#I maybe drew her too conventionally attractive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lukamoonvibe · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter Eight: Love Is Blind [Soulmates AU 2]

Chapter Index

Summary:

Medalling with time has a consequence, the consequence of his choice is to be a slave to it until Fate decides he's no fun anymore or he escapes...but does he really want to escape anymore? It's been so long, what would even be the point of going back anymore? Would anyone still remember him? Probably not. No one escapes Fate and lives to tell the tale. Not even a traveller of time.

Fandoms: Crewniverse, Crewfu/Morning Lobby, Chaos Crew/Derp Crew

Rating: Mature

Status: On Going

Silence hung in the air as he stared at her blankly, awaiting a response. Where did that come from? I-I don’t remember that. When was I in love? Who was it with? My friends? Which ones? Multiple? Why can’t I remember?

“Ant- I…do you remember who you were running from?” she let out a sigh, “Were you running from the feelings or the people themselves?”

He drew in a couple of breaths, relaxing once more, “No. I don’t know who, I don’t even remember being in love. I don’t-well maybe. But that’s stupid, I knew they were all jokes. If it’s them, then why- but anchors.” his thoughts were a blur as he tried his best to come up with an answer.

He felt a hand on his, “Slow down, one thought at a time. We’ll figure this out and then maybe you can go home. See your Tay, all your friends.”

He nodded, sitting down again, Come on Anthony, no more spiralling. Just one thought at a time. It can’t be that hard, right?

“Okay, let’s start with who. Or rather who you think it could be.”

“Well, it would have to be related to my anchors. From my memory, anchors are people you have a strong bond within your home reality. So, you’re my anchor as a friend, for sure…no offence.”

“None taken.”

“Cheesy, again close friend, but more of a brotherly bond. Often she’ll send me to you or him, as a first meeting.”

Tay nodded, “Okay, what about Ze and Platy. You mentioned them being your anchors too.”

Ze and Platy…but it was always jokes, right? When did I catch feelings? Why can’t I remember it?

“I think maybe they’re anchors due to our close friendships too. Maybe at some point, I caught feelings, but I never addressed them. I just never thought about it too much, we’d always do our bits and stuff.” he thought harder about it.

“What do you mean? You should definitely know if you liked someone or not; it’s not hard to figure out.”

He shrugged, “I’ve never really thought about anyone that way. Like sure, I can acknowledge when someone looks conventionally attractive or have an opinion on what is and isn’t attractive. But I’ve never really thought about it, you know?”

She laughed. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Anthony, you absolute fucking idiot, Shelby didn’t trap you so you’d admit to yourself you fell in love; she trapped you before you made the same mistake she did. Can’t you see that?”

“See what? I don’t get where you’re going at all with this!”

She sighed, “You are so dense sometimes, you and-” her phone cut her off.

He assumed she answered it because there was silence for a minute, “We’re busy; just ask Madi and Himi to fill. They were up for it. Yes, I know it’s not Sussy Sunday without us; you’re just gonna have to live with it. No, we’re not making out. Gross. Side if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna-” the line went dead, and she scoffed.

“Shit, are we meant to be in a lobby? Who are Himi and Madi? Wait, no, I met a Madi in the last reality. Side mentioned I’d been gone for a year, and they had new people in the lobby.” he rambled to himself, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Slow down, remember, one thought at a time.” he watched as she placed the phone on the table, “Anthony, you and Shub, you’re like two jokers of the same deck of cards. The same card, but different colours. The same role but different rules. You just need to accept it yourself because she clearly hasn’t yet, and it’s hurting those she cares about most.”

“Hmm.” he didn’t really understand what Tay was explaining. How can we be the same? I don’t understand what’s going on here.

“Ant, here, there is one reason and one reason only you’d be blinded still. By the little you’ve shared, I can very clearly see that if her trapping you was about love, you would’ve been able to see when you came in contact with Max or Ze. But you couldn’t. And that’s something you have to accept and work through.”

“I’m lost. I don’t understand what you’re saying. I understand how it works here. Meet your soulmate, get your vision, simple. They aren’t my soulmates, obviously. But I already knew that, as I already said, even if I did have feelings for them at some point, I never thought or acted on them, just let them pass. I’d never ever give up Jess for anything, I-” the realisation hit him, he averted his gaze to the table, “did. I gave up my girlfriend to travel. I’m such an idiot.”

“Excuse me; you did what now? Anthony, I was not hinting at that. You know what, you’ll figure that out by yourself. You gave up your girlfriend to travel, dude. That’s kinda fucked.”

He sighed, sitting back down, not looking at her, “I was scared.” he admitted, “Scared I wouldn’t be enough for her, that if she found out she wouldn’t love me anymore, that I would fuck up our friendship if the relationship failed. I didn’t want to lose her.”

Tay hummed, a smile gracing her lips, a look of pity in her eyes, “You always have been one to overthink everything, you dummy.”

The silence stayed between them as they got lost in their own thought patterns for a few moments.

“We should go to Speedy’s yeah, see if he remembers how to open up the doors. Now that you remember some things maybe you’ll be able to go home,” she suggested.

Chilled shrugged, “I mean it’s worth a shot. Shel seems to want to send him home bad enough, maybe she might just pull us both back to the void.”

He felt her presence next to him, she laid a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away.

“Chill, I’m not gonna do anything to you but I don’t know how well you’ll manage to get around not being used to being blind so I’m gonna guide you. My Anthony would be fine, he’s been like this since he was five, it’s second nature to him at this point. I’d like to think you don’t possess the same expertise.” Tay explained.

He chuckled, “Fair point.” he allowed her to lead him to what he assumed was her car, how the fuck did I forget I’m blind…do I really get used to these things this quickly? Have I just been fucked over in so many dimensions that my brain accepts it within hours of getting chucked here?

“What’s it like?” Tay broke the silence between them, focusing on the road.

Chilled was pulled from his thoughts, “Huh?”

“I mean, not being attracted to people. No that sounds weird now that I say it. I- nevermind. Don’t worry.”

He stared out the window, everything blurring together, “No. I can see why people would be interested to know. I can only speak for myself though. For me, it’s like, I can admit someone is attractive, to societal standards but I don’t look at someone on the street and have the ‘I’d fuck them' thought. I’m not opposed to having sex or anything, just prefer some kind of relationship to be there. Uh, the same thing goes with the thought of having a relationship, sexual or romantic. Not opposed to it, obviously, I love Jess, would do anything to go back and fix my stupid mistake, but something platonic has to be there first.”

Tay hummed in reply, “This might be an…odd question. But how would friends with benefits work for you then? Would you be comfortable with something like that?”

“No,” he replied before he’d had time to even think about it. Would he? Maybe.

“Me either honestly.”

He sighed, thankful she didn’t push the topic any further. He wondered why he was so comfortable with opening up to someone he’d met literal hours ago. Maybe because she was like his Tay, so he just felt safe to. She didn’t seem like one to tell secrets. If his Tay didn’t he had no reason to think she would either.

The rest of the car trip was spent in mutual silence until they pulled up in front of a building. He could make out the blurry outline of a decent-sized house. At least he thought it was a house. He opened the door and hopped out, waiting for Tay to show him where they were going.

“Well, you’re sure a lot less shocked than Speedy was when Side first brought him here. He was like a kid in a candy store.” Tay remarked, grabbing his hand and leading the way.

“Well, I’d imagine a big group of you guys live here so either one of you owns the place or you all pitch in for rent,” he said with a shrug.

He heard the door click and swing open and then click shut behind them again.

“Well if it isn’t the two blind lovers.”

#chaos crew #crewniverse #crewfu #derp crew #morning lobby #archive of our own #cross posted #fan fiction #time travel #dimension hopping #asexual character #plantonic soulmates #i regret nothing #aromantic character

0 notes

milqueandsugar · 3 years ago

Note

I've been on a little bit of a deep sea hyperfixation for a few days now, so how about this?

A reader who can change their appearance- think like the shapeshifting hc's a lot of people have about some characters- except that their less human form is an utterly monsterous deep-sea creature. Eyes and teeth and toxin and bioluminesence! Maybe the reader is a little self concious about it because so many people get freaked out by it? You can choose the character/characters if you like, but if you'd rather not, then maybe Ranboo! I feel like the water/ANYTHING but water dynamic would be fun jendkendnd

Thank you, have a good day!

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: mentions of violence/injury

Genre: Fluff

| Ranboo |

Ranboo isn't the most conventionally attractive person either

I mean he's like a 8ft tall enderman hybrid with green and red eyes he isn't really winning any beauty contests

Surprisingly your slightly off looks is what drew him to you, I mean multiple eyes, bioluminsecnt fins? Oh boy is he intrigued

Immediately thought you were so cool, he felt lame standing next to you, I mean you glowed!

You on the other hand was memorized by him, being a deep sea creature most things on the surface just seemed, boring

But there before you towered a black and white man in a suit and you were enthralled, do far the most interesting land creature you had ever seen

He felt like home in such an odd place

Strangely your looks brought you two together like magnets, and then you were stuck together

He often visited you at the waters edge, happy to see you in your natural habitat and appearance

You met often at night, with only the moon and a lantern he often brought to light your conversations

He kept you up on the latest news on the server, and you brought him shiny human things thst had sunk too the bottom of the ocean

He makes the same stupid joke every time you give him an offering, about him treasuring everything you give him

But you laugh every time

| Foolish |

When he found out there was another sea dweller on the server?

that man RAN

You two immediately hit it off, turns out when the God you had been raised to worship shows up to your house with a gift basket you tend to be a little extra nice

He helps you adapt to the surface life, which is something you didn't know you needed so bad until he offered

Helps you gather supplies for your home and then just ends up building something a million times better for you

He just can't help himself

Speaking in your mother tongue with him

Mostly shit talking tbh

Going on swim dates together, you bringing him to all your favorite grottos and under water caves

Foolish, as much as he wants to join you in your life in the ocean has surface world responsibilities and as much as you miss him sometimes you respect it

Your solution? Bring the ocean to him

' flower ' crowns of sea weed, sea grass and other under water plants, sea glass necklaces and rings whatever you can scrounge up you believe is good enough to gift

But let's be honest here, you could give this man a rock and he'd fall in love with it

So when you give him hand crafted jewelry? Oh this man is swooooning

Although a God he hasn't been shown incredibly kindness, so when you come into his life, helping him build, just wanting to spend time with him? He's weak in the knees

| Nihachu |

The ability to shape-shift to suit land is actually a hunting adaptation, with your looks you lure humans or animals to the waters edge where you Drown and eat them

You think after the first few times they learn but, alas it is a very effective tactic

You initially mistake niki for one of your own at first, you had never seen a human with pink hair before, truly she had to be one of your own

So you approach her with a gutted squid, a delicacy in the deep end, and a friendly gesture for when meeting other sea creatures

To your surprise your met with a shriek, and nearly getting your head cut off

Ah, so she was human, she must've been poisonous then, if there was one thing you learned about colorful land creatures is that they were usually not very good meals,

You leave your squid and return to the waters, a little hurt and not so interested in the pink haired girl anymore

Niki on the other hand was not only terrified, but very, very confused

Through asking around she had discovered what you were, and that you were sentient, she felt a tad bad about the whole thing, so sure enough, she came back to the waters edge with some sweet cakes for you

Turns out, sugar is incredibly addictive to sea creatures, and so your very odd friendships begin with her guilt for nearly beheading you, and your incredible sweet tooth.

322 notes · View notes

glassheartjukebox · 4 years ago

Text

love letters

feat. ushijima

word count: 1.3k

“listen listen to my heart

that i only wanted you to know” - love letter

a/n: no content warnings, just pure fluff ! also a reminder that reblogs really help ! thank you guys sm for reading :D

the letters started about three months ago. you hesitate to call them “love” letters. “love” letters would indicate some sort of romantic prose, frilly stationary, and sweet declarations of love. the letters you receive are decidedly more... blunt.

the notes ranged from dry compliments such as “the school uniform suits you.” to borderline offensive remarks such as “did you do something different with your face? you look less tired today.” nonetheless, they had become part of your everyday routine. a blue sticky note with messy, slightly smudged ink and a blunt message.

after a month of notes, you decided to show them to your friends. as strange as the letters were, you never discarded them. they held a special place in your heart, often making you smile from the sheer absurdity. your friends immediately hounded you for not telling them about your “secret admirer” earlier. “that’s it, we need to catch him in the act,” your best friend declared, slamming her milk carton down on the lunch table. you rolled your eyes. “i don’t see the point,” you sighed, “he’ll tell me who he is when he’s ready.” this triggered a barrage of complaints about how boring that plan was.

to be fair, you had two reasons for allowing your admirer to stay anonymous. first and foremost, the chance of him being a creep was high. you had no desire to get your hopes up, thinking that he may be your dream man. secondly, you enjoyed receiving the little notes everyday. they’d become a part of your routine, something to look forward to. so, the notes continued to come uninterrupted for three more months.

the end of the semester was approaching, and break was right on the horizon. it dawned on you that this meant the end of your daily notes, which made you a little bit sad. the one you received this morning read, “i have very important business to attend to. it might be a little bit before you hear from me again. please wait for me.” that was the most he had ever written on a single post-it note. you rolled your eyes, secretly yearning for a way to wish him well on his endeavors.

after receiving the last note, you spent two days mourning the loss. there was nothing to break up the monotony now. you found yourself thumbing through the old notes he had gifted you. the most conventionally complimentary one by far had been “i like the shape of your lips, they suit your face very well”. it was the bare minimum, but it still had you blushing.

when friday, the third day without notes, arrived you were provided with a reprieve from your routine by the school. everyone was escorted out of class to attend a pep rally for volleyball interhigh qualifiers tournament. after all, volleyball was a big deal at shiratorizawa. both the men’s and women’s team stood tall on the school auditorium stage. the captain of the women’s team gave her speech first, but you found yourself zoning out and examining the men around you. your secret admirer was likely one of the fidgeting boys near you, looking hungrily at the women’s team as if they were pieces of meat. gross.

a deep voice broke you out of your reverie. the boy’s team captain had begun his speech. ushijima “ushiwaka” wakatoshi. the entire school knew who he was. the volleyball ace that repeatedly led the team to nationals. he had even been ranked in the top three aces in japan. ushijima stood well over six foot, with broad shoulders and a permanently stoic face. truth be told, he intimidated everyone. you’d had a few interactions with him, most of which happened at the beginning of the semester. a teacher asked you to tutor him for one english test. you met for three tutoring sessions, and during each he was quiet, polite, and apologetic for taking up your time. you found him much less imposing after seeing him hunched down in a desk too small for him, focusing on past tense verb translation.

after the rally had concluded, you were forced to return to class. shiratorizawa would begin their games at the interhigh tournament roughly two hours after school let out. you decided that maybe you would attend one or two of their matches if you could convince your friends to tag along. you honestly needed to get your mind off of the notes and your secret admirer.

you and a few of your friends were walking out of the school gates, preparing to visit some shops to bide the time before the game began when it hit you. you left your history textbook sitting in your desk. your history textbook that was full of notes crucial to the test you had on monday. you froze in your tracks and your friends turned, a little confused. “i have to go back, forgot my textbook,” you squeaked before taking off back towards the school building. you were screwed if the teacher had already left for the day and locked up the classroom.

grabbing the door handle, you were relieved to find it unlocked. what you were not relieved to find was a large figure bent over your desk and rummaging through your things.

“what are you doing?” you asked quietly, still in shock. consequently, the large figured managed the bump your desk in surprise, knocking it over and spilling the contents everywhere. you rushed to help clean it up on impulse. you were only able to recognize the figure in the dark classroom once you were up close. “ushijima?” you said incredulously. this entire situation was giving you a headache. he just nodded at you. you continue to haphazardly shove the contents of your desk back in when your hand landed on a small, blue sticky note. ushijima’s hand flew out to catch it but it was too late.

“my dearest y/n, the apple of my eye, the holder of my heart, fire of my loins, the most wonderful person i have ever laid my eyes on. you looked positively beautiful today, scrumptious even. how could anyone resist your charms? i find myself falling madly, deeply in love with you everyday. sincerely, with much love, your secret admirer.” the blocky handwriting juxtaposed the flowery diction of the note. furthermore, someone had drawn little red hearts around the perimeter of the letter. this was… very different than usual.

ushijima was also very different than usual. he was quickly losing his usual composure. his face was bright red and sweat gleaned on his brow. you looked up at him awestruck and confused.

“i’m sorry for the inconvenience,” his voice cracked, “but tendou had me write this love letter after he found out i had been sending a girl notes. he drew the hearts as well. i did not realize he was joking until after i had slipped it in your desk. i came back to retrieve it before you could see it. i’m sorry again.”

you were at a loss for words. “it was you sending the notes the whole time?” you stated the obvious. ushijima simply nodded.

“but why?” you asked, still struggling to process all of this. “i found you very attractive when you tutored me. i wanted to express my affection without drawing extra attention to you or pressuring you to return my feelings. sorry again.” he stood, preparing the walk out the room. your body moved on its own as you stood as well, grabbing his wrist.

