecting! 😂

MC: God you’re stubborn. MC: Joe. MC: I guess he knows Annie. I didn’t know that until she gave him my number.

Jessy: Ooooh so he’s been texting you? 🤭

MC: I mean. Sometimes. I’m online pretty much constantly and he can see that.

Jessy: Are you going to see him again?!

MC: I don’t know, maybe? I haven’t had a whole lot of free time lately. Trying to focus on work, and you guys. Hannah.

Jessy: Come on, you’ve got to make time for yourself! Jessy: Especially if you enjoyed yourself.

MC: I feel like no matter how I answer that you’re going to run with it.

Jessy: Since when are you reluctant to talk about sex?

Since I’m reasonably sure I’m being judged in real-time by a very repressed hacker?

MC: 😫 MC: I don’t know, I guess I just feel silly. I told you I don’t usually do one-night stands, and I never go home with guys I meet at clubs.

Jessy: So? If he’s texting you that’s not really a one-night thing is it?

MC: I guess not… MC: Look, if he texts again I’ll agree to dinner or something maybe.

Jessy: So noncommittal.

MC: I dunno why I’m so against it really.

Jessy: Wait, is it about that hacker?

MC: What???

Jessy: You said you liked him.

MC: I didn’t mean like that!

Jessy: Well you said you like dark and brooding men. Jessy: And bossy ones.

MC: I said I like men who are Dominant. Not bossy ones.

Jessy: Isn’t that the same thing?

MC: No.

MC: I like being bossed around in bed, not all the time.

Jessy: 😳

MC: I’m not being blamed for that one, you asked!

Jessy: 😘 Jessy: Still.

MC: I don’t even know his name, Jessy. Not exactly a good basis for a relationship. MC: Plus, you know. I like for my partners to be on the same continent as me.

Jessy: Oh right. Jessy: I always forget you’re so far away. Jessy: I still want you to visit soon though!

MC: Definitely. It’ll be a bit, I’m pretty broke. But I want to meet you for real.

Jessy: But seriously, go text Joe. Get to know him. Why not?

MC: Yes, Mom.

Jessy: 😆 Jessy: Gotta go, I think Richy’s done with the car. Go text him!

Jessy is offline.

I chuckled, then thought a bit about what she said. Not the part about the Hacker, I refused to dwell on that in the slightest.

But she wasn’t wrong about Joe. It’d been a while since I was in a relationship, and while I didn’t know enough about him to know if I was even interested in that, it might not hurt to find out.

I went to his message thread and pondered what to say. I’d asked people out on dates before— I’d been way less shy as a teen— but it had been a long time. Still, he’d made his interest clear so I really didn’t know why I just couldn’t think of how to go about it.

A message pulled me out of my thoughts and gave me an excuse to put things off for a bit longer.

???: Hello, MC.

MC: Hi, sorry, haven’t gotten anything else decrypted yet. Struggling a bit with this last one.

???: I am still working on the prescription and getting the phone number. You have time.

MC: Oh, thanks.

I stared at the chat window for a moment, unsure. He wasn’t writing anything more, and he hadn’t really said anything to begin with. Was he waiting for something? Finally, I caved. I hate awkward silences.

MC: How was your day?

I winced. I’d have had better luck thinking of something to say to Joe.

???: Uneventful. There are a few things that have required my attention, but not many.

MC: Oh, I see, you’re bored. I was wondering why you texted 🤣

???: I saw you were online and remembered that you enjoy smalltalk.

MC: And your skills at it are legendary.

???: Exactly.

MC: Well I guess you wowed us with the deserted island last time, so let me think of something. Hold on.

I quickly swapped to my browser and typed “silly questions to ask”. When the auto fill completed it with “your significant other”, I prayed he wasn’t watching and pressed it anyway.

MC: Right, okay. If you could turn into any animal, what would you choose and why?

???: That’s two questions.

MC: So you’ll get to ask two.

The silence this time was less uncomfortable. I knew my question wasn’t any worse than his had been, and his protests were more to buy himself time than anything. He seemed like the sort who didn’t like looking like he didn’t have an answer for everything.

???: An owl, I suppose.

MC: Should have called that one. So, why?

???: Mmh. They have amazing night vision and range of vision. They’re virtually silent at night, and excellent predators.

MC: So you pick an animal who can see everything while being nearly invisible. 🤭 MC: Well at least it’s less obvious than bringing your computer to our island.

???: I also did a report on owls as a child and thought they were fascinating. ???: Now it is your turn.

MC: Crap I forgot to think while I was harassing you. MC: I should probably say a cat, because I love cats and they sleep like 16 hours per day which I’m jealous of. But it’d have to be a house cat, I’d suck as a stray. They just look so sad. MC: But a well-cared for house cat has pretty much the best life. MC: And it’s basically a cliche that they’re going to be bitchy and standoffish, and how perfect is that?

???: So not a lap cat, then?

MC: Depends on my mood. I’m sure I’d be snuggly occasionally. But no one would be that shocked when I smack them and run away.

???: I would think that there are many who would not be surprised if you were to do that now.

MC: Yeah but they would be when I climbed into their lap and started kneading them in the first place.

???: Possibly true.

