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gashinabts · 3 years ago

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peculiar taste| (m)

Words: 2.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, pwp

Summary: Unknowingly, you find out that your feet pics are roaming around twitter just to find out that your room mate runs the page.

Warnings: FOOT STUFF, foot job ( idk if thats a thing), foot fetish

a/n: There’s a lot of foot stuff so if that makes you uncomfortable then don’t read it. Btw if there’s other weird kinks/fetishes that you think a member would like just comment or message me.

Twitter is a scary place, you never had it until your friend from work told you to download it because there’s funny memes. So when you downloaded it you were not surprised that there were weird foot pictures. See you were not one to shame someone who has weird fetishes but this was different. Oddly enough the picture had the same pedicure as you and the same tattoo on your ankle. Deciding to go on the page you notice there were pictures of your feet, the black heels you owned were there too.

Is someone spying on you? There is a sudden noise from the kitchen and you jolt in fear, holding the phone close to you as you walk towards the noise. The fear disappears when you see your roommate slash friend Taehyung eating pickles from the jar. “ Hey, wanna go to the park? We can have a little picnic,” Taehyung munches the last part before putting it back in the fridge. “ What’s wrong?” He notices your worried face.

Shaking your head, not sure if you should tell him your worries. Taehyung would probably freak out more than you, he’ll probably call the FBI to install high tech cameras around the apartment. “ Nothing,” you smile. “ I’m down but I’m making the food. Last time you just packed onions and capri suns,” you move him aside to pull out bread to make sandwiches.

He gives you his signature boxy smile, “ Sorry you don’t have an acquired taste,” he shrugs.

---

When you guys get back from the park you immediately lay in your bed tired from all the running that Taehyung made you do. It was supposed to be a relaxing picnic, however Taehyung forced you to play tag with the children in the park. When you first met Taehyung you thought he was a quiet and stuck up person because of his emotionless face whenever he was sitting with people. But that all changed when you got to know him better, he was just a funny and weird person but in a good way. Needless to say you don’t ever want him to move out because he is just a fun person to have around.

The ping rings loudly on your phone, you get a message from your mom. You quickly text her back and then go on twitter to the foot fetish page to inspect it more. Maybe DM the person to see where they get these pics. Your eyes widen when you see a new picture that was uploaded a few minutes ago, your feet in your sandals that you just bought last week. Along with the picnic blanket that you use when you go to the park with Taehyung.

Jumping out of your bed you run to Taehyung’s room to demand answers from him, but he is currently playing Uno by himself. “ I’m trying to practice so I can win next time we play with Jungkook and Namjoon,” he places the green card down.

“ It’s Uno. The easiest game in the world, it was literally made for children,” you groan in frustration. Taehyung shrugs then goes back to his game and places the reverse card to the pile. “ That’s why I’m not here,” you shake your head. “ Why are my feet on a fetish page on twitter?”

His sharp eyes widen, you can’t tell if it’s due to shock or confusion. The brows are covered from his wavy black hair, lips parted in an ‘oh’ shape. “ Okay, don’t get mad. I have been posting you foot pics in exchange for money,” he puts his hands up when you throw his pillow at him.

“ Taehyung! I can’t believe you,” you sigh. You became a renowned foot fetish star without any acknowledgment. What if people start to recognize you on the streets? Now you can never wear sandals.

“ I should’ve told you but I knew you were going to be against it,” Taehyung gets, ignoring the Uno cards and going up to you. His large hands come together holding them in front. “ If you want to take me to the police I understand. But make sure you feed the racoon that’s been secretly hiding in the garden shed,” he gives his puppy eyes. You can’t ever get mad at Taehyung, no matter what. It’s like he has this power that doesn’t make anyone upset.

Sighing, you gently push his hands down to his sides, “ I’m not turning you in,” you say. His remorse features immediately vanish, now becoming gleeful, as he engulfs you in a bear hug. If he’s getting paid you wonder how much he is making off of your feet. “ So how much money have you made so far?” The bed sinks as you sit down on it.

Taehyung's finger scratches his head, trying to remember how much the thirsty people on Twitter paid. “ Hmm, like a couple hundred. I’m saving the money so we can get a new tv.”

The TV you guys had was found by Taehyung who was riding his bike around the neighborhood. An old man was giving it out and Taehyung called you excitedly asking you to bring your car so you can bring it back home. Upon your arrival you see an old blocky Sony tv that doesn’t even have an HDMI port. Taehyung convinced you that it was vintage and it would match the interior design of the apartment. “ Do people actually like that stuff ?” You ask while looking at your feet. What a weird thing to fetishize you think to yourself.

Taehyung's hair floofs as he jumps back on the bed grabbing his phone that’s beside you. “ Yes. A lot of people,” he quickly unlocks his phone. “ Look, this man was willing to pay sixty dollars for you to have a foot massage,” you look at the DM. “ There’s also other requests. Like you wearing heels, stockings, and other weird things,” he shrugs putting his phone away.

People pay money for this, and you guys do need some money. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little extra cash for stuff. No one is ever gonna find out that it’s your feet. “ Let’s keep doing it,” you look at Taehyung, whose eyes widen at your words.

“ Really?” Taehyung asked in a serious tone. Wanting to make sure that you actually want to do it not because of his stupid mistake.

“ Yeah, it would be nice to have extra cash,” you nod your head.

----

“ This feels really weird,” you flinch at the stickiness of the honey pouring on your feet. Taehyung makes a hand motion for you to keep pouring it as he films it on his phone. Your face is not in view so no one can see the weird faces you're making as the stickiness goes in between your toes. Just another weird request from a person. This guy is paying sixty dollars for this, so who cares that you are pouring honey on your feet.

Taehyung nods and gives the okay sign, ending the video. “ I feel bad that the bees are dying and we are wasting their precious honey on your feet,” he pouts before leaving to retrieve a wet towel. He tosses it to you so you can wipe the honey off before walking on the floor.

The wet towel doesn’t help much so you decide to wash it. “ Yeah, we should visit the bee sanctuary to give our condolences,” you joke as you run to the bathtub to wash your feet with soap.

“ That would be nice,” Taehyung smiles watching you wash your feet. He hears you laugh, “ Oh you were kidding,” he laughs along with you. The phone pings and he grabs it from his back pocket, looking at the DM’s. ***800 dollar request *** Taehyung reads loudly, eyes widening at the words. He reads the request to himself, heart beating fast because this is actually a sexual request. Also because this is the most someone is willing to spend on a video. For the past month it's only been under the hundreds that people spent on your feet.

Your voice startles him, “ What are they asking for you?” Turning off the faucet you give your undivided attention to him.

Taehyung gulps then scratches the back of his neck, “ Uh- he wants you to use your feet to fondle someone’s dick,” he coughs at the end. There’s a silence that washes over you guys. “ Yeah, I can just decline-”

“ Would I be fondling you?,” you ask. Taehyung tucks his phone back in his pocket then sits next to you.

Taehyung puts his hand on your shoulder, his eyes are looking at you seriously. “ We don't have to do this.”

It’s 800 hundred dollars that you guys would be missing out on.“ I want to do it. Our faces won’t be showing, right?” You really don’t mind just as long as Taehyung is comfortable doing it with you.

Taehyung exhales, nodding his head, “ Yeah no faces.” His heart beats faster as he looks at your feet.

***

“ Let me wash my feet one more time,” you go get up to use the bathroom one more time. Taehyung tugs you back down the bed.

“ You already did it twice before you came to my room,” he lets out a chuckle. “ Don’t be nervous,” he sits on his chair. He grabs your foot gently placing it on his thigh. Large hands rubbing your ankle to calm you down. “ I’ll give you a foot massage and we’ll go from there,” he says softly. There’s a different mood between the two of you. It’s not like the usual playful mood that you guys have. It's heavier, if that makes sense.

Nodding your head, his big hands rub your feet. Rolling out any tension on the center of your foot, you sigh not used to this kind of attention in that area. His hands are like magic making all the stress on your foot disappear. At one point you close your eyes in relaxation feeling your body get lighter. Immediately your eyes open when you feel lips kissing your ankle, his soft lips leave a few more kisses as your eyes meet his dark eyes. Looking down you see a hard on “ Taehyung,” you whisper. He puts your foot back on his thigh, “ Should I start recording?,” you ask. Your hands shake, bringing his phone into your hands.

Taehyung lets out a quiet hum, indicating for you to do so. You hold the phone tightly, pressing the record button. Last night you did some research looking at feet groping and you feel kind of confident. Hopefully, you don’t embarrass yourself or make Taehyung immediately walk out of the room. Your right foot teasingly goes up and down his thigh, looking carefully at Taehyung’s reaction. He lets out a groan when you get close to his bulge but goes to the other thigh doing the same action as before.

“ Baby please,” Taehyung's voice is hoarse. The pet name surprises you in a good way but you quickly remind yourself that he is only calling you that so your name won’t be exposed. His hand goes to your leg, running his fingers against your calf. Listening to his request you trail your foot to his bulge, lightly brushing the tip of your toes. He lets out a breathy exhale, looking down at your foot taunting him.

You never thought you’d be into this, maybe it is the position. There’s some kind of power you hold as you get to dictate whether you should make him feel pleasure by the pressure of your foot. The way Taehyung’s breath quickens when you apply more pressure, his eyes giving you a sultry look. Your foot applies more pressure, toes spreading feeling the outline of his bulge. Doing slow circles, trying to feel more of him. His hand tightens on your leg, “ Fuck, right there,” Taehyung closes his eyes for a quick second. The hardness of his cock turns you on, you feel the thickness of it beneath your foot and you know he probably has a big cock.

“ Does my foot feel good, baby?” You condescendly ask. His eyes look into yours surprise of your tone and question. His jaw clenching, looking hot and bothered, a new look that you want to store in your memory. “ Look at you getting turned on just by my foot,” you tsk in disappointment. Applying more pressure you arch your eyebrow still expecting an answer from him.

Taehyung hisses in pleasure, “ Yeah, your foot feels good,” he tosses his head when you rub your foot harder up and down his clothed cock. “ It feels to fucking good,” he whispers more to himself.

“ Take your cock for me baby,” you command him. Taehyung gives you a face of relief immediately taking his cock out of his pants and briefs. And you were right about his cock being thick and big. Now you just want to feel it in your hands and your mouth, actually everywhere. The precum is leaking, begging to be touched. The heel of your foot meets his hard cock, and he flinches but then immediately going back to your touch. “ Spit on it,” you look down, indicating Taehyung to spit on his cock.

He groans loud at your assertion, not used to this. Taehyung never sees this side of you, having a higher authority. You're usually compliant and listen to whatever he wants to do. He follows your words, spitting on his cock, as he watches your two feet come together cupping the thickness of his cock. Jerking him up and down.“ Shit shit,” he curses at himself for wanting to come right now.

“ It’s not even my pussy and you're already a moaning mess,” you chuckle to yourself. His eyes are downcast to the slow movement of your feet. The small breathy moans are getting louder, and you love the sound of it.

If your feet are this good he can’t imagine what your pussy would feel like. He wants to desperately ask if he can fuck it later but he puts his thoughts away trying not to moan your name loudly. The movements get faster and he thinks this is the fastest time he has ever come. “ I’m going to come baby. Can I come please?” He looks up at your face, and notices a dark gaze, and he wants to kiss the evil smirk off your face.

You wouldn’t be surprised if you creamed your pants right now at the sight of his begging and climaxing. “ Mmm, so soon?” You teasingly ask. Taehyung shamelessly nods, his hands clenching at nothing. “ Come all over my feet dirty boy,” your eyes watch carefully at his pretty bottom lip getting bitten by his teeth.

Before you know it Taehyung is tossing his head back, “ Fuck,” he lets out a loud drawl. His head Adam apple is bobbing and his pretty collar bones are getting more exposed. White spurts all over your feet and you keep fondling him until he holds your ankle in place. He finally looks down at the mess he made, surprised at how much he come.

You stop recording, placing the phone down the bed. There’s a towel next to you, you pull your feet towards you wiping the come off your feet. “ Can you kiss me?” Your head snaps to Taehyung’s question. His eyes don’t have the same lustful gaze but some hint of fondness.

Nodding your head, you are about to kiss him until you realize that you ate sushi about an hour ago. Fearing that he probably can taste it from your mouth you pull back shaking your head. “ Let me brush my teeth real quick,” you try to walk to the bathroom. Until Taehyung laughs brightly pulling you back and pecking your lips softly.

The kiss makes you swoon and want to kiss him more but he pulls away too soon. “ Why did you want to kiss me?” You ask him not wanting to get your hopes high. But your heart is already beating hard because it’s Taehyung who kissed you.

“ I like you,” Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly. “ Why did you agree to kiss me?” He asks you while holding your hand.

“ I like you,” you do the same gesture as him. Taehyung smiles and leans towards your lips and you clothes your eyes expecting a kiss until you feel him push you back. Opening your eyes you see him pull his shirt over his head, and you're surprised to his slightly defined chest and v line.

“ Even when I annoy you and cause nothing but trouble for you?” Taehyung looks down at you biting his bottom lip, a nervous tick he has.

You smile bringing his large hand down, pecking it lightly, “ That’s the best part though,” then pulling him down to kiss him.

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hysteriium · 4 years ago

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𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/�� ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

350 notes · View notes

herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle.

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea, how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once.

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction.

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

#dean winchester x reader #YASPOCREADERCHALLENGE #deanwanddamons2Kcelebration #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you

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mammons-tax-returns · 4 years ago

Note

How would the brothers react to a very punk goth Mc like platforms and all black and just the whole shebang he’s very nice but also will throw hands (there’s not enough male Mc your doing the good work my dude)

BROTHERS REACTING TO A GOTH/PUNK MC

Perfect way to start off the new blog !! Thank you for requesting, hope this is what you had in mind <3 (and that it’s not too apparent that i’m not super well versed in punk or goth culture ACK)

I hope that you guys don’t mind some being shorter than others, I’m still getting a hang of personalities!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Lucifer is probably one of the ones that’s into the style from the very beginning.

As soon as he sees MC, his interest is clearly shown on his face.

Sometimes, he’ll drop compliments on his fashion. Depending on his reponses, he’ll start getting more apparent with just how much he enjoys seeing his outfit everyday.

GIFTS!! He’s not mammon level of stacks upon stacks of gift wrapped boxes, but he’ll certainly stop by your room every once in a while with a new accessory he saw while shopping.

MC will probably notice that he is especially keen on chokers :).

Stares discreetly, but consistently. When Lucifer invites him to listen to music in his room, he waits until MC is occupied with something like a book or the music. Then sneaks glances at him to see how his clothing moves every time he reaches over for something, or how the necklace he bought the other day glints in the light radiating off of the fireplace.

He knows that MC is nice, and grows increasingly more and more worried for his sake because of that. The exchange program is important, but his treasure perpetually adorned in black garbs is significantly more prominent in his concerns.

So when he sees MC readily defending himself against some low level demon with no hesitation? Holy fuck. He starts to panic, but there’s nothing surpressing his respect for him, as it only grows stronger.

Although, it becomes very apparent that he’d have to do something about all of his brothers’ staring at MC.

Mammon is so into it. Like... So into it.

We all know and love that our tsundere boy has a problem with getting embarrassed, but how could he NOT get flustered everytime he’s face to face with an alternative KING

At first, he actually tries to tell MC how much he appreciates his aesthetic, but fails every time. Stuttering is a difficult thing to overcome when you can barely breathe out of embarrassment.

When he finally brings himself to actually get a compliment out, it’s accompanied with his signature bashful look. Downcast gaze and shifting posture and everything.

Upon recieving a positive response to his words, he takes it as a sign that he should start doing it more often. And so... That’s exactly what he does!

Compliments upon compliments, expensive outfits and accessories finding their way into his room, MC gets it all.

He ADORES the nice personality. So really. This MC is one of the people that Mammon can’t help but get along with. Nice, can throw hands, AND IS FASHIONABLE? Now you’re speaking his language.

They definitely get called a model power couple, even if MC isn’t a model.

Will definitely mention the idea of MC doing a photoshoot with him for work, but won’t press further if he says he’s not comfortable with it.

Levi geeks out so badly

So yeah, his initial interest in MC is kickstarted by his fashion reminding him of a badass video game character, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate him for who he is!!

He actually doesn’t know whether to be sad that he doesn’t have the same amount of fashion sense or to be happy that he has MC as his best friend that does.

But after a bit of positive affirmation from MC, he’ll surely settle with the latter. (and also hope for them to become more than best friends :). )

He finds himself subconsciously posting about MC in his socials. Normally it’s filled with “Lucifer just did (blank)” but now, it’s ALL about MC. Nothing else. MC fan account.

We know that Levi draws, and so I have no doubts that he would be drawing every outfit he sees MC in.

At first, he’s only drawing faceless figures in the clothes, probably adding his own personal flair. But as time progresses and Levi gets closer to him, he starts subconsciously conpleting the figure’s appearance (hair, face, stature, etc). And before he knows it, half of his pages are filled with doodles of MC.

But if he were to ever find out that MC saw his art, RIP Leviathan 2020

And who’s to say he’s not drawing him in... Risqué outfits.

But if MC says that he doesn’t mind getting drawn, then Levi will activate cute fanboy mode again.

He’ll ask him to model outfits for him as he draws, sometimes in cosplay.

MC would just be chillin’ with him in his room, and when Levi finally looks up from his tv after finishing an anime, he’ll sometimes gasp and immediately say, “Stay right there, I HAVE to draw this!”

Although drawing wasn’t and will likely never be his favorite thing to do in comparison to video games/anime, it gives him an excuse to stare at his best friend with minimal blushing.

Satan is good at hiding his appreciation for MC’s outfits. At least, he’s good at it to everyone BUT MC.

If anyone asks, he’s indifferent about MC and his dashing looks and fashion.

But as soon as MC confronts him... Oh boy.

Red-faced, he’ll compliment his clothing on occasion, then wave it off as “something everyone does”. Which is true, but we know that it’s more than just that.

Similarly to Lucifer, he finds himself staring at him secretly. Except, I like to think that he’s less careful about it. Often MC will look up to meet his eyes, before he ducks his head back into his book, acting nonchalant.

Not a single person can convince me that he hasn’t found a stray black cat and discreetly named it after MC.

He wouldn’t hide the fact, but instead would actually bring it up at the right time. Ex: Right before some dramantic moment like before proclaiming how much MC means to him. Both as the cat and human.

The cat’s collars are decorated similarly to the clothing that MC wears! Satan is a diligent worker (especially when putting lucifer through immense stress) and a lover of arts, so he’s pays attention to little details like that.

This is Asmo we’re talking about.

He ADORES the aesthetic.

It’s not something that he himself would wear, but damn is it appealing to the eye.

Once you get him started on all the things he’d do if given the chance to dress MC up in whatever he wanted, you’ll never hear the end of it.

(^ especially when he starts talking about the undressing)

He loves a monochromatic color pallet, but every once in a while he’ll push for a pop of color in MC’s outfit for the day.

If MC wears minimal/no makeup, Asmo will constantly ask if he can use his face as a canvas for makeup experimentation while he rants about his nail tech.

