#and I was like ??? what happened to Mr responsible class representative

[ssruis]

Touya giving tsukasa a free pass for literally anything is so funny to me. He has zero idea tsukasa 1) is frequently in trouble at school 2) will break the rules whenever he wants despite claiming to be a responsible mature rule follower. I think this is also true for saki. I think the tenmas could purposefully burn down all of Tokyo and touya would go “I’m sure they had a good reason :)”. He doesn’t say shit to tsukasa about failing a class in LSH but he gives his friends the “I’m so disappointed in you” treatment… an talks about problematic upperclassmen (rui and tsukasa) and touya goes oh I didn’t know this… the only senior I know is tsukasa senpai (clueless)… This is made even funnier by touya later extending this complete trust and faith to rui “I need to set off explosions at school to live” kamishiro.

[rattlyglitch]

A Invitation to the Fae Prince

Malleus had stayed up late that night. He felt uneasy for some reason like the next day had events that would unfold. Lilia had joined him by his side playing games on his phone as they sat together. "Are you telling me you don't feel uneasy as well? I mean I highly doubt you don't think something is coming if I do."

Lilia sighed placing his phone down and smiled to Malleus. "I do feel something but it's like a very happy mischief is coming. Something we'll be able to think back on and laugh about or remember at least. Unlike you though I welcome a surprise. Who knows maybe we'll have fun."

Lilia stood up and ruffled Malleus' hair. "In the end, though you know there's nothing to worry about I'll make sure you and everyone else are safe so trust me." Lilia waved goodnight to Malleus before departing to his room. The fae prince felt somewhat comforted by Lilia's words but was still unsure. Malleus knew though that in the end whatever may happen he would be prepared.

///////////

Silver started hearing whispers from students who entered Mr'S store once classes had passed. He wasn't able to make out much but they kept mentioning something called Fleur City and Noble Bell College. It seemed that all that could be heard throughout the after-school hours by anyone who came by the shop was about those two places. Silver as well.

He wanted to know what they were talking about. Eventually, he was able to get answers when Floyd walked into the shop. Silver decided to help him find what he needed and then eventually asked the question that he had been wondering about. "Why is everyone so happy?" Silver patiently waited for an answer even though he hoped to not wait long. Floyd chuckled before crouching down to Silver's height and ruffling his hair.

"Well, Jellyfishy it's because there's going to be a social we'll be attending at another school called Nobel Bell College in a place called Fleur City which is located somewhere called the Land of Pyroxene. Ten people are going to be picked to go on the trip. So everyone is hoping maybe they will be one of the people chosen to go." Silver's face turned from one of surprise to excitement.

"Do you think I'll be able to go?!" Silver had hopes that he would be able to. He would go with all the others who got to go and meet some new people he could befriend. The students could be as exciting as Floyd or as chill as Leona.

"In all honesty Jellyfishy I don't know if you'll be able to go. The ten students going are going to be representatives of the school. You're like a school mascot and usually mascots stay at the school they belong to." Silver's expression fell in disappointment only giving a soft "oh" as a response.

Floyd seemed anxious immediately when Silver's expression fell. "B-but Jellyfishy I'm sure they might allow you to go. I highly doubt you would be left out of going off to have fun." Silver lightened up some and gave a small smile. "Thanks Floyd." He waved goodbye to the eel man and turned around to head back towards Mr'S barely missing the glare he had been shooting at Floyd by a second.

His face had turned to its cheerful smile once again and he helped Silver get back behind the checkout area. Floyd got the things he had come for and left. "Mr'S you think I'll be able to go?" Silver asked looking up at the shop owner. He stared into his eyes deeply trying to sense if what he said was true. Mr'S looked down at Silver. "Of course my little imp. I'm positive that you'll be able to." Those words were all that Silver needed to get him through the nex two hours that went by before he was picked up by Lilia and returned to the Diasmonia dorm.

///////////

Silver was more excited than the rest of the dorm he abided in. Everyone was talking to their friends but Silver was the only one going around the dorm and out of his way to talk about how awesome the social sounded and what he thought it would be like. The ideas he came up with were similar to that of a birthday party. When it came time most everyone was in the dormitory when the people who were announced would be attending.

Silver watched his father look over the list of people nervously and felt his hopes lift when he approached himself, Sebek, and Malleus. The news Lilia gave was even better than Silver had expected. "Silver and Sebek have been chosen to go to the social." Silver had a smile that was wider the ever while Sebek looked flabbergasted.

"This can't be how could Silver and I win the raffle and not you and Malleus?! How did Silver even get his name put into the raffle?!" Lilia laughed at Sebek's reaction. "There is always a winner and loser in lots when pulled. A game of chance per se that is and always will be what it is. Wouldn't you agree Malleus?" Malleus gave a nod and looked at Sebek. "You should be glad to have been chosen as a representative instead of lamenting during a joyous moment. I didn't have time to enter myself into the drawing so that is why I wasn't chosen."

Silver looked up at Malleus confused. "But me and Sebek are your knights. We can't leave you defenseless." Lilia sighed and shook his head. "Don't fret much Silver. You are young and should enjoy this moment. It will have a large impact on your life and Sebek's as well. I have had many fun trips myself so make sure you and Sebek enjoy yourselves as well." Malleus agreed with Lilia lightly patting Silver's head.

"I'm sure you will have enough fun for the two of us." The words Malleus spoke seemed to almost bring Sebek to tears who pledged himself to Malleus once again due to the compassion he showed. Only shortly after the four had conversed Headmage Crowley approached them. "What brings you Headmage?" Lilia asked looking at him intrigued. "I have something to speak of with Draconia about."

Malleus turned his gaze to the Headmage who now had his attention. "What is this about?" Crowley smiled to Malleus. "This may be short notice but I would like to add you to the guest list." A loud "WHAT?!" came from Lilia, Sebek, and Malleus himself while Silver clapped excitedly. "Now we can go together Mallie." Malleus sighed and shook his head. He didn't seem the most pleased and looked up at Crowley. "The raffle was chosen fairly and ten representatives were picked. Why are you adding me now?" Crowley looked at Malleus.

"That was indeed true BUT when telling Nobel Bell College who would attend they requested that you come. Their exact words were 'We MUST positively have the renowned mage Malleus Draconia at the social' they said." Malleus contemplated what the headmage said. Silver felt like the next words the headmage spoke were most likely fake or if they were real used to butter him up with praise. When speaking of how he nurtured Malleus Sebeke was quick to go on the offense but Lilia interrupted him speaking aloud his question.

"They requested Malleus himself?" Crowley gave a small nod. "That is indeed what they said." Malleus' face turned from one of focus to be adjourned with a wide smile. "I shall attend then." Crowley looked over at Malleus. A tad shocked at how quickly the answer was given. "Are you sure Draconia?" Malleus hummed in affirmation. "If they requested me that would me I was invited. I may be thought of poorly if I refuse. So instead I shall gladly accept it." Lillia seemed a bit unsure and disappointed.

"You would." His expression began to please again his regular smile forming in it. "I shalln't reject this opportunity for you since it will be a good experience and you would be able to watch over SIlver as well." Silver looked up at Lilia gripping his forearm. "But Papa this means you'll be alone right?"

"Khee hee hee I have classmates and clubmates to keep me company Silver. Besides the reason for attending his school was to help Malleus to be able to more of the world and visiting another land would be a way we could do this. Besides you and Sebek will be there to watch over him. Right?" Silver nodded determined.

"Of course Papa. I promise to not let you down." Lilia gave Silver a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Silver." Silver giggled happily and hugged Lilia. "Happy to help Papa. Me and Malleus will bring you back a lot of awesome souvenirs too. Right, Mallie?" Malleus who had been standing patiently agreed. "We will Silver. There will be enough. So much that they can't fit in Lilia's arms."

Lilia was pleased by the words his boys had spoken. "Bring me back the shiniest, most fascinating souvenirs you could find hmm?" Silver gave Lilia his pinky. "I promise to Papa." Lilia laughed happily and joined his pinky with Silver's. Crowley didn't seem to care much for the sweet moment only glad that he was able to save face. "You have nothing to worry about. Fleur City is a very safe place and the student council president who sent out the invitations is one of the most trustworthy and upstanding individuals."

Crowley continued to assure Lilia, Sebek still seemed confused but slightly happier that Malleus was coming, and Malleus seemed lost in thought about a gift to show his thanks. Silver was pleased to ignore the chaos from the older people that was happening. All he could think of was how fun the social would be and who he might meet there.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

[like-rain-or-confetti]

(Hey so I'm definitely not new here but I changed my name so I just wanted to let u know lmao)

Hey dork squad my favorite trio (*´∇`)ﾉ

How's your week been?

My week has been hectic, I swear. Since Monday was presidents Day in America we didn't have school, when we went back the next day we had a school shooting .... At my high school and I was present. Thankfully it was a hoax but so many kids/teachers have had theories about it, the one thing that stuck with me was the panic I felt but I was proud of my self that I was able to stay calm and sorta take action and help comfort my friends. On Wednesday we had a snow day bc my state is bipolar af, school was normal today but it snowed as I was walking home it was annoying it kept wetting my glasses :/. Idk what's going to happen tomorrow but I'm ready for it!

Anyways here's a cute little cat meme!

Jonathan would know all about that.

I beg your pardon?

You pulled a gun out on your students.

Yes...and?

Did you pull the trigger, Mr Crane? ♠️

Why would you ask him a thing like that!?

I don't know! It seemed the next thing to ask!♠️

What would you know of fluidity and order- even in social norms!?

The one on the left is looking at me rather peculiarly...♠️

...Exactly my point. Now what are you blabbering on about?

The cat me...me? Me me? It isn't me- is it? Or is it me? Am I the Cheshire cat? What a funny little trick! ♠️

That's not what the conclusion is, Jervis and it is a meme. They're mindsucking, brain bleeding mirages of humour for the young and dumb.

In a world of constant change, pain and sorrow. All that remains is finding comfort in relating to one another. Finding comfort in the pain we had no idea everyone else feels. A world full of expectations, we forget the age old lesson that we never are truly alone. So much so, its argued strongly that for every thought a human has ever had atleast another ten people in the world has had the same thought. Oh, sorry Mr Nygma, I know that must threaten a paradigm shift of sorts.

Crane, I'm going to say this is delicately as I can. Fuck off. Stop smirking at me too.

Language! ♠️

Yes, Edward. Language.

You're antagonising.♠️

Yes, I am. Do you intend to stop me, Jervis?

...Mr Crane, I have no intention of diverting your path for I value my days. ♠️

That's what I thought.

Before I lose any more brain cells to you two- can we get back to the matter at hand?

Ah yes, now is the time to offer a socially acceptable response to show that we are capable of empathy. Therefore...we are so glad to know that you are alright. Such a vile thing to joke of. For the record, I did nothing for humour and I brought it for educational purposes. A prop for class.

But...it is horrible! What kind of joke is that!? ♠️

Ask the Joker.

I'd rather not. ♠️

I see you mentioned controlling your fear...perhaps you'd like to discuss this further?

Don't make me sit through this.

I think the one of the left is trying to tell me something...♠️

DISCLAIMER: I know my rules say that my content doesn't represent my true feelings but had to put this out there to make sure it was clear. I'm so glad this was a hoax. I hope you know that whilst the characters are insensitive- I am horrified you had to experience such a terrible thing and hope you're okay!

[rabbittwist]

Sweet Sugar

SugarDaddy!Albert Wesker X SugarBaby!Reader Sweet Sugar - Pt. 2 Sweet Sugar - Pt. 3

Summary: You, by some stroke of luck, managed to catch the infamous Albert Wesker as your sugar daddy on a common sugar app. Now, in exchange for his financial assistance and rewards, you attend lavish, high-company hosted events to play as his eye candy, and answer every beckoning call for whatever the case may be. At this point in your story, you were acting just as you were instructed to at a high class party a partnering company had thrown in commemoration of the successful partnership. One thing led to another, and you found yourself in the middle of hot gossip. How? Why don't you find out yourself..

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Word Count: 4.4k

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MASTERLIST | Resident Evil List | Albert Wesker

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WARNING: [mild NSFW insinuation, biting, tooth puncture, slight blood, long drabble]

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Your arm was intertwined with Albert's as you both walked through the elevator doors and into the large, crowded ballroom. Many guests turned towards your entrance with the rich billionaire, interest sparking about him before their attentions landed on you with glints of curiosity, and some envy. Upon the usual invitation from Wesker, you were brought to play as his eye candy for another luxurious event held by one of the many high class companies of the world. Instead of it being the common show-of-wealth party, it was a celebratory event for the successful partnership between Umbrella, and Louis Vuitton.

Louis Vuitton was the last company you expected to partner with a military-esk empire such as Umbrella, but from Albert's explanation, his company only partnered with the luxury brand because of financial gain. They needed more funding for their researching teams, and seeing as Umbrella already had their name under almost every item of purchase to exist, what's one opulence label going to change? Well, besides money.

"Mr. Wesker! So good of you to finally make your appearance."

You gazed up at a well dressed brunette, his hair split down the middle to touch his ears and brows. He looked to be in his early 20s, his blue eyes not looking aged in the slightest as they met with yours before meeting with Albert's. He strode towards you with intent, stopping outside of the acquaintance bubble while sticking out his hand for your partner to shake.

Albert took his offer and shook with a simple acknowledgement, "Mr. Tyler."

The representative turned his attention towards you, his smile ever present as he also gave you his hand, "Miss, thank you for coming as well."

You gave him a simple smile, your eyes darting to the side at Wesker as you placed your free hand on his forearm, hesitantly. He gave a short nod at your asking gaze, allowing you to shake the stranger's hand that was offered.

Your smile remained while you gave Mr. Tyler your palm, intending to shake his hand politely as you spoke, "Of course. I wouldn't miss an occasion as special as this."

You took your hand back when the shake was done and placed it back on Albert's arm, Tyler nodding at your response before addressing back to his new company partner, "If it's alright with you, I'd like to speak in private before you go mingle amongst the guests."

This caught Wesker's interest, his brow quirking up at the proposal, "What may be the topic of conversation to pull me away from my spouse?"

You felt your cheeks heat at the mention of being called his spouse, yet remained as calm faced as you could while he gained an answer, "It is talk of funding and payment. We have something important to mention as well that could be added to the contract."

You looked up at Albert, his gloved fingers combing through his groomed locks in a moment of thought. Would you be okay if he left you alone for a few minutes? This partnership wasn't that much of an asset, but the funds Umbrella would gain overnight would help progress his research greatly. But what would happen in that small fraction of time away from you? Surely nothing, and Albert was overthinking things as per usual, but the doe eyed look you gave him was calling to his instincts to stay by your side- .. What was he thinking? He doesn't need to worry about leaving you for a little while, you're not something that should be of top priority right now - his research was far greater than anything you could comprehend, so why was he worried about a measly little girl? This money was a necessity to take bigger steps forward with his projects, and he’ll be damned if he were to damage this relationship over his sugar baby, of all things. Yet, that feeling in his chest at the thought of leaving you..

Wesker allowed his arm to rest by his side once more, his voice hardening noticeably by both you and Tyler, "Why wasn't any of this mentioned during the signing of our contract?"

Something pooled inside of you when you heard his voice harden, the command for an answer over something overlooked sparking warmth in your stomach. You looked over at Mr. Tyler and caught his eyes glimmering with apprehension, looking to find words to actually give an answer while he lightly licked his upper lip.

When he had remembered, after being caught off guard, the brunette gave a professional smile, “Our sponsors wished to pitch in after hearing of our partnership. So, another calculation must be made of how much currency Umbrella will receive.”

“Why must this be done in my presence?” Albert continued to question.

Tyler still struck back, “It is a matter of legal witness by both you and a present lawyer.”

You felt the muscles you were intertwined with tense, your eyes gazing at Albert’s now tight fist as his bicep and forearm contracted under your touch. You remained quiet and continued to listen on their conversation, “And what about the other matter?”

“That is not something I have knowledge of, “ Mr. Tyler sighed while crossing his arms, “Two of the sponsors were adamant on talking to you alone about the subject.”

Albert clenched his jaw, taking in a deep breath of tense air; it was the mental struggle of leaving you that was affecting him so bad in the head. On a normal basis, he would just excuse himself from his partner and go about business, but with you, it was like a battle within himself to stay by your side. He didn’t understand. Why were you so different? He just wanted to handle his partnership like usual, but instead, he was throwing a whole questionnaire the kid’s way in an attempt to stay with you if it wasn’t all that important.

As if sensing the inner conflict in Wesker, you slid a hand down his arm and to his fist, rubbing a careful thumb against the gloved appendage in a comforting manner. He noticed this gesture and looked down at you with a sideways glance, his head soon turning fully to you when he saw you were about to say something to him.

You gave him a warm look as you spoke, your eyes looking impossibly more doe-like, “It’s alright, you can go with Mr. Tyler for the contract details. I’ll be just fine by the bar..”

Albert took a moment to bask in your words, before a harsh look adorned his features as he looked back at the other male. He hid his conflicting frustration very well, the outside showing no bother as years of serving his country and past captain work with S.T.A.R.S. trained his body into molding masks at the drop of a pin. All Daniel Tyler could see was a calm, intimidating Albert Wesker silently communicating with his beloved. That calm appearance was dropped, however, when the man himself gave him the harsh look he now adorned. Despite his tinted shades that kept his eyes hidden, you knew the glare that hid behind the black covered lens all too well from how his body straightened and voice deepened.