I grinned at my phone stupidly, imagining that he’d probably go catatonic if I did that to him.

MC: Your turn.

???: Right. ???: What’s your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?

I froze for a second, thinking, then opened the list I’d found on Google again. Yep, there it was, a few away from the question I’d used.

Snickering, I filed that away for later.

MC: Depends on how rainy I guess. As a kid I’d go out and play in it but my mom always yelled at me. So now I like to read and listen to it on the roof if I have time. You know, blanket nest, tea, the works. MC: Now that I work from home I don’t really leave my house much, so rain is less inconvenient than it used to be.

???: That sounds like the answer a house cat would give. ???: I suppose I work from home as well, technically. ???: I generally don’t treat rainy days any differently than sunny ones if I don’t need to go outside. If I do, I just grab an umbrella.

MC: Very owl. 😂

???: :)

??? is offline.

Later, I’d marvel at the timing and wonder if he’d seen Jessy tell me to message Joe and jumped in to distract me, or if I was just reading way too much into his sudden onset boredom.

Either way, I’d also be able to trace this back to the day that I stopped being able to convince myself I wasn’t falling for him.

___

The next conversation we’d have would, of course, not be as pleasant. He’d managed to clear up the name of the medication. An SSRI.

At first, I was totally unfazed. Nothing anyone had told me about her implied depression, but hey, she was clearly receiving treatment so maybe the meds were working and keeping her stable. If anything, I was jealous. Even fully medicated, my friends would never describe me as cheerful and happy as hers did.

I’d learned early on that when your personality shares several traits in common with depression, there’s only so much meds can do.

No, what caught me off guard was when the Hacker didn’t know what they were. Maybe I’d gotten used to him knowing everything, but it unsettled me. I played along, even making a bet I could figure out what it was faster. Until I won, I think I held out hope that he was testing me, maybe. But he didn’t seem like the sort who let himself lose often.

I was vocal about my mental health. I discussed it openly with friends, family, and even colleagues if the subject came up. Being embarrassed as a teenager, and putting off treatment to avoid the stigma, had nearly killed me and I was determined to do my part now. So a sense of shame burned through me as I pretended to not know anything about it now.

Maybe they’re even less open about it in Germany? I wondered. I knew America’s attitude toward mental health had only started changing in the last decade or so, and it was totally possible that it just wasn’t discussed elsewhere. But in that moment, I was scared to admit just how deeply I could understand Hannah.

He denied so… vehemently… that she could possibly be depressed. It was like the idea repulsed him, and I remembered that burning in my chest I’d felt after my first public panic attack, in school, when my classmates treated me like a freak for not being able to do something as simple as handle my own emotions. I remembered my dad, after the third day I’d just stared at them blankly when they tried to get me up, that letting me stay home was just giving me what I wanted and they needed to just drag me to school. Even if it meant going in unwashed pajamas. Trying to convince my friends that my meds were birth control, because that seemed cooler than antidepressants.

This time, when he logged off, I just hung my head and cried.

___

After a good cry, I made myself a grilled cheese and soup as comfort food. I made some lemon tea to go with it, and turned on some trashy reality TV. Curling my legs under me on the couch, I pondered Hannah as someone on the television screamed at their friend about something.

This was the closest I’d felt to her so far. Before this, she’d been a name, some pictures, and a collection of stories that had the rosey tinge of “don’t speak ill of the dead”, like the way they talk about the victims on crime documentaries.

They were perfect, they were loved, and no one would have done this.

This small crack— a hidden one, if the Hacker’s reaction was anything to go by— threw her into the harsh light of reality in the way nothing her friends had said so far really could have. She’d been real, in a way no photo shoot or anecdote would ever express.

I pulled out my phone and started the next decryption in earnest. If the body wasn’t hers, if she was still somewhere in the dark, without her meds, she was bound to be suffering.

My discovery was simultaneously shocking and expected. At first, it seemed to have the cadence of poetry, but on second glance I realized it was more of a stream of consciousness. Unfiltered, it didn’t have the careful consideration and selected wording that poems so often did.

I’d been violating her privacy for weeks now, even discovered medical information, and this was the first time I felt like I’d gone too far.

Guess this confirms the depression, I mused, reading through the entry a second time.

“Today is a horrible day for me.”

I sent it to the Hacker with some concern. I didn’t imagine this would help his state of mind much. It was one thing to find out how much she needed help, it was another to be confronted with it so clearly.

Still, I’d promised to send him everything.

___

I was rinsing the bowl from my soup when Cleo told me her plan to escalate from hopping fences to breaking and entering. (Did it count as breaking and entering if they’d told you where the key was? Probably.)

Since I was an accomplice already, I relaxed into letting myself study the apartment. It was clean and organized in a way I never managed with my own place— goddamn, when she was found I really needed to find out what meds she was on— and I was impressed she could afford a place like that on her own.

The sound of the door opening interrupted my musings, and I whisper-yelled to Cleo to hide. The sharp reminder that the legality of the situation wasn’t the biggest danger slapped me in the face, and I watched helplessly as the connection was lost.

#duskwood mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood #duskwood fandom #duskwood episode 10 #duskwood everbyte

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electrasev5nwrites · 8 months

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Ninja Daily: AIC 15

Konoha kind of sucked.