Asmo’s favorite activity is going through MC’s closet. He gets to not only try things on, but he also gets to know what he has to work with when choosing MC’s outfits for their days out together.

Knows the perfect boutiques to bring him to

“You know, the color black really accentuates your figure... And if you look this good with it on, I wonder how great you look with it off~”

Beel isn’t interested in fashion or anything related to it. He isn’t picky about the presentation of things (namely; food.)

So he wouldn’t be immediately enticed upon first meeting MC.

But that is not to say that he doesn’t find him VERY pleasing to the eye.

Our sweet boy is not afraid to express his love for those boots!! For the destressed fabrics!! He hangs around him often just so he can sit and ogle at how cool MC looks!! All the damn time!!

Asks MC to come with him to work out just so he could have some motivation by seeing him. And his GAMES. He’s gonna love to see him cheering him on in the stands.

Beel would admit that he himself couldn’t bring himself to care so much about his clothes or ‘aesthetic’ , and couldn’t imagine having such a consistent style.

^ And because of that! He’s dying to see what he looks like in other styles. Of course, if he doesn’t want to change out of the usual attire, just seeing him wearing beel’s huge ass jacket is enough.

Wouldn’t care to buy clothing items for him, but will most certainly stop by devildom’s no. 1 bakery, grab some sweets with that signature gothic devildom appearance and bring it back to the House of Lamentation for him. (Given that he didn’t already eat them.)

In comparison to his personality, MC’s closet isn’t very important.

Beel loves his kind nature! But he will always be there to defend him in any sort of risky situation, especially when any low level demons would like to try and take advantage of MC’s niceness.

Belphie is taken aback the first time he sees him. In the best way possible.

It’s like he just knows that he’s going to be interesting to be with just by seeing his clothing style

He actually probably assumed that MC would be very different from what he’s really like. (Like how people will assume that everyone who wears dark colors often are always sad)

But both to his surprise and not, MC is nothing but kind to him! And he’s kinda like 😳. Damn. Alright. I can get down to this.

Fashion isn’t his expertise, so he isn’t as forward with compliments. It’s mostly, “As long as I’m comfortable when I lay on you, the clothes are fine. Right?”

“I had a dream about you last night... It was like you were some prince clad in black chain mail armor... I suppose we couldn’t make that a reality though, huh? You can be my prince in band tees and ripped jeans.”

The only reason he starts dressing similarly to MC is because of how many times he’ll fall asleep beside him. He knows MC will probably offer one of his jackets or extra shirts, and that he’ll likely get to keep it. (He gives it back eventually, it’s just nice sentiment.)

It’s also kind of entertaining to see some of his brothers go ballistic in response to seeing him adorned in MC’s signature clothes.

#obey me reactions #obey me imagines #obey me male reader #obey me x male reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor

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cheeriecherry · 4 years ago

Text

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [2/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 2/8

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, one (1) mention of vomiting (nothing graphic), very brief mention of violence (also nothing graphic), your friends being concerned about you, hugs

You wake up the next morning with a very sore, very stiff neck. You appreciate your friends putting you up for a while, but between the two of them they had terrible taste in furniture. In fact, you’re pretty certain their couch is the same couch you three shared when you first got your own place together…

You sit up on the lumpy cushions, wincing when your spine crackles. When you move to stand you find that you can’t, held in place by previously unnoticed twin weights on your blanketed legs. Your heart rate speeds up for a moment, before you realize it’s just a pair of cats sleeping on you.

You carefully finagle your way out from under them, taking extra care not to rouse or wake them. One of them chirps and stretches, and you pause, but she quickly falls back to sleep, tucked up against her companion.

Once you’re free, you wander towards the kitchen to find something to eat. Hizashi had offered to order takeout last night, but you were nearly dead on your feet by the time you walked into the house. You’d gone straight to bed, and now you had to deal with the stomach cramps.

You search around in the pantry and fridge for a while, finding few things more than rice, bread, condiments, and a couple canned goods. It made sense, considering how busy your friends were, but it was also a little ridiculous.

“You’d think two grown men could handle some grocery shopping,” you mumble, and settle on some rice, eggs, and toast. Not your ideal breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

You prepare the rice and set a pan on the stove in a haze, still muddled with sleep. Once both are sufficiently rinsed and warming, you set the rice off to cook and plop down at the kitchen table, where you notice a folded paper sitting. With your name on it.

Curious, you flip it open, instantly recognizing Hizashi’s messy writing.

‘Sho and I had to head out early, but we didn’t want to wake you. You were tossing a lot in your sleep.’

You think briefly back to the dreams you’d had, if you’d even had any. You usually had nightmares, but oftentimes you didn’t remember them, only waking with a hollow and sinking feeling in your chest.

‘You’ve got free run of the place, so use and eat what you want. Be warned, there’s not a lot in the fridge…we don’t really eat at home much. If you need the internet, Sho’s laptop is in the office across from the bedroom. See you tonight around ten!

-H’

You smile at the note, the signature consisting of a single letter, with a poor rendition of a cockatiel and a cat beside it.

You’re glad they have each other, you decide, and glad they’ve gotten together. It shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise to you, Hizashi was always more interested in Shouta than he was you. Sure, he doted on you when you were kids, but when Shouta came into the picture his attention shifted. You admit you had been a little jealous in the beginning, but now…

Maybe you’d just supposed it would always be the three of you together. You’d never bothered with dating or relationships, aside from the feelings you harboured for your best friends. You never saw the point, always content and happy to be with the two of them, even if it wasn’t romantic. They had been your rocks, your safe place, in years past.

You hadn’t comprehended that your interests could be so drastically different.

“C’mon, shake it off, stupid. They’re happy together, don’t ruin it with your feelings.” You run your hands down your face, sighing deeply. The rice would be ready soon, so you might as well get started on the eggs.

You butter a piece of bread and cut a hole out of the center, dropping it in the frying pan and cracking an egg into it.

Egg In A Hole, one of the first things you’d ever learned to cook. You were seven when you’d first tried it, and Hizashi had been there as well. You’d been at your house after school and he’d claimed to be hungry, and you -ever wanting to impress him- had set a stool in front of the stove and made him the fanciest meal you could think of.

Looking back, you’re amazed you didn’t burn or undercook anything. He had claimed it was the most amazing thing he’d ever tasted, and for years it was a staple whenever you hung out… he’d hopped off that train by the time you were twelve, but every so often you’d still made him Eggs In A Hole.

Now it’s more of a comfort, more of you holding on to a time long passed. Things were different now, you were different, your friends were different-

“Shit!” you hiss, as the toast starts to burn in one corner, smoking up the kitchen. You turn the fan on and flip it over to cook the other side, sighing in relief when the egg doesn’t splatter everywhere.

You’re glad you weren’t sent undercover as a cook on your mission. Your skills in the kitchen are sub par at best, and where you’d been, nothing less than perfection was accepted. Anything burnt or under-seasoned would have been air for punishment; fingernails ripped off, palms cut up, thumbs broken. Anything that would further hinder work…and result in more punishment.

That was just the kind of person your target was. A rich american woman with a taste for torture, and a quirk that allowed her to feast on and destroy the hope in others. She had ‘hired’ you as a silent killer, despite the fact that she could easily kill people herself…or make them kill themselves.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, willing the thoughts away. You weren’t there anymore. You were here, with Hizashi, with Shouta. Safe. Safe.

You scoop the eggs and toast onto a plate, but your stomach has already turned. Memories didn’t pair well with breakfast, it seemed.

Once the rice is finished cooking, you wrap everything up and set it in the fridge for later, and continue going about your day.

—-

Ten PM rolls around before you know it, and your friends walk through the front door. You’ve stolen Shouta’s laptop from the office and moved it to the couch, where you now sit staring intensely at the screen.

The two of them watch you for a moment. If your stillness, posture, and bloodshot eyes are anything to go by, you’ve been like that for a while.

“You’re gonna hurt your back sitting like that,” Shouta says, kicking his boots off and wandering further into the house.

“In a second,” you reply, waving him off.

Hizashi sighs dramatically, crossing his arms. “She’s not even paying attention, Sho. We could be making out right now, and she wouldn’t even notice. Hey, watch this-”

“Hizashi,” you threaten, not looking away from the screen, “if you pull your pants down, I’ll shave your head while you sleep.”

“No fun.” But he removes his hands from his jeans anyways.

Shouta meanders up behind you, leaning over the back of the couch to see what you’re so intent on. “What’s got you so focused?” he asks, scanning the page you’re reading, “You were never like this in school.”

You remain stoic, missing the joke completely. “Conviction trials,” you explain, “I want to make sure every single one of those rich pricks I outed gets put behind bars. I’ve been scrounging news outlets since five.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” You sit up straighter, stretching your back and rubbing at your eyes. “I gave the commission enough information to put these people in prison for life! Why haven’t they been brought in yet!”

“You’ve only been out for a little while. These things take time.” His tone is gentle and concerned, but to your addled brain it feels more patronizing.

You fist your hair in your hands and tug. “I gave them hideouts, names, faces, addresses, bank numbers, concrete evidence against these people! A few days should be enough time to find them! They’re top priority criminals! They should be caught by now!”

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, jarring you violently out of your thoughts. You tense beneath the touch, electricity prickling down your arm, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Breathe,” he says.

You breathe.

He squeezes your shoulder slightly, comfortingly. “It’ll happen. Give the media time to catch up.”

You look away from him, finding a spot on the floor to stare at, and slump forward in defeat. “If it gets out that I was the snitch, too…”

The room is quiet for a couple beats as your words register, and the hand on your shoulder rubs soft circles into your skin. “Your partner…they were killed, weren’t they.” It’s not a question, merely an observation.

You nod.

“I can’t let them find me, Shouta. The way these people kill their targets-”

“You’re safe here, Y/N. Always. The chances of these criminals getting into the country undetected is between slim and none. Their faces will be plastered on every single no-fly list, every district wanted list.”

“They can do whatever they want, as long as they have the money.” You turn back to the laptop, continuing to scroll around various news outlets. “Even once they’re in prison, they’ll have outside connections. If they find out it was me who outed their whole operation, I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my life.”

Shouta lets go of your shoulder, and walks around the couch to take a seat beside you, knees bumping against yours.

“There are…resources,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “for heroes who’ve been undercover. To help them readjust to everyday life-”

“I don’t need a therapist,” you hiss, scowling. “I need…I need-”

A pair of hands scoops the laptop out of your grip, flipping it closed and setting it aside. But before you can complain, your now-warmed-up plate of food from that morning is set in your lap, and Hizashi takes a seat on your other side.

“If you don’t want a therapist, then at least take care of yourself, okay? Eat.”

Your scowl persists as you chew.

—-

You jolt awake on the couch at an unbeknownst hour of the morning, covered head to toe in a thin sheen of sweat. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re dry heaving into the sink. Nothing comes up, save for bitter bile, but you’re exhausted once the short wave of nausea passes.

You rinse your mouth and the sink out, and splash some water on your face. With any luck, you won’t have woken anyone, but when you exit the bathroom you nearly walk face first into Shouta, who’s leaning beside the door.

“It sounded like you were getting sick.” His tone isn’t accusing, but his posture puts your guard up.

“Nothing came out, so it’s fine.”

You wander back to the living room, hoping to leave the conversation, but he only follows.

“Why were you getting sick in the first place?”

“I dunno,” you grumble tensely, “adrenaline reaction maybe? Who’s to say why people puke.”

He’s quiet for several moments, observing you, your fidgeting, your agitation. You feel like you’re under a microscope, with the way he’s looking at you.

“What happened to you out there?” he asks.

“Stuff,” you mutter.

I got people killed.

“Stuff that gives you nightmares every time you sleep?”

“I don’t need a therapist.”

I don’t deserve to come back from this.

“Your sleep-yelling woke me up. You’re lucky Hizashi wears earplugs.”

You turn away from him and grab your water bottle off the coffee table, plopping grumpily onto the couch. Shouta hesitates for a moment before finding a seat beside you again. Warmth radiates off his body, which is pressed comfortingly against your side. You can feel the tension easing out of your shoulders in his presence.

“What’s so bad about therapists, anyways?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Lots of people need them. Hizashi and I have both seen a couple over the years.”

“I don’t need someone to tell me there’s something wrong with me.”

Shouta sighs. “That’s not what they do, and you know it. What’s the real reason?”

You silently curse his ability to read you like a book, to always somehow know when you’re lying. But…you’re not sure you could tell him the truth.

“I just…don’t like the idea, okay? Leave it at that.”

He watches you silently, searching in your averted gaze for any willingness to open up, but he finds only sadness…and shame. “I should head back to bed, then. Early morning, and whatnot. Try and get some more sleep.”

He rises off the couch, and without thinking you follow suit, and quickly envelope him in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest. He’s surprised for a moment, but is quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you tight while you tremble against him.

He pats small circles into you back, keeping you close until your breathing begins to even out. “Just…don’t let this go on for too long, okay?” It’s the closest you’ve ever heard him to begging, “I don’t know what happened to you out there, but you’re obviously suffering.”

You pull away slightly, tired and defeated, and nod. “I’ll look into it. Those resources you mentioned. Okay?”

You release each other fully, and he gives you one last pat to the head.

“Okay. Now, really, try and get some more sleep.”

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #yamada x reader #erasermic x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Space Between #it will get happy soon i promise #eraserhead x reader #present mic x reader

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if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years ago

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Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

#sobbe #wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #hogwarts au #fake dating #fic request #conflict is coming i'm so sorry #my writing #fanfiction

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sirowsky · 4 years ago

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The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Another day of side-effects where my head really hasn’t been in the game. But a little fun stuff to pass the time has managed to crop up.

So sorry for the tease ending... I blame the headaches.

Chapter 27

The Chef, Greg, had personally brought you extra leftovers during the five weeks you were living in the cell, training and learning about your abilities. He knew about your abnormal energy-consumption, and had become concerned when you never ordered more than a double portion of food, no matter how exhausted you were. So, he’d come to give you the leftovers one evening, and you’d explained that it felt like you’d be stealing from others that might need it, if you ordered six or even eight portions. After that, he’d begun saving all the leftovers every day, and bringing you that for the extra portions you otherwise wouldn’t have ordered.

“I may have to make Greg my Best Man.”

“He’d probably decline. He’s nice, but he does have standards.”

“Ouch…”

“He doesn’t know you, Cujo.”

“Okay, seriously, what is up with that?”

“It’s just an accurate description.”

“I am not a fucking dog.”

“Yes, you are. It’s just that, ordinarily, you’re a puppy. You just have that lovable puppy-face, with the eyes and the grin that can melt the coldest of hearts. And then, you bare your teeth and growl, and you look fucking terrifying.”

“I do?”

“Um – yes. Unequivocally – yes. It’s amazing.”

“Wait… you like my Cujo-quality?”

“I like that you have that side, when you need it. I like that it comes out almost exclusively to protect the things you love. And I have to admit that I like the fact that even the remotest possibility that William actually had tried something, elicited that kind of a response from you.”

“I was a little shocked at how strongly I reacted to that. Just the thought… I would’ve killed him, if he had. Not because you… belong to me. But because you were weak and unable to stop anyone that might have tried. Thank god William’s even more of a puppy than I am.”

“Will is more of a Greyhound.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know – sleek, effective, streamlined.”

“Okay, let’s just drop the whole dog-topic already.”

“And, just for the record – of course I belong to you. Ass-hat.”

He practically beamed at you.

“Ditto. Mama bear.”

You’d been talking while walking back from lunch, and when you got back to your office, Anita was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, with her signature scowl in full effect.

“Hi, mom. Wow, you’re actually in the office, it must be serious.”

“Fifty noise-complaints in the last hour – is serious.”

You both stopped smiling, and threw a nervous glance at one another, but she just huffed and turned to you.

“Have you had yourself checked out by medical, yet?”

“No… why would I…?”

“Because human beings don’t possess the biological imperative to breed, to the point where their libidos take control of their bodies.”

You had actually checked both your offices for cameras and microphones a good while back, and found nothing. And there weren’t any fucking flowers in your office!

“How the hell do you know that? Seriously… How?”

She just rolled her eyes.

“Get your ass down to medical. Now.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever it is, I feel fine now, which means they probably wouldn’t be able to detect anything abnormal, so I’m gonna finish my work for the day, and then I’ll go to medical.”

You walked over to your desk as you spoke, and as you sat down, you remembered something.

“And by the way, where you in charge of selecting my substitute while I was gone?”

“Yes. Petra wasn’t ideal.”

“You don’t say. If I’m ever gone for an extended period of time again, no one sets foot in my fucking office. Got it?”

“Did you just try and give me an order, loco?”

“I’m not trying anything. I’m telling you. No one.”

She threw you a kinda skewed smile and then turned around to leave. But as she crossed the threshold she stopped and looked back at you with pure steel in her eyes.

“4pm. If you’re not at medical by then, I’ll drag you there by your ear.”

“Try it. Please.”

She left and you sighed and looked at Marcus, who had sat down on the couch again, one arm draped over the backrest while he’d watched you take on Máma.

“Are you absolutely sure you feel fine? Because I’m all kinds of hot and bothered right now.”

“50 noise-complaints, Marcus. That’s half the damned building.”

“And like I said: fuck ‘em.”

“Please go away so I can think.”

“Only if you promise to call me the moment you feel any amount of craving. I’m serious.”

“You think I want to feel like that again? Of course I’ll call, and you’d better pick up. I don’t care if HQ’s on fire.”

“You have my word, famb.”

“You know, your list of nicknames is getting a bit ridiculously long.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started on the real one’s yet.”

“Real ones?”

“Prometida, esposa, amada, mi corazón…”

“Okay, okay, have as many as you like, jeez.”

“Which one’s your favourite?”

“You already know.”

He got up from the sofa and came over to kiss you before he left. His lips lingered long after the kiss ended.

“Hermosa…”

He was intoxicating. You put a hand up on his chest and pushed him away gently.

“Get out of here, gorgeous. Mama’s got work to do.”

“Oh, that’s mean. You know how I love it when you talk all husky like that.”

“I’ll call you if I need you.”

He walked away looking disappointed, but also kind of expectant, like he was looking forward to getting you back later. You smiled and shook your head after the door closed behind him.

You did get a lot of work done after that, and even if you were still miles behind from catching up to where you’d been 7 weeks ago, it still felt good to have gotten back on track. Especially on what had been possibly the weirdest day of your life. Which was saying something. Your libido stayed calm and behaved for the rest of the workday, but you did see Anita’s point in getting yourself checked over, and so you were planning on going to the med-bay. But at 3:30 you were working on your computer, looking up rare metals for an upcoming build, and you sort of stumbled over a site for wedding-rings. You were just gonna take a quick peak, scrolling through the various options, and getting progressively more worked up as you saw the price-tags. You were just about to leave the page and go back to work, when an ad in the corner popped up.

Wedding-dresses.

Fuck.

You clicked.

“If you thought I was kidding about the ear, you were sorely mistaken.”

You startled at the sound of her voice, and a puff of energy escaped you, sending papers flying everywhere.

“Thanks a lot, Anita. Why don’t you give me a heart-attack while you’re at it?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not my fault you were so engrossed in that screen you didn’t notice me. What were you looking at, anyway?”

