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homoose · 4 years ago

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Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part IV

Summary: The Halloween parade. Will and JJ are adorable. Anita suggests that Spencer become a classroom volunteer. Reader has a rough week.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a smidge of angst

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: I wish we’d seen more of Will and JJ as parents because I imagine it would be adorable and hilarious. Let’s see if you can guess all of their costumes before the reveal lmao. Your only clue is that Spencer loves keeping with a theme and the brown vest (I literally learned how to make my own shitty gif bc I couldn’t find the right one in the search and I do not understand embedding lmao) makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

———

“Did you grab the bags?” JJ swept the pleated, platinum braid out of her face as she bent over to zip up her boots.

“No, I thought you did,” Will called, bouncing down the stairs.

“I put them in the car already,” Spencer informed them, popping his head back in the front door. “There was just the one box, right?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Will confirmed. “Shit— where’s Michael’s sword?”

“Should be on the counter,” JJ huffed, standing up and adjusting the bodice of the blue dress.

“Got it.” Will came around the corner of the kitchen, patting his hips where his pockets would be— if he weren’t wearing an adult-sized onesie. “Keys?” Spencer held them up. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

The trio headed to the waiting SUV, Spencer climbing into the backseat as Will and JJ got into the front. Will and JJ chattered on about dinner plans and schedules for the following week, and Spencer smoothed down the brown wool vest layered over his white linen shirt. He’d spent entirely too long putting together the costume over the last week (with a little help from Penelope). He’d scrapped the Spock getup he’d been working on since September— he could always wear that next year. But he’d only get one chance to attend the Room 105 Halloween parade, and once the idea had wormed its way into his brain, he had to make it happen.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be able to pick Michael up on Monday?”

He ran his hands down his thighs over the mint green cropped trousers. “Sure, as long as we don’t have a case.”

Will smirked at him in the rear view mirror. “How’s Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You’re about to see her yourself, so you can ask,” Spencer replied.

Will laughed, and JJ turned in her seat. “Whoa, coming in hot with the snark. You really do like her.”

Spencer fought and failed to keep the blush from rising, irritation at being teased blooming sharp inside his chest. He tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. “She’s a great teacher.”

“That’s not a no,” JJ noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s Michael’s teacher,” Spencer said, like it meant something.

“Yeah, so?” Will shrugged his shoulders. “You’re his godfather. Technically, you’re not related, so it wouldn’t be breakin’ any rules.”

“Well, it’s not like that, so it doesn’t really matter,” Spencer insisted.

Will hummed and JJ turned back around in her seat. Spencer drummed his fingers on his knees and watched DC roll past through the SUV window. It really wasn’t like that. Y/N was just… very nice. A nice, beautiful, sweet, silly kindergarten teacher that he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how many books he read or coffees he drank or chess games he played.

Monday was the last day of his sabbatical, and he was even more relieved to be headed back than usual— grateful that he’d have something to occupy his mind other than her. Because his mind was, indeed, occupied. The way her smile beamed like the spotlight on a stage, illuminating whoever happened to be on the receiving end. The way her hands moved in unbound, buoyant illustrations of her thoughts. The way her laugh felt like the first warm sip of tea or the wrap of his favorite scarf. It was getting out of hand, to say the least.

Will pulled into the parking lot, and instantly Spencer’s palms began to sweat. He glanced at the headband on the seat beside him and felt the mortification clawing at his insides. The costume was ridiculous; he was ridiculous. He should have just worn the Spock outfit.

Maybe he could just wait in the car and pretend like he hadn’t been able to make it. Or he could just leave the headband in the car. But then he’d just be in mint green capris with a sweater vest and platform sandals, and she’d have absolutely no idea who he was supposed to be. Then he’d have to explain it, and it would be even worse.

Will parked the car, and he and JJ immediately stepped out. Spencer watched them near the hood of the SUV, enjoying a rare moment of co-parenting without work hovering right out of frame. Will pulled the hood of the onesie up and JJ laughed, brushing her hand over the brown fabric twigs sticking out of the top. He supposed that if Will Lamontagne, Jr. could strut his stuff in adult footie pajamas, his handmade costume was probably all right.

With one last resigned sigh, Spencer slid the headband on. He grabbed the box of Halloween treats, opened the door, and hauled himself out of the vehicle. He pushed the door closed and looked in the reflection of the window, adjusting the headband around his curls and blowing out a breath.

“Ready?” JJ called, peering around the side of the SUV.

“Yeah—yeah,” Spencer agreed. He moved around the vehicle to join them, the three of them walking to find a spot in the crowd of parents standing around the carpool loop.

When they found a suitable spot, Will looked up at him and shook his head. The sandals added three extra inches to Spencer’s height, putting him a good six inches taller than Will. “Those shoes make you look like an actual giant,” Will chuckled. “I know that’s the point, but I feel like even more of a shrimp next to ya now.”

Spencer set the box of candy bags on the ground and would have shoved his hands into his pockets if the linen trousers had any. Before he could respond, JJ pointed to the door of the school, cooing, “Oh my god, look. Remember when the boys were that small?”

The PreK classes came out first, and Spencer could acknowledge that they were very cute, barely out of the toddler stage and holding hands with a line buddy. But he was waiting on a very specific cutie.

He’d barely had the thought when the kindergarten classes started to emerge from the door. He almost didn’t recognize her at first— just an orange blob and green shrubbery. But the converse gave her away.

“How is she so cute?” JJ threaded her arm through Will’s. “Even when she’s dressed as a giant orange blob.”

“It’s a gift,” Will agreed. He glanced up at Spencer. “Right, doc?”

Spencer nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “I think so, yeah.” Will grinned and bumped JJ’s shoulder, but Spencer barely even registered his own response.

Thankfully they’d picked a spot near the very end of the loop, so he had plenty of time to get himself together before she was in front of him. While Will and JJ waved at all the tiny superheroes and princesses, he watched Y/N. She was all orange fabric from her shoulders to her knees, with bright orange Chucks to match. On her head was a strange variation on a party hat, bright green ferns sprouting from the tip of the cone and falling into her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and he was in so much trouble.

When the class finally approached the final curve of the loop, Will nudged Spencer and gestured to the box of goodie bags. Spencer crouched down and lifted the box, standing back up to see Y/N laughing at Will and JJ. “Very cute, Lamontagne Family.”

Her gaze traveled across, then up, and then her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Spencer wondered if maybe the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh my god, are you—?” She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over the vest, and he didn’t dare breathe. “Are you the BFG?!” Her hand dropped from his torso, and he didn’t have time to be disappointed before her face split into quite possibly the biggest smile he’d seen from her yet.

A tiny Superman shouted, “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re making a gap!”

Y/N came back to herself, gesturing to all three of them. “Don’t go anywhere.” She accepted the offered box of treats from Spencer and then turned to help her class catch up.

Will gave him a look. “It’s not like that, huh?”

“Oh my god, she likes you.” JJ clapped her hands together. “This is amazing.”

“I’m takin’ credit for this,” Will bragged. “I’m a regular ol’ matchmaker.”

Spencer couldn’t even be bothered to attempt a denial. He was still thinking about the feel of her palm on his chest, how it might feel to hold her hand, the way her eyes practically sparkled when she saw his ridiculous headband. He was in so much trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the classes filed back out into the parking lot for dismissal. Y/N led the class down the sidewalk, grinning at the excitement coursing through her line. As they approached the end of the loop, Y/N caught sight of them and waved. The kids lined up in their normal spot, chatting excitedly about their costumes and candy bags.

“Lord, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re something else,” Will laughed.

“Is it not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen?” She laughed and tapped the green shrubbery hanging in her face. “I have the kids do a little persuasive writing thing every year. They draw a picture and write a sentence about what they think Ms. Y/L/N should be for Halloween, and then we take a vote.”

She waved her hands in that way Spencer loved, the way that was so similar to his own. “Usually the options are pretty tame, you know—ghost, witch, bumblebee. This year was a near tie between runner-up Jojo Siwa and well,” she gestured at herself, “carrot.” Y/N cackled, and the leaves on top of her head shook with the action.

They all laughed along with her, and then JJ added, “The details are truly incredible. Is this an actual plant on your head?”

“I really thought about it,” Y/N laughed, “but no, it’s just fake ferns stuffed into a cardstock funnel.” She gestured at Will and JJ. “But also, excuse me— this family costume is ridiculously cute. Mr. Lamontagne, loving this onesie. Mrs. Jareau, I didn’t even know it was possible to look prettier than you usually do, but here you are. And Michael’s Anna costume?” She held her hands up. “Incredible. Show stopping. I wish I had an aunt Penelope to enlist the help of, because that cape is the actual height of fashion.”

“She helped Spence, too,” JJ prompted, stealing a glance in his direction.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N asked, turning to smile at Spencer.

“We um, 3D printed the ears,” he clarified.

“No way!” She took a step closer to him, peering up at the detail on the headband. He leaned down a little for her to get a closer look. “That is so cool. I’ve never actually seen anything 3D printed up close before— did you design them yourself?”

She met his eyes briefly, and he realized how close they were— close enough that he caught the faintest whiff of sandalwood and cardamom. Of course she even smelled like warmth and home. “Well. I, um— I drew a sort of sketch, I guess. And then Penelope did the software coding. I— I’m not very good with technology, honestly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the plastic, and he decided she was really trying to kill him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really understand how it works.”

“Well, first you create a blueprint file of the design you want to print, which you can do through modeling software or three-dimensional scanning. Then you convert the file into an STL file— named for Stereolithography which was the first ever 3D printing process. The STL file is made up of triangular mesh polygons, which is the data that describes the surface of a three-dimensional object. After that, you use a software program to complete the process of slicing— essentially dividing or chopping the 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers that the printer can print one at a time to create the 3D object. And then the printer prints each layer until you have your finished product.”

Y/N was quiet, and he pulled back to see her grinning at him. “I thought you said you weren’t very good with technology?”

“I’m not good with using technology,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Gotcha. So you just know everything about it.”

Her joking tone had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I read a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I can read at a rate of 20,000 words per minute, so… a lot.”

Her eyebrows shot up into the tangle of ferns on her head, and he was just so overwhelmed by how adorable she was. “Well, if I ever have a question about anything, I know who I’m coming to.”

He was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “I’m happy to answer any and all of your questions.”

She let her gaze travel over the rest of the costume. “Oh my god, the sandals! Man, you really nailed it. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I thought about being Trunchbull, but I couldn’t find the sweatshirt,” he joked.

She laughed, and he wanted to bottle it up to keep forever. “As much as I would have loved to see your hair in a bun… you’re much too sweet to have been able to pull that off.” She smiled softly at him. “Much more suited to our friend the BFG.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and it was only then that he realized Will and JJ had gone to the car. He looked back to Y/N, opening his mouth but unsure of what he was going to say.

“Y/L/N!” He turned his head to see Anita jogging toward them. “Did you—” The giant cardboard box she was wearing knocked into one of the few kindergarteners left in Y/N’s line, nearly sending them to the ground. “Oh my gosh, sorry sweetheart!” She righted the startled child, and Spencer gave her a once over, completely at a loss as to what her costume could be.

“What in the world are you supposed to be?” Y/N asked, choking out a laugh.

Anita looked at her deadpan. “A monopoly piece. Remind me that I’m never participating in team costumes ever again.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at Y/N. “Next year I’m gonna wear an orange t-shirt, call myself a carrot, and be much more comfortable.”

“I’ll have you know this costume was a lot of work,” Y/N remarked, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure it was. You could have put on an orange dress, stuck a green pipe cleaner in your hair, and called it a day, but that’s not the Y/L/N way.” Anita’s eyes slid across to where Spencer stood. “Well, hello, doctor. I have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to be, but I love everything about it.”

“Spencer’s the BFG,” Y/N said, and Spencer could have sworn she sounded almost proud.

“Ah, Roald Dahl, of course.” Anita smirked. “I see you, Spencer. I see you.” She put her hands on her hips— or rather where her hips would have been if they weren’t covered by a ridiculously large box. “So, when are you going to volunteer?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Like, when are you going to volunteer in Y/L/N’s classroom?” She held up her hand, palm down, and made a circular motion between the two of them. “You know, hang out, but professionally.”

“Oh my god, did you need something?” Y/N’s squeaked, eyes wide.

Anita ignored her. “You just have to do a background check, but I’m sure you’ll pass it.”

“Lopez,” Y/N said, staring her down. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you got the email about the PD after school on Tuesday. But this was much more fun.” She winked at Spencer. “Bye, Spencer.”

They both stared after her as she nearly skipped across the grass to the building. Y/N turned to him. “I’m— so sorry.”

He met her eyes and took the leap. “Volunteering could be fun.”

He watched her press her lips together to contain her smile. “It could be.”

He didn’t bother containing his own. “I’ll um— I’ll shoot you an email.”

“I’ll respond to your email.”

…

When he walked in the door, Spencer made a beeline for his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account, writing as fast as his one-finger typing would allow.

Spencer Reid Re: Volunteering

Hi!

I’m just following up about volunteering. Anita mentioned a form that I needed to fill out? Now that I’ll be back to work, I’ll just need to plan around the BAU schedule. Could you give me a list of days that would work for you?

Really looking forward to seeing you in action.

Spencer

He checked his two other email messages, and then left the browser up while he thumbed through his most recent reading material.

He sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon, distractedly perusing his book and glancing at his empty inbox every minute or so. His gaze flew up to the screen at the ding of a new message at 6:30, only to find a promotional email from one of his favorite indie bookstores.

He closed his laptop with a sigh. It was a Friday night. Y/N probably just didn’t check her email on the weekend. He could wait until Monday. He’d see her on Monday.

He limited himself to checking his laptop twice a day on Saturday and Sunday. When Monday rolled around, he checked it in the morning. He leaned back against the leather of his chair, staring at the empty inbox. He had some errands to run, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a phone that had email on it.

He ran his last-day-of-sabbatical errands and stopped in at his favorite coffee shop for most likely the last midday, sit-down coffee he’d have for a while. Before he realized, it was 2:30. He brought his empty mug to the counter and waved to the barista. Then he walked to the car and prepped his conversation starters.

“Did you get my email? I sent you an email, just wondering if you saw it? Hey— Hello— Hi, I wasn’t sure if you got my email.” He blew out a breath. “Hi. How are you?” He waved his hand. “I’m great. Did you get my email?” He laughed into the empty car. “Ridiculous, Spencer. You’re ridiculous.”

When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart was racing and his palms were slipping against the steering wheel. He pulled around the loop, looking with a furrowed brow at the area where Y/N should be. In her place was a short woman with cropped grey hair. She held a clipboard and looked generally overwhelmed.

Michael sprinted to the car as soon as he saw it. He pulled open the door and let out a world weary sigh. Spencer turned in his seat. “Everything all right?”

“No, everything is terrible,” he huffed dramatically. “Ms. Y/L/N was sick today. Mrs. Franklin was our substitute, and she smells weird.”

Spencer looked through the window at Mrs. Franklin, struggling to keep a few rowdy boys in the line. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sure Ms. Y/L/N will be back soon.” He was secretly relieved that he had a potential explanation for the unanswered email.

“I can’t take another day of Mrs. Franklin,” Michael sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “I hope Ms. Y/L/N’s back tomorrow.”

Spencer let out a breath and pulled away from the curb. “Me, too.”

…

JJ huffed out a breath, glaring at the stack of paperwork in front of her. Spencer was nose deep in a book, but he glanced up at the sound. “I can take a few of those if you want,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’ve really only got six left.”

He looked at his watch. “Each report takes you approximately 37 minutes. With eight minute breaks in between, you’re not going to be out of here until almost 6:00.”

JJ laughed. “I can’t believe I missed out on these scathing performance reviews for thirty days.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his reading.

His first week back from sabbatical had been uneventful to say the least. The team had just wrapped a local case, and they’d spent the better part of the week going over consultations and potentials. It was finally Friday, and Spencer was finished with his stack of backlogged reports.

He was finishing the last chapter of the book when JJ dropped a string of quiet curses. He continued reading, waiting for her to ask. She was quiet for another minute.

“I forgot I’m on duty to pick Michael up today.” Spencer looked up at her, slight panic coming over him.

“I really don’t mind finishing your reports,” he offered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. “What, no offering to visit Ms. Y/L/N?”

Spencer closed his book. “I, um. I sent her an email a week ago, and she hasn’t responded.”

“So?”

“So…” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s weird, right?”

JJ laughed. “You don’t really use email, so I’d imagine your inbox is pretty orderly. But if you use it a lot, it can be easy for messages to get lost.” She looked at him pointedly. “I can almost guarantee that she’s not ignoring you, Spence.”

He sighed. “I guess there’s a quick way to find out.”

...

Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door of the school. He glanced at the clock, noting the class was later than they’d ever been. Without really understanding why, he pulled out of the loop and swung back around to park in the lot. He exited the car, and as he rounded the hood, he spotted them.

Y/N was at the front of the line, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and mouth pressed into a thin line. The line behind her was unlike he’d ever seen it. No waving arms, no smiles, no giggles. Twenty small bodies followed behind her with absolute and total solemnity, and he felt uncomfortable just watching them. It would have almost been funny if it wasn’t so dramatically out of character.

The line weaved around the more rambunctious classes, maintaining their grave expressions and quiet pace. They reached their spot on the sidewalk, and Y/N didn’t even have to say anything. Spencer watched as the line took their spots behind her. She held one hand up to acknowledge parents as they pulled up, murmuring stoic goodbyes to students as they headed to their vehicles.

He hung back at the hood of the car until the majority of the class was gone, slowly making his way across the parking lot. Y/N’s line of sight was pointed in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused in the afternoon sun. He could see the moment that she registered his presence, her eyes widening slightly and bottom lip releasing from the place she’d been absentmindedly chewing. She shifted her weight as he closed the final few feet between them.

“Hi.” She held a silent hand up in greeting. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Rough day?”

“It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, despite what everyone thinks,” she snapped. She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to the perfectly blue sky, mocking her mood. “I’m sorry. Yes, it was a rough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“You don’t deserve my wrath.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the students. “They didn’t either, but— too late for that.”

He watched as she lowered her head back down, rubbing a hand over her face. He desperately wanted to slay whatever dragons had given her normally brilliant eyes such a grey cast. “You have strong relationships with them, and kids are resilient. I’m sure they know you—”

“Please— don’t.” Her voice was thick, and she looked at him with desperate eyes. “I— I appreciate the thought, but I’m— I’m a frustrated crier.” Her shining irises proved her point. “And I’m just— I’m really just trying to keep it together for the last four minutes of my contract time.” Her words were practically a whisper, and she swallowed thickly and glanced down the line, just Michael and one classmate left, eyes downcast.

“I understand.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and touching her. “I’m sorry. I— I hope your weekend is better than today.”

Michael slowly left the line, murmuring a quiet goodbye to Y/N. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the car, stealing one last glance at a crushed Y/N.

...

Y/N Y/L/N

Re: Re: Volunteering

Hi,

I meant to respond to this email, and then a bunch of things happened, and then I was out all week.

I don’t know if you even still want to volunteer after this afternoon, but it felt rude to not respond at all.

I’ve attached the background check form to this email in case you’re still interested.

Y/N

1 Attachment: Background Check

—

Hi,

I meant what I said this afternoon. Your students love you, and they know you love them. If my conversation with Michael in the car was any indication, they’re feeling rightfully embarrassed and guilty about their behavior while you were out.

Regardless of what happened today, your relationships with your students are strong enough that they will come to school tomorrow knowing that you still care about them. Children don’t hold onto things nearly as much as adults.

It would be a privilege to volunteer in your classroom, even on the worst day.

Spencer

1 Attachment: Background Check - Spencer Reid

—

If I wasn’t already crying, I would be now.

Thanks for that.

No sarcasm intended. Really. Thank you.

—

This might be inappropriate, and if it is, please just pretend like this email doesn’t exist.

I have a favorite cafe in the DuPont circle area, Soho Tea & Coffee. They have an excellent tea drink made with honey and milk that I like to order whenever I’ve had a particularly difficult day.

If you’re up for it, it’s on me.

———

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fappellmoan · 4 years ago

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happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy ��

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin.

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend.

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence.

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

#stranger things #hawkinsholidayhiatus #tuserjake #byler #byeler #mike wheeler #will byers #fanfiction #playlist #ik it might be a lil cheesy/dorky BUT i hope it makes u smile it was written w a lot of love <3 #mine

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sincerelybubbles · 4 years ago

Text

A Long Time Waiting || Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Warnings: cursing, drinking, NSFW mentions (not much lmao), and pure fluff

Summary: You and Bakugou know each other better then anyone else. But will a close friendship become more with time?

5.8k words of fluff :))

You were definitely not panicking. Why would you be panicking? There was absolutely nothing to be panicking about. It’s not like you should care that the entire Yuuei academy seemed to be gathered in front of the stage waiting for you and your friends to step out. It’s not like you had heard them talking about how excited they were to see if you guys would mess up. When you guys would mess up.

This was ridiculous, you were training to be a pro hero. People would be watching and judging you for far more important things then dancing, for the rest of your life. You shouldn’t be so concerned about stepping on stage.

But, to think of it, this was so different then hero work. When you were training or helping in your internship, you had a mask on. People didn’t know your actual name or face; they only knew your costume and hero alias. This was different. Everyone out there knew your name and what you looked like and who you were. And they were waiting for you to mess up. They wanted you to mess up.

Although, since the sports festival, the people knew who you were already and had seen your face. Plus, people hated on heroes constantly and villains were waiting for you to mess up, so this wasn’t-

Your racing thoughts were stopped immediately with a hand placed roughly on your shoulder.