At least, it sucked when you were pretending not to know any one in town or how to locate any key locations. Being under constant surveillance by an ANBU team didn't exactly help Aiko get jollied up, either. By the day before the test, her nerves were strung out.

It wasn't so bad for her genin team, as far as she could tell. Konoha must have determined that they weren't high-level plants. Or, like, higher level plants than was expected. So the three-man ANBU patrol team (she wasn't fucking bitter that she apparently didn't merit a full-team with a captain. Of course not. Why would she be bitter about that? Being underestimated was a tactical advantage that someone who was fucking stupid enough to accidentally become the Mizukage wouldn't get often.)

- anyway, the team stayed on her ass like a tight pair of pants and occasionally signaled to each other in super-secret Konoha chakra pulse code which she definitely didn't detect or understand and wasn't fucking irritated about, okay?

She may or may not have spent nearly half the day in her hotel room glowering at the staticky tv while one of her ANBU watchers pointed out something that wasn't actually suspicious in what had to be a fit of optimism that something exciting would happen soon. Apparently they had a long shift. God, she remembered that grind. Patrolling at nights, under the open sky, sprinting over the rooftops- that was fine. But daytime surveillance of some dignitary or other mildly important personage was tedious.

"Poor bastards," Aiko said to herself.

One of the ANBU's chakra honed in on her, apparently augmenting their hearing to catch what she said next. Perhaps they thought she had some kind of communication device.

That kind of ability was a clue she latched onto out of boredom- that meant there was no one on the team who had augmented hearing normally. So there no Inuzuka around. But being able to temporarily sharpen senses with chakra implied practice in a similar skillset or above-average ability in chakra manipulation. A Hyuuga? A medic? Maybe even a Nara, actually. The team was either a bit green or a bit relaxed, judging by the fact that they hadn't seen fit to go chakra dark. Someone must have pegged her as lacking sensing abilities.

To be fair, that was true- but she was attuned to the type of cues that Konoha used from years of personal experience. Still. A truly cautious, paranoid team would have gone to the extra effort. She wasn't exactly being tailed by veterans here. Again, she was being underestimated.

'Or maybe', Aiko thought optimistically. 'Maybe Konoha is intentionally pretending to underestimate me in order to slip something more covert past my attention, or to try to pinpoint my abilities. Maybe-'

She sighed.

'This is getting stupid. Those are all possibilities, but I'm just wallowing now. I've got to get out of this room.'

Telling herself that didn't make venturing out to be a pariah in her hometown any more attractive. If she'd worn nearly any other headband, the reception would probably have been less pointed. But no. She'd had to fall in with Mist. She'd pledged to protect and serve the country with the honorable distinction of producing the most basketcases per capita in the goddamn continent.

'Well,' Aiko thought with dark humor. 'I commit like a motherfucker, at least. I ruin lives like nobody's business. Mostly mine, but hey.'

That didn't exactly bode well for Kirigakure, but she couldn't possibly be worse than Obito.

Probably?

Whatever.

It was the scent of spices and heated sauces clawing their way through her window that finally drew Aiko out into the streets. She followed her nose to festival-type stands set up for the exams. Aiko slipped into the crowds with only a flinch at the press of bodies. She was aware, too aware, that proximity to strangers was made even more alarming and dangerous with her reduced vision. Her heartbeat climbed from the effort of concentrating enough to offset her blurry, dark vision with what she was hearing to navigate. More than once her reflexes were tested by the effort of quickly but smoothly retreating from the brush of fabric or the heat of skin when she accidentally stepped too close to someone else.

It was unexpectedly exhausting. Unless she was pretending to be in such a bad mood that she was purposefully bumping into people, she had to be careful. She was being watched.

'They probably can't see that much.' Aiko felt a muscle flex in her neck. She suppressed the urge to look around and pinpoint where her observers had moved to as a vantage point- they would know that she would suspect she was being watched, but confirming that she was aware enough of her observers to locate them would provide data about her abilities. They'd probably send a better team.

That would be better for her pride, to be honest, but it was safest if she could be semi-certain that she could ditch the observers if needed.

Dried fish and the scent of octopus steaming in batter rose temptingly above the crowd, but she found it too hard to pinpoint the takoyaki stand. She took a chance on a queue where the air was tantalizingly mingled with savory scents. By the time she was close enough to pick up on the warm notes of soy sauce and frying chicken, it was a bit late to duck out of the line unseen.

That was fine. Festival karaage was the best. There was absolutely nothing like it. Her mouth watered.

She was nearly at the front of the line when something changed. Aiko kept her face blank, but her attention was turned backwards.

The noise of the crowd had changed- louder, although the tone and quality of the sounds hadn't changed. It was closer? Yes. Something on the far edge of the road was causing people to crowd away, forcing the slow stream of bodies to press closer.

Aiko focused on the area, just for a moment.

'Ah,' she thought simply.

The man in front of her moved away. She stepped forward unthinkingly and chose the medium-size serving when prompted.

'Now that I've noticed him, it's hard to imagine I didn't sense him approaching before now. He's not subtle, is he?'