Had half an hour already passed? You just clicked on that ad a second ago… And why was she looking at you like that?

“Just research.”

“Mhm. Let’s go.”

“Alright, just let me get these papers off the floor.”

As expected, since the event seemed to have passed, the medical exam didn’t reveal anything, and Anita seemed unnecessarily peeved about that.

“What are you so upset about? What exactly did you think they’d find?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“Never mind, my ass. You all but dragged me to this exam, and now you’re disappointed. So, spill. What’s the deal?”

“I just hoped that maybe… you increased enthusiasm was…”

“Was…?”

“Alright, most women experience increased sensitivity when they’re pregnant. I just wanted to be sure.”

You sort of half froze midway through pulling your pants back on, and your hands involuntarily went to your abdomen.

“Oh… I never even considered…”

“I’m sorry, niña. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I’m not upset. God, I don’t even know what I am.”

You finished dressing and sat down on a chair, letting your head fall into your hands.

“Eight months ago, I was just a designer, going on a fucking vacation. Now, I don’t even know what the hell I am anymore, much less what to do. Every time I think I’m starting to get a handle on things, something else happens and I’m lost again.”

She tapped your leg with her cane, ushering you to look at her.

“What you are, is my son’s fiancé. My granddaughter’s adoptive mother. You’re smart, highly capable and stubborn, kind and caring, but abrasive when the situation requires it. You’re everything you need to be. And that’s all you ever really need to know about yourself.”

You drew a deep breath.

“Do you think he made the right choice? With me?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Thank you.”

You called Marcus to let him know how the exam had gone, and he was just about to pick up Missy, so since you had your own car you told him you’d race him home. But you decided to stop by Amanda’s house on the way. You wanted to talk to both of them, but her place was closer.

When you walked in at home, Missy was in the living room playing a video-game with Noodles, A Capella and Wild Card. It had been a while since she’d had any friends over, and you smiled when you saw how much fun she was having.

“Hey, Alma! Wanna see me crush these guys for the second time?”

“Any day of the week, angel, but I gotta talk to your dad right now.”

“Okay, suit yourself!”

You laughed and walked into the kitchen to find him opening pizza-boxes and distributing slices onto plates.

“Hey, sweetheart, sorry, this wasn’t planned, they just spontaneously asked if they could come over as I was picking her up.”

“Honey, why are you explaining yourself?”

“I don’t know… it’s just, with the weird day you’ve had and how you seemed a little down after the exam, I thought that maybe you weren’t quite in the mood for a house full of teenagers.”

“No matter how I feel, Missy’s entitled to enjoy herself with her friends. I would never wanna deprive her of that.”

“No, I know. I just worry about you.”

“Yeah, I do too, sometimes. But that’s usually when I remember I have you, and it all feels better.”

He smiled and asked you to help him carry out the food to the living room, and once you’d done that, you sat down at the dinner table to eat yourselves.

“So… I may have googled wedding-dresses today.”

He beamed.

“Really? Did you manage to narrow down any preferences? Don’t give me any specifics, by the way.”

“I did, I think. Or, at least, I found a lot of stuff I didn’t like, so I guess that helps. I don’t know, I feel like I need to see them, touch them, to actually get a sense of what I like.”

He beamed even more.

“I really like the sound of this. I’m sure Amaire would come with you if you asked.”

“Yeah, I kind of already asked them to, this weekend.”

He was fucking radiating joy at that point. He got up and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom and closing the door behind you. Then he reached into his pocket and fished something out. His smile turned just a hint of insecure, as he held up the ring he’d chosen for you. It was gold-plated steel, with a single row of small diamonds sunk into the centre of the band all the way around. A sturdy and solid piece that wouldn’t break or lose its shape. While you admired it, he started trying to explain his choice.

“I know you’re not much of a jewellery-girl, so I figured we’d skip the whole engagement ring plus wedding-band. You can wear it right away if you want and then just take it off before the ceremony, or you can wait and put it on then, either way is fine with me. That is, if you like it? If you don’t, we’ll take it back and you can pick something else. It just felt right as soon as I saw it. You’re not the frail silver band type of person, and I know you’d only get annoyed with a big rock getting in the way and getting caught in stuff. You work with your hands and so I figured something sturdy but elegant. I have a matching one just without the diamonds. Please say something before I pass out from oxygen-depravation…”

“I love it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

You both beamed.

“Can I put it on you?”

“You better.”

He slipped it on your finger and it fit perfectly. And for the first time it really sunk in that you were gonna marry this man. The love of your life. It felt like a really long time until the kids went home and Missy went to bed, with her headphones on.

“I totally forgot, we need to go bed-shopping, honey.”

“I don’t know, a mattress on the floor might be preferable until we know the extent of your ‘heat-situation’.”

“Mm. Good point. Although, breaking in a new bed is always fun.”

“Hermosa.”

“What?”

“Stop talking and get undressed. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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maybeimamuppet · 4 years ago

Text

the first date

Damian wakes up to two wildly different texts, one from Cady and one from Janis.

Cady’s is about what he can expect from her; if not a touch more nervous.

Little Slice: Good morning Damian!! I’m sure Janis has already told you but she’s taking me on a date tonight and she won’t tell me where we’re going do you have time to come over and maybe help me put together something to wear???? love you!!

And then there’s Janis.

Janjan: dame can u come over today i’m taking caddy out tonight and i’m losing my shit

Oh boy. He’d been absolutely thrilled when they’d finally announced they were dating, but he should’ve known they would never make it easy on him. He decides to go to Cady’s first, Janis will need his support right up until she leaves to go get her.

He texts both of them while he has breakfast and feeds his little french bulldog, Pippa. He learns that Janis is picking Cady up at four to take her to the zoo, so he has a couple hours to kill before he needs to be with either of them. He sends a text to Cady letting her know he’ll be over around one, getting a thumbs up and several heart emojis in response.

True to his word, he knocks on the Heron’s front door at exactly one, greeting Cady’s mom politely before she shoos him up to Cady’s room. She’s sitting at her desk, still in her Lion King pajamas, working on what Damian can only assume is calculus. He taps lightly on the doorframe, wincing a little as she jumps practically out of her chair before snapping her head to look at him. Once she sees it’s him, though, she smiles brightly and rushes up to hug him, as if she had no idea he was coming.

“Damian! You’re here! I totally lost track of time, I was doing math to relax because Janis won’t tell me anything about where we’re going so I don’t know what to wear or how many people are going to be there and I don’t know what to expect so I’m nervous but it’s also my first date with Janis and I’m so excited and-“ She bursts out rapidly. He envies her breath control, sometimes.

“Whoa, little slice. Deep breaths. I’m here to help, she told me what she has planned and it sounds really cute. I think you’ll like it,” Damian says lowly, massaging her arms to help calm her. “There will probably be a fair number of people around, but I don’t think you’ll notice them and they will definitely not notice you. And I’m here to help you pick something to wear that’ll make Janis combust when she sees you. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Damian,” she says, resting her chin on his chest and grinning up at him. He gives her another tight squeeze before making his way to her closet.

“Oh, my god. Okay,” He whispers to himself once he opens it. It’s a violent clashing of various flannels and bright pinks, but he spies a few pieces he can probably work with. “I’ve never seen a lot of this stuff before! Most of this is really cute,” He exclaims, pulling out a yellow sundress that it’s definitely still too cold out to wear.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to go through and give stuff to Gretchen and Karen that I know I won’t wear. Some of it just isn’t me, and some of the fabrics bug me,” Cady mutters shyly, as if he’d ever judge her for that.

He would never judge her, but he had not taken it into consideration. “Okay, so what kinds of fabrics or textures irritate you?” He asks, flicking through what she has hanging.

“Um, wool or anything scratchy, certain kinds of denim, and most things made of polyester, off the top of my head.” That limits the Plastic side of the closet rather severely.

“What about corduroy?” He asks, spying a green overall dress she bought at the tail end of her time as a Plastic. The color is almost exactly the same as Janis’ favorite jacket, maybe he can coordinate a color scheme. She reaches out to feel it before nodding. “Groovy, now we just need something to go under it.” They’re in the midst of what’s known as “Fool’s Spring”, so it’s just about warm enough outside for her to leave her legs bare. He starts digging through her stuff again, looking for some kind of top to go underneath the dress.

“Did you just say ‘groovy’ in earnest?”

“Yes, I did, thank you.”

“I have some more stuff in my dresser if you want to look at those,” Cady says, decidedly moving on. He puts the discarded garments back on their hangers and closes her closet carefully before moving to root through the drawer she’s pulled open.

“Don’t you judge me, Miss Grool. Let’s see what we have in here,” He says, grinning to himself a little as he pulls out several of Janis’ hoodies. “You guys have only been officially dating for, like, two weeks! How did you already get all these?”

Cady flushes, nearly matching her hair. “She gave me one a long time ago, and it was so comfy I just... never gave it back. And now I borrow them whenever she’s not looking. But only the ones she doesn’t really wear! And I’ll give them back. Eventually.”

Damian laughs at that, knowing full well she won’t give them back until Janis notices they’re gone. “I say go for it, little slice. Payback for her stealing mine since we were little.”

“Aww, you guys must’ve been so cute,” Cady coos, stretching up and pinching one of his cheeks like a grandmother would. “I wanna see pictures soon.”

“You’ll have to fight Jan on that one,” he says, pulling out a black sweater made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt. “Holy shit, this is so nice. Is this one you can handle?”

“Oh yeah, that’s my favorite sweater, I forgot about that. Thanks Dame,” she says, taking it from him gently.

“Okay now go put this on so I can be sure it actually works together,” he demands, clapping his hands and shoving her delicately towards the bathroom. He knows it will, he just wants to see Cady in it.

She shuffles back in a few minutes later and gives a little twirl, holding her hands out to her sides. Damian pretends to take pictures of her like she’s on a runway, and they both start laughing as she goes along with it and starts doing various exaggerated poses.

After a few minutes of shenanigans, he checks the time and realizes he’s been at her place for nearly an hour and a half. Cady is very easy to get lost in conversation with.

“Are you gonna be good if I go now? I have to take Pippa on a walk before dark and run some errands for my mom,” He says, coming up with a little white lie in case Janis doesn’t want Cady to know what he’ll actually be doing.

She nods and comes to hug him goodbye, reaching up to squish his cheeks. He’s exactly a foot taller than her, so she has to reach just a little to get to him, making them both giggle. She gives him one last squeeze, muttering, “Give Pip a snuggle for me?” into his chest before pulling away. He says he absolutely will before wishing her luck and leaving her alone. First job done.

——

Janis’ ten-year-old sister, Juliana, opens the door for him as he steps onto the porch. Their mom must be running errands or something, she doesn’t work Saturdays.

Julie pulls him down to mutter “She’s a mess,” into his ear before running back to the living room with a squeak as Janis calls “I heard that!” from the top of the stairs.

“I’m not a mess,” she murmurs as she reaches him at the bottom, but Damian can tell her anxiety is getting to her.

“Have you taken your meds today?” He whispers into her hair, groaning as she shakes her head. “Janis Olivia, I swear. You gotta take those regularly or they don’t work. Go take them and get something to eat. I’m gonna go pick your outfit.” He pushes her lightly towards the kitchen and thanks the heavens she goes willingly.

Letting himself into her room, he sees the telltale signs of a stressed Janis. Sketchbook open to a random page on her bed, filled with rough sketches of a familiar little redhead. She left her phone blaring music on her nightstand, and he can see faint footprints in the plush carpet from where she’s been pacing.

Damian knows Janis’ closet very well, as she makes him pick her clothes for any important event. He has an outfit in mind already, but he’s a little worried about how Janis will react to part of it. He pulls out the pieces he wants, laying them on her bed gently as she waltzes in. She shuts off the music before turning to look.

“Pants?” She grimaces as soon as she sees what he’s picked. He called it.

“I know, I know, but hear me out. You can still wear your fishnets underneath, they’ll look cool with the rips. And, Cady’s never seen you wear pants before! All you’ve ever worn are your shorts and dresses,” he begs. He knows Cady will love her in this, and it’s in Janis’ comfort zone enough that she’ll still feel confident in it.

“Fine. Turn around, loser.” She grumbles, faking annoyance. He obliges, turning around and covering his eyes until she says he can look. He turns back to face her as she’s pulling her less-decorated green jacket over her black and white checkered crop top, and adjusting where the rips fall on her black mom jeans. “How do I look?” She asks, spinning around like Cady did.

“Bitchin’.” He says, pushing her to her mirror so Janis can see herself. She checks herself out, and Damian can see the grin growing on her face. She really does look great, if he does say so himself.

“Okay, yes, you did a great job, as always. Thank you,” she says as she turns around to hug him. “Now can you help with my hair and makeup?”

———-

Damian pretty much does her typical makeup, just with slightly less around her eyes. After he finishes swiping on her signature dark purple lipstick (and making extra sure to set it enough), they both start talking at the same time.

“Do you think the zoo is too cliché?”

“Can I try something different with your hair?”

“Do whatever you think will look best, Dame. I trust you. But really, is it dumb?”

He grabs her mom’s curling wand and gets to work after putting on a heat protectant. “I don’t think it’s dumb, I think it’s cute. You want to do something she’d like, and she loves animals. Caddy chased that duck around the park for, like, half an hour last week, she’ll love it.”

Janis bursts out laughing at the memory, trying not to move her head to avoid getting a serious burn. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous. We went out all the time when we were just friends, but like, what if she hates it? What if I’m so awkward she changes her mind and decides she doesn’t want to date me after all? What if I do something dumb and she gets uncomfortable?”

“And what if it’s perfect? Janjan, Caddy’s been pining for you for the better part of a year, and she’s been your best friend for even longer. If she hasn’t run off screaming by now, she’s not going to.” He says comfortingly, shutting off the iron and starting to run a brush through her two-toned hair. “Now hold still, you’re gonna mess it up.”

Janis goes stiff, holding as still as she can. He can tell she’s still very nervous, but she seems to be doing better than earlier, since she didn’t immediately try to contradict everything he just said.

He starts brushing her hair up into a high ponytail, asking “So are you only taking her to the zoo? Or do you have some other scandalous plan for later that you’re not telling me about?” to distract from what he’s doing. It was a valiant attempt that failed miserably, and she shoots him a look in the mirror.

“Um, if she’s not too tired I was gonna take her to that clearing by the pond we found a while ago to watch the stars. She knows all about that stuff,” She murmurs, fiddling with a scrunchie. Regretfully, it is the one Damian needs, so he plucks it delicately from her fingers and gives her the brush to play with instead.

He snaps the scrunchie into place around the ponytail, spraying it lightly with hairspray so the curl holds. He wipes some pretend tears from under his eyes, saying, “My baby girl, all grown up, going on her first date,” with highly exaggerated emotion. Janis laughs, shaking her head and watching her hair bounce around in the mirror.

——-

Julie manages to corral them into playing Mario Kart for a bit, Janis only being able to do one race before she has to go. She grabs her backpack and the large pile of blankets from by the door and puts her boots on, going to kiss both of them on the forehead and remind her sister to feed their cat, Pancakes.

“Get out of the way, Janny, I’m about to win,” Julie whines, kicking her lightly in the shins.

Damian cackles at that, saying “Yeah right, squirt. Have fun, Janjan. Make good choices and send me pictures,” Before also shooing her out of the way. Janis rolls her eyes at them as she locks the front door behind her and texts her mom that she’s going but left Julie with Damian.

——

Janis hears her phone ping as she’s pulling up to Cady’s house. She dries her slightly sweaty hands on her pants before digging for her phone in her bag, grinning as she sees the message.

Cady Girl: Do I need to bring money or anything??? I can’t wait to see you btw, I’m so excited!!!!!

Janis texts her back, telling her all she might need to bring is a blanket and reminding her to wear good shoes since they’ll be walking a lot.

She grabs the flowers and cup she acquired on her drive over and heads up to the door, knocking politely. Cady opens it with a squealed “Janis!” before she’s in her arms, nearly knocking the stuff out of her hands.

Cady clocks them after a few seconds, asking, “Are those for me?” and pointing to the flowers.

Janis pecks her on the cheek in greeting, answering, “No, these are for your mom. Damian said it’d be a good idea. This is for you,” and handing her the venti chai she got from the Starbucks a few blocks out of their neighborhood.

“Aww, Jan, that’s so sweet. Thank you,” Cady coos at her, taking the cup and calling for her parents. “Mom, Daddy, Janis is here! She got you flowers!” Janis flushes bright pink as Mrs. Heron emerges from the kitchen.

“Oh, hello Janis. Thank you, these are lovely,” she says, taking them from her before turning to Cady. “Binti, you know the rules. Home by ten and make good choices.”

“Yes, mom, I will,” Cady says as she hugs her mom goodbye, turning to grab her bag and the blanket she picked out. “Tell dad I said bye. Love you,” she calls as she drags Janis out by the hand and shuts the door loudly behind her. “Sorry about that, she can be so embarrassing sometimes.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. It’s cute,” Janis says, opening the door to her truck for Cady to be chivalrous. She gets in on the other side and chuckles as Cady sips her tea, cradling the cup as if it’s the most precious thing she’s ever been given.

“You’re wearing pants! And your hair is up!” Cady nearly chokes on her drink as she finally notices, reaching out to tug gently on a curl and watch it spring back into place. “You look so beautiful.”

Janis flushes scarlet again. “Thanks. So do you,” she mutters, grabbing Cady’s hand and kissing her knuckles, feeling the last of her nerves fading into the background.

“So do I get to know where you’re taking me yet?”

“Nope. I want it to be a surprise. Just enjoy the ride, Peanut.” Janis says, reaching for Cady’s hand again as she drives. She takes it and starts playing with her fingers, fiddling with her rings.

“Fine,” Cady pouts. They continue chatting quietly, Janis rubbing her thumb over the back of Cady’s hand. After a while, she goes quiet. Janis looks over to see her asleep, curled up adorably in her seat. Maybe it’ll be a surprise after all. Now she can’t see all the signs saying “ZOO” they keep driving by.

————

Cady still hasn’t woken up by the time Janis has paid for and found a parking space. She goes around to open her door for her, shaking her awake gently.

“Caddy. We’re here, it’s time to wake up.”

“Noooooo,” Cady whines, pawing indignantly at her hand and curling into herself.

“Yeeeees,” Janis laughs. “Come on, this’ll be fun!” She reaches over to click Cady’s seatbelt off, grabbing her hands and hauling her to her feet.

Cady rubs at her eyes blearily, looking around to see where she is. It takes her a second, but once she sees the big lion on the sign nearby it clicks and she jumps into Janis’ arms.

“Jay! We’re at the zoo?!” She squeals into her ear.

Janis laughs as she scoops her up, spinning her around a few times before setting her down again. “Yeah, do you like it?”

“Yes! Come on, let’s go, let’s go let’s go! I wanna go in!” Cady exclaims, bouncing excitedly as she grabs Janis’ hand and goes into a full-tilt run towards the gates.

“Caddy, Jesus, please slow down a little. It’s not even five yet, we have time,” Janis calls.