“i didn’t know it was you,” you whispered, “but i’m really glad it was.” you leaned up to kiss his cheek, causing him to flush an even deeper shade of red.

ushijima stared back at you, a rare smile adorning his features. “now go, you’re going to be late for your own tournament,” you teased, still quite bashful over the entire situation.

“before i do,” he paused and dug through his bag, “would you want to come to the match wearing this tonight?” he held out his spare volleyball jacket, adorned with his name and number.

needless to say, you accepted. in that moment, you knew you’d be attending volleyball games than you expected.

©glassheartjukebox all written content belongs to this user. do not repost, modify, or copy content

521 notes · View notes

deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

my supervisor fucked me over with all my other coworkers present. can I request a one shot from you to cheer me up featuring Sammy?

Did I give y’all the fic about the hotpot?

Well if I didn’t, I’m giving it to you now.

Title: hotpot

Summary: Ganke checks the comments for the Blindspot comic daily and there’s this one asshole anon who keeps talking shit about BT.

The Blindspot comic went live in the fall and Ganke couldn’t stop checking the hit count every five seconds. All night there had only been ten hits.

He told himself not to be disappointed. The only person who really mattered had read and loved the comic.

Miles said that BT had even forced everyone on the team to read an abridged version of Journey to the West, and had gone as far as to make a quiz to determine everyone’s character.

Miles refused to disclose who he’d gotten.

BT had clearly rigged the game to make himself Sun Wukong and Ganke was proud of him.

That kind of enthusiasm was exactly what he’d been hoping for, anything else now was just icing on the cake.

Even though it would be cool if it wasn’t just BT reading his own comics.

That would be pretty cool, right? Like. If people online all started reading BT’s comic. That would be sort of amazing.

Kind of excellent.

Definitely worthy of an A+ and double pats on the back.

Right?

The hit counter didn’t think so. But hey, five more people had opened the page since last night. That was something, wasn’t it?

MM: dude why not just ask Sam to tweet out the link?

How dare you, Miles Morales.

How dare you waltz into this place with logical thought.

GL: I can’t do that. That’s like. Idk. Inflating the views.

MM: okay yeah explain to me how appealing to the person in control of the largest part of his own fandom is inflating the views

GL: I see your logic and I’m banishing it

MM: I’m messaging him

GL: DON’T

MM: too late

MM: he says ‘gimme link’

GL: asdksjsjdks

@blindspot: hi I know y’all can’t get enough of me to the point of asking shockingly invasive questions and for you I say good news! Some amazing folks have gone through the trouble of making a Blindspot comic. it’s good guys check it out [link]

It helped.

A lot.

It helped a lot.

People, on the whole, had great things to say. The panels were screenshotted and tagged and sent all over social media and even though Miles was pretending to be chill and aloof about the whole thing, Ganke could imagine him smiling big and bright and white at his phone non-stop.

Mom and Auntie saw a few of the bits on Twitter and tittered over them in the kitchen like pigeons.

The pride rose like a wave. Ganke kept waiting for the crash.

It came two days later in the form of a comment that read ‘Christ, look at all this fuss. BT is fine. I hate his brother.’

It felt like someone punching the wind out of Ganke’s lungs.

He took comfort in the handful of people who leapt in to shout down the commenter. They emphasized that if the anonymous commenter didn’t like the story or the characters, then they didn’t have to read it and they, especially, didn’t have to say anything about it.

Ganke appreciated those guys. He got the feeling that a lot of the people on there knew that the whole thing had been done but a couple of kids.

Not that Anon cared.

Anon replied to all these comments ‘No, I’m gonna keep reading, thanks. Anyways, the brother is lame. The smart part is cool, but why’s it always gotta be a guy?’

The part that haunted Ganke even after he’d shut his laptop and had gone to stick his head out the window for some big breaths of cleansing air was that Anon was kind of right.

GL: should we have made Guotin’s brother a sister?

MM: no

GL: why not?

MM: cause BT’s always wanted a brother

Oh.

Okay. Then it was fine?

MM: yeah man ignore them. it’s chill.

GL: k thanks my ego is huge and fragile

MM: trust me I know

Asshole. Fine, moving right along.

It didn’t stop. Anon commented on every page. Every. Single. Page.

Ganke didn’t know what to do or say. On the one hand, clearly this person was dedicated and deeply engaged with the comic, on the other hand, they needed a Rude Alert button. Ganke wondered if Ned could code one for them and them only.

The latest of their fury was directed at the big reveal in the second issue—BT’s face.

Having now met Sam, BT, Blindspot, Ganke’s whole image of him had changed.

He was not conventionally attractive as far as like, K-Pop idols and famous Chinese dudes went. His eyes were puffy and narrow and his face was round everywhere but the jaw. He leaned more towards ‘cute’ than ‘sexy,’ which Ganke sort of loved about him.

He was friendly. Stressed and grumpy and feisty as hell, yeah, but first and foremost friendly.

Miles claimed that he called it his ‘number one asset in employability.’ Which was wild because hello, Blindspot.

Obviously, BT couldn’t help his face. But Miles and Ganke could help Guotin’s.

Ganke had sent Miles about fifteen different images of Chinese celebrities and had told him to do his worst. They’d reviewed the final few drafts and had picked one that was most like a young Chen Kun. His face was more oval-shaped than BT’s. His chin and lips were slimmer but more defined. He was pretty, but not so pretty as to be called ‘feminine,’ which Ganke thought was a solid compromise between ‘handsome as sin’ and ‘looks like he’s got a quirky sense of humor.’

Anon hated him.

Anon thought that he looked like an idol, and they were not here for it.

They told ‘the artist’ to give him a mole or something, anything to make him look ‘less pristine. God, I can smell him from here and he smells like Dior and staph habitat.’

Ganke had to look up what a staph infection was. He regretted it. He asked Miles if they should censor Anon.

Miles said ‘mmmmm, idk it’s not like they aren’t saying anything that isn’t true.’

Ganke resented that. Clearly this was defamation of BT. This person hated him and was taking their feeling out on the comic.

MM: I mean yeah but it’s not like they’re talking about the comic, man. They’re talking about the style and like, thinking about it, a mole or smth to help you tell him apart from other folks would kind of be helpful. Like, especially if we ever put him in a crowd, you know?

HHHHHH.

Fine.

Anon could stay. But they were on thin ice.

It was hard not to be bitter about Anon’s comments, especially when they arrived daily, as though Anon knew exactly what they were doing and which page they’d left off at. They couldn’t possibly be reading the comic one page at a time, this was intentional.

Ganke’s jaw hurt from all the tooth grinding he’d endured as of late.

This latest one read ‘yo, has BT ever mentioned fighting with a sword? I don’t recall him mentioning. Someone should take that thing away from him before someone loses an eye—or maybe even two.’

That felt like a pointed jibe.

That turned the churning irritation in Ganke’s gut into something much, much colder.

Did Anon know about BT’s black and blue eyes? How could they know? Was it a coincidence? It seemed to be more than a coincidence.

The pile of critiques was growing bigger and bigger, and now that Ganke thought about it, they all seemed to take issue with things that didn’t match the real Blindspot’s personality.

It was as if they knew him.

GL: miles did you read the new comment from AnonTheAsshole?

MM: lol yeah

GL: tell me if I’m talking out my ass or whatever but like

GL: you don’t think they could be Muse, could they?

Silence.

MM: oh no

Yeah. Fuck.

MM: chances are low.

GL: they know so much tho??

MM: might be stalker? Maybe someone who’s over-invested in BT’s social media pages?

GL: maybe.

MM: hold on let me ask Spidey to screen it

GL: does he know Muse?

MM: no, but he’s paranoid and he’ll get Wade to be paranoid with him, and then they can decide whether its worth giving to DD for verification. He knows Muse.

Ganke’s head was spinning. His fingers shook with guilt and the thought of Muse’s pale body hunched over a secret, cracked cell phone in a high security prison who knew where.

In Ganke’s head, he smiled wider and wider, until the skin on his cheeks cracked. He dug out scraps of paper and redrew Blindspot—Sam—with gaping holes for eyes and a screaming mouth and he drew dismembered corpses in black lakes and he laughed.

He just kept laughing.

MM: hey ganke

MM: it’s going to be okay. It’s just a comic. I’m sure AnonTheAsshole is a stalker. They’re not threatening anyone.

MM: Sam can deal with a stalker. And we can too, okay?

There was a reason that Miles was a hero. Ganke wiped at his eyes and swallowed.

GL: okay. Thanks for doing that.

MM: 👍🏾

It took a few hours because Spidey and Deadpool had lives outside of being Spidey and Deadpool, but not so long that Ganke ran out of nails to chew.

Miles messaged him back and said that Spidey had read through everything and ‘escalated it.’ This meant that whatever he’d seen had caused him enough concern to take it to DP.

Miles said that he’d get back to Ganke with DP’s verdict as soon as he had it. In the meantime, he’d run the comments by the other Spideypeople and they thought that it most likely wasn’t malevolent but was maybe something to keep an eye on in the meantime. He tacked onto all, somewhat stiltedly, that he had a weird feeling all of the sudden. The pink Spidey’s tone had changed. She’d shut down and gone cagey, which allegedly wasn’t like her at all. Then she’d told the taller guy to DM her and they’d vanished from the chat. Miles wasn’t sure what was going on there or if maybe they knew something about stuff going on that he didn’t, but he wasn’t super comfortable with it.

GL: crossing my fingers its nothing?

MM: same man, same.

DP escalated it.

Ganke couldn’t stay still in his room. There was no comfortable place to sit or stand or lay. There was nothing to do that would make him stop thinking about everything.

MM: It’s gonna be fine, man, DD always knows what to do.

Miles kept saying that for every step of the way, and yet here they were. Double escalated. Ganke wasn’t so sure he even knew what was happening anymore.

That was scary. Miles was supposed to be part of the in-crowd.

MM: Wade doesn’t think it’s anything that can’t be nipped in the bud.

That was easy for a contract assassin to say, wasn’t it?

MM: he says that you and I are fine. Doesn’t see any links there. Waiting on DD for confirmation of tone.

Hurry up, Daredevil. Your apprentice’s life might be about to take a nosedive into a heap of trash.

Two hours. One text.

MM: >:/

Ganke couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter.

GL: good news?

MM: [image]

He opened it.

SC: HANNAH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. STOP BEING A BITCH ON MAIN

HC: You can’t tell me what to do

SC: I CAN

HC: Mom he’s being MEAN

SC: Mom she’s scaring children online

HC: I scare children everywhere I go why are these ones special???

SC: Because I said so

HC: that doesn’t fucking work Samuel you’re not her

SC: I am your older brother

SC: your ELDEST brother

HC: YOU AINT SHIT

SC: THEY DON’T COUNT

SC: HALFSIES COUNT

What.

MM: so.

MM: she’s not Muse.

MM: Red’s laughing his ass off at all of us for taking this to a level three

GL: wait I don’t understand

MM: Hannah is Sam’s little sister. She’s found a new hobby in our website.

Blindspot’s little sister was reading the comic??? Holy shit.

GL: she hates him?

MM: no I’ve been informed that they would literally commit murder for each other but this is how they express love.

No way. Siblings were wild.

GL: so we’re good?

MM: [image]

SC: apologize 🔪

HC: eat my ass

SC: apologize or else

HC: or else what? You gonna come in here and sit on me? Huh? Huh????

SC: I know your email password. All 3 you cycle through. What was his name? Uuuuuuuuuh Jing?

HC: you fucking bastard

SC: Hi Jing, it’s me, Hannah. I’ve been in mad crush with you since sophomore year. Please notice me senpai 😖

HC: Die

SC: kill me

HC: I will.

The giggles that came this time were a mix of relief and genuine intrigue. This lady read the comic every day. She took the time to scroll through pictures of her brother being an absolute lunatic and fighting with a huge monkey. Then she hopped into that comment box and took him—not Miles, not Ganke, specifically Blindspot--down a peg.

She must miss him a lot. Ganke wondered if this was her way of keeping him in her thoughts.

MM: I don’t think we’re getting a sorry, man. DD says Sam’s been at this all morning and has been tricked into apologizing himself twice

GL: so you’re saying that she’s an evil genius

MM: idk but she’s def Sam’s main nemesis. I always thought that older siblings got like, rights or something over younger ones, but idk anymore. Angel says this is normal.

GL: do you think she misses him?

Miles took a long time to respond.

MM: yeah

Yeah, Ganke thought so, too.

GL: should we change Guo tin’s brother’s name to ‘hamish?’

MM: ASDLDSDSFKdsjf

MM: one moment.

MM: sam says yes. Hannah says that she thinks our comic is shit and we need to draw everything uglier

GL: she’s kind of funny

MM: 👀perhaps she would like to be a consultant?

GL: 👀👀👀👀

MM: brb asking

MM: sam says no. Hannah says she’s got better things to do than proofread comics on the internet. She’s also not sorry. She wants that to be clear. DD says that the conversation has moved from English to Chinese and to maybe duck and cover for now. He says all is good tho. Thanks for checking in.

MM: Muse doesn’t use punctuation and talks in riddles, so if we get any of that, we’re supposed to send it to DP right away.

Oh, nice. That was a relief.

MM: oh

MM: sam wants to put us in a chat. Can I give him your number?

Uh, only if he wanted Ganke to hyperventilate.

GL: sure

[GL has been added to a Secure Chat]

It was a page of characters and emojis that were somehow more menacing than Ganke had ever seen them before. Miles popped a little waving hand into the fray, as though testing the waters, but the characters just carried on scrawling around it.

Ganke wasn’t quite sure what to do.

GL: hi? Are y’all okay?

There was finally a pause. Then a few shorter lines of characters. And then finally, Blindspot switched from Chinese to English.

SC: yes we’re FINE. We’re GREAT. Aren’t we, sibling from hell?

HC: who’re you? Why are you in our family chat? This is a family only zone, can’t you read?

SC: God Hannah he’s Korean don’t be a dick

HC: I can’t not be I learned it from you

SC: fair but pretend in the face of company

HC: okay fine. Hello losers.

MM: adksadfadsdfldfsldf

MM: hi

GL: hi?

SC: go on

HC: UGH

HC: fine

HC: I didn’t mean to shit talk your creation. Only my brother.

SC: also a sin, we’ll get to that later

HC: no one cares about you Samuel, stop spreading lies

SC: you first. We both know this is no lie, my white dad cares about me a whole lot

HC: well we can’t all have white dads now can we

SC: don’t be jealous

MM: lol you really call Matt your white dad??

HC: who is this person and how do they know our mutual parent’s name?

SC: this is not a mutual parent situation how many times have we been through this. He’s mine. Get your own.

MM: hi! 👋🏾I’m Bitsy! Spidey no. 4

GL: I’m his friend. He draws the comic. I write it.

HC: oh. nerd children x2

HC: anyways yeah Matt is our dad

SC: ffs

MM: he’s sort of dadly ig.

HC: ?? oho

SC: mind your face. Think about your face. Think about how much you like your face.

HC: little spider, did you not hear?

SC: kay everyone out. We’re done here

MM: hear what?

HC: lol Sammy you didn’t tell them about how Matthew Mcconaughey adopted you in all ways but paperwork?

Ganke held his phone away from his face as far as it would go.

MM: …wait are you for real?

SC: no. okay out.

HC: awwww Sammy so shy now. What are you embarrassed about? It’s cute.

SC: Hannah literally shut up I’m not playing

HC: damn okay sorry

MM: can I be honest?

SC: no

MM: I’m going to be anyways: I think we all sorta knew.

SC: …

HC: right?

SC: what does that even mean?

MM: idk, it just felt right, you know? You two are always fussing at each other and red lost his shit that time you got shot. He doesn’t treat you the way he treats the rest of us and we’re his teammates. He doesn’t even treat spidey like he treats you. So like, yeah. It fits.

MM: I’m really happy for you guys.

MM: is there a reason it’s a secret?

Ganke eased himself back down onto the mattress. This was real. This was like, actual, real information. Something that he and like, four other people in the world now knew.

He kind of wanted to forget it. It didn’t feel right to know.

SC: I dunno.

HC: if sam has an honest emotion towards anything he has to calculate its weight so he can make space for it in his collection of satellites.

MM: wh

SC: you’re so not funny.

HC: it’s called emotional repression, darling. It’s all the rage in this family.

MM: oh

MM: so that’s why you and Red get on so well

SC: HHHHHHH

HC: HA

SC: okay but listen his is different, I’ve only seen him cry at his wedding. I cry at least 4 times a week. Obviously under the bed, but that can’t be emotional repression. That’s expression. That’s clearly expression

HC: I can make the old man cry watch me

SC: please don’t I’ll die

MM: awwwww

SC: shut up it doesn’t even matter.

MM: AWWWWWW

SC: LEAVE ALREADY

MM: no I like it here. I want to hear you talk about how much you love your white dad

SC: I don’t. He loves me. I’m fine with this because it results in food, shelter, and continued employment.

HC: uh huh

SC: I’m using him

HC: yeah because you’re like the most manipulative person I know.

SC: thank you

HC: /sarcasm

SC: I know I ignored it.