Seeing -or detecting, rather- Gaara as an adult, Aiko reflected, made it difficult to believe that anyone had failed to notice he was a jinchuuriki. He oozed bad news. Even civilians could tell, judging by the way the crowd parted around him as he skirted the edges of the street on the way to the training grounds allotted for the foreigners. She didn't look at him as she left coins on the counter tray, but the grip of her left hand on the steaming cup was a bit too firm.

It was quite likely that a more obvious jinchuuriki had never obvioused. Gaara was, like, the prototypical jinchuuriki. Looking up the definition of a jinchuuriki would lead to a list of his most distinct traits and a warning to stay away.

How had he slipped by unnoticed?

Gaara was a classic case study of weak sealing- the steady fog of malevolent intent incongruous with his calm-faced exterior was a bit of a giveaway. The obvious fear displayed by his teammates made it painfully apparent that something was amiss, if absolutely nothing else.

What the hell was Konoha doing? Had they all collectively forgotten how to ninja, or was there a reason that they would allow an obvious jinchuuriki to wander the streets, undeclared?

No. Konoha had to know. Maybe… maybe it was a case of him coming into Konoha unremarked, rather than undetected. That fit the evidence better. But why would Konoha tolerate that?

'Sand is a traditional ally,' Aiko allowed. She stabbed a piece of karaage with the wooden pick and lifted it to her mouth. Hot juice spilled across her lips when she bit in, hastily licked away before it could make a mess. 'Maybe they're willing to go further than I thought to preserve that relationship.'

That… that possibility certainly fit in with what had happened after the chuunin exams invasion, that was for sure. Aiko frowned.

She needed to think more deeply on that. Just in case. She'd taken Konoha's quick assent to mended bridges as proof of Konoha's forgiving nature, as well as their desperation for any ally among the great nations when the largest two countries were Fire Country's dedicated enemies.

If that hypothesis was false- if the treatment of Suna was due to something intrinsic about their relations rather than desperation- then her goal might be harder to meet. It might require more drastic action than simply leaving Suna out to flap in the wind.

Well. There was always the several hundred kilometer long conclusion about why Konoha would prefer Suna to Kiri.

Her jaw clenched. The street food felt dry and tasteless in her mouth.

'I should go make sure my team is ready to go. The exams start in 14 hours. Is there anything I can do for them at the last minute?'

Aiko considered possibilities and discarded them just as quickly. With team 7, she'd sponsored bonding time- dinner, a sleepover, and one last check of equipment. But that didn't seem appropriate now, with a team that was nervous around her. It would be counterproductive. She'd already had her genin confirm their prepared status at the local office and….

Huh. She couldn't sense her ANBU team. Aiko felt an eyebrow raise, hidden in her bangs. Had they fallen back to a distance? Had her guard been lifted- no, that was ridiculously unlikely. It was possible that the team had simply been given shift relief by a more experienced or paranoid unit.

Well. It shouldn't matter. If she didn't 'know' anything about her observers, than she certainly shouldn't react to changes in their patterns.

After the karaage, she managed to find takoyaki hot enough to burn her mouth and make the proprietor joke about her having a cat-tongue. It settled in her stomach and left her feeling lazy and satisfied. She could go back and lay down, but it seemed like the spell would break and she'd go back to feeling like a caged animal in a place that should have been hers. Aiko was already walking, so she tossed her trash and let her feet carry her unthinkingly.

She did make one errand that lifted her spirits when her wanderings took her past a bookstore. Clever, clever Jiraiya. It really was a good time to schedule a release of a special edition- people would be in Konoha from the many countries with embargoes on his work. He'd make bank, not the black market that moved his work across borders.

'To be fair, he's probably involved in the black market as well.'

Aiko admired Jiraiya's business acumen even as she purchased her copy and sealed it away in a scroll. The proprietor gave her an odd look and put away the blue plastic bag she'd offered, but Aiko was done fucking around with the security of her Icha Icha.

The Icha Icha situation was, quite frankly, becoming ridiculous.

The last copy she'd dared to carry around had been confiscated by Suna when they captured her in the desert. The one before that she'd been forced to abandon due to Obito's sudden onset of jackassery, and then it'd been taken as evidence by Konoha before she got back.

Frankly, she didn't fucking trust anyone to leave her books the hell alone. What was up with that, even? She loved her books, but they weren't that valuable or unique. There was no reason that this should keep happening to her. It was weird, that was what it was. Just plain weird.

Walking became easier as the dinner rush ended and people streamed home. She haunted the streets until curfew forced her in, although she kept to back streets to avoid the crush of bodies. Surely she was still being watched, but merely wandering the city wouldn't betray excessive familiarity, as long as she avoided shortcuts and retraced her steps to return to the hotel instead of taking another route.

Her genin were already abed when she checked in. Yuusaku stirred when she slid the door open and counted bodies, but the others were fast asleep. He blinked heavily and made eye contact. Then he made a displeased sound and disappeared back under the covers. Aiko smiled wryly and closed the door.

It was all rather endearing, but it didn't bode well for their survival odds.

Well.

'Let them rest,' Aiko decided. 'They'll need it. And perhaps they just feel safer here. They should be more alert sleeping outside. If nothing else, they'll set a watch.'