Cady stops suddenly, turning to look at her. “Oh, sorry. I got carried away,” she says sheepishly. Janis tips her chin up and boops her nose lightly.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you’re excited. Just do it at a speed I can handle,” Janis tells her, breathing a little heavier. Cady grabs her hand again, gentler this time, and starts walking them at a much more reasonable speed towards the gates.

——-

“Where do you wanna go first, Kitkat?” Janis asks, flicking through the map she grabbed once she’d bought their tickets.

“Uhm...” Cady hums pensively. “The aquarium?”

“Sounds great, that’s this way,” Janis answers, pointing down a pathway to their left.

Once they enter the dark building, Cady makes a beeline for the small touch tank, rolling up her sleeves and quickly skimming the rules before sticking a hand in, giggling as a little stingray comes up and brushes against her. Janis comes up behind her, putting her arms around her waist and bending down to rest her chin on her shoulder.

“Do you wanna feel, Jayjay?” Cady asks, holding Janis’ hands with her free one. Janis shakes her head, kissing her jawline gently.

“Nah, I don’t like touching wet things that move. Creeps me out,” she says, prompting a laugh from Cady, who reaches up to pat her cheek with her dry hand.

“We’ll have to go to the petting zoo then, I saw it on the map. Those are just dry things that move,” She teases, turning her head around and kissing Janis’ nose before moving to get some hand sanitizer.

Janis takes her now clean hand and leads them deeper into the building, towards a much, much larger tank that reaches the high ceiling, filled with various tropical fish. Cady goes up to press her face against it, pointing excitedly as a massive shark swims right past her.

Janis stays back for a second, sneaking a quick picture of her, illuminated by the lights in the tank. It gives her auburn hair an almost ethereal glow, making her look like some sort of siren. She puts her phone back into her pocket, deciding to paint the photo later.

Cady turns around to grin at her, gesturing for Janis to come look at the fish. Janis comes up, taking a place next to Cady and admiring the brightly colored fish swimming by. They really are beautiful, but she’s more interested in sneaking glances at her girlfriend’s excited smile.

Cady suddenly throws her arms around her, burrowing into her chest. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she mutters, resting her chin on her chest and smiling up at her. “I love it.”

Janis wraps an arm around her shoulders, brushing Cady’s hair from her forehead with her other hand before leaning down and peppering kisses on all the freckles she can see. She wants to kiss her on the lips, it certainly wouldn’t be their first, but she’s still anxious about doing so in public. Cady squeals at the sensation, smushing her face into her chest again.

“Janis?” she murmurs after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“Can we get food?”

Janis laughs, kissing her hair again. “Yes, we can. Let’s go find something.”

——

Once Cady is satisfied with her belly full of pizza, they make their way over to the section of the park with the African animals, which they’re both the most excited about. Janis has to grip her hand firmly to stop her from running off again.

Cady rushes through the gorillas and hyenas, prattling off every fact she knows so quickly Janis can’t really understand what she’s saying, but she nods and enjoys them nonetheless.

Eventually, they find themselves on a tall platform overlooking the giraffe enclosure, and Cady practically starts vibrating with excitement when she sees the sign listing all the feeding times. Janis looks over and sees the next one is in three minutes, wordlessly going to get in line to buy a bucket of lettuce.

Cady barely notices her absence, pressed up against the fence and admiring the tall creatures as they come up to get fed. Janis hands her a bit, laughing as one comes up directly in front of them and promptly begins to lick the railing separating them.

Cady proffers her leaf, laughing as Janis yelps “What the fuck?!” when its long, alien tongue pokes out to grab it.

A zookeeper comes up, informing them that their giraffe’s name is Georgie and politely asking them not to pet him before wandering off to the next group. They take turns feeding him and taking pictures of each other doing so, until Cady sticks her hand in the bucket to get another bit of lettuce and notices they’ve run out. She pouts sadly as they both wave goodbye to Georgie before returning the empty bucket and washing their hands at the small sink on the other side of the platform.

——

They go see the lions next, Janis’ heart giving a painful squeeze as she watches Cady stare longingly through the fence, pressed against it as close as she can be. She loves her life here now, but every once in a while her heart longs for her old friends. She stands there, watching as the gentle breeze ruffles the mane of the one closest to her, and as the new cubs chase each other around. She’ll see her own lions again, someday. She knows it.

Janis snaps another sneaky picture of her, sending it to Damian with a sad face emoji; he responds in kind with several more crying emojis. Cady doesn’t linger for too long, coming up to Janis for a quick hug before they move on.

Janis keeps an arm around Cady’s shoulders, squeezing her gently as they walk toward the elephant and rhino building. She winces at the smell as soon as they enter, but Cady doesn’t seem fussed by it. They walk down the hall to where the large windows are, looking for an opening in the wall of people blocking them.

Janis thinks she’s found an area behind a few people. She can certainly see fine. “Aww, there’s a little baby one. Look, Cads,” she says, pointing.

“Jay, I can’t see anything. There’s people in the way.” It is at this point that Janis suddenly remembers that Cady is 5’3 on a good day, and that she’s a whole seven inches taller than her girlfriend.

“Oh, sorry Peanut,” Janis says sheepishly. “Hold on a second.” She hunches over, gesturing for Cady to climb onto her back. She obliges with a giggle, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and resting her chin on top of Janis’ ponytail as she grabs her thighs to hold her steady. Once she’s sure Cady’s secure, Janis straightens back up.

Now that her eye level is a good foot higher than it used to be, Cady can indeed see the baby elephant Janis was referring to, cooing over it as memories of Kenya come flooding back once again. They walk around a little, listening to the recording of a voice listing facts about the creatures and the area they normally live in, Janis laughing as Cady confirms or debunks everything the robotic voice says.

Cady is still clinging to Janis like a baby monkey as they leave the building, burying her nose in Janis’ apple-scented hair and pressing a few kisses to the top of her head. Janis doesn’t seem to mind, though, adjusting her grip and trying desperately not to think about the amount of bare thigh Cady’s dress is making available for her to hold onto.

“Where next, baby?” She asks, freezing as the pet name slips out of her mouth before she can stop it.

Cady pretends not to notice it for the moment, murmuring, “Erm... penguins?” into her ear softly.

“Did you just pick those because they’re all the way across the park and you want me to carry you more?”

“Maybe,” Cady hums, squishing her cheek against Janis’ warm, flushed one. As Janis starts walking she decides now is probably an okay time to ask about the name. “I’m baby?”

Janis bursts out laughing at that, much to her confusion. “Sorry, that’s an old meme I haven’t shown you yet. I’ll do that later. If you don’t like it I can call you something else. I just thought it fit,” she mutters the end quietly.

“No I love it! Aaron never nicknamed me,” Cady says before remembering mentioning her ex on her first official date with her new girlfriend was potentially not the best move. Stupid with love. “But now I have to come up with more cute things to call you!” She tightens her grip on Janis’ shoulders slightly.

��——-

She’s spent the entire walk over to the Antarctica exhibit thinking of something to call Janis. “What about Jellybean? That’s fun,” she asks as Janis gently sets her on her feet again.

“Absolutely not,” Janis squeaks, turning away and pretending to be very interested in an informative plaque to hide how much she’s blushing.

“Aww, you’re all blushy. You’re just as sappy as I am,” Cady teases, poking her arm lightly.

“No I’m not!” Janis insists, gesturing to herself. “Look at me. Look at my boots, look at my hair. I’m tough. I’m a badass. Now let’s go see some fucking adorable penguins.”

Cady bursts into giggles. “Fine, mpenzi, you’re tough as nails. But you’re also going the wrong way,” She calls as Janis is briskly walking away. She freezes for a second before turning around and confidently going the correct way as if that’s what she meant to do all along.

“We are never speaking of this again.”

———-

They find a little bench just across from the exhibit, deciding just to sit and watch them quietly for a while. Janis nearly falls off the bench at one point, laughing hysterically as two of the penguins start fighting over some fish. She laughs even harder as an exhausted keeper comes out to break them up, looking as if it’s not the first time those two have gotten into it today. Cady’s not really paying attention to what’s happening, just grinning as she watches her girlfriend laugh so freely.

Once Janis has recovered, gently wiping tears of laughter from under her eyes, she takes Cady’s hand and pulls them up again. “Okay, you ready for best first date ever part two?”

“There’s more?” Cady asks. “But this was already so fun.” She pouts, wrapping herself in Janis once again.

“Hell yeah there’s more. I have a legal obligation to spoil you now,” Janis grins, leaning down to kiss her forehead gently. “Now come on, we can stop by the gift shop on the way out.”

———

As soon as they walk in, Cady spies a pile of stuffed animals, her eye going specifically to a lion one on top. She runs over to check the price, wincing as she sees that it’s nearly thirty dollars. Janis bought her entrance ticket, and dinner, and let her feed the giraffes, and she didn’t bring any of her own money. She puts it back delicately and makes her way over to where Janis is looking at various keychains.

“Hey, Peanut. Did you find anything?” Janis had definitely noticed her rush over to the stuffed animals, and her dejected frown as she walked over to her.

Cady shakes her head, popping up on her tiptoes to lean her head on Janis’ shoulder. “No, I was just looking. I’ve never been able to find my name on one of these things,” she says, reaching out to flick at one that says Allison. They have her middle name, at least.

“I haven’t either,” Janis says, leaning her head against Cady’s. “At least never spelled correctly. Anyway, do you want to keep looking and see if you find anything? I saw something over there I wanted to grab for Damian,” she lies. The pizza was much cheaper than she had anticipated and her student ID got them

both a discount on their entry fee, so she has a fair bit of money left over. She’s been saving her art prize money, and her mom gave her some to have fun with as well. Time to buy a lion.

She grabs a little bouncy ball for her sister and a pair of sloth socks for Damian. He collects socks, so that’ll make a good enough cover story for now. She snatches the stuffed animal from the pile, rushing up to the counter to buy everything before Cady can see.

She finds her again with both hands in the bin of colorful rocks, sighing at the texture before she removes them again. She jumps lightly as Janis comes up behind her, saying, “Having fun, Kitkat?”

“The texture is satisfying,” she mutters. “Didn’t think you’d find me so fast.”

Janis chuckles, coming up to take her hand. “Are you ready to go?” Cady nods, leading them out the gates and towards Janis’ truck. Janis checks the time once they’ve settled in, finding it to be just before seven thirty. Perfect.

She decides to stop by the Wal-Mart on the way to the clearing to pick up some snacks, Cady still chattering excitedly about how much fun she’s had so far. It must’ve been the tea that put her to sleep last time, now she’s got the most energy Janis has ever seen.

Cady seems a bit confused as they pull into the parking lot, but takes Janis’ hand trustingly regardless. Janis tells her to go pick out a snack she wants, and she nods quickly and darts off. Janis makes a beeline for the chip aisle, immediately grabbing all her favorite kinds before moving on to candy.

In typical Cady form, she comes back carrying only a case of strawberries and two bottles of her favorite sweet tea. “Oh my god, Jan,” she laughs when she sees how many bags Janis is trying to carry. She rushes off once again to grab a cart, returning to Janis and putting her things in it before climbing into the basket herself. Janis raises an eyebrow at her, but ultimately can’t resist the crystal blue puppy eyes blinking pleadingly at her and starts pushing it towards the checkout area with a sarcastic grumble about ‘certain people being too cute for their own damn good’.

———

Janis pulls into the clearing in the woods, telling Cady to close her eyes so she can get everything ready as she cuts the engine.

“Are you gonna murder me now?” Cady jokes as Janis grabs the massive pile of blankets from the backseat and begins making a little nest in the truck bed.

“Yeah,” Janis grunts as she hops up. “Took you out to give you a fun final memory.” It takes her a while, and she swears vigorously as she misses her footing on the way to grab the snacks and nearly falls on her face. She sets all their food up in the middle, and as a finishing touch, puts up Cady’s new stuffie holding up her phone, which is now playing music softly. Not too shabby, but she just hopes her girl likes it.

She goes around to help Cady down, making sure her eyes are still covered as she leads her around to the back before she takes her hands away. “Tah-dah,” she says shyly, but smiles as Cady gasps excitedly.

“Janis! This is incredible! And you bought me that lion,” she squeals, pointing to it. “Thank you!” is all the warning Janis gets before her girlfriend is in her arms, kissing her firmly.

She scrambles to grab her as she suddenly pulls back, saying, “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean- I should’ve asked first,” hastily. Janis sets her down gently before leaning in and pressing their lips together again.

“I appreciate that, but you don’t have to ask anymore, baby. It might take me some time to be comfortable with it in public, but I love your kisses,” She says comfortingly. “Now hop up here and snuggle me.” Cady uses her offered hand as a boost, wriggling up and picking up the stuffed animal to hold it close. Janis follows, getting comfortable in a corner she made extra cushy before gesturing for Cady to come to her.

She obliges, leaning her back against Janis’ chest and resting her head on her shoulder so they can both see the sky. “You don’t have to ask, either,” She murmurs quietly after a few peaceful seconds. “In case you were wondering.”

“Good to know,” Janis says, pulling her tighter against her and wrapping them

both up in another blanket. They watch the sun set in silence, observing the stars getting brighter the lower it gets.

“Which one do you like better?” Janis asks after a long moment.

“Hmm?”

“The sky. Is it better here or in Kenya?”

Cady thinks for a minute. “Uhm, both,” she says softly. “There’s less smog in Africa, obviously, so you can see more. The stars themselves are more distinct and you can see more of them. But everything just stretches on for miles, I could see everything around me, and it always reminded me how alone I was. Here I have you, and Damian, and so many people that I know actually care about me. There’s less sky, but more people to share it with.”

“That’s confusing,” Janis cracks in a ditch attempt to lighten the mood. “What constellations do you know?”

Cady takes her hand gently and uses it to point out what she can see, telling her the scientific names of all the stars she knows and the stories behind all the shapes.

“How do you know all this?” Janis asks after she’s pointed out everything they can see, turning Cady around in her lap to face her.

“My brother taught me when I was little, and then I just kept studying it after that.” Cady surmises, nuzzling into her shoulder and starting to stim with the ends of her hair.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, he-um. He passed away when I was ten. He was in the military,” Cady says.

“Oh.” Janis says. “I’m sorry. My biological father died when I was four but I still don’t... really know what to say in this kind of situation.” She mumbles, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. It’s awkward for everyone,” Cady comforts.

“Tell me about him,” Janis asks. “If you want to, no pressure.” She adds hastily, relieved as her girlfriend chuckles lightly.

“Okay, um- his name is Rhys. He was the best, he taught me all about science and stuff, and he always made up games with me when our parents were busy with their research. I used to get nightmares a lot when I was little, and he would sneak into my tent to cuddle me back to sleep before I woke anyone else up,” Cady recalls fondly. “I think he was a genius, too. He knew everything. He wanted to be a doctor, actually. We couldn’t afford to pay for all of his schooling, so he joined the army to get help with that when he was eighteen. He was almost at the end of his service when he died, he was twenty. My parents never told me what happened, all they ever told me was that there was an accident and he was never in any pain.”

Janis presses Cady impossibly closer to her, kissing her soft cherry-scented curls. “He sounds wonderful, baby. Sounds a lot like you, actually.” She says, nuzzling their noses together.

“You think? My parents say that a lot, but I never believed them,” Cady mutters softly.

——-

They continue to chat quietly as the sky gets ever darker, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Eventually, they go quiet, and Cady leans up to press their lips together gently. Janis sinks into her, tangling her fingers into curly auburn hair and nipping her bottom lip softly.

In her head, Janis knows that the universe is above them, stretching infinitely into nothing. But in her heart, she knows that there are just as many stars in Cady’s eyes, just as much beauty in her heart. Her whole universe is right here, in her arms.

--------

lol remember when I said this one would be shorter ?? oh well.

hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!

-ezzy

#cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #paint by numbers #janis x cady #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years ago

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Alright, so this is a bit later than I intended, but real life is a pain sometimes. And for those who missed the last post, that’s mostly on me for posting it at midnight, so you might want to go back and check for that - it covers the whole convo between Toshinori and Izuku on the rooftop!

But yeah, this is the final stretch, all the rest of chapter 1, so let’s hop right into it because it’s gonna be a ride.

[No. 1 - Midoriya Izuku: Origin]

Lookit that firebreath (I know it’s not shh). Also, again with the weird lack of crowds / people around in what should have at least a few stragglers. I get that drawing crowds / background masses is annoying, but in a wideview scene like this it’s unnerving. Japan is a high-population-density country, so… uh...

Izuku stares forlornly at his notebook, thinking about all the things people have told him over the past half chapter I mean day about being realistic and thinking seriously about his future. Izuku turns the book so the title faces away from him and starts tearing up, rubbing them away while he chastises himself for crying when he already knew he was being unrealistic, and that his knowing was what had driven him so hard to not see reality.

Overhead sign: 田 (den/ta) 等 (tou) 院 (in) 商店 (shouten) [business] 街 (machi) [boulevard, street]

Store sign: (コ)ネストアー (konesutoaa) [cornerstore]

Well, there’s the crowds, though still not able to account for all that empty street. We also see that Izuku has managed to wander his way to another hero fight despite not even really paying attention, and even though he tells himself he’s going to make himself feel bad for watching, he still heads over to join the crowds.

He snaps out of his funk when he sees the villain, asking himself how they got away, then realizes he must have made All Might drop it, which means it’s his fault (which kid, honestly, considering he just left those bottles in open flap pockets instead of holding them firmly in his hands, you are not the one to blame.) Also, he utters the ‘this is my fault’ out loud, but the people in front of him obviously don’t hear, distracted as they are with the reason the heroes are just standing around - which is the middle schooler the villain has.

Izuku has a brief flashback to when he was being violated by the villain, and is horrified that someone else is going through the same pain. We get a brief panover of the crowd:

Izuku and Toshinori are like, only fifteen feet apart here, and have the same reaction to the crowd’s commentary. Incredible. We zoom back in to Izuku, who is blaming himself for All Might not being able to do anything. He mentally echoes the same words as the heroes, that someone with the right quirk needs to show up to help catch the guy. He internally tells the captured person to hang in and apologies, saying someone will save him soon.

God I love this spread. This is everything about Izuku right here. You can actually see where Izuku shoved himself through the crowd in order to sprint forward, and you can also see the genuine fear in Katsuki’s eyes in that moment where he and Izuku locked gazes. Also I checked, he sprinted right past three pro heroes, with none of them reacting in time. Incredible.

Toshinori and said heroes all freak out, and Izuku’s panicking right along with them but is still rushing forward despite that. Death Arms and the bird-helmet hero both yell at Izuku to get back, but don’t actually go after him. The sludge villain and Katsuki both react as well, recognizing Izuku.

Izuku’s notebook hits the ground spine first, and we flash over to Izuku wondering what the hell he’s doing. The sludge villain moves to try and hit Izuku when he gets close enough, while Izuku pulls off his backpack and continues to panic-think over what to do… with the book just so happening to open to the page he ends up thinking about, on Kamui Wood’s signature attack from the beginning of the chapter.

He throws his backpack right at the sludge, all the stuff in it flying out as extra ammunition for the villain’s face to dodge, and while distracted, Izuku ducks underneath the strike and calls for Kacchan. Fortunately, the sludge has been forced to pull away from Katsuki’s mouth, allowing him to take a breath before demanding “You? Why?!”