“Seven minutes, and that’s all I’ll spare you.”

-

You stood by the bar just as you told Wesker, your finger gliding around the rim of your almost finished strawberry daiquiri. This was your second glass of the sweet drink, the alcohol barely kicking into your system from the rum added into the mix (a little more than what the recipe called for). The tipsy sensation was definitely making its place known in your system, yet you found yourself still able to put on a sober facade against the many people that came to greet you; you assumed the only reason they bothered with your presence was because of your connection to Albert Wesker, their greed for a possible spot by his side through you showing from their overly sweet manners.

"Mr. Wesker has such good taste- your dress is gorgeous! Who is the designer?"

"That necklace is beautiful for your complexion! Did Wesker pick it out for you?"

"I must know who Albert brought in to do your hair, it compliments your face perfectly. Would you mind sending me his details for the dresser?"

It was the same question at the end of every accolade. "Would you please give me Albert Wesker's contact information?"

They must've thought you were naive enough to fall for their sugar coated lies, because that glimmer of deceiving dark was all too obvious. Before, you would've given his information without a question asked, your fear of being somehow targeted and erased from existence forcing your hand. But now, knowing who you serve under as his kept woman, you knew you'd be safe against the dark of high society. Albert laid down rules in your contract of how to act and what to do in an event such as this, and amongst the lay down, he warned you of the snakes in the tall grass. He assured nothing would happen to you if you avoided such questions, and that denying them these details was a must unless he said otherwise.

In response to their questioning, you'd give them an innocent smile before plastering on a thoughtful expression as you spoke, "Thank you for the kind remarks, I'll make sure Albert's aware of them. Sadly, I don't know his contact information as he has yet to inform me of his business details. I'll let his secretary know of your need for his connection."

With that, your conversation would end and they would leave you back to your drinking. It was annoying that they only wanted you for their own benefit, because you genuinely wanted to be friends with some of these people, but it is what it is, you suppose. You looked at the smoothie-like drink and watched the straw mix the already stirred liquid. Bored. You felt bored. Wesker still hasn’t come back yet, and it’s only been - you take a look at the time - 4 minutes. Huh, you guess he really meant 7 minutes. You sighed quietly as you gazed at the crowd behind you and took another sip from your straw.

"Hello there."

The silky tone of the stranger's voice caught you off guard, a heat now present on your cheeks because of the huskiness you picked up on. You ignored the greeting, thinking they were talking to someone else, and continued to sip on your drink. A deep chuckle rang through your ears as a hand touched your shoulder, causing you to almost spit out your daiquiri before turning to meet whoever was now touching you.

The person in question let out another laugh, raising his hands in defense, "Woah, easy there! I didn't mean to startle you."

The rough southern accent caught you off guard, but you plastered on a warm smile, nonetheless, "It's alright. I just didn't think you were talking to me."

The male returned the smile, his eyes trailing up and down your body as he let out a low whistle, "You look mighty fine in that dress, if you don't mind me sayin'."

An awkward chuckle escaped you, but you quickly covered it with a confident posture, and crossed your arms, "Need to tell Mr. Wesker that?"

He gave a small shake of his head, the deep brown hair shaking with his momentum, "Why tell him that when you're the one wearin' it?"

This caught you by surprise, but you smiled at the comment while joking, "Someone finally sees my worth."

The stranger gave a small laugh, "You have a lot more than you know!"

You felt your cheeks warm up, but stayed neutral with the look you gave him. He stepped towards you and bowed his head, "The name's Alexander McCandless. I'm a representative from Louis Vuitton.. And you would be?"

Alexander gazed up at you with a warm smile, offering his hand for yours as you allowed him to take your palm, "(Y/n) (L/n). I was invited to attend with my partner."

When you thought he would shake hands, he did something unexpected that made your breathing get caught in your throat. Alexander took your knuckles up to his lips and gave them a small peck, his eyes still connected with yours while taking his time with the kiss. Your eyes widened at the gesture, and you felt much hotter in the face as a churning sensation rested at the pit of your stomach.

When he pulled back and straightened his posture, he kept your knuckles close to his lips with a grin of interest, "What a shame. I should be the one to invite you next time, Miss (L/n)."

You pulled your hand away quickly and hid it behind your back with your pairing appendage, now holding them together tightly as your nerves entered your system, "I don't think my spouse would fancy another man taking me around.."

McCandless let out a soft scoff, "It would only be as friends, nothing more.. Unless, you see me as something more?"

You felt your palms get sweaty, now fully uncomfortable with the male in front of you, "We just met, and I would never betray my lover no matter who may stand before me."

"Of course, of course.. Say, would you mind accompanying me around? My partner is handlin' business with the new partnership, and I have no company."

You shook your head politely, "No thank you. I promised to stay at the bar and wait for him to return.. I'm sure another woman would be glad to walk around with you."

Alexander took another step forward, you suddenly feeling pinned against the bar countertop, "It'll only be for a couple of minutes, darlin'. I promise to bring you right back."

Okay, this has gone on long enough. Just when you were about to snap at him, you felt a hand snake its way around your waist and pull you into a solid side. Your hands snapped up onto the person's tuxedo in an attempt to keep yourself stable, the grip on your waist tight in a protective hold as you sunk into their side.

"She said no, Mr. McCandless."

Wesker was livid, from what you could feel, his voice deep and threatening despite the calm look he had on his face (well, it was as calm as he could get it despite the obvious angered look on his face).

"Mr. Wesker!" Alexander said in awe before it contorted into anxious nerves as he looked between you and Albert, "I had no clue this was your spouse!"

How badly Wesker wanted to scoff at his stupidity, but his beyond pissed off mood was preventing any sort of sarcasm to escape him, "Yet, even when my wife said she had a spouse, you continued to harass her?"

You glanced around at the crowd that began to form, gossip ringing through the guests at the scene before them. You began to feel anxious and clutched onto Albert's tuxedo tighter while trying to hide your face by looking away.

"I didn't want to leave her alone for someone to harass her, sir. You got it all wrong!"

You felt the hold on your waist tighten in a painful grasp, Wesker's patience thinning quickly at the southerner's excuses, "I've heard enough from you, Mr. McCandless."

The male in question went quiet, "I will make sure appropriate action is taken against you for blatantly trying to bedevil my. Wife."

The way Albert ingrained into Alexander's skull that you were his wife was causing embarrassment to flush into you, so much so that you tugged on his tux to get his attention.

He snapped his head down at you, your puppy eyes softening him just barely, and your voice releasing the tension in his chest, "Can we.. please leave? They're staring.."

Albert straightened up, noticing your discomfort from all the attention, and acknowledging your wish, "We're leaving. Move aside."

At his command, the crowd parted to let you through, murmurs going about the guests over what just occurred. You pressed up against Wesker in a feeble attempt to hide yourself better, him noticing and pulling you as close as possible. You found comfort in the scent of his cologne, and sniffed subtly at his jacket as the dopamine flooded your sensors, calming your nerves. You both strode back to the elevator you came from, and Albert called for the lift with the press of a button. You both waited, the feeling of large attention all over you as clear as day, yet you paid little mind to prevent anymore stress on your brain. When the elevator arrived and opened, Albert gestured for you to get in first while he held the doors apart with his now stuck out arm. You had no intention to argue and went straight inside, continuing to look at the ground to avoid the obvious stares that examined your being. Wesker went in after you, pressing the button that would take you down to the parking lot while placing his arm around your shoulder blades and tugging you to him. The last thing the crowd saw before the doors closed was a very pissed off Albert Wesker, and his anxious "wife."

When the doors did shut, the silence felt louder than usual, more tense. It lasted for what felt like ages before you built up the courage to finally talk.

"Mr. Wesker," You quietly spoke, "I'm so sorry-"

You were slammed against the lift walls, a sharp gasp leaving your lips while you quickly lift your hands up to Albert's chest. His hands were planted on either side of your head, giving you no room to escape his clutches as he peered down at your now shaking figure. When he spoke, his voice spat venom with every word, and the grip he had on the wall strained against his fingers.

"Did that filthy bastard touch you?"

You felt the air get caught in your throat at his curse - he never cursed, even when he's pissed he kept his composure clean and scary. If you were barely red before, you were definitely scarlet now, and you could no longer keep eye contact with Wesker as you looked at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Your voice was shaky as you gave him a response, not having it in you to lie, "Y-yes.. He did.."

The sharpness of his tone made you flinch, "Where did he touch you?"

"Mr. Wesker, it's really not necessary-"

He slammed his hand against the wall, causing you to yelp and go quiet, "Where. Did. He. Touch. You."

The assertive actions he made caused you to press your legs together, a dirty sensation ripping through you like a wave and straight towards your lower end. You were ashamed you actually enjoyed this side of him, but you couldn't help how your body reacted with his dominance.

Despite this, you took a deep breath and stuttered out an answer, "H-he touched my shoulder.. And.. A-And.."

"And?"

You kept quiet for a moment longer before raising your eyes to his shades, "And he.. kissed my hand.."

Albert remained silent at your confession, his voice reaching a deeper octave than before when he finally spoke, "Which shoulder did he grab?"

"My right, sir.."

In one swift movement, Albert flipped your body towards the wall, and you let out a shocked gasp as your chest pressed tightly against the lift. He proceeded to then shove your hair over your left shoulder to give him a better view of your right, and pulled down the strap that rested against your skin.

"Mr. Wesker- oh!"

His hands intertwined with yours against the wall before you felt his lips press against your shoulder over and over, your eyes tightly shutting at the wonderful sensation. You pressed your backside flush against him in response, his chest radiating warmth into your body, and his crotch pressed tightly against your rear. He growled against your flesh before doing something you least expected. Albert bit down harshly into your shoulder, his fanged teeth breaking through your body and earning a pained whine from you as he marked your skin in an animalistic fashion.

"A-Albert, it hurts.. Please, let go!" You complained almost pathetically.

He then went on to suck on your flesh and taste your crimson fluid while leaving a dark hickey paired with the bite. He practically purred at your second pained whine before growling when you tried pulling away, his grip on your hands tightening and pushing them more against the lift's walls. You had no choice but to accept his claiming actions with a high pitched sigh, your eyes now fluttering partially open and brows furrowing up into a pleasured expression. Sensing your submission, Albert released his hold on your shoulder and licked the punctured skin in an attempt to sooth the stinging aftermath as a reward of sorts.

He leaned his head back and away from your marked shoulder to admire his work, licking up the bloody mess from the corner of his mouth before tasting the rest on his lips. He relished the taste of your blood against his tongue, a feral look now lingering in his hidden eyes as he stared at the bitten, bruised skin. Albert released a deep, proud sigh over what he'd done, now leaning down into your ear close enough so you could feel his hot breath blow against your vulnerable shell.

With a low, thick voice, he spoke straight into your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to stand, and goosebumps to litter down your back, "No man or woman is allowed to touch you. You belong to me, just as much as I belong to you."

You whimpered at his harsh toned words, somehow finding it in you to bite back, "I'm just your sugar baby, and nothing more! I don't understand why you're claiming me!"

Albert let out a dark chuckle before snapping back, "According to the contract you signed, you're my woman despite being my sugar baby. In fact, you practically lit up when it was mentioned during our meeting, so why, dearheart, do you sound so distraught over something you agreed to?"

You were about to respond, yet when you tried speaking words, nothing came out, and you slowly closed your mouth as result of that. He was right. I did agree to it. When you had no comeback, he smirked at your silence before moving on.

"Now.. Which hand did he kiss?"

You shakily sighed, flexing the fingers on your right hand, "My right, sir.."

Slowly, his right hand untangled from the hold he had on yours before grazing it under your palm, interlocking with your fingers once again. With a teasingly long moment, Wesker pulled your hand back towards himself, and made sure you could see everything he was about to do; he began to kiss the very knuckles that scumbag had the audacity to peck. You felt a stronger heat rest in your groin as you watched Albert's lips claim your knuckles with soft, delicate kisses. It caused a pleasured exhale to escape from your chest, and he couldn't help but smirk against your skin as he continued to blissfully abuse each knuckle.

He took a moment to pull away from your hand, stating the obvious that you so desperately tried to hide, "Don't think for a second that I don't see how your body is reacting to me. Your thighs pressing together under that dress. Your heavy breathing. The way your eyes are watching every kiss I place on your knuckles.. You're practically an open book, my dear little (Y/n)."

Albert placed another long kiss on your hand before speaking again, his lips making a quiet smacking noise as he pulled away, "When we get to my housing, do not get ready to leave."

You stammered from the sudden order, "W-why?"

He pulled back from a third kiss, "You won't be going home tonight."

Wesker kept away from your hand as he continued, "This tie I'm wearing has many uses, dearheart, and I'm determined to find out where it would look best on your body.. Perhaps tied around your wrists as I give you slow affection? Or maybe wrapped around that pretty little neck of yours as I ravage your body, and rid it of any remembrance of that fools' touch?"

You let out an involuntary squeak at his words, earning a deep chuckle from the blonde behind you. With a sigh against your knuckles, he pulled back from his returning kiss once more, "Your body is positively divine. I can't leave it alone any longer and let scum like that think it's for the taking. You will feel every part of me tonight, taste every part of me tonight.. You will be claimed by my hand like no other could ever dream of doing."

When Albert was about to go in for another kiss, the elevator dinged to signify the arrival of your stop. He hummed in response to the noise, peeling away from your quivering body while taking your arm in his just as before. You were stood in shock over what just occurred in the privacy of an elevator out of all things. You stared at the opening doors before realizing that you were now harshly marked on your right shoulder, and your strap was drooping down your arm. With a quick fix, you placed it back in its spot and did your best to hide the feral blemish with your hair, a rough hand soon moving your locks onto your left shoulder to keep it from being hidden. You glanced up at Albert, getting ready to place your hair back until you felt his side gaze on you through the tinted shades. He was facing forward, but the concealed look he gave you told you everything you needed to know; Keep your hair out of the way. Let everyone see the claim I’ve made on you.

God, what have you agreed to?

-

[rednights]

Dear Mr. Right

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: During the week leading up to valentine's day you begin to receive love letters from an anonymous writer. For some weird reason, the handwriting looks exactly like your new English partner’s: Peter Parker.

WC: 4.2k

TW: Peter being an idiot with a crush, reader who hates Valentine’s day, tooth-rotting fluff that chipped away at my lonely soul. Mentions of anxiety (lip biting, bouncing leg up and down to relieve stress)

AN: happy valentines day!! And ignore my mistakes </3

You do not have permission to re-post my work anywhere. It’s my shit, don’t steal it.

Dear Y/n,

Roses are red We’re told that violets are blue I can’t admit my feelings But please know they’re true

February approaches And the sun still shines Though not as bright as you Would you ever think to be mine?

I’ll watch from afar Eternally gazing at you If the world contains any mercy Maybe you’ll feel the same too

I’m no savior I’m certainly no knight I’m a horrible poet But maybe I’m your Mr. Right

- Your secret admirer

“I see Mystery Boy has struck again,” A familiar voice calls, standing out in the crowded halls of Midtown High.

“Jesus!” You yelp, your heart freezing in your chest as you shove the note that was once in your hand deep into the pocket of your pants. “A little warning next time, Michelle?”

“Never,” She chortles, standing to the left of you. She glances at the outline of your newest letter before questioning, “Is this love confession 36 or 37?”

Small strands of her curly brown hair frame her face as the two of you begin to walk down the halls, books in hand, drowning in the sea of students. There’s a certain buzz in the air, the one that only comes out when Valentine's Day is near. Hundreds of couples are pressed up against one another, as if being separated for more than a single second would cause them the most hideous pain.

Lips on lips, hands in pockets, jackets around shoulders, it’s almost sickening in a way. Red and pink streamers are hung up in the hall, and you recognize the penmanship of one Betty Brant on the posters that advertise the school’s annual ‘Lover’s Dance’.

It truly wasn’t anything important. Just the 14th of February, it happened every year and only lasted 24 hours, just like every other day. Except for some reason, the entire month was dedicated to the singular event. Pharmacy after pharmacy filled with cheap, dirty cards and stuffed toys, as if it represented love in any real way.

It was safe to say you weren’t a big fan.

Well, until now.

At the beginning of the month, much to your dismay, you started to receive little notes through the slits of your locker. At first, they were small compliments, just a simple, ‘you look really pretty today :)’ or ‘I really like your shirt! It brings out your eyes.’

Then, they progressed into small words of encouragement, wishes of luck for upcoming tests, and reminders to take care of yourself. Now, whoever he is has taken a liking to poems, and has begun to spill his heart onto the red and blue sticky notes that he shoves in between the cracks of your life.

When Mystery Boy first started his little gig, you were slightly caught off guard. After all, what were the points of love letters and secret admirers? It seemed like such a senseless notion, so you paid no mind.

However, as the days passed and the shoe box under your bed began to fill with the folded paper entries, you found yourself curious about what he would write next. Did you know him? Did you share any classes together? After all, just how much attention was he paying? You even styled your hair a different way to see if he would notice. He did, and once again, he expressed his adoration through words on paper.

And so, a week until the once dreaded date, you let the small letter burn a hole in the pocket of your pants as you walked to your first class of the day.

“It’s not 37,” you grumble in response, “It’s 23, thank you very much,”

“It concerns me that you know the exact number. Please don’t tell me that you’re letting little Edgar Allen Poe get to you. I thought you weren’t into that kind of stuff?” MJ inquires, peering at you curiously. She’s never been a big fan of cheesy romance either, something that you both love to mock come each February.