If nothing else, the following morning brought the relief that her brats were at least sensible enough to make it to the exam room. She stood outside the exam center just long enough to see the poor fools who'd failed that pre-test stream out, dejected.

It took a surprisingly long time for events to commence. She didn't remember that, but then, she'd been busy with Anko at this point in her.. She'd been with Anko at the time before.

The foreign adults mostly milled around, waiting for further information. When the jounin were finally invited to observe the proceedings of the first event, Aiko joined nearly all the other teachers. She fell to the back of the line filing into a room that resembled the jounin lounge.

There was something a little odd, though, she noticed. There were certainly Konoha jounin in the room- but most of them weren't the genin teachers. There were a few teachers for older teams, she saw, but.. Kakashi, Kurenai, Gai, Asuma… nowhere in sight.

'Why would they separate the Konoha sensei, I wonder?'

Aiko slowly unwrapped a piece of gum and bit into it. She crushed the silver wrapper in her fist before tucking it in a pocket. Genma, who happened to be standing next to her, gave her a curious look.

His lips worked where he would normally have a senbon, and something brightened in his face. "I'll buy you a coffee in exchange for a piece of gum," he offered casually. He leaned into her personal space, just close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her left sleeve.

Aiko was already reaching for the pack when his words registered. She glanced up at him incredulously. Was he flirting-

oh.

Oh.

Her gaze fixed on his smile, slightly crooked and displaying teeth that perfectly straddled the boundary of 'white' and 'too white'. Her heart shuddered uncertainly in her chest.

He smelled like the reinforced padding in his flak jacket and the same weapon's polish she'd always favored, paired with the 'scentless' Konoha type soap that actually had some notes of pine. He smelled like home and safety.

There had always been rumors about Genma being a flirt, but she'd never seen evidence before. Of course, he was… what, fifteen years her senior? So that previous lack of evidence made sense. Only a true, Jiyaiya-level creep would be so shameless as to flirt with someone who he should see as a child.

'Well. Actually. He's not that much older than me now,' she reasoned. 'Four years isn't a significant different for two people in their twenties.' When Genma reached out to take the candy from her, warm, calloused fingers accidentally brushed over hers. He was quite attractive, actually. God, look at those shoulders.

The look he gave her was entirely too pleased. That snapped her out of it.

It was probably far too late, but she rearranged her expression back into studied disinterest. "No need. Sometimes a person really needs gum." Pointedly, she wrinkled her nose and turned away from his breath slightly.

Genma's eyebrows rose slowly. Someone nearby snickered but she couldn't see who.

That was when the lights dropped.

Aiko tensed, shoulders drawing in. She cursed the reaction immediately but it was too late to do anything about it. How dark was it? How impaired was normal vision? She had no idea from her own senses. But logic told her the room was probably only dim enough to make viewing a screen easy.

…Genma, at least, had definitely seen that reaction.

Well.

'He won't know what to think about it. He'll probably just think I'm easily startled. Maybe even that I'm on edge about sudden environmental changes when in a small room full of high-level shinobi without a single ally.'

Actually.. yeah. That was a much more plausible explanation than secret night blindness.

A screen flickered to life- no, it was wavering, undulating along a loosely hung sheet. It was a projection. Aiko leaned back against the wall and watched what she could see. The display was bright enough- the problem was more that taller jounin were blocking the bottom part of the screen. Still, she saw her genin file into view, along with a whole host of others.

Her eyes darted across the distant room, cataloging genin mostly by hairstyles and what little could be discerned of their clothing from the ceiling camera. Team 7 bounced in near the middle of the group, in a mob of Konoha shinobi. Others filed around, spilling into the corners of the room and perching on desks.

Her genin had been some of the first in, and secured a desirable position against the wall. It was pointless, since Ibiki would split them and make them move, but Aiko still felt a little proud of how sensible her brats were being.

Ibiki entered like a hurricane, sending genin scattering in fear. She repressed a snort.

'Pity that there's no sound. I wonder what he's saying.'

The genin took seats according to verbal instructions. As Ibiki paced and pontificated, Aiko felt her attention wander. Her eyes were adjusted enough that she could make out darker silhouettes in the room around her, but not much more. The assembled jounin were quiet, breathing nearly in unison with nary a fidget. She could smell-

Aiko didn't let herself still, turning her face in continued perusal of the room she couldn't actually see.

She smelled mint. Genma was breathing in her direction, which meant he was watching her even as she was turned away from him. Surely the back of her head wasn't too stimulating, no matter how much of a flirt he was. She focused her attention on him without looking over. Aiko tried to hear his breathing, to pick up on the subtleties of his chakra to guess at his level of agitation or interest. Nothing came of it- he was too good, of course he was.

'Well. Of course the Konoha jounin are here to watch us. Is he here to monitor me in specific?'

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. She had the oddest impression that she could almost hear someone talking in the distance, a voice distorted and low. Aiko swallowed. Okay, that was weird. There shouldn't be anything wrong with her hearing. Was it her imagination acting up? She was more than a bit on-edge. God, she was so paranoid that she was trying to convince herself that she was hearing things. She needed a break, desperately.

She turned her attention back to the screen, portraying obliviousness to Genma's attention.