“Nervous?” A gruff voice spoke in your ear, and you jumped to see Bakugou leaning down, lips almost pressed to the side of your head so that you could hear him over the noise. You shook your head ‘no’ violently in a blatant lie. Anyone could tell you were nervous by the way you were wringing your hands in front of you, droplets of water leaking and creating a puddle down at your feet as you lost control of your quirk. “Good, because you have no reason to be. We’re going to kill them.”

You felt your eyes widen at his large smile, cheeks flushing.

“Did you just say ‘we’ Bakugou-kun?” You felt an arm slip around your waist and recognized it immediately as Mina, already able to picture the goofy smile on her face at Bakugou’s acceptance of your class. “Seems like you’re finally warming up to us!”

“No! Of course not, I said I’m going to kill them, get your hearing checked, dumbass.” You watched as Bakugou clashed his teeth together, almost growling at Mina.

“We shouldn’t kill anyone.” You piped up, a small, nervous smile finding its’ way on your face. “That would be bad, the rest of the school hates us enough without any murder charges.”

“You know what I meant.” Bakugou mumbled, shifting his weight and adjusting his hand so that his arm was resting on your shoulder as he reached forward to close the curtain you were looking out of. “We should get into our places.” He told the two of you before turning around and yelling at everyone to “get their shit together.”

Mina squeezed her arm around your waist, brining your attention back to her. You returned her concerned look with a wide smile, “He was right though, in his own way. You have nothing to be nervous about. We’re going to kill it.” You nodded, letting her words sink in before taking a deep breath and going to your place.

“Good, but make sure you aren’t hitting it at an angle, you’ll end up bruising your pinky.” You nodded at Kirishima’s directions, bouncing on the balls of your feet a few times before landing another punch on the heavy bag in front of you. At his nod, you landed two more in succession.

“Hey, Shitty Hair, I need your- Y/N?” Bakugou’s voice almost made you fall as you faltered in the middle of your swing, catching yourself on the punching bag in front of you.

“Hi Bakugou-kun!” You smiled at the blond, wiping the sweat from your brow and straightening your posture under his questioning eyes.

“What’s up, bro?” Kirishima asked Bakugou, coming out from holding the bag for you and mimicking your smile. At Bakugou’s confused expression Kirishima nudged you, “I was just helping Y/N train some, want to join us?”

“How are you able to help her?” Bakugou spit at Kirishima and you rubbed the back of your neck, looking at the ground sheepishly.

“Well, Sensei says I rely too heavily on my kicks because my legs are stronger than my arms, so Kirishima-kun was helping me learn to punch a bit better.” You lifted your head to meet Bakugou’s eyes, only to find them snapping suddenly to you, obviously attempting to not be caught staring at something else.

“You don’t want this idiot helping you, he doesn’t even punch right.” Bakugou’s tone was harsh, but you could sense a hint of a teasing nature in the way he crossed his arms over his chest, sending a glare to Kirishima that was less violent then his usual one.

“Okay Bakugou-kun, show us what you’ve got if you’re so much better.” Kirishima’s tone, on the other hand, was obviously playful as he side-stepped out of the way of the punching bag, holding his hands out in a motion to the equipment. “We were working on her technique rather than strength right now.”

Bakugou let out a sound somewhere between and scoff and a groan but lifted one of his arms in a gesture toward you anyway, “Show me what you’ve got.”

You turned back to the bag, a slight blush covering your cheeks as you did so, settling into your stance.

“Don’t stand like that.” Bakugou huffed, uncrossing his arms before walking over and tugging at your arm. “If you do, everyone’ll know where you’re going to punch. Keep your muscles tense without looking like a dumbass.” As he talked, Bakugou moved your arms to rest closer together and kicked at your legs slightly so that you looked less tense. “Keep your arms like this so that you won’t get hit in the chest or stomach.”

You threw a punch after a second, realizing that Bakugou was done talking and had stepped back. You hit the bag with more force then you intended, making the stand it was settled on rock slightly. Kirishima moved quickly to steady the bag, resuming his earlier position of holding it.

“Showing off, are we?” He asked, poking his head from around the bag and sending you his signature smile, pointed teeth on full display. You blushed but covered it with an overly sarcastic laugh.

“Ha ha” You rolled your eyes before turning to Bakugou, “How was that?”

His eyes widened at your sudden attention before he cleared his throat and stepped back up to give you more direction.

The three of you trained for another hour before you decided it was enough and you wanted to shower. You gave the pair your thanks, planning to meet up the next day after school to do more training.

You had barely shut the door behind you before you heard Kirishima break out in a laugh. “You couldn’t have been more obvious!” You heard him say gleefully. “Your eyes were practically glued to her legs!” Kirishima was laughing quite loudly, his voice echoing down the hall despite the closed doors.

You hurried to make your way down the hall and toward the bathroom, the sound of Bakugou’s denies growing faint as you shut the door behind you, leaning against it and letting out a shaky breath.

Bakugou wasn’t staring at your legs, was he? It was probably just because you said something about Sensei calling them strong. Why did you have to say that? You probably just embarrassed yourself.

You felt your cheeks warming and so you pressed your hands against them, activating your quirk to splash water to cool them down.

“Y/N!” You stopped the steady flow of water that you were manipulating in the air in front of you to look down at Mr. Aizawa to see him motioning for you to come to him. You made your way toward him on a small platform of water, trying your best to not get anyone around you wet.

“Yes sir?” You asked, sending him a curious look once you noticed Bakugou standing behind him, arms crossed and not meeting your eyes.

“Take Bakugou to see Recovery Girl, please.” The tired man asked you, earning a nod in response.

“I don’t need to see that old lady. What I need is to continue training.” Bakugou huffed, uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists by his side. You could make out a trickle of blood dripping down and to the floor.

You reached forward to grab his arm and noticed a gash on the underside of it. Bakugou seemed too startled to do anything as you examined it. “It’s not that bad.” You looked up at Aizawa, “Why can’t we just bandage him up?”

Your teacher shook his head, “Kirishima hit the concrete and Bakugou didn’t move fast enough. I’m worried about his head because it took most of the blow. Please make sure he gets there.” You nodded at your teacher.

“‘M fine.” Bakugou mumbled as you led him from the gym, loosely holding his wrist to ensure he followed you.

“We gotta make sure though. Here.” You pulled him to a stop before drawing water particles from the air surrounding you, gently rinsing the blood from his arm. You sent him a smile before circling his wrist in your hand once again, and beginning to walk down the hall.

You jumped slightly when you noticed Bakugou twisting his arm away. You turned to look at him, a scowl making its’ way onto your face before you felt him grab your hand.

“It’s weird to have you grabbing my wrist like that.” Bakugou complained. You chose to ignore the slight blush covering both of your faces as you continued to walk to the nurses’ station together.

You had not intended to get drunk tonight. Tipsy maybe but definitely not drunk. It was your last day at Yuuei and you wanted to remember it. The graduation ceremony was beautiful, and you managed not to cry as you walked across the stage. You did it, you were going to be a pro hero. So, as you entered the after party that you and your classmates had planned, you took a shot to celebrate.

And then took another because it was handed to you and you didn’t want to be rude. After that drinks were plentiful, and you ended up drunk. To be fair, most of your classmates also seemed to be in varying levels of drunk themselves.

Uraraka and Mina were dancing in the middle of the room, giggly and tripping over their feet. Kirishima was asleep on the floor under one of the tables, an empty wine bottle clutched to his chest. Midoriya was in the corner, crying and clutching his shoes to his chest in a tight hug, mumbling something under his breath as his fingers fiddled with the laces.

You were sitting in one of the chairs, dreading the walk back to your place. Everyone had moved out of the dorms a week ago and your place was a twenty minute walk away – manageable sober, but to your drunk mind twenty minutes felt like a lifetime and you really didn’t want to put back on your uncomfortable shoes that had already left blisters on your feet.

You watched, giggling to yourself, as Tokoyami and Sero played some sort of drinking game that you had never heard of before.

“Jeez, idiot, how much did you have to drink?” You turned your head too fast at the sound of a chair pulling up next to yours, leaving your vision spotted for a moment before your gaze focused on Bakugou. A promise you made to yourself forever ago weighed heavily in your heart, making yourself turn away from him.

You told yourself that you would never be the stupid girl with a crush in high school who couldn’t build up the courage to tell him that she liked them. It was dumb, something out of a stupid shojo anime, you wanted to be a hero for fucks sake. And yet, despite the promise you made yourself, you had fallen for Bakugou. Hard. And had yet to tell him.

He was always there. He helped you train, studied with you, and cared for you when you were sick or hurt. Granted, he pushed you to your limits while you trained, was a slightly impatient tutor, and endlessly called you stupid or a dumbass when you got sick or hurt, not to mention it was hardly ever you two alone. And yet, you could see beneath it all. He didn’t ever tell you anything outright, just lead you to conclusions you knew were true. And it was through this backwards way that you came to think that you knew more about him then yourself.

It was the extra servings he saved for you when he cooked; it was knowing what movies or shows you would like before you had even heard of them; it was the insistence that only he help you while you were hurt; it was the flowers he gave you earlier without a word that were now sitting your lap. Bakugou never outright said it, but you had a strong sense that he felt the same as you.

It was also knowing that, while he retired to bed early, he would stay up with little complaint if you asked to watch a movie; it was knowing that he insisted to hate sweets, but was always snagging yours whenever you baked them; it was knowing that he hated pickles and would eat anything if it was spicy. You also knew that when he was nervous he clenched his fists to build up sweat and when he was happy he grew louder. Teasing without obvious hatred was his way of accepting people. And, when he would let you, he really liked receiving your hugs, always lifting you a bit in the air on the rare occasion that there was a reason to hug,

Despite knowing that, despite feeling that you both knew each other so well and knowing you two clicked in some undeniable way, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. What if you thought wrong? He could just be trying to be a good friend. Or, more likely, you would tell him, and he would insist otherwise, despite both of you knowing the truth. And it would ruin everything.

Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes as the thought of never seeing him again after tonight entered your mind. You two would have nothing holding you together anymore. You were joining Edgeshot’s agency starting Monday and Bakugou was already in the process of starting his own. Of course he was, it was you who insisted he had the talent and that he should.

A warm tear slipped down your cheek. School held you two together and now that was over. And it was over for everyone in this room. Everyone was heading in so many directions that you couldn’t even remember them all. You silently thanked yourself for deciding to move in with Mina, before realizing that you were drunk crying over something stupid and lifting a hand to quickly wipe the tear away.

“Woah, hey.” Bakugou caught your wrist in one hand, lifting his other to cup your cheek and turn you to face him again. “What’re you crying for, dumbass, it’s a party. Only losers cry at parties and I can’t be seen with a loser.” Bakugou puffed his chest out, wiping at the tear with his thumb.

“So-orry.” You hiccupped. “I just realized that we’re probably not going to see each other anymore.” You closed your eyes, leaning your cheek into his hand slightly. You instantly blushed, realizing that he was still holding your face and that you had just nuzzled into it. Were you a fucking cat?

“Of course we’ll still see each other.” Bakugou said softly, then cleared his throat, speaking louder and dropping his hand from your face, “We live in the same building, dumbass.”

“We do?” You asked, shocked and finding it hard to focus as his hand was still holding your wrist loosely, dropped to hang in the space between the two of you.

Bakugou laughed, a sound that you froze to just enjoy for a moment. “Pinky didn’t tell you? I live two floors above you.”

“Oh.” Your head started nodding uncontrollably, “Then that’s good! Really good.” You could tell you were slurring through your speech and cursed yourself again for drinking so much.

“Should I tell you again in the morning, so you actually remember?” Bakugou asked, obviously holding back a laugh trapped in his throat.

“Yeah. Probably. You should also walk me home.” You gave him an awkward smile, laughing nervously at yourself, “I might get lost.” You admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Bakugou turned his head to look back at the party, “I was already planning to. Dumbass.” He released your wrist only to link your fingers through his own, not meeting your eye. You smiled to yourself, looking down at your lap holding the flowers he gave you earlier, face feeling flushed.

“Thanks, Bakugou-kun.”

You slammed the door behind you, only to not hear it shut. You turned around to see Bakugou holding it open, a shocked look on his face.

“Really?” He snapped, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, “You really were going to shut that in my face?” He growled, yanking his boots off of his feet.

“Sorry, but considering you walked five feet behind me the entire walk home and said nothing, I really didn’t get the feeling that you’d want to come inside.” You returned his snappy tone with an exasperated look. “What’s up with you today?”

“I can’t believe it had to be him.” Bakugou muttered, pushing past you and making his way into you and Mina’s kitchen.

“Listen, I’ve had a shitty day without all of this. So, either tell me what’s got you all pissy, drop it, or leave.” You followed Bakugou, rubbing your forehead to try and alleviate the pain you had been feeling all morning.

You had started the day with a migraine, run out of tea to drink, and were stuck doing paperwork all day for Edgeshot. Overall, you felt tense and annoyed; Bakugou’s attitude when he greeted you outside of your work to walk you home only made it worse, and you spent the entire walk home wondering why he even bothered to wait for you if he was so obviously annoyed at you.

“You went on a date with Tokoyami?”“ Bakugou asked you suddenly after a few moments of hesitation. His back was to you as he made coffee, and his voice would have sounded steely and indifferent if it didn’t crack in the middle of Tokoyami’s name.

“Who told you that?” You asked, brow scrunching in confusion.

“Oh, sorry, was it a secret?” Bakugou sneered, whipping around to face you, a glare fixed on his face, eyes closed off so that you couldn’t read anything behind them. “Sero mentioned it the other day. If you don’t want people knowing about your secret boyfriend you should be more careful, dumbass.”

“Bakugou.” You said, voice sounding tired as you stepped closer to him, setting your hand on his arm, feeling his muscles tense. “Our agencies are teaming up for a bit, so he treated me to lunch. What exactly did Sero tell you?”

Bakugou was quiet, fist clenching around the mug he was holding in one hand. The only sound for a moment was the water dripping in the coffee pot.

“He said you and Tokoyami went out to lunch and he had a lot of fun.” Bakugou said, the words tumbling out of his mouth, tripping over themselves as the blond spoke quickly and softly.

“It wasn’t a date, there were three other people there.” You reassured him as his head turned away from you in embarrassment, cheeks flushing. You dropped your hand to take the coffee cup out of his hand. Gently, you placed in on the counter before slowly looping your arms around his waist and tugging him toward you.

“What? What’re you doing?” Bakugou tensed in front of you for a moment before slowly relaxing and letting his arms fall over your shoulders and bring you tight against his chest. “I overreacted.” He admitted after a moment, drawing a laugh from you.

You decided to drop the subject, pulling away from the hug after Bakugou tightened it and lifted you off of the floor for a moment, causing you to laugh again.

“I’ll make you dinner, I don’t feel like letting you do it and putting out a fire.” Bakugou told you and you happily accepted, always excited to have him cook for you.

You didn’t approach the subject of his obvious jealousy until the next afternoon as the two of you walked home in full hero uniform.

“So, why did it bother you so much?” You asked, watching your feet with interest as you walked, not meeting his eye.

“Don’t be vague, it’s annoying.” Bakugou complained. “Why did what bother me?”

“Sorry. Why did the idea of me going on a date bother you?” You clarified, taking a deep breath to cool your nerves, telling yourself it was ridiculous to be so afraid of his answer. This was Bakugou, there was nothing to be so nervous about.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” Bakugou asked sharply, “Why do we have to talk about it more?”

Your heart was pounding. The apartment complex wasn’t far, and so you allowed the silence to linger as you two approached the building and climbed the stairs. You hesitated at your door step, knowing that he had night patrol and wouldn’t be able to come in, he was just walking you home on his break to keep routine.

You don’t know why you decided now was the moment, but you did know that you were tired of this. You didn’t want to loose a friendship because the both of you were too awkward to admit your feelings to each other.

Reaching out to stop Bakugou from walking away, you gripped his forearm, looking him dead in the eye, searching his face for some kind of answer to the words you hadn’t spoken yet.

“I’ll wait however long I need to for you. It’s scary, but I know it’s true. So, take your time if you want, but don’t waste it being jealous. You have no competition, you never have.” You didn’t allow your words to linger, dropping his arm like it was on fire and unlocking your door as quickly as you could. You risked a glance over your shoulder as you shut the door, seeing Bakugou frozen where you left him. You shut the door gently, heart racing and palms absolutely soaked.

You looked down at your hands and groaned. You had lost control of your quirk again, like a teenager.

After a moment, you snuck a glance out of your peephole and saw Bakugou’s retreating figure walking slowly down the hallway, fists clenching at his sides.

It had been three days since your confession in the hallway and Bakugou was acting weird. As in, acting like nothing had happened. He had been outside of your door the next morning at the end of his patrol, looking as tired as he typically did. He walked you to work and left without ever coming near to talking about the day before. He was there waiting for you after work again, and he continued to say nothing.

The next two days were the same as the two of you continues your routine and you attempted to follow his lead of not mentioning anything despite the anxiety seeping into your chest, spreading with every encounter where he didn’t say anything.

Did you read the situation wrong? Had you jumped to wrong circumstances? Did he now feel pressured? Did you seem creepy now?

You finally broke down on the third day, crying to Mina in your shared living room. Mina had been privy to several nights of you talking about Bakugou in your second year, but you had spared her after that year despite knowing she didn’t mind.

“No, you were definitely reading him right. Everyone has been just waiting for you two to hook up.” Mina rubbed comforting circles on your back as you cried, feeling like the world was crumbling around you.

This is why you hadn’t confessed. You felt like you simultaneously couldn’t breathe and were being forced more air then you could handle down your throat. Obviously you had said something wrong and Bakugou was trying to deny your feelings in the kindest way possible.

“Okay! That’s it!” Mina stood suddenly, causing you to widen your eyes and sit up to listen. “I am going to the store and getting you ice cream, movies, and another one of those small potted plants you love so much. We’re going to sit here, throw a pity party, then pull on our big girl panties and move on.”

At Mina’s persuasive voice, you found yourself nodding, staying on the couch at her insistence that she would be back soon.

You busied yourself by looking at your phone for a few minutes before there was a knock at our door. Assuming it was just a package, you stood and pulled the throw pillow from the couch around your shoulders, making your way to the door and unlocking it.

You expected the delivery man holding one of the many things Mina ordered (her hair products, snack boxes, new clothes, etc.), but were instead greeted with Bakugou.

Quickly and without thinking you slammed the door shut immediately with a squeal.

“What the fuck?” Bakugou growled from the other side of the door, opening it a moment after it shut. “Listen here dumbass, you can’t just slam doors on people. It’s fucking rude.”

You were taken aback as Bakugou stepped inside of your apartment, kicking off the slides he was wearing and shutting the door behind him, continuing his rant.

“You also can’t just suddenly spring feelings that you and the other person have been dancing around for years. How was I supposed to react to that? It’s fuckin’ inconsiderate, especially considering how damn adorable you looked while you did it.” Bakugou rammed a hand through his hair and glanced at you.

Your mouth was agape and you were frozen at the sudden onslaught of information he threw at you.

Bakugou pushed air out of his nose harshly and gestured at you, “Like, shit. Your face is all red and you’re in some stupid pajamas and you look hot as fuck. Obviously I like you, Y/N, I’d be a fool not to.” At this point, Bakugou was talking so loudly and quickly that you weren’t sure if you were being yelled at or not. Seeming to realize that, his next words were softer. “I made you wait for too long. I was being a little shitty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“What?” Bakugou demanded, fists clenching at his sides. You stepped forward and reached out to grab his arm and pried his hand open, stopping his nervous tick in action.

“You never say sorry. You just say what you did wrong.” You glanced up shyly, noticing how close you grabbing his arm brought the two of you. “It’s cute.” You admitted quickly, “And it always feels more sincere then a short ‘sorry’.”

Bakugou’s eyes were searching your face. At your small nod, he surged down and grabbed your face with both hands, pressing his lips on yours. You two stayed that way for a few seconds before Bakugou swept his tongue against the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth to him.

With a groan, Bakugou kissed you harshly, hands moving from your face to grip your waist and pull you up toward him. You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up as well until Bakugou pulled away, gasping for breath.

He pressed three short kisses to your lips in rapid succession before resting his forehead against yours, eyes open and staring deep into you. You leaned forward slightly and brushed your nose against his.

“Katsuki?”

With a moan, Bakugou crashed his lips against yours again, teeth clashing in his impatience. You allowed yourself to be consumed in his mouth on yours, fingers digging into your hips and tongue exploring your mouth assuredly, for a moment before pulling away.

“I really really like you.” You told him, staring dead in his eyes despite the blush overcoming your entire face.

“No shit, dumbass.” Bakugou said, a smile breaking out on his face before he kissed you again, softly and slowly enough to have you melting. “I really really like you too.” He admitted, causing you to smile broadly as a blush worked it’s way to the tops of his ears.

“Alright! It’s been twenty minutes, Bakugou- oh!” Mina pushed open the door suddenly, a smirk working its’ way onto her face at the two of you. “I knew my plan would work. Y/N, babe, I’ll spend the night with Tsu, call me in the morning.” With a wink, Mina shut the door and was gone just as suddenly as she came.

You pressed your face into Bakugou’s chest, hearing the laughs he was attempting to contain.

“So, we’ve got the place to ourselves tonight, huh?” Bakugou asked after a moment, causing you to gasp and lean back.

“Don’t even think of trying anything, buddy, unless it’s cuddling while we watch a movie. I am a wholesome child.” You attempted to meet his eye with a serious face, but couldn’t hold back your large grin.