Remember this for (checks watch) 284 chapters from now. Also fuck, I just realized, remember this?

'a pro should always be ready to risk his life'

'the reason I smile is to stave off the overwhelming pressure and fear I feel'

'a symbol of peace who saves people with a smile must never be daunted by evil'

Izuku took those words to heart as well, and is already reflecting them only moments after his dreams were crushed. And you can tell in the next panel that Toshinori heard those words and was slammed right to the core because of it, because he knows that kind of drive, that sort of spirit.

We see the villain going back to suffocating Katsuki, while telling Izuku to stop it. Toshinori calls himself pathetic again while powering up, and the villain tells Izuku to stop getting in his way, that it’s only a bit longer, and moves to smash Izuku out of the way. Inside the sludge, we can see Katsuki close to passing out. The other heroes finally dash forward to try to get him out of there in time, only for someone else to latch onto the arms of both kids instead.

That someone, of course, being All Might, still steaming from going into his hero form. He tells Izuku that he (All Might) should ‘practice what he preaches’ and reiterates that a pro should always be ready to risk his life (while blood seeps from his teeth).

I’m blown away by Horikoshi’s art in this, and this is where he started. God, just thinking of current manga events and the art there… this man needs to be stopped, he’s too powerful, I am going to cry doing comparisons and I don’t even have a clue about any fancy art terminology or the like, all I can do is stand back and be awed.

Izuku has had a rough day.

And here we see the force of the blow, which somehow didn’t blow away the crowds or damage the windows of all the buildings of the surrounding blocks. Jesus fucking christ. And then the remnants of the blow head upward, causing it to start raining because of the rising air current from that one punch.

How was all that shit not blown away????? A mystery to everyone. Also, Katsuki and Izuku are both passed out on the ground while the crowd and media go fucking wild over what All Might just did. All Might turns to keep an eye on the two while also wobbling slightly, the pressure of holding this form past his limits.

After that, we go back to narration from Izuku, talking and showing the cleanup efforts and the villain in two garbage bags (as he deserves). The heroes chastise Izuku for putting himself in danger (I want to note that this has nothing to do with his quirklessness as far as the scene portrays), while Katsuki gets praised for being tough and having a good quirk, and gets an offer to sidekick. Katsuki isn’t listening or just plain doesn’t care, too busy glaring… or not really? At Izuku.

We get a short scenery panel, I guess to suggest the passage of time, and then we see Izuku putting his backpack back on, thinking moodily about wanting to apologize to All Might but not being able to, so he’s planning on leaving a message on the hero’s website. Katsuki calls Izuku out, and takes a shaky moment before snapping at him, saying he didn’t need Izuku to save him, that he could have handled it himself, that he doesn’t want a quirkless kid’s pity, and that he’s not gonna get won over just with this and to stop mocking him. He then spins on his heels and stomps off with a last ‘stupid nerd’, while Izuku thinks Katuski’s a tough guy. He still agrees with Katsuki, though - he didn’t do anything, he didn’t change anything, but he’s still happy, and now he can focus on a realistic future.

And then All Might zooms into view, scaring the hell out of Izuku. Izuku asks why he’s there when he was surrounded by reporters, and All Might says it wasn’t hard to shake them off, considering who he is- before he hacks up blood and deflates into Toshinori. Toshinori continues on more calmly, saying he’s there to thank Izuku and revise his earlier statement, as well as offer a proposal.

He starts off on how, without Izuku’s story, he would have been nothing but ‘fake muscles and insincerity’, and thanks Izuku. (Izuku quietly muttering ‘fake muscles?’ here makes me cackle, because honestly, same.) Izuku tries to refute it, saying it was his fault from the beginning, getting in All Might’s way and daring to ask if he could be a hero despite his quirklessness- only for Toshinori to cut in and say that that was exactly it - out of everyone there, it was only the timid, quirkless kid who acted, and in so spurred him to action.

He goes on to talk about how the top heroes show signs of greatness as children, how many of them claim that their bodies moved before they could think. Izuku is shaking and clutching at his heart, hunching over and tearing up as he recalls his mother’s words, her apology to him. Toshinori continues, asking if that was what happened to Izuku, who replies with a yes while crying. He thinks about what he’d wanted his mom to say back then, and so we cut to the end of the chapter:

God, what a fucking great first chapter. I can’t think of another series I’ve read that hooks me in so well right from the start like this.

Also wait, holy shit, the anime LIED to us.

‘The story of how I became a great hero’, not ‘how I became the greatest hero’. There’s a massive distinction in there between the two, and Izuku’s character leans WAY more towards the manga phrasing over the anime phasing. He’d never consider himself the greatest, those would always go to All Might and likely Katsuki first, and then probably his other classmates and friends as well. He’d be happy to be among the greats, but he’d never consider himself on top of them all.

...huh, that’s the end, besides the one character panel that I’m gonna throw in a separate post. I fucking love this project so much, and I really wanna see what else the manga has to offer that the anime has lied to me about. This section went by a bit faster than expected, but I suppose that’s what comes from almost all of it being action, so. Thanks for sticking around so far, and let’s see what’s to come in chapter 2 together! :D

#chapter 1 #opening arcs #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #this went faster than expected #ah well that just means this chapter is done #(celebrate emoji)#man there was a lot to unpack in this chapter #I fuckin love Horikoshi's work

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w-h-4-t · 4 years ago

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Oh Sweet Maker, there’s two of them

Basically @mfmoonbear has an OC (an elf mage named Yelisavita Lavellan) and so do I (an Qunari elf mage named Fen’Harel Adaar). Now they’re here together in a story. A n g e r y co-Inquisitor AU here. Rivalry +100.

They get along. Sometimes.

LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

***

Due to its Andrastian nature, Skyhold was more than just a battle fortress. It was also a tribute to the Maker; the garden was often peaceful as the Chantry mothers swung censures while muttering the Chant of Light. However, Skyhold was also a refuge for all kind of people, including the polytheists of the Dales.

“DIRTHAMEN’S SHADOWY NUTSACK WHAT THE FUCK”

One such example rang through the courtyard as four pairs of feet kicked up dust mid-run. There was a race happening, as usual, between two very competitive people, both dubbed Inquisitor. Yelisavita and Fen’Harel got along well enough at first. Though their time together in Haven was drought with cat fighting they grew to mutually respect each other.

That, however, did nothing to stop their competitive nature.

It all started as a simple ‘race you to the War Room’ which was turning into an all-out mage battle royale. Both Harel and Yel made their way up the steps leading to the Main Hall, shoving each other before Harel caught the small elf in a headlock.

“YOU CHEATING BASTARD!” she screamed, making her face as red as her Valaslin, “LET ME GO!!!”

Harel switched her tactic, looping her arms around Yel before throwing her from the steps, “Make a barrier this time else you’ll get some bad bruises!”

Giggling like an ass, Harel continued up the stairs, hopping over several steps at a time before she felt something cold take hold of her legs. At once, the Qunari elf listed forward before catching herself, attempting to yank her legs from its new icy prison.

“You little fuckin-” Harel started.

“Fucking what? Cheater? I didn’t cheat first, remember?” Yel interjected with a smile as she jogged back up the steps, taking her time before stopping by Harel, “Aw is the Dread Wolf stuck? Do you need help puppy?”

A menacing stare shot from the half-Qunari as her body began shaking. Soon enough, the ice began hissing as little wisps of flames licked out from Harel’s skin, eating away the ice.

“I’m a mage too, you fuck,” Harel growled

Yel simply smiled, coating her hand in a slick sheet of ice before reaching up to pat the angry co-Inquisitor’s cheek, “Uh-huh, I see that. Have fun with that ice, it’s extra reinforced for shitheads like you.”

Flinching at the cold touch, Harel pulled back before focusing to burn the ice away; Yel jogged up the stairs, only turning around for one second to mouth I win.

Oh that fucking does it.

Summoning every drop of magic in her bones, Harel blasted the ice chunks away, scaring quite a few people and earning a far away cheer from someone in particular.

“BEAT HER ASS!!!!” Sera yelled from the tavern rooftop, “SORRY YEL BUT I’M ROOTIN’ FER THE TALL ONE!!!”

Hearing the aftermath, Yel turned around slowly, green eyes shining with surprise. Harel shook the chips of ice from her feet before giving her signature wide-eyed, wide grin.

“You heard her,” Harel said as she began clomping up the stairs, “I’m gonna beat YOUR ASSSSSSSS!!!!”

Now, Yelisavita was a powerful and highly dangerous mage. She survived a great deal of trauma and death. Crawling out of Haven’s ruins, she proved she was indeed walking in the Maker’s Light despite being an Alienage elf.

In that moment, however, Yel was a fennec in the eyes of a hyena. One would think she’d be careful now that she’d angered the other mage.

“Says the idiot caught in a simple ice spell.” Yel antagonized before leaping away, breaking into a sprint.

Summoning another bout of magic, Harel brought forth ice, Faade Stepping in a blue blur past the stairs and into the Main Hall. Unfortunately for Harel’s dumbass, Yel had caught on, Fade Stepping in tandem past her.

Varric had to hold down his many Merchant’ Guild letters as the two flew past, his hands gripping the many pages tightly, “HEY! Can’t a dwarf do some paper mache in peace?”

Back to shoving each other, Harel and Yel scrapped with Yel’s hands around Harel’s horns and Harel’s own trying to push the elf away.

“NO!” they shouted together at Varric, on the same page for once.

The black bones of Harel’s horns began to smoke as Yel funnelled fire into her hands.

‘YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Harel said before finally pushing her off, “Did you just try to burn off my fucking horns??!!!”

Harel in turn pushed the office doors open, noticing the absence at the desk before breaking into a sprint. Kicking in the office exit, Harel opened the door just in time to see Yel cracking the War Room entry open.

Using the opportunity, Yel took off once more, diving through the Ambassador’s office towards the War Room.

“GET BACK HERE!!!!”

Instead of saying some crude quip, Harel continued running, pulling magic from her body once more to Fade Step, meeting Yel halfway as she flew forward in a blue streak. The Alienage elf turned back at the last second, her green eyes once again wide in surprise as Harel leapt forward, grabbing Yel and sending them both tumbling through the door. They rolled, pulling each other’s hair and scrabbling like wet cats before someone cleared their throat.

“Good day, Inquisitors,” Cullen said, raising his voice to cut off the tail end of their argument, “I see everyone is in high spirits.”

For a moment, the two stayed the way they were with Yel’s hands around Harel’s throat and Harel’s hand pushing Yel’s face back.

Releasing her grip, Yel pushed Harel’s face back, shoving her into the ground before getting up. She gave a great smile as she dusted herself off, moving to take her place at the War Table.

“Good day, Commander,” she said with a smile, a light blush painting pink shades around her Valaslin.

Cullen smiled back, gripping the pommel of his sword before looking away, also blushing just a bit.

“FUCKIN-” Harel shouted as she moved off the ground, interrupting what was supposed to be a lovely moment, “I will put my foot so far up your a-”

Another throat cleared, this time, from the very end of the War Table.

“Harel,” Josephine assuaged, “I will kindly ask that you show a modicum of decorum. Thank you.”

Scrunching up her face, Harel looked between Yel and Josephine, at first settling on the elf’s smug grin before staring at the lovely Antivan.

“Lucky little fuck,” Harel muttered as she took her place next to Yel, “Damn fuckin lucky that Josie’s here or else I’d-”

“You’d what? Cry at me, wolf?” Yel replied, her smug grin only growing wider.

And once again, the flames of rivalry grew, fanning into an inferno as static crackled in Harel’s palms and fire spun around Yel’s body.

“YOU ARE NOT CHILDREN” Leliana shouted, clapping her hands, her eyes glistening like vicious sapphires, “So for Andraste’s sake, stop fighting like infants! Behave yourself!”

Yel and Harel differed in many ways but there was one thing they agreed on. Leliana was scary and when that Orlesian had enough of their shit, it was time to stand straight, shut up and do their job.

“E-emerald Graves,” Harel stuttered, looking at Yel, “Thinking we could go to the Graves to do...do that thing…”

Yel nodded before staring at the map, trying her best not to look up at Leliana, “We should go to the Hissing Waste’s actually but sure….sure….The Graves sounds...important too.”

At the opposite end of the table, Josephine sidled up to Cullen, finishing the last flourish of her letter before whispering, “ Our paramours continue to be interesting, do they not?” she dips the quill in ink, writing another line, “However, it would be preferable if they did not fight so much. It is indeed troubling for our reputation when they scrap in the public eye.”

Cullen sighs as he looks at Yel, watching her brush back a strand of strawberry blonde hair before pushing a map marker away from Harel’s hand, “ They’re not so bad, Ambassador. My sisters and I fought in a similar way, but because we hated each other. I think they’ll be fine.”

Turning away from her clipboard, Josephine looked at Harel who continued trying to pick up the map marker, only to have it shoved away, “Perhaps you are correct. Maybe they are growing to be friends.”

“IF YOU PUSH THAT MARKER ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR ON ANDRUIL’S SWEATY TIT’S I’LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!!!!”

“Oh, you want to lose again, pup? Don’t go crying to your prissy little bedbuddy -I mean no disrespect Ambassador- ” Yel stops for a moment, looking at Josephine before turning to Harel once more, “when I tan your hide faster than you can say Mythal.”

“Inquisitor-” Cullen starts before Harel shoots a glare at him.

“Don’t even try it, Curly!”

“DON’T TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!” Yel shouts back, giving the taller half-elf a shove.

And once more, a fight broke out in the War Room as all three Advisors watched the pair roll around on the floor. One would say they were akin to a wolf and a lioness fighting when in fact they were just two aggressive nugs duking it out.

Today was just one of those days where they didn’t get along more than usual. Hopefully, soon they’d be back to some kind of mutual idiocy with Yel on Harel’s shoulders, steering the half-Qunari around by the horns before they’d both fall down some hill.

Josephine and Cullen, though different in many aspects both thought the same thing as they watched their other halves fight.

Maker help me and my competitive girlfriend.

#Harel: *breathes* Yel: (+999 Rivalry)#birds of a feather fight forever #dragon age ocs #Yelisavita Lavellan #Fen'Harel Adaar #dragon age fic #dragon ag drabble #dai fanfic #da:i fanfic #mage inquisitor #inquisitors #Qunari elf #elf inquisitor #qunari inquisitor

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pluto-art · 4 years ago

Text

Syncytium - Chapter 3

Title: Syncytium - Chapter 3 - Sodium Bicarbonate Words: 7,115 Rating: T

Fan Fiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/3/Syncytium

As always, I recommend the fan fiction version, which includes all italics. Other than that, enjoy the full story below the cut!

September 16th, 1993 - 11:48 PM

Two little feet raced pitter-patter down a chatter-filled hallway in A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, its occupant laden with pen and petition, eagerly calling out to any hapless individual that came her way as that ever-present tam-o-shanter bounced atop her head.

"Signatures! Come put down your signatures! Sign the petition! Bring baseball back to A.C.M.E.!" Olivia called out, her little jingle ringing in its thick Scottish accent down the corridor and bouncing off the walls. "Baseball for all! Hear you shout! Let them know or we'll strike out!"

Like a fuzzy brown bullet she shot through the school, passing students and teachers, janitors and gym instructors, nearly running into the wall on two occasions, and receiving a sharp reprimand of "Watch it!" or "Land sakes!" from those whose book pages and scarves she ruffled on her flight down the hallways.

"Let your voice be heard! Put your name down! Have a- OOF!"

Olivia gasped as she landed on the hard, linoleum floor, having been knocked back by something tall and firm. She shook her head and looked up... and up... and up, into the stern face of Basil, teacher of Advanced Science and Deduction. Even for a mouse he was rather lanky, towering above Globetrotter and practically a giant to Olivia. The only other mouse in the school who reached his height was Pinky. He glared at her, one eyebrow cocked in silent judgement as he peered down from above, a great slab of papers cradled snugly against his side.

"Oh...," Olivia mumbled, gulping as she quickly stood up, face scrunching, and shook off her clothes, her little tam-o-shanter and petition laying very sorrowfully at her feet.

Basil sighed.

"Young lady," he began, bending down to pick up her hat and place it securely back on her head. "This is the third time this week we've met under unnecessarily chaotic circumstances and it's become... rather an interference in my daily schedule. Would you kindly keep harnessed certain frivolities at play, Miss Flabbergast?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Basil," Olivia muttered shyly, and not unkindly. "I'll be more careful."

She picked her clipboard with petition up off the floor, a little embarrassed.

"Sign my petition...?" she ventured, holding up the paper for Basil to see. He bent down to get a closer look at it.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"It's for a baseball stadium!"

"Baseball stadium?"

"Yes!" Olivia said, nodding excitedly. "So we can get sports back to the school!"

"Sports?" Basil nipped, practically spitting out the word as though it was a nasty slur. "Miss Flim-Flam, the last thing this university of science and culture needs is a bunch of dimwitted degenerates galloping about chasing after a ball. You'd do better to abandon the whole matter, in my opinion."

Olivia hung her head.

"But I doubt it will amount to anything," he continued, picking lint off his cardigan in a snooty fashion. "The most you could hope for is ten signatures, at least. Continue on your hapless venture if you must."

"Really?!"

"Yeeees yes yes. Now, run along."

"Thank you, Mr. Basil! I'll get more than ten. You'll see!"

"Jolly good," Basil replied curtly, sarcastically, pausing to flick a piece of dirt off Olivia's jacket. "Good day to you."

Olivia watched him as he went, his long shoes snapping click, click, click against the floor. She drew out a long breath of utter relief. Basil was fairer than Globetrotter. Anyone was fairer than Globetrotter. However, he still could get a bit cross when rubbed the wrong way, and it certainly wasn't the first time she'd gotten on his irritable side. She'd have to be more careful.

And so, as she continued her trek down the school hallways, calling out as she went (a bit more quietly this time), she jogged rather than sprinted, slipping between passerby with an "Excuse me" or "Pardon" and taking extra precaution not to bump into any more teachers, especially Globetrotter...

"Petition! Come you all and sign! Redefine!"

Maisy tossed Olivia an annoyed glance as she ran past, huffing a little and flipping back her hair as she dug through her locker.

"Since when did the principle allow kids to run around the school? I didn't think he'd be cool with that," she muttered.

Next to her, a chocolate-furred mouse leaned against his adjacent locker, deep in silent conversation as he texted rapidly on his phone.

"Why do you care?" he asked, not looking up at her.

"I dunno. It's just... This is like... a high-profile university, right? There shouldn't be any kids."

"We're kids."

"Um... Excuse me. I'm like... nineteen."

"Yeah. That's young, Maisy."

"Whatever," she spat, flicking her hair back again as she found what she was looking for: a red pencil with yellow flower print slapped all over it.

"Olivia is Flaversham's daughter," Gadget spoke from across the hall at her own locker, snapping her bulbous goggles atop her head as a matter-of-fact. "Everyone knows that." Tillie nodded next to her.