The test had started. Ryuusei was staring down at his sheet, pencil still as if he was waiting for the answers to the universe to bubble up in the answer space. Yuusaku was making lazy, sure markings that would certainly draw someone else to cheat off of him. If she knew him at all, he was marking wrong answers. She felt her lips curl into a smile. And her last duckling, Keisuke, was-

Aiko felt a deep sigh rise in her chest.

Keisuke had flipped his sheet over and was drawing a slightly wobbly kunoichi with improbably shaped breasts and… demon horns. Her hair and clothes were uncomfortably familiar, although shocking liberties had been taken with the neckline. The hip holster was spot-on, though.

'Little shit. Honestly. He seemed so quiet and well-behaved.'

That phrase caught in her mind, ringing like a bell. Shit. That was classic, wasn't it? Textbook misdirection. Aiko tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling mournfully.

'I can't believe I fell for that crap. I didn't notice a genin leering at me because I thought he was the least troublesome one.'

Pride aside, it was… It was kinda gross, Aiko reflected. Children are gross.

"Children are gross," she said aloud.

Someone gave her an odd look. A few people might have taken a step away from her. Probably wasn't personal. Certainly they were just trying to get a better view of the projection as it cycled through camera feeds.

Her brats made it through the test, along with about half of the teams. When the screen focused on Sakura's beaming relief as results were announced, Aiko looked away.

'She's going to be dead before the end of the day.'

It would be nice to forget that. It would be really, really nice to forget that.

An anomaly in the crowd drew her eye. Genma. He was too still in her peripheral. He was definitely watching her, not the screen. Had he caught the image that had prompted her to look away? He shouldn't have, but she had shit luck. Who else had been displayed at that moment? Could her motion be attributed to boredom or distraction, given her careless statement minutes ago about distaste for children? How should she play this off?

'Deflect. Make him think that something else is going on in my head, that it wasn't about the video feed.'

Deliberately, she turned her head and made eye contact as if sensing his attention had been what prompted her to look away from the screen. His features started to shift into false sheepishness, a hand moving to the back of his neck. Aiko tilted her head minutely, let her mouth twist into a wicked little smirk, and then slowly, obviously, ran up and down his body. When she made it back up to his eyes, the pretense of embarrassment at having been caught staring was gone, replaced by something sly and hungry.

She had just thought to deflect by leering- not to actually do anything. But.

He looked like he wanted a chance to get her naked and mouth at every centimeter of her flesh. He looked like an excellent distraction.

A warm thrill simmered in her body, too low for her to pretend the sensation was in her stomach. She lifted her head just slightly in challenge, flashing her neck.

Then she broke the stare and walked for the door.

Her pulse quickened when he followed.

His gaze was towards the exit when he stepped into the hallway, clearly looking to follow her out the building. He was looking the wrong way. She shut the door and slammed him into the wall, one hand in his collar and the other curled around the wrist that had reached for a weapon. There was a tense moment, then he let her press his wrist against the wall by his head.

"Not that I mind-" his amused tone hitched when she put her teeth to his neck to shut him up, deflecting from his mouth. She didn't want to kiss him-that was too personal. She licked. He made a sound she wouldn't have heard if she hadn't been against his throat. Something fierce uncoiled in her chest even as she was pressing a knee between Genma's legs.

She could feel his pulse jumping through her lips. She'd done that. The knowledge was intoxicating. Aiko smiled, and then scraped her inhumanly sharp teeth gently against his Adam's apple. Casually, she moved a finger to the underside of the wrist she held, checking at his pulse. It was just as fast- of course it was, but that was somehow thrilling. Was he intimidated, or just excited? Did he know that she could rip out his throat with her teeth, if she wanted?

"Uzu.-" He swallowed.

She smiled against the skin. Instead of answering, she squeezed his wrist.

It took Genma a moment to gather himself. "There's a- room upstairs," he managed.

Aiko really did not give a single shit. But she liked the way that his breath hitched. "What kind of room?" She moved her hand from his collar to the zipper, pausing a moment to check his expression. Genma's pupils were blown wide open and fixed on her hand. She tugged it up pointedly, then tilted it down as if she was going unzip the jacket.

"Yes." Genma twitched against her, as if he wanted to push her off and take control. He seemed to remember that hadn't been the question. "Control room. Or something."

Aiko huffed. "Konoha," she drawled, the irritation of the last months welling up again. "How welcome am I near classified material?" She pulled the flak jacket open and pushed it halfway off his shoulders. Yes. They were as nice as she'd thought. Aiko ran her fingers up and greedily squeezed at the muscles.

Genma sucked in a breath, and that was when she realized it'd been a test. God only knows what would have happened if she'd taken the chance to get close to sensitive equipment. Little shit. It was probably a trap. She'd walk in and ANBU would drop from the ceiling, and she probably wouldn't get to get anyone naked at all. Aiko bared her teeth and pushed him further into the wall, irritated. He finally spoke up again. "Utility closet." Genma jerked his head left.

That was a better suggestion.

"Come on." Aiko tugged.