MM: so wait why do you actually pretend like you hate him tho?

SC: wh

SC: what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just go on up for a cuddle? Have you met Matt? The second someone starts crying, he finds trash to take out to the bins. Hell no. Life is easier for everyone if I stab him with a stick and he kicks my ass in training. It’s fine.

HC: Sam is learning how to be a Manly Man. This is step one.

SC: I’m plenty manly

HC: you’re what mom imagined as manly

SC: which is perfect. That’s all I need.

HC: mama’s boy

SC: must suck to suck, no one’s kid.

Wow. Ganke had never been more glad that he didn’t have a sister.

GL: That’s kind of cool, though.

GL: that you and DD are close like that I mean.

GL: Its different from all the other mentor/mentee superheroes we see who like, sort of hate each other.

SC: wh

SC: OH. you mean Peter and Kate. Peter doesn’t actually hate Stark, fyi. And Kate calls Hawkeye the Old bi-weekly to make sure he’s still breathing. It’s actually pretty normal.

MM: he doesn’t mean like that Sam. I mean, like those guys don’t associate with their Olds now that they’re grown up and stuff, but you and DD stick together. It’s like you’re family.

MM: and that’s super cool. Idk if Spidey would ever consider me family. I don’t think he wants that for us.

SC: I?

SC: oh shit

HC: CLARITY ON THIS FINE DAY. What was your name again, tiny spider?

MM: miles

HC: PRAISE BE TO MILES

HC: AN EMOTION WAS HAD

SC: get fucked

HC: An epiphany was obtained!

SC: would you shut up

HC: Something has finally permeated that non-porous, two-inch thick skull of my esteemed eldest brother

SC: I’m your only brother

HC: you’re not

SC: they don’t fucking count

HC: now will you FINALLY invite our mutual dad to hotpot?

SC: Hannah he doesn’t want to come to hot pot we’ve talked about this. it’s too spicy for him.

HC: I’ll make it 1/3 less spicy

SC: that’s still too spicy

HC: I’ll make it 2/5 less spicy

SC: 3/5

HC: listen

HC: I have all this fucking equipment that SOMEONE left here callously

MM: what’s hotpot?

SC: 👀

HC: 👀

GL: 👀

SC: well fuck

HC: EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

GL: have we never taken you with us for hotpot???

MM: no?? is this the sticks?

HC: can be. Where do you live?

SC: Hannah no

HC: Hannah yes. We’ll make one here. You’ll make one there.

SC: do you know how much shit I’ll have to buy? Where are we gonna put it?

HC: this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d taken your goddamn inheritance with you to SF

SC: HHHHHH

MM: you guys are actually being serious?

HC: I am. I am here all on my lonesome. Abandoned by my only kin. I require enrichment.

SC: try doing your fucking homework

HC: did anyone hear something?

MM: lololololol I like you

HC: 😊

SC: wh

SC: oh no. No no no.

SC: you two don’t get to be friends

HC: come here bb pspspspspspsps

MM: I’m here

HC: got ‘im. Let’s have hotpot. Sammy send me resippy. We’ll do it together over video so I don’t fuck it up.

SC: I’ve got to go. This has been traumatizing.

HC: byeeeeeeeeeeee

HC: is he gone? Hell yeah, he’s gone.

HC: hey thanks for making that comic thing. It’s hella rad. He loves it. Mom used to call him Monkey when he was little.

GL: omg aw

HC: ikr? P cute. He misses her a lot so I think it brought back good memories. Anyways, I’m actually going to make hotpot. Come over and have some with me, it’s more fun with more people.

MM: you’re not joking

HC: nope, it’s been ages since your whole team has gotten together, right? Ask them to do it. I’m a shit cook, but Sam’ll show us how not to screw it up. And he’s playin’, he’s totally down to hang out with us. We never had more than three people. It’ll be new. Exciting. Enriching even.

MM: are you secretly a nice person, Hannah?

HC: the fuck do you mean ‘secret’??? I’m a delight.

MM: Okay I’ll ask the team and my mom

MM: ganke?

HC: 👀

That—

Sounded kind of nice?

GL: I’ll ask my mom.

HC: nice. You can tell them that it’s a friends dinner or whatever. Idc. I promise I’m not going to kidnap and murder you. I’ve got like, class and work and shit. I don’t have time for that.

MM: 👍🏾

GL: 👍🏼

HC: great here I’ll message you my number. This is legit our sibs chat so Sam’ll freak if you’re still here when he gets back.

MM: thank you! And sorry for thinking you were muse!!

GL: yeah that too

HC: lol np ttyl

That…had really just happened, hadn’t it?

Ganke needed to sit down even though he was already sitting down.

GL: they’re so nice???

MM: ikr?

GL: are you actually going to ask your mom?

MM: Im gonna ask BT if its cool first. Then yeah. Why not? Our team really hasn’t gotten together in a minute. Everyone’s been super busy. It would be a nice change of pace, and if everyone brings smth then Hannah doesn’t have to pay for anything.

MM: ah, Sam says it’s okay. He says sorry his sister is weird and that he’ll make sure she doesn’t poison us.

GL: I kind of love her

MM: same

MM: okay will check in with the others. Talk to you later.

GL: yeah see you later

Damn, at this rate, Ganke’s family was going to triple in size, and all thanks to a comic.

Before he left for downstairs, he made a note to make Guo tin’s brother snarkier.

#fic #inimitable verse #blindspot #samuel chung #miles morales #ganke lee

190 notes · View notes

bitchysongcomputer · 2 years ago

Text

My Second Husband by BearTrainer

From BeefyFrat Library, before it disappears.