"Okay, but, like...," Maisy continued, pulling out a journal and tucking it under her arm, "... he works. When does he have time to watch her? He just lets her run around the school?"

"Well, isn't Mrs. Judson her nanny?" Tillie offered helpfully, albeit rather quietly. "I think that-"

Several students sprinted by. Tillie paused to let them pass before continuing.

"I think that she watches her in the nurse's office most of the day and lets her run errands."

"Yeah, but-," Maisy began, before being cut off herself as another batch of students trundled by, and then another. "But that doesn't give her leave to just-" More students. "To just run around whenever she-" Even more students. By this point, she could barely even see Gadget and Tillie. "Oh my gosh! I hate not having neighboring lockers!"

"It's lunchtime, Maisy," the male mouse said beside her, closing his phone with a sharp snap. "We should get going."

"Ugh. Fine. I'm starving anyway."

And so off they went, quartet heading for the cafeteria at the prompt hour of 12:00 PM, taking care not to bump into anyone as they entered the huge room.

Unlike the rest of the school, this area was terribly outdated. Or, rather, it had none of the classiness that the majority of the facility offered. Far from being dressed up in a mahogany coat, with comfortable seating, double-pane windows, and classical music that pumped itself like oxygen through the more casual areas of the building, the cafeteria resembled nothing less than something vomited out of an 80s shopping mall. The blue and purple paneling; the flashing neon food signs; the Whitney Houston music trapped perpetually within the speakers. It had it all. Students called it "The Flashback" or "The Blot", depending on who you talked to. The space had been heavily renovated a decade ago in an attempt to reflect the aesthetic at the time, and if the principal in office hadn't been ousted at the time for his radical ways the facility may very well have looked quite different by this point. As it stood, the cafeteria was an eye sore for some, a breath of fresh air for others, and it was a popular spot in which to congregate. If nothing else, the music was a relief. There was only so much Chopin one could take.

Chatter filled the dining area as the quartet entered. Already the tables were filling up, the smell of pizza and dumplings heavy in the air. Once upon a time, the food had reflected the decor: posh, healthy, and expensive. And then, of course, the cafeteria had been renovated, and with it the menu. No one had ever bothered to change the hot dogs back to ham; the grilled cheese back to caviar. Lemon sherbet tasted much better than shitake, and the students liked it that way.

"Think they're gonna have the jelly sauce again today?" Gadget asked, standing up on tip-toe to peer over at the food counter.

"Ew. Gosh. I hope not. That stuff is gro- HO MY GOSH," gasped Maisy.

"What?" Gadget asked, looking around, eyes wide. She hoped another wasp hadn't broken into the cafeteria again. Two had welcomed themselves in in the last week and she didn't think she could handle the stress another day.

"He's here," Maisy stressed, clutching at her heart and grabbing hold of Gadget's shoulder rather tightly.

Tillie and Gadget followed her gaze all the way across the floor to the food bar. There stood Pinky, dressed today in lab pants and a blue and gray striped shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Had it not been for the ridiculously long white lab pants that spilled over his shoes, Gadget thought he might have looked rather fetching. As it stood, though, he didn't. Maisy thought otherwise.

"Ugh. He's so hot."

"So hot he melts your brains?" the male mouse quipped, back to texting on his phone.

Maisy shot him a nasty look. Tillie didn't even notice.

"Wow. Clam chowder special," she mused, completely serious as she stared, astonished, at the counter.

"You're focusing on the food?!" Maisy exclaimed, flabbergasted. Tillie remained oblivious.

"Oh, I hope Mrs. Brisby isn't too early today. I rather like lunch break...," Tillie mused, loosening her shawl a little.

"But you also like her classes," said Gadget, smiling.

"I do. They're fun."

"Learning about weeds is fun?" asked Maisy.

"Agriculture is more interesting than you think it would be! You should try it sometime. It's fun!"

"Tillie, the only fun thing about this school is the lunch break."

The dark-furred he mouse with them rolled his eyes, his hands in his pockets.

"Seriously, Maisy? Not even the Chemistry class is interesting?" he mentioned, incredulous.

"Okay, well, that is a little bit interesting..."

The he mouse sighed.

"You're incredible. Our parents are paying good money for this school. You should be grateful. Come on. Let's stake a seat."

A few tables down, a gaggle of mice, moles, and a rat or two sat, chattering loudly. One of them, a black-haired mouse in a frilly, once-piece dress, sash around the middle and dark hair tied up in a bun, stood up in her chair and waved in their direction.

"Maaaaaaisy, girl! Come on! We've been waiting for you!"

"GIIIIRL! I was just about to ditch these losers! Gimme a sec!" Maisy called back, beaming. "Sorry, guys. I gotta go."

"Wha-..? But I thought we were gonna-" the male mouse began, taken aback.

"Sorry, Dex. I forgot I'd promised Marvell I'd be here at noon. We'll catch up later, I promise. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sure...," Dex shrugged dejectedly.

"Thanks, Dex. Bye, y'all!" said Maisy, and she ran off to join the loquacious group.

"Bye, loser!" Gadget joked back, shaking her head. "Airhead."

"Remind me why we hang out with her again?" Tillie asked, as the remaining three headed for the food bar.

Gadget shrugged.

"She's been my friend since middle school. I'd feel weird just ditching her."

"You wouldn't be missing much," Dex muttered, although there was a hesitancy in his voice.

Gadget threw him a sideways glance as she grabbed a tray, Tillie and Dex following suit.

"You know that's not true, Dex. She's a bit into herself, but you know she loves you."

Dex shrugged.

One by one, a steady line of students at the bar filed past the counter, picking off a box of salad here, a cup of macaroni there. Things reached a stand still at the chili bowl. Dex and Gadget stood up on tip-toe for a couple seconds, flattened back out on their feet, stared at each other, and rolled their eyes, sniggering. But of course...

The hold up, as per the norm, was Pip, one of the restaurant hands and the only chipmunk in the entire school. He was terribly chatty, not to mention contentious if you dared complain about any aspect of the food. Either something was wrong and he needed to comment on it, or someone he recognized as a friend had just crossed his path. Judging by the chipper tone of his voice, Gadget guessed it was the latter today.

"So what's with this petition? Lemme see that paper, sister!"

And he whipped from someone's hand a petite clipboard entrusted with several sheets of lined paper. He read through it quickly, nose almost touching the paper.

Gadget, Dex, and Tillie peered around the crowd ahead of them to see who had handed him the paper. Oh. Naturally.

There stood Olivia, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as Pip perused her petition, a wide, expectant smile on her face. Was there no place she wouldn't invade?

"Hmmm," Pip mused, tapping his foot a mile a minute as his keen eyes roved over the paper one more time. "Weeeeeeell, I don't usually sign these things, buuuuut... baseball sounds like a worthy cause. Ya' got a pen?"

"Here you go!" Olivia squeaked happily, extracting from the inside of her coat pocket a blue pen and offering it to Pip. He took it swiftly and signed the petition just as fast.

"Just make sure you get me a position as umpire!" Pip said, handing her back the petition and pen.

"Oh, I will! Thank you!"

"Say, uhhhh... how many signatures you got on that thing so far?"

"Twenty-three!"

"Heeeeeey. That's not bad!"

"Come on, Pip!" a student piped up, brows furrowed.

"Yeah, we've got class!" a girl vole squeaked from behind the trio.

"All right, all right already! Sheesh!" Pip nipped back, rolling his eyes. "Hey. You keep gettin' those John Hancocks, okay?" he said, winking at Olivia.

"Um... Okay!"

And with that, she was off, not even bothering to grab an apple or a cracker, something that others cast glances at her for. Olivia passing up an opportunity to nab some food? She must mean business...

"She's so cute," Gadget mused, watching Olivia sprint around, on the hunt for more signatures, as she moved up a couple steps in line.

"Yeah," Dex said, arms folded. "She's a trip." Despite himself, he smiled after her. Little kids amused him sometimes, even if they could be a bit pesky underfoot.

As more students spilled into the cafeteria, fingers pointed, some quite shamelessly, in the direction of the food bar. Dex followed the invisible lines to a spot some paces behind them in line. But of course. They were all directed at the new teacher, Ronald Pinkus. The girls seemed particularly smitten, giggling and whispering and acting, in Dex's mind, perfectly idiotic. In fact, come to think of it, as he looked about the room, most of the girls were in deep conversation, their eyes trained on the same subject in the room, including Maisy's group. He shook his head. This was a university, not a middle school. Daftness came in all ages, he supposed.

"What?" Gadget queried, taking notice of the furrowed brow and the folded arms.

"Nothing," Dex muttered, shuffling forward a few paces as the line moved ahead. Both he and Gadget grabbed a plate of chocolate cake.

Gadget looked back at the new teacher and snickered.

"Don't let it get to you."

"She's just as bad as everyone else."

"Who? Maisy?"

"Yeah..."

Gadget shrugged.

"It's probably just a phase. Next week she'll fall for Basil again or someone."

Trays full, they set off to find a table. Tillie waved at them from a corner. They headed towards her.

"I dunno. I kinda...," Dex began, then stopped as they reached the table, sitting down with their trays. Tillie was already deep in her bowl of clam chowder.

"You what?" Gadget asked as she pulled her chair up.

"It's... whatever."

"What?"

Dex picked up his spoon, swirled it around in his own bowl of clam chowder, then set it down. Screw it. He grabbed his fork and dug into the chocolate cake instead.

"I miss when we used to hang out more."

"What are we talking about now?" Tillie asked, only half-interested.

No one said anything right away. Gadget picked at her sunflower seed salad for a minute, then spoke.

"You're her brother. She'll come back around eventually."

Dex shrugged again. He was about to shove another large piece of chocolate cake into his mouth when something lightly bumped his elbow. He turned and looked down. It was Olivia.

"Sign my petition?" she asked, her little whiskers upturned in a wide smile.

Dex couldn't help but mirror that infectious grin. In the distance, something... someone... caught his eye. It was Maisy. She frowned at him and shook her head. Dex frowned back. He took the clipboard and pen from Olivia's outstretched paws.

"You know what? Sure, kid. Baseball, right?"

"Uh-huh! We're going to have a mascot again, too! I hope..."

He handed her back the clipboard and pen and ruffled her hair, or, rather, the top of her tam-o-shanter.

"Break a leg, kid."

"Thank you!" she beamed, and off she went.

Dex smiled. In the background, Maisy shook her head. Dex snapped his fingers and winked, finger-gunning her. She rolled her eyes and went back to talking to her friends.

"Ugh. He's such a tease," complained Maisy to her company, twirling a strand of her long, golden hair as she sipped soda through a straw.

"He just cares about other people. Heck, I signed her petition," the black-furred mouse said. "How come you never hang out with your brother anymore? He's been lookin' kinda sad..."

"He's not even my real brother, Marvell. He's just my half-brother. You know that. Do we look like we're related?"

"But y'all used to be so close! What happened?"

Maisy shrugged.

"I dunno. We just... shifted."

"Don't you mean 'drifted'?" offered up a boy rat next to her.

"Whatever," Maisy shrugged. "Anyway, what do you guys think of him?" she smirked, jerking her head in the direction of Pinky still in line at the food bar.

All at the table turned their heads to look at him. He seemed to be picking out quite an odd assortment of foods: a hot dog, two cups of custard, and several pieces of cheese - just cheese. Every person that passed him a "hello" he greeted with a chipper "Good morning!", and his attitude towards the servers was polite and enthusiastic. Those around him couldn't seem to keep the smiles off their faces. Even the students generally known to be more reserved or stuck up couldn't help but throw him a curious glance. He was, for lack of a better term, "sunshine-y".

The boy rat popped several corn puffs in his mouth, his dry expression unchanged.

"He's kind of a twink, isn't he?"

Maisy slapped him on the shoulder playfully.

"He is not!"

"Dude. Come on..."

"He's not that young," Marvell said, filing her nails as another of their group, a white mouse in a red shirt and with a yellow sash tied about his neck, came and sat down beside her, a cup full of fizzy raspberry water tottering dangerously on the edge of his tray. "He is kinda cute, though..."

The white mouse set down his tray carefully... but not carefully enough. Slip went the cup, the mouse grabbing it before its contents could spill out entirely.

"AH!" Marvell yelped, jumping a little. "Stuart, that's the second time this week!"

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, Marvell!" the little mouse said, apologizing profusely as he skittered off towards the food bar. "I'll go get some napkins!"

"Awww, man. I just washed this," lamented Marvell, picking up a corner of her frilly blue frock, now tainted with fizz. "Well... At least it's just water. I can work with this, right? Looks kinda... sassy?"

The boy rat sat up, the better to look at Marvell's new fashion statement. The water had painted the rounded edges of one side of the dress. It could have passed for an interesting pattern if one squinted hard enough.

"Yeah, sure. You could pass it off as the new look," he suggested, smiling.

"Hm," Marvell replied, smirking as she sat back down, ringing out the dress edge.

Maisy didn't seem the least bit phased.

"I think he's kinda hot," she said, eyelashes fluttering as she sipped at her soda noisily.

"Hotter than Globetrotter?" sniggered the boy rat.

"Okay, Globetrotter's in his own league. Okay? I can never compete with that."

"Ummm...," Marvell mumbled, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassed smile as she pointed to a figure behind Maisy's back.

"What?" Maisy asked, craning around slightly to look before swiftly turning back 'round in her seat again, shoulder hunched as she visibly blushed. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

The boy rat beside her could barely hide his laughter as Globetrotter walked past them, his nose deep in a very thick, very red, and very heavy-looking book. Had he actually been paying attention to their conversation Maisy might have had more reason to involuntarily add a bit of color to her cheeks. As it stood, however, he had not, and so continued towards the bar, oblivious to the fact that he was now fifth in line behind Pinky.

"That's astounding!" Pinky exclaimed, tray of food all but forgotten as he leaned across a glass awning in front of him, totally invested in Pip's latest story. "But... how were you able to keep the syrup layer from separating?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Pip replied, and on and on he went.

Two students ahead of Pinky peered back, interested. Others behind him simply chuckled... or tapped their foot impatiently. To Globetrotter it was complete gibberish. The culinary arts was a branch he rarely dabbled in unless absolutely necessary. Although I do make a mean rigatoni, he thought to himself before shaking his head disgustedly. Where the heck did that come from? He was supposed to be engulfed in Brownian Motion and Stochastic Calculus, but, as it stood, he found his attention inexplicably pulled towards a much... lesser subject. It was unfathomable how anyone could be so intrigued by such mundane topics as the properties of pancakes and how effectively one might prepare them, but the fanaticism with which his coworker now described it was almost... infectious. Nevertheless, Globetrotter frowned as he checked his watch. 12:18 PM. They were wasting precious time. He was wasting his precious time.

"Will you move along already!" he called out, voice peppered with vexation. "I've got class in twenty-seven minutes!"

"Oh! So sorry!" Pinky called back, paws quickly grabbing hold of his tray once more. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Pip. Good luck with your pancakes!"

"Same to you, my good man!" Pip squeaked back. "What a pleasant fellow," he muttered to himself, smiling as Pinky walked off towards the refreshments bar, laden with food.

Globetrotter huffed and moved forward, grabbing a single bowl of fruit and a cup of cottage cheese on his way down. As he passed the pasta section, he paused, reached out a hesitant paw towards a plate of spaghetti, then quickly snapped it back, sighing and frowning sadly as he moved on to the refreshments, grabbing a banana on his way over and angrily slapping it down on his tray.

He stopped beside Pinky, who was humming and pouring himself some English Breakfast tea. Globetrotter huffed again. Flavored water - a poor man's excuse for caffeine. How anyone could drink that stuff was beyond him. He went for the coffee, pulled down the carafe lever... and grumbled. Empty.

"Is there any place in this building that can afford a mouse a decent cup of coffee?!" he whined, popping his empty cup back onto the others.

"Oh, that's a shame there, isn't it? Have you tried the tea, Brain?" Pinky offered helpfully, as he popped a lid on his own steaming cup.

"I refuse to bow my knee to such a lowbrow form of refreshment," Globetrotter bit back, picking up his tray. "And it's Brian, you nincompoop."

"Well, how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it? Poit!" Pinky replied, unfazed by the retort.

"If I liked it I'd drink it. Good day to you."

And off he went, choosing a spot as far back in the room as possible, Pinky sadly watching him as he picked out a table devoid of occupants. Pinky looked back at the empty coffee cup, a light whimper escaping him as he stared at it dolefully. He turned back to focus on Globetrotter, who was once more lost in his big red book. Students who sat nearby gave him as wide of a berth as they could. Pinky's ears drooped. What a sad little man, he thought. But it wasn't long before they perked back up again. Why, yes. Of course! Beaming, he set his tray down at an occupied table ("Watch this for me, will you?"), and rushed out of the cafeteria, leaving several students at the table to stare after him, puzzled.

Flip. Globetrotter turned a page of his massive tome, popping a grape in his mouth and crunching down on it satisfactorily. Flip, flip, flip. He looked to his right. A girl mouse sat nearby, also buried in a book. A huge pink bow sat atop her head. He recognized her. She was one of his students. Teresa, her name was, if he recalled correctly. She was one of his brighter subjects, but struggled with the occasional mathematical theory. As it was, her nose practically brushed the pages of a book that Globetrotter recognized by sight alone: Calculus by Gilbert Strang. Teresa sighed deeply, her unironed brow effectively relaying her frustration. She looked up... and jumped a little as she noticed Globetrotter staring at her, a light pink almost the exact color of her bow kissing her cheeks. Globetrotter slowly ducked back into his own texts, his peripheral vision catching Teresa shifting her seat over a notch in embarrassment.

A paw reached out to grab for his coffee, and he looked up when it touched nothing. Right. No coffee... Sighing, he popped another grape in his mouth, biting into it rather harder than necessary. Nearby, at another table, several students whispered.

"Did you find out what he teaches?" a girl vole asked, her question laced with ardor.

"Yup. He teaches Trozology," replied a male rat next to her, a pair of thick headphones hung about his neck.

"What the heck is that?" voiced another female rodent at their table, a cream-furred mouse decked out in purple - purple shirt; purple pants; purple socks; purple everything.

"I dunno," the rat shrugged. "Sounds kinda cool, though."

Globetrotter frowned. His ears twitched as tinkling laughter echoed from another table beside him.

"I knooooooow. He's so cute!" chuckled a rosy pink-eared mouse. She spoke in a barely-contained whisper along with the rest of her group, all of which sported bulky backpacks laid out on their table and decorated with all sorts of patches, stickers, and keychains. "I hope I can get a spot in his class!"

"I think he still has slots open!" one of her friends, a field rat, spoke up. "As far as I know, though, no one's actually signed up."

"Whyyyyyy? He's adorable! I'm gonna sign up just so I can stare at that face every day," a girl hamster said.

"What if you don't even like the class?" the second friend spoiled. "Maybe it's a dud. And we don't really have time in our schedules for another course..."

They all paused sadly and contemplatively at this. Then the first girl perked up.

"Well, I guess we'll get him all to ourselves then. If no one else likes the class then we'll stay just for the teacher!"

"Yeah, until every other girl does the same thing. You know we're not the only ones with the hots for him," the hamster said, taking a swig from her soda bottle.