“I’m not! I’m just curious is all…”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!” You protest, scrambling your words slightly. “It’s just weird is all! I’ve never had a secret admirer, so I don’t really know what to do in this situation.”

“Do you think he might ask you to the dance?” MJ asks, shuffling behind a pair of freshmen who are glued to each other's side. “Most importantly, if he did ask, would you say yes?”

The thought makes you gulp. You? A dance? The event never truly crossed your mind, just another thing to ignore, overlook, and simply not care about.

“It doesn’t matter what my answer would be MJ, I don’t know who he is. How am I supposed to go with him if he’s anonymous? How would I even tell him, seeing as I’m almost positive he's never uttered a single word to me?”

“Who knows,” She drags on, eyes shifting around, “maybe he’d ask you in person?”

“I doubt it, he seems so shy in his letters,”

You frown as the words leave your lips. Your poet seems nervous in himself, but confident in his words. You haven’t known him long, but there’s no need for him to force himself to do something he isn’t ready for.

“Getting attached, are we?” She pesters further.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of angsty teenage romance in the halls,”

//

“Good morning folks!” Your cheery English teacher says with far too much enthusiasm for nine o’clock in the morning. “As I mentioned last week, today we’re starting our poetry assignments!”

How fitting.

“In a moment,” they continue, pulling out a list, “I’ll assign you your new partners! Remember guys! Each partner must pick out a romance poem. When you both have read and analyzed the work, you’ll then write an essay comparing the similarities and differences in the writing styles!”

Subtle groans in protest arise, yet you’re more aggravated by the damn holiday than the assigned partners. Wherever Mystery Boy is, you hope he’s having a better day than you are.

As the names were called, and possible partners kept disappearing, you gave up hope of being paired with a person you were friends with. Bored and grumpy, you blocked out the slight chatter as students moved around the room. Of course, you were going to be paired with some half-wit asshole who wouldn’t dare to contribute anything more than their name, and it’ll be your job to-

“-And you’re with Y/n!”

Shit. I finally got a partner and I don’t even know who it is.

“Y/n, did you hear me?” The teacher asks from the front of the room, “You’re with Peter, he sits over there!”

Your brows furrow. Peter?

Peter... Parker? That strangely smart kid who MJ is sort of friends with? You slightly smile to yourself, maybe you won’t have to carry this assignment after all.

Your eyes wander around the room until they find the unfamiliar head of curls, and you walk towards his desk that’s two rows over. There’s a small spring in your step, after all, if MJ can tolerate this guy, (which is very rare), maybe he’s not so bad?

“Peter, right?” You ask him as you plop into the seat next to him, pencil clutched tightly in your hand. There’s an awkward pause between the two of you as he nods his head. His cheeks are a deep shade of red, brown doe eyes staring back into yours.

“So, any idea what poem you wanna do?” You ask, a smile gracing your lips as you twirl your pencil around your fingers, flipping through the many different poets in your mind.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He looks nervous, incredibly so, and you wondered if maybe, deep down, he had a hidden fear of poetry.

It wouldn’t surprise you. Nothing does anymore.

“Ok…” You begin, “Well, we could look at some from Edgar Allen Poe, obviously, or William Blake, maybe even Charlotte Smith?”

When he didn’t respond, you internally grimaced. Didn’t this kid have an internship with Tony Stark? You weren’t going to waste your time sitting here in this uncomfortably warm chair just to have Peter refuse to pitch in.

“Look, if you're not gonna do anything, just tell me now and I’ll work on my ow-”

“No!” He blurts, a bit louder than he intended to, and you cringed at the sudden noise. You caught a few groups quickly glance over before stiffly peeling their eyes away. “I mean- ‘m gonna do my work I swear! M-Maybe we should make a list or something?”

The word vomit rests heavily in the air as you slowly nod and begin to open up to a blank page of your journal.

This dude is... weird.

You began to brainstorm, Peter beside you, watching as your brows furrowed, scribbling out different titles and themes of famous romantic poems. You were lost in concentration, and he was seemingly lost in you.

“Here,” you say, sliding the notebook over to him, “Write down a couple of your favorites, then sort through them later,” You end your statement with a small smile. There’s no reason to be rude, and the poor boy seems to be shaking. The least you could do was have some common courtesy, even if the swirling events of a useless holiday were tossing your insides around like a rag-doll.

He trembled slightly before writing down a few titles, grasping his pencil with such force you were surprised it didn’t crumble under the pressure. His jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t help but stare. Weird? Sure. Incredibly attractive? Absolutely.

His hair spilled over his forehead, and his sweater was pushed up to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms. Long, slender fingers worked quickly as he gracefully created a list right beside yours, irises tracing back and forth as he contemplated his choices.

“I think I know which one I want to do,” he mumbles, the words falling from his thin pink lips. “Love’s Philosophy,”

“Percy Bysshe Shelley, good choice.” Your words are soft, yet true. You had memorized that poem when you were younger, and it never seemed to leave you.

“And the sunlight clasps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea,” You began, pulling the stanza from a hidden part in your brain.

“What is all this sweet work worth if thou kiss not me?”

You freeze slightly, your breath lodged in your throat. You’ve read this poem hundreds of times, yet hearing Peter mumble the last line seemed foreign in the best of ways. You refused to meet his gaze as you wordlessly took the journal back, checking the clock only to realize you had moments before the bell rang.

“Um,” You clear your throat, desperate for the lump that has magically appeared to dissipate, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

When you look back up, he’s staring heavily into your soul, and suddenly you feel far too warm. Heat rises to your face, and you feel yourself sizzling.

This is pathetic, he’s just a boy.

A very cute one, but that doesn’t matter. Not right now.

He nods as the bell rings, and you book it to your next class.

You didn’t have time for cheesy love letters.

And you certainly didn’t have time for Peter Parker.

//

Later on in the evening, you’re splayed out on your bed, sheets askew with your English journal right in front of you. You had been going back and forth between “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allen Poe, a classic, but something that might be overused, or “Love and Age” by Thomas Love Peacock, another beautiful piece of literature that had a deep hold on you.

You looked over to Peter’s chart, his chicken-scratch handwriting printed on your page. Though, the more you looked at it, the more familiar it became. The way he crossed his T’s, the subtle swoop of his A’s, and the curves of his E’s.

You knew that handwriting.

“What the hell..?” you murmur, shoving your pen between the pages of the book. You hopped off your bed and crouched down on the floor, fishing for the small box that was hidden in the darkness. When your hand touched the corner, you grasped it tight and tugged it out.

It was filled to the brim with crumpled and torn sticky notes, words smudged and jumbled together in a heaping mess of romance. Very quickly, you dumped all of them out on your comforter and began to shuffle through them.

Your heart was in your throat as you clumsily flipped through the pages of your journal to find a sample of Peter’s handwriting. Titles after titles of the world’s most romantic poems, something that looks more like a Hallmark website than an actual assignment.

Your hands are drenched in sweat by the time you reach to grab one of the matching sticky notes, the deafening silence leaving a poisonous ring in your ears and a hollow feeling in your chest. You fear the worst before it happens, bracing yourself for whatever blast of emotions you might experience the moment you put the pieces together. Time doesn’t listen to your pleas as the realization dawns on you.

Nerdy Peter Parker is Mystery Boy.

Sweet, warm, loving words written on cheap paper, hidden in the comfort of your locker, barely taking up space under your bed. The phrases have been ripped away from you, and nothing feels sacred.

Does he mean what he writes? Does he know how much it makes your heart race every time his pen hits the page? Does he realize that you love this so much you almost hate it? Does he lie awake thinking about you in the way that you think about him?

Would he ever understand how terrified this feeling makes you?

You don’t have the heart to be angry, but you do have the right to be confused.

How long has he felt like this? Why didn’t he say anything? Was he prepared to wait days? Weeks? Months?

You chewed your lip raw until it began to bleed, your leg bopping up and down, faster than your heartbeat, which was louder than the ringing in your ears.

This is insanely stupid. There’s no reason to be acting like this.

“I need to go to bed,” you sigh, rubbing your palms over your eyes before shoving everything back into that damn box, willing yourself to forget it.

Unfortunately for you, your budding feelings were harder to hide.

//

Ok, you’ll admit, you didn’t think this one through.

When you promised yourself you’d do your best to ignore his gestures and act like a civilized person, you didn’t realize he’d be sitting across MJ at your sacred lunch table. The table where you mocked, criticized, judged, and just overall became a sarcastic mess.

It’s alright, I’m gonna be fine, it’ll be great.

You forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other, clenching your jaw as you walked up to a group of Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, Michelle Jones, and one Peter Benjamin Parker.  

You pulled out the new book you had started to read, shoving your nose so far in you could practically smell the ink. You re-read the same page over and over again, almost walking into a freshman. Anything to avoid human confrontation.

“Well good morning to you too,” MJ chortles, shutting the book of her own, “whatcha reading?”

“Another Colleen Hoover book that is bound to wreck my emotional stability for a week. I swear this woman has it out for me.” You groan. You looked up and said your hellos to the rest of the group, hoping they’d move on and leave you alone, but not everything goes your way.

“Why is it that the only romances you enjoy are the ones that have such a hard journey?” Betty asks in between sips of her water, blonde hair tied into a proper bun with not one piece out of place.

“Because Betty,” you start, sending a brief glance to Peter who has taken quite the interest in the soggy food before him, “love is a fleeting feeling that is destined to destroy the souls of the innocent.”

You take pride in the eye rolls you receive.

“I'm shitting with you, Brant. Hoover is an exceptional writer and I like her style.”

Normally you wouldn’t have corrected yourself, but the fleeting dash of despair that overtook Peter’s eyes was enough to have you regret every word.

As conversation followed, you tried not to notice every time Peter’s big honey eyes traced your face and the way h- nope. Stopping now.

But for every time he looked away, he’d never notice all of the times you’d look back.

Close to the end of lunch, a terrible idea popped into your head.

Peter Parker wouldn’t happen to have any sticky notes on hand, would he?

“Hey, does anyone have a sticky note? I need one,” you ask, watching Peter tense. He toyed with you often, why not return the favor?

Betty hummed as she searched through her bag, pushing around her color-coded notes and mechanical pens, but ultimately coming up empty-handed. You knew MJ didn't have any, and Ned didn’t bring his bag, so just as you planned it, Peter was the last man standing.

“I -uhm,” he gulps, and you look him dead in the eye, “red or blue?”

“Hm, can I have both?” You peer, pushing him. He’s breaking, his ink is spilling out onto a new page and you’d burn the world just to read it.

He pushes the stack towards you, thin hairs standing tall on his arms, daring you to speak.

And you just can't help yourself when you say, “Thanks, Peter! You’re my Mr. Right.”

//

When the bell rings, you’re more than ready to leave. Nothing else matters besides exiting the premises as you weave through people, clenching your jaw at those who walk incredibly slow.

Your combination is muscle memory, and it doesn’t take you long to pop open your locker. When the metal squeaks and the hinges groan, another poem falls gracefully to the floor, and suddenly time stops.

The paper feels familiar against your hand. You know the sensation and it brings you comfort. You know the writing, the script, the way he rhymes, and the way he lets you see small glimpses of himself that leave you craving more. You’re hesitant to read it, but ultimately give in. When it comes to Mystery Boy, now known as Peter Parker, you’ll always give in.

I worry now That you’ll leave Because you don't like The heart on my sleeve

I fear you know The secret I keep Locked away So you won’t see

Tell me we’re ok Tell me this won't change Say we’ll be alright And I’ll take the blame

I understand If the writing needs to stop I’ll throw away the paper And the pen will be dropped

But if you change your mind If this is just in my head Then please say something And end my dread

Atop a swing is where I’ll sit Waiting in the night Come and find me, it won’t be tough I’ll show you I’m Mr. Right

- Your secret admirer

Well shit.

He wants to meet you? Tonight?

That's a little risky. Nevertheless, incredibly tempting.

You lift your head up and scan the hallways in search of Peter, but he’s nowhere to be found. All that remains is the crumpled stanzas and your mixed emotions that are fighting a war with one another.

Like water and oil, your thoughts clashed. What's the harm in going? Besides, why would you leave him alone in the dark?

No. No. The harm in going is obvious. His kind words that weaseled into your heart went against everything you stood for, and you promised you’d never become a “lovey-dovey” hopeless romantic.

But it’s Peter! Sweet, adorable, rosy-cheeked Peter who writes you notes and takes time out of his day to slide them in your locker. Smart, wonderful Peter who deserves the world and everything it has to offer.

Peter Parker who gives you his heart and trusts you not to break it.

You’re going, there's no doubt about it.

//

Atop a swing is where I’ll sit Waiting in the night Come and find me, it won’t be tough I’ll show you I’m Mr. Right

The air nips at your skin as you walk across the uneven pavement, up to the only park in Queens. It’s old and simple, nothing special, but it reminds you of better times and you find yourself missing certain parts of it.

The sun is setting, bleeding out onto the sky. The dusty red fights the deep blue that threatens to take over the night sky, and you chuckle at the color choices.

The last final moments of the sun glare in your eyes as you walk up the final hill, shoes scuffing against the pavement with each step. The world is quiet, and for once you embrace the silence in your mind.

When the ground peaks, you stop.

There he is, faced towards the sun, exactly where he said he would be.

His back is tense, and it takes everything in you not to soothe him the way he does you. His curls shift in the cold wind, and the mulch beneath his feet shuffle every time he swings slightly.

You never realized how beautiful he really is, inside and out. He’s shown you parts of himself that he thought he’d keep locked away forever, and you know you want to see more. Even the small things that shouldn't matter, but do. Like if he prefers chocolate or Vanilla, or if he’s team Edward or Jacob. What his comfort movie is, what food he hates, the song stuck in his head, or even what he had for lunch.

You want to learn, and you’ll let him teach you.

You know him through his words, through his pages, through the box you keep to yourself, and you hope with time, you’ll gain more.

He hears you coming, the ruffle of your sweater is a dead giveaway. He lets you stare, after all, he’s surprised you came. He’d wait forever in the sun until the only light is the moon. You can watch as long as you like, he doesn't mind.

Your heartbeat calms him. Even if you’re taking your time to approach him, he’s glad to see you.

When you do finally work up the courage to sit beside him, all you can do is stare. His freckles dance like wildfire, his eyes trace your face, and the two of you see each other in a new light for the first time.

“So,” you speak first, breaking the comfortable silence, “You’re Mystery Boy?”

He expects to hear resentment in your voice, but it's simply pure curiosity. There's no malice, no venom, no poison; just you.

“Yeah, how’d you figure it out? Was I that obvious?” He asks, lips quirking into a smile.

“No, actually. At first, I honestly had no idea who you were. I memorized your handwriting from the letters, and then realized the poem list that you wrote in my notebook during English looked far too familiar,”

He’s surprised at the confession. You memorized his handwriting?

“And I confirmed my suspicions during lunch, wanted to see if you carried the supplies around with you,” you stared straight ahead when you confessed your words, embarrassment wrapping itself around your throat like a noose.

“I always keep them on me. I never know when I’ll have a free moment so I kinda learned to work around it.” He follows after. His words are kind, and there’s no trace of bitterness.

“Who knew that Peter Parker would be a poetry master?” You tease, enjoying the way the tips of his ears turn the same shade of the dying sun. There’s a silent acceptance of what’s growing between the two of you, warmth seeping into your dry bones despite the sharp cold.

“Thank you,” you say after a while, causing Peter to look at you once more. “Your notes were some of the best parts of my day,”

“And what happened to hating hopeless romantics?”

You groan and bury your head in your hands, squeezing your eyes tight. Your words are muffled as you reply, “Oh my god, you sound like Michelle,”

He laughs as you shrink into yourself, but you know he means no harm. To prove it to you, he hesitantly grabs a hold of your hand, and you have no problem letting him.

“Will you let me change your mind?”

He’s vulnerable. He’s showing you another part of himself that you'll never forget, no matter how hard you try.

“Alright, Peter. You can be my Mr. Right,”

reblogs are deeply appreciated! they make my day fr

[angstama]

apple tree | chifuyu.m

pairing: chifuyu matsuno x reader

genre: angst, slow-burn, unrequited love, pining, fluff, chifuyu doesn’t love you that way :( 

warnings: as usual, heartbreak coming ahead <3

✧. in which you look back on the times that chifuyu had been the highlight and heartbreaker in your youth. 

you were five when you first met chifuyu matsuno under the big apple tree one summer day. 

head deep into bending the fragile weeds into a flower crown when a blonde haired boy with the prettiest ocean blue eyes approached you. “what are you doing?” he asked curiously, licking his already melting chocolate ice cream while looking at the imperfectly balanced flower that you had spent hours on crafting in your hands. “making a flower crown.” you answered simply, not even sparing the blonde haired boy a glance as you were too focused in tweaking the branches. 