“Yeah, okay.” Bakugou scoffed, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose, smirking as you went cross eyed in an attempt to follow his movements, “Whatever you say.”

“So, you’re really upset, huh?” You mumbled, lifting your head from Bakugou’s chest and feeling his fingers falter as he traced random patterns against your hip.

“Was I too rough?” Bakugou asked, peering down to meet your eyes without lifting his head, somehow managing to look concerned and smug at the same time.

“No, of course not.” You assured him, shaking your head and pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder, “You just usually talk to me some before jumping right into bed.” You smirked as your words caused Bakugou to flush. “What’s on your mind?”

“You already know.” Bakugou groaned, moving his hand to wrap around your waist, holding you tighter to him. “Damn Deku got number one again.” You allowed the silence to linger for a minute, feeling Bakugou’s irritation come off of him in waves, handing tightening and loosening against your skin over and over.

You reached up and rested your hand on his cheek, using your other arm to prop yourself up on his chest. “You’ll get ‘em next time babe. I promise. Plus, you’re only barely behind him.”

Bakugou clashed his teeth together, avoiding your gaze, “I know, I just don’t want to be behind that fucking looser.”

“And, so, next time you won’t be. But, no matter what, I’m always here to support you.” Bakugou finally met your eyes, the anger softening behind them.

“Stop being so mushy, dumbass.” He mumbled, maneuvering off of you and sitting up. “I’m going to go start a shower,” He stood and stretched, allowing you to take a long look at the muscles lining his back, watching them flex as he rolled his shoulders before turning around to face you again and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll come get you when it’s warm.”

You nodded, watching him walk away, only to get up and follow him a few moments later.

“Fuck!” Bakugou jumped as you wrapped your arms around his waist, “I told you I would come get you. And don’t walk so quietly, you scared the shit out of me.” Bakugou sent you a glare over his shoulder, but still lifted his arm and brought you to his side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Sorry.” You said, laughing at his annoyance.

“It’s ready.” He mumbled, sending you another glare softened by the smile that you could see he was fighting.

“Are you joining me?” You asked after standing under the warm water, receiving a smug look.

“Can’t get enough of me today, huh?” He teased, stepping into the shower after you.

“Never.” You told him, reaching up to scrub his hair and work through some of the knots and hair gel. To your absolute astonishment, Bakugou leaned forward and nipped at your nose. “Hey!”

“I told you to stop being so damn cheesy.” He mumbled, turning away from you to grab the shampoo. You too the opportunity to hug him, wrapping your arms around his toned torso and pressing a kiss in between his shoulder blades.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his skin, cheeks flushed and heart racing. The shampoo bottle slipped in Bakugou’s hand, but he caught it before it could fall, setting it on the shelf before turning around in your arms, finding your cheeks with his hands and slamming his lips onto yours.

“Say it again,” He demanded, pulling away from the kiss as suddenly as he initiated it, panting against your skin, “please.”

“I love you, Katsuki.” You told him and were rewarded with another kiss, your teeth knocking together, all tongue as Katsuki moved his hands to your waist to tug you closer to him.

“I love you.” He whispered against your lips, grinning like a fool when you repeated it back to him again.

Your shared shower lasted longer then intended, both of you pruned and dazed with happiness by the end of it. You decided to cook for Katsuki, allowing him to relax on the couch, still slightly grumpy from the hero rankings but in a notably better mood.

“You really have to stop doing shit suddenly like that. It’s annoying.” Katsuki said, walking into the kitchen, talking as if you two were already in the middle of a conversation, confusing you.

“Huh?” You asked, turning away from the soba you were cooking.

“Let me do the cute annoying romantic shit first sometimes, okay?” He asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“Are you upset that I said I love you first?” You asked, fighting a smile.

“I wanted to say it first. It’s fucking annoying, you told me your feelings first last time too.” Bakugou complained, throwing his head back, “So, let me do the other stuff first, okay? It’s less annoying that way.”

“Okay baby, okay.” You agreed, laughing and walking toward him, standing on your toes to kiss his nose before returning to cooking, ignoring Katsuki’s gentle complaints about you being “too fucking cute” and needing to “lay off, it’s annoying,” knowing that, behind you, he was smiling contently.

A/N: so, i intended this to be maybe 1.5k. . . then 3k. . . and i just kept writing. so let me know what you think! sorry it’s so long, i got carried away and had to force myself to stop here, heh.

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hopelesshawks · 4 years ago

Text

Physical Fatality Part 5- Proud

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for minor manga spoilers, oral sex (giving and receiving), facefucking, dom/sub themes

Masterlist

“You need better concealer Katsuki, whatever brand you’re using now is shit,” you comment by way of greeting as you meet Bakugo in front of the agency for patrol.

“The fuck are you on about idiot?” Bakugo scowls. “I can still see the hickeys Red Riot left on your neck,” you grin as you begin walking. His face goes bright red as he catches up to you. “These aren’t-“ he begins but you cut him off rolling your eyes. “Don’t bother, we both know whatever lie you try to come up with won’t be a good one. May I suggest trying Fenty brand concealer out before you have your next rendezvous.” “Whatever, keep talking shit if you wanna keep living on Deku’s couch forever.” “What does your shitty job at covering up hickeys have to do with my technically being homeless?” “I might’ve found you a new place but the more you open your trap the less inclined I am to tell you about it.” “Have I ever told you you’re my best friend in the whole wide world and I love you so much?” Bakugo rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out or get stuck. “Look Kirishima’s got a friend who went to high school with us, Mina Ashido. If you paid any attention to the charts you might recognize her as the acid hero Pinky,” he explains. “Ohh I know her! I follow her on Insta,” you say. “I… y’know what? Sure. Great. Well, her roommate is moving out and Kiri says she’s looking for a new one.” “Aww, so he’s Kiri now?” “I swear to god (y/n) do you want the room or not?” “Right! Yes, I totally want the room! Thanks so much Katsuki!” you beam at him. “You’re lucky I find you entertaining dumbass. Here’s Mina’s number,” he sighs as he pulls out his phone and texts over her contact details. “Seriously though, I owe you one. I’ll give her a call later today,” you tell him. “Whatever, let’s just get on with patrol,” Bakugo scoffs. You know he appreciates your thanks anyway.

You love patrolling with Bakugo because the two of you are equally competitive. Sure, on bigger takedowns you both know how to reign it in and focus, but on days like today where all you get is a small time robbery or two both of you let yourselves go a little bit. It’s all about who can round up the most villains in the least amount of time. These competitions were a large part in why you earned Bakugo’s respect and had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship, not that he would ever call it that. Your favorite tradition of you and Bakugo’s patrols, however, was the race back. Once you guys neared the end of your route, you would pause, do a short countdown and then you were off. First one back to the agency wins, the only rule was that you couldn’t do anything that could draw a bad headline i.e. destroying property or getting civilians caught in the crossfire. It was such a staple of the two of you’s patrol that many people had come to know them and you’d get the occasional group of spectators to watch you and the explosive blonde racing. The current record is 112-113 in Bakugo’s favor but you’re determined to fix that now. The two of you finally reach your usual starting point and both of you get a grin of anticipation. “Ready to watch me widen that lead?” Bakugo asks. “No way in hell, I’m tying it back up,” you fire back. You both look at each other and together countdown

3…

2…

1…

Go!

You’re both sprinting forward careful to avoid any pedestrians. You see a clear path starting to open up ahead of Bakugo and quickly scan for an obstacle you can throw in his way last minute. Your eyes land on a mailbox so you reach out with your quirk and then wait to time it until just before he’s about to blast himself forward. Right as he’s surging forward, the finish line in sight and his hands sparking, you jerk the mailbox in front of him so he barrels directly into it. You give him a wink before sprinting the last bit inside, using your quirk to shove the doors open and slide into home as he is just getting back up off the ground. He runs inside shortly after you and you crow out your victory. “Eat shit, Katsuki! It’s 113 all now,” you laugh out of breath, panting as you bend over with your hands on your knees. “Can’t believe you hit me with a fucking mailbox,” he huffs back. “It’s not destruction of property so it’s valid,” you point out. You stand back up straight, chest still heaving with exertion and sweaty from the run only to look towards the elevators and see Hawks staring at you. You belatedly realize that Shoto is with him and also giving you a curious look and it only occurs to you then what an odd picture you and Bakugo must’ve made rushing into the agency like that. “We, uh, we race,” you pant out by way of explanation as you and Bakugo finally start to catch your breath and make your way towards the elevators.

As the four of you get into the elevator Bakugo asks “What brings you guys here?” “Apparently All Might and Father want us to get started on the investigation into the attempted terror attack at the gala last week. We finally got access to security camera footage, personnel interviews, stuff like that, so we should be able to make at least a little head way. Tokoyami and Midoriya are already upstairs getting started,” Shoto explains. Hawks is still fucking staring at you and you can’t figure out why but it’s borderline making you sweat again. Since that night in Shoto’s basement Hawks had been doing his best to woo you. He had sent not-so-anonymous notes and flowers to your desk signed off only as “From your mystery man” to avoid the potential scandal of you having a fling from the enemy agency. Even still you could tell that the lower ranking heroes were starting to whisper and wonder about who your new suitor is.

As the elevator reaches your floor and everyone steps out you’re keenly aware that you need to change back into your civilian clothes if you’re about to comb through security data and interviews for hours. “I’m gonna take a shower then I’ll join you guys,” you explain, jerking a finger towards the women’s locker room, before using your quirk to grab a duffel bag from your desk. “We’ll fill you in on anything we find,” Bakugo assures you and you nod before heading to the locker room. Once you’ve disappeared into the locker room Bakugo turns to Hawks and asks “Well? Aren’t you going to go after her?” “What?” Hawks asks as he’s finally snapped out of the trance you’d put him in from the moment he’d seen you sweaty and laughing, looking impossibly sexy in your hero costume. Shoto rolls his eyes. “You weren’t subtle. Something tells me you’d be too distracted to help right now anyway,” Shoto adds in.

Hawks tries not to look too eager as he follows after you but fails. He rushes to the locker room and locks the door behind him. It seems as if the top floor is pretty much reserved to you, Bakugo, and Midoriya but better safe than sorry. You’re already in the shower by the time Hawks arrives, the hot water rinsing away the sweat you’d worked up on patrol and any muscle aches that had been threatening to make an appearance. You hear footsteps approaching and immediately have a pretty good guess for who it is. “So that’s what all the staring was about,” you tease as you turn around to find Hawks leaning against the boundary between the showers and the drier part of the room where the actual lockers are. “How else did you expect me to react when you were looking so hot all sweaty and with that bright, beautiful smile of yours?” Hawks flirts. “Do you have an off button or?” you ask. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? We are a little pressed for time you know,” Hawks replies by way of an answer. You pretend to think for a moment but the reality is you knew and were hoping for this exact outcome the moment you heard the door open again. “Well, hurry up and get in here then,” you tell him. He’s all too eager to oblige.

He quickly strips out of his hero costume before coming to join you under the shower’s warm spray. He’s already half hard, and getting harder by the moment, as he presses you close to him and draws you in for a kiss. It’s slow and needy and addicting because he kisses you like you’re something precious. His hands slowly skate up your rib cage before moving to massage your breasts. You’re about to wrap a hand around his now achingly hard dick but before you can he’s pulling away from your kiss and giving you a devilish look. You’re about to ask why when suddenly he’s sinking to his knees in front of you and you wonder if there’s ever been a hotter sight. “Spread those legs for me Artemis.” There’s something about the way he says your hero name that makes it sound like absolute sin. So you do as told and spread your legs as his hands find their home at your waist but he doesn’t go straight to the main attraction. No, first he leaves open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. So close to what you truly want but not quite. “What happened to being short on time?” you groan, desperate to have his mouth on you. He chuckles and you can feel his breath ghost against your sex. The feeling makes you shudder. “So impatient little dove,” he smirks but regardless he finally licks along the folds of your labia. You have to grab the wall for balance as his tongue begins to circle your clit before he pulls the nub into his mouth to gently suck on it. “Oh god,” you cry out as one hand instinctively goes to tangle in his hair and you can feel him smirk against you, the cocky bastard, but can’t find it in you to really care when his tongue is now sliding inside you. He eats you out like it’s his job and Christ does he deserve a promotion. He slides one hand down from your waist to provide extra stimulation to your sensitive clit and that’s all it takes to send you over the edge with a cry of his name. His real name.

He stands with a self-satisfied look on his face as you reel him in for a kiss. “Job well done I take it?” he asks. “Very well done. I think I ought to return the favor,” you reply and now it’s Hawks’ turn to watch in wonder as you sink to your knees in front of him. He curses above you just at the sight alone but then you’re taking him into your mouth and he already knows this isn’t going to last long. You take him in slowly, inch by aching inch, until you can feel the head of his cock kiss the back of your throat and the moan he makes as you hollow out your cheeks is music to your ears. You pull back enough so he sits more comfortably in your mouth and use your hand to work the remaining length as you begin to bob your head up and down along his shaft. You feel his hand tangle into your hair and hold on for dear life and he’s trying so hard to resist the urge to move his hips. You pull off and smirk up at him and he almost whines at the loss. “You’re being so good trying not to fuck into my mouth Keigo,” you say and while he wants to be indignant about the tone you’re using there’s no denying it makes his dick twitch. “So good I think you’ve earned a reward,” you continue and god Keigo just knows you’re going to be the death of him at this rate. “You want to fuck my face Kei?” you ask and it’s a miracle he doesn’t explode right there. “Fuck (y/n), yes. God, yes,” he pants out. “Then do it, I give you permission,” you grin before taking him back in. You don’t have to tell him twice. He fucks into the wet heat of your mouth like his life depends on it, tightly gripping your hair to hold you in place as he chases his orgasm. He tugs on your hair in warning that he’s close, so close. You tighten your grip on his hips to let him know it’s ok. Soon after his hips stutter as he begins spilling his seed down your throat with a groan. You take it all, swallowing every drop until he’s finally spent.

As you stand back up Keigo immediately pulls you in for a bruising kiss, still able to taste himself on your tongue, and it’s so possessive and demanding that in any other situation you may have gone another round. But you both have already been gone from the meeting too long so instead he pulls away and practically growls, “I’ll get you back for that mouth of yours later.” “Promise?” you tease. “Tonight. I’ll take you somewhere proper with no reporters,” he tells you before pressing a quick but rough kiss to your lips and then exiting the shower to go dry off and get redressed. Fuck, he’s going to be the death of you. You take another few moments in the shower before you step out to get dressed as well and find Hawks has already left the locker room, presumably to join the others in the meeting. After putting back on your civilian clothes you exit the locker room and head over to the conference room designated for the task force. Bakugo gives you a smirk as you walk in and you flip him off in return. Finally you take your seat and tune into the conversation, fully shifting into work mode.

By the end of the meeting you’ve managed to rule out the league of villains and most of the remaining yakuza groups out there but haven’t got much else. “There’s some similarities with a case I’ve been looking into from a month or so back. It was kicked lower down the food chain but I still have notes and I can probably get the files I’ll just have to swing back by Endeavor’s,” Hawks sighs. “Let’s deal with those tomorrow morning. Meet back here same time?” Midoriya asks. Everyone nods their agreement before rising to leave the conference room. “I should probably still grab those files tonight,” Hawks admits as you all walk out. “That’s cool, I’ll just roll with. No worries,” you shrug. “You’re the best you know that?” he grins. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing. Let me grab my shit real quick and then we can head out,” you tell him before running off to do just that. Shortly afterward Tokoyami walks up to Hawks. “I’m proud of you, Hawks,” he says and Hawks gives him an odd look. “What’re you talking about?” Hawks asks. “I was worried you’d freak out when you found out she worked for All Might. You know how Endeavor gets, still buying into the whole dumb feud thing. I’m glad you didn’t let that stop you though,” Tokoyami explains. “I mean yea Endeavor’s no fan of the guy, but he wouldn’t actually care about me seeing someone from All Might’s agency... right?” Hawks replies. Tokoyami’s eyes widen briefly but he coughs to cover up his reaction. “No, no, yea you’re probably right. Anyway, she’s good for you I feel like. I’m glad you two found each other,” Tokoyami finally says. Before Hawks can press any further you reappear in front of him and ask “Ready to go?” “Yea, I’m ready,” he says, throwing one last look at Tokoyami before shaking it off and following you back to the elevator.

Hawks is sort of quiet on the way over to Endeavor’s agency but you figure he must be thinking over the case still. It’s late so when you arrive at the office building the lobby is all but deserted except for one woman standing off to the side looking uncomfortable and lost. She’s older with thick hair and looks to have had a rough go of life if you had to guess. You notice her before Hawks does so you walk over to see if she’s ok. After all if she’s hanging out in the lobby of a hero agency this late at night she must be in trouble right? “Excuse me ma’am are you ok?” you ask the woman gently. She turns to you and the look in her eyes is almost distant. “I’m looking for my son,” she says mildly. You’re about to ask for more information on her son, like a physical description or where she’d lost him, when suddenly Hawks is right behind you. “What are you doing here?” he asks and his voice is cold in a way you’ve never heard before. You’re about to chastise him but stop short. You look from his face back to the woman’s. It can’t be. Can it? “Is that anyway to talk to your mother?” the woman asks and you have to resist the temptation to gasp audibly. Hawks grits his teeth, looking frustrated and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the agency doors that any number of heroes could walk through at any second. You’re not sure Hawks would appreciate you showing him any kind of physical affection in front of his mom so you instead reach out with your quirk, giving his wrist a quick, hopefully reassuring squeeze. “Why don’t we take this upstairs, yeah? Hawks you can get that file you need and you two can talk with a little more privacy,” you suggest. The woman gives you an almost detached look but nods and Hawks sighs “yea sure,” before turning to go up the elevator.

The top floor is blissfully empty. You wish you could appreciate being in Endeavor’s agency a bit more but you’re more concerned for Keigo and the woman who is apparently his mother. She goes to take a seat at one of the desks and sits there quietly. “I’m sorry. I promised you a proper night out,” Keigo sighs and it breaks your heart a little seeing him like this. “It’s ok Kei, we can take a rain check,” you promise giving him a small smile before turning to leave and give him privacy. “Wait,” he says suddenly as he lurches forward to grab hold of your wrist. You turn back to look at him and find desperation so clear in his golden eyes.

“Stay?”

“Of course.”

He gives a relieved sigh before steeling himself and turning back to face his mother. “What do you need?” he asks, and the simple act of asking seems to be draining for him. “The commission money is running out. I didn’t know how to contact you so I waited until everyone had gone and came here. I figure being number two and all you could help me out?” she asks. “How much?” “Just enough to last me until I get a job.” “You’re not even looking for a job.” “I am.” “Stop lying.” “Fine then I just need enough to pay for food for awhile. You and the HPSC got me in that big, fancy house, the food is all I really need.” Hawks somehow doubts that’s true. “Fine, I’ll deposit some money into your account. Here’s my number too. Just call next time,” he tells her as one of his feathers unearths a business card from his desk and puts it on the desk she’s sitting at. For a moment she stares at the little card as if unable to register what it is, but eventually she does take it off the desk hesitantly, as if afraid it may disappear. “Thank you. Goodbye Keigo,” she says before standing and heading to the elevator. She’s about to walk out when she suddenly stops. “I am proud of you by the way,” she confesses but before Keigo can respond she steps into the elevator and then she’s gone. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Keigo sighs. “Don’t apologize,” you assure him. “I ruined our evening. I think that warrants an apology,” he scoffs and you hate the self deprecating undertone you can hear in it. “Tell you what, why don’t you grab that file we need and then I’ll take you some place,” you offer. He gives you an odd look but nods all the same. You try to convince yourself this isn’t a horrible idea.

A cemetery. The place you had taken him was a cemetery. Hawks isn’t sure what to think but he can tell this isn’t necessarily easy for you as you lead him through the tombstones. You finally stop at a marker and sit down in front of it. Hawks joins you, eyes scanning your face before finally drifting to the tombstone. He freezes when he recognizes your last name at the top. There’s one name engraved below that, a woman’s, and Keigo finally puts the pieces together. “My dad was a big gambler,” you start to explain, “but he wasn’t very good at it. He was constantly betting big and losing it all. My mom would work long hours all day every day just trying to get food on the table and he would blow it all in a night or two. It wasn’t sustainable, obviously, so he started getting into shady shit to make up the extra funds. I guess eventually he screwed over the wrong person, they came to the house to settle the score so to speak but he was gone so my mom paid the price for him. I was on my way home from school at the time so, um, I ended up being the one to find her.” Keigo reaches over to gently take your hand but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. “My dad was arrested about a year or so after my debut as a hero, just when I was starting to gain momentum at All Might’s. The press ate that shit up, it was all over the news. I think that’s why they’re so hard on me now. They’re just waiting for me to prove I’m no better than the situation I grew up in,” you finish. “Maybe your dad and mine are sharing a cell,” Keigo offers and it’s far more than you ever expected from him. “That’s why your real name is a secret.” Keigo nods. “It was a deal my mother struck with the HPSC. She gave them me, they gave her a fuck ton of money and both of us a fresh start. The Takami name was wiped from both our records,” he explains. “How old were you?” “Six or seven.” “That’s hard.” “Yea.” The two of you briefly lapse back into silence before you finally clear your throat, forcing back any tears that were threatening to fall. “Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to tell you how shit my dad was. I, um, like to come here sometimes to talk to her. I figured it was only fair that you meet my mom since I met yours,” you explain, “if you’re comfortable with it, that is.” “I’d love to meet your mom,” Keigo says, giving your hand a tight squeeze. You respond with a watery smile before turning back to the tombstone. “Hey Mom. I know it’s been a minute since my last visit, work has been kinda crazy. Midoriya and Bakugo are doing well! I think Midoriya is going to propose soon and Bakugo finally got his act together with Kirishima. That’s Red Riot’s real name. I don’t remember if I told you that last time. Anyway, there’s someone here I want you to meet,” you say before turning expectantly to Keigo. “Hey Mrs. (y/l/n), it’s really great to meet you. I’m Keigo, your daughter’s new friend,” he introduces himself and it warms your heart to hear him do it with his real name and not his hero one. “You raised a pretty amazing woman ma’am. I hope you’re proud of her,” he finishes.