"I have to disagree with Hatake. She's definitely an aggressive personality," Genma described. He slumped against the wall , picking idly at his teeth with his senbon. A truly brutal bruise was starting to bloom above the collar of his flak jacket, but he didn't seem to care. "Maybe she was having an off-day in Wave, or sticking to a role. She's quiet enough to get the drop on me and put me against a wall. Fast enough to catch me from reaching for a weapon- the thing with Gai wasn't a fluke." He nodded in acknowledgment to the other jounin, who was looking uncharacteristically serious. "I agree that she's dangerous, in theory at least."

"You did take a long while to report. I suppose she was also strong enough to keep you captive," Kakashi drawled without looking up from his book. "Next time we'll send a rescue team into the utility closet. Did she use the mop to incapacitate you? I bet it was the mop."

Genma shrugged. "It isn't fraternizing with a target if they initiate. I was told to get close, not how." He paused. "She's fairly hot, too. How certain is the Sandaime that she's secretly fifty years old? I don't buy it. There's no illusion that holds up to that much contact, unless she's got a Tsunade-level physical transformation going on." He sucked air in through his teeth. "If so, don't tell me. I want to keep that memory the way it is."

Kurenai made a disgusted sound at the crude basis for his analysis, but didn't disagree. She wouldn't know, really. She'd been watching the real-time exam with Asuma to call out camera shots to look for while Gai and Kakashi watched the foreigners watch the time-delayed version. But she'd paid enough attention to tune in when Kakashi let out a heavy sigh. She'd watched disbelievingly as Genma had followed his target away from the cameras too eagerly for a semi-public makeout session like a horny teenager. She'd nearly laughed, though, when Genma tried to trick Uzumaki into walking into the control room. That would have been… Well. It hadn't happened, in any case.

"While I, too, am overjoyed for our comrade's wealth of energetic activities with many new surprisingly youthful friends, perhaps we might address the matter at hand?" Gai gave an incongruous thumbs-up. "The safety of our beautiful young comrades is paramount! I, for one, am not yet convinced about the presence of such a mysterious person with a demonstrated interest in Konoha's bright blooming youths."

Genma eyed Gai suspiciously. He was never certain that the younger jounin wasn't just fucking with him. "Well," he started slowly. "I'm not a miracle worker. I determined that Uzumaki-san knows I was there to observe her. I don't yet know if she knows that I know she knows I'm her watch. I need to spend more time with her to narrow that down and determine a course of action and whether it's going to be plausible to turn her."

"She isn't attached to her team," Kurenai opined. "I read her as being more dutiful last night. If she wasn't lying about having no prior commitment to Kirigakure, they have something on her now. Unless we can eliminate that element, persuasion is irrelevant."

Asuma shook his head. "Maybe she just doesn't like kids. That'd explain your impression that there's little to no team connection. I don't buy that Kirigakure sent an unknown to represent them in Konoha. Yagura's a wildcard, but he's not insane. Unless he wants to provoke war, which would be particularly…" Asuma sucked in air through his teeth. "Imprudent," he decided.

"Is there another way to reconcile those possibilities?" Genma pulled the senbon out. "What circumstance could lead to a shinobi not being an unknown that Kiri wouldn't risk sending as a representative, but still make it plausible that she told Kakashi in good faith that she had no village attachment?" He nodded in deference towards the other jounin, who was both younger and more experienced.

He didn't think that Uzumaki had slipped a direct lie past Kakashi. She was good at deflection, at making someone look the wrong way for the trick- but he didn't peg her as an especially skilled infiltrator. No. She was something else, unless this was a helluva long con in action.

Kurenai crossed her arms and hummed. "Some sort of contractor situation?" she guessed, unenthusiastic about the theory. "Uzumaki could be a free agent who has worked with Kirigakure before."

"Or she could be on the outs with Kirigakure," Asuma said. He looked out the window, clearly bored with re-hashing what they'd all witnessed and discussed. "Kiri doesn't exactly have a high satisfaction rate. It could be that she feels the current administration is no place where she belongs. God only knows there's ten or so different factions of opinion on Kirigakure's reformation."

Kurenai nodded slowly. "That would fit, but not explain why she is here now. Unless Kirigakure recently had a change of administration leadership or policy that brought her back into the fold."

There was a moment of quiet.

Kakashi sighed, lifting his head. "That's where my money is. In order to determine the level of threat and likelihood of poaching Uzumaki from Kiri, we need to find out who is holding her leash and why she's cooperating with them." He shut his book and slipped it away. "The only thing to do is wait for our agent to return with information. But in the meantime, I don't like the way she flinched when the camera was on my genin. That looked like guilt to me."

Genma snorted. "I can't say. I wouldn't have known that was what had happened from watching her. Are you sure about the volume on these things?" He indicated the tiny black machinery that had been fished out of his ear with senbon and a prayer. "She tensed up when Asuma told me which shot was coming up next. I could swear she'd heard."

Kakashi's brow wrinkled. "Extremely unlikely. An Inuzuka could at that distance. I might pick out the communication, if I was paying attention. But we don't have any reason to assume she has augmented hearing capabilities."

He let the corollary hang.

Asuma said it anyway. "Don't have any reason to believe she doesn't, either, aside from it not being an Uzumaki bloodline." He snorted, disgusted. "That we know of. Whose to say? That's not exactly the kind of fabled ability that goes down in history, and the Uzumaki that any of us have personally known could hardly be called representative samples."