"Well, then I guess we'll just have to fight for him," smiled the rat nonchalantly as she picked at her nails.

"Fight for him?!" yelped the other girls, covering their mouths at their loudness. "Oh my gosh. Seriously?!"

"Yeah! Anyone who comes up, we'll tell 'em to meet us at the park at two. No knives. Just like... nail clippers and hair curlers or something..."

"No no! Wait! We tell them to meet us at the baseball stadium!" offered the hamster, soda pop forgotten.

"You mean the one Olivia's petitioning?" the girl mouse asked. "It's not even built yet!"

"Yeah, but when it is we can tell them to meet there!"

"Winner gets dibs. They get to call first date," said the rat.

"And the loser has to pay for the dinner tab."

"Yeah!"

"Oh my gosh, you guys are so funny," the mouse chuckled.

They all laughed gaily.

Globetrotter's frown deepened, his mouth hanging open, another grape suspended in mid-air. Was Pinkus really... that popular? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the conversations now swimming about his consciousness, when yet another light exchange, a distant one this time, caught his ears.

"... thinking of actually dropping Globetrotter's class to take that Ronald guy's one. It's just as many credits. Probably way more fun."

Globetrotter gulped. He tried reading a sentence in his book, only to find that he kept gracing the same words over and over and over again. Blast it. He couldn't concentrate. He plopped the book down on the table and went to devouring his cottage cheese, all around him oblivious to the private war going on in his mind.

Why do you care what they think? They're kids. They're idiots.

Yes, and have you forgotten what happened when Basil came to the school two years ago? They went gah-gah over him, too.

They didn't all abandon my class!

Nooooo, but half of them did. And Basil taught a required course at the time. Same as yours. They all went for his. He was much more interesting than you.

That's neither here nor there! I'm still employed, aren't I? My class is still sought after.

For now, and only because it's required. This new guy is significantly more popular. What if his class becomes required? What if it's worse than before? What if you become... old hat?

"No!" Globetrotter yelled, out loud. Half the cafeteria paused to stare at him. He sunk in his seat a little. How embarrassing...

In mock resoluteness, he grabbed the book before him and went back to reading. But he was only truly pretending to read, the bright crimson covers a pathetic excuse for a hole in which the frightened mouse hid.

The truth was that, despite his behavior being anything but amicable, his notorious reputation in the school had garnered him something akin to a celebrity status over the years. The course was required, certainly, even though he wasn't the only teacher who taught it, but the struggle to survive the rigorous schedule and harsh grading system he doled out had become a flat out challenge to the students. How long could you last? Would you manage to nab the ever elusive 'A' during a semester? One pupil even became famous for handing out "I Survived Globetrotter's Class" t-shirts. They hated the teacher, but reveled in the challenge. It was something that Globetrotter became ironically comfortable with over the years. Being notorious was better than not being noticed at all. He couldn't abide the thought of being second fiddle; of falling into obscurity. He'd never had reason to be concerned about it for seventeen years, even during Basil's "reign", but now...? Now he had legitimate competition. In all his years at A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, he'd never known an instructor so heavily discussed, so quixotic, so beloved, even on the very first day of his employment. Pinky was new and different, in all the wrong ways to him, yet in all the right ways to the students. And it terrified him.

On a sudden whim, he whipped out a pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote feverishly on a napkin in front of him. He didn't see the tall figure approach him.

"Hello, Brain!"

Globetrotter practically leapt out of his skin.

"AH! Wh-... You..! Don't... do that!" he remarked, hastily stuffing the napkin and pen back into his coat pocket. He clutched at his heart, taking deep breaths as he rested his head in his palm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Brain!" poor Pinky replied, resting a hand on Globetrotter's back comfortingly. Globetrotter shrugged it off, literally.

"And don't touch me! I just... h-had this... p-pressed," Globetrotter snapped, still catching his breath. "Who knows where your... paws have... been..."

"Oh, well, they haven't been far, Brain. They're always at my side! Ha-ha!"

Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow up at him, speechless. There was no way anyone could be this inordinately stupid.

"Mind if I join you?" Pinky asked, all innocence, that perpetually sunny smile never leaving his face.

"As I matter, of fact, I-"

"Oh, thank you!" Pinky initiated, grabbing a chair and pulling it close up to Globetrotter. Too close for his comfort. Apparently, personal space was something of a foreign concept to this character. "You know, I don't usually eat in public. Don't want to miss The Brady Bunch, you know? Hm hm. But it's rather nice out here! I might come and sit with you more often."

Heaven forbid, Globetrotter thought, ears reddening.

"Would you kindly refrain from mentioning that abomination of a tv show in my presence? It sickens me. And I don't appreciate your unnaturally close proximity."

"Come again?" Pinky asked, cocking his head.

"Move," Globetrotter said, managing, with difficulty, to push Pinky and the chair he sat in over an inch.

"Well, you could have just asked," Pinky chuckled, still smiling. He complied, scooting his chair a couple more inches away from Brain.

"Thank you," bit Globetrotter, turning away from Pinky and directing his attention back to the giant tome in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a little privacy."

"Oh, but, I came to give you something!" Pinky exclaimed, and Globetrotter, despite himself, shiftily looked over as the lanky mouse dug in his pants pocket for... something. "A-ha! Here ya' go!"

And he handed him... a teabag? No. Not a teabag. It was too big to be a teabag.

Globetrotter took it from him tentatively, two fingers holding it away from his body as if it might explode.

"What is it?"

"Chicory root! I just thought that, well, when you couldn't find any coffee it reminded me of my mum. She used to be a big coffee drinker, too. She stopped recently, but she still missed the taste. Chicory root tastes a lot like coffee, only better! M-Maybe you'd like it, too?" Pinky offered helpfully, a tinge of shyness peppering his smile.

Globetrotter looked up at Pinky, nonplussed... and a wee bit confused. No one ever gave him anything; not unless he directly asked for it. To be fair, no one was ever bold enough to even attempt to show him much kindness, seeing as the result was often times a sharp reply and a sinister glare. This newcomer obviously hadn't learned the rules yet.

"Teachers... don't usually give me gifts," Globetrotter admitted. "Not unless I ask for them." Nevertheless, he pocketed the chicory root.

"Perhaps that's because you don't ask nicely, Brain? People give you lots of things when you're nice to them!"

It wasn't so much the statement itself, but the boldness of its deliverance that took Globetrotter aback.

"Sooooo... you're saying... I should be nice... to get rewards?"

"Oh, no, Brain! That would be taking advantage! You should be nice to people, 'cause, well, it's nice! And then they're nice to you! Don't you like making people happy?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No one has ever given me reason to."

"Well, maybe they would if you showed them a little smile!"

And he actually stuck two fingers up against Globetrotter's cheeks, pushing up on each side in an attempt to draw something close to a grin on his drooping face.

"Ohhhhhhh. There's that smile, Brain!"

"Would you get off?!" Globetrotter blasted, waving his arms around as he flung Pinky off of him. "I told you not to touch me!"

His cheeks and ears burned red at the sound of laughter nearby. Some of the students had been watching and were now drowning in a hushed fit of giggles. Naturally...

"You dimwit. If you're still sitting in that chair in five seconds, I shall personally have to harm you," threatened Globetrotter, cheeks reddening worse than ever as his paws balled into fists.

"Do I get a prize if I leave in four?" Pinky smirked.

"One..."

"Or maybe I'll get one if I stay longer! It pays to be persistent sometimes, Brain."

"Two..."

"You know, you're rather funny when your ears turn red. Nya-ha-ha!"

"FOUR...!"

"Going, Brain!"

And with that, he was off, picking his food up off his tray to take back to his room, giggling to himself and humming, of all things, "Camptown Races" as he headed for the doors. One of the teachers, a Dr. Dawson, smiled at Pinky as he walked past him. And Dr. Dawson... Oh, have mercy. Dr. Dawson started singing along with him.

"I say. I do recognize that tune, young man!" Dawson said, grinning warmly. "Camptown ladies sing this song! Doo-dah! Doo-dah!"

"Camptown race-track five miles long! Oh, doo-da day!" Pinky sung back, beaming.

Others joined in. Still others. Soon, almost the entire cafeteria, minus Globetrotter and a few stragglers, was decked out in song.

"Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! Bet my money on the bob-tailed nag! Somebody bet on the bay!"

And with that, everyone burst out into hearty laughter, Pinky's wail the loudest of all. He and Dr. Dawson exchanged a friendly word or two, shook hands, and with that, Pinky departed, leaving a trail of chuckles behind.

Globetrotter blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open again. Whatever had happened was... terrifying. This bloke didn't just have an effect on the students, but on the whole school. Even the teachers were getting involved! It was official. This needed to end. He had to be stopped...

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Pinky was still humming "Camptown Races" all the way back to his classroom. He'd just reached the door when a little someone came pitter-pattering down the hallway after him.

"Mr. Pinky! Mr. Pinky!" she called, hat bobbing wildly up and down on her ruffled, furry head.

"Hello, Olivia!" Pinky said, grinning from ear to ear.

"That was amazing!" she gasped, panting. "Mrs. Judson said she could hear you from the nurses' office. She was singing with you!"

They both giggled at this.

"Well, tell Mrs. Judson that Mr. Pinky is glad she enjoyed the song!" Pinky said.

"Oh, I will! I will! By the way, umm... do you have any more classes planned?" Olivia asked, tucking her paws behind her and rocking back and forth, the pink cheeks only complementing her humble posture. She looked awfully cute.

"Hmmmmm. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Is that a Friday?"

"I think so."

"Yes! Yes, I will!"

"2:00 PM sharp tomorrow, little lady," Pinky said, winking at her.

"2:00 PM sharp, Mr. Pinky!" Olivia repeated, saluting him. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

And off she trotted.

"Oh! Olivia!" Pinky called.

Olivia stopped and turned around, her mouth in a curious little 'o' shape. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, Pinky tossed her a bag of crisps. She caught it with a trained paw.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, popping open the bag and tossing a chip in her mouth as she ran off and around a corner.

"Olivia!" Pinky called again, a hand to his mouth.

"Hm?" she queried, popping her head around the corner.

"How many signatures?!"

"Thirty-seven!"

"Woo-hoo!"

"Woo woo!" she called back, before flying off once more.

Pinky smiled, giggling to himself, as he turned the door handle and disappeared inside.

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

Author's Notes:

- Marvell is an original character created by a friend of mine who goes by the cognomen of "Geeky". You can find her lovely art and cute character on Twitter at: GeekyBlackGirl

- Flip phones weren't exactly in wide use in '93, but I cheated here for convenience's sake and story purposes.

- The book that Teresa was reading, as well as the book Globetrotter carried around with him, are actual published works. Stochastic calculus is, apparently, a very advanced form of the subject. Brain considers it light reading.

- Your typical volcano science project is partially composed of baking soda, which, in turn, is made up of sodium bicarbonate. The whole thing is a reference to Globetrotter's explosive personality, and how he views the current predicament as such: one big problem on the verge of erupting and destroying his position if he doesn't do something... and fast.

- Globetrotter going for the cottage cheese and fruit, while sadly eschewing the pasta, is due to the fact that, in this story, he has terrible bowel and diarrhea issues. He's been told by his doctor to avoid certain foods, but finds this... a struggle at times. I dunno why I decided to give him this problem, other than the fact that it amuses me. Lol.

- Olivia is a lot of fun to write. :)

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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musicalmontgomery · 5 years ago

Text

Letters

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, swearing, brief mentions of billy’s abuse

Pairing: billy hargrove x reader

on the day Billy Hargrove leaves his small town of Coastalside, California for Hawkins, he makes fast friends with y/n, promising to write her while he’s away

loosely based on ‘Travelin’ Soldier’ by Dixie Chicks // there will be more parts!

The bell on the diner door rang as the newest customer entered into the french fry aroma of the mom and pop restaurant. You kept up with your sidework, polishing the cutlery and folding it into napkins while the patron got sat into one of the red and yellow leather booths.

The day dragged on just like every other as the minute hand schlepped around the seashell clock hanging above the bar. This was only supposed to be a summer job, taking orders and serving burgers for the locals while the tourists stuck to the patios along the beach. But here you were as September was coming to its close, still trying to get the water stains from the damn dishwasher out of these knives.

After allowing the customer a moment with the menu, you finally turned around to see him sitting there. In all his glowing glory, was Billy Hargrove. The king of Coastalside, California. Grabbing your pad and pen, you sauntered over to the small booth he sat in. For the first time in all the time you’d seen him around town, he looked small. The tall seat towered over him and it reminded you of a child pretending to be a grown-up.

“Good morning, can I get you started off with something to drink?” You politely asked, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Just, uh, a-a coffee please,” Billy stumbled. You looked up from your pad where you had scribbled ‘coffee’ in loopy handwriting. A single bead of sweat on his upper lip could have easily been attributed to the sweltering Californian heat that lasted into late fall, but the anxiety written on his face told another story.

“Yeah, no problem. Any food or just the coffee for now?” Your eyes finally meeting his, you felt your heart break a little. The once bright blue that shone like the sun in the sky seemed a muted tone as they watered.

You gave a little smile as he took a moment to collect himself to spit out any words.

“Just the coffee, thanks. But hey, can I ask you something?” His eyes still boring into yours pleaded for you. You gave him a quick nod and smiled a little bigger. “Would you mind sitting down for a while? I could use someone to talk to, and you look like a good listener.”

You softly laughed, wondering where in yourself he saw that. You’d only gone to the same small schools together all your lives, but now, he sees it. Nonetheless, you accepted the compliment.

“Thanks. I actually have some extra work to finish up, but I’m off in an hour if you’re not in a hurry. I know somewhere we can go.” You tugged on the bow holding your ponytail, tightening it.

His face lightening up, he finally gave you a smile and took you up on the offer.

For the next hour, Billy waited patiently and watched as you finished up the polishing and served your other tables. Every time your eyes caught each other’s, you could see him delicately smile, and his tense shoulders visibly dropped as he seemed to remember how to breathe again.

Wondering why he seemed so distressed, you recalled hearing around the hallways that the king of Coastalside was leaving his kingdom. You hadn’t heard where exactly, but you knew it was somewhere in the Midwest. No matter where, there was surely no ocean for a nearly professional surfer like him. The demeanour suddenly made sense and you really felt for him.

Finally, noon hit and your shift was over. You gave Billy a nod as you disappeared into the back to discard your apron in favour of your purse. When you got back to his table, he was pulling out his wallet for the three coffees he’d consumed in the hour he waited for you.

“Don’t worry about that,” denying the cash he was trying to hand you. “It’s on the house.”

“Thanks. Where to?” You and Billy headed out the door, the bell ringing out behind you.

“The pier? It’ll be too hot for the tourists today, so we should be relatively alone.”

True to your assumptions, the pier and beach were nearly entirely vacated save for a few locals and truly brave visitors. The ride over was quiet but comfortable. You’d always wondered what it would be like to be one of the girls in Billy’s Camaro only to be moderately disappointed. There was less of a magical excitement than you imagined you’d feel, but you were also not riding around in the same pretext they did.

The two of you walked along the wooden boards, neither saying a word until you reached the end and sat on a bench there. The brilliant noon sun hung right above you, making you glad you’d carried your sunglasses along today. Billy, too, wore his you realized as turned over to look at. As if on a cue, a small tear gentled rolled out from underneath the shades.

“I’m sorry. This was dumb, I don’t know why I asked you here.” His voice cracked, and his shoulders shook. Your hands quickly reached up to his cheeks to wipe away the quickly fleeting stream of saltwater.

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” You didn’t know what to say or how to help him here. Though you’d known Billy most of your life, it was only distantly. You wanted just to make everything better, but you didn’t know how.

After a minute or two of just sobbing and weeping, Billy’s tears came to slow and eventually stop.

“I’m leaving today.” Finally, he broke the silence.

Still not knowing what to say, you offered a simple “I know.”

“I’m leaving my entire life here to go off to hell. Hawkins the Hellhole, Indiana in the county of Bum-Fuck-Nowhere. I’m gonna die out there, Y/N. There’s no way I can survive that long away from all of this.” He held his hands up as he turned around to the town behind you, gesturing at everything it was and stood for.

“What are you gonna miss most? Maybe it’ll help to talk about it and figure out how to get a sense of that out there.” You were just talking out of your ass now, unsure of what you were even saying.

“The waves and surfing. I was so close to a sponsorship too. By the end of the season, it would have been mine. I’m gonna miss the people. My neighbours, the Watsons, real sweethearts. They brought over a cake that Mrs. Watson made for me a couple of days ago. It was a birthday/going-away thing-“ He was quickly cut off by your interruption.

“It was your birthday?!” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I just turned 18 the other day,” he said shyly.

“Happy belated birthday! Okay, carry on.”

Billy laughed and continued on with his list.

“I’m gonna miss making fun of the tourists. Miss driving the Camaro on the rocky coastline. Miss the salty air. But one thing I sure as hell am not missing is Stella’s Diner. Those chunks of charcoal you guys call burgers are awful!” He laughed, sniffling slightly. “It has its redeeming qualities, though. The coffee, the fries, you.”

Holding a hand to your chest over your heart, you smiled as he looked down at you.

“God! I’m 18 years old! I’m old enough to go off to war and get shot, but I can’t even decide where I want to be.” Billy frustratedly ran his hands through his hair, combing through the mullet of thick curls.

“Indiana won’t be as bad as a warzone, at least,” you said, trying to find a positive in this.

“Indiana is a warzone for me! You don’t know what my dad is like.” You’d seen the black eyes, the cuts. The Billy you knew didn’t fight and the injuries finally made sense.

“You’re gonna be okay, soldier.” Billy chuckled at the nickname.

Resting his back on the bench again, you looked at him in silence. His signature half-buttoned shirt exposed the glowing tan on his muscular chest. Tensed from experience but relaxed in this moment, he looked comfortable to just be here.

“I don’t have anyone out there, Y/N. Susan and Max don’t give a shit, Dad is an ass, Mom is long gone. Don’t really have anyone back here now. It’s just me.”

“You got me.” You reached your hand over to his and held it.

“Yeah. Can I send you letters, maybe? I’ve got no one else to send ‘em to.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You’d never pegged Billy to be an old fashioned, letter-writing romantic.

You told him you’d love that and pulled your notepad and pen from work, his order still on the top page. Below where you had written ‘coffee’ earlier, you scrawled your home address that he could send to. You tore the page off, and he tucked it into his wallet for safe-keeping.

The two of you sat and stared at the ocean, outstretched before you for a while. Billy soaked it all in, fearing it may be the last chance to see it before he leaves. The quiet between you, while mostly comfortable, was missing something.

You reached up to the back of your neck and gripped the clasp of your necklace, undoing it. You brought it into his hands, folding them around it.

“You got me here. I’ll be there with you, even when you can’t write.”

His eyes buried behind his sunglasses blurred with tears again as he opened his hands to see the necklace. A simple silver chain held a delicate pendant of the Virgin Mary. Ever so carefully, he placed it around his own neck. Thumbing the pendant, he looked back to you.

He was unable to get words out, but you could see how appreciative he was for this gift.

With one last good glance at the vast expanse of water before him, he began to get up.