“woah that’s awesome!” he beamed in excitement, plopping down next to you instantly and leaning in closer to take a look at it. “yeah i know right!” you smiled in triumph, finally looking up to see whoever was showing interest in your little hobby and behold, there sat chifuyu in a rainbow striped t-shirt with his legs crossed and eyes gleaming with interest.

 in all honesty, your flower crowns were horribly ugly, but in chifuyu’s eyes it was uniquely you. perhaps it was maybe because he hadn’t seen anyone making an actual flower crown before or perhaps maybe he was just feeling sorry for the girl who always sat alone under the big apple tree that never bloomed a single fruit all year round. whichever it was, you wished that it was the first. “teach me how to make one please!” he grabs your wrist, causing your cheeks to burn under the scorching hot sun and heart rate quickening though you were clueless as to why it happened being only at the age of five, so you decided that it was okay to have him around. 

strangely ever since then, you were never seen alone under the apple tree in the park again. 

you were nine when you first understood the concept of crushes, with the help of your best friend, chifuyu matsuno of course. 

“it’s when you want to share the biggest chicken drumlet with them dummy!” chifuyu explained, voice muffled from stuffing his face with fried chicken one after another. you weren’t sure how the two of you derived at the current topic, though you remember the last you checked, chifuyu was rambling on and on about the new girl in your class. “so, you’d share this with whoever you have a crush on?” you asked as you pointed towards the biggest drumstick that chifuyu had saved for the last, as always. 

he nodded impatiently, grabbing the very same drumstick and ready to devour it but only to come to a halt when the two of you locked eyes. “want some?” he offered, waving the fried chicken in front of you. “wh-what?” your words fumbled, taken aback by chifuyu’s sudden offer right after the whole sharing of the biggest chicken drumlet explanation he had just made. “you kept staring at it. do you want it?” he asked, with innocence laced in his voice, oblivious to the shade of red slowly making an appearance on your cheeks. you huffed, “am not!”. chifuyu only lets out a snort, “yeah sure,” he chuckles boyishly, leaning down to rest on your shoulders, causing your body to stiffen upon the sudden contact. that afternoon, for almost an entire hour you were forced to sit as straight as you could, afraid that something was going to erupt in your tummy again as you could feel the bubbling sensation that threatened to explode. 

you were thirteen when you finally realised that you, y/n l/n, wants to share the biggest drumstick with chifuyu matsuno. 

it was christmas eve and chifuyu had invited you over to his place for a dinner, claiming that his mother had threatened to throw his precious romance mangas away if he didn't invite you. 

you arrived at the matsuno’s household ten minutes earlier than stated with a tray of roasted potatoes held in your hands and beads of sweat running down your forehead despite the freezing cold temperature outside. for the eight years of friendship you had with chifuyu, you’ve never felt this nervous seeing him and his family. it’s the cold, you naively thought, when the door swung opened, revealing your best friend dressed in a maroon striped sweater with suspenders. his eyes widened, not expecting to really see you when he was just opening to check in an attempt to ease his mother’s sixth sense. “y/n? why didn’t you knock?” he gasped, gently tugging the tray on your hands into his as he looked at you in surprise. “well, i was gonna but you opened the door before i could!” you scoffed a white lie, wanting nothing but to cover up the fact that you had been standing outside because you couldn’t get your heart to calm down. 

“chifuyu why don’t you give y/n the gift you got for her now?” mrs matsuno chimed, elegance evident in her posture and movement when she lightly dabbed a napkin across her lips which made you wonder how is it possible that she's the mother of chifuyu when chifuyu shared not a single bit of her grace when it comes to eating. chifuyu pauses briefly, “give me a sec,” he nods before stuffing the roasted potato that was previously halfway into his mouth and standing up to jog over to his room. “he cleaned the house for two months for it.” mr matsuno chuckled as chifuyu jogs out again, this time with a paper bag held in his hand. 

“you better wear it everyday.” he sent you a playful wink, handing you the brown paper bag. you carefully unwrapped the ribbon that bounded the paper bag and pulling out an overly oversized hoodie enough to fit you through a lifetime. you noticed that it was same hoodie that chifuyu often wears except that yours was in the shade of emerald green, the colour that chifuyu had taken the effort to remember that you had once claimed as your colour when the two of you had a heated discussion on what colour represents yourselves. 

“wow! now we have a friendship hoodie!” you beamed in excitement, pulling the oversized hoodie over your sweater. “how do i look?” you asked, posing a few turns at chifuyu as he took a good look at you. “pretty.” he held a thumb up before stuffing another spoonful of pasta down. 

your lowered your gaze upon hearing the sudden compliment your best friend gave, opting to look at the last piece of roasted chicken that mrs matsuno had offered you earlier just now before chifuyu could lay his hands on it. your lips pursed, not entirely confident to do it but eventually picking up the piece of meat and placing it on chifuyu’s already dirtied plate from all the sauces he had mixed with his food. “thank you,” you mumbled, looking anywhere else but chifuyu’s burning gaze on you. 

the butterflies were taking flight soon and you on the other hand had no idea how to contain it. 

you were sixteen when chifuyu first broke your heart on the first day of the spring season, openly declaring in front of you and takemichi that he’ll be confessing to the pretty girl sitting in front of him during lunch time. 

her name is haru.

“no way! you’re kidding!” takemichi gaped, leaning in closer to chifuyu as the close proximity between the two of them wasn’t enough for him to hear chifuyu clearly. chifuyu crossed his arms, confidence evident in his posture, “of course not! i’ve already decided, there’s no going back!” 

“be sure not to scare her away!” you stuck your tongue out to which chifuyu rolled his eyes in response. “eh? you’re just jealous that no one’s confessing to you!”, wiggling his head in a playful manner as he brought an ‘L’ sign up to his forehead to further anguish you. you raised a middle finger, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation for you weren’t sure if you were able to contain the effect of your heart dropping six feet down. 

you knew chifuyu succeeded when he came running to you after school with the brightest smile you adored, a faint tint of blush coated on his cheeks. “guess i’m gonna see you lesser huh lover boy?” you chuckled softly, shoving your textbooks into your canvas bag as he swung himself onto your desk with a smug grin. “you’d wish huh don’t you? but no, you’ll still see me as often when i’m off from boyfriend duties,” he sang happily. perhaps maybe because it was chifuyu’s own words, you believed wholeheartedly that you were okay with being just his best friend and being supportive of his relationship. so you watched chifuyu’s love for haru bloomed into something more than just the typical puppy love you often watch on romcoms. 

in just a blink of an eye, two years had passed and the next thing you knew you were spending your birthday without your best friend for the second time in a row. “this sucks,” you grumbled, throwing your phone aside when the time struck midnight, announcing a new day had just arrived. chifuyu’s words were just empty affirmations when you realised that you barely ever saw your best friend. you weren't sure if the two of you were even best friends anymore. it felt more like he’s just a friend that you talk to occasionally now. you see, chifuyu is a loyal friend and that’s a widely known fact and that’s what made it even more heartbreaking for you because chifuyu always does just enough to keep your friendship alive and you had no reason to hate him for that. 

you rubbed your temples tiredly, wanting nothing more than to run your aching head into the wall when a packet of your favourite watermelon mints was thrown onto your desk. “rough night?”atsumu, your beloved table-mate asked smugly. “you don’t say,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at the obvious as you impatiently tore the packet open. “he didn’t wish ya happy birthday did he?” the freshly bleached haired boy questioned. atsumu got his answer when you didn't sat in silence, opting to look out the window to distract yourself from the threatening tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. and god do love to test you when the scene of chifuyu leaning in to kiss haru on the lips ever so gently unfolds at your sight. oh how you wished that it was you who he’s kissing right now. 

chifuyu always does just enough to keep your friendship alive. 

it was already late into the night when you heard a knock outside your balcony. your breath hitched when you saw that it was chifuyu who had disturbed your little movie marathon alone after the events that had happened lately. “hey,” he breathed, a soft smile wearing on his lips to which you returned it with an awkward one, inviting him into your messy room. “oh we’re in our friendship hoodie!” he chuckles nervously. your eyes travelled on him, realising that indeed he’s wearing the same hoodie that you were currently wearing right now. “it’s late chi, what’s going on?” you sighed, tone coming off harsher than you intended to. chifuyu nods slowly, face soon replaced with an apologetic look. “i’m sorry for missing your birthday, i feel horrible really,” he begun. “ i know i haven’t been around lately, so i want to make it up to you.” 

your brows furrowed at chifuyu’s apology, you knew he was being so sincere so why did you feel even much more upset hearing it? “that’s it? you could’ve just done this in school tomorrow chifuyu.”you sighed, trying your hardest to mask the pettiness within you with a tired voice. “ i know i know, but i couldn’t sleep knowing that i left my best friend alone on her 18th birthday.” he looked at you hesitantly as you quietly pulled your duvet over your lap. “how about let’s go hiking and watch the sunrise this weekend? just the two of us. i know you’ve been wanting to do that.” 

you wished you weren’t in love with chifuyu so that you wouldn’t give in so easily. you wished you were petty enough to make a scene and just be angry at him but you couldn't so here you are right now, hiking up the trail with your hand in chifuyu’s as you helped him up the slope. “your stamina really sucks,” you retorted to which chifuyu huffed in response. “it’s not that my stamina sucks, it’s that this trail is literally ninety-eight percent high slopes,” he pouts. 

“well you could've chose not to show up.” 

“no! i want to do this with you. what are you talking about?” 

you only smiled at his little defence. “whatever,” you mumbled as you quickly dropped your grip on his and walking ahead of him in an attempt to hide your blush. “hey! wait for me!” 

it was near autumn when one day chifuyu appeared in the wee hours of the night with tears streaming down his cheeks when he fell into your arms and hugged you tightly. you found out that haru was moving away to the states with her family and had broken up with chifuyu, refusing to try out long distance relationship. 

so like any other best friend, you let chifuyu cry into your shoulders as you sat in silence that night, heart breaking at the torn state chifuyu was in. he truly loved her. 

you were twenty when chifuyu held your hands and asked you to be his. 

“chifuyu matsuno! where the hell are my batteries?” your voice echoed through your shared apartment, causing poor chifuyu to jump and drop the eggs he was previously holding in his hands on to the floor. it’s been almost two years since haru and chifuyu had broken up and you had spent a great deal of time trying to mend his broken heart though you knew that it would never be fully healed. she was his first love after all. 

the two of you had moved in to a small apartment close to your university as planned since young, officially becoming roommates. “fuck!my eggs!” chifuyu cried out loud as he frantically lets go of the spatula in his hands to grab a kitchen tower and clean up the pool of egg yolk and egg white on the marble floor. you groaned in annoyance when chifuyu doesn’t answer your question, slamming the tools drawer shut and making your way towards the kitchen. 

“i swear chi-” you paused when you saw chifuyu kneeling on the floor with his pink kitten design apron tied against his body, a pout clearly evident on his lips. “what ever happened?” your head tilted slightly, annoyance slowly decimating. “you screamed like a mad woman. that’s what happened.” he retorted. you rolled your eyes, grabbing another kitchen towel and joining chifuyu on the ground. “well if you didn’t misplace my batteries, i wouldn't be screaming.” 

“if you looked close enough, it’s literally on your study desk.” 

“it’s not!” 

“it is!” 

“it’s not!” you huffed, getting up and stomping over to your room to prove a point but your eyes widened, horrified by the pure sight of your batteries accompanies by a fresh pack with a sticky note attached on top of it. ‘you’re welcome <3′, it wrote. you slowly walked out of your room with your head hung low, doing the walk of shame. “say it,” chifuyu taunts as he skilfully tossed the omelette onto the plate and placing it in front of you. you scrunched your nose, lips pursing and taking a deep breath. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly, fingers fumbling at the ends of your shirt. “ah-ah i can't hear you,” you hear him sing, a little too happy. obvious that he’s enjoying this. you sighed in defeat, clearing your throat loud enough. “i’m sorry,” you said it loudly this time. 

chifuyu lets out a laugh in satisfaction, throwing his head back while you on the other hand could only pout at his triumph. but that didn’t mean that your heart didn't swell up at the expression of happiness he has on his face right now. digging in at the breakfast that chifuyu had made for you which had now became a routine, you couldn't help but to feel small under chifuyu’s intense stare on you. “are you not gonna eat?” you raised your brow, eyeing the untouched omelette on his plate. chifuyu rests his chin on his palm, looking at you with a look of as if he had something to tell you. 

“i will.” he hummed before reaching out to grab your hands. your body stiffened, dumfounded at what’s currently happening. “you know, for the last two years, life was a little less painful thanks to you.” chifuyu confessed earnestly, “ i guess what i’m trying to say is that, you’re my end game y/n l/n. i don’t think i would've came this far if it wasn’t for you so i’m going to ask you this once,” he paused, intertwining his fingers in yours as he gazes into your eyes deeply, 

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

your relationship with chifuyu wasn’t a perfect one but the two of you always made it work somehow. which is why here you are sitting against your bed frame with luggages packed by the side wondering what exactly had gone wrong along the way? 

and you realised that you were never meant to be chifuyu’s end game. you were never meant to be his forever. 

“you think that i don’t fucking know that you were always looking at her instagram when you think i’m not around?” you screamed, body shaking from the exhaustion that’s taking a toll on you both physically and emotionally. “i don’t see how it’s wrong wanting to see how my friend is doing?” chifuyu snaps. 

you scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. “yeah. as if you don’t still say her name in your sleep. as if you don’t fucking mess up our favourite food, as if you didn’t tell takemichi that you wished i was haru!” this was the last straw for you. you were too exhausted to try anymore. haru was irreplaceable and you were just a temporary band aid for chifuyu. 

it was as if you had hit jack pot when your lover went silent. “i’ve loved you for so long chifuyu. but loving you hurts too much. i’m so tired of this.” you finally allowed yourself to break down, letting yourself go loose on the emotions you’ve suppressed for years as chifuyu could only watch in remorse for tearing you apart till this state. 

you finally understood why the apple tree never bloomed any apples.

you were twenty seven when you decided to leave chifuyu matsuno. fifteen years of friendship and seven years of being each other’s significant other. you finally walked away, planting one last final kiss on chifuyu’s lips and shutting the door on your ex-lover’s sleeping figure. 

[sturchling]

Here’s a prompt. Marinette is kicked off of everything. Class Representative. Her classes responsibilities. Yup Lila gets all the work. Marinette moves to another class with Alya (found out by using google with advice from Marinette. Said a lot of sorrys) Class sees Marinette and Alya being at peace in the field. Lila tries to make Marinette mad but she responds with Here comes a thought. She gets exposed. Le perfection

Marinette’s life had changed drastically in the last few months. Since Lila arrived, she had made good on her threat and most of the class had turned against her. And while Adrien knew the truth, he did nothing to stop the relentless harassment from Lila and the class. The only person who still stood by her was Alya. Marinette had told Alya that she should fact check what Lila had told her, just to be safe and have her sources posted for anything on the Ladyblog. Alya took Marinette’s advice and quickly realized that Lila was nothing but a liar. Alya had tried to shield Marinette from Lila’s lies, but for the most part it hadn’t worked. 

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

Marinette had been removed from her position as class rep and stripped of all her responsibilities. The class didn’t want ‘another bully’ in that position. They quickly gave Lila the job. Lila was ecstatic, thinking that she could just work off of Marinette’s plans, until she could come up with some reason to give the job to someone else. Marinette and Alya withdrew from the class, keeping to themselves. It wasn’t long before they decided to transfer to Mrs. Mendeleiev’s class, finally leaving behind Mrs. Bustier’s class which had descended into chaos. 

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

Lila hadn’t expected how hard it would be to fill in as class rep. Marinette’s had some basic plans, but they weren’t as thorough as Lila expected. And Marinette hadn’t actually made any arrangements, so it was all up to Lila. And as much as Lila liked to brag of her connections, she of course did not have the same connections as Marinette. Fundraisers that Lila organized never met their goals, due to mishaps and miscommunication. All of her promises of amazing field trips and class events fell through. Nothing was going right for Mrs. Bustier’s class. Especially once Marinette and Alya had left the class, they were the last safety net keeping the class afloat through Lila’s reign as class rep. 

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

Marinette and Alya were much happier in Mrs. Mendeleiev’s class. She may be a stern teacher, but was still an excellent teacher who cared for her students. They moved on from everything that had happened in Mrs. Bustier’s class. Now they were more relaxed and happy then they had been in a long time, making friends with their new classmates. 

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

One day, after things had gone wrong at the latest fundraiser, Mrs. Bustier’s class was feeling very down. Lila was getting nervous. She could tell the class was getting tired of the failed trips and fundraisers and would soon start looking into Lila’s stories if she could figure something out. As they were leaving the school grounds, they saw Marinette and Alya sitting in a field in the nearby park, eating lunch. It irritated them, seeing those two happy while everything around the class was falling apart. 

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

The class approached the pair as they were eating. Lila lead the group, storming up to Alya and Marinette. She was sure that she could make Marinette angry and miserable again. Would it solve any of her problems? No. Would it make her happy? Yes. So she just kept making snide comments about Marinette. How she was nothing but a bully and a myriad of other cruel comments. But to Lila’s confusion, nothing she said seemed to bother Marinette. So, Lila pulled her final card, the one comment that she was sure would bother Marinette, forgetting that the class was there and listening. “I succeeded in what I set out to do Marinette. The class is mine now. Sure, Alya stayed with you, but the rest of them ditched you for my pretty words. Bet that hurts you. They never cared about you, only what you could do for them.” 