Genma's mouth twisted to the side. True enough. "That raises the question again of why Kiri had an Uzumaki, assuming she's not either an independent contractor or improbably well-preserved." Distaste colored his tone. "I gotta say, the only option coming to mind is unpleasant."

Kakashi looked away. No one else seemed to want to respond to that.

Kiri'd been one of the countries that destroyed Uzushiogakure- no Uzumaki in their right mind would have chosen to go there. It made much more sense that Kiri had captured some in hopes of making a more stable jinchuuriki, or gaining some kind of sealing knowledge.

If they went by appearances, this woman was about twenty- she wouldn't have been born when Uzushiogakure fell. That meant she hadn't been taken prisoner- she'd be a generation removed. It seemed like the kind of thing that Kumo had tried on Kushina and even the little Hyuuga princess. They'd probably taken a young woman or two captive and tried to manufacture their own loyal Uzumaki.

It made the target's slightly less proto-typical Uzumaki features take on an unpleasant pallor, to say the least. One parent with white or blond hair and dark eyes could explain how her features deviated from well-recorded clan norms.

Well. Genma shoved his hands in his pockets. "This is pleasant and all, but I'll see you tomorrow." He made a face. "We have a long day of surveillance tomorrow."

Kurenai huffed agreement. "I am exceedingly fond of training ground 44," she said in a dry sort of tone that implied the exact opposite. "I look forward to the opportunity. I only wish that you were so lucky as to join us, instead of your current task. I know how you suffer watching Uzumaki."

Genma didn't manage to hide a grin. He did have the better assignment.

"That's the spirit." Kakashi ambled to the door, happy to leave the building. The genin were getting briefed, and the foreigners had all been cleared out and escorted to their accommodations before they'd dared to begin this discussion.

Frankly, it was time to go home.

The signal came during that first night of the test in the Forest of Death. Aiko startled awake, reaching for a weapon. She'd trapped the absolute hell out of her quarters, now that there was no risk of genin stumbling into them for the time being. She could hiraishin to her students without much risk of someone getting into the hotel room. At least, not without leaving signs that-

She paused in the middle of adjusting her weaponry.

The seal calling for her attention wasn't in the Forest of Death. It was in Mizugakure.

"That seems… bad," Aiko said to herself. Her tone across dubious even to her own ears.

That meant Utakata or Mei. Both options meant there was a fairly good chance that she was talking into either a disaster they couldn't deal with, or a trap to kill her and replace her.

Well. Utakata was less likely to kill her, unless he was still really hurt. He thought that she'd consciously tricked him into helping her avenge herself on Mizugakure, and honestly, that made so much more sense than what she'd really done that there didn't seem to be much point in attempting to exonerate herself.

She suited up quickly, not bothering to wear the Kiri-style uniform since she wasn't representing anyone in Konoha at the moment. It was the work of a moment to pull herself across a distance that would take a lesser woman a good week and a half to cross, if that lesser woman happened to be an elite ANBU.

"As punctual as ever," Mei greeted calmly, and that didn't make much sense. Were they pretending to have a rapport? Was that what was happening?

Mei was in a uniform, hair pulled back professionally. Two hunter-nin were standing at opposite ends of the room. The interesting thing, however, was a prisoner bound on his knees at Mei's feet.

Aiko rolled with it, nodding graciously to her nominal subordinate. "How lovely to see you. Is this a social call?"

The prisoner looked up.

'Ah,' Aiko thought, closely followed by, 'Holy fucking shit.'

"Konoha has kindly sent someone to express interest in our political affairs," Mei explained cooly. She looked as though she might give the poor man a kick for good measure. She wouldn't, though. Not her style. "I was wondering what sort of accommodations you would like to offer our esteemed guest, and what length his stay might be. It is considered most polite not to invite guests long-term without input from the head of the household," she breezed, and if that didn't sound pointed, Aiko didn't know what would. It was probably some kind of follow-up joke to a conversation she'd had with the prisoner before.

Aiko looked at the poor bastard and didn't rub at her temples. She didn't. She just really wanted to. "Have you checked for wood clones?" she asked Mei wearily.

Yamato shot to his feet in unison with the fake hunter-nin who lunged at Aiko from behind, swinging. It was an exceedingly foolish move- Yamato was damn good, but he wasn't good enough to pick a fight in a room with two kage-level kunoichi and a hunter-nin. Aiko put down the clone with prejudice, but winced when Mei wasn't terribly gentle with the real man.

He hit the ground hard, bleeding from the back of his head. He'd probably have burns around his arms from the material that Mei had used to bind his arms in front in a way that had to be painful.

Typical.

The older kunoichi scowled at Aiko, calm facade thrown off. "I can't believe that. You just happened to know this specific Konoha nin?"

She considered and dismissed several obnoxious responses, including, "I know everything," and "I always ask that question, don't you?" In the end, Aiko settled for sighing and rolling a shoulder. "Oddly, yes."

Mei eyed her suspiciously a moment before she accepted the answer as it was. The older woman sighed. She crossed her arms. "Well. What do you think?"

Aiko toed at Yamato's leg. He didn't move. "I think that this is going to be a diplomatic nightmare."

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity #AIC #Aiko in Canon

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