The two of you stay at the gravestone trading stories with each other and to your mom late into the night. There’s something freeing about it and when the two of you finally do take your leave, one thought sticks out to you amongst the rest: Against all odds, you’re in love with Keigo Takami.

Author’s Note: THIS CHAPTER WOW. First of all I really be hurtin my own damn feelings 🥲 but also as y’all can tell I very much was inspired by the backstory we got from the latest manga chapter. I’m sure the FBI agent monitoring me was very confused why I was googling what Japanese cemeteries look like but here we are. This is one of very few parts in this series that isn’t directly linked to a song off the album so it was a little harder to write but we finally got there

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

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skullrock · 4 years ago

Text

the captain

pairing: Steve x Hagan!Reader

request: Can I please request a fluffy fic where Steve falls for Tommy H’s sister? She stops by Scoops Ahoy to buy ice cream and they go all “Oh, it’s been a long time since we last saw each other” kind of? I love your writing so much 🥺

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Steve being Big Idiot, mentions of T*mmy H*gan

a/n: tommy’s party by peach pit intensifies in my head

===

“We’re out of sea-berry.”

Robin doesn’t look up from her book. “What?”

Steve grabs the empty container from the display case and nearly chucks it in her direction. “We - are out - of sea-berry.” He chucks it dramatically into the trash and throws his hat on the counter, then leans forward to rest his head in his hands.

“Steve, it’s just ice cream,” Robin says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I am having a bad day.”

Robin’s brows knit together. “Because we’re out of sea-berry?”

“It’s not about the ice cream, Robin,” he says, lifting his head to glare at her. “It’s about working at a shitty minimum wage job with this stupid hat and my arms hurt from scooping stupid ice cream for stupid customers.”

Robin puts her book down and sighs, hopping off the counter. She claps Steve’s shoulder and he bristles at the feeling. “Hey, slinging ice cream isn’t stupid.”

“Oh?” he asks. “In this - in this costume?” Steve tugs at his shirt. “You don’t think this job is stupid?”

Robin winces. “Spoiled,” she mumbles, and leans against the back counter. “How’s the girl thing coming along?”

Steve sighs loudly, dramatically, and leans against the cooler, back to the seating area. “How do you think?”

“I haven’t kept track today, but knowing your record, not good.”

“I give up!” he cries out, throwing his hands up. “I give up. The - the - God or whatever - wants me to suffer. I am fruitless.” He stares at the ground and crosses his arms. “My dad’s trying to teach me a lesson on being responsible and the universe is trying to teach me a lesson on being - I don’t know.”

“Not an asshole?”

Steve winces now, eyes trained on his shoelaces. “Yeah, maybe.”

Robin sighs, feeling some pity for the boy in front of her. “Look, you only have a few more hours, okay? Just make it til then.”

Just make it til then. Steve can do that, he thinks.

And then you come into the store.

Steve does a double take, looking up from the to-do list he’s reading for the fiftieth time that day. His brows furrow and he goes a bit slack-jawed, shocked to see you. He hadn’t seen you in forever - since junior year, at least. He hadn’t even thought about you; Tommy and all things related had been forcefully eradicated from his mind. But he knows you from anywhere - knows the freckles and hair, knows your smile. Knows the laugh you share with a friend before you walk into the store, alone, playing with your wallet.

Steve continues to stare with his mouth agape as you approach, and you also do a double-take. You remember Steve - of course you remember Steve. He was all you thought about while Tommy was close with him. You’d begged your brother two things your whole life - to stop being a dick and to get Steve to go on a date with you.

Of course, he did neither.

But you’re grown up now, more confident and less desperate for a date. Still, despite the growth, you’re completely smitten. Steve’s even cuter now, has grown into himself. His hair, salon-highlighted, bounces as you both make eye contact. You remember the moles on his neck, his hands, his eyes - god, his eyes, warm and brown and always kind even when Steve wasn’t. And he was kind, to you, at least. You could always see past the bullshit facade. You knew who he was, deep down. You knew him as a quiet boy at the pool, the one who said please and thank you to your mother, the one who shoved Tommy when Tommy was mean to you. He always wanted to make you laugh, no matter what. You just felt comfortable with him.

You realize at this point that you’ve stopped walking and you blush as your feet begin to work again.

“Look who it is,” you say, smiling widely. “The one that got away.”

Steve smiles despite not understanding the joke. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“Been a long time,” he says, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” You smile sadly. “Tommy wouldn’t tell me what happened. I just knew I wasn’t going to see you anymore.”

Steve stiffens a bit at the mention of Tommy, but he shrugs a shoulder. “Well, you know -”

“I do know,” you say. “I wish I could lose Tommy and Carol.”

“I guess I got lucky, huh?”

“Yeah, guess you did,” you say, eyes trained on his. “And I got unlucky. I missed you.”

Steve perks up a bit, but his brows twitch together. “You missed me?”

“I - yeah,” you stutter, blushing. “Yeah. You were always cool and nice to me.”

Steve’s smile widens and he leans against the counter, clasping his hands together. “Yeah? Well, maybe I missed you, too.”

“Really?”

“You were fun,” he says, “and I think we connected because deep down, we both hated your brother.”

“And Carol.”

“And Carol,” he laughs. “God, remember when they made me have a pool party? And you and I went inside and played Monopoly for hours while they made out at the pool?”

You laugh, too. “Jesus Christ, your pool probably has mono.”

“Probably.”

You both stare at each other a little longer before you clear your throat. “So - ice cream? What do you recommend? I’ve never been here.”

“Lucky you,” he says, straightening. “Well, we’re out of sea-berry -”

Robin sighs behind him and he turns to glare at her, not enjoying the audience, but whips back around to you. “But we have other flavors.”

“Oh, boy,” you say, your smile starting to hurt your face. “Lay ‘em on me.”

Steve takes you through each flavor, dramatically reciting what they are and what the selling point is, handing you a small spoon for each one. You really don’t care to taste them all, but you care about talking to him - you care about your fingers brushing every time he hands you a sample, how his eyes light up when he laughs, how dorky he looks and sounds.

“We also have sundaes and stuff,” he says, “which I can also attempt to sell to you.”

“Do you make this much of an effort every time you make a sale?”

“No, just for you.”

You both blush but the smiles stay, and Robin is nearly gagging behind Steve because it’s frankly disgusting to watch straight people flirt.

“What do you usually get?” you ask. “I think I trust your judgement.”

“I don’t give this place my money,” he says, “but when I steal, I always get the USS Butterscotch.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What is it called?”

“Look, I didn’t name it!”

You laugh. “I bet you didn’t pick your uniforms, either.”

Steve snorts. “No way, I’d pick something much nicer -”

“What, like a pastel striped polo?” Robin quips from behind him.

Steve whips around again and opens his mouth to retaliate, but you say, “I think it looks good on you.”

He turns to look at you, head inclined as if to say yeah, right. “No, I look stupid.”

“No!” you protest. “It’s really nice. The color is nice on you.”

Steve can’t stop the blush that creeps onto his cheeks, and he rubs the back of his neck. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you say casually. “And it really shows off your arms and legs.”

At this point, Robin gets up and walks to the back, leaving you and Steve alone. Finally.

“What about my arms and legs needs shown off?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “Like you don’t know.”

“Like I don’t know what?”

“That you’re cute.”

Had Steve been drinking, he would have done a spit-take.

“I mean - like - uh. Like - you’re - conventionally. Attractive,” you add, anxiety gripping your veins. “Like. You know.”

Steve smirks. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” you say, leaning across the cooler to tug on his ascot. “You know you’re attractive. That was your one personality trait.”

Steve pouts. “Hey -”

“I’m kidding,” you say, pushing him a bit before leaning back to your side of the cooler. “I’d like a - whatever you said earlier.”

Steve whips his scooper out and twirls it in his hand before getting to work. You smile as you wait, watching him do everything very dramatically and with flair. He turns and produces the concoction to you, gesturing towards it theatrically before handing it to you.

“How much?” you ask, reaching for your wallet again.

“No way,” he says, crinkling his nose. “You’re not paying.”

Your shoulders drop and you frown. “Steve, come on -”

“It’s on me. I like to steal from this place.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Like Robin Hood.”

“Sure,” he says, not knowing who that is. “Like Robin Hood.”

“This better be good,” you say. “Because I’m not coming back if it sucks.”

“That’s too bad,” he pouts, leaning against the cooler. “I guess that means I’ll have to see you outside of work, then.”

You raise a brow and smile, grabbing the spoon in your dish. “Let’s see.”

You slowly take a bite. It’s actually pretty good, but you want to see Steve somewhere else.

“It sucks,” you say. “Worst thing I’ve ever had.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “I guess that means I’ll have to meet you at the movies tomorrow at eight?”

“I guess so,” you say, trying to suppress a smile. “What a bummer.”

Steve smiles fondly. “What a bummer.”

After a few moments of intense eye-contact, the bell at the counter rings, signifying Erica Sinclair’s entrance. Steve sighs and grits his teeth, looking back at you with a sympathetic smile. “I’m very glad you came in here.”

“Me too,” you smile. “Tomorrow? Eight? Movies.”

“Tomorrow, eight, movies,” he repeats, nodding, and you smile wider at how his hair bobs over his forehead as he does.

“Sailor Man!”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, sending you one last smile before going towards the register.

===

“That was so gross,” Robin scoffs. “You guys - ugh. For fifteen minutes!”

Steve smugly smiles at her. He walks towards her board and grabs her marker, dramatically drawing a ‘I’ on his side of the board. “I rule.”

“This time,” Robin says, unable to hide her smile. “This time, you rule.”

===

taglist (join here): @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready@wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @write-from-the-heart @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @sourapplebaby @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @andyl394 @astil-be @troop-scoop@ilovebucketbarnes@mybestfriendthedingus @unknownherelm @metuel18@magnitude101999@simplesammyx @lukeskisses @stevenismyboy @dungeons-and-demodogs @scoopsahcy @strangest-hour @lucifer-reads @stevexscoops

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot

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asingleheart-shapedbraincell · 4 years ago

Text

Parasite (Prologue)

I watched Venom last night, and now this exists. I have co-opted the plot for fanfiction with some added occultism and Halloween flavour for Spice™ .This is part one, basically works as a prologue, and then it’ll split into a chapter for each brother.

tw: implied drinking, occultism and demonic possession

GN!MC

Prologue

‘Twas Spooky Season and you were dressed as a shitty zombie because Halloween parties have the best snacks. A girl with long acrylic nails painted to look like candy-corn passed you a bright green jello shot. It tasted like limeade and cough syrup, yet somehow worse than both of those. She laughed at the face you pulled and passed you a can of lemonade to chase the taste away. When you cracked it open, it fizzed over slightly - not enough for you to suspect foul play, but enough that you were going to have a sticky hand. Still better than another jello shot though. It was quite crowded inside the house and the loud music was starting to get on your nerves a little bit, so you pointed out the door and mouthed ‘I’m gonna go outside!’ The girl gave you a smile and a thumbs up before turning back round to the shots table.

Outside the air was crisp and cold and full of the smell of woodsmoke and apple cider. A small gathering of people were sat around the bonfire nursing steaming mugs and chatting by the firelight. You wandered over to the punchbowl and scooped yourself a mug of cider, pulling the sleeves of your ratty, zombie-fied jumper over your hands to hold the hot mug before heading over to the group and settling yourself down next to them.

‘- but when she left the tent, she realised that it hadn’t been rain dripping on the tent, it had been blood,’ one of them was finishing a scary story and you settled in to hear the end of it, ‘and above her tent was her husband’s dead body.’

‘What killed the husband?’ You quietly asked the person next to you.

‘Demon,’ he replied.

You nodded and took a sip of the apple cider. It was delicious - not too sweet, well spiced, and the perfect hot drink for an autumn night (though you did have to strain small pieces of cinnamon bark through your teeth).

You leant over again to whisper: ‘Who summoned it?’

‘The wife.’

‘That’s one way to collect the life insurance,’ you mumbled back, causing him to laugh into his drink.

Someone flopped down next to you, ‘he’s not telling that stupid demon story again, is he?’ You looked over to see candy-corn nails roll her eyes at the storyteller before giving you a smile - ‘he’s a one track record.’

‘Any good story is just as good during a retelling as it is during the first,’ he huffed.

‘That’d be a fair point if you’d been telling a good story,’ she replied.

The group ooo-ed at that.

‘Well, you tell one then, if you’re such an expert.’

She ignored him, ‘Demons are just such a cop-out! The story’s always the same - you summon them, they go on a rampage, then someone sends them back to Hell. It’s too predictable!’

‘What are you talking about?! That’s still a great story!’

‘I refuse to be scared of a monster that can be beaten by a nun.’

‘Oh please - you’d be terrified if you ever met a demon.’

‘No I wouldn’t!’

‘Yes you would!’

Their argument rather revolved from there into bickering, which no-one bothered to interrupt because it was as entertaining as a scary story. You leant over to your neighbour again - ‘my money’s on her to win.’

‘You’re on,’ he said with a grin.

‘Then prove it,’ the challenge grabbed both of your attentions, ‘go get that ouija board from inside,’ the guy said.

‘Ouija boards are for ghosts you idiot,’ she replied.

‘We need to draw a pentagram,’ your neighbour said.

‘Oh, don’t get involved, Solomon!’ Someone sitting across you said, but he just smiled in reply. Well... this was going to be an interesting evening.

~~~

‘I got candles from the kitchen!’

‘Excellent!’ Solomon replied, ‘we need them at all five corners of the pentagram.’

You watched on as Solomon instructed people on what to do for the summoning spell and he seemed pretty confident for someone attempting to summon a demon on Halloween. So someone could win an argument. Some of the more superstitious people had left to go back to the party, but it’s not like you believed in demons and anyway - this was more interesting than jello shots and loud music.

Candles were being shoved at the points Solomon had drawn with a stick from the bonfire - five points, with the bonfire in the centre. It was certainly very theatrical, you had to hand it him.

‘Okay, now you stand here,’ Solomon said, positioning someone behind a candle, ‘and you stand here.’

He turned to look at the other points of the pentagram. There were two left. his eyes fell on you - ‘What was your name again?’

‘MC.’

‘MC, you stand behind that candle for me?’

You obliged, making sure not to kick it over, and Solomon walked over to the final candle next to you.

‘Do we hold hands or something?’ You asked.

‘Why?’ Solomon asked, smirking, ‘Are you scared?’

You rolled your eyes, and Solomon started murmuring in what sounded like Latin, but is was very faint and it wasn’t like you were fluent enough to know if he was faking of not. You turned to look at the bonfire at the centre. Just beyond it you could see candy-corn nails flipping off her storytelling friend, but then something in the bonfire caught your eye. Or maybe it didn’t? The bonfire didn’t look any different, but it had captured your attention fully. Probably Solomon’s showmanship. Was it bigger? A log collapsed inside and a shower of sparks and woodsmoke plumed out to stain the night sky - the wood inside popping and snapping like breaking bones and for a moment you thought you could hear strange music...

Your vision felt hazy and you tried to clear the smoke from your throat - your overactive imagination and those gross jello shots were mixing together poorly. And the heavy smoke wasn’t helping. You felt queasy and dizzy and no longer in the mood to play pretend for the sake of someone else’s argument. You scrubbed your sleeve over your eyes - not caring about the Halloween makeup - you just wanted the smoke out of them long enough to feel steadier. But it didn’t work. In fact, you felt decidedly unsteady.

‘I think I’ve had too much,’ you manage to mumble out, before everything went black.

~~~

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar bedroom, the sound of the party still going slightly muffled. The girl with the candy-corn nails was sat at the foot of the bed, she had put a pair of small costume horns onto a teddy bear and was half-heartedly playing with its little paws. You shifted and she jumped slightly, looking at you and breaking into a grin -

‘You’re awake!’ She said, sighing in relief, ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘Still a bit dizzy, but a lot better.’

‘The wind was blowing the smoke right into your face - I probably would have passed out too. I got you a glass of water, by the way,’ she said, pointing to the bedside table.

‘Thanks,’ you said, talking a long drink - your throat still felt itchy from all the smoke.

‘I’m sorry, by the way - it was all because of me and Jessie, I shouldn’t have let Solomon drag us into that whole ritual, not without making sure everyone was safe.’

‘You scared of demons all of a sudden?’ You asked with a half-hearted grin.

She snorted, ‘No. Demons aren’t real. But people getting hurt - that’s real.’

‘Apology accepted.’