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

The class was somewhat shocked by what Lila had said. Sure, on some level they had known she was a liar for a while now, but to hear her openly admit it was still shocking. The class was equally irritated with Marinette, she had left them alone with Lila. Marinette obviously knew that Lila was a liar and would ruin things for the class, so why didn’t she stay in Mrs. Bustier’s class to help. The class all started yelling at Marinette, asking her how she could abandon them. Marinette was fed up, and jumped to her feet. “Here’s a thought. Maybe if you had actually listened to me, your supposed friend, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe if you had listened to me, you wouldn’t have been tricked by a liar. Maybe if you had listened to me, we would still be friends. I’m not even mad at Lila anymore. For all that she hurt me, she showed me who my true friend is. But, I sure am disappointed with you all. Now if you will excuse us, Alya and I are going to find a new place to eat.” Alya and Marinette gathered their stuff and left the class standing in the park alone, gaping after their lost friends.

[stressy-enby]

Hello! So here's my request:

The 1-A girls including reader are having a girls night in one of their dorms playing Minecraft (teaching Momo how to play for the first time), giving out study tips, eating snacks and watching movies, etc... When their in a topic about their crushes and reader shyly tells them it is Tenya Iida... While the girls are shocked and ask a lot of questions why iida much to reader whos not really liking the questions, the girls decided to help reader out by setting both iida and reader on a date by grabbing readers phone and texting iida, much to readers protest and what the girls don't know is that the boys are having a boy night at the common room too and doing the exact same thing, helping iida out to finally ask reader on a date.

so yeah, haha that's all and you can add your own ideas there and can this be a oneshot? I also want to see the perspective of iida if that't possible? I hope this is okay? thank you!! ☺

Took a few liberties, included some personal touches, I’m really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too!

Risks

Masterlist

Weekend nights in Heights Alliance were arguably the best. 

Mr. Aizawa was more flexible about curfew on Friday and Saturday nights, so the class took those nights as opportunities to have slumber parties and late night get-togethers. 

This was one such night. You, Ochaco, Tsu, Momo, Toru and Kyoka had gone to Mina’s dorm room with snacks and games in hand. Your hostess had offered up her wide selection of video games and her Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ accounts. Toru had even come through with an impressive assortment of face masks, nail polish, and hair accessories. Needless to say, everyone was more than set for a night of careless fun.

“Wait, how do I craft something?” Mom held her controller out to Kyoka, brows pinched together.

“This button, here,” she took the controller, demonstrating by crafting an axe.

Upon realization that Momo had next to no knowledge of Minecraft, the party had abandoned its Super Smash Bros. tournament in favor of showing her the ropes. You’d vowed to help her make a simple house by the end of the night.

“Pro tip: make sure you collect all the same type of wood.” You suggested, eyes focused on the white stripes you were attempting to paint onto Tsuyu’s light green nails with some success. 

“Yeah, unless it’s on purpose, like if you use a different wood for the roof or floor, it’s just gonna look like you hobbled it together in less than a minute.” Mina agreed, before promptly shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Ochaco gasped playfully, swiping the bowl away. “Don’t eat all of it!”

“I’ll eat whatever I damn well please!” Mina retorted, making a grab for the snack as Ochaco floated it over to Toru.

“Okay guys, I can’t take it anymore.” The invisible girl grabbed the bowl out of the air. “We’re all together, hanging out with zero stress for the first time in months! Does anyone have anything juicy to share? Someone’s gotta have something!”

Kyoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t come to gossip.”

“This class is a pretty tight-knit group, ribbit. Nothing really happens that we don’t all know about.” Tsu pointed out.

“Okay then. Crushes.” Mina prompted.

“What about them?” Momo asked.

“Who’s got ‘em?”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed how a few pairs of eyes flicked to Ochaco, who had gonna very red and very quiet. You sighed, musing to yourself about the things you did for friendship.

“I, uh, I kinda like Iida?”

You hated how you phrased it like a question. You hated how you mitigated the confession with the word “kinda”. You hated that silly, totally inadequate word “like”. Your feelings for Iida went beyond a simple crush. You’d had them for him for months now, you were long past the “like” phase. You were head-over-heels in love.

Toru gasped dramatically. “Really? Iida?”

Ochaco smiled at you, gratitude evident in her eyes. “You two would make a sweet couple.”

“What do you like about him?” Mina asked excitedly. “When did you fall for him? Are you gonna confess?”

“Take it easy,” Kyoka chuckled lightly.

You also laughed, albeit uneasily. You were beginning to regret not keeping your mouth shut. “Okay, I’ll take those one at a time. He’s kind and attentive, and he’s very loyal. I think I realized that I liked him a few weeks after the sports fest, and absolutely not.”

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Momo asked, pursing her lips. “I think he’d appreciate the honesty.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wanna make things weird between us or potentially ruin our friendship.” You explained “I don’t wanna jeopardize what we have now by confessing.”

“Plus, Iida doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s want to date someone, ribbit.” Tsu put in, examining her newly painted nails. “He’s very serious. He’d probably see it as a distraction, these are really pretty, (Y/N), thank you.”

You smiled weakly at your frog-like friend as Toru threw a piece of popcorn at her head. “Tsu!”

“No, she’s right.” You sighed heavily, motioning for the popcorn bowl, intending to drown your sorrows and maybe yourself in it.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Momo patted your back sympathetically as she passed the bowl down. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it is.”

You hummed in agreement as you shoveled the snack into your mouth. “Whatever. It sucks, bur I’ll get over it.”

“Like hell you will!” Mina snapped “Ochaco: our romantically challenged friend’s phone, if you please?”

Ochaco dutifully and bemusedly took your phone from Mina’s bedside table and handed it over to her.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, suddenly on high alert.

You were ignored. Mina instead took your hand, and placed your thumb over the home button on your phone, unlocking it.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Kyoka asked.

“Texting Iida.”

It took you a few seconds to process her words and what they meant. Once you had, though, you made a sudden grab for the phone. “Oh no you’re not!”

“Chillax, I’m not gonna send him anything embarrassing.” Mina swatted your hand away as she scooted safely out of your reach. “I’m just gonna suggest that you two go out sometime and heavily imply that it’ll be a date.”

“Now hold on,” Momo cut in, setting down her controller. “We shouldn’t be interfering. This is between (Y/N) and Iida.”

“Yeah, if (Y/N) wants to ask him out, they’ll do it themselves, ribbit.” Tsu chimed in.

Mina sighed, slumping. “I know you’re both right, but I can’t just let them wallow! Iida really likes you, (Y/N)!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised both eyebrows.

“Yeah! He’s a lot softer with you then with anyone else!”

“He does tend to let you get away with things,” Kyoka admitted. “Remember the other day when you were sitting on your desk? The guy didn’t even bat an eye.”

“He also seems like he talks to you more than he does the rest of us!” Toru pointed out.

“Plus he worries about you more than the rest of us!” Ochaco added on.

“He looks more relaxed around you.” Tsuyu threw in.

“Sometimes when we have class representative meetings, he’ll offhandedly mention you.” Momo reported thoughtfully. “He’ll tell me about something you said or did that he found funny or endearing. It’s actually pretty adorable the way he talks about you. It’s like his whole face lights up.”

You were quiet for a very long moment. It was too good to be true. You liked playing it safe. You kept your cards close to your chest until you were absolutely sure you had the wining hand. And if you’d learnt anything in your hero education, it was that sometimes you needed to take a risk.

“Can I have my phone, please?”

Mina tossed it to you. Without another word, you navigated to your messages, and typed something out quickly. Before you could reconsider, you took a risk.

You hit send.

. . . 

This isn’t actually all that bad.

When Kirishima and Kaminari had suggested a “boys’ night”, Tenya had been apprehensive at best. He was all for class bonding activities, but what was the point if it was only a fraction of their group?

“(L/N) and the girls are having a sleepover, so we may as well something ourselves.” Sero had pointed out.

Despite his skepticism, Tenya found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. After admitting he’d never seen a Marvel movie, Midoriya had immediately logged the common room TV into his Disney+ account and began the first ever 1-A Marvel movie marathon.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to watch Age of Ultron?” Ojiro groaned “That one sucks.”

“Yeah, but at some point I’m going to make Iida watch Wandavision.” Midoriya replied “Ultron is important to understanding it, sucky as it may be.”

“That’s not gonna be for a while if we’re watching every single Marvel movie, though.” Sato chuckled. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need more than one night for this shit,” Kaminari chortled “Wandavision not withstanding.”

Tenya smiled, not quite following but listening all the same. He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(L/N): Random question. Want to go out and get dinner tomorrow, just the two of us?

It was indeed a random question. He had no qualms about spending time with (L/N) though. Even if it was just the two us them. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Tenya quickly shook the thought away though, feeling he’s cheeks flare.

Me: That would be great! Do  you have a time and place in mind?

(L/N): Would 6 be ok? As for the place… would you be up for a surprise?

Tenya hesitated. Usually he’s say no. He liked everything to be perfectly planed to a T. But something about (L/N) made him want to be spontaneous. They made him want to take risks. So he decided to do precisely that. He threw caution into the wind as he sent his response.

Me: 6 is more than ok, and I’m always up for a surprise if it’s with you.

Tenya cringed immediately after hitting send. The instant regret was crushing and depressing. He wished he could be honest about his feelings, about (L/N) without overthinking every move he made.

Oh well. What’s done is done. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, praying you wouldn’t respond. However, his plea went ignored a minute later when he felt his phone vibrate yet again.

Biting back a groan, Tenya opened his texts, inwardly bracing himself.

(L/N): Awesome! I’ll meet you at 6 in the common room tomorrow, then. Can’t wait! ❤️

He gaped. That tiny red emoji wormed not his brain and burned itself behind his eyes until that was all he could see. He barely even registered the rest of the message.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Iida?” Kaminari, never one to understand personal space, leaned over to glance at the class rep’s phone phone before he could angle it away. “You sly little- IIDA HAS A DATE!”

“No I- that’s not- Kaminari!” Tenya sputtered incoherently, arms flailing. “That was entirely inappropriate. You shouldn’t look at other people’s devices without their permission. It’s rude, demeaning, and an invasion of privacy!”

“Forget that, what’s this about a date?” Sero leaned in on Kaminari’s other side.

“Iida and (L/N) were texting,” Kaminari announced “They asked him out to dinner, he said yes, and they send a heart emoji.”

“What color?” Aoyama demanded, squinting.

“Red.”

“Oh my,” Aoyama leaned back in his seat, a coy smirk playing across his lips.

Sero chuckled, leaning across Kaminari’s lap to pat Tenya on the arm. “You lucky bastard.”

The blue haired boy brushed his hand away, bristling. “Not that my personal activities are any of your concern, but it’s not a date. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t think many people go out one-on-one for dinner if it’s platonic.” Midoriya pointed out. 

“Yeah, plus, that emoji says a lot.” Kirishima added “(L/N) clearly means this to be a date. If you don’t feel the same way about them, you need to tell them.”

“You don’t want to go on a date with (L/N)?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow “I would’ve thought you’d be happy for an opportunity like that.”

“See! Even Todoroki can see you’ve got it bad for them!” Sato exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the confused heterochromic boy.

Tenya ignored his overly-excited classmates. He flipped back through his conversation with (L/N), staring at every text until he’d inadvertently memorized them all.

Me: Is this a date?

. . .

“So much for subtly, I guess.” Kyoka remarked.

“Subtly gets you nowhere with Iida!” Ochaco insisted “You have to be upfront with him!”

“But I sent him a heart,” You groaned for the fourth time.

“Well, there’s no sense in bemoaning it now.” Momo reasoned.

“It was a calculated risk.” Toru admitted, an undercut of worry in her voice.

“A risk, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly “I seem to be taking a lot of those tonight.”

Ding!

Seven pairs of eyes darted to your overturned phone at the same moment. No one moved an inch.

“Well,” Tsu nudged you “are you going to look at it?”

You gulped, shakily taking the device. The girl’s gathered around you. As you opened your text messages.

Iida: Is this a date?

“No backing down now!” Ochaco squealed, gripping your shoulders tightly and shaking you.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Mina bounced on her knees like it was a sporting event.

You took a deep breath, then texted back.

. . .

(L/N): That was the idea, lol. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, tho

Tenya pursed his lips, showing the response to Midoriya.

“C’mon, Iida.” His friend chuckled lightly ���Just tell them the truth.”

The truth. He did want it to be a date, but a simple “I want to go on a date with you” didn’t seem sufficient. It wouldn’t do justice to how he really felt.

Tenya had already taken a risk tonight, so what was one more? But knowing what he now knew about your feelings, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

Me: I’d love nothing more than to go on a date with you, (L/N). Truth be told, I’ve wanted to for a while now, I just haven’t had the courage to ask you myself. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ❤️

[maxwell-grant]

What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

[gumnut-logic]

The Painting

This was started from a challenge I stumbled across what seems like ages ago.

The word was ‘blushing’ and can be found in a prompt list from @creativepromptsforwriting​ - here.

But anyway, have over 3000 words of frustrated Virgil, worried Scott and concerns over the possibility of Virgil/Kayo.

Warnings: Yep, this is the Virgil/Kayo fic I was babbling on about a while back. Not Warm Rain, but completely new.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy was a seasoned emergency responder. Scott had seen him rescue people in front of entire crowds, seen him speak to police, and even the press. Hell, there was the time Scott had been caught up on the other side of the planet and Virgil had rescued the President of the United States, for crying out loud. It was on film, recorded for history and no doubt would end up in their future grandchildren’s school textbooks.

At no point had his brother ever looked fazed at any of the PR tasks required of him.

Sure, he wasn’t as smooth at it as Scott and if he had a choice, he would avoid it and handball it off to his big brother. But that was more a case of Virgil thinking he had better things to do.

He’d refused the award offered by the President for that reason. Saw no need for accolades for just doing his job - Scott had tried to talk him into that one, but no, Virgil just didn’t seem to care.

So there was no warning, no real indicator that this was going to happen.

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, Scott had to admit that perhaps that was a lie.

Virgil had been edgy from the first mention of this project. It was Penny’s fault, of course, but it was Gordon who had egged her on when Virgil said no initially.

Penny had succeeded with John in the past, so why not tackle another Tracy brother? And it wasn’t like Virgil was socially shy like their astronaut. The man had stripped naked and posed for life drawing classes on multiple occasions and as previously noted, had no trouble with the PR tasks required of him.

Virgil was the cool, calm and sensible Tracy brother.

Who was now standing in front of the podium bright red and frozen solid as holocam lights buzzed about him.

The press was a mass of voices they hadn’t really expected on opening night, and had Kayo in a furious mood, her satin green dress spinning as she strode over to possibly throttle one of her security contingent. He must keep an eye on that. 

Virgil had only meant to welcome everyone to the gallery with a short speech, but the questions about his artworks had begun firing the moment he stood up there and apparently displaying his art was not as easy as Scott thought it would be.

He regretted encouraging this exhibition when he had known Virgil hadn’t been confident. But he had thought it was just nerves and his brother had only needed a little push.

He would never have thought Virgil could freeze like that.

Scott stepped up to the podium beside his arty brother. Virgil blinked at him, more fear in his eyes than Scott had seen since the time Scott had fallen into an ice crevasse and his heavy lifting brother had jumped in after him, only barely managing to grab him before certain death.

Apparently, Virgil needed saving this time.

Scott eyed the crowd and in particular the person responsible for the question.

His eyes narrowed in on Kat Kavanaugh. He let out a breath. “Now, now, Kat, when I said you could ask questions, that did not include my brothers’ sex lives.”

Kat smirked up at him. “Fair’s fair, Scott Tracy. He did paint that, after all.” She gestured towards the most popular painting in the gallery. There had been an argument earlier over who could purchase it. An informal auction managed by Penny had sprouted up and the sum it finally went for would fund Tracy Industries’ charity line for some time to come.

Virgil’s eyes had been saucer-wide at that news.

But the painting itself was a mystery. Scott had no idea what it represented other than it was all flesh coloured curves, greens, reds, blues and greys. It obviously meant something to Virgil, but it might as well have been spilt paint to Scott with the minor exception of maybe one eye and a flower. He much preferred the aerial dogfight painting he had nabbed off his brother before he could assign it to the exhibition - Virgil frowned at him and squawked a bunch of art jargon that translated as ‘Virgil hated it’. But Scott liked it and had hung it in his rooms.

Virgil glared at it every time he saw it.

But this one, this Picasso jigsaw puzzle, meant something to Virgil. Yet for some reason he had thrown it into the exhibition anyway.

And now it meant something to a bunch of people? It had prompted so many questions, most inappropriate, and now looking at it Scott could see vaguely where they were coming from, but really?

But Virgil had flushed red and frozen, giving credit to the question of who had broken his heart.

Scott hadn’t noticed anything. Virgil had never brought the topic up.

And this was definitely not the place.

“This is an art exhibition, Ms Kavanaugh. Please keep your question to the subject at hand.”

“I could argue that what is on these walls is exactly the subject at hand, Mr Tracy. Your brother has painted with his heart and now it is up for sale.”

The whole gallery fell completely silent as the centre of Scott’s cardiovascular system fell into his boots.

When he didn’t answer immediately, she took it upon herself to fill the silence. “In fact, one of the biggest questions on everyone’s lips is why only one out of four of the most eligible bachelors on the planet has a romantic interest. These paintings prove he is not alone, but apparently Virgil is not as lucky.”

Scott stared at her. it would have helped if he knew what she was talking about. Virgil hadn’t mentioned anything...

Scott held back the urge to look at his brother and instead bore a hole into Kat Kavanaugh’s head with his glare. “I repeat, my brother’s personal lives are not up for discussion.” Holocams stared at him.

“And what about yours, Mr Tracy? Are you still dating that pilot?”