When people ask how Max and I ended up together and I tell them the story, I don’t know why I always get the same response. "No way! You’re making that up." I guess folks can’t believe that guys like us really exist, although all they’d really have to do is take one look at Max for proof that we do. Or maybe they were the way I was once—believing what they are told they should think is attractive, instead of going with their gut (no pun intended) about what really turns their crank. But our story is true, and this is how it happened. I had been with Larry since grad school, and he was conventionally beautiful in that very All-American kind of way you see in every magazine—a naturally athletic physique honed to complete perfection at the gym and through long-distance cycling, short cropped dark blonde hair over arresting blue eyes. He had had a wild past before I met him—"I was a slut," he said to me when we first got together, half-proud of it—and at the time, in my younger days, I thought he was a catch. And, frankly by any one’s standards, including mine, he was—he had graduated first in his law school class at Boalt, scored a great job in the state Attorney General’s office, moving up the ranks until he was pulling down an incredible salary, but best of all, he was very much in love with me. His devotion allowed me to do what I needed to do to get my own art consulting business off the ground, and together we had a great life. Big house, long vacations, hot sex life—the works. The end of all this came suddenly and unexpectedly one night in the form of a phone call, and it took me every bit of a year to truly grasp that Larry had been killed. Of all my many friends who helped me through this nightmare, my friend Linda was the best, and though I hardly left the house for a year afterward, she faithfully visited me, talked me through everything that needed to be done, and never failed to try to gently but firmly pull me back into life. Thus, it was she who suggested when the enormous check from Larry’s life insurance came that I consider buying the half-acre lot behind the house, which had been on the market for years and had not yet been sold. "Face it, Bob. You better start putting all this into some kind of investments, otherwise it’s all going to be gone before you know it. And besides, Larry’d want it that way, wouldn’t he?" "But what am I going to do with all that land?" She laughed. "Plant a garden." "Garden?" Now it was my turn to laugh. "I could plant a farm on that much land." "So plant a farm!" "Right. Me, Mr. Outdoors." "Sweetie, you don’t get it. You design it, you’d love doing that, wouldn’t you, and then you hire people to do it for you. I’m sure the owner’d close in a second, especially for all-cash. He hasn’t been able to move that thing in a month of Sundays." I had to admit, she was right. I happened to know that really I was the only one who’d want this parcel, as an extension of my already large backyard, since it was too small really to interest any developers or builders, and, frankly, the idea of a largem, beautiful garden did sound like something I’d enjoy. Plus the symbol of planting a garden to memorialize Larry made me feel good. "But Christ, Linda, the lot’s a mess. It’d take forever to clear." "You aren’t clearing it. You hire people. Must I repeat myself?" Well, indeed, Linda was right on all counts. The sale closed in two weeks, the owner was thrilled to get the money for his own retirement, and after surveying the bramble-covered ground, the misshapen, unpruned fig trees, and overgrown roses, I drew up a few plans for a series of raised beds, a patio of bricks, and an arbor that I could see from our—now my—deck and hot tub in the back. "So now what?" I asked her pointedly one day over lunch at her house. "Who am I going to get to come in and do the grunt work?" She looked over her cup of coffee. "Same guy I use. Max." "Max?" She flipped her hair absentmindedly. "A little bit of a Sad Sack, especially now. Guess his wife ran off on him with some hunk, so he really needs the work. But he’s a workhorse all right. Not your type at all. You know, all dark, hairy and Italian." she kidded me, "Built like a brick chickenhouse, but he’s probably put on a good 30 or 40 pounds since the separation, getting really fat. He’s perfect for things like this—tough work, steady job, not much talk involved. I pay him $10 an hour around here and he puts in 10 and 12 hour days for me when I need him to—you know, taking stuff to the dump, stacking firewood. Call him. He’ll bust his ass for you, promise." No one knew my secret, of course, then, least of all Linda—the secret that just the mere description of Max gave me an instant hard-on, that I had spent my whole life fantasizing about guys like that, that I would go out of my way to hang out around construction sites and workcrews hoping to spot some big overfed bruiser. I’d even tried many times to see if I could get Larry to start to plump up a little, serving him seconds or trying to get him to eat late or drink a few more beers, but he was both both vain about his looks and had the metabolism of a athlete, and the few times after long vacations in Europe he had come home wearing an extra ten or so pounds on his belly, it quickly melted away. So I had long contented myself to stealing glances at chunks around town and occasionally, surreptitiously, I would peek through magazines at the newsracks, storing up pictures in my head for later when I’d imagine these huge, soft, indulgent fat men, making love to me, letting me feed them, reveling in their bodies. I thought at the time that I was the only one who had such fantasies, looking at all the pretty boys and muscle hunks in all the magazines and instead of getting off on them, imagining instead that they were slowly letting themselves go, getting all big and sloppy, turning into real men from the little twinkies everyone else seemed to like. Thus, contrary to Linda’s comments, the idea of hiring Max sounded like the best part of the whole plan yet. When he showed up that Monday, Max was indeed a dream come true. A squat 5’9" or so and an easy 250, he shook my hand with his own rough, thick paw and mumbled a sort of shy , "Hey there." I could see what Linda had said about the weight gain, because he was wearing a pair of denim shorts at least 3 sizes to small still, slung low on his hips, just above his ass, accentuating a belly that bounced firmly beneath his orange sleeveless T-shirt. As he stood in front of me, legs spread wide, shifting his weight from side to side, every part of him was thick, it seemed to me—heavy lids, broad nose, fleshy lips, a pair of Popeye size forearms with a coat of sparse fur, burly chest gone round and jiggly with the extra poundage, bulging biceps and calves that quivered with flesh as he walked with me around the back so I could show him what I wanted him to do. He looked a bit beaten down by life, that was true, his dark eyes big and sad, but then again it was 7:30 a.m. and that might have just been because of the early hour. Even if it was only April, it was better to start early on yardwork before the Sacramento heat kicked in around noon. About to leave him to the bramble bushes, wheelbarrow and shears, I asked casually, "Hey, want some coffee?" thinking this would be perhaps my first test of him. He smiled a little, surveying the yard he was going to be clearing for me. "Yeah, sure." "Say, you hungry at all? I made some muffins." From under his bushy eyebrows, he looked at me and smiled even more broadly. "I was born hungry." Then he rubbed his belly with a sheepish expression, "Lately, especially." "Yeah, Linda told me." "About my situation, you mean?" He looked away, still rubbing himself and gulping a bit. "Yeah. So don’t worry, Max. I got plenty of work for you here." "Cool. I could use the work. Can’t believe she’s taking me for what she’s taking me for. And she left me." "Sounds tough. But forget it about for now. You got your work cut out for you with this lot, believe me. Let me get you your stuff." Hands practically trembling with excitement, I brought him a whole tray and put it on the patio table in the shade nearby—8 or 9 fresh hot blueberry muffins piled high, a big dish of butter and cream cheese, a pot of coffee, with cream and sugar, and he gave me a grateful wave from back by the fence before I went back in. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I spent that entire morning playing with myself as I stood there peeking through the blinds in the back bedroom at him, while he worked. Not knowing I was looking of course, he was completely unself-conscious about his body, shirt riding up constantly over that hairy gut of his with the deep navel, the girth of it amazing to me at any angle—squeezed over his thighs as he bent down, jutting out like a prow when he reached up, gorgeous lovehandles with tiny scratches from the stickerbushes pouched up over the sides. His soft tits would sway deliciously in the tight T-shirt when he’d lean over to pull out some of the weeds and depending on where he was, the shorts he was wearing but had outgrown would then ride down and give me a very arousing view of the crack of his ass. Being essentially a muscular guy under all the newfat he was sporting, his buttcheeks were enormous and firm, sticking out in a way that made me breathless with desire as I watched him. He polished off the muffins and coffee throughout the morning, waddling up to the deck and giving me a great view on his way, strutting on back to his wheelbarrow, arms swinging wide at the side, the way fat men walk when they mean business. I tried to keep myself from shooting as he would pop a whole muffin in his face, washing it down with a big gulp of coffee, his cheeks bloated like a greedy bear feeding for wintertime, half-moons of sweat darkening the shirt under his mantits, and the only thing that kept me from losing it was my own wish to make the pleasure last as long as possible. He was, indeed, a fantasy come true for me, and I realized that it was going to be up to me to make the best of it. Around about noon, I saw Max lumbering toward the house, shirt now wringing wet and clinging to him everywhere, every roll, curve and fold, rivulets of sweat clearly glistening in that furry armpit of his. I scrambled to meet him outside the kitchen door. "Taking a break?" I asked. "You been working hard, I see." Most of the back by the fence was now clear and a high pile of debris was visible on the side. "Yup. Gotta get some lunch." He was huffing and puffing a bit, continuing to flash his pits at me as he wiped off his forehad with his hand. "But, man, those muffins were great." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks." I stopped him, as he turned to go. "Hey, Max, wait. I’ll make lunch." He looked back at me and, without thinking, I’m sure, licked his lips, just the idea of food eliciting an automatic response. "Nah, I couldn’t let you. . . . I’ll just go to McDonald’s." "Don’t worry about it. I got to make lunch for myself. And besides, you don’t have anyone cooking for you anymore, do you?" He raised an eyebrow and made a face. "Nope. Actually, I don’t know I’ve gained the 50 I’ve put on since she dumped me, man. But I guess it’s all the junk food I’ve been eating." "Then tell you what, you sit down on the patio, I’ll bring you some lemonade, and how’s about a nice Italian meal. You like carbonara?" His eyes lit up. "I haven’t had that in a long time. You make that?" "Listen, man. You got a long afternoon ahead. It’s the least I could do. Don’t want you falling down in a dead faint from hunger." He laughed and his whole belly shook. "Falling away to a ton, more like it. If you’re sure it ain’t a problem. . . ." He was stroking the bottom of his gut like he was greeting an old friend, and I swear I heard his stomach growl. Yes, indeed, he was a live one, all right, that I could see. Just the mention of a home-cooked meal, and this guy was drooling. After putting the water on to boil, I came back with the frosty pitcher of lemonade I had promised him and suddenly the shoe was on the other and it was I who was drooling. Max had taken off his shirt and was laying back in my lounge chair, wiping his chest off with the T-shirt, his gut rising and falling slowly in the sun. Hearing me come, he sat up and started to apologize. I raised my hand and poured him a tall glass. "Relax. I’ll be cracking the whip this afternoon, big guy. Right now, take your break and get a tan." He slapped his belly. "Lot to tan, these days." "You’ve put on 50 pounds?" I asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact when I could barely keep my voice from quivering from excitement. "Doesn’t look it." "Well, to me it does. I mean, I"ve always been big, but after she left me, I figured, what the fuck. I was always worried about my weight before, with her, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. You know, I was working out all the time, trying to stay tight. So now, baby," he rolled his gut back and forth in his big paws, clearly loving it, "What you see is what you get." "Looks like that’s kind of you, if you know what I mean." "Yup, that’s the way I figure it, too. Big wop peasant, that’s me. You either like or you don’t." I’ll like it, I’ll like it already, I thought to myself on my way back to the kitchen. Making enough spaghetti for ten, stirring the eggs, cheese and bacon, along with a healthy pan of grease into it with a few deft strokes, until it all smoothed out into that sauce everyone raves about, but which is the simplest thing in the world to put together, I tossed a loaf of crusty bread and a plateful of cream cheese cookies on the tray and brought it out to him. He ate like a man just let out of prison, and I tried to pick politely at my own plate of spaghetti across from him at our glass-top patio table but found myself almost completely unable to stop staring as he shoveled in forkful after forkful. He’d wind such large bales of spaghetti on his fork that he had to strain to get it in his unshaven mouth, dumping down whole glasses of lemonade between bites and tearing off hunks of bread to sop up the sauce, ravenous, unapologetic and just unbearably sexy. After about 3 plates heaped high of my handiwork, he leaned back, stomach swollen and shiny in the bright sun and let out a discreet burp. "You don’t know how good it is to have a homemade meal." "I can see,"I said, trying not to sound judgmental. "I know I’m making a pig out of myself, but it’s been a long time since I had this kind of food. Reminds me of Mom. My own old lady was a shitty cook." "Plus you’ve been busting ass all morning. You should eat." He licked his lips and ran his tongue around his teeth. "That, too. I like this kind of work, though. It’s what I’m made for. You know, just a real physical guy." "Works for me. I could use someone like you around the house." He poked his chin out at the pile of cookies. "Homemade, too?" I nodded, "Cream cheese, lemon, poppyseed." "You’re going to think I’m a hog, ain’t you, eating all your food." I waved my hand. "Hey, Max. First of all, you’re working hard. Second of all, you’re a big guy. Third of all, I made it for you to eat. And fourth of all, I’d be insulted if you didn’t like it." Max laughed. "Man! I could use someone like you around the house," and away he dove into the mountain of cookies. My head was swimming as I excused myself to go into the house on some pretext, and creeping into the bedroom again, my hands furiously rubbing my swollen crotch, my dick as wringing wet from precum as Max’s shirt, I debated with myself about whether or not to take a peek at him again. It felt sort of sleazy but the whole morning was so incredibly hot that my lust got the better of me and over I went to the window. Practically bursting to cum anyway, I found itt took only a glance at what Max was doing on the patio and there I was shooting load after load of jism right into my own shorts: there he was, not knowing anyone was looking, grabbing long thick ropes of spaghetti right out of the pot and feeding them to himself with his hands, head tilted back, greedy mouth open wide to the world, as cheese, egg and bacon grease dripped onto his cheeks and tits. He was a hog, all right, a huge dark working-class hog. That was the moment I was determined to make him mine. It felt idiotic, of course, and I didn’t dare breathe a word of it to my friend Linda or anyone else—here I was trying to seduce some fat straight Italian guy by feeding him silly—and for the longest time that month I thought all my troubles in the past year had really knocked me off my rocker. But, you know what, I didn’t care. I was completely getting off on it and had enough discretion and self-control to take my time and not tip Max off to what was going on in my feverish little head. Who knew where it would lead? But as far as I was concerned, I was sure as hell going to give it my best shot. It wasn’t hard to condition the big guy to show up at seven-thirty sharp every morning—not after a week of just happening to make stacks and stacks of fresh walnut waffles with honey cream and strawberries, or a few dozen pancakes drippng with butter and syrup. A couple of good hearty breakfasts like that on his way out to the backyard for work, and Max was the soul of promptness from then on. Unfailingly polite about it, always asking, "You sure you aren’t going to all this trouble for me?" even as he tucked away a few more slices of poundcake or another round of apricot danish, he’d lounge a little bit longer and longer every day before hoisting his bulk up from my kitchen chair, dumping another wallop of half-and-half into his coffee and making his way out back. "A man’s gotta eat, Max. Besides, I feel it’s the best way to get my money’s worth out of you." He caught the joke and smiled. "If this is how you want me to work, Bobby, I’m game," thumping his big old labonza with his two fists, like Tarzan. Mid-morning snacks were always cookies—I tried practically every cookie in Joy of Cooking that month and learned quickly to triple the recipe—and even with an enormous breakfast under his belt and enough treats to feed a kindergarten class twice over, my big guy always managed to have room for the abundant Italian dinners I served for mid-day meal—veal parmigiana turned out to be one of his particular favorites, along with lasagne and tortellini in cream sauce. I was amazed at the gusto with which he could put away anything I put before him, along with a few pitchers of iced tea, and at least a loaf of bread, and figuring it was in my interest to make him completely comfortable in my home, I’d encourage him after such mammoth meals to stretch out on the lounge chair and take a nap. "That’s what they do in Italy, you know. Big meal, take their time, go for a siesta," I told him, as he settled in, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes, huge thighs spread wide. "They do, huh? I never been. You?" "Oh yeah, I’ve been a few times, on vacation." "Heh, heh. Guess that’s where you learned to make all this great shit, huh?" I loved his habit of rubbing his belly. "You going this year?" "Italy, nah," I said, cleaning up the dishes. "Too much to do around here." "I hear you," he said softly, drifting off to sleep. That’s when I’d have my own fun, listening to him snore, watching his big gut rise and fall in the sun, trying to decide whether his pecs were getting rounder and fuller, his nipples bigger and more prominent, his navel deeper and more inviting, or whether it was all in my perverse imagination. Since he was on a gaining upswing anyway, it wasn’t long before the effect of my abundant meals started to show, and after about a month I could see new folds of flesh gathering up at his waist, another double chin appearing, his lips looking smaller and redder as his face got chubbier, and I knew this wasn’t my imagination. More than a little conflicted about what I was doing, I nevertheless found myself in a state of high erotic tension, jerking off sometimes as much as 5 or 6 times a day, and sometimes even 2 or 3 times in a row during his siesta in which his huge overfed body, that blimping body I was feeding, was sprawled out before me. And yet, there was no clue, not even a hint of erotic response on his part. Like every straight man I had ever known, he seemed perfectly happy to take whatever he could and eat it up. Indeed, if anything, he spoke as if he were my son, telling me constantly things like, "You sure you haven’t been talking to my mom?" whenever I’d make something he really loved, or "You’re babying me, Bobby. Don’t. Stop. Don’t stop," like when I would be spooning out ice cream for him or dishing up a rice pudding. Making excellent progress on the yard, by the end of the month the whole thing was cleared, the trenches had been dug for the raised beds, and really all that was left was for us to go to the nursery and get the planting mix and for me to pick out what it was I wanted to plant. I decided to use the occasion to push my relationship with Max to the next level, if possible. Since I had to go with him to the nursery in his truck, to pick out the plants, on the way, I said casually, "Say, Max, how about we do this? You been working so hard on the garden with me, let’s say you pick out what you want to plant and then you can have half of what I grow." He raised his eyebrows. "And like what am I going to do with it? It’s not like I cook or anything." "Well, I just. . . you know. . . . I feel bad. You’ve built the garden for me, really from scratch, and it’s beautiful. I just want to say thanks, you know." He smiled his crooked little shy smile. "Shit, man, you been paying me. It’s not like you owe me anything. More like the other way around." "What do you mean?" He pouched his lips. "You know what I mean. You treat me like a fucking king. You feed me better than any of my girlfriends, even almost better than my mom, for Christ’s sakes, which is something. Don’t tell I said that. So you don’t owe me nothing, really." "But you know what I’m saying, Max. It’s your work. You should have a piece of it." He thought a bit, reaching around his belly that was practically touching the steering wheel, in order to pull in the nursery lot. "Tell you what, Bob. Let’s do that. It’ll be our garden. That’s cool." And then suddenly, completely unexpectedly, he threw an arm around me in the car and gave a hug. "You been a good friend, Bobby. I really appreciate it." Well, for better or worse, I took all that as a sign of tremendous progress and figured that I just better strike while the iron was hot. Helping him heave the 50 or so sacks of dirt on the back of the truck, and loading both of us up with enough tomoto, zucchini, bean, basil and pepper seedlings for a small village, he pulled the truck into the back yard where the frames for the raised planters lay empty and waiting, and that afternoon, we worked side by side, me tossing the sacks down to him, him ripping them open with his bare hands and dumping them into the beds. It was hot and dirty work and both of us, stripped down to the waist and covered in smelly planting mix, said nothing most of the afternoon. He looked so fine that day, strong and active, tipping the scales at nearly 300 after the weeks of feeding, a big mountain of man, working hard, eating big, sweating like an animal. He helped me down from the back of the truck with a hand and I made him help me decide where to put all the plants we had bought. "Damn, Bob. Look at you," he exclaimed by the end of it all, as I stood watering the boxes with the sprinkler hose. "Sunburned within an inch of your life." "So I am." Actually, I was really just a little red but an idea popped into my head when he said that. "I should probably clean up. What you want for dinner?" I handed him the hose. "Oh, I can’t stay for dinner. Thanks, though." "What do you mean, you can’t stay. You got plans?" He drew his mouth together and looked off. "No, no plans. I never got any plans. It’s just that. . . . Well, I don’t want to impose." I took the liberty of putting my arm around his big shoulders and said in as intimate a way I could, "Not an imposition. Besides, you’re my partner in the garden now. I want you, too." He looked at me sideways, a little uncertain, but not unpleased and broke into a big smile. "That’s right. Half of us this shit’s mine. Don’t forget it." "So let’s do this. I’ll clean up and start dinner. You go take a shower and I’ll call you when I’m ready." "Sounds good, bud." He continued to sprinkle, not looking at me. I amazed myself at how quickly I showered and pulled together a dinner of epic proportions, garlic toasts topped with mozzarella and fresh tomatoes, a first course of linguini with homemade pesto, a second course of pan friend chicken in mushroom cream sauce, with scalopped potatoes and creamed spinach to accompany it, and of course, my own personal specialty, tiramisu for dessert—sponge cake layered with sweet Italian cream, chocolate and cocoa. Hoping things would go as I planned, I kept my eye on the big guy in the back and when I saw him coming toward the house, I met him at the sliding glass door in the back and handed him a couple of huge bath towels. "You know where the bath is, right? Take your time. I’m probably going to be in the tub. Best thing for a sunburn." He sniffed the air, smelling the garlic, the mushrooms the chocolate and he sighed. "I could get used to this," and off he waddled into the bathroom, hairy back still smelling of earth and sweat. That half-hour by myself in the hot tub waiting for him to re-emerge was the longest of my life, because I knew it all would be decided there and then. If he came out and joined me, we were home free. If not, then all my work had been in vain, I had been a fool to think he could be brought to my side of the fence, and I was going to come away from this month with nothing but increased culinary expertise and a lifetime of gainerboy fantasies. He looked like heaven on earth with that big towel wrapped around him, black hair all matted and wet from the shower, belly hanging out, as he waddled onto the deck and stood above me. "You’re not going to believe this, Bob." I looked up at him, all of him, standing like a colossus above me. "What?" "I weighed myself on your scale." I tried to act nonchalant, my arms spread on either side of me. "And? You 300 yet?" He started a bit. "Nooo. Just under. 297." "Then I guess I got some more work to do, huh?" He looked at me and I looked at him, both of us raising our eyebrows in unison and with one fell swoop, he removed his towel and started to laugh. The water spilled out over the tub as he climbed in and came over to my side, pinning me against the tub with his bulk. "Hey, man, I didn’t go to grad school, but I knew what you were up to, boy. You think I didn’t know." I felt so small against him, my whole body surrounded by his warmth and his strength, his stomach and arms holding me motionless, his beautiful lips inches away from mine. "I didn’t know if you knew." I could feel my hard-on jutting between his soft thighs and then felt his, pinned between his gut and my abs. "Tell you a secret. . . ." he said, almost whispering, flirtatiously. "What’s that?" "Linda didn’t tell you?" I drew back and looked at him quizzically. "Tell me what?" "Why my old lady left?" It didn’t take me long to scout out what he was saying to me, just by looking into those eyes of his, gleaming with mirth. "Oh, I see. So that’s what happened." He started stroking my neck with his blunt rough fingers. "Yeah, she found out, and man, I got so depressed, I decided, what the fuck, I’d just eat myself into oblivion. Who would have thought?" I started to moan. "Max, who would have thought?" "I mean, if I hadn’t gotten as fat as I had. . . ." I closed my eyes and kissed him, "You wouldn’t have me, would you?" "I saw you, baby, that first day and I thought, ‘So what’s that fox going to want with some fat guy like me.’ That is until you started fattening me up, then I knew." "You knew the whole time?" He nuzzled my neck and murmured, "Why do you think I’ve been eating like this? I thought it was the only way I was going to get you." "And here I was thinking I was being so clever." "Hey, I’m not as dumb as I look. Besides. . . ." He hesitated, beginning to rub his gut up and down and caress my cock with his thighs underwater. "You need to get new Venetian blinds. The ones you got are noisy." I opened my eyes wide and tried to push him away in mock offense. "No way. You knew! You little shit!" "Heh, heh. Thought you’d like the show. And turns out you did." Stunned, I took a deep breath and ran my hands around his girth, slowly feeling the yielding flesh of his waist and taking a large nipple into my mouth just above the surface of the bubbling water. "I ain’t done with you yet bubba. You’re still a little on the thin side for me." His face grew serious and with a quick deft movement, he spread my legs, opened me up with his fingers and gently sat my ass down on his cock. I grunted with pleasure. "And I ain’t done with you." He began to fuck me, using the rhythm of the water to thrust deep and gentle at the same time. "So tell your big husband what’s for dinner?" I moaned even more loudly, hanging on to him around the neck, feeling his soft hairy tits against my chest, closing my eyes and letting him take me "Everything you love, Max. Just for you. Linguine and pesto." He thrust harder. "Chicken and mushrooms." Another quick deep thrust that made me moan. "Scalopped potatoes." He picked up the pace, panting, "I love scalopped potatoes. Creamed spinach?" he asked, punctuating it with yet another thrust inside me. I could barely speak, Max rutting away in me, feeling him take me. "You gonna make me fat, huh? Bobby? You gonna make me fat?" I was laughing, crying and moaning all at the same time, so stimulated I didn’t even know where I was. He was my whole world right then. "Tiramisu, Max. I made you tiramisu." His mouth and hands were all over me, slick and insistent and both of us got closer and closer, the water sloshing like a tidal wave out of the tub and splashing onto the deck. "I’m going to get huge, Bobby. Fucking huge. And you’re going to make me that way. I want to eat everything. I want to eat you." And then as he started to come inside me, his voice narrowed to a whine, "I love being fat for you, Bob. I love being fat. I love being fat. I love being fat." And holding on to him in an enormous bearhug of my own, I buried my face in all the warm sweet soft flesh of his chest and answered him, as I humped my own load out against his stomach. "I want you, Max. I want you huge. The more there is, the more I want. Get fat for me. Please, get fat for me. Get fat. Get fat." That was seven years ago, and little did we know at the time that each of us were exchanged a wedding vow of sorts, a commitment to a relationship. Max has continued to grow for me, not quite at the pace of that first month, but for a 425 pound man, he looks mighty fine: staying active, working out and chowing down at every possible opportunity makes him look awesome—undeniably fat, with a gargantuan belly and legs bigger than my waist, but moving with all the slow grace of a beautiful strong man. And of course, I couldn’t be happier, enjoying every square inch of him and proud that every pound of him comes from my hand and is given to me every night. As unlikely a couple as we are, people unfailingly ask us how we got together, and when I tell them this story, they try to be polite but I can tell they think I’m bullshitting them. But that’s the truth and that’s how it happened. Maybe I should just make Max come out and demonstrated how easy it is for him to eat a pans of lasagne or one of those whole Boston cream pies he likes so much the way you or I pop down a candy bar. Maybe then they’d believe me when I tell them that my second husband is, indeed, one in a million.

3 notes · View notes

megaera-of-pigeon · 3 years ago

Text

[Shining Nikki fan fiction, 3,447 words, superhero au concept courtesy of @deadcereus. Janus content courtesy of @just-love-nikki-things]

Mercury stood outside of the door. In one arm, he was carrying a duffle bag stuffed so full it was straining at its zipper. In the other, he held a top-of-the-line luxury cat carrier. As he brought a fist up to knock on the door, he glanced down into the cat-carrier and caught the glowing golden topazes that were his cat’s eyes looking up at him.

He bit his lip and slowly lowered his fist. Was he really ready to do this?

It was much too soon, wasn’t it?

Did he really need to go to this conference?

Before he could manage to second guess his decision and get out of the building before he was spotted, the door flew open.

“Mercury! You’re late! That’s unlike you.”

Mercury managed to tear his eyes away from Janus’ and meet the gaze of his younger half-sister. “Ophelia,” he nodded to her, banishing any trace of worry and allowing his face to settle into its comfortable frown. “Traffic was backed up.”

“Oh, no! The morning you’re to leave on your big exciting trip, too! Well, come on in; I’m all ready to see my pretty little nephew Janny-poo!”

Mercury bristled as he stepped into the apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. “I’ve told you not to call him that.”

Ophelia just grinned. “He likes it, though! Don’t you, Janny-poo?”

The cat in question, who’d been calmly sitting in his carrier for most of the journey like the well-behaved little gentleman he was, had perked up at the sound of Ophelia’s voice, and now started to claw at the fabric and meow in indignation. Mercury heaved a sigh and knelt down so that he could set the carrier on the floor and unzip the door. The second there was enough space open for Janus to get out, he scrambled his way out of confinement and dashed across the floor to jump into Ophelia’s waiting arms.