“It’s time for me to ship out. I’ll drive you home.”

With a town as small as Coastalside, it only took a few minutes to get from the pier to your house. It wasn’t nearly enough time with him. As he parked the Camaro, you turned into him and softly smiled. One of Billy’s hands came off the steering wheel to gently grasp the side of your face. Pulling you into himself, your lips collided like waves crashing at the shore. The sheer intensity lit a fire in your ribs, and you sighed into the feeling. Like a delicate dance, your mouth moved with his in a choreography you didn’t know you knew. As your lungs burned for air, you separated from him but he maintained his soft grip on your jaw.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to do that,” Billy gasped through his swollen lips. “And now, I have to go.”

You pressed your lips together as if to permanently seal the feeling of his into them. Once both of your breaths were caught, moments soaked in, excitement inside you dying down, you reached for your door handle. He returned his hand to the wheel.

Now exited from the vehicle, you smiled down at him in the driver’s seat.

“See ya, soldier.” You called his new nickname while closing your passenger door. Without looking back, for fear of crying if you had to see him again, you walked inside. Once you shut the door, you leaned against it, the sobs finally making their way out. Years of loving him longingly and you finally had your chance. Only to have it ripped away by fate. Your heart ached for what could have been, what you only got a taste of as you carried yourself to your bedroom.

The first letter came a few weeks later.

Dear Y/N,

I was right about it being ‘Hawkins the Hellhole.’ The town is bigger than Coastalside, but somehow there’s still nothing to do for fun. It’s so cold here and it’s only October. The lake is just a puddle of brown sludge and it has nothing on my crystal blue ocean. I miss it.

I miss you. I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I’ve really liked you for years. I was a jerk of kid, I know. Even more of an ass when we grew up. An arrogant little shit. But you still showed me kindness. Like you knew something about me that I didn’t know about myself. I hope that’s how you feel anyway. I don’t know if I love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that. But I think this might be it.

Write me soon. Your Virgin Mary and I are looking forward to hearing from you, no matter if you feel the same way or not.

Lovingly,

Your soldier, Billy

You laid in bed, reading and re-reading the letter for hours. It was as if your mind was unable to process the words he had very clearly laid out for you.

“I think this might be it.” No way. No way was the king of Coastalside thinking this might be love that he was feeling for you. It all felt too surreal.

“Hey, hon,” your mother leaned against the frame of your open door. “You gonna be joining us for dinner?”

Without looking up from the page, you replied with a simple “no.”

“Who’s the letter from?” she asked.

“Billy,” your eyes continued to keep their focus on the sheet of paper.

“Hargrove? I heard he moved away.” Of course, she did. Coastalside was so small that everyone knew. “I didn’t know you were that close.”

“We weren’t really until he left.”

“Maybe it’s better that he did, you know? He was such a rough kid, and you don’t get mixed up in that. I think this is a good chance to cut your losses and you’re so young. There’ll be more guys.”

Saying nothing, you dropped the paper onto your nightstand and rolled over to face away from her. She took the hint and left, closing the door on her way out.

‘She’s wrong,’ you thought. Billy is so much more than she thinks he is. He was sweet and kind. When he wanted to be, anyway. Other times, he was an ass who beat up anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

No matter what her mother thought, you knew in your heart that you felt the same way as he confessed in his letter.

You refolded the letter and tucked it back into its envelope. You pulled a fresh sheet out of your desk drawer and wrote.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove angst #stranger things #stranger things imagine #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagine

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jeagerism · 5 years ago

Note

from the 200 dialogue prompts : fluff 8 + 34 w peter parker 🤧🤧

eeee ok! welcome to the two times you tell peter a pick up line, and the one time he surprises you.

---

You realise you have a crush on Peter Parker sophomore year. Specifically, end of sophomore year, on the day the whole school gets their yearbooks.

The hallways are full of students, yearbooks open to the three pages dedicated to signatures - right between the sponsors and the baby pictures most parents had sent in. Your pages are bare, aside from MJ's loopy handwriting and the freshman from your PE class.

"Hey." The locker door next to yours opens, and Peter peeks his head around it a few seconds later. He's grinning, yearbook under his arm.

You hum, closing your locker and leaning against it. "Hi."

"Do you, um...will you sign my-my yearbook?"

Peter's a friend, someone you've known since middle school. Someone who you've had every english class with since you were twelve, someone that sat by you during lunch on your first day because he'd seen you eating alone. Peter is a friend, and friends sign each other's yearbooks.

"Sure", you hold yours out, "you can sign mine, too."

Peter pauses, and then reaches into the pocket of his backpack for two pens, shuffling closer to you. He hands you the pen with the blue cap and trades yearbooks with you.

You stare at the empty white space surrounded by other signatures, all in variations of colored ink and thickness. You could stick with the custom words of "have a great summer", signing your name below and leave it at that.

And you're going to, until you notice the way his eyelashes are so long they skim his cheeks with every blink. Or the way he smells like the cinnamon cupcakes from the bakery downtown. Or the way his hair looked really, really soft.

So, you could do what everyone else does. Or you could do something bold.

By the time you decide, Peter's already done, smiling up at you politely, waiting. You scribble down a few words, and hand his book back. When he gives you your own, you read over his words with a smile.

thanks for making english bearable this year. see you next year.

And below that, his name. You smile, and glance up just in time to see his eyes scan your own words. A blush creeps up his neck, his cheeks pink.

are you a camera? because everytime i look at you, i smile! see you this summer, peter!

But Peter smiles, and looks back up at you. "See you this summer", he breathes, and his shoulder brushes yours as he walks away.

---

He kisses you for the first time on Halloween.

Another rerun of Halloweentown plays on the television, and you and Peter have already started on the extra bowl of candy you'd brought for the tricker treaters.

He's so close you can smell the cinnamon icing he'd spilled on himself earlier tonight. But you seriously do not mind, so you leave it be.

"I have a secret."

Peter raises both eyebrows, turning his head. "Yeah?" You nod, and he moves the candy bowl from his lap, facing you. His hand hovers over your own for a second, before it drops back into his lap. "Well...what is it?"

You begin to speak when you stop, wetting your lips. "I, um..." Noticing your hesitance, Peter smiles at you.

"If it makes you feel any better, I have one, too." He shrugs, "same time?"

Nodding, you look down at your fidgeting hands. In your head, telling him this had seemed a lot easier. The words had came out perfectly, and he'd reacted in the perfect way, and things were good.

But reality was never like that, so you find yourself nervous, barely able to look him in the eye. Halloweentown still plays in the background, but neither of you are paying attention to that anymore.

"On three?" Another nod. "Okay. One."

Oh god.

"Two."

This is bad. Why did I say anything?

"Three."

He's gonna hate me.

"I have a crush on you."

"I'm Spider-Man."

There's a pregnant pause.

"You're what?!"

"You have a crush on me?!" Peter throws his hands up, shaking his head from side to side. "Wait wait wait, I-"

You stand, eyes wide, heart racing. Partly from the fact that you just confessed to your crush of a year, but also because your crush of a year is fucking Spider-Man. "You're a superhero! You fight crime and wear spandex and shit!"

"It's not spandex", he objects, "and what about you! You have a crush on me! And you're just now telling me when I've been freaking out about the way I get nervous over you for two entire years!"

You suck in a breath, and then slowly slide down next to him. "Oh."

Peter gulps, sinking back in his spot. "Yeah. Oh."

And, well, here's goes nothing.

"Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow a kiss? Promise I'll give it back."

So, you have your first kiss with Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man - you're still not over it - on his couch, like two middle schoolers, lips sticky with candy, over the sound of Halloweentown in the back.

---

Senior year creeps up on you faster than expected, so due to this, you dedicate the last week of summer break to hanging out with Peter.

"Stop moving."

You huff, flopping onto your side and brushing hair out of your face. "I can't fall asleep."

Peter's eyes are closed, cheek smushed against the pillow. "I can." He slings an arm across your waist, and tugs. You make a startled noise, pulled into his chest, nose skimming the skin of his neck. He hums, nosing your hair. "There we go. Sleep."

You wait a few minutes, his body slowly relaxing again, breaths slowing as he falls back asleep. Reaching underneath the pillow for your phone, you check the time. 1:37 A.M. You sigh, unlocking it and opening Instagram.

1:55 A.M.

"Turn your brightness down." It's the fifth time he's asked, he knows this, because each time he's asked, it's gotten significantly brighter.

You look up from your phone. "Female penguins have sex with other males to get stones for their nests." The dazed look he gives makes you smile.

"Okay?"

"Mhm." Going back to your phone, you scroll for a few minutes longer before you break away from him, stretching out on your back. "I am bored, Peter Parker."

He sighs, shaking the blanket from his shoulders and propping himself up. "Sleep. Please. So tired. Nearly two in the morning. Stuff to do tomorrow."

"But I'm not tired, dipshit."

"Oh my god." He lets his head fall back to the pillows with a groan.

You glance over at him. "You could stay up with me and ease my boredom." Your tone is hopeful, and his eyes sleepily flutter open. "Please", you stretch out the word.

"Okay, sure." He's nearly asleep again as he says this.

"Okay."

"Yep." His voice gets softer.

2:30 A.M.

You cross your arms, staring down at his sleeping face with a bored expression. He'd fallen asleep awhile ago, but you'd been too enamoured with photos of baby animals to notice.

"Peter."

His nose scrunches, and he rubs his cheek against the pillow. Rolling your eyes, you call his name again, getting nothing more than a twitch of his cheek. You lay down beside him, cuddling up to him. His arm finds it's place around you again, fitting you against him.

With a smile, you tangle your legs in his.

"Why are your feet so cold?" He huffs out the words, shoulders rising to his ears. His eyes open to meet yours, and he looks so clearly exhausted that guilt ebbs at your chest.

You snuggle closer to him. "Sorry", you whisper, pressing your lips to his jaw in apology. "You can sleep now. Won't bother you."

Peter shakes his head. "You're still not gonna sleep." He cups one of your cheeks in his hand, "you okay, sweetheart?" At your nod, he explains himself more. "Like...nothing going on? Nothing you wanna talk about?"

You smile. "I just can't sleep, that's all. Promise." He rubs his thumb across your cheekbone. "I don't know why, it's just been bad recently, I guess."

He doesn't say anything to this, but he holds you a little tighter.

2:47 A.M.

"Hey, honey?"

You blink up at him. "Yeah?", your eyes feel the tiniest bit heavier.

"You don't need keys to drive me crazy." He kisses the crown of your head after this, tucking your head back under his chin. Your eyes fall shut at the feeling, cheeks warm at his line. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Peter."

4:41 A.M.

His eyes open, still heavy with sleep. They land on you.

You're knocked out cold.

---

#i liked this?#so?#tell me what you think?#dej blurbs #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb

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architect-arcane · 5 years ago

Text

Homecoming: Chapter 1

Fandom: MCU

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The city boys are amazed by the life of a farmer.

Words: 1670

A/N: It’s spooktober and you know what that means-- yep, harvest! I’ve lived on a farm my whole life so that’s what this story is based on. I’ll be including some things from my actual life too! Not in this first part, but later ones, when the fun stuff happens. And apparently Clint lives in Missouri, but he was born in Iowa, so we’re just going to pretend that he lives there. (because I’m from Iowa and I say so.) I usually write in first person, but this is gonna be in third, so bear with me and we’ll both get through it. I don’t write a lot, so I don’t have a posting schedule. I’m going to try to get a part out for this once a week. If not, it’ll be every other week. Again, just bear with me. Oh, and this is for @dreamwritesimagines writer’s block writing challenge. It ends on the 31st but i’m sure you can do it anytime. :)) Awesome title board by @justkending

To Y/N, having a degree in Business Management was pretty broad. It was something that could get you a job pretty much anywhere if you wanted to. So imagine her shock when she managed to land a job at the Avengers Compound. She didn’t even know they were hiring, or even had jobs to offer for that matter. Tony had said that Pepper had been nagging at him to find someone to help her out because while she was able to do everything herself, she’d greatly appreciate the extra help. So he began looking.

When May rolled around, he got lists of the top students from the top colleges in every state and began sifting through them. When he got it down to 20, he gave the list to Pepper for her to choose. She looked at everyone’s credentials, what they did while in school, where they graduated, their gpa, the works. She landed on Y/N. Just finished her Master’s at Columbia, graduating Cum Laude, Magna Cum Lade in her undergrad. Clearly she was smart. Nothing though could prepare her for working for the Avengers.

A few months had passed and it was now November. The need for the world to be saved had been slowing down, which was probably a good thing. Maybe everyone could finally rest for a little bit. Some of the crew had just returned from a mission, as signaled by the whirring of a quinjet landing outside. They entered the building, battered and tired. Y/N had been walking through, looking over some papers that had to be signed before being sent out. She heard the chatter and looked up, a bright smile on her face.

“Tony! Just the man I needed to see!” she nods at the others, “Nat, gentlemen.”

“Aren’t I always?” he says with a smirk.

She just rolls her eyes, “I need these signed so they can get in the mail tomorrow. Then Pepper and I will be caught up.”

“That’s great! You truly have been a Godsend for her.”

A light blush appears on her cheeks. She waves him off, “Just doing my job.” she hands him the papers. “Pink tabs are signatures, yellow initials.”

“Godsend. I’ll get it to you within the hour.”

She nods and heads off, the click of her heels fading as she walks down a hallway.

Relaxing in her room, Y/N flips through a photo album that she’d gotten as a present while she was in college. It had pictures of her older brother’s family- wife and kids, two boys. Who, if she did the math right, were five and three now? Wow. She missed out on a lot. She missed them. And her parents. It had been six years and now a few months since she’d seen them last.

She didn’t even realize a tear had left her until she saw a droplet on the last page of the album. She wiped her face and put it back in her side table. Getting up, she walked to her door and opened it. Walking toward the kitchen, she overheard something interesting.

“-back to Iowa? You really want to do that?”

You see, being from a flyover state means that whenever you’re out of state and meet someone from home, you’re basically best friends. Especially if you’re from the midwest, where being nice is just a part of your DNA. “Iowa nice?” Yeah, it’s a real thing. So imagine Y/N’s excitement when she heard one of the Avengers mention her lovely home state.

She peeks around the corner and see Clint, Tony, and Steve chatting, cleaned up and having a cup of coffee. Tony was sitting at the island finishing up reading the contract and signing. Clint and Steve were standing across from him, leaning on the island. It was like they sensed her because it’s only but a couple minutes before they turn around and saw her.

“Need something, Y/N?” Steve asks.

She walks into the kitchen towards them. “Sorry. I just heard someone mention Iowa and it piqued my interest.”

“That was me,” Clint raised his had a little, “you from there”

She smiles and nods, “Born and raised.”

“Me too. Small world.”

“How did I not know this?”

“I asked Fury to keep it off my records, to keep my family safe.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

Tony jumps in, “We were just talking about having a boys weekend at Clint’s place-”

Clint interjects, ��-you were talking.”

Tony smiles but ignores his words, “I suppose you could come too if you wanted to visit home.” Her eyes go wide and she can’t help from smiling. “How long will it take you to pack?”

“I can be ready in..” she looks up and thinks for a moment, “30 minutes?”

“Alright. Wheels up in 30.”

She runs excitedly back to her room and starts packing. She can’t wait to call her parents and hear the excitement in their voices when she tells them she’s finally coming home.

30 minutes later Clint, Tony, Steve, and a very eager Y/N are up in the air. Once at altitude, she unbuckles and starts pacing around the quinjet, trying to get rid of her excess energy.

“You okay there, Y/N?” Clint asks.

“Uh, yeah, mhmm,“ she replies, trying to keep a straight face. It quickly breaks into a smile, “I’m just so excited! I haven’t been home since I started college.“

“Really? Why?“ Steve asks. She can tell he’s kind of concerned, she’s not sure why though, but he leans forward in interest. She turns around and Tony is looking at her too, awaiting the answer.

“Well, out-of-state tuition is no joke. And it didn’t help that I went to an Ivy League school. We just couldn’t afford for me to fly home every school break. And then I decided to get my Master’s, so that was another two years. Then Tony somehow found me and offered me a job right after that. Working with Pepper, as you know,“ They all nod, waiting for her to continue, “and you guys saving the world and everything... you don’t really make it easy to take time off. Despite me being behind the scenes. I just did the math today actually. It’s been just about six and a half years since I’ve been home.”

The three men look at her, almost expressionless. “Y/N...” Tony began, “you should have said something. I would have let you go home for a week or so.”

She looks at him, raising a brow, “Right after you hired me? I will be honest, hiring me right out of college was inconvenient, but I wanted to at least get a little bit of money in my account so I could take a weekend or week off and surprise them.” she looks around the quinjet, “this’ll have to do though.”

He smiles at her, “Still. From now on, tell me if you want to go home, and I’ll pay for your flight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She continues walking around the quinjet. She’d never actually been on one before. It was spacious. There was a loading dock where two cars could fit, they’d only brought one of Tony’s for this trip; the seats were along each side and there was a digital table of some sort in the middle, probably for planning out attacks on missions; there was a whole second floor, which was where the cockpit and beds were, for the unbearably long flights. It was quite the looker if she were being honest. Probably better than a private jet...which Tony probably also had. After exploring, she came back to where the three men were.

“Hey Tony, I can make calls from this thing right? It’s not like a normal plane where I have to turn off my phone and wait till I land?”

He nods, “Right. You’ve got cell service, wifi, the whole nine yards.”

“Perfect.” Y/N takes her phone out of her pocket and dials her mother’s phone number. It only rings once before there’s an answer. “Hi Ma! I know, it’s been a couple weeks, I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy. … Yes, I’m doing fine. … Yes, the pay is good too.” she doesn’t look up but she knows Tony has a smirk on his face, “I was going to keep this a surprise but I can’t hold it in any longer. Is dad home? … Oh, okay. I’ll just have to call him later. You ready? … I’M COMING HOME!” there’s a scream on the other side of the line, and she pulls it away from her ear, annoyed but smiling, “yeah, I’ll be home..well, I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but we’ll be landing in a couple hours. … How am I calling you? Oh. Just a second,” she puts her phone to her shoulder and looks over at Tony.

“Can I tell her I work for you? Or is that like against Avengers rules?”

He thinks about it for a moment before answering, “Yeah go ahead. As long as it doesn’t get outside of your family.”

She nods and brings her phone back to her ear, “I’m back. I guess this is surprise number two. This has to stay inside the walls of the house though, mom. It’s important. I work at the Avengers Compound! … Yes, for Tony Stark! Well actually, his wife Pepper, but it’s still a pretty cool job. Yeah, anyway, we’re on a quinjet, which is just a really fancy plane that has cell service and wifi and stuff. It’s really cool. I’ll take pictures to show you. … Oh okay, tell him I say hi! … Yes you can tell him that I’m on my way. … I’ll call you again once we’ve landed and I’m on the road. Bye!”

She hangs up and looks at the three men, slightly embarrassed, “As you can tell, she’s pretty excited. I just can’t wait to be home.”

#steve rodgers x reader #avengers x reader #homecoming #homecoming story #steve x reader #steve rogers series #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers #captain america #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel ff #mcu fanfiction #mcu ff

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