“You know what? This is an art exhibition to raise money for victims of disaster, for the people International Rescue couldn’t save. How about you focus on that.” She opened her mouth again. “Because if you don’t, I will have you and anyone else inclined to discuss our private business, escorted from the building.” He put every ounce of commander he had into his words.

She stopped talking, but the smirk on her face that replaced her vocalisations set Scott’s blood boiling anyway.

He clamped down on the emotion. “Now, regarding the artworks. All of them are painted by my talented brother Virgil, as you know. He has kindly donated them to raise money for those affected by disaster. So, please reach into your pockets and donate for those who need it most. Thank you.”

He turned away from the podium as the silence dissolved into chatter, mostly likely with nothing to do with artworks at all.

Finally he was able to catch Virgil’s eye and non-verbally direct him to follow.

The acquiescence in Virgil’s expression hurt Scott even more.

He led his artistic brother past a concerned-looking Gordon who was helping Penelope manage the crowd.

Alan was frowning fit to burst a blood vessel, but Gordon grabbed him and pulled him away. 

John knew enough to only catch Scott’s eye with an expression of ‘here if you need me’ as he stood off to one side talking to Brains. The fact both were half-hidden by a promotional banner was no doubt no error on their part.

Both had declared they would attend in support of Virgil. Didn’t mean they had to like it.

Scott pulled Virgil into a backroom, shut the door and turned to face his brother.

Virgil was looking down at his hands.

“I know I’m clueless on the art front, but apparently the crowd out there isn’t. Is there something you haven’t told me?” He drew in a breath in an attempt to calm himself. 

Virgil glanced up at him with such sadness in his eyes, Scott’s widened and he put both hands on his brother’s shoulders. “What is it?”

It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. It appeared to come from somewhere ever so deep as it visibly deflated him. “It was nothing.” And he looked away.

“Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.” He squeezed those hunched shoulders gently. A nudge of his head in the direction of the crowd outside the door. “They don’t think it is ‘nothing’.”

Virgil looked up. “Well, it is nothing. That’s why that painting is out there. Nothing has happened. Nothing is going to happen.”

“But you wanted something to happen?” It was like bobbing for apples, but painful. He had never seen Virgil so unsure of himself. “Can I ask who?”

Virgil opened his mouth, but closed it before he could say anything.

Scott hesitated. “You know you can tell me anything. That I’m here for you.”

Again Virgil opened his mouth, but again something stopped him from saying anything. He only nodded, blinking.

Scott’s heart lurched. What couldn’t Virgil tell him? They shared everything. How could his brother been hurting this much and Scott not know anything about it?

But then did he know?

He scoured his memory for indicators.

Virgil straightened suddenly. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen. That...that ship has sailed.”

Who had Virgil fixated on? He ran through their list of friends, acquaintances and came up blank regarding any extra regard his brother might have shown anyone.

Of course, Virgil was kind to everyone they knew, polite beyond reason sometimes, well known for putting others above himself.

Hell, just last week he had flown Kayo halfway across the planet in Tracy Two while he was supposed to be on vacation and resting. Shadow was out of commission at the time and Kayo needed to be in London with Penelope and Rigby. She had protested, but even Scott knew Virgil had a soft spot for his sister and would do...anything for her. 

He stared at his brother.

No...really?

Scott blinked as his brain pulled up all the most obvious indicators. Virgil always hovered when their sister was in action. Scott knew he hated it. It was one of the reasons Scott reprimanded Kayo for straying beyond IR’s mandate. The family worried about her, but, in particular, Virgil fretted when his...sister...was in danger.

Aw, hell. Looking back, it was now obvious. Damn, how had he missed it?

Again, Virgil cared for everyone, it was in his nature.

Shit.

Scott must have let something of his thoughts into his expression because Virgil looked up at him and his eyes widened. “Scott-“

“It’s Kayo, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I...no, it’s nothing...I-“ Virgil was obviously scrambling to deny everything.

“She’s a good choice.”

Virgil froze, staring at him.

“What are you afraid of?”

Virgil spun out of his grip and turned away. “It doesn’t matter what I think. She’s not interested.”

“How do you know?”

Brown, hurting eyes glared at him. “What? You haven’t noticed Captain Wayne Rigby?”

Scott blinked. The GDF officer was definitely on his radar, but more on a professional level, IR Commander to GDF representative. He frowned as he assessed what he had seen of the man’s conduct towards Kayo, his big brother priorities coming into play.

Sure, he could look at their relationship that way. Kayo didn’t seem to mind spending time with the man, but only as the mission required?

That question mark only emphasised the fact he needed to spend more time with his family where an emergency situation was not involved. He was clearly out of the loop on too many things.

Virgil wandered over to a lounge in the corner and sat down, his suit immediately rumpling as he dropped his head into his hands.

Scott shoved his own failures in this matter to one side and tackled the immediate issue - his upset brother.

“Have you spoken to her?”

The strangled scoff of a laugh was muffled by his brother’s hands.

Scott took that as a ‘no’.

“Why not?”

That at least got Virgil looking at him again. “Oh, sure, It comes up in conversation all the time. ‘Hi, Kayo, great to see you. By the way, I’ve fallen in love with you. Is that okay?’” His brother’s eyebrows crushed together and he looked down, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It could destroy so much.”

“I really think she would love you either way, Virgil.” And he was back to scouring his brain for indications of Kayo returning Virgil’s regard.

“What? You don’t find it weird that I’m in love with my sister? It’s a breach of trust.”

“Virgil, she grew up with us. She is a beautiful, smart woman. No one could be faulted for finding her attractive. Hell, I will admit that I can see why you would be interested.”

That had Virgil staring at him again.

Scott held up his hands. “Hey, I’m happy with pilot lady.”

That stare boggled a bit. “‘Pilot lady?’ Don’t you even know her name?”

“Thank you for giving me zero credit. Of course I know her name. She just likes me calling her ‘pilot lady’.” Scott grinned strategically.

“Oh god, TMI. Ugh.”

Scott chuckled as his brother groaned. Mostly because he was happy to have achieved his target of lightening Virgil’s mood at least a little.

“You should talk to her.”

“Why? She’s obviously gone on Rigby.” The name was said with as close to a snarl as Scott had ever heard his brother make outside of a rescue. “You want me to ruin what relationship we already have trying to pursue something she doesn’t want?”

“How do you know that?” He stepped closer to his brother. “You haven’t given her a chance.”

“She’s known me for years.”

“I’ve known you since you were born and I didn’t know you had a thing for her. How the hell do you expect her to know?”

Virgil leapt off the couch. “I don’t want her to know!”

“Why not?”

“Because...”

“Because you could get hurt? I never figured you were one for backing away because of that. I’ve seen you risk death to save lives, including mine. Why deny yourself the chance for happiness? Her the chance?”

“Because I love her too much to ruin it!” Scott’s eyes widened as Virgil literally exploded in front of him. “How could our relationship recover from that? How could she bear to look at me if she didn’t...care for me the same way in return? How could I? No, she likes Rigby. She will be happy with him. That’s it. The boat has sailed. And I wish I had burnt that damned painting.”

Scott swallowed. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Virgil’s derisive scoff said everything. “I’ve got to get back out there before they start thinking I’m ready to kill myself due to unrequited love.” He strode towards the door.

“Virgil-“

His brother held up a hand. “I’m fine. I’ll handle it. Just let me get through the night so I can go home.” And with that, he threw open the door and stormed out into the noise.

Damn. Scott thumbed his collar. “Gordon?”

“Yes, oh great leader?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Run interference for Virgil, please.”

“FAB.”

Gordon and Penelope would do what was necessary to get the press off Virgil’s back. Scott sighed as he strode towards the door Virgil had almost slammed behind him and threw himself out into the crowd after his brother.

-o-o-o-

Cartwheels across the gallery floor hadn’t quite been what Scott had in mind, but if he was honest with himself, it worked. Gordon already had a reputation of being the ‘fun’ Tracy and the press ate it up.

The fact Gordon could do a backflip midair and land on his feet wasn’t really that surprising to Scott, but the media loved it. The reports switched from lovelorn Virgil to crazy Gordon and that was pretty much that.

Penelope was ever so tolerant.

Scott didn’t let Virgil out of his sight the rest of the night. His artistic brother put up a great front and only the fact Scott was his big brother allowed him to see that touch of hesitancy in his handshakes and the fakery of his smiles.

What Scott did do was surreptitiously get a good look at the painting responsible for this mess.

It was a Picasso-esque mishmash of flesh, colour and bone. On one hand it could be considered creepy, but there was something about that one single green eye staring out from its midst that said something. Something painful.

The white daisy in the bottom left corner was a familiar motif in Virgil’s paintings. Mom’s favourite flower often turned up when his brother dove deep into his art. But that eye...

Realisation set in like a lightning strike. It was Kayo’s eye. The only part of the painting recognisable, if only for its colour and intensity. Like Kat had said, all the pieces fell into place once that eye belonged to someone. The painting screamed desolation and loneliness.

Aw, hell.

Virgil was on the far side of the room glaring at Gordon, most likely for the acrobatics. The media were still babbling beyond the security Kayo had deployed. Scott had no doubt Virgil knew exactly what Gordon was doing, but that wouldn’t stop the lecture.

Scott owed Gordon for this one.

“Permission to expel the media?”

Scott jumped. Kayo had appeared out of nowhere.

Her smile was an amused one.

He glared at her momentarily before letting his shoulders drop. “I wish.”

“How is Virgil?”

His gaze flickered to her, abruptly realising his brother’s secret was now his to conceal as well. “Getting there. You know how sensitive he is about his art.” That’s it, cover it up with artistic sensibility.

She arched an eyebrow. “I was surprised he consented to the exhibition.”

“Me, too. But Penelope pulled out the charity big guns and you know how Virgil just wants to help people...”

Kayo smiled. “Genetic trait.”

His grunt was non-committal.

“Well, it certainly has been a successful exercise. I think just about everything has been sold, even beyond the star of the exhibition.” She gestured at the painting responsible for so much.

Scott swallowed. “Yeah, Penelope will be happy.”

“What about Virgil?”

“Yeah, he’ll be happy, too. He’s helping a lot a of people.” Scott mentally considered whether whisky on the balcony and some one-on-one commiseration time might help his brother relax.

“Oh, you should know that while you were talking to Virgil earlier, I had to remove Kat Kavanaugh from the building.”

Scott blinked, suddenly realising the absence of the woman. It was a sign of his distraction that he hadn’t realised she was missing. “Why?”

Kayo’s lips twisted. “Well, aside from harassing Virgil,” she said it with gritted teeth and obviously hidden expletives, “I caught her eavesdropping on your conversation, outside the door.”

He straightened in alarm.

“Don’t worry, I nabbed her before she could discover anything...important.”

Scott stared at her.

“She and I had some...polite words, and I doubt we will be seeing her again.”

“Kayo-“

Green flickered up at him. “Just doing my job, Scott.” She lent in a little closer. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I...”

But Kayo smiled. “So can I expel the rest of them? I think they’ve had a fair enough go, don’t you?”

Another blink and he nodded.

Her hand brushed his arm and squeezed ever so gently. “Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

Didn’t feel that way. Across the room Virgil was gesticulating wildly at their fish brother, very adamant about something.

“Kayo?” She looked up at him. “Take it easy.”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “FAB.”

She walked into the crowd, green dress sparkling in the lights, as she spoke into her comms and gestured to her team. He was left wondering what the hell had happened, what she knew and what she was going to do.

But then the feeling was familiar around his sister, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Gordon stopped their engineer brother’s tirade by grabbing him into a hug mid-rant.

A perfect tactic to derail Virgil that had worked many a time before. 

As predicted, their brother couldn’t resist and gruffly returned Gordon’s embrace.

The fish certainly had his ways.

The crowd volume increased as reporters started protesting security herding them out of the building. He watched as his sister worked, her team as smooth and as capable as she.

And then he watched Virgil watching her, too.

Scott grabbed a champagne flute off a nearby server and sculled it. Whisky on the balcony was looking more attractive by the moment. 

He needed one.

-o-o-o-

[winterscaptain]

dead man’s hand.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: our 52 pickup ajf episode! i dunno about yall, but i was so excited to get my hands on viper in this universe. he’s ridiculous, and i think he deserves to be absolutely put to shame by aaron “BDE” hotchner. 

a joyful future fic, but requires little context. 

words: 5k warnings: canon-typical misogyny, language, improper comm conduct, emily prentiss: lesbian icon™

summary: your first case back to full duties after your injury at the septarian ranch just had to take you undercover, didn’t it?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You’re happy to be back in your usual plane seat, just to the left of Aaron, with your notes in your lap. With your arm in the sling, you were relegated to the table, in Derek’s usual spot beside Rossi, to discourage you from slouching. It was Hotch who suggested it, of course, but that didn’t help your pride. 

Though your sling is gone and you’re back where you belong, your shoulder still twinges a little from time to time. 

As it happens, a twinge hits you right as Rossi asks, “How does our unsub go from loser of the year to Don Juan?”

While Spencer answers him, Hotch glances over at you. You wave him off. I’m fine, Hotch. 

He sighs and you both tune back in to Spencer. “...Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles and when -” Spencer looks at Hotch, finding something in his face that usually made you laugh, but stops Spencer in his tracks. “Th-That’s about it.” 

You suppress your smile as Hotch refocuses the group. “Something must have happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden, making him change his victimology.” 

“Could the unsub have known Vanessa?” Jordan’s question almost surprises you. She’s still settling in, but you’re learning she doesn’t hesitate to freely share her opinion. 

Hotch hesitates, as if waiting for someone else to answer. You oblige him, leaning around Dave a bit to see her better. “It’s unlikely.” 

Derek picks up your thought. “Yeah, sexual sadists attack anonymously”

“They have to sever a personal connection and see their victims as objects to perpetrate this level of torture.” Spencer softens your quick rebukes with a little closed-mouth smile. 

You spare a glance for Hotch and he raises his eyebrows for a split second before they drop back down. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and you press into him for a second. Be nice. 

He huffs a light breath through his nose as Prentiss and Rossi bounce off each other. I am being nice. 

Then, as though your silent sidebar never existed, he jumps back in. “The victimology is so different, we’ll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps.” He makes assignments, finally rounding out by assigning Derek, you, Jordan, and himself to the victim’s family. 

+++

Todd’s initiative continues to take you by surprise long after you land. She takes command of the situation at the precinct, and there are a couple of times where you can feel Hotch shift his weight. 

He’s uncomfortable. 

When Jordan leaves the room, you turn to the side and he leans in. “If you’re going to pull her, do it quietly. Something tells me she’s adverse to public criticism.” 

He nods, just a little, and you return to your former posture. 

The house is where things get really sticky. 

“Mrs. Holden,” she says, “we can’t begin to fathom the loss you’ve suffered.” 

You nudge Hotch with your shoulder (ouch) and he uncrosses his arms. Loosen up for a minute, would you?

“No, that’s right. You can’t.” Mrs. Holden’s tone is sharp, and you can’t help but feel for her - the stuff Garcia sent over was awful. A daughter, dead, and forums full of people saying you had it coming. Ugh. 

“But, um…” Jordan steps up, and you narrow your eyes a little. 

What is she doing? 

“I lost my older sister in a car crash.” You can feel Derek’s brow furrow as he checks in with Hotch. Aaron has yet to move and, as usual, his face gives nothing away to anyone except you. Something’s wrong. “And it was really hard on our family because she was the responsible one. She was the one that my mother always counted on to watch over us.” 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch’s profile, and you find his mouth a touch tighter, his eyes infinitesimally narrower.

Uh oh. 

We know that look. 

Again, what is she doing? 

“And when she died, my mother wouldn’t let the police in. If she didn’t let them in, then my sister wasn’t really dead.” Jordan leans in closer, as if her next words are a secret. “This man is a monster,” Aaron straightens with an inhale, and you feel yourself wind tighter and tighter as he does. You have no idea what you’re upset about yet, but you’re sure it's something. “...and we can catch him, but we need your daughter’s help.”

The mother turns on Derek in an outburst of pre-emptive anger. He very kindly de-escalates the situation, ever the voice of reason and empathy. Hotch takes another breath as Mrs. Holden turns to invite you further into the house. Jordan checks in with Derek before following her, almost smug. 

Aaron’s brows are drawn when you look at him again. Derek asks the question you’ve been waiting for. “Did you know that about Jordan?”

“No,” he says. “And neither did she. According to her file, she’s an only child.” Hotch walks away immediately, letting his implicit accusation hang in the air between you. 

You share a look with Derek. 

+++

“The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?”

You try to stay a little ahead of them, but Derek has no qualms about openly eavesdropping, turning over his shoulder. 

Her tone is matter-of-fact. “Some of it was online, and some of it was just an educated guess based on birth order.”

Still facing forward, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, as if bracing yourself for impact. 

“A guess.” Hotch’s question is flat and hardly a question at all. You almost cringe. Derek hops up beside you, much less interested in snooping now. 

Shit. You’re in it now, kid. 

‘Kid.’ Gimme a break she’s like...two years younger than you.

Yeah, but on this team, it’s dog years. The divorce alone had to be at least a decade.

“And in the process, you lied.” 

There it is. 

“That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport.” The note of defensiveness in Jordan’s tone pulls a sigh from you, and you can almost anticipate Hotch’s response. If pressed, you could recite it verbatim. 