“Oh, I’ve missed you too, my little angel!” Ophelia cooed as she cuddled his cat into her chest and stroked his head. For his part, Janus seemed to return her greeting with a loud, rumbling purr. Mercury did his best to stamp down his jealousy at how openly affectionate his cat was acting towards his sister. It was just a fact of life that everyone loved Ophelia—animals, small children, all of their relatives. She couldn’t walk down the block without finding something or someone to befriend. It was her naivete that held the effortless charm that drew everyone in, and he’d long outgrown his envy of that particular characteristic. He had honed his own brand of ‘charm’ that served him just as well, after all.

As Mercury stood up and slid Janus’ bag off his shoulder, he happened to notice that unlike the last time he’d visited Ophelia’s apartment, there were about a dozen pairs of shoes sitting next to the front door. Several of them appeared to be thin, strappy heels, which didn't suit his sister’s style. He furrowed his brow and glanced around, and noticed some other things that had escaped his notice before: two coats hanging on the hooks; two purses sitting on the table. That was twice as many as one young woman needed.

“Is there someone else here?” He asked, gesturing towards the purses. She’d have told him if there was a girlfriend in the picture, and his sister didn’t strike him as the type to do a one night stand, so he was having trouble coming up with a logical explanation….

Ophelia’s shoulder tensed as she leaned down and released Janus, who strutted off to begin his inspection of the apartment. When she stood back up, her face had gone blank.

“Uh, yes. There is. Didn’t I mention? I have a roommate now. She moved in two weeks ago.”

Mercury gaped at her. “A roommate?” He’d never have agreed to leave Janus in an apartment with a stranger! He’d have at least had a background check done at first! “Please tell me one of your friends from London moved here and needed a place to stay, or something like that, and that you didn’t invite a random person to come live with you!”

Ophelia tucked some of her hair behind her ear and glanced at the floor. “Um. Well. I put up some flyers…”

Mercury took a deep breath and then exhaled as slowly as he could, but when he finally spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “Where did you put them up? How many were there? And what personal information were you publicly advertising?”

“I put up maybe half a dozen here and there… you know, the coffee shops down by the college, the student center, places like that. I just had my first name and phone number, not my address! They had to call for that—”

“You’re getting a new phone number,” he said firmly, glaring at her. “God, Ophelia, how could you be so foolish? Do you even know what types of dangerous people lurk in this town? For all you know, this ‘roommate’ of yours is one of them!”

“Calm down, Ashley is fine. And I’m not changing my phone number, that’s such a hassle!”

“We can talk about it later,” Mercury said firmly, although he was already planning on instructing his assistant to take care of changing his sister’s number once he made it to the airport. “Tell me why you decided to get a roommate in the first place. We never discussed this as an option when you were moving here.”

Ophelia shrugged, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I’ve been struggling to make the rent on this place with my budget. I can’t move to a cheaper part of town, because if my mum comes to visit and my living situation is not up to her standards, I’d never hear the end of it! You know how she is, she’d have me moving back to London before I could even defend my choices!”

“If you need money, you are to come to me,” he said sternly. “Taking care of your rent would be nothing to me, but instead you neglect to tell me there’s an issue and decide to invite a stranger off the street into your home? How irresponsible can you get!”

Ophelia scoffed. “You’re right, it would have been nothing to you. What about for me? I can’t come running to my brother to fix every little problem I have for the rest of my life, now can I? I’m an adult, I need to find my own solutions to things. That’s being responsible. The solution to making rent on this ridiculously huge apartment that you found for me is to split the burden with a roommate!”

Mercury opened his mouth to continue berating Ophelia for her ridiculous views on something as trivial as asking for his help, but before he could, his watch beeped, notifying him that he was running out of time to get going and make his flight. Despite his personal, feline-related reluctance to leave the city right now, this conference was one he couldn’t afford to miss. He’d have to deal with Ophelia’s roommate situation when he got back… although there was one thing that had to happen. “Where is this ‘Ashley’? I need to meet her before I leave Janus here.”

“Is that really necessary—?”

“The other solution is for you to go pack a bag right now, and go stay with Janus at my house for the week. I am not leaving my cat in the hands of someone I’ve never met!”

Ophelia glared back at him for a long minute, before finally sighing and looking over her shoulder. “Hey, Ashley,” she called. “Can you come here?”

A moment later, light footsteps sounded down the hall as the mysterious roommate approached. “What do you need now? Is your brother gone yet?”

The owner of the voice turned out to be a slender young woman with long, dark hair, and large, bright blue eyes. With her high cheekbones, symmetrical facial features, and full, red-tinted lips, she’d be considered conventionally attractive in most people’s estimation—but most people were incapable of looking past a surface appearance and judging what truly lurked beneath. And Mercury happened to know first hand that this woman’s angelic beauty was all a lie; she was none other than Lilith, a master manipulator and a scourge he’d thought he banished from his city long ago.

For her part, Lilith looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Her eyes grew wide as she glanced between Mercury and Ophelia, and Mercury could almost see the wheels turning in her scheming little brain. After a moment though, her neutral mask fell back into place and she stuck out her hand. “You must be the big brother I’ve heard far too little about. I’m Ashley; I moved in with Ophelia not too long ago.”

“Ashley?” He tried a smile, so as not to make Ophelia suspicious of any prior involvement with her new ‘roommate’, but he couldn’t stop it from turning into a sneer as he shook her hand, squeezing more firmly than was strictly necessary. “And what brings you here?”

A sneer of her own pulled at Lilith’s lips as she returned his iron handshake with just as much force. “Just a job. I won’t bore you with the details; from what I hear, you’re quite busy. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She nodded to the door behind him, and he decided that her smug little dismissal wasn’t going to do at all.

He dropped her hand and stepped back, his eyes never leaving Lilith’s. “Ophelia; I’d like to have a word with Ashley for a moment. I just need to make her understand the responsibility that comes with living in the same apartment as my… cat.”

Ophelia glanced between the two of them and seemed hesitant to leave them alone, but he gave her a pointed stare, and that was enough for her to clear her throat. “Alright, I’ll just go find Janus wherever he’s wandered off to so you can say goodbye. Uh. Be nice.”

Once his sister had disappeared further into her apartment, Mercury stepped closer to Lilith again so he could tower over her and hiss into her ear. “What the fuck are you playing at? You moved in with my sister?”

“Well I didn’t know she was your sister until two minutes ago,” Lilith snapped, taking a step back and crossing her arms while glaring up at him. “Trust me, if I had, I definitely wouldn’t have signed the damn lease.”

Mercury glared at her for a minute, trying to decide if he should believe her. Because honestly, what were the odds that his old, forgotten rival would move in with one of his family members? Although, no one at the League besides his assistant even knew he had a sister, as he’d hidden her existence for years, and Ophelia didn’t know what he actually did for a living, so it was somewhat plausible that this was just an unhappy accident. In either case…

“You’ll have to move out immediately.”

Lilith gaped at him. “What? No way! I just finished unpacking yesterday, and I already did all the paperwork—I can’t afford to break a lease!”

Mercury narrowed his eyes. “So whatever ‘job’ lured you back to my city doesn’t even pay well? I’m very curious to know the details.”

She scoffed and flipped her head to send her curtain of dark hair back back over her shoulder. “My life these days is none of your business, actually. As is who I’ve chosen to be my roommate. Trust me, I’m not stupid enough to do anything to your precious little kitten while Ophelia is catsitting. So you can go ahead and go now. We wouldn’t want you to miss your big photo op with the UN.”

“Your life became my business when you chose to involve yourself in my sister’s affairs,” he said through gritted teeth. “And that’s another thing—you can not say a word to Ophelia about our past or reveal my secret identity.”

Lilith blinked several times. “Wait… she doesn’t know that you’re Silver Boy?”

“It’s Silver Bullet now,” he snapped. “And no, she does not; I don’t like to bring my work home with me. She’s clueless, and she will stay that way if you know what’s good for you.”

Lilith furrowed her brow, but nodded slowly. “My past is dead and buried, so she won’t hear it from me.”

Mercury pursed his lips, but glanced at his watch. He would have preferred to keep talking so he could get more information about Lilith’s sudden return as well as impress upon her further the importance of keeping his secret from Ophelia, but he really had to get going this time.

“Hey, are you two done yet?” Ophelia asked as she entered the room again, this time with a wriggling Janus in her arms. “I thought you had a flight to catch.”

“I’ll have to leave in a minute,” Mercury confirmed, stepping closer to take Janus from her so he could say goodbye. Learning that Ophelia had a roommate and then Lilith’s reappearance had distracted him from his previous worries, but now they all came rushing back as he was moments away from stepping out the door. Janus leaned his head into Mercury’s chest and purred softly, and all Mercury could think of was how he was abandoning his son. They hadn’t been apart for any extended period of time since Janus had come home with him! If Lilith hadn’t been standing there, he would have told Janus that he loved him very much and would be back soon, that he was sorry to have to go and would rather just stay with him. As it was, he simply squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a firm kiss atop Janus’ head in between his ears.

“Cute cat you’ve got there,” Lilith said, and Mercury glared at her again. “How old is he?”

“About six months,” Ophelia answered as she reached out to stroke Janus’ fur. “Mercury found him when he was a kitten. Isn’t he just the best little boy?”

“You found a kitten six months ago, huh? I just bet there’s some great pictures of the two of you together back then.” Lilith smirked at him, and Mercury knew that she’d just figured it out. His grip on Janus tightened.

About six months ago, he—well, the superhero known as Silver Bullet—had raided an underground lab belonging to the evil scientist known as Gray Raven. After the fight, the League’s Media Liaison had shown up and had him pose for pictures holding some of the rescued animal test subjects—including a very young black kitten. After the photos, the League’s cleanup crew had taken all of the animals away so the results of Gray Raven’s experiments could be professionally monitored. It wasn’t until he’d gotten home that night that he’d realized the tiny black kitten he’d posed with had somehow snuck its way into his bag as he was leaving, and fallen asleep!

He should have notified his handlers immediately and turned the kitten over to the League like the rest of the rescued animals, but… he couldn’t bring himself to part with the little guy. So the kitten was named Janus and became his companion, and no one at work needed to know he’d gotten a cat. Ophelia had only found out after an unannounced visit shortly after that, which he’d never regretted, at least until now. Her mother had allowed her to have cats and other pets while growing up, an indulgence their father never allowed for him, so she had been able to fill him in on some of the knowledge he was lacking. It also meant that he didn’t have to trust a stranger in his home or consider boarding his precious cat when compelled to travel for work.

If he’d known Lilith would be in the picture, though…

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew it would be his assistant checking up on him to make sure he was on track to make his schedule. There really was no more time to linger.

Mercury sighed as he released Janus and tried to brush some of the cat hair off of his suit. He kept a lint roller in his car, so the rest of the evidence would be gone by the time he made it to the airport. “I really need to go now, but this discussion isn’t over,” he said, glancing at Lilith before fixing his gaze on Ophelia, who had the good sense to appear guilty about the shock she’d put him through at such an inopportune time. “I’ll see you in a week. Behave yourselves until then.” After a forced smile and quick hug from Ophelia, he turned and left. With every step he took away from the door, he was regretting his decision. It had been hard enough to agree to this when it was just leaving his cat with his sister, but now she was there!

He swore to himself that if any harm came to his cat or his sister and he could find the slightest bit of fault with her, then that demon woman would have hell to pay.

“So.” Ashley was standing with her arms crossed and was glaring at the door that Mercury had vanished through just minutes ago. “Your brother is Silver Boy.”

Ophelia took a deep breath and stood up from where she’d knelt to comfort Janus, who had started mewling in protest when his dad left, but had quickly been soothed when she dug out some cat treats from his bag. “Well he’s the Silver Bullet, now. The League rebranded him when he turned twenty.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Right. Rebranding. I’m forever thankful I ditched the League before I had to go through my own stupid ‘image update’. But regardless of what he goes by these days, did it not occur to you that this fact might be something I needed to know? We’re supposed to be partners!”

Ophelia crossed her arms to match Ashely’s stance. “You’re the one who said that just because we’re assigned partners doesn’t mean we’ve got to spill all of our secrets! You weren’t supposed to meet him in the first place, I told you to move your stuff from the entryway and keep quiet while he was here!”

She scoffed. “I forgot, ok? But this is a pretty big secret, a little heads up might have been nice! And he thinks you don’t know? What’s that about?”

“He and dad always made such a big effort to keep their identities from me when I came to visit, I didn’t have the heart to tell them mum had spilled the beans ages ago. So I played dumb… and so they just keep assuming that I am dumb. Anyway, it works to our advantage now, right? If I had been part of his Super world when my powers showed up, there’s no way I’d get a chance to complete the Justicar Trial with you. I know him; he’d have me carted off to the League and working as a registered Superhero on his team faster than you could say ‘Solar Flare’!”

“Right. Does Zoey know?”

“Zoey knows everything,” Ophelia confirmed, and Ashley finally relaxed her arms and shook her head.

“Well, as long as Ms. Butterfly is in on it, I suppose I can’t complain. She’ll have made all her little plans with him in mind. Your brother has no idea you’re powered?”

“None whatsoever, and it’s going to stay that way for as long as possible.” Ophelia tried to fix Ashley with a fierce stare to let her know Ophelia meant business. She knew she wasn’t nearly as capable of intimidation as her brother, but she had picked up a few things from him.

Ashley just scoffed. “No need to worry about him hearing it from me; I’d have been happy never to see his face again, and shall strive to avoid him as much as humanly possible while living with his sister. Next question: that cat. You do realize it came from an evil scientist’s lab, likely has some sort of mutant ability as a result, and will now be roaming freely around our apartment?”

That made Ophelia smile. “Yes, I know that, and understand where your concern is coming from, but there’s something you have failed to consider.”

“And what’s that?”

“He might be an evil science experiment, but Janus is also a very good boy.”

#my writing #fanfiction #shining nikki #mercury #lilith #ophelia #superhero au #cat sitting au #you know cause why not #long post

16 notes · View notes

knightsarmor · 3 years ago

Text

when: 8 march 2019 where: brooklyn, new york who: oliver, ryan & ben

@moiraxlibs

Ryan and Ben were leaning on the bar as Oliver approached them. “Hey, guys,” he said as he was quick to order himself a drink, looking at his friends.

“So, we were just talking about going speed dating,” said Ryan.

“More specifically, you and Ryan,” added Ben, pointing is bottle of beer between his two friends as if he needed to make it clearer. “You need to get back out there, Oliver.”

“What? Like dating on meth? I’m there,” said Oliver. “Am I the ugly friend you’re bringing to this excursion? Is that it?” he asked Ryan.

“What? No,” said Ryan. “You’re not ugly.”

“Maybe ugly is a strong word, but compared to you? Most of us look like dogs. Especially when I’ve got a nose that looks like I went face first right into the pavement a few too many times in my life,” said Oliver with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s got a point, Ryan,” said Ben. “You are conventionally attractive. You absolutely just appeal to the masses more than someone like Oliver. Oliver appeals to a much smaller population of women. Possibly some men. Little girls who grow up dreaming of the frogs they’re gonna kiss to turn in their Prince Charming, are thinking of you.”

“That’s not true,” insisted Ryan. “I’m not that good looking. Besides, women aren’t as shallow as men. They look deeper.”

“I’ll grant you that, but come on, speed dating? Where it’s based on a five minute impression of a person? How deep of a look are you really gonna get other than the basic highlights of a person and what they look like?” Ben pointed out.

“A hundred bucks says that you walk away with at least a dozen numbers from speed dating,” said Oliver with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, come on,” said Ryan rolling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t make it easy. You can’t mention that you’re a programmer or developer. You’re unemployed,” said Oliver.

“You’re slow too. Misunderstand everything they say,” added Ben, snapping his fingers.

“And none of that nice guy stuff. No flattering them. As far as you’re concerned, you’re blunt and abrasive and just say the first thing that pops into your head,” aded Oliver.

“Yeah, kind of how like Oliver can be sometimes,” said Ben.

“Shut up,” said Oliver.

“Alright, I’ll take that bet,” said Ryan with a nod. “Come on, speed dating is in the bar next to this one,” he added to Oliver. “Will be starting soon.”

“This was your plan to con me into this, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Need to get back into that dating pool, man,” said Ben. “This could be good for you. Just go and have some fun. And try not to insult anyone while you’re at it.”

“I’m nice, alright,” said Oliver as he drained his beer before he followed Ryan to the bar next-door, winding their way through people and going through a door that connected to the two locations.

The bar was already set up, individual tables set for two with a woman already seated at each table, which were numbered. Ryan was quick to sign the two of them in, and they were handed buttons: numbers 37 and 38.

A woman explained the rules: the men would go to the numbered table that matched their buttons. When they heard the horn, they would shift to the next table. Each date would take five minutes. The horn went off, and they were taking their seats at their first table.

Ryan —

Ryan had taken his own seat, his date immediately lighting up. “So, what do you do?” she asked him.

“Oh, I play video games,” said Ryan clearing his throat, leaning forward, his elbow on the table, holding his head as he drank from the cocktail in his hand.

“Oh? Professionally?”

“I wish,” said Ryan. “Be my dream job. But I do hold the highest score in League of Legends. I’m basically an internet legend.”