‘Can I call you cab? I’m guessing you want to head home. I’ll pay for it - it’s the least I can do.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ you said, finishing that water - you still felt kinda dizzy, ‘thanks.’

~~~

Who’d you get possessed by?

Lucifer

Mammon

Leviathan

Satan

Asmodeus

Beelzebub

Belphagor

(Links will be added as the chapters are written - be patient, I have no concept of time, and also university work to be getting on with, but feel free to send me a reminder if you feel like it. I shamelessly thrive off of audience engagement)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #obey me parasite #obey me possession #obey me possession fic

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years ago

Text

The Women of Euphoria and Personal Style: Lookbook no.8

Hi to anyone reading,

I hope you’re well considering everything going on! It feels weird to want to talk about fashion or TV shows or red carpets or whatever when 90% of my Google searches are COVID-19 related but there you go. It’s all about trying to power through as normal (minus the social interaction) and pretend the world isn’t ending, right? Queue nervous laughter.

And as if things aren't shitty enough, production of season 2 of Euphoria has been postponed until further notice.

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, having to wait a bit longer for a TV show isn’t catastrophic but it does just about sum up the transition from 2019 to 2020 thus far that after HBO redeemed itself by broadcasting Euphoria in the summer following an ending to Game of Thrones that has made the whole series unrewatchable, the glimmer of hope in me reignited by the prospect of series 2 this year has been quickly dashed. 2021, I’m rooting for you, because it doesn’t seem like things are getting better any time soon, and in all seriousness, I think everyone needs a break from the collective suffering of the last few months.

For me (and undoubtedly for many others if the hundreds of makeup looks and styling videos are anything to go by), Euphoria’s effect on the world of fashion and beauty is unprecedented. I really can’t recall a TV show in living memory that has had as much of an impact on the way young people dress. I mean, this might partially be because the style of the characters already kind of caters to and draws from the target audience but also, aside from Blair Waldorf did anybody really give THAT much of a fuck about what anybody in Gossip Girl wore?

The draw of the styling on Euphoria is that it has something for everyone. The style of each of the main girls, Rue, Kat, Maddy, Jules and Cassie, all of whom I’ve attempted (emphasis on attempted!) to base (emphasis on base!) outfits around, is varied and distinctive but still so current and realistic at the same time. It’s also consistent; even if you don’t own the specific pieces worn by any of them, similar shapes and details reoccur enough in different looks throughout the series that it’s not hard to create an outfit which matches your favourite character’s overall vibe without buying anything new. That’s kinda what I have attempted to do here and without further ado, I’m gonna get on with it! First up:

Jules (Played by Hunter Schafer)

When it comes to whose style is the most experimental, Jules is the obvious answer. A lot of her outfits are what I imagine a cartoonist in the near-distant future will envision their cool girl protagonist wearing. Whilst her ensembles are generally whimsical and girly for the most part, there’s usually a few slightly punk-ish finishing touches thrown in there too be it through chunky shoes or bold makeup or that incredible mesh trench coat she wears in the series finale with the trans symbol on the back which, honestly, deserves a moment of silence.

There are definitely nods to current fashion trends sprinkled throughout her wardrobe too. I'm not going to lie, despite someone at work seemingly thinking it was an insult to tell me I look like someone who does (I still don’t know but this person has a Rick and Morty keyring so I don’t give it too much weight), I’ve never watched any anime. BUT, that being said, given the abundance of anime screenshots posted by all these aesthetic oriented Instagram and Tumblr moodboard accounts, I have a vague idea of what some of the more iconic characters look like and a lot of Jules’ looks seem to be very much modelled after or at least inspired by them. In a way, I see a lot of her looks as a blend between modern “e-girl”, Y2K skater chick (yes, I’m thinking early Avril Lavigne), and 2013 Tumblr “hipster” a la 2014 Joanna Kutcha and Charlie Barker, and though on paper that sounds like a nightmare combination, it works. I know-if that sentence were a Depop description I would’ve just gained 30 followers.

When it comes to my own interpretation of Jules’ style, it’s definitely something I like to channel when I’m putting together a proper OUTFIT outfit. Meaning an outfit I actually put effort into and thus will most likely want to get a good photo in, lol. The way her character dresses is almost quite Christopher Kane in that it’s fresh and unusual but still understated enough that I wouldn’t walk into a room wearing any of these feeling like I’m doing a Rick Owens runway.

I’m not TOO far out of my comfort zone but still at the same time, I’d be trying something new and maybe a little bit more zany than I'm used to. As for noting where any of these pieces are from, only a few have been bought in the last 6 months, but from left to right clockwise I have marked out those that have in case they’re still available (though be wary of the fact that it seems a lot of online clothes stores are still forcing warehouse employees to work in close confines at the moment and so perhaps aren’t operating the most ethically):

LOOK 1

Corset-Jaded London

Shoes-TK Maxx

LOOK 2

Dress-Motel Rocks

Boots-Koi Vegan Footwear

LOOK 3

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 4

Dress-Jaded London

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 5

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 6

Mesh Top-Depop

Hair Clips-Urban Outfitters

Kat (Played by Barbie Ferreira)

Eurgh, Kat.

I LOVE THIS BITCH.

If I had to choose my favourite character in the show, it would be a very close toss-up between her and Rue, and though I think Rue might just about nab the top spot for her relatability factor, Kat is the girl I want to be or wish that I had been when I was at school. I mean, there’s definitely an argument to be made in that a lot of what she’s doing with her cam work could be seen as a means of validation (Sam Levinson has basically said everyone on the show has some kind of an unhealthy coping mechanism and I would guess due to the circumstances in which her cam girl career was borne and the fact she’s underage, this would be hers) but I do think in other ways we really see Kat reclaim her power and recognise herself for the smart, capable, gorgeous woman that she is. Honestly, the definition of divine feminine energy, and I would completely let Barbie Ferreira/basically Kat if she was also actually 23 dominate me.

Plus! Her! Style! Is! The! Bomb! Definitely the easiest character to base looks around because if I’m totally honest Kat’s energy is pretty much just what I want to emulate in every day life.

It’s either pieces that are typically feminine, cutesy, and even slightly preppy at times drenched in everything grunge OR vice versa where you have something semi-gothic and then add a colourful, more playful touch in there that harks back to the beginning of the series before Kat had began to explore her identity and sexuality and dressed slightly more Forever 21.

I’d say, not yet with my whole chest, that on a good day the outfits I put together when making an effort aren’t too far off something Kat would wear, minus the more overtly BDSM touches; if wearing a ring choker in London is enough to get me a creepy comment from a gross middle aged shopkeeper (because I apparently forfeited my right not to be perved on when I decided to buy a bottle of Oasis summer fruits), then you can only imagine the kind of looks wearing a full-on harness would get in my conservative OAP dominated hometown. Not the most doable right now, especially considering the only time I get out is to work and to go for a run. The chafing I could deal with but the horrified glares of pensioners whose M&S prawn mayo sandwiches I’ve ruined by simply being in their eyesight not so much.

LOOK 1-

Corset-Urban Outfitters

LOOK 2-

Bodysuit-Depop

Skirt-Zara

Harness-Ebay

LOOK 3-

Co-ord-Depop

Lace-up Corset-Missguided

LOOK 4-

Dress-Vintage

LOOK 5-

Belt-Ebay

LOOK 6-

Coat-Topshop

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 7-

Fishnet Top-Ebay

Skirt-Urban Outfitters

Maddy (Played by Alexa Demie)

Not gonna lie, I was kind of scared to do Maddy. I’m scared to be posting this, lol! Alexa Demie has played this character for a single season and she’s already one of the most iconic women to grace our screens in years. This is a huge undertaking and I don’t have the bank balance or the body confidence (lmao) to raid IAmGia.

And this is where I want to stress: THESE ARE NOT OUTFIT RECREATIONS. THESE ARE INSPIRED BY. I HAVE ADDED ELEMENTS OF MY OWN STYLE INTO THEM. PLEASE DON’T DRAG ME. I KNOW, I’M NOT ALEXA DEMIE. I WOULD NEVER ASSUME TO BE ALEXA DEMIE. I’M NOT ABOUT TO TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN LIKE THAT. So now we’ve got that out the way (wipes bead of sweat off forehead), let’s continue.

Everything about Maddy Perez is extra. She has very much been established as a centre of attention character, and her outfits are a key part of that. They’re daring, they’re hyper-feminine, and they are always glamorous. We’re told that she competed in beauty pageants when she was younger and it’s clear that level of excess and coordination and glitz and all-round-boujeeness wormed its way into her DNA during that time. Even the “depression” outfit she wears to school following Nate becoming violent at the fair is costume-like, a 2019 Bratz doll Off-White street style collaboration.

Do you know how HARD I had to try to be HOT!? For these photos. Alexa Demie is one of those blessed women who doesn’t have to try at all, and that translates into the character completely. At any given moment, Maddy could add or remove one item or clothing and be let straight into the VIP section of a club, and that, honestly, is inspiring to us all in these dark times.

One thing I tried to keep in mind is that she always looks polished and coordinated, I.E the kind of look I would prepare for a night out is something Maddy would wear on an average day. Co-ords and delicate prints seem to be more subtle wardrobe staples along with mesh and PVC and glitter and feathers and fur and basically anything that toes the line between expensive looking and tacky. Yes, I am aware we may toe different sides of that line but please let me stay delusional and believe that’s not the case for 5 minutes. Much appreciated xoxo

LOOK 1-

Bodysuit-Jaded London

LOOK 2-

Bralette-Depop

LOOK 3-

Co-ord Suit-Boohoo

Bodysuit-Boohoo

LOOK 4-

Dress-Motel Rocks

Shoes-Schuh

LOOK 5-

Bodysuit-Zaful

Trousers-Depop

Coat-Topshop

LOOK 6-

Dress-Zaful

Belt-Zaful

LOOK 7-

Top-Jaded London

Hair Clips-H&M

Rue (Played by Zendaya Coleman)

I have a complicated relationship with Rue as a character. When I started season 1 of Euphoria, I was like “Oh my god, this girl is the worst. Jesus, she’s so negative and draining and willingly self-destructive and-”

Then, oh my god is this what it’s like to live with me!?

I will say, to my own credit, that I don’t think I've ever been quite as hard to deal with as Rue (a lot less smashing stuff up and a lot more moping), and to HER credit, by the end of the season we come to realise she’s been through a fucking lot and so it makes sense, but wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a teen show handle drug abuse and mental illness in such a brutal way. It’s quite a talent to be able to show a character cause so much pain to those closest to them and yet do so through a sympathetic lens. And issues aside, whether it’s her occasional social awkwardness or her relationship with her family or watching bloody Love Island (still quite surreal to see Zendaya Coleman witnessing the Amy/Curtis drama unfold), Rue is just my favourite character to follow.

Her style, though. AH. The thing is, I can hardly drag it, because it’s pretty much what I wear when I’m moping about the house-or just any time I can get away with it to be honest-to a T. I want to stay true to character, but that being said, creating a “Seth Rogen”-esque outfit that’s worth posting on here is difficult. So, with the same kind of artistic license that had me wearing berets whilst cosplaying Maddy Perez, here is the best I could do:

I know, I know, it’s probably too much colour and jewellery for Rue but this is as toned down as I could do and I tried to stick with the key silhouettes we see from her throughout the season; I mean, I can’t see her wearing leopard print but the structure of the coat in outfit 1 is very similar to the one seen in Shook Ones pt.II. I think the bottom line when it comes to her character is keeping things effortless and not overly-feminine; you want to mix street style, athleisure and your dad’s wardrobe favourites like your life depends on it. Plus messy hair and smudged makeup, both of which I’ve already got down according to the completely inappropriate number of customers who’ve asked if I'm tired at work so thanks for that guys, and glitter tears. Lots and lots of glitter tears.

OUTFIT 1-

Dungarees-Vintage

OUTFIT 2-

Trousers-Depop

Cardigan-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 5-

Beanie-Depop

OUTFIT 6-

Shirt-Boohoo Man

Sports Bra-TK Maxx

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Shirt-Jaded London

Cassie (Played by Sydney Sweeney)

Style-wise, Cassie is a hard one. When putting outfits for her character together, I found myself gravitating towards a direction that’s probably a bit too bohemian for her character, under the guidance of loose terms like “girl-next-door”, “floaty”, “delicate”, you get the idea. She definitely feels the least fully-realised in terms of all the main girls and I think it’s fair to say she’s probably got a bit of self-discovery to do. Most of her storylines in the season are dictated by her relationships to other people: McKay, Maddy, Lexie, her parents and so on.

Nevertheless, I tried to stick to the airier, more traditionally “pretty” pieces whilst still channelling the confidence and ease with which Cassie pulls them off. Sydney Sweeney has the most incredible figure and I feel like whilst the clothes the on-set stylists put her in flatter that and don’t hide anything, they’re still the focus. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything more inherently sexual about her character than any of the other main female characters despite the way the men within the narrative view her, and I think it’s a testament to the the wardrobe department that to me she still gives off big modern Disney princess energy and a certain innocence even whilst we hear her being continuously sexualised by her male peers.

If anything, Cassie probably dresses the most like an actual teenage girl, and her style, whilst less distinctive than the other girls, still does a good job of capturing the youth and romanticism of her character.

The colour palette of her wardrobe tends to be quite neutral, with a couple of pastels thrown in there, and if there are any details, they’re usually quite dainty. Similarly, Cassie is probably the least experimental when it comes to her makeup; we don’t really see her wearing the bold eyeshadows or liners or gems like the other girls at any point.

OUTFIT 1-

Bodysuit-Motel Rocks

Hair Clips-Bershka

OUTFIT 2-

Dress-Jaded London

OUTFIT 3-

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 4-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Hairband-H&M

`OUTFIT 5-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Jeans-Zaful

Headband-Primark

OUTFIT 6-

Top-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Dress-Urban Outfitters

Hair Clips-Boohoo

SO, I guess that’s it for my Euphoria lookbook! As always, let me know what you think (nicely pls, my ego is fragile lol) and I’d love to hear your opinions on the show too! I really haven’t got this excited over a new TV show in ages and I just think that it does everything so excellently-from the writing to the cinematography to the soundtrack, you can tell each element is so carefully and purposefully constructed. It immerses you into the dramatic highs and lows of being a teenager in a way I haven’t seen since UK Skins and I never thought I’d watch a show which held a candle to that.

In terms of what I’m doing next, I’ve got a very delayed fashion week masterpost in the works as well as something to fill the Met Gala shaped hole in our lives, which I hope to get up over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, if you read to the end, THANK YOU! And I hope you’re staying safe and AT HOME where possible. I know this self-isolation feels never-ending and if I’m honest, it is having a hugely negative effect on my mental health, but NHS staff are doing their very best with the shitty recourses they have and whilst it seems that our government have thrown workers under the bus once again, we can all do our bit to combat that by slowing the spread of the virus. Also thank you to anybody who’s out working now in such a scary and uncertain time! I work at a grocery store and can say from experience that the best way to show this thanks is just through kindness and following employee’s instructions without giving them grief for it. Everyone’s scared right now and the best we can do is pull together and look out for each other, as difficult as that might seem at times.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble, and like I said, stay safe! Thanks once again if you read til the end or even if you’re just here for the photos. Appreciate it more than you know either way!

Lauren x

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leviskokoro · 4 years ago

Photo

summary｜The espionage group consisting of Mari, Grimm, Ruggie, Leona, Kalim, and Jamil are in need of assistance in order to pull off the plan to take back the magic stone stolen from them by fairies. Fortunately, help has arrived in the form of a worldwide supermodel.

word count｜3385

credit goes to @wakaoujisenhime for giving me the idea to write this!

“Are you saying these guys will be performing during the fashion show? Perhaps you mistook it for a vegetable competition.”

“Puppies, it’s time for training!”

“You guys are…!”

And with those words, Mari knew they were in for a ride. Then again, she did expect this to happen as soon as the Headmaster had explained the situation to her. It seemed like it’d be fun, like an espionage mission for the spy movies she used to watch in her world. How exciting!

“Vil! And Sir Crewel!” Kalim exclaimed with a grin.

“With our support, you guys will definitely become the stars of the fashion show,” Vil spoke as he gazed at the group with a judgemental glint in his lilac eyes. He glanced at the teacher beside him, smirking. “Right, Sir Crewel?”

“Of course, Schoenheit.”

The both of them chuckled.

“The two most troublesome people are here,” Ruggie said, ears folded and eyebrows furrowed.

“Jamil, you asshole. Do you know what you’ve done?” Leona growled, glaring daggers at him.

“I also thought this was a tough decision.” Said boy wore his usual level-headed expression. “Top model Vil and fashionista Sir Crewel. If those two coached us, we could beat this challenge. But in order to make this show a success as amateurs, I could only seek help from them.”

“There’s no one better suited for the job than them,” Mari spoke up, shrugging. It was true. Vil was the one that had always been seen working relentlessly to maintain his beauty and Sir Crewel was known for his talent when it came to fashion. It was impossible to think of anyone else that would rival them in their fields in NRC.

“As expected of Scarabia’s dorm head, he’d do literally anything to achieve his goal. How amazing…” The hyena muttered under his breath.

“Distract the queen-- No, distract the entire audience then snatch the crown away in the meantime. “The title of this operation will be “Monopolize both the crown and their attention”! I will make this a success!” Vil exclaimed, a smirk of pure confidence on his handsome face. The girl often wished she had just an ounce of his self-confidence. Maybe then life would be easier for her.

“Ugh, what a pain…” Leona grumbled.

“Alright. First of all, you guys should have matching costumes,” Crewel told them.

“Would that include us? Ruggie, Grimm, and I won’t really be participating in the fashion show,” Mari asked, raising her hand as if she’s in class.

“Of course! You may not be part of it, but you still need proper clothes in order to sneak in,” he answered. “Entering a formal venue with dirty fur is unacceptable for my puppies.”

Right. Good point.

“Be grateful. I’ll make the most exotic and most exquisite costumes of all time.” Their teacher smirked. “I’ll be the one to make you guys stand out the most!”

And so it had begun. The group had been subjected to wearing countless fabrics to find the perfect one to use. Crewel got to work designing their costumes.

Bursts of sparkles enveloped them, then dissipated to reveal them in the costumes their teacher had designed for them. Everyone was dressed in pristine white clothes with floral patterns and flowers in their hair.

“How’s that? You could clearly see a bunch of puppies with gorgeous fur.” Crewel was satisfied with his own work, smiling at them.

“As expected of our teacher,” Vil commented, also smiling in appreciation of the craftsmanship. “The color is not too outstanding in order to draw out their own beauty, very stoic and kinda mysterious. The endless longing for the unknown, that is the true meaning of exotic.”

“Hmm. It’s easier to get along with someone who understands fashion like you,” the teacher said, glancing at him.

It’s nice that they were enjoying themselves, at least. Mari giggled lightly as she twirled in her dress. The light fabric was easy to move in and felt comfortable. If they ever needed to run, it wouldn’t hold her back at all. Their teacher probably considered this. She looked at the mirror to see how she looked and it’s fair to say that his work was amazing. It made her feel… otherworldly. She already was from another world but to look the part was a different matter.

“We’ve tried on different clothes again and again…” Jamil crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. His lips pulled downwards.

“I’m already tired and training hasn’t even started yet,” Ruggie sighed, closing his eyes. His ears were folded.

“Is that right? Designing costumes is always like this. Right, Leona?” Kalim spoke up, turning to the beastman prince.

“Kind of…” Leona crossed his arms as well, seeming disinterested in the situation.

“I think the trouble was worth it. Sir Crewel certainly did a fantastic job,” Mari commented as she stared at the floral lacing that ran across her waistline, fingers delicately tracing over it. A small smile graced her lips.

“It’s too early to be relieved,” Vil told her. “If the people wearing these clothes don’t act in a proper manner, the silk shirts they’re wearing might as well just be sack rags.”

“To become the center of attention on the fashion show, we must have some sort of performance.” He smiled. “A gorgeous walk with a gorgeous performance. Both of these are necessary.”

“First, I’ll have you guys show me your style of walking.”

Leona smirked. “All we have to do is walk? It’s so easy that I could do it in my sleep.”

Jamil rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his features. “If we’re too self-conscious, we might wander off at some point.”

Kalim gave a light laugh. It was as if he was the sun, radiating warmth. “No need to be nervous. Just relax and do it.”

Soon enough, the three were put to the test and let the model judge their skill.

“Very unexpected. I never thought that you could walk elegantly,” Vil said. “Impressive, Jamil.”

Said boy smirked. “It’s my honor to receive such praise from you, Vil.”

He turned to Scarabia’s dorm leader with a smile. “Kalim had a very noble posture. The education from your hometown has been beneficial for you.”

Kalim chuckled. “Is that so? Hehehe, I’m kinda embarrassed. Though, I only have great posture thanks to my love of dancing and not from the education I learned.”

“It’s true. Kalim had been learning traditional dances ever since he was a kid, while I took an interest in street dancing,” Jamil said, his lips pulled upwards. Nostalgia glinted in his eyes.

“I see. So that’s why you guys have such trained bodies.” Vil was clearly pleased with the two. Then, he frowned and turned to Leona, deciding to finally address the elephant in the room. Er, lion in the room. “Compared to that… Leona, what’s with your lame walking?” He glared at him.

“Ah? It’s the same as those Scarabia guys.” He closed his eyes, crossing his arms.

“It’s not the same at all. Jamil’s light step, Kalim’s nobility. You have neither of those,” he berated him, giving him an icy glare. “Your feet are dragging along the floor and you have atrocious posture. Your head was swaying as you were walking. It feels like your shoulders are cutting through the wind. It’s very boorish!”

“The title of prince sounds incredulous to me.”

“How ironic that the feline can’t catwalk…” Mari mumbled.

“He literally just criticized Leona.” Ruggie’s eyes widened in shock.

“Schoenheit,” Crewel spoke up, “For a useless dog like him, shouldn’t we train him to walk on two legs first? If we let him be, it’d be like letting a newborn kitten walk on the runway.”

“Indeed,” the model agreed with him, a troubled expression on his flawless features. “Having Leona perform when he doesn’t even have the basis of walking is kinda hard. If we can’t handle both at the same time, then we should focus on walking.”

He sighed. “I hate to admit it, but he has a commanding aura that could make him the main model. It’d be a waste if we don’t utilize that.”

“Scarabia got 100 points for walking. So now, try challenging the dancing part.” Vil gave his underclassmen a pleasant smile. “You guys will have the role of making the festival livelier. Your performance could also make the shitty main model stand out more.”

“Ah, we must follow Schoenheit’s plan to fill the hole that Kingscholar built,” Crewel said.

“Leona is so hopeless. I wonder if the both of us can cover him well.” Jamil rubbed his chin in thought.

“Let’s do our best! I already promised Leona that I’m going to take care of him.” Kalim, the little cinnamon roll, had a look of determination on his face.

“As a student from Savanaclaw, I feel so ashamed. I’m so sorry that he’s such a troublesome leader.” Ruggie sighed.