“I don’t know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don’t make it a habit to lie to get the job done.” They stop walking, but you don’t, pulling Derek by the sleeve of his Henley before he can hesitate. 

“Let’s wait by the car,” you tell him. He gives you an expression that only says yikes. You reply with one of your own. 

As you approach the back door, you hear, “I got you in the door, didn’t I?” from Jordan.

Oh babe. Put the shovel down. This hole you’re digging for yourself is becoming unmanageable, and we’re all going to have to deal with his grumpy ass for the rest of the afternoon if you don’t quit. 

Derek leans against the door of the car, and you follow his lead, leaning against the back bumper. 

“Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team - ”

Ah, so it's the “representing the team with integrity” speech today.

 “ - to the press, the police, and to the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives. If you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears.” You inhale, sharp. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard that tone. “Do I make myself clear?” 

Yikes. 

Jordan, looking significantly chastised, answers, “It won’t happen again.” 

“No, it won’t.” 

Alright, that one pulls a smile from you and you do your best to bite back your laugh. Derek’s in the same boat. You both hope to recover by the time they get back to the car. A fit of giggles will do you absolutely no good at this point. 

“When we get back, I want you to prepare a press release about the unsub. Do not release it.” His phone rings, and he reaches for it, adding “From now on, everything goes through me.”

He passes you without meeting your eye, talking to Rossi over the phone. Jordan approaches you, and asks, “So how bad did I just screw up?”

You take a breath before answering. “Well, Derek would tell you on a normal scale of one to ten, probably about a six.” 

“I have a feeling that’s not the scale we’re using.”

You shake your head and open the door. “On Hotch’s, that was about an eleven.” 

The three of you slide into the car. You take the seat behind Derek, sparing Aaron from having Jordan in his peripheral vision while he’s trying to focus on not crashing the car. 

+++

“Hotch,” Emily says, getting your attention and Aaron’s. You both turn. “Of the self-described pickup artist classes in the area, there’s only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh..” she searches for a word for a second, “space cowboys.” 

A laugh escapes you, but you recover quickly. You glance at Hotch, an apology in your eyes.

Emily’s tone matches your mirth. “Are you ready to meet Viper?”

+++

The four of you lurk at the back of the room, listening to Viper’s sermon while trying not to laugh out loud again. 

“...and women, while they won’t admit it, want to be hunted. They need it.” 

You look up at Hotch. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

He doesn’t look at you, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away. 

You turn your attention back to Viper, who’s assertions are so far gone from reality you can’t even believe people paid for this. He goes on and on about the ideal mate, what women want, etc. etc. etc. 

This guy has never gotten laid in his life. 

Hotch nudges you with his shoulder as if he can hear you thinking, and you drop your eyebrows, setting your mouth in a tight line that could give him a run for his money. 

Emily’s losing it beside you, too. She and Derek have shared more than a few glances, and there’s no hiding the incredulous look on her face. 

“If you are smarter and more interesting, you will be a better predator -”

You keep your face from screwing up in a wince, but only just. Poor choice of words, there. 

“- because this is the jungle, my friends, and your prey wants to be caught.”

Derek doesn’t shift his gaze as he asks, quietly, “Would you listen to that language?”

You lean around Emily, whispering, “He’s training serial killers.” 

“Great,” Emily says. “We’re dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman.” 

Yeah, that about sums it up. 

You both look at Hotch, who’s still watching carefully. “Just one more thing he has in common with our unsub.” 

At the end of the lecture you all stay where you are: four dark and intimidating figures irresistible to someone with an ego as big as Viper’s.

When he inevitably advances on you, Aaron introduces the team present and explains the situation in an even, measured tone. He doesn’t have to change a single thing about his presentation for the Viper to size him up and compensate accordingly. He doesn’t even acknowledge you or Emily in his futile effort to make Aaron feel small, counting on his own peacocking to do the job. 

That was your first mistake.

“So you think this - what did you call him - unsub took my class?”

With one hand in his pocket and another on his belt, Aaron replies. “He copied your ‘the camera adds ten pounds’ routine verbatim.” 

Viper has the audacity to look pleased. “Yeah. That’s a good gag.”

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him,” Emily says. 

You nod. “Any information you can provide would be helpful.”

“No.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and Emily beats you to a response, her tone appalled. “No?”

He’s decidedly smug now. You’ve never seen a face so well-suited for a punch. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.” 

“We can come back with a warrant.” Aaron’s quick, flat rebuttal almost makes you smile. Viper ignores him, shifting his slimy attention to you.

You watch Viper take you in from head to toe, resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze. With a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and ever so slightly put more weight on your right foot, keying you in to Aaron. When Viper meets your gaze again, he looks more than a little annoyed. 

“Be my guest, but keep in mind, the money I make doesn’t just pay for my fabulous lifestyle,” he turns to Emily again, “it also keeps very expensive lawyers on retainer.”

You redirect, hoping to catch him off guard. “What club did you go to last night?”

It doesn’t work. He eyes you up and down again. It’s disgusting. 

“It’s a legitimate question,” Derek says. “You seem to know a lot about our investigation.”

He turns on Derek, and you settle in for the show. “Two things to learn about me. First, I outwit alpha males like you for fun and sometimes profit.” You snort, but he doesn’t spare a glance at you. “How often do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy?”

Aaron huffs a laugh, and it’s so quiet you’re almost sure you made it up. 

“Second,” he continues, turning to Emily again. “Last night, I was at Club Aqua and I have a stack of tax-deductible drink receipts to back up my story.” 

She shrugs, unimpressed. 

Emily Prentiss, you are my hero. 

You really tune in when his gaze finds Aaron, still standing a good two or three inches taller than Viper in far more expensive shoes. “Now, you might not want to believe that my style works.” You can tell Aaron’s trying to keep from smiling, his head tilted down at a condescending angle. “And here, in this harsh light, you have the advantage.” 

He has the advantage in every light. 

Shut up. 

It’s true, isn't it?

Viper steps up to you, uncomfortably close, and you do what you can to keep the grimace off your face. “But meet me on my turf…” He laughs a little and turns to Emily. It’s revolting. “The things I could make you do.”

The things Aaron could do on any turf, any time, any light -

Quit! Focus! 

Aaron steps between you and Viper. You gladly take advantage of the distance, moving just off Aaron’s shoulder. “If you have any questions, give us a call.” 

Viper’s eyes don’t move from Emily as he takes Aaron’s card. She sizes him up for a moment before turning around, still completely unimpressed. 

Down the hallway, she keeps pace with Hotch. “Please tell me we’re not giving up on that guy.” 

“We’re just getting started.” 

You can tell he’s irritated and tense, but there’s an air of smug amusement that colors his countenance. The lawyer has tricks up his sleeve, it seems. 

When you leave the building, you turn on Derek. 

“What the fuck was that?”

To everyone’s surprise, Aaron, putting his sunglasses on, answers. “Compensation.”

You try not to dwell on that implication for too long, barking a laugh with Emily.

+++

“Hey, Hotch.” You turn around, exposing your half-unzipped dress and bare upper back. “Can you zip me up?” He crosses the room and zips your dress, doing his best to avoid savoring the warmth of your skin under his fingers as he links the hook-and-eye closed. “Thanks.” You turn and he’s a little closer than you expected, looking at you with a peculiar, unreadable expression in his eyes. 

There’s silence for a moment and neither one of you moves. No matter how often it occurred, close proximity to Aaron always did weird things to your heart rate. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and return to the locker for a set of loud silver bracelets. 

“You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable with this, right?”

You clasp two of the bracelets around your wrist and turn back toward him. A little laugh leaves you. “I’m fine, Hotch.” You wordlessly hold your last two bracelets out, unable to secure them with your non-dominant hand. With a fond sigh, he crosses over to you and takes your wrist.

“Emily told me you’d both be alright and she’s handled people like this before, but this guy…” He trails off with a bit of sigh. 

“I’ve handled worse than him. Guys like Viper were a dime a dozen in college,” You shrug, watching him deftly handle the tiny clasps in his large hands. “Plus, you’ll be in my ear the whole time.” He reaches past you for your necklace and you turn around so he can put it on. He smells incredible and you can't help but close your eyes for a moment. 

“I have a good feeling we’ll be able to get somewhere tonight.”

You turn around again, smiling up at him. “I agree.” Thinking for just a second, you add, “Hotch, did you consider putting Jordan on this?”

“I did,” he says, his fingers reaching for the bridge of his nose. “Emily suggested it as well. I’m just not confident in her ability to complete surveillance in such a high-risk environment.” 

“Because of her mistake today?” You pass him and close the door to the room, ensuring the exclusion of prying eyes and ears. 

He removes his hand from his face and looks at you, playing at exhaustion. Of course.

You let all your breath out through your nose and you carry on as if you were explaining to a child. “She can’t recover if you don’t give her an opportunity.” You lighten up, adding, “Do you remember how many times I screwed up my first couple of months?” A wry smile crosses your face. 

He huffs and crosses his arms. “That’s different.” 

“Why? Because I was a NAT?” 

“No, you -” He takes a second to collect his thoughts, his brow furrowed. He gestures with a sharp, open hand as he speaks. “You made mistakes, but you never misrepresented yourself. I’m concerned about her conduct in the field.” 

“Send her out with us tonight.” Your appeal is casual, easy. “Emily and I will keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps her nose clean.” All things considered, Jordan isn’t much of an issue. She’s just green and (you’re sure) accustomed to a decidedly less-upright unit chief. 

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Of course. Give her a chance, Hotch. We’ll be fine.” 

He nods, ready to leave the room, but then looks down at your wrist with a small, almost amused, frown. “Is that…?”

“The Dead Man’s Hand? Yeah.” You turn your wrist, revealing a pair of eights and aces - both clubs and spades, with the queen of hearts between them - inlaid in the silver. “I figured it was appropriate, if not entirely tasteless.” 

“Clever.” 

+++

You can tell Jordan’s forgotten about the comm in her ear when she leans over and whispers, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You keep your eyes on the crowd, lips barely moving as you keep a demure smile on your face. A guy without a chance in hell catches your eye and you break him with just a quick softening of your eyes and a wider smile. Luckily, he’s so flustered he doesn’t think to approach you.

She takes a fake sip of her drink. “You and Hotch get along really well, and I haven’t managed to get on his good side once since I’ve been here. How do you do it?”

“I have no idea.” There’s a small crackle in your ear, and you know Aaron tuned into your private channel to hear you better and talk to you alone. For his benefit, you add, “I’m not sure he has a good side, if that helps.” 

You hear a scoff and have to hide your laugh in your drink. 

Jordan shakes her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“He definitely has a good side -” 

“Thank you,” Hotch says into your ear. You cough to hide another laugh. 

“- and you’re on it.” 

You open your mouth to reply, but catch the eye of someone who looks unfortunately familiar. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Hotch’s chuckle in your ear warms you, and you hear a crackle as he switches back to the team channel. “20 on Viper,” he says. “Keep an eye out for our unsub.” 

Emily wilts beside you, and you can’t help but laugh. You pull Jordan a little off to the side so you’re able to hear Viper, but he doesn’t feel closed in. “You always want to give guys like this an out - if they’re backed into a corner and feel trapped, they close off and get defensive.” 

A crackle in your ear. “Is that so?”

Jordan nods and you can’t reply to Hotch with any degree of subtlety, so you settle for rolling your eyes. 

“Well.” You hear Viper from over your shoulder. Jordan cringes, and your brow pulls in a question. “Lucky me.”

She answers, narrating through a squint. “He just put his finger in his mouth and pulled it out a little too slow.” 

“Ugh.” You take a fake sip of your drink. “I hate this guy.” 

“I thought you said you could handle him?” Aaron’s voice in your ear almost makes you jump, and you almost turn around to smack him before realizing he’s not even there. 

Bastard. 

Emily sends some sort of wisecrack flying over Viper’s head. She’s so charming, you can’t blame him for immediately falling head-over-dick for her. 

“...So, affection, sex, emotional committment, it’s all just for fun?”

Against your will, your thoughts wander. You’re still listening, tuned in to his linguistic profile - the pattern, the rhetoric, the cadence, sure - but your heart pulls when you hear Emily list those three things. A sigh leaves you and of course you’re thinking of Aaron. 

You’re such a child. Don’t be an idiot. 

“You okay?” 

Of course he’s asking. 

You turn away from Jordan, looking out on the rest of the club so you can answer. “I’m fine.” 

“Need a break?”

You are feeling a little boxed-in, and as long as he’s offering… “Yeah, actually. That would be great. I just need some air.” You turn back to Jordan. “I’ll be right back - stay with Emily.” 

“But wait,” she says, holding your arm with gentle fingers, “we shouldn’t split up.”

“I just need a minute outside, Jordan, I’ll be alright.” You smile at her, small and warm, and escape her grasp. Slipping out one of the side doors, you prop it with a doorstop and lean against the wall. Your eyes fall closed, and you take a minute to breathe in the cold air. 

You hear your name in your ear, and you yank your earwig out. It's still close enough for you to hear the team if anyone needed you, but Aaron’s voice in your ear at this very moment isn’t helping with the whole “take a minute” thing. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” 

I thought I took that damn thing out - oh. 

Aaron rounds the corner and leans on the wall beside you. “You okay?”

You nod. “Fine. My shoulder’s just bugging me a little.” 

“Any more lies you want to share before I call you on them?” 

“No.” In fairness, your shoulder was bothering you, but it wasn’t the thing bothering you. That thing, in fact, was standing beside you with his kevlar on, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I’m just out of shape, is all.” You tilt your head a little. “And my shoulder really does hurt.” 

He guides you off the wall so you’re standing in front of him, your back to him. “What have you been doing in PT?”

“Muscle work, mostly. Keeping things loose so it heals without limiting my mobility.” You roll your shoulder, ignoring the flood of pain that zings down your fingertips. 

Warm hands find their way to your shoulder over the fabric of your dress. You picked something long-sleeved and high-necked, figuring the angry scarring from your still-healing gunshot wound would adversely affect your objective. You take deep breaths as he works at the muscle, releasing the little knots that built up through the day. He finds a bit of scar tissue, and a little yelp leaves you before you can stop it. 

His hands soften, but don’t stop. “Hang in there. Just a little more and it’ll take some pressure off the nerve.” He trades his thumbs for the tips of his fingers, walking over the knots with a methodical practicality that pulls at your chest.

You nod, knowing he’s right. Lo and behold, a few seconds later, the knot releases, sending a flood of warmth, followed by pins and needles down your arm. You flex and contract your hand in and out of a fist a couple of times, hoping to rid yourself of the sensation. 

“It’ll stop in a second.” He rubs his hands together, warming them up with the friction before passing over the back of your shoulder with a firm, steady pressure, all the way down your arm to your fingers. The heat of his hands really does help - your nerves calm almost immediately, and you can feel your pinkie for the first time in days. 

A little laugh leaves you. “I dunno why I keep going to PT when you’re right here.” You turn and offer him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Feeling better?”

No. 

“Much.” 

He offers you a small smile in return. “Good.” 

+++

You’re changing back into your work clothes with Emily and Jordan, pleased to find them full of laughter. 

“When you asked him if he practices his routine on a sex doll, I almost lost it.” Jordan looks over her shoulder at Emily as she clips her holster back onto her belt. 

“I did lose it, are you kidding?” You laugh. “I can’t believe I missed it!” 

Emily shakes her head, smiling. “You know, as much as I hate what that guy stands for, I still read ‘five ways to get noticed’ in Cosmo magazine.”

“Because it makes sense.” You look at Jordan, waiting for an explanation. She redeemed herself tonight, and you’re actually looking forward to hearing what she has to say. Though she doesn’t explain what she means, she does thank you both for vouching for her. 

“Absolutely.” Emily looks past Jordan, at you, and you nod in agreement. 

“Of course.” 

A knock sounds, and Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “I need you all out here, the unsub’s kidnapped another victim.” 

Shit. 

+++

You’re on Aaron’s six, waiting for the go. He calls the first team into position and holds up his hand. When he drops it, you fall into step, just off his right shoulder. Derek breaches first, tackling the unsub to the floor. 

Aaron kicks down the front door, and you breach from the other side of the house. There’s shouting everywhere, but Aaron’s presence centers you, giving you a mission and a focus. 

Keep him safe. 

He releases you with a wave, and you drop down next to Spencer on the floor. You cut the tape holding Austin’s hands together. She falls into Spencer, still terrified and sobbing. He looks at you and you nod, spotting her as he helps her to her feet. 

Tracking back to Aaron, you shadow Rossi as they finish clearing the rest of the house. You hover by the final door as Dave and Aaron reassure the unsub’s mother that she’ll be taken care of as they clear the room for hidden threats. 

In fact, there’s nothing except a sick woman and the machine keeping her alive.

“It’s a dialysis pump...It was issued ten months ago.” Dave looks back at you, and your lips press into a thin line. 

You look at Aaron. “Our secondary trigger.” 

+++

Jordan climbs the stairs to Aaron’s office, and you attempt to hide your interest as she knocks on the door and steps in. Of course, you can’t hear them, but you watch him call her back after she hands in her report. 

You recognize the look on his face - it's an expression you’re rewarded with when you’ve done something right. In fairness, it doesn't look much different from the one you get when you’ve done something wrong, but you’ve learned to pick up on the subtle differences.

Jordan leaves his office with a little smile. When she passes you, you offer her a, “Well done,” as you stand and climb the stairs yourself. 