Oliver —

Oliver took his seat in front of a woman. She had on a corset and a leather jacket. As far as first impressions went, she seemed to be someone he could at least buy a drink for.

“Oliver,” he introduced himself.

“Kayla,” she replied. “I don’t want kids,” she added.

“Alright,” nodded Oliver tilting his head.

“I ride a bike.”

“Me too,” he added feeling further enticed leaning forward with some interest.

“And I believe the earth is flat.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” said Oliver as he then simply got up to go get himself a drink at the bar.

Ryan —

“So, yeah, I’m a pastry chef. I actually own a bakery not too far from here. I bake cakes and all sorts of other things, too,” said the woman.

“Yeah, I could tell by your hips,” said Ryan casually.

“I, uh, yeah, I suppose I could probably lose a few pounds,” she responded as she looked down and then back at Ryan.

Ryan looked at her, rather surprised by her response, having expected to definitely either been yelled at, physically assaulted, or have her burst into tears from that comment.

Oliver —

Oliver took a seat with another woman now, she immediately started talking to him. “Not a fan of these things.”

“So, you’re here against your will? Blink twice if you’ve been kidnapped,” said Oliver dryly.

“Friend dragged me here. She’s trying to put my life back together. Thinks I’m a mess.”

Oliver glanced down at a map she had in front of her, folded up as she continued to speak. “Just been planning out a road trip. I want to travel across the country, going to national parks and seeing all the natural monuments I can, meet people, test out languages I can speak. I’m a translator. I love the flow of language and how it can evolve over time, the way there’s words for certain things and concepts that don’t even remotely exist in other languages.”

Oliver nodded, as if interested in what she had to say. “Wow, what do you say you and I just pull an alarm and get out of here?” he said as he pointed over his shoulder. “Except, you planning on swimming through the Great Lakes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your rood trip. You brought a prop as a sort of conversation piece, which is admittedly really clever and seems to indicate a manipulative streak as you tell men what you think they want to hear, appeal to the part of them that might enjoy the outdoors and sense of adventure, but then you lacked the brains to follow through and couldn’t even be bothered to pen in an actual route, so you just drew some vague outline to make it look like you’re planning a road trip. I’m gonna also bet you’re not even a linguist.”

The woman sat half stunned and half annoyed just staring at Oliver.

“Five minutes up yet?” He asked as he pulled out his phone to look at the time.

—

A while later, and the night was over. The women had submitted the numbers of the men they wanted to get a call from and so, Oliver and Ryan moved to collect the numbers of the women. “These women would welcome a call from you,” said the hostess. Oliver was handed four cards. The hostess picked up another set of cards, she went through them as if to make sure she had picked up the right stack. “My, oh my,” she smiled and handed him what amounted to a small pile. It was at least fifteen cards, possibly more. Ryan flipped through them, looking almost horrified that at the feat he was able to accomplish.

The two boys walked away, moving back towards the other bar. Oliver held out his hand to collect his money.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” murmured Ryan to Oliver.

Oliver merely smirked triumphantly, ripping the cards he had gotten discreetly in half, already knowing he wouldn’t call a single one of those women and more than ever just looking forward to another drink.

#don't ask me what this is #i don't have answers #just thought it would be funny #drabble

1 note · View note

unfortunate-arrow · 4 years ago

Text

The July Ball

[A three part story, with other mcs (belonging to @danceworshipper, @daniella-gisele-rys & @hufflepuffs-honor) introduced in part 2.]

Part 1: Preparations

Doyle Lynch cut a tall, imposing figure. His frame was cloaked in black dress robes that gave him a rather sinister vibe. He was not conventionally attractive in the way that his “filthy mudblood” brother-in-law had been as Seán O’Donnell, with his pale skin, dark hair, and light eyes, had represented the best of the Black Irish. Doyle had only met his brother-in-law once, at the funeral of his “blood traitor” parents, when his sister had been pregnant with their oldest son, Cian. Cian’s obsession with the Cursed Vaults at Hogwarts and subsequent disappearance had stained the O’Donnell name. Luckily, though, most people forgot that one branch of the powerful Lynch family was associated with those filthy O’Donnells. Although, Doyle did have custody of all five of his nieces and nephews. He had been granted custody as the only living relative after the death of his mudblood brother-in-law’s parents. He terrified his four twelve-year-old nieces and nephews.

Doyle Lynch towered over the four quadruplets as he stood at the large desk in the center of his office. “I expect each one of you to present yourselves admirably at my ball tonight. As this shall be the first one that I am graciously allowing you to attend, I have asked a few of my guests to bring their children. Now, if you misbehave…” Doyle snarled, his unsaid threat hanging ominously in the air. The quads nodded furiously, all four too paralyzed to speak. “You are all expected to wear dress robes properly. Ryan, Cara, Sara, you are dismissed. Get out of my sight.”

The three named children stood up. Ryan dropped what he hoped to be a reassuring pat on his brother’s shoulder. Cara offered him a small smile and Sara squeezed his hand tightly. Once they exited the room, Doyle turned his full attention on his youngest nephew, Conor.

“I expect you to speak and to speak properly. I do not want any speculation that you are a dimwit or challenged mentally because of your inability to speak properly. Merlin only knows how you got into Ravenclaw with that ridiculous goddamn stammer. You will speak the same way that Ryan, Cara and Sara do. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, s-s-sir,” Conor answered, cursing himself in his head as he tripped clumsily over the word ‘sir.’

“Get out of my sight. And remember that I don’t want to hear your ridiculous stammer.”

Conor nodded and basically ran out of the office. He found Ryan, Cara, and Sara in the alcove between their rooms, on the other side of the manor. Ryan was laying on his back, his legs and feet resting up against the wall. Cara had a similar position, but on the window bench. Sara sat in one of the dusty armchairs.

“What did Uncle Doyle want with you?” Cara asked.

“My st-st-st-stammer,” Conor answered.

“Well, Uncle Doyle’s an asshat.” Ryan said it so matter of factly that Conor and Cara both broke into a grin.

“Ry! You need to be careful. I don’t want to see him hurt you again,” Sara said softly.

“Sara, he’s on the other side of the manor in his chambers. He rarely frequents here.”

“I know that, Ryan! I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“When’s this stupid ball, anyways?” Cara asked, interrupting before Ryan and Sara could have a full blown argument.

“Tonight, s-s-six th-th-thirty,” Conor answered, his cheeks flaming as the words got stuck.

“How do we handle Conor’s stammer, then?”

“Can you avoid your trigger sounds?” Ryan asked.

“No! It’s impossible to avoid th-th-them,” Conor answered, annoyance easily creeping into his voice.

“Talk as little as you possibly can, then. Don’t offer anything other than a greeting and only answer the questions that they ask. Although, they will probably ask about what houses we’re in.”

“Well, Gryffindor’s easy f-for me. But I’m not in Gryffindor!”

“Just be yourself, Conor. Your stammer isn’t who you are,” Sara snapped glaring at both her brothers.

“Yeah, I’m with Sara on this one. The only problem is Uncle Doyle, so maybe talk slower than normal. It might help,” Cara said.

Conor nodded and ran his hand through his brown hair. The four siblings passed the next two hours trading jokes, insults and possible ways for Conor to avoid stammering in front of the people that their uncle wanted to impress. At precisely five-thirty, a loud pop drew their attention. It belonged to one of the three house elves their uncle owned.

“Master says Ryan, Cara, Sara and Conor O’Donnell are to prepare for the ball,” he said, in his squeaky little voice.

“Of course, thank you, Colby,” Sara said, smiling at the small elf.

The elf nodded and then vanished. Ryan flipped himself over and stood up, dusting off his jeans with his hands.

“Well, guess it’s time to get ready. Off to the gallows!” Ryan exclaimed, throwing his arms out. His siblings rolled their eyes.

The two boys split off to one side to their shared bedroom on the left side of the hall. Ryan dropped himself onto his unmade bed, before turning to Conor.

“So what color dress robes are you going to wear?” he asked, tapping his fingers in a random pattern against the headboard of the bed.

“I don’t know. Maybe navy,” Conor said, rummaging through their shared wardrobe to find the dress robes their uncle had purchased.

“Uncle Doyle would probably prefer the darker colors. What if I do green? Sara says it compliments my eyes.”

“S-s-s-sure, if th-that’s what you want.”

“At least we don’t have to do hair. Are you going to wear your leather bracelet?”

“No. What about you?”

“Nah. I will wear Dad’s watch though. But, I won’t wear my sneakers either. Uncle Doyle would throw a hissy fit and then hex me just for fun.”

“Yeah. I’ll h-h-have Dad’s other watch on, too. I j-just don’t want to st-st-stammer.”

“He’s a jackass. You can’t control it and didn’t ask for it.”

Conor shrugged, pulled a set of dark green dress robes out of the wardrobe and threw it at Ryan, who just grinned. Then he grabbed another set of dress robes at random and threw it onto his bed. It didn’t take the two brothers long to change into the dress robes.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair and then dragged a comb through it, trying to make it look better. He glared distastefully at the black loafers that he had put on underneath the dress robes. He stood up and then glanced at Conor. His brother was dressed identically, just with navy dress robes and black dress shoes. Together, they stepped into the hall to wait for their sisters.

Meanwhile, in their shared room, Cara and Sara were staring at the four sets of dress robes their uncle had purchased for this occasion.

“I can’t have anything that clashes with my hair. Uncle Doyle would have a conniption,” Cara said.

“Take the black one or the navy one, then. After all, we don’t want to kill him,” Sara answered.

“I wouldn’t mind getting a few licks on him.”

“Wouldn’t we all. Conor should have the first go at him, though. Ryan could maybe have it as well. After all, Uncle Doyle’s much harsher on them.”

“Yeah. The nerve that he has to tell Conor that he can’t stammer. It’s not like it’s something he can control!”

“Yep. Do you have any idea who could be attending?”

“No. Uncle Doyle did mention that most of them would be our age, though. Maybe Barnaby Lee will attend with his jackass parents.”

“Who’s Barnaby?”

“He’s a Slytherin in our year. He’s not exactly the brightest, but he’s certainly tough. He’s one of Merula’s cronies, though.”

“Oh. He can’t be too bad though. Can he?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t really spoken all that much.”

“Ah. So, black or navy?”

“Let’s say navy. I’ll be bold tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll do the purple one. It’s so pretty.”

“It’ll look great on you, Sara.”

“The navy will look good on you too, Cara.”

“Thank you. Are you going to wear your claddagh?”

“Of course. What about you?”

“Nah, I think I’ll leave it with my bracelet.”

The two sisters smiled and quickly changed into their respective set of dress robes. After they finished getting dressed, the two girls braided each other’s hair as braids were much easier to do in a hurry than other hair styles.

They stepped into the hall and quickly spotted their brothers. Ryan was fiddling with one of the curtain tassels, while Conor was reading a book on the history of Donegal Castle. Both girls grinned.

“Hey, guys! Looking sharp,” Cara called out, startling both boys. Ryan yelped as he yanked a little too hard on the tassel, causing the curtain to come crashing down. Conor’s head snapped up from his book, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to assess the situation.

“Let’s head down before Uncle Doyle comes up and discovers the curtain is broken,” Sara said before her siblings could say anything.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #ryan o'donnell #cara o'donnell #sara o'donnell #conor o'donnell #doyle lynch #my writing #O'Donnell quadruplets #gryffindor mc #hufflepuff mc #slytherin mc #ravenclaw mc #hphm mc #hpma mc

11 notes · View notes

danganronpa-21 · 5 years ago

Text

Naegiri Week Day 3: Stars

So one of my favourite things to do for Naegiri Week when I receive a prompt... is to find my own weird little way to twist it. Today’s prompt is one of those times. I don’t really have any general warnings to give, apart from the fact that this piece features body image issues.

I hope you enjoy!

_____________

“Kyoko Kirigiri was more attractive before she had kids.”

A stupid statement. A rude, stupid statement. Some tabloid writer said it, or rather, wrote it. She knew it was a hook to get readers. Almost everyone said she shouldn’t take it personally. In the grand scheme of things, the words of one tabloid writer meant nothing, they claimed. He was just some idiot who measured her worth as a person by the way she looked; his words were no proof of how everyone else felt about her. No matter what awful things he said about her and her body; the comments he made about her having “too much fat on her stomach” and “hips that only accentuate her obvious weight gain” were that of a loser. Everyone told her that he was an idiot, and that she should just ignore him. He wasn’t worth it.

And rightfully, maybe he wasn’t. Maybe she should have ignored it.

But it was hard to feel like that asshole didn’t have a point when she met herself in the mirror.

Truth be told, she’d been having problems with body image long before the article had been published in that magazine. It wasn’t exactly like it was unusual for people to comment on her body. Prior to this writer, there had been hundreds of others who made comments. At first, most people made generic comments. Simple stuff about her being hot, having a nice rear, and her husband being the one lucky guy who got to have sex with her. Seeing celebrities on television over the years, she grew to expect that. No matter how strong and intelligent she was, people would focus most on her beauty. She knew she couldn’t defeat the culture that valued beauty over brains, or perpetuated the idea that women couldn’t be both brainy and beautiful. So she just ignored it. It never meant anything to her. However, as time went on, and Kyoko’s little family grew, the dynamic of these writers changed. More and more of them started to turn for the worse, mocking her postpartum state after her first two kids.

Still, she’d tried not to care. She adored her kids. She’d been more than confident enough in that to tell multiple magazines that she valued her son and her daughter more than being conventionally attractive. And to some degree, it was true. She really did love her kids, and the pair of them made her so much happier than the idealized body ever could.

Deep down though, somewhere within her heart, a seed of fear planted itself. A fear that maybe, just maybe, these tabloid people had some kind of point. That she really wasn’t as pretty as she used to be. That maybe the people most dear to her would start seeing it, and want to leave. Kyoko didn’t think she could take it if someone tried to leave. At the time, she’d been lucky enough to find that not a soul budged, even in spite of the comments, but… after the third baby, and the comments of that stupid tabloid writer… the worries had come bubbling back up again.

Saying hello to those worries again, at age thirty-four, is how she found herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror. Every detail under her own critical scrutiny.

Staring at herself in the mirror like this, she wondered how she should think of her body now. Her hair was shorter and thinner, to stay out of the reach of tugging baby hands. Some chub clung to her belly, still hanging about after six months of vigorous workout sessions. Her hips wider than they used to be, even when Hiroko had insisted that they probably wouldn’t change drastically. And the stretch marks… she couldn’t forget the stretch marks, and the way they spanned across her belly. Each child insisted upon bringing multitudes of new stripes with them, as if they liked creating more work for her. She spent years using creams and formulas to fade the marks, and now that she’d had a third, she knew she’d have to start trying again. Just looking at all of the progress, in constant reverse due to her pregnancies, it made her sigh. Kyoko couldn’t help but doubt that Makoto found her as sexy as he did when she was twenty-two.

If she was being honest, that was really the only thing she cared about. The only thing she was really fearful of. Whether others found her to be beautiful or liked the way her body looked was something she’d deemed irrelevant. All that mattered to her was that Makoto still found her appealing.

She felt sorry for herself, given that the sight of herself in the mirror caused her to sigh. Her charred fingers pinched her stomach sadly, wondering how she was ever going to reverse all of this baby weight.

“I can’t believe I actually used to wear this outfit,” She groaned, twisting to examine her figure further. She noticed new stretch marks start to reveal themselves on her belly, and she groaned. It made her never want to wear a sports bra or crop top again. “It’s amazing to think I ever looked good in this.”

She could remember those days. She’d been in her early twenties then; the perfect age to wear something so flashy. Back then, she could pull off this little workout outfit. A hot pink sports-bra and short shorts combination, built for sweat resistance and husband-catching. She recalled wearing it for every one of her home workouts, for the sake of granting herself Makoto’s attention. She could still draw up his expression in her mind; the face that told her that he was trying not to stare but couldn’t help himself. The memory of it made her giggle. How she longed for the days where he could barely keep his eyes off her.

Looking at herself in the present, wearing that outfit, she desired only to avert her gaze. Gone was the tiny waist, the strong hair, the flat tummy, the perky breasts. Replaced now with a shadow of those things; an ideal that seemed to elude the detective’s grasp. She’d been left with little more than a body that she struggled to feel comfortable in.

“So much for the days of looking sexy, I guess.” She muttered to herself, stealing one last glance in the mirror. She wasn’t sure what she hated more, when she saw herself — the state of her body, or the sadness etched into her expression. There was a haunting quality to the arms that were wrapped around her tummy, trying to shield her body from herself. Bowing her head, she drew herself away from the mirror, trying not to think about it. She would rather just rip the clothes off her body and move on with her day. At least she could do that comfortably. It wasn’t like she had any big plans to be intimate with Makoto that night; they were still parents to three kids after all. So long as she changed and tossed the outfit in the family’s outgoing donation box, no one would have to know. Her insecurity could be her little secret.

At least, that had been her plan, but a familiar voice from behind her was a little too determined to contradict it.

“Whoa!”