Man, they were all roasting him so much. Mari bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the situation as she didn't wanna be mean to him.

“I could also be your coach on teaching you how to walk on two feet,” Grimm told him, smirking.

“You guys…” Leona growled, glaring at them. “The moment I stay quiet, you all really couldn’t shut your mouths.”

Then, Crewel hit him with his whip. “Stop barking!”

She flinched at the noise. Oof, that’s gotta hurt.

The teacher smiled and placed a hand on his hip. “Listen up, puppies. Take in Schoenheit’s lesson and finish up the most perfect show ever!” He ordered them.

“Come on. Immediately start the lesson for the Fairy Gala!” Vil smirked.

And with that, he started coaching the three performers. In the meantime, Mari and Ruggie decided to practice their part. She sat down on a chair, wearing a plastic crown that she pinned to her hair. It took them a few attempts to get it right.

“Wow, their performance is exquisite! I can’t help but keep my eyes on these mysterious fairies!” Mari exclaimed, doing her best to act her part as the fairy queen. It was difficult to keep herself from laughing.

“Got it!” Ruggie grinned, holding up her plastic crown that he swapped out. “Did you notice it?”

She shook her head. “That was perfect! I didn’t feel a thing. How long did it take?”

“Shishishi,” he did his signature laugh, “Only 6 seconds to take out the pins. Leona really thought that I’d need 10 seconds.”

“Great! Now all we need is for those three to get their act straight,” Grimm cheered and they decided to check on their progress, making their way to Pomefiore’s ballroom.

“It hurts,” Kalim groaned. “Sorry for bumping into you again.”

“Kalim, just now you were supposed to step forward. Timing is key,” Jamil told him in a calm manner.

“You have beautiful posture but you make too many mistakes when you swing your body that way,” Vil spoke up.

“When I get too excited, it’s hard to control my arms.” The white-haired dorm leader rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish expression on his face.

“And Jamil, you make no mistakes with your dance but it’s too perfect to the point that it lacks the atmosphere that would make the festival livelier.”

“Vil, thank you for your hard work. We came to see how practice is going,” Ruggie said, walking into the room with his hands resting behind his head. “Is our leader doing well?” He snickered, turning to Leona. They were greeted with a chaotic sight. Leona was balancing a couple of vases on his head and shoulders. Sounds of water sloshing around coming from inside the vases.

His eyes widened in shock. “What’s happened?!”

“Vil! Get these off of me!” Leona barked at the model.

“It’s a method for correcting your posture. You must walk around the room without pouring any water from the vase,” he responded.

“You bastard…!” Leona growled, before he got splashed with water. His clothes became soaked.

“Restart.” Vil remained calm, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of water to refill.”

“AH I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE! I QUIT!” The soaked beastman cried out. “I don’t care if it going to keep snowing, I can’t keep doing these stupid things.”

Ruggie sighed, his ears folded. He shrugged. “Leona is hopeless. Kalim and Jamil keep messing up when dancing. Can we really keep up when the day of the Fairy Gala arrives?” He wondered.

“If they fail to capture the audience’s attention, we’ll be the ones in danger when we need to swap out the crown.” Grimm wore a fearful expression, holding onto Mari for comfort.

Mari caressed her partner’s fur, contemplating what’s to come. “Maybe we should try a different plan…” She mumbled. But then again, it’s likely too late for that.

“No problem,” Vil reassured them, still oddly calm as ever. “I’ll bet with my model spirit that I'll make the “Monopolize both the crown and their attention” plan successful.”

“But how are you going to do it?” Ruggie asked.

A smile formed on his handsome features.

“There’s only one way to make this work.”

Then his face broke out into a harsh glare, piercing the souls of anyone who dared look directly into his eyes. “By being stricter! If I need to force your own body to memorize the correct posture, then I will beat them into you so that you can never forget!”

SMACK!

The three men screamed in pain and shock. Everyone’s eyes were wide open, including the stealth group.

“He’s using magic to slap their butts!” Ruggie exclaimed.

Vil crossed his arms, continuing to direct his merciless glare at them. If looks could kill, they’d be sent straight to the Underworld. “Three of you, stand up. From now on, if you sit down without my permission, I’ll have you squat 500 times.”

“Leona, place the vase on your head and redo it. If you pour it, squat for an hour.”

His expression turned into one of exasperation. “We can’t keep doing this if you don’t train your body.”

He turned to the two Scarabia students. “Kalim and Jamil, three-legged run around the school if either one of you makes a mistake. It’s a joint responsibility.”

“No way…!”

Leona glared back. “Acting all bossy… Just who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Worldwide supermodel, Vil Schoenheit!” he shouted and used his magic to spank their butts once more. The force was so strong that it caused tears to come out of Kalim’s eyes.

“What a demon coach…” Grimm muttered under his breath and hid behind his supervisor.

Grueling training has begun for the three poor unfortunate souls.

Today was the day of the Fairy Gala. The group had been preparing, making sure that everything was perfect. Vil was applying makeup on them, his expertise in cosmetics was truly something awe-inspiring. He made sure to accentuate their best features and give them makeup looks to die for.

“It’s your turn,” he turned to the prefect, who sat on a chair in front of him. His fingers hooked from under her chin and tilted her head up to get a better look at what he’s gotta work with. She gazed back at him with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. He hummed for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Your inner beauty revolves around your motherly heart. So, I’d like to give you a more innocent and demure, yet mature look.”

The model got to applying the makeup. She followed whatever instructions he gave her while he did so. It was quite a pleasant experience getting her makeup done by him. As he worked, the rest of the group fixed their costumes.

“Where do I wrap this cloth?” She could hear Kalim ask from behind Vil.

“Give it to me. Just put it on your shoulder… Okay, done.” Jamil helped him out.

“Wearing these expensive clothes really got me feeling nervous… And itchy,” Ruggie mumbled.

“Just act natural and the fairies will think you’re one of them. Don’t be nervous,” Leona spoke up.

Vil stepped back to survey his work, seeing whether he was satisfied with it or not. He leaned in and added a few more finishing touches and a small smile pulled at his lips. He took a small hand mirror and showed it to her.

Her eyes widened in shock. She looked… ethereal. The overall style was more natural compared to the others as he didn’t want it to clash with the overall aesthetic of her costume. She had dusty rose pink strawberry-scented lip gloss that shimmered in the light and highlights only served to make her seem angelic. A delicate beauty that seemed out of this world. The true meaning of exotic.

He took everything into account and made a masterpiece. And it was enough for Mari to see herself as gorgeous, which she believed to be an impossible feat until now.

“I take it that you’re speechless at my skill.” Vil’s voice reached her ears. All she could do was nod in silence, mouth agape. He chuckled. “You’ve graduated from potato to beautiful fairy. At least, for today. If you worked harder, you could maintain your beauty.”

She looked up at him with a shining grin and sparkling eyes. “Thanks, Vil!”

After sprinkling fairy powder on her, he stepped back and allowed the rest of the group to see her. But if one were to look closer, they might’ve noticed the red dusting his ears.

“Everyone is so sparkly...” Grimm smiled.

“That is thanks to the needlework, but the effect mostly comes from the fairy powder,” Jamil explained.

“It looks really good on you guys,” Mari complimented them, chuckling.

“That’s my line,” Leona said, then turned to her. He eyed her up and down before he smirked. “Not bad for a herbivore, I guess.”

“Yeah, you look exactly like a fairy.” Jamil smiled, crossing his arms.

She couldn’t help but blush at the compliments, “Thank you…”

“Are you guys ready?” Vil asked. He gave them a firm glare. “If you lose focus now, our strict lessons will be for nothing. Look at the mirror, check your makeup.”

They all checked their appearances one last time to make sure everything was perfect.

“We started from an unsightly situation so I wasn’t sure if this was going to work.” He sighed, before a smile creeped up on his lips. “But I guess it’s not that bad after seeing the finished look.”

“Vil…” Kalim sniffed, before he wrapped his arms around the tall blond and embraced him. “VIL! Thanks to you, I can dance on the runway. I’ll do my best!”

“Don’t forget about the original goal,” he reminded him. His features softened up, a gentle smile on his face. It was rare to see him like this. “The mission is to get back the stone that the fairies stole from us.”

Aw, they looked so cute like that. After that little exchange, Scarabia’s dorm leader let go of him.

Vil closed his eyes and crossed his arms. “If we lose the magic stone, the usual school life will never come back again.”

He gave them a harsh glare. “Listen up, okay? It’s war on the runway.”

Then, he smirked. “Grab the crown and their attention with the greatest performance of all time!” His words were encouraging, filling the girl with a sense of determination. The fire in her soul burned brightly, undying.

“Alright!”

Vil looked out the window with an unreadable expression. He was confident in his ability to coach, so he shouldn’t have to worry about them messing up. At least, that’s what he told himself. However, something else was on his mind. It irked him to think that a magicless potato of a freshman would have such an effect on him. But he remembered the way she gazed at him with such genuine admiration. Her smile seemed to shine brighter than any star.

He was no idiot, and he was certainly not the type to deny his feelings. He knew exactly what he was feeling. Rook had always blabbered to him nonstop about this sort of subject. Not only that, but he was aware that he wasn’t the only one. Other men had been vying for her attention for far longer than he has been.

But no matter. He just had to show her why he’s the best option.

#vil schoenheit #twst vil #twst vil schoenheit #twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x mc #vil x mc #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #kalim al asim #jamil viper #twst grimm

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italian-pastry · 4 years ago

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Rambling about the Family Tree

Here’s the Family Tree!

And under the cut is all my rambling about designs or whatever! (this ended up not being about designs too much. Hm)

OK WE NEED TO BE ORGANIZED HERE I’ll be going generation by generation, from left to right. Everyone will be here, just for organization sake. Of course, some people are more important than others, so be warned for long rambles (in generation 2 especially) OK LET’S GO

Generation 1: Iida Parents: Idk man. They don’t even have designs. They’re probably cool Enji: He doesn’t deserve to be drawn well :) That and he doesn’t deserve to meet his grandkids :)) Rei: She deserves to be pretty and be a cool grandma. Her grandkids adore her. Hisashi: This mans is kinda wildin’ in my universe. Whatever he’s up to, it’s not being Inko’s husband. Inko: Soft grandma!!!!! We love her and she loves her grandkids and husband. Toshinori: He deserves to retire and settle down and be happy with his family and be adored by his gandkids. Emiko’s Father: He and Yukie got married (and Yukie got pregnant with Emiko) almost right out of highschool. He expected Yukie to give up her career to care for Emiko, but that didn’t gel with Yukie, so she divorced him when Emiko was little. Idk where he is now. Yukie: We love her. I love her. She’s super sweet and super cool and super short and that’s all you need to know. She also looks a lot like Eijirou (or, at least I tried to make them look similar) Crimson Riot: I subscribe to the Dad-Crimson theory, so here we are. After Emiko started elementary school, Yukie tried to get her career back together, but after meeting and having a thing with Crimson Riot and getting pregnant with Eijirou, she gave it up to be able to care for her kids. Nadie: An American journalist who moved to Japan for work! She and Yukie met and got married when Eijirou was 9-10. She has 3 kids from her previous marriage (that ended in disaster). Christopher Skyline: (Yes, THE Christopher “Captain Celebrity” Skyline. We’re just ignoring the Vigilantes canon over here.) Nadie’s ex-husband and the father of Hanae, Etsuko, and Suzume. He was a serial cheater, and the kids was a desperate attempt made by Nadie to try to make him stick around. Sperm Donor: Just a sperm donor. Mitsuki: Still looks SUPER young. She doesn’t like it when her grandkids call her “Grandma” or anything like that because it makes her feel old. Masaru: Loves being called “Grandpa” or whatever by his grandkids. He loves them, and likes to visit them a lot. Mika: Still quiet and chill. We love her. Kyotoku: Still loud and fun. He’s a cool dude, and he got them smile lines Beru: Her head is weird. I’m sorry queen, but it freaked me out. Ganma: He freaked me out even more. He was my least favorite to draw. Sorry bro. Uraraka’s Parents: Her dad reminds me of my dad (vaguely). They don’t have names, but they’re cool. Also, Ochako was able to get them a nice house, so good for them. Shouta: Just go look at @nartothelar‘s Silver Fox AU that was my main inspiration. He a grumpy old man who only likes his kids and grandkids and family. Hizashi: Same thing as Shouto. I like to think that all of his hair has grayed, so his hair is like Platinum Blond now.

Ok! Gen 1 done, and it was mostly me rambling about Eijirou’s parents. Maybe one day I’ll dedicate a post to them.

Generation 2: Tenya: I had him grow his hair out because 1.) I thought it was cute and 2.) it represents him loosening up a lil’ after school. He wears contacts during Hero Work, but wears his glasses casually. Tensei: Literally just the same dude. He’s Tensei and he’s chill and he’s cool. Dabi: I gave him an eyebrow piercing and a fun new cut. (Fun fact: That’s his Fantasy AU fairstyle) Fuyumi: I hope her hair looks very Teacher-y and Motherly. I think she looks super cute. Natsuo: A simple dude. He finds a cut that works and sticks with it. Although I did give him sideburns and a lil’ touch of beard. Shouta: Instead of shaving his red side, he combs the white side over it. Also, I hc that in his left eye, he’s half blind. Izuku: Yikes. He got the wound early in his hero career. He went blind in his right eye, so he and Shouta together are like 1 and 1/4 blind. Emiko: Eijirou’s older half sister. I would say she’s Girlboss and Natsuo is Malewife, and I think that’s accurate - even if only a little. She’s a social service worker, and met Natsuo in college. I had an old design before, but I like this one A LOT more Eijirou: I am a simp for long hair Eijirou, so here we are. ALSO freckles!!!! I love freckley eijirou. Also stubly beard and cool new scar. He is very dad. Hanae: The chill little sister. Probably a lawyer or professor or something smart like that. Etsuko: The crazy sister. She works in the hero field! If as hero support or as an actual pro, idk yet! Suzume: The ex-crybaby sister. She’s prolly doing something fun and artsy. Also, HUGE demigirl vibes Kane: The energetic little brother! He has most certainly gone pro, since he’s like very early 20s now. Fun Fact!: He was 6 when Mieko was born, so a lot of people thought they were siblings. It only got worse when Akio rolled around. Katsuki: hehe Undercut Bakugou. Also, hearing aids! I put his eyebrow scar there so he and his hubby are matchy matchy. Actually, both of their scars are pretty matchy matchy.... huh. Also, I’m totally not saying he was invloved in the fight that gave Izuku his scar, definitely not. Mashirao: STOP SAYING HE’S PLAIN AND ORDINARY. HE’S BEAUTIFUL DAMMIT. Every time I draw him I think about how darn pretty he is and that he could be like a KPop star or smth Tooru: It’s tooru! Super fun lil’ lady. What a queen. Mina: Look at that kick-ass scar I gave her. It’s what she deserves. Although, that eye may be a lil fucked up. Ah well, at least it looks cool. Yuuga: LOOK AT HIS HAIR. I am so happy with how it turned out! He so pretty. He and Mina are DEFINATELY Girlboss and Malewife. Hado: Also a simple lady. Prolly also needed to stick to her brand of long hair. She still super pretty tho. Lowkey disappointed I didn’t give her the stereotypical Anime-Protag’s-Mom hairstyle Haya: Completely shaved her head, and got more piercings! Like, 100% more Punk Rock. Itsuka: FRECKLES FRECKLES FRECKLES. And short hair!!!!!! Sigh, I love her. Tetsutetsu: I tried to make him look like Ejirou, even if just the face structure. I like how his hair and scar turned out tho. What a lad. Mezo: What a cool dude! Got a sick nasty scar, but covers it with his hair. I think, even with a majority of his face covered, he is still very handsome Miya: She has a name now!!!!!! What an icon. She’s a Hero Costume Designer, and she has a spider mutation. Wolf Spider, specifically (I think). She is so adorable and spunky I love her. Momo: Short hair!!!!!!1!1!1!11! God, what a goddess. We love her so so so much. Also, she gets to have a cool scar, too Kyouka: While she’s in UA, she straightens her hair, but after she graduates, she doesn’t care abt it. Momo rlly likes it curly. She also has that thing going on where you shave all of ur head except for ur bangs (and the side thingies). Oh! And eyebrow piercing! Satsuki: Pretty! Also, I made sure that all the girls who would’ve been 6-7 during the current time all had ponytails now (Satsuki, Etsuko, and Eri) Samidare: He’s super cool, and I decided to give him long hair to make him cooler. Also, Demiboy vibes, anyone? Tsuyu: A queen!!!!!! I love her so much!!!!!!! When her hair is down, it reaches to her shoulder blades. Ochako: SHE LOOKS SO BADASS I AM SO HAPPY. Look at her, with those cool scars, and that cool hair! What a queen! Mirio: Classic Mirio! Tbh, idk if I’ll give Mirio his quirk back. Like a lot of the stuff in the recent arc I’ve ignored, soooo......... Tamaki: He has SO MUCH HAIR. It ridiculous. Since growing it out, he uses it to hide behind if it’s left down. So Mirio likes to do stuff with his hair and make it look cute. Nikko helps, too! Eri: A queen!!!!!!!!!! Idk if she’ll be a Pro Hero or doctor that specializes with pro heroes, but I want her to be happy and help people! Hitoshi: Hanta and Denki weaves flowers into his hair a la Rapunzel all the time. The braid is really loose and shitty a lot of the time tho. Ah well. Denki: Because I moved his black stripe to down the center of his hair, my little sister keeps calling Denki and Race Car. And I agree. He got those scars because he was able to train himself to really not fry his brain anymore, but that means if he overloads, his electricity escapes some other way, so through his ears and into his face. Hanta: That scar was very strategically places because I am a firm believe that Sero will uncannily resemble Shouta when he gets older. I hadn’t done a really good job at that tho....... hm.

Gen 2 is done!!!!!! It was my fave generation to draw UwU. I’m not sure what to say with Gen 3, since I’ve already talked about them a lot. Jeez, idk. I’ll think about something to ramble about later.

@questionableholidayreally Tozen rlly said “I am literally just vibing ;)”

#Long post #bnha #bnha fankids #bnha next gen #I still cannot get over the fact that I drew 84 faces #like #damn #If u have any questions or just wanna yell at me just slide on into those asks! I'm happy to answer!#Born And Raised #Mha Born And Raised

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nokomiss · 4 years ago

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thank you for being a friend

for @jes-cher, who requested Steph+another member of the batfam doing a group costume?

“It’s a Halloween party, though, so we can just wear our uniforms and blend in.”

Steph stared. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No?” Tim said.

“You think that we can just all waltz in there in our stupid-expensive uniforms and people will just assume we got them at Party City? Have you seen a Party City costume?”

Jason snorted. “She’s got a point, Replacement.”

“I think that you’re overly complicating it,” Tim said.

Steph stared again, then turned to Jason. “You heard that, right? Tim just told me that I was overly complicating things?”

Tim sighed. “Jason, you don’t understand where this is leading.”

“Where do you think this is leading?” Steph asked, narrowing her eyes. Jason leaned back and watched the two of them, looking entirely too amused.

“You know that you love stupid group costumes,” Tim said.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure we all love stupid group costumes, we go out every night in them,” Steph said. She would not be shamed. She was among her own people here.

“I do not go out in a group costume with you losers every night,” Jason said.

“Do you or do you not have a giant bat-symbol on your shirt?” Steph crossed her arms over her chest.

Jason remained silent up until Tim snorted, at which point he jabbed a finger in Tim’s direction and said, “Not a word out of you until you’ve had a single original outfit ever.”

“Pants,” Tim sing-songed, unfazed by Jason’s threats. “I revolutionized Robin and you know it.”

“My point is, I refuse to go in the actual shitty version of my outfit, or the sexy version, so we absolutely need undercover costumes to wear,” Steph said loudly. “Besides, we all three know that my Robin uniform was the most revolutionary, not one of you fools added hair accessories. Do you have any idea how many weapons and lockpicks you can hide in a headband?”

She settled comfortably into her chair, pulling out her phone to find costume options, secure in the knowledge that she’d won the argument.

The case was a relatively simple one -- there was word about a mysterious shipment coming through Gotham, a contact claiming the major players were going to be at a Halloween bash, and Batgirl, Red Robin, and Red Hood had all noticed the case, no one had wanted to give it up, and thus the team up had occurred.

“We’re not actually going undercover,” Jason tried to argue, but Steph just shushed him.

“We’re doing this. Ooh! Group costume! So we can find each other!” Steph said, scrolling through different ideas. “What should we do? Rocky Horror? That meme of the lady yelling at the cat? Ghostbusters? Heathers?”

“We are not going as the Heathers,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “Wait, would we get croquet mallets? I can cause a lot of chaos with a croquet mallet.” Jason grinned at them.

“We’re aiming to blend in, not draw attention to ourselves,” Tim said.

Steph had to agree. “True. We get you two out there in miniskirts, and we’re gonna draw all sorts of attention.”

“Hell yeah,” Jason said, patting his own thigh proudly.

“I’ll order something low key,” Tim said.

Steph and Jason looked at each other in dismay. “Low key?”

“You can’t go low key at a Gotham Halloween party,” Jason said seriously. “That’ll stand out even more than our shapely legs.”

“Honestly, Tim.” Steph shook her head.

Tim looked briefly heavenward, then said, “Okay, do you want to be in charge of costumes?”

“Yes,” Steph and Jason said simultaneously. They eyed each other.

“Teamwork is a thing,” Steph said, doubtful, but she was far more doubtful in Jason’s ability to choose a group costume up to her standards.

Jason seemed to be having similar thoughts.

Tim looked between them, realized the chaos that was about to ensue, and said tactfully, “I’m going to go out, check on these sources, make sure the info’s good,” as though they hadn’t all already independently checked the sources.

“Weak,” Jason crowed at him as he left.

That left Steph and Jason alone with all the costume ideas the internet had to offer. It was more of a challenge that Steph would have thought.

“You know those costumes where someone has to be the horse’s ass? I vote we pick that. Dibs on Tim being the ass.” Jason propped his feet up on the table and looked smug, as though his idea was brilliant.

“Great,” Steph said. “Super easy to split up and find our mark dressed like that.”

“Oh yeah, the mark,” Jason said. “Well. There are plenty of options.”

They spent several minutes attempting to come up with one, but to no avail.

Steph froze on one option, struck with the brilliance of it. “What do you think it would take to get Bruce and Damian to patrol as the Mandalorian and Baby Yoda?”

“Surely between the two of us we have enough blackmail and guilt tripping to make it happen,” Jason said, “especially since it would spawn so much more blackmail material.”

“A totally sound investment.” Steph offered up a high five, which Jason met enthusiastically.

Steph kept scrolling, hoping for a group costume inspiration that didn’t involve t-shirts and tutus, but ideas were far more elusive than she would have thought.

“You know, I’m really rethinking our stance on the Heathers outfits,” Jason said, just as Steph hit paydirt.

“I have a better idea,” Steph said, holding her phone out gleefully.

Jason grinned.

“I’m sorry, Tim, you didn’t want to get recognized, right?”

Tim scowled, which made Steph frown at him and say, “You need to get into character.”

“I don’t know why you’re making me Rose,” he grumbled, adjusting his wig.

“Because Jason is twelve feet tall, he has to be Dorothy,” Steph explained. “And you blush if you even hear a double entendre, there’s no way you could pull off Blanche.”

“I do not blush,” Tim protested.

Steph opened her mouth, and he immediately clapped his hand over it. “Stop, I regret saying that, whatever horrible thing you were just planning on announcing, just… don’t.”

“See? You, sir, are no Blanche.”

Jason laughed, adjusting the way his own dress fit over his shoulders. They had to forgo masks, but the dresses were loose enough to hide most of their costumes underneath for a quick change.

The party was already in swing when they arrived, even though it was barely dark. The costumes were perfect-- amid all the bright spandex, colorful wigs, and knockoff superhero costumes, their grey wigs and floral old lady dresses were easy to spot.