With a knock on Aaron’s door, he beckons you in without looking. You stand a respectable distance away from his desk, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s working on. He knows it’s you, and has no issue keeping you waiting.

The composition of his desk has changed in the months since the divorce. Haley no longer smiles at him from the frame by his pen cup. That frame sits on the low shelf by his law volumes, the white veil over Haley’s face unable to mask her joy even from across the room. 

There are more pictures of Jack than before, both old and new. 

Eventually, he looks up, and you hand him your report. A smile plays at your lips, and another dances around the corner of his eyes. 

“That was kind of you, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “You vouched for her work.” 

“Is that all it takes to win your approval, these days? My good word?” Your voice is laden with fond amusement. He rises to it, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he wasn’t smiling. When he answers, his tone is light, almost playful. 

“Yes.”

+++

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[luna-the-moth]

Crimson Rivulets (SFW) Pt.1

Alright, since Lucifer won first place in the poll, I’ll start off with the Avatar of Pride himself! This was supposed to be a hc/scenario, but I suppose this jumped out at me! GN! reader, and SFW. This’ll be a series, so I’ll link each part as they come out! 

Word count: 2.1k words

This is a Vampire!Lucifer AU and (SFW) Modern! CEO Lucifer AU

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Vampire!Lucifer AU (SFW)

A pureblood vampire, scorned by his father, and cast out with his siblings. From a young age, Lucifer had learned to take care of himself, along with his brothers. As the eldest, he felt a strong urgency and need to shield and protect his siblings, at any cost. Even at the expense of his pride.

Before stepping out of his father’s light, Lucifer had been one of the most prestigious vampires; the most sought-after. Fellow purebloods, half-bloods, and turned vampires alike had flung themselves at him, left and right.

In truth, Lucifer had no interest in any of them. Why would he distract himself, when he was supposed to inherit the family business and fortune? As the eldest son of the household, he was expected to be the pinnacle of class, intelligence; the embodiment for everything a pureblood represents.

He was known by many titles and honorifics, having obtained various positions of high status throughout his eternal lifetime. Governor, count, high priest, etc. But the name you know him as now, is Lucifer, CEO of Morningstar Corp.

The same Morningstar Corp., where you were going to apply for. Specifically, the open occupation of a personal assistant. You had been searching for a job close to the city, with decent benefits and stability. Which is quite odd, as Lucifer was known for his short temper, and had a reputation of going through assistants at least once a month.

Along with the fact that he was one of the most influential businessmen, it added an extra reason to be cautious. After all, he could make or break you, and if he didn’t like you? Say goodbye to all future job potential. His influence spread across the country, connections with almost every important figure of power.

The position offered a higher-than-average salary, and benefits of high worth. It was a gamble, but if fate smiled down on you, it may as well be one of the best opportunities of your life. Well, it was, but not in the way you expected.

Adjusting your tie slightly, you entered the doors of the building, a pleasant demeanor sweeping over your features. You had to be poised and professional, after all, this was a multi-billion company, if you weren’t your best, failure was guaranteed.

You had worn a simple outfit, contrasting to the corporation’s high-class, expensive atmosphere. But you were just applying to be an personal assistant after all, behind the scenes; so you wore a professional outfit, that wouldn’t stand out.

Arriving just on time for your interview, you took the elevator to the 27th floor, as the receptionist had instructed. With smooth, light jazz playing in the small space, your mind wandered to the possibility of what would happen if the job was granted to you.

Would Lucifer be a haughty, conceited, arrogant boss to work for?

Snorting, you thought, “Of course he is, he’s Lucifer Morningstar, CEO of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, why wouldn’t he be?”

Ping!

Interrupted by the signal of arrival from the elevator, you took in a deep breath, and stepped out of the elevator, hope in your heart.

The interview had gone fairly smoothly, as you answered the questions in a concise, polite manner. It was surprisingly less nerve wracking, besides the fact that your interviewer looked like he wanted to bite you-

At least, he had seemed like it. With mesmerizing, and hungry forest green eyes, you felt yourself gravitating towards him. Although, you quickly reminded yourself that this was a professional setting, and you were applying for an interview.

Seemingly pleased with your responses, the interviewer bade you goodbye as you left the office, a mysterious smirk gracing his features. Leaving the room, the image of him stayed in your mind for days, the intensity and calculation in his gaze haunting you, luring you in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a few days, you had idly scrolled through other job listings, as you didn’t want to rely on the Morningstar Corp. application. After all, you were just one of many applicants, it’d be foolish to place all your hope into that one position.

After another day or two, you got a callback. They had accepted your application, and Mr. Satan, your interviewer, had wanted you to come back and sign the official papers, along with a tour of the building.

With hope in your heart, and a lightness in your step, you entered the skyscraper of a building once again, an air of confidence about you. Well, a sense of security and assurance would be a more accurate description.

Walking down the clean, polished hallway of the 34th floor, your thoughts wandered. However, they were abruptly stopped when you heard a stern voice ring out, prideful and condescending.

“Yes, and? It’s almost pitiful, how lousy you are with your job. I hired you as an interviewer, yet all of your choices have been fired or left on their own accord.

Honestly, since you are one of the most educated and competent halfbloods, I thought you would at least have some potential. If you can’t even find a decent personal assistant for me, I see no potential for you here at Morningstar Corp.”

In an open conference room, you saw a young man, with blond hair, and seemed to be his mid twenties. With a scowl on his face, narrowed eyes were directed towards the man in front of you.

Ah, it was your interviewer, you had realized. Who else had such enchanting, deep green eyes? Focus, you chastised yourself.

“Oh please, you drive off even the most patient of assistants! Speaking of personal assistants, you can’t just call them ‘degenerate, insolent worms not worth the dirt on your shoes, much less your investment,’ because they brewed your coffee a little too long, sir.

If you weren’t such an entitled, demanding pureblood, I’d-”

Wait- pureblood?

As he was about to fire off an insult, his gaze darted towards you, eyes seemingly gazing into your soul. Your breath hitched, words barely being able to force themselves out of your throat.

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll be back later-”

Hastily turning on your heel, you attempted to leave, but were stopped by a commanding voice behind you. Immediately, you had recognized him. The same voice you had heard over and over, in press conferences, and various ceremonies.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

You turned around, suddenly anxious and on edge. Something about that voice made you shiver in fear, and...delight?

Lucifer was dressed in a dark navy blue suit, with corresponding dress pants, along with a crisp, white dress shirt, hidden under a dark blue not unlike that of the suit. To add on, a black tie was adorned around his neck, with black dress shoes.

Wow Y/n, the first thing you think about when confronted by one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, is about how hot you think his voice is, and that collar- Get yourself together!

Blinking once, your gaze meets that of a blood-red one, almost hypnotic. A deep, bloody red that was similar to that of roses, or perhaps rivulets of blood. Almost like the blood red eyes of a vampire, found in fantasy novels and mythological stories.

Although, maybe he was one, since Satan had mentioned him being a ‘pureblood,’ if I recall correctly. That could mean anything, though.

Nonetheless, you quickly snapped your focus back to the present, as you had realized you had been staring into his eyes for maybe a bit too long. With burning red staining the tips of your ears, you replied with a slight waver in your voice,

“I was just about to leave and reschedule my appointment with Mr. Satan, as it seemed the two of you were busy, Mr. Morningstar.”

Staring at each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever, Lucifer smirked, breaking the hold on your gaze to glance back at Satan. With a dignified air around him, his moniker of “The Peacock” seemed quite fitting.

“Is this the new assistant you were speaking of, Satan?”

Scowling, he nodded curtly.

“Yes, this is Y/n L/n, your newest personal assistant. Out of all of your previous assistants, they’re the most qualified, and seem to align with your standards the most. I have faith in them.”

Taken aback by the blatant praise, you dipped your head in a gesture of thanks and gratitude.

Lucifer observed with a slightly curious gaze, masked behind a cover of apathetic, uninterested layers of emotions. It was rare for Satan to praise anyone, much less a new assistant.

He couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued; after all, he held Satan’s opinion in high regard, arguments aside. If he believed in your capabilities, you had to have at least some merit.

As much as Lucifer would like to deny it, he was a demanding boss, especially since his levels of stress were through the roof. Hell, if he was human, he’d be dead from overworking and lack of rest. Fortunately for the undead immortal, he wasn’t.

“I see, well Y/n, why don’t you finish up the required paperwork with Satan, and he’ll give you a tour afterwards. Your first day of work starts this coming Monday, be here at 7AM, sharp.”

Turning away, you stole a glimpse his face once more before Lucifer left, leaving you and Satan.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in, you turned to Satan, mind clouded with thoughts flurried, flying through your head.

With  charming smile and a certain glint in his eye, Satan gestured to the conference room, with papers and files ready on the table.

“Shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, 6:50 AM

Arriving at the building, you were huffing, as you had rushed over. Your morning had been fairly quiet, but the real issue was with traffic.

There was a car crash on your route to work, and it nearly made you late, added with the fact that parking spots were far and few to find, it was a miracle you had made it on time.

However, the sight that greeted you when you stepped into the polished office was...something, to say the least.

The first thing you noticed was a wave of iron and rust permeating your senses, filling your nostrils and causing light-headedness.

On Lucifer’s desk, sat vials of blood, and the man in question, had his fangs inserted through a vial. seeming to drink the blood through his fangs.

With closed eyes and a contented look on his face, Lucifer seemed to drink the blood like a mere cup of tea, nonchalant.

Letting out a noise of surprise, you clapped a hand over your mouth in shock; your boss was a vampire, just like from the manga you had read....

Lashes fluttering open, Lucifer looks at you with . Removing his fangs from the vial,  he swiped his tongue along his fangs, not letting a drop of blood go to waste.

Setting it down, he placed his head on his propped hand in a bored manner, a contempt expression worn smugly across his face.

“Right on time, L/n. Since today’s your first day on the job, I’ll give you a simple task. Prepare a coffee with 18 shots of espresso, a dash of milk, and a caffeine booster.

Afterwards, you will stop by the clinic on the 13th floor, and collect a vial of Aspherion from the medicinal vault. The identification program should have your information set, and should be able to identify you by the card Satan gave you previously.”

Standing in shock, your eyes were wide with surprise, firstly, because your new boss was a vampire; also, that is an inhuman amount of caffeine, how the fuck has he not died yet- plus, having a vampiric boss wasn’t included in the contract.

No wonder the benefits were so great, he was gonna drink your blood like a fucking juice box.

“What in the world? First of all, my name’s Y/n, and I would appreciate if you would call me as such. Secondly, a vampire? Do you really think I’m just going to accept that, no question?”

Incredulous, you had gestured your hands in a dramatic fashion, genuinely offended that your new boss had thought you were going to take in this new information within seconds, and be completely fine with it.

Sighing with a look of irritation flashing across his features, he gestured for you to sit in an empty seat, proceeding to prop his chin on his hands. In his eyes, shone curiosity, and a challenge.

“Fine. What would you like to know?”

[miyalove]

not quite enemies | bakugou

—pairing: bakugo x fem!reader

—warnings: swearing, name calling, yelling, death threats, bakugou being his angry self, fluff *unedited

—synopsis: 2.9k | despite being his friend, it’s always fun to mess around with bakugou. today, you realized you went too far when you both get thrown into detention. you thought it was going to be a whole week of silent cleaning and death threats but to your surprise, he’s a lot more pleasant than you had originally thought.

—a/n: based off of this prompt #7 by @//raggedy-dxctor​!

you and bakugou have an odd friendship, if that’s what you would even call it.

you’re constantly by his side, but it’s not just because you enjoy his presence, like his other friends do too but it’s because you just get a real kick out of making fun of him. you’ve known the blonde for years by now, you even dare say that your friendship goes further back than the one he has with midoriya! even despite your rocky friendship though, bakugou has a special place in you heart but you’d rather be caught dead then ever admit that aloud. 

every morning, you and midoriya walk to school together because you’re in the same neighborhood, and every morning right when you arrive to class you make a b-line straight for bakugou’s desk. it’s not just because you like messing around with him though, your desk just so happens to be perfectly placed right behind his. 

“good morning, katsuki,” your tone too sweet for him. as you settle yourself down in your seat, you see his red eyes steal an all too obvious glance your way but he makes no response. simply rolling his eyes, before staring back out the large glass windows.

most people would be offended and even peeved off that they just got brushed off by the bakugou katsuki but not you. no, you’ve known him long enough to know that this was merely a test to see if you’d actually continue talking to him like the good friends you are and just his luck, because you’re feeling extra friendly today!

you let out a light giggle thinking to yourself, the silent treatment never stopped me before, silly! smiling, you lean forward on your desk making sure your lips brush his ear as you whisper, “huh? didn’t you hear me? what is all that hair messing up your hearing?” to further piss him off, you punctuate your last question by lightly knocking on the crown of his head.

that surely got his attention. in a split second, he’s facing you. his seat flies back with how fast he stands. his features are morphed into an expression that vaguely reminds you of a feral animal baring it’s teeth. you have to force yourself to swallow down a laugh because honestly, who can take this angry little pomeranian seriously. despite you studying his face, you missed the light pink blush covering his ears or the way he slightly flinched when he felt your hot breath tickle his lobes. he’s thankful that you did though because if you did catch is two seconds of weakness he’d probably never live it down. 

“shut it, shitty girl, or else!”

you’re smirking as you look up at the enraged bakugou. he’s basically foaming at the mouth with how relaxed you are. most people are appalled at his words or even try and calm him down but no, you’re literally just making things worse.

sighing, you rest your chin on your palm as your fingers carelessly tap to a tune on your cheek. your teasing smile never fades, “or else what?” innocently, you tilt your head in question, your eyes meet his red ones filled with rage. you can’t help but to trace the tale tail signs of a classic bakugou tantrum from his features. 

with his brows furrowed so hard, you make a mental note on how that might cause permanent wrinkle damage for later banter with the blonde. his mouth is sneered, showing of his perfectly white teeth as they grind on each other and just like classic bakugou, he’s all up in your face.

before he was merely standing in front of your desk, nose in the air as a constant reminder that you’re below him. now, he’s inches apart from your face and if it were anyone else, you would have made a playful comment about how this was kissing distance but this isn’t one of the many boys you like to playfully flirt with. this is bakugou katsuki, the boy you love messing around with.

in a matter of seconds, you see the blonde claw his hands up. tiny explosions go off in his palms and you can’t help but study the smoke releasing from his palms. with how fast the explosions are going off, the room quickly is waffled with the smell of burnt chocolate.  

“or else i’ll kill you!” bakugou barks.

“you’ll kill me?” you speak unisons with his threat. his red eyes are wide and if looks could kill, you’d have already been 6ft under. at this point, this argument as already gotten the whole classes’ attention. 

in the corner of your eyes, you see the blue-hair representative already stiffly march towards the two of you. yaororozu, quickly stands up in her seat too most definitely looking to break up your fun time. 

with those two quickly coming on your ass, you won’t be able to mess around with him until later on in the day. how sad that they had to ruin your fun and so early too! unwillingly, you pout at the idea of letting bakugou go. you can’t give up, no, that’s not like you at all. you can’t have this feral hero-wannabe think he’s won. 

before you were smirking up at a frenzied bakugou who was practically ready to murder you six different times. now, you lean back into your seat placing your feet up on the desk, your skirt casually rests on your legs.

you shift all your weight on the two back legs of your chair, rocking slightly forward and back. to anyone, even to bakugou, you looked like the human embodiment of unbothered. your hands rest at the back of your head, lightly fingering through your own tresses. 

your colored hues meet his own glossed over red ones. you want to see him react when you deliver the final blow. forcing out a yawn, one of your hands cover your mouth to emphasis your movements, “we’ve all heard that one before and yet i’m still here. nobody likes liars, katsuki.”

what comes nexts happens so fast. considering your close proximity, you should have known better than to provoke the blonde, but you can’t go back to fix it now. all at once, bakugou’s pulls back his arm, open palm and all, shouting excitedly about something you couldn’t really catch not with the explosion that comes echoing seconds after the words leave his lips. the blonde’s open palm cames crashing down on your desk and once he made contact, a loud boom echoes in the room. 

light flashed in your eyes causing you to go blind for a few seconds. gasps were heard and screams of protests too. you just hoped that the classmates around you were okay. you’re quick to to move out of the way of his blasts, thankful that you’ve been training hard because if you hadn’t have developed your reflexes more you would have definitely been a goner.

when the dust finally settles, and you feel your heart beat steady. the air clears and you let out a sigh of relief when you see your all your classmates are safe and sound. your desk is gone, instead it’s a pile of dust spread out on the floor of your classroom. 

above that pile is bakugou katsuki. he’s standing before you eyes crazed and shoulders straightened out. his stance is strong and when you see him kick back his feet into his classic fighting stance, you realize what he’s proposing. 

there’s a part of you that wants to say yes to his silent offering. in fact, you have to stop yourself from fully charging at the boy. your shoulders tense, hands clenched into hard fist. what the hell was this boy thinking just throwing out random explosions like that? he could have killed someone!

“what got nothing to say now, shitty girl?” it takes everything in you to not respond. you bite back your tongue as you scan the crowd of your classmates. kaminari is shaking in the corner of the room while iida, yaoyorozu, and even kirishima are screaming at you and bakugou to stop. at least that’s what you think they’re saying. the ringing in your ears hasn’t really stopped yet...

you look for a set of green eyes and but you never find them. shaking your head, you dust yourself