Makoto. She cursed mentally. How could she have forgotten that it would soon be time for the baby’s mid-afternoon snack? He must’ve come upstairs to give her her bottle. Leave it to him to be irritatingly on top of things. She could have kicked herself for having forgotten. Heat began to prick at her face, coating her nose and chin with shame and humiliation. How could she have been so naive? This was the last thing she wanted to see. Her shame felt so great that she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.

“Hello, Makoto…”

Her voice came out weakly, contaminated by the slight tremors of total embarrassment. If he noticed the difference, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just kept chatting away merrily, like he didn’t just walk in on his wife in something she didn’t look good in.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answered, slight amusement in his voice. This only spurred her embarrassment on further. Was he laughing at her? The thought made her want to melt into the floor. God, he wasn’t so cruel as to laugh at her, was he? “Found some old clothes you wanted to try on again?”

She tried to play along. Surely he was going to joke, wasn’t he? Just like everyone else did. Pushing out the fakest laugh she could muster, she turned towards him. Maybe she could play it off as a joke, too, and spare herself the humiliation. “Yes, I wanted to make sure these didn’t look good anymore, so I could get rid of them.” She placed a hand on her hip, trying desperately to look nonchalant. “I look quite atrocious, don’t I? The years haven’t exactly been kind to me.”

“What?” Makoto exclaimed, shaking his head in disagreement. “Come on, don’t even joke about that.”

Beads of sweat slipped down her forehead. Had she misinterpreted what he wanted to convey?

“Joke about what?”

“Your body! I mean, come on, Kyoko, look at you! You’re beautiful!”

Beautiful? If she couldn’t see the thick rims of them on his face, she would ask if he was wearing his glasses. Partial blindness was the only way he could have found her beautiful, or at least, that’s what the voice in her head said.

“Makoto…” She answered breathlessly, unsure of how to tell him the truth. She had hoped that the whole thing was just a joke to him, but he was making it increasingly clear that his intentions were serious. So serious that Kyoko found herself fidgeting uncomfortably; what could she possibly say?

Her silence made his concern pounce onto her anyway. His face fell; his cute smile flipped into a frown. Before she knew it, he slipped into the room. Oh god, she thought, now he really means business.

“Kyoko?” His gaze was pitying when he stared at her. She loathed it. He knew how much she hated being pitied, but at the same time… she knew sometimes she had to let that go. Of course it was unappealing, yet sometimes she knew it to be necessary. Sometimes it was just what needed to happen. In cases that involved Makoto, this was often how he would help her work towards a solution.

Brushing a strand of purple hair away from her face, she swallowed. The words seemed to catch in her throat, and she wondered if she might even be able to say them. In front of his worried eyes, she felt so small and fragile. Like one of the ceramic ballerinas her grandfather kept in their old mansion. Saying the words made her feel like she was going to fall and smash. “I… Do you honestly still think I’m beautiful?”

Her husband’s eyes went wide with shock. Evidently that was a ridiculous question to him. So ridiculous that he went flying to her side; eager to provide affection for his downtrodden spouse. “Of course I do!”

His hand found its way to her cheek, and he began stroking it softly with his thumb. It was a technique he used frequently, should she become overwhelmed. In a way, she supposed it sort of helped her to push the words out. “Do you promise your words aren’t empty?”

He nodded frantically. “Of course. What made you think otherwise?” His eyes searched her face for a moment. She could see that he hoped for an answer. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the opportunity to give one. Anger flickered across his face suddenly, like the lighting of a flame, catching her before she could tell her truth. “Was it that tabloid writer?”

She shook her head sadly; her shoulders slumping. “It’s not just him,” She confessed, “I’ve sort of felt this way for awhile. Like I might not be as attractive to you as I used to be.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know… I guess I just… got insecure. My body is so different than it used to be. When you married me, I could have been a model, but now… I guess I kind of have a mom body.”

“And what’s wrong with having a mom body?”

Kyoko rolled her eyes. “This coming from the guy who failed to gain ten pounds when the doctor said it would be good for his health.”

“There is nothing wrong with having a mom body.” Makoto stated firmly, determination in his voice. “Do you have extra weight on you? Sure. Are your hips wider? Yes. Are you covered in stretch marks? Of course. But you know what? You’re still drop dead gorgeous. There’s nothing prettier than a mom body. It makes you look like the night sky.”

She blinked at him, not quite understanding what that analogy was supposed to mean. “The night sky?” She raised an eyebrow at him. Whatever he meant by that, she wasn’t sure anyone would have known. But in Makoto speak, it probably meant something sugary sweet.

“Don’t you think your stretch marks are like little constellations?”

No, she thought, I don’t. I’ve never looked at them that way… Was that really how he looked at them?

“I… suppose? I fail to see how this proves the idea of a mother’s body being alike the night sky.”

He reached over to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, laughing gently. “Alright, think of it this way: your body's like the night. It’s full and beautiful, for it’s held so much. You’ve given birth to three beautiful beings; tiny planets that grew within you.”

“... and my stretch marks are constellations.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Exactly. Having a mom body makes you just like the night sky, and you’re just as beautiful. You’re just as beautiful as a sky full of stars.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gush of air. Such an analogy being used to describe her, it made her speechless. After years of inappropriate comments from others, and these deeply-rooted worries that he might not love her if she wasn’t so pretty anymore… a little idea he had lifted all the weight from her shoulders. There was nothing she could say that would thank him well enough for that; the only thing that came close enough was his name as she flung herself into his arms.

She made him stumble; her body crashing into his. She lucked out in him being able to retain his balance, nearly grabbing onto the edge of their bed with his free arm to ensure that would happen. His other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and she couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of it. She hadn’t realized just how long it had been since she’d really allowed him to touch her torso.

“Kyoko…” He murmured, his lips to close to her ear that she felt as if she might shiver. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, or how you change… You’re always going to be beautiful to me.”

She laughed softly, pulling him in even tighter. “I’ll always be your night sky full of stars.”

#Naegiri2019 #Naegiri #Danganronpa #thh #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #DR1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #fluff #fanfiction #kyouko kirigiri #kirigiri kyoko #naegi makoto

49 notes · View notes

im-that-bitch-still-that-bitch · 5 years ago

Text

A Place to Recover~s.b.

a/n: this is the first thing I’ve ever written on here, so I hope people like it! I just couldn’t get this idea for a story out of my head and had to write it. more parts to come... and it starts at the end of the first season with an alternate ending to the whole heading exploding thing

Part I-Homecoming: the prequel

The peaceful guitar melody of “Kiss me” by Sixpence None the Richer hummed softly out of Erin Brennan’s iPhone speaker as she put the finishing touches on her makeup for the homecoming dance. As she pulled loose strands of hair out of her half-up ponytail and laced up her converse, she couldn’t help but notice her hands shaking. Her best friend’s words earlier that week echoed in her ears,

“You just can’t wear heels. No guy wants to dance with a girl who’s taller than him.”

Erin didn’t want to give off a “girl who wears converse with a dress to be quirky” vibe, but she despised ballet flats, so what else was there?

She straightened up and looked into her full-length mirror at her lanky body in the pale pink slip dress she’d bought at a thrift store a week ago. The only thought racing through her mind was how stupid she felt, but that feeling always seemed to come with getting dressed up for Erin. She felt like an imposter.

“Do you really think you can convince people you’re pretty?”

As her dark brown eyes met her own in the mirror, she noticed a single tear threatening to slip out of her perfectly curled lashes, “Fuck.”

She had promised herself she wouldn’t smoke or drink at all before the dance because of the homecoming debacle of 2018 when not one, but three of her friends she showed got kicked out and suspended for being drunk, but as soon as that little tear began threatening to fall, she caught it on her index finger and climbed out onto her roof with a joint in hand.

As she felt the joint burn down to a tiny nub and the heat in it growing closer to her fingers, she let it fall onto the wet grass of her backyard and climbed back in through her window. Her timing was opportune because just as she latched the window closed, her sister barged into her room,

“Erin, we’ve been calling you for like ten minutes. Mom wants pictures,” Clare said, running out of breath.

“Yeah, I’m coming. Sorry, I didn’t hear you over my music.” She was in the clear luckily.

But as she strolled towards her bedroom door to follow in Clare’s lead, Clare stayed put. She whipped around and sniffed Erin’s shoulder. “You might want to put on some perfume,” she turned back and walked another two paces before turning to Erin once more to taunt, “Pothead!”

Erin laughed and spritzed perfume on her dress, then walked out the door. Mrs. Brennan squinted at her phone while snapping pictures of Erin with her best friend Kate, claiming she would only take “one more,” once every two minutes.

“We’re leaving mooom,” Erin called as she opened the passenger seat to Kate’s Mercedes Benz. The two had been best friends since middle school, making quite the dorky duo when they were both in puberty’s punishing grasp. When high school started, Kate blossomed into the perfect picture of a conventionally attractive woman, earning her lots of popularity. In a way, she dragged Erin to her new friend group. They were less than welcoming seeing as Erin was a bit offbeat, but they knew Kate was too stubborn to leave her other half behind.

The two girls stepped into the gym and admired the golden glow of fairy lights hung from the ceiling. They spotted their friends immediately, and the bubbly girls ran to them and insisted on hitting the photo booth. Of course, they all immediately came up with about a dozen different combinations of girls they wanted in a photo, none of which included Erin.

“I can hold everyone’s purses,” Erin spoke shyly. The girls all jumped on the idea, piling their clutches in their arms. Erin would get annoyed, but this was high school for her; catering to her so-called friends’ interests and needs because if they dropped her, where would she go, anyway?

Feeling more confident than ever due to her high, Erin marched up to the DJ booth, “What is going on with this set list?” The boy behind the booth shrugged indignantly, clearly not looking to cater to this girl’s music taste. The two argued for nearly five minutes.

“Listen, if you don’t wanna play Twin Peaks, then at least just go for a crowd favorite to play it safe.”

A voice spoke up from next to her, “Twin Peaks, huh? Not bad. I just came over here to figure out what the hell’s going on with this set list.” Stanley Barber stood beside Erin with his arms folded, staring the DJ down.

“Oh, hey Stan,” Erin said, then turned to the DJ, “Listen, man. I’m just trying to help. Do what you wanna do.” And with that, she was off.

Stanley watched the girl walk away, sort of amazed that she knew his name, but then again, that was the popular people’s job; knowing everyone. She had actually first caught his attention in his debate class, when she’s known for sparring with Bradley Lewis. Two weeks prior, they’d had quite the nasty exchange:

“I just think people should be less harsh on men with all this ‘Me Too’ crap.”

“If you think that you’re part of the problem. The behaviors these men are getting in trouble for are toxic, and they were normalized in a toxic society.”

“Maybe you think that way, but not everyone’s a crazy feminist bitch,” he spat.

Erin scrunched her nose with distaste, “Call me a crazy bitch again, Lewis, it really gets me hot and bothered.” Of course, the inevitable came, “ooh’s” and gasps from their classmates and a day in detention for the two debaters.

It was days like that when the distinction between Erin and her friends became clear. She was stubborn as hell and refused to try to please people like Bradley Lewis. Stan respected her for it, but what did the local pot dealer’s respect mean? Nothing.

The rest of the night went as usual. The group of girls all danced together, squealing with excitement when their song came on. Erin was (thankfully) able to find a boy from the hockey team to dance with for the slow dance who was pretty nice, wandering hands aside.

The trouble came when it was time to announce homecoming queen and king. “All right ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? Stop right there, please. It is my privilege to introduce your homecoming king and queen, Jeff Butters and Julie Frasheski!” Erin and her friends all cheered extra loud, as Julie had shown up with them. Jeff Butters began his less than graceful speech, only to be interrupted by none other than Erin’s infamous debate opponent.

The boy jerked around on stage, trying to avoid the principal’s grasp, “I would like to take this moment to talk about something very important that affects everyone here. Sydney Novak. Hey, Sydney! Give a wave so everybody can see you.”

Erin felt her jaw clenching with anger, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a bit thankful Brad hadn’t chosen her as the subject of this odd callout speech, as they were sworn enemies.

He continued, “You see, what a lot of people don’t know about Sydney here… she is one hell of a writer.” The boy pulled a notebook out of his Letterman jacket pocket, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. “You know, it’s funny, because everyone is so fast to call me an asshole, but while I was downstairs banging Jenny Tuffield at Ricky’s, guess what Sydney was doing upstairs.”

Erin racked her mind trying to remember which party Ricky has hosted. The memories of playing beer pong with Julie, Becca, and Kate came flooding back into her mind. Becca puked in the bushes at the end of the night, and a football player had asked Erin for her “hot friend’s number,” which happened a lot.

“She was kissing my girlfriend,” Bradley spat into the mic. Erin anxiously chewed her lip, trying to think of something, anything, to do to stop whatever Brad was attempting. She didn’t know Syd, but she knew that getting made fun of by Bradley Lewis was no walk in the park, and no one deserves to be outed against their will.

The boy drew closer and closer to Syd, continuing his monologue of hatred, full of homophobic slurs, of course. As he continued to rib on the girl, even getting into her family life, Stanley Barber marched out of the crowd, gentlemanly as always, “Hey, man. Leave her alone.” His heroic gesture was cut short by Brad swinging a right hook punch right across his cheek.

Erin grew more and more anxious. She hadn’t even noticed that she had been cowering backwards until she felt her back hit the wall. She gasped and turned around. She scanned the room, seeing that everyone’s eyes were on Brad. Another key thing that she observed was the fire alarm right next to her shoulder. Her mind raced at the speed of light: “If Brad is exposing whoever he doesn’t like, then I’m next… Falsely pulling a fire alarm is a federal offense… What if I tackled him…. He’d beat the shit out of me.” Her thoughts began to overlap and get more jumbled, when she felt impulsivity take over her body as she yanked on the fire alarm. The sprinklers turned on, and a chorus of whines and shrieks came from the students who were currently getting soaked.

Erin’s chest began to rise and fall more quickly with every anxious breath. She stood frozen in place watching everyone flee the scene. After the main crowds scattered, she saw Dina and Syd each hooking an arm under Stan’s armpits and carrying him out of the gym. In a moment of bravery, Erin asked if they needed help and ran to the three. Syd and Dina accepted thankfully as Erin picked up the boy’s ankles and began to walk backwards, “Let me know if I’m about to bump into something, okay?”

The three finally reached Stan’s car and laid him down in the back seat. Just as Erin caught her breath, she heard tires screeching and saw Kate’s Mercedes Benz whipping out of the school parking lot with a drenched Julie and Becca in the back. “Shit,” she muttered.

“I-is something wrong?” Dina asked.

“Um… yeah, my ride sort of just left.”

“Oh well, I’m sure Stan can drive you home when he wakes up,” Dina said with a friendly, but clearly shaken smile.

“If he wakes up,” Syd added with a blank look in her eyes.

“SYD, don’t say that!” Dina yelped.

Sydney spoke up, looking at Erin, “Could you give us some privacy for a minute?”

Erin looked around awkwardly, “Uh, yeah. I’ll just… walk to the other side of the parking lot.” As she kicked the pebbles on the ground and watched Dina and Syd in a heated argument, she began to regret staying to help them. She probably could’ve gone home with Kate if she had rushed out like everyone else, but she was with two near strangers nursing another near stranger who was unconscious while the remaining teacher chaperones walked the perimeter of the school trying to see if there was an actual fire.

Erin was pulled out of her thoughts by Syd yelling (which she had never heard the girl do before), “Holy shit, he’s up.”

Erin began to jog back over to them, reading their facial expressions to see if they were done with their chat. Dina looked down at Stan intently, “Hey, buddy. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Stan furrowed his brows for a moment then sputtered out, “Brad… son of a bitch… how did I get out here?”

#fic #ianowt #stanley barber #sydney novak #dina #brad #i am not ok with this netflix #fanfiction #writing

6 notes · View notes

rootbeergoddess · 5 years ago

Text

A Night at the Bar

A long overdue commission for @thekraziesreside featuring her OC Em and Dr. Drakken.

Em took out her compact mirror and looked at herself. She thought she looked cute; one of her friends who were more make-up savvy than she was had helped her with her look. She was wearing a simple yet elegant black cocktail dress and matching pumps. Still, she wasn’t 100 percent sure. Dating was not her thing. Yeah, she dated, but she would rather be at home working on her latest project.

“Well, I’m here,” She put her mirror away. “Guess I better try this mixer thing out.”

Em stepped into Dr. Brew’s Bar of Evil. The name was a bit much, or at least she thought so. It was mostly a place for henchmen and aspiring villains to hang out. There wasn’t anything really evil about their activities, though. Most people went to the bar just to relax. Or in the case of tonight, attend a singles mixer.

It was good that Em was going out; she had been in her lab all week. It wasn’t right for her. According to research, it was important for young women her age to socialize. Em did have friends, of course, but most of them didn’t understand her work, and they usually would instead go clubbing. Hell, going to a bar was rare for Em. She was only here because her friend Nicky suggested it. Both of them were single, and they were both free on Friday. Em had no good excuse, so she had agreed.

“Em, over here!”