The mark showed up after just thirty minutes of dancing and mingling, watching and listening carefully. Steph danced up to Jason, who was nursing a drink with a comical amount of fruit skewered in it and scanning the crowd. “Got eyes on him,” she said.

Jason tossed back the drink and set it down. Steph snagged the skewer of fruit, eating it as they danced their way back through the crowd towards the mark. Steph tapped Tim on the shoulder as they passed him, and together they followed the guy away from the dance floor and down a long dark hall.

The guy noticed them as he was about to unlock a door, turning and saying, “Private hallway. Party’s back that way.”

“You sure?” Jason leaned heavily against the door and Steph stepped behind the mark, pressing the now-empty skewer into his back between his shoulder blades.

“Open the door,” Tim said from the other side.

“Please tell me the goddamn Golden Girls aren’t trying to shake me down,” the guy said, clunking his head against the door.

Steph glanced between Jason and Tim, then shrugged. “Yep. That’s what’s happening. Open the door or it happens here in the hallway, where anyone could wander by and put it on youtube.”

The guy stared at the door, presumably weighing his options, before deciding that defeat came before humiliation and opened the door.

One glance around showed that was a mistake; Steph could see multiple crates still marked with the code they’d all noticed associated with the shipments they were chasing after. Tim slid over to the desk, and stared down at the papers scattered there. Steph could tell from his flabbergasted expression that all the evidence they needed was just lying there in the open.

She pulled a taser out of her pocket and hit the guy with a jolt, sending him falling to the floor unconscious.

“This was almost too easy, right?” Jason glanced at them.

“Shhh, don’t say that, you’ll curse us,” Steph said. “We’re going to accept that for once things are going smooth.”

Tim took photos of the evidence while Jason and Steph took samples of everything, which lined up with their assumptions about what was going on. It was easily the easiest take-down she’d had in months. Maybe there was something to be said for teamwork.

““Sophia!” Tim said suddenly, staring down at the unconscious drug runner. “I could have been Sophia!”

“Do you really see yourself as a Sophia?” Jason said, doubt obvious in his tone.

“Do you really see me as a Rose?” Tim shot back.

Steph snickered, finding untold joy in how very seriously Tim was taking his role. “I guess we should go,” she said. They’d accomplished all the vigilantism they’d come here for.

A pause.

“Maybe,” Jason said, glancing back in the direction of the party, “we should stick around. Make sure nothing else nefarious is happening. The dude could have had contacts here, it was his party.”

“You just want some of those cupcakes,” Tim accused.

“Jason has a point,” Steph said, zip-tying the mark and stepping back, admiring her handiwork. “We could call this in anonymously, and go back to the party. No one saw who took him down.”

“Plus, we all heard B mention he had a stakeout he needed someone to cover,” Jason said. “Gotta keep busy.”

Tim weighed his options, then said, “Well. I mean. You can’t just have two Golden Girls, no one would get the costumes.”

“Exactly,” Steph said, beaming. “Can’t waste a good costume.”

(Steph already had a plan for the next costume party stakeout, which given Gotham’s flair for the dramatic, would absolutely happen again -- Team Batgirl showing up as the Sanderson Sisters from Hocus Pocus, Babs leading the way with her red hair piled up in a riot of curls on top of her head, Cass bedecked in her gown her hair tucked up into a pointy hat, and Steph laughing with her blonde hair flowing free. The Golden Girls had been fun, but a missed opportunity was a missed opportunity, and Steph was going to rectify that as soon as she could.)

#my fic #stephanie brown #jason todd #tim drake #batfam #gen #halloween ficlet

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hysteriium · 5 years ago

Text

Expect the Unexpected

Gif not mine!

(A/N): Okay maybe this is really specific, but there’s this one scent that’s literally the best smell I’ve ever smelt in my entire life? It’s like an oceany scented candle - my description literally does not do it justice I made it sound gross - and omg idk why but I could literally just picture Arthur having something along the lines of this cologne?? But maybe I’m biased. Here it is if you wanna check it out but omg like I’m not even joking when I say it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelt (and I collect a shit load of candles).

!! ALSO - FORGOT TO MENTION ‘C/n’ = child’s name !! lol

Summary: I honestly don’t know what to write for this one?? AHAHAH

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Single mum!Reader

Word count: 8600k+ (I know, I know, shhhh).

Warnings: 18+ SMUT STUFF! Fluff and swearing!

////

When Arthur found himself in the slowly decaying, yet otherwise well taken care of backyard of one of his requestors, performing under the gloomy Gotham sky, never, would he have expected it to change his life. Especially for the better. No, never had he thought, for the better.

Arthur fiddled with his wig, the tips of his fingers scurrying under the strip of white which crossed his forehead, adjusting it. The fake, frizzy green locks were no longer lopsided, and he continued his routine in front of the kids before him. Laughter filled his ears. The only merriment he was accustomed to, and on that same train of thought, welcomed. It was nothing like the devious cackles of those who made fun of him.

No, the laughs before him were honest and kind; they appreciated him. Most touching of all, and similarly foreign to him, was the fact that they actually asked for his jokes.

He often wondered where things went wrong. When exactly did children, who were, for the most part, good-natured and compassionate, turn into horrible people? Transforming into the very same type that treated him like a punching bag? How and why, did they soak up the resentment of the world like a sponge?

He supposed it was during adolescence.

Teenagers were mean.

That much was evident from the purple blotches on his back, markings that were still yet to dissipate, and tender to touch. From such a horrible experience, at least he was able to draw one positive out of it. The positive being that his clown costume was ridiculous enough to hide his battered and bruised body. Away from prying eyes.

Then again, it wasn't like anyone would have cared.

Ultimately, he tried his best not to focus on the path his thoughts were leading him down. One of his biggest struggles was staying in the moment, and right now, with the crucial task of performing for a child's birthday, he needed to be grounded. To emphasise this, Arthur dug his nails into his palms. Painful enough to snap him out of his digression, lax enough to keep the blood rushing and undisturbed under tested skin.

As Arthur was finishing up his act, the magic wand which he seemingly pulled out of nowhere - at least from the kids' perspectives, produced a collective awe. He waved it around, bouncing from toe to toe in his giant clown shoes, flicking it towards the birthday boy. Said child was a small, (h/c) haired boy with twinkling (e/c) eyes; his name, (C/n).

(C/n) flinched when the wand was suddenly centimetres from his face. Though, he giggled when he saw the expression on the clown's profile. It feigned shock, a gasp leaving his apple-red painted mouth. The clown, which the child only knew as 'Carnival' retracted the stick, inspecting it with squinted eyes. Alongside this, his spare hand flew up to his face, scratching his chin in thought, looking as though he had never encountered such a complex dilemma in his entire life.

Then, without warning, the wand fell. No longer as sturdy as a stick, it wilted like a dying flower. The clown panicked, watching as it wiggled around in his desperate hands like a worm. While all seemed gloomy for the fate of the magic item in his hands, the children were giggling gleefully, intrigued at what would happen next. It was times like these that made Arthur's job bearable; made life bearable.

All he wanted was to make people smile.

Arthur, pretending as though he was about to give up, engaged with the object in one last attempt, the flick of his wrist propelling the rod into the air. Much to the children's astonishment, the wand had straightened itself, snapping back to its previously sturdy arrangement, with no sign of its prior drooping.

They had long since formed a circle around the colourful man, looking up in wonder, clapping for him.

Arthur then slipped the item back into his pocket, performing a victory clasp. He threw his interlocked hands over his shoulders and shook them in response to the applause. When the children hushed their amazement, Arthur stuck his pointer finger in the air, wordlessly requesting their attention. His eyes then shut tight as he concentrated. Whipping out the rod from his pocket once more, he gave it one final spin.

The children waited.

Nothing happened.

Arthur opened his eyes. Confused. It was difficult for him to process what happened next because it all happened so quickly. One second he was puzzled, the next he was rendered stunned, with a face submerged in flowers. First, he had heard it, the sprout, as a prominent 'whoosh' filled the air. Then he felt it; felt it tickling his nose.

The flowers themselves were not real ones, but they were vivid; pinks, purples, greens and yellows sprouting from the wand's end. Trying to play it off as though it was planned all along, Arthur mimed a sneeze, shaking his head.

With a sheepish grin, the clown pulled back. His face was now safe from the sinister touch of the vibrant, ticklish extensions, and he handed the hued bouquet to the birthday boy, hunching over to reach him. It wasn't hard to decipher what the boy was thinking. Unquestionably, a mixture of amusement and joy as laughter bubbled from his throat; his joviality a contagious song.

And thus concluded Arthur's act.

"You're so cool Carnival!" (C/n) hollered, waving the newly acquired flowers around.

Arthur beamed down at the boy.

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you!"

Arthur attempted to restrain the look of pain which crossed his animated features.

No, kid. No, you don't.

Not wanting to ignore the poor child, he shot (C/n) a forced smile and ruffled his (h/c) hair.

"No. One day, you're going to be even better."

The child gawked up at him, hope dancing in his gem-like eyes, reflecting light.

Thankfully, the moment didn't last long as Arthur's concentration was ripped from the depressing interaction. He had caught a glimpse of you, the parent, entering the backyard. You had tried to smoothly open the door, an attempt to reduce the obnoxious squeaking from the object, though your steady pace was futile. Despite the hesitant speed at which it was tugged, it was a protest that sustained.

It was just another complaint to add to the shitty standard in Gotham; everything was half-assed. A primary disease which ate at the heart of the city, decaying and transforming it into the bleak, loveless and harsh mother it was. When you were one of Gotham's children, affection was seldom. No matter how hard you tried to impress the mother, to display your achievements, to show strength, to get back up when you fell, the mother remained emotionless. Perhaps, she kicked you down some more.

Gotham was her name, and tough love was her game.

Arthur watched you, in all his costumed glory, and drunk in the way your hair was softly carried by the wind. How your skin was kissed by the suns rays; how you moved away from the shading of the roof, which protruded meters from the brick walls of the house, spotlighting your features. He honestly felt like he was in a movie, a movie that was set up for disaster - knowing his luck. He couldn't wait for the great mystery of how he was going to screw up, to unravel before his eyes. Could he even call it a mystery? He knew it was inevitable. A non-mysterious mystery? Expecting the unexpected except it was actually unexpected, though somehow, still expected?

Did that even make sense? He thought.

His brain hurt.

What was he doing again?

"Mum!" (C/n) shouted, rushing up to you, simultaneously breaking Arthur's buzzing thoughts as well as the one-sided staring contest he had engaged in.

"Hey, there buckaroo!" you grabbed onto his small form and hoisted him up against your hip, "how's my big boy?"

Arthur watched the heart-warming scene from afar, sorrow tugging at his heart. He couldn't help but flick through his memories, to try and find a time where his mother had been just as caring. Limited, but nonetheless there, he yearned for change; for his past to change. He'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Even at a young age. With no father or even knowledge of him, he was forced to take care of his mother. And while he loved his mother, with all his heart, it was an arduous task to take care of yourself and your own needs when you were supporting someone else.

"Good!" The child giggled in your arms, "Carnival is my favourite clown! Can we have him over every week?"

You couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I don't know buddy, I-"

"Please, please, please, please, please?" (C/n) whined, looking up at you with large hopeful (e/c) eyes.

"Run along and play, and maybe I'll talk to him," you tapped his nose, "that sound good?"

The boy frantically nodded his head, and as you set him down, he bolted off to join his friends. When he was on the other side of the yard, you turned towards the party clown.

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly grinned.

Arthur didn't really know what to say, the scene before him had truly made his heartthrob. It was a warmth that left him with some strange mix of belonging and attachment. Never before had he felt so appreciated. He wanted to say something, be honest, express his gratitude. And so, he said the first thing that came to mind:

"It's fine."

He wanted to kick himself.

"It's kind of strange how much he likes you. He's never really open. He can be quite..."

"Shy," Arthur finished for you.

When you gave him a quizzical look, he was quick to explain, "I-I, uh, I was the same."

Your lips upturned into a soft smile.

"Well, (C/n) must've picked up on it. Kid's are good like that - sensitive to vibes. It means you've got a good heart."

Arthur fidgeted, the words melting him.

"Oh! Um, thank you for coming on such short notice…sorry, I never caught your name?"

"A-Arthur."

"Glad to know your name's not actually Carnival."

His eyes sparkled at your joke, his amusement filling the yard.

"You're probably exhausted, come, I'll make some tea. Or coffee? Is there something you prefer?"

He was about to protest, not wanting to bother you, to go back home to his crummy apartment and lose himself in his journal for the rest of the day, but something compelled him to agree to the offer. He wasn't sure what.

"Coffee is okay, thank you," his smile hadn't left.

When you turned to lead, his eyes flew to your hands, searching for a ring. He also wasn't sure why he let himself.

There was none, however; no jewellery at all.

Huh.

He quickly caught up and shuffled inside after you.

"This really means a lot," you started, closing the screen door before turning to face him, "to me and, obviously to my son..."

A sombre look replaced your smile.

"...I haven't seen him this happy since we moved," you looked back at (c/n), watching him jump up and down with his friends, their voices filtering through the mesh.

"You're not from Gotham?"

You shook your head, rounding him to shift further into the kitchen, behind the counter. His eyes followed your zipping from, moving when you were out of view.

"Sugar?"

Arthur found his hands fidgeting with his wig again, refusing eye contact. A soft 'sure' passed his lips, followed by a 'two, thank you' as the porcelain clink of mugs being placed, echoed. The soft scatter of sugar followed soon after.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Arthur. You can sit down if you'd like."

The scraping of the chair from behind told you that he listened.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. You could tell he was starting to open up, less nervous than when you had first spoken to him. It was endearing.

"With all due respect miss-

"(Y/n)," you interrupted, turning to grin at the man. You noticed he had taken his wig off, his red foam nose too, displaying his almost raven coloured locks and chiselled features.

"(Y/n), he repeated. The way your name rolled off his tongue had your stomach fluttering, a sensation that caught you off guard.

"Why did you move to Gotham? It's not exactly the...best place to be."

"Life works in funny ways," you started, "one minute you're on top of the world, the next the floor crumbles beneath you, and suddenly you're in a hole."

Boy, did Arthur understand. Although he knew you weren't able to see him, with your back turned towards him, he nodded his head frantically. How were you able to so eloquently sum up his life? His whole existence?

"Sorry, I'm oversharing," you awkwardly laughed.

"No! I know what you mean..."

With one flick of the kettle's trigger, you returned to Arthur.

"I take it you're a native Gothamite?"

He nodded.

"I live with my moth- … my mother," his voice lost confidence towards the end as if he was ashamed of such a fact.

This was only supported when he scrambled to get out his next words, "she needs help sometimes, and I'm the only one who's around to take care of her."

"I'm all she has…"

You gave him a reassuring smile, gently touching his interlocked hands which were resting on the table. He flinched at the contact.

"You don't need to justify yourself, Arthur. I'm sure your mother's proud to have raised such a compassionate man."

You had caught him off guard - that was for sure. Flicking through the entirety of your interactions wasn't needed to come to the glaringly obvious conclusion that he wasn't used to being complimented. That he wasn't used to any form of nicety, and that fact well and truly broke your heart.

Who had hurt him?

Arthur had yet to find evidence of repulsion - yet to find anything that indicated you were weirded out by him; like the guys at work. He relaxed into the hold a second later, when he realised it wasn't anything threatening. Or, part of some malicious, ulterior motive.

"As strange as this might sound, you're really easy to talk to, Arthur. You're a good listener."

"Really?" He couldn't hold back the crooked, love-struck grin that infiltrated his features, and he was about to compliment you too when the shrieking of the kettle broke up the moment, causing you to pull away from him.

He felt cold; the warming action starkly contrasted with the wind which permeated through the mesh door.

In seconds, you had returned with your steaming beverages, warning of the burning hazards, though your touch hadn't returned.

Fast-forwarding through the small talk and the stories which decorated your conversation, Arthur eventually finished his coffee, and never before had he been so smitten. Out of all the jobs he'd gotten this week, which weren't many, this had been the most enjoyable. Although his work here had finished a while ago, he had tried to stretch out the minutes, just to hold onto the glimmer of happiness he knew would dissipate as soon as he left. He could feel time laughing at him, sticking its ghastly tongue out while telepathically hammering the fact home. He couldn't drag it out any longer.

And so, when it was time for him to leave, heading towards the door, he paused and swallowed his pride, doing what he thought was best.

"Did you want to get dinner sometime?" He said, turning back around as he placed an awkward arm against the arch of the hallway, leaning on it. He saw it in movies. The cool, nonchalant characters always got the girl, so it must work.

Right?

No, that was stupid, he thought.

He forced the limb down, it bumping against his side.

His fingernails dug into his palms again, for the second time that day, pressing against the very same spots as he waited for a response. He was expecting rejection. No way would she say yes, what was he thinking? At least he could say he tried; at least he'd had one positive interaction in the last few months.

Sorry kiddo, guess Carnival's not coming back.

His negative thoughts were disrupted by the sound of your reply. A reply in which made him delighted for taking a chance.

Because your next words were nothing but a sweet package of glazed agreement.

"I'd love to."

Uttering something about a day and a time, to which you agreed, he quickly found his way out of the house.

When he slipped outside into the fresh air, he shut the front door. Away from everyone's gaze - at least those he cared about, namely you. He felt compelled to move. One of his legs with a mind of its own crossed over the other, twirling him around against your patterned brick pathway; a path in which led to the small gated exit. His arms then followed a similar pattern, striking the air, drumming into it. With one slide, the soles of his shoes skated against concrete, pushing him towards the iron gate. He felt good as he opened it. He felt confident. Laughter bubbled from his lips, failing to halt as he travelled further and further away from your house.

He smiled all the way home.

And, it was only until he reached said home, emptying out his pockets while changing into more comfortable clothes, that his fingers brushed up against a flat, smooth surface; thin and malleable. He wrapped his digits over the peculiar material and brought it to eye-level, palm exposed.

It was a small, folded piece of paper. White, though crumbled from being cramped up in his pocket.

He didn't remember placing it in there...

Arthur's eyes grew wide when he unravelled the mysterious sheet, a line of numbers taking up a good portion of its space. Below it was a small 'call me - (Y/n)' written out neatly, a drastic variation to his own child-like scribbles. He reclined his head against a nearby wall, letting his childish exuberance take over.

Turns out you were quite the magician yourself.

———

Arthur sat alone, leg jittering as his eyes glanced back and forth from the clock on the pale wall opposite him, above the entrance. With each darting glance, barely a minute between them, he became increasingly aware of the chatter around him. While there weren't many people in the area with him as the tables were more empty than they were filled, he was highly conscious of the fact that he was the only one there without company.

For the first time, he looked out the window he rested against. The chilled frame soothed his hot face as he watched people stroll by, hoping to catch you. His attempts were, sadly, in vain.

You were late.

When he returned his gaze to look back at the clock again, he tried his hardest not to make eye contact with any of the staff. He knew that if he did, they'd flock to him like a swarm of bees. Instead, he kept his head low, pretending to look at the menu.

After another five minutes passed before the bell hanging off the door finally rang. His gaze immediately shot to the noise, locking with yours. Air left his mouth, both in relief and at the red dress you were wearing, coincidentally matching his own red suit. It hugged your figure, complimenting every curve, and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes from wandering.

You hadn't stood him up.

As your beaming face lit up the world around him, your clacking heels took you to the booth opposite him, observing the room with a smile as you did so.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" You exclaimed, placing your purse down, sandwiched by you and the wall.

"Kids," you rolled your eyes.

"You came," were his first words, his eyes riddled with a strange confusion, yet a light - hope. He believed he had articulated his surprise internally, that was, until you gave him a look.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"I-I don't know." He sputtered out.

He did.

As you both got settled in, Arthur for the first time that night willingly made eye contact with one of the servers. Your orders were speedily jotted down and taken to the chef within minutes.

Conversation flowed, and his jokes actually got a reaction out of you, much to his surprise. The tension, or rather the anxious energy that seemed to bounce off the two of you melted, fading away light the lights of the cars that sped by the open window. In its absence, a playful aura took told. Small touches here and there, and your leg which rubbed against his, even if it was accidental, left his head spinning. This, he thought, was bliss.

"So," you started, a finger twirling around a strand of (h/c) hair, "I've decided."

Arthurs brows furrowed, allowing you to continue.

"I have to tell you something," you said, rubbing your hands against your dress; a nervous tick.

A finger curled into his collar, tugging at it to cool his heating body temperature. Arthur's anxiety which was already a mess, exacerbated from hearing one of the most infamously terrifying phrases.

"I feel like it'll be good for me to open up - I haven't told anyone since I've left. No one really knew in the first place, except a few friends."

Arthur didn't know what to say.

It sounded serious. Your words held a unique gravity to them. And while he felt the air around them shift, from light-hearted and playful, to darker, more solemn, he could tell you had been repressing what you were about to tell him for a good while. He knew the look.

His hand reached over the table to meet yours. They were timid, brushing against yours experimentally until he knew you were comfortable with his affection.

"How the tables have turned," you joked, allowing his hand to slip into yours.

"I was in a nasty relationship," you started off wavering, a sigh passing into the air, "I only dared to leave a few months ago."

Arthur's heart virtually broke as you revealed this to him. He watched as you swallowed the lump in your throat, noting how your eyes started to flutter from the stinging of tears.

"It endangered me and my son. It took a lot of strength to leave, but I had to for (C/n). He's my world, and I care about him more than myself."

Tears by now had fallen, running down your cheeks. Arthur intently listened to your confession.

"Moving to Gotham was the only way we could start over, and if I could have given him a better life, I would have, but it was the best I could do. I just wanted to see him happy again."

You let out another sigh, trying to blink away a few of the stray tears, though Arthur beat you to it, his hands moving to your face, wiping them with his thumbs. He felt how you leant into his touch, your eyes falling shut with a sniffle. As grim as the situation was, he was happy you were comfortable enough to tell him such a heartbreaking story.

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a laugh out to mask your vulnerability. Arthur saw right through it.

He gave you a look, one that virtually said 'are you serious?' before he spoke, exasperated, "what for?"

"I don't know...for crying? For dropping this on you, for-"

"Hey," Arthur's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, his hands still cupping your face, "if I even had half the strength of you, I'd-"

"I'd-"

Arthur paused, his voice coming out as chokes.

Oh no.

He felt an overly-familiar twitch in his throat, a reflex in which he tried to stifle by clamping his mouth shut, contorting his face in pain to keep it at bay.

He never could.

And then, at the worst possible moment, the worst he could possibly think of, he hunched over and wheezed, cackling over the table. Your eyes, riddled with confusion from the lost contact, was promptly replaced with hurt at his sudden laughter.

He quickly noticed this, shaking his head.

Everyone else in the establishment, with what few were there, reared their heads to the ruckus, watching Arthur spiral.

"I-I'm so-" he started, desperate to contain himself.

It only made things worse.

"S-sorry."

He fiddled with his pockets, trying to produce the laminated card, he practically depended on. His fingers brushed the plastic, and he frantically pulled it out, sliding it to the other side of the table.

Please understand.

Please, please, please.

You had been the only person he'd connected with in months, perhaps longer. And now, he was about to ruin it with his stupid, stupid, stupid condition.

Guess the mystery had unravelled, he thought bitterly.

He tried to watch your expression for any indication of disgust or contempt. It was difficult, however, as he continued his fit, a hand hitting the table's surface. Another reflex. The pain was starting to set in, his lungs screaming, and his chest aching.

Please just let it end.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Your voice surprised him, the kind tone and the understanding in your eyes was something he had to get used to. Something he wanted to get used to. How were you so kind? So accepting?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get a few words out.

"I have-"

"Have to-"

He tried to breathe, nearly choking.

"W-Wait."

"It's okay," you comforted, hurt no longer manipulating your features.

"Take your time."

———

In Arthur's eyes, the date had gone really well, or at the very least as well as it could have gone considering his outburst. He was happy, the feeling of warmth and nervousness he felt around you was something he hadn't really experienced with anyone, or really had the chance to. He kind of liked it.

He felt like he could be himself. You'd laugh at his jokes, his puns, regardless of how morbid they got; the most you'd do is playfully slap his shoulder and bite back a grin - guilty for laughing. He never understood the frivolous sayings about love, how things could sound so far fetched and dramatic, but now, he understood.

He didn't know how it was possible, how someone as beautiful as you, could be interested in someone like him.

After eating, you both walked under the darkness of the sky, the pinpricks which twinkled above, smiling down. Content was the air that surrounded your bodies, a loving blanket. With nothing more than a few minutes walk back to yours from the restaurant, you relished in his company.

It wasn't long before you both arrived back though, almost too soon, with the giddiness of your date still swirling around in both your heads. Arthur, at some point, had wrapped his red suit jacket around your goosebumped form, an action at which you had initially declined, but gave in when he insisted. You thought it felt good against your warming skin, the smell of his cologne intoxicating. As you entered the hallway, leading him back to the living room, you were happy to see the babysitter you had hired playing a board game with your beaming son. She was the teenage daughter of a friend you met at work, and you, happy to help out a struggling youth, decided it was the perfect opportunity to go out with Arthur. After paying her, and seeing her off, you excused yourself for a moment and vanished into one of the other rooms.

Arthur had sat down on the table like last time. The wood cooled his clothed forearms as he watched the child from across the room walk his way over, and push himself into the chair opposite him. Once (c/n), was comfortable, Arthur shot him a smile - one that wasn't returned.

(C/n)'s bright eyes were suddenly reduced to slits, his arms crossed and observing the dressed-up man. It made Arthur uncomfortable, to say the least. What had caused the dramatic shift in attitude?

Nothing was said, for at least a good two minutes, until finally, the small child in his blue space pyjamas saw it necessary.

"You know, my mommy really likes you."

Uh oh.

Arthur made a face back to the boy.

He wasn't entirely sure what face he made, though it didn't matter because the child picked up on his general disbelief anyway.

"It's true!" His arms shot out into the air, "I do too!"

There was no way a child could know such things; plus, nothing was ever certain. It was with this that he pushed down the hope that had sprung up, like a freshly bloomed flower in spring - its stem resistant and youthful, not yet pressed by the wilting life would inevitably bring.

"So you better not be mean to her!" (C/n) exclaimed.

The double meaning behind what the child said made him internally cringe. Arthur now knew the context of your troubled pasts and whilst what (c/n) had said was innocent, had saddened him. Not just over the fact you had been through hell in the first place, but because, for a moment there, Arthur saw himself in the child; a reflection of what he was still like. Always having to take care of his mother - look out for her. Support her any way he could.

Arthur's eyes softened in understanding, a great respect for the child forming. (C/n) sincerely looked up to you - loved you, and he was willing to resist anything that endangered that.

Arthur leaned forward, a forearm extending. His elbow rested against the table's surface and all his fingers, except for one - his pinky - curled into his palm.

"I promise," he said, eyes firm, a certainty the child was happy with.

(C/n) reached his small body over, his knees digging into the pads of cushioning on the chair as his significantly tinier finger wrapped around Arthur's skinny one. A smile was shared between the two of them.

When Arthur went to pull away, he was stopped by (C/n)'s whine.

"No! You have to lock it!"

"Lock?" Arthur questioned.

(C/n)'s tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached his small thumb over to Arthur's, tapping it. After much trial and error, the older man finally got the hint and connected the tip of his thumb with the boy.

"There!" (C/n) exclaimed.

Unbeknownst to the two seated at the table, you had snuck back into the room, watching the heartwarming scene unfold. The gentle noise of your knocking signified your return, and Arthur, with surprise, jumped in his chair, quickly standing. You bit into your lip, trying not to laugh.

He made his way over to you when you extended your arm, his red suit jacket floating in the air as your fingers gripped it from the top. In one quick movement, it was hugging his body again.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled.

As much as he wanted to stay, to talk to you all night, his eyes caught the time which had apparently flown by, like a flock of birds migrating for the winter. He had undoubtedly overstayed his welcome, and his mother was probably worried sick.

His eyes grew wide.

"I-I have to go!"

His sudden shift in mood had you worried.

"Arthur? Are you okay?"

"I'm really late. I'm sorry."

"Oh - okay well, let me walk you to the door?"

It was barely a few meters away, and you internally scolded yourself. How obvious could you get?

He quickly nodded.

Your form quickly moved past him as you hear Arthur's gentle voice in the background say goodbye to (C/n). When your fingers gripped onto the doorknob, pushing it, Arthur squeezed past with a small 'thank you'. You felt the nips of the wind against your exposed arms, causing you to shiver. The distant noises of Gotham - the blaring sirens which were muffled, and the faraway clamour of car horns, was something you had gotten used to; it was a city that never slept.

Arthur stood awkwardly in front of you, lost. It was then when you realised you had to make the first move.

"Thanks for tonight," you said, hands wrapping around him in a gentle embrace, chin resting on the pad of his shoulder. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils instantly. It was oceanic, traces of bergamot and melon, with a hint of frangipani; so perfectly him. It was a fragrance that you associated with safety, the small feeling of comfort burrowing in your stomach.

He froze from your actions, evidently stunned. His arms then snaked their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"I had a great time," you whispered, eyes closing against him.

The husky agreement which you felt vibrate in his chest induced a sinful shiver. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in his arms for longer, hell for the rest of the night, you knew he needed to be somewhere. Tearing yourself away, the hands remaining at your hips stopped you, squeezing into your sides. This prompted you to look up at the man, into his hardened eyes. They looked to be concentrating, portraying an internal war. His Adam's apple bobbed. You didn't get a chance to ask if he was okay because he moved before you could, his lips quickly pressing themselves against the softness of your heated cheek before scurrying off.

You smiled, fingers grazing the area.

Arthur was a unique man. Strange, but endearingly so.

So soft and gentle; kind.

He would never hurt a fly.

———

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Arthur repeated the mantra in his head.

He'd fucked up - fucked up big time.

He'd shot three men - killed them in cold blood.

His ears were still ringing from the gunshots, and he remembered the way his hands shook as he held the trigger. How his tremors diminished with every squeeze until finally, a hardened look replaced his fear. His whole demeanour had altered within those critical seconds.

As he found himself back in the present, his makeup smudged and appearance dishevelled, he emerged out of the public bathroom, panting.

He felt different.

The eyes which had stared back at him in that mirror didn't feel like his own. They didn't harbour the terror they once swam in, nor the naivety. His body, which had moved with grace and finesse, had danced on the dirty tiles instead. His movements came from the soul; a conglomeration of motions he was unaware he was even capable of.

Yes - he was different.

So, when he wiped off his makeup, and kicked his leg out, against the resistance of the bathroom door, he didn't go back to his apartment. He didn't want to see the rats in the lobby, scurrying and squeaking, only a matter of time before they found their way into his apartment. He didn't want to stare at the wall for hours, envisioning what could have been, and the what if's. He didn't want to sit down with his journal and think about how depressing his life was - just to get his therapist off his ass.

No, he didn't want to.

So he didn't.

Preferably, he found himself going in the other direction. To the place where he felt most welcomed. Loved.

Although the date had been days prior, he felt the need to see you.

He didn't know how long it took him to get there, all he knew was the thumping of his heart, it's frantic beat echoing in his ears when he rapped on the door. The sound hollow.

Your head peaked out, groggy from sleep as you opened the door, its range widening when you saw him. It was late, perhaps late enough to be considered the early hours of the morning, but you didn't question it. Rather, his name passed your lips with concern.

Arthur didn't hear you call his name. Though he saw your lips move, plump and inviting. No sound reached his dazed state. His hands found your face alternatively, thin digits sliding below your mastoid, save for his ring finger and pinky. Wasting no time in seizing your lips, his mind worked overtime to memorise every little detail - of the moment he had been waiting for; the grand finale.

Every scent - like the perfume that seeped into your skin, faint and applied hours prior. It was a scent he often detected, sometimes rubbing off on his clothes, but an odour he never got sick of; heavenly.

Every feeling - like the way your hands wrapped around his form, gripping him tightly to steady yourself from your stumbling - from his pushes into the house. Or, like the feeling of his stomach, how it fluttered when you kissed him back, his heated blood pumping through him.

Every sound - like the soft 'click' of the door behind him, which he closed with the sole of his shoe.

Every taste - like the raspberry chapstick which coated your lips, mixing in with the contrasting flavour of his carmine lipstick. Although most of it was wiped off, there were distinct traces. Smudges.

Every sight - the way your playful grin took up most of it when you pulled away, teeth dragging your bottom lip, leading him to your bedroom.

When inside, Arthur dipped you down onto the bed, his slim frame hovering over yours with darkened eyes. The dim glow of your lamp residing on the bedside table allowed you to identify the hunger in his look. A lusting fire which burned right before you, behind those glassy, blue eyes. The warmth of his lips met your mouth once more, but only for a second because he shifted his attention to the base of your neck. The moments in between had you complaining from the loss of contact, a noise which he chuckled at.

He wanted - needed - to explore every curve of your body; every crevice. Map it in his brain.

"Arthur," you whispered. He shivered at the sound of his name breathlessly leaving your lips, goosebumps forming across his skin. In response, he hummed deeply - an acknowledgement which originated from the back of his throat, the vibrations sinful against your heightened senses.

"What's gotten into you?"

The confidence radiating off of him, although adding to the pool in your panties, had surprised you. You had to remind yourself that the previously timid Arthur and the man above you were the same person.

"I need you," he husked.

Amazed by his forwardness, though equally as desperate, your voice came out shaky, "then take me."

Three words. Those lovely three words were all it took for him to lose himself; his control. The tightness of his pants was becoming too much to bear. It was his own personal prison, and the anguished motivation to escape was only increasing by the passing moments. Judging by the way you were grinding against him, pressing against his crotch unfairly, he knew you were just as riled up.

His kisses seared into your skin, rendering you a whimpering mess. Your back arched against the mattress, an action driven entirely by instinct as his hands slipped under your shirt. In an attempt to make things easier, your hands hooked under the shirt as well, bunching it up. When he sensed the movement, he assisted you with the material. In your whirlwind of passion, the article of clothing had been removed, thrown away as it was left sprawled across the floor, uncaringly. His breath hitched in his throat when he realised there was nothing underneath it, except for your underwear.

"You're beautiful," he said, pupils full-blown.

Your eyes then smiled up at his in the delicate moment, the tender upturn of your brows leading to the capture of his lips. Without so much as moving away, his slender fingers fiddled with his dress shirt, he too, removing himself from its constraints.

He suddenly pulled away as his frustration reached its peak. His need for you had become overpowering, and he worked his way down towards the only piece of clothing you had left. The light, tickling touch of the pads of his fingers slid down your ribcage, tracing down your hips until they reached the waistband. His thumbs dipped under the elastic, and with the cooperation of your wiggling, it was promptly discarded. His caress was ever so gentle, his handling virtually leaving you quaking beneath him.

Arthur wasted no time in pleasuring you, this was proven to you quickly when one of his digits smoothly slid into your cunt. The sound of your wetness was vulgar, although all the more alluring.

He felt drunk; hazy. In some sense, it was surreal that this was occurring, that you were actually interested in him in the first place. Yet, there was another part of him that was screaming at himself to focus, to halt his berating comments and take pleasure in the way you were crumbling before him. He tried to do the latter.

"Fuck- oh my god!" You immediately cried out, hands darting to cover your mouth as he slowly started pumping his finger. His devilish movements had your other hand fisting the sheets.

Your breathing swiftly became ragged under the knuckle you bit down on, and he hastily added another finger, loving your reaction. He felt his chest swell with pride as he glanced up at your dishevelled manner. Encouraged by the enchanting sight, he picked up his pace. It was relentless and brutal, the thrusts forcing obscene mewls from you, some no longer containable. Raising your hips to meet his rhythm, to relieve the overwhelming knot forming, you knew you weren't going to last long. Arthur knew this too, your squirming made this clear, and he instantly added his lips to the equation, stimulating your clit.

You were done for.

As your walls clenched around his fingers, your hands rushed to grip his hair. They weaved through his untidy strands, pushing his head down while the wild flicks of his tongue assisted you with your earth-shattering orgasm. Ecstasy rushed over your trembling form, and as your thighs tensed, the tip of your head grazed the headboard; you swore you could see stars. Arthur's cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you unfolding before him, impossibly hard.

"Holy fuck!" You moaned.

He kindly slowed his rhythm when he knew you finished, yet his tongue licked a long stripe against your slit, moving to lap up your juices. The sensation, as well as the hums that lasciviously left his mouth, vibrated against your already sensitive core, setting you down the path for a second climax.

Perhaps he had done it on purpose, but when you felt the pressure in your abdomen, ready to burst again, he pulled away.

"No!" you cried, "Arthur, please! I'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" You sobbed quite shamelessly. In all honesty, your words surprised yourself, and apparently Arthur too, because laid sat there for a moment, eyebrows raised as a delicious smirk settled over his lips. He took his merry time, with no sign of returning to you, savouring your pleading.

"Beg," he purred, sitting up as his tongue lolling out to lick and suck on the fingers that had fucked you into oblivion. His eyes never shifted from yours, and you watched with absolute astonishment, upon desire, at the action. Your reaction only egged him on.

What exactly happened to him in the last 72 hours?

You were genuinely bewildered at the whole situation. The last thing you would have expected was to have Arthur rock up in the middle of the night and turn into a sex god. Though, you certainly weren't complaining.

While one of his hands was busy, in his mouth, his other trailed up your thigh. Eventually, it reached your bundle of nerves, tracing small circles with his thumb, agonisingly slowly.

"You're so good to me, fuck," you whined, stirring against his touch. He pulled away again when you bucked into his hand.

"Please-"

"Please, what?"

"I need you inside me, Arthur, fuck please-"

He couldn't take much more of your begging, his own self-control had wholly vanished by then, and he quickly shifted out of his pants, freeing himself. When his cock fell into his fist, he gave two steady pumps before lining himself up with you. You held your breath in anticipation despite your wild heart, making you feel dizzy. The relief you had been longing for - no aching for - had finally arrived when he pushed himself into you.

"Oh god- you feel so good," you gasped. The moan which fell from Arthur's lips had your name mixed in, a deliciously carnal sound. As he started moving, a slow rhythm from his hips developing, he shut his eyes. With his concentration on chasing his finish, salty beads of sweat trailed down his forehead.

"Arthur," your gentle voice had called, "w-wait."

Upon hearing your words, he immediately stopped, eyes flying open with concern.

"Let me take care of you."

He was confused as to what you meant until you maneuvered yourself on top, kissing him softly.

You could see the stutter in his confidence at your words, though his nod signified his consent. With a small smile, you made sure he was comfortable before your entrance started teasing his cock. You felt him tense up, and when you made the movement again, he thrust into you, an involuntary action which made you both cry out. His stroke hit you perfectly the first time, harsh yet euphoric. If you woke up the next day and found your body aching, you wouldn't be shocked.

His arms reached over to embrace your form as you buried your face in the crevice of his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Then, fully adjusted to his length, you started to move up and down on his cock, the feeling of him stretching your walls overwhelming.

"You're doing so well," you gulped, your panting warming the side of his throat.

"I want to see you," he managed to murmur out, and his request was promptly granted when you pulled away from his neck.

His hands slid down to grip your hips when you shifted, guiding them as you bounced. No longer did he need to fantasise about being with you, image you writhing in pleasure as he touched himself. No longer did he need to envision the way you felt around his cock, the way you moaned; it was now his reality. Hell, even Arthur's wicked fantasies couldn't have prepared him for this. Nor the words that left your mouth next, sending him spiralling.

"Let go, Arthur. Cum for me."

He did.

And hard.

His orgasm rocked him to the core, and you milked him for all he had, his hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Both your paces slowed, becoming sloppy as you came crashing down seconds later.

Deathly tired, you collapsed on top of his chest, exhausted. The only sound that could be heard were your frantic breaths, and you could've sworn your heart too, considering how hard it was beating. As you both took a minute to calm, neither of you move from each other, his cock still buried within you.

Only when you felt him soften did you slowly depart, rolling beside him. Arthur's grew heavy when you did, though they tried to resist the weight of his lethargy. He managed to twist his frame over to you, giving you one last kiss, the taste of yourself prominent in the heartfelt and passionate kiss, before he finally gave in.

Sleep gripped your forms.

———

Arthur stirred at the alien sensation of warmth next to him. Your naked body was pressed against his, head leaning on his chest as his arms protectively enveloped your frame. It took a few moments for this to register, and a lot more minutes for him to realise this was real; that this wasn't a dream - a product of his imagination.

He hadn't woken up in his own bed with his sheets dirtied from, well, his...dreams.

Everything had actually happened yesterday.

Your beautiful form was really there in his grasp, face relaxed with soft exhales leaving your nose. He could feel the breath against his skin, a perception his body reacted to on its own.

Don't start, he thought, scolding himself.

Perhaps it was his staring that had woken you next, or the soft, dulled yellow tone of the suns rays projecting past the white curtains. He wasn't sure. But, when your (e/c) eyes bore into his, fluttering open with a grin he knew he'd never get used to, he realised it didn't matter. Its appearance always managed to sucker punch him in his gut, make his heart stop. And if that was the way he was going to die, fuck, he really couldn't complain. He'd choose it if he could. Your radiance was sincerely otherworldly to him, angelic - personally constructed and moulded by the angels themselves.

"Goodmorning," you yawned, arching your back into a stretch. Soft groans left your lips and pops from your joints filled the air. Arthur's finger trailed your spine, forcing you to shiver.

"Morning," he replied lazily, a drowsy smile gracing his lips.

"I don't wanna get upppp" you whined, voice still affected by sleep as you nuzzled into him.

"We don't have to," Arthur shot you a look, one you were quickly starting to identify as his sex expression. Its appearance forced you to roll your eyes playfully, something he laughed at.

"Maybe later, loverboy."

After one soft morning kiss, you both decided it was best to do the complete opposite of what you wanted and get up.

As you both tossed on the discarded clothes from your nightly activities, Arthur beat you to the kitchen, refusing to let you sort your breakfast out. Your giggles decorated the hallway as you admitted defeat, knowing he wasn't going to give in. In no time, Arthur had somehow transformed into a chef, something he casually brushed off, stating he learned for his mother.

Not long after, a long metallic groan - of hinges - sounded. Then, frantic footsteps littered the hallway, a short form entering the kitchen soon after, eyes observing the scene before them.

"Are those pancakes?" The boy asked, looking between you and Arthur.

Arthur winked at (C/n). It was enough confirmation for the kid and his feet lept off the ground repeatedly. His cute red pyjamas had green patterns of t-rex's scattered across the fabric, a fact he exhibited to Arthur every few minutes.

So, this was what having a family felt like, Arthur thought, smiling.

When Arthur eventually finished cooking and experimenting with pancake shapes (he had managed to morph yours into the outline of a heart and (C/n)'s into Pacman), he was the last to join the table.

Excited to take a chuck out of his consumable masterpiece, Arthur sipped on his water. But, before he could move on, the boy's words across from him, stopped him, forcing the liquid back into its glass.

Arthur damn near choked. Deep coughs emerged from his chest, and while he was repulsed by the sight of his saliva swirling with the chilled drink, it was the least of his worries with the child's words buzzing around his head.

"Does this mean you're my dad now?!"

———

Side note: I was genuinely considering putting the summary as ‘Arthur shoots people and gets laid lol’ because I couldn’t think of anything. I need help PFTT

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