Em felt reassured when she saw Nicky. They were polar opposites; Nicky was an artist while Em was a scientist. Nicky was wearing a bright, pink dress with lime green heels and yellow earrings. Of course, she was, and Em was happy about that. Em needed someone bright and bubbly like Nicky in her life. Nicky ran over to Em and gave her a hug.

“It’s been such a long time,” Nicky said.

“You saw me last week,” Em replied.

“Emmy, come on,” Nicky sighed. “Talking to you on the phone isn’t the same as interacting with you in real life. You know that, right?”

“True,” Em followed Nicky to a table. “But isn’t talking on the phone enough?”

“I can’t hug you over the phone,” Nicky continued. “And when I do call you, you always seem so distracted by your work. Speaking of which, did you finish that latest gadget? What was it?” “I can show you,” Em said, reaching into her purse.

“Let’s sit down first,” Nicky said, pushing Em into a seat. “I’ll order you a drink, what do you want?”

I’ll just take a water for now,” Em said, taking out a small box. “Now look.”

Nicky opened up the box. She made an ‘oh’ noise when she saw the golden bracelet lying in the box. Carefully, Em picked up the item and slipped it on Nicky’s wrist. Nicky smiled as she held it up, taking a look at it. Em leaned over, pressed a button on the side, and a dart flew out. It flew past a few patrons before sticking to the wall.

“Wow!” Nicky giggled. “So, the person who asked for this is making a store of jewelry that doubts as a weapon?”

“Basically,” Em said. “Not only does it have darts, but it also pepper spray and a mini taser.”

“Can I order one? I’d love one of these,” Nicky slipped it off her wrist. “Em, you really a genius.”

Em blushed a bit. She knew she was smart, but it was always so strange hearing it from her friends or others. She didn’t know why. The waiter brought their drinks, and to avoid saying something stupid, Em took a long sip of her water. Thankfully, Nicky continued the discussion.

“I still can’t get over how well the lock picking ring you made me works,” Nicky tapped the ruby ring on her finger. “Haven’t gotten caught once. Managed to snag a nice set of jewels this week too.”

“I saw that on the news,” Em said “You did a good job. You’re one of the best thieves in this town, probably the best.”

“Thank you, Emmy dear,” She said, looking towards the bar. “Oh, look!”

Em followed Nicky’s finger. That blue skin was hard to ignore. The one and only Dr. Draken was standing at the bar. Everyone in the villain community knew who he was. Opinions on him varied differently, but he was still respected. No one teased him about being beaten by a cheerleader; every villain in Middle had dealt with Kim. Em was somewhat surprised to see Draken at the club. She had never seen him here before. “I wonder if Shego is with him,” Nicky said. “I’m telling you Em; she looks killer in cocktail dresses.”

“Oh, not again,” Em sighed. “Nicky, you have to stop lusting after that woman.”

“When she gets less hot, maybe I’ll do it,” Nicky stuck her tongue out. “Oh, the event is starting soon.”

Internally, Em groaned. She was dreading this. Yes, she needed to get back into the dating scene, but she wasn’t sure about this. Nicky had assured her that these things were fun, and it was a great way to meet people. The problem was that Em wasn’t good at dealing with people. She could handle Nicky, but other people seemed to want more. They demanded a lot of her, wanting her to be conventionally attractive or play dumb; Em refused to do either.

“Okay, so we get to sit down for this,” Nicky said. “We have this little piece of paper, and it has the names of all the guys who come by to talk to us. We rate how we liked them, turn this in at the barn, and then they set us up with who they think our perfect match would be.”

“That sounds simple enough,” Em admitted.

Sadly, it wasn’t simple.

The first issue was all the men were so unbelievably boring. None of them wanted to talk about science or inventing, and they wanted to use bad pick-up lines. While Em found the bad pick up lines funny, Em still wished they were interested in talking about anything. If they did ask Em did and she revealed her talents, they all commented the same.

“I dig nerdy chicks.”

It took all of Em’s power not to throttle them. She was actually thankful that the men were more interested in Nicky. Nicky had done these things before, and she was good at shutting down rude remarks. Em was jealous, wishing she could do the same. She would deliver a simple ‘No,’ and that was enough to stop these men in their tracks. How did she do it?

“Alright, ladies,” Dr. Draken suddenly sat down in front of Em. “I’m here!”

“And I’m out,” Nicky rolled her eyes. “I’ll go see if Shego is around.”

“Wow, Dr. Draken,” Em was in awe. “I can’t believe it, I’ve always wanted to talk to you.”

“Who wouldn’t want to talk to me?” Dr. Draken grinned. “I am the great Dr. Draken, after all!”

“I’ve always wanted to talk to you about science and your inventions,” Em continued. “I remember that amazing buggy car you made.”

“Oh, really?” Draken looked surprised. “You---follow my work?”

“Yes! In fact, I’m an inventor myself,” Em reached into her purse.

She pulled out a lipstick tube. Draken looked unimpressed as Em took off the cap and then aimed it at a bar patron. She pressed a button, and a ball of putty flew out of the tube. It hit the man at the bar, wrapping around him. The man toppled out, shouting out in surprise.

“Amazing!” Draken exclaimed.

“Oh, really, it’s nothing,” Em blushed.

“Nothing? My dear, that invention of yours is brilliant!” Draken said. “I’ve never met someone who could challenge me intellectually, but you? You might come close! Tell me, what is your name?”

“It’s Em,”

“Well, Em, I want to know what else you have. You could possibly help me with my plans for world domination!”

Em could feel her face getting redder. She couldn’t believe that this was happening. Draken was someone she had always admired. Talking to him was something she had dreamed of. A long time ago, when he was just Drew, they had met in college. She had liked him enough, but when he became Draken, things changed. Getting to talk to him and have him praise her inventions was more than she could have hoped for. They spent the rest of the event talking, exchanging ideas, and plots for defeating Kim Possible. Em didn’t realize how much time had past until Nicky returned.

With Shego’s arm wrapped around her.

“Well, it looks like you two are getting on like a house on fire,” Nicky chuckled. “But the bar is closing up, so we should probably head out.”

“It is? Oh, how long have we been talking?” Em felt somewhat embarrassed.

“Who knows? Shego is going to walk me home,” Nicky said with a grin. “So, I’ll catch you later, Em.”

“Goodnight, Doc,” Shego waved to her boss. “If you need anything, ask someone else.”

“Bah, who needs her?” Drakken sniffed dismissively. “They can go do what girls do when they’re together. What do girls do when they’re together? Braid each other’s hair?”

Em was 100% percent sure no hair braiding would be going on, but she decided not to tell Drakken that.

“We’re people of science! We have minds that many people can’t fathom! We scare people,” Drakken continued. “So, why don’t you show me more of your inventions? Maybe we could work on something! I even have a new idea. Pigs with laser guns!”

“Um---how would they hold the lasers?”

Drakken paused and then frowned.

“Nuts,” He grumbled. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Well, they wouldn’t have to hold the guns per se,” Em said. “Maybe you could have a headband, and the lasers are automatic?”

“That’s brilliant? See?” Drakken leaned closer. “You and me? We’re genius together! Think of all the things we could do.”

Em didn’t really care about taking over the world. She didn’t want to rule, that was too much work. She was fine with working with Dr. Drakken, though. While somewhat overzealous, he was a smart man. It was also refreshing to find someone who didn’t expect her to be stupid and didn’t mind that she had a brain.

“What other ideas do you have?” Em inquired. Drakken beamed like a kid in a candy store. Em glanced at her phone. It was a text from Nicki. She smiled as she read it.

Hey babe! U alright? Dr. D better b treating you, right! Shego and I had a LOT of fun if you know what I mean. ;)

Em chuckled as she replied.

I’m fine. Dr. D and I have been up all night planning.

For hours, after leaving the bar, Em and Dr. Drakken had schemed. Dr. Drakken had taken Em to his lab, and since Shego was out, the two of them have plenty of time to themselves. All night they drew up schematics, made models, and planned for the future. Em didn’t realize how early it was until the sun had risen. She felt tired, yet awake at the same time. She could have kept going if it wasn’t for the hunger in her stomach.

Her phone pinged again.

Look @ u! I told u that mixer would be fun and I was right

Em smiled.

I’m glad I went. We’re going to have breakfast right now.

She was shocked to learn that Dr. Drakken could make pancakes. Usually, Shego did the cooking, but he could make a mean flapjack. As Em texted Nicky, she stood up and headed into the kitchen. The smell of chocolate greeted her nose. She smiled at Dr. Drakken placed his last pancake onto a plate.

“We can’t scheme on an empty stomach,” Dr. Drakken said. “Orange juice or lemonade?”

“Orange juice please,” Em said as she sat down.

“This is so much better than making breakfast for Shego,” Dr. Drakken poured a glass of orange juice for Em. “Just wait until she sees all the work we’ve done!”

Em decided not to mention that Shego and Nicky probably had their own fun. “I think I’ll use the pigs the next time Kim Possible comes and tries to foil my schemes,” Dr. Drakken handed the glass to Em. “Oh, I can’t wait to see her face!”

“Shouldn’t you plan your next idea for world domination?” Em suggested.

“Once again, you’re right!” Drakken took a bite of his pancakes. “So, got any ideas?”

Em was shocked. Dr. Drakken wanted an idea from her? She felt flattered. Not many people asked for her ideas. It had been a long time since someone wanted her input too. She sipped her juice, thinking. Did she have any ideas she could offer? What was something that hadn’t been done?

“Well, first, you’d probably want to make sure you could get rid of Kim,” Em began. “Like we could use teacup pigs. They’re cute, and girls like cute things.”

“Do they? I don’t know much about ladies,” Drakken blushed suddenly. “Don’t let Shego know I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Em said. “Believe it or not, I’m not that great with guys. I only went to the bar last night because Nicky pushed me to go. Nicky is always trying to get me to go out and do more things.”

Em was surprised she was telling Drakken this. It seemed easy to talk to him. That would probably shock people seeing as how Dr. Drakken had a reputation for being a bit of a jerk. Yet despite what she knew about him, she was enjoying her time with him. Maybe it was because they both enjoyed science and knew what they were talking about. Either way, for the first time in a long time, Em was happy. It was nice to talk to someone else besides Nicky.

“Bah, no wonder Shego likes her so much,” Drakken said. “She’s always going on about how I need to go outside or saying how I need to get some sunlight because it’s what normal people do.”

Em chuckled. No wonder they were getting along so well; they were really similar.

“Anyways, enough about that,” Drakken took another bite of his pancakes. “Let’s finish up these pancakes, and then it’s back to the lab!”

Em finished up her pancakes. Once she was done, Drakken took them to the sink, and then they headed back to the lab. Em was happy to spend the rest of the day in the lab, coming up with plans and planning for world domination. This was one of the few times she was happy that Nicky had dragged her out of the house. She was going to have to thank her later. But for now, she would focus on finalizing the details on the laser pigs.

#Rooty Writes #Kim Possible #Shego #Dr. Drakken

1 note · View note

writinandcrying · 6 years ago

Note

HERE I’M AGAIN!!!! 36 and Tokoyami, let’s love my bird boy.

HELLO MY LOVE! i was thinking about 2 scenarios for this one, but I recently read some “7 minutes in heaven” scenarios and I can’t get this over my head

36- Starting with eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

Fumikage Tokoyami - Round 2.

“How old are we? 11?” You heard Bakugo angrily shout over Mina holding the bottle over the center of the table, Kaminari was covering his eyes, preparing his friend for another round of 7 minutes in heaven, who ever was blindfolded had to spin the bottle, and when it stopped they would get a partner to enjoy their 7 minutes into the dusty closet around the living room area. The only two rules were : mineta is not allow to play ( girls request, which everyone agreed to, expect himself ) and the one who wasn’t blind fold wasn’t able to talk, but could do whatever he or she pleased to (with the persons consent ).

After 3 minutes of a light discussion of how-there-isn’t-any-other-thing-to-do-because-the-lights-are-out-also-if-you-don’t-want-to-play-then-don’t! From Mina and Bakugo, he angrily spanned the bottle (almost breaking it); after a while, it stopped in front of Ochako, gathering loud gasps from everyone, she hurriedly moved a bit to their left, poining it to Kirishima, exploding the rooms with laughs, Ochako patted his arm, reassuring him with smile, she (and practically everybody ) knew the boy had a crush on Bakugo, and tonight was their night, after gathering many “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?” from Bakugo, he stopped his bickering when he felt Kirishima hand over his, probably knowing who was it from, he loudly stood up and with a loud BANG, they were gone into the closet.

“GOD! that was golden” Kaminari whipped a few tears around the corner of his eye, the group loudly began to talk like in every round while the destinated pairs were at the closet, by far you could hear Sero and Mina congratulating Ochako with her brilliant idea, but you couldn’t help but to drift off to your thoughts, sure this night has been eventful, gladly you haven’t been chosen, and neither did the person you wanted to spent 7 minutes with, Fumikage Tokoyami

Sure, some thought it was weird that you had a crush specifically in the boy with a bird head, but you couldn’t help it, his aura to you was intoxicating, he wanted to become a hero even if his quirk was a powerful and dangerous one, his voice drew you in every time, you could melt in his arms if he wanted to, but apparently you were very good in hiding your feelings, or maybe he just wasn’t interested? You both were always very respectful to each other, never really showed any signs of romantic interest. Trying to brush off your suddent insecurities, you held in your legs close to your chest, like a little child who was afraid of the dark

“You alright?” You heard Jirou next to you, it was hard to see with the few light candles around the room, but you sensed worry in her voice “yeah, just... nervous” shyly admitting, you glanced at him and the ground several times, picking up in your manners, Jirou held your hand “Don’t worry, he will pick you” there wasn’t a certainty in the bottles spins, but Jirou’s comments made you felt a bit at ease.

With another loud bang, Bakugo and Kirishima returned, holding hands, with smiles in their lips, You sensed large hands moving around close to your right side, “hey, you can’t take the blind off!” tenya decided to step in and reassure the rules once more after many rounds.

“Shut up” the blonde remarked, throwing the blindfold “your turn, bird boy “ with help of Shoji to cover his eyes, Tokoyami held the bottle, breathing slowly he span it, which erupted in many whispers and a loud cheer from Jirou when it stoped in from of you

Gathering courage, you held his hand and guided him to the closet, not minding the “good lucks!” Form your friends, your mind was traveling light speed, you haven’t really thought how were you going to kiss him, no ones ever asked him if he had kissed, you were afraid that maybe you were breaking some boundaries, but he hasn’t said anything, any demand to stop this game, so now there was no turning back,

after hearing soft click from the lock, you guided him to sit in front of you, while holding his hand, your anxiety decided to pick up a visit, should you just- go for it? Wait for him to say something? What if he didn’t want to be there? After some seconds of over thinking, you heard a long sign “My apologies, I am aware I am not the best match to play this game, since my physique isn’t conventionally attractive-” your heart shattered a bit after hearing him talk low about himself, in a rushed movement, you held one of his hand close to your chest, and the other close to your cheek, you didn’t knew if he was going to be able to feel your heart beat, or how hot your cheeks felt, but for you, your heart was broadcasting your feelings so loud, maybe he would hear it too after all

“Oh, you are... nervous?” You nodded, “Sorry for jumping to conclusions then” you chuckled, smiling a bit to know you were happy to be there. Nuzzling a bit in his hand, you heard a quiet gasp from him, and from then one you knew how to make your first move, Eskimo kisses.

His beak was a bit cold, but smooth, his feathers had an coffee like aroma, mixed with the smell of books and hardwood. oh how you wanted to take that blind fold off so you could see his eyes. His breath became rapid, but still soft, you placed a kiss in the corner of his beak, trailing the whole lip line until the other corner, you held his jaw like it was the most precious thing you fingertips have ever touched, you didn’t knew, but that was indeed Tokoyamis first kiss, and he wanted to return it so badly, nuzzling in your hand, he licked your bottom lip, an invitation to be more bold towards what was left of your time.

You held his head with both hands now, trailing your fingertips along his feathers, sitting in his lap, he held you close, opening your mouth, tasting more of his beak as an unspoken act that you wanted to French kiss. to whoever watched it, it would get concerned that his beak might hurt your eye, but to you his tongue worked miracles, to someone who was having his first kiss, he knew what he was doing, the seductive attempts of tasting you and your lips made you weak, he hugged you tight. Almost desperately, there wasn’t a single space between you that wasn’t filled with passion and desire

When both of you heard the tickling noise of the lock, Tokoyami held the door handle violently, blocking the way of any person to get in or out. “y/n-?” he breathed against your ear, he knew it was you all along and that made you want him even more“ would you like to carry on at my living quarters?” God, was it possible for deep voices get even deeper while whispering?

“Gladly” you cupped his cheek, taking the blindfold to admire a pair of red eyes softly looking and taking in every single feature you had up close, you smiled and so did he, gently kissing his beak again , you both stood up, got out of the closet hand by hand, ready for a more exclusive, round 2.

#bitch what the fuck is up #tokoyami fumikage #kissing prompts #tokoyami fumikage x reader #fumikage tokoyami x reader #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #giulia writes

27 notes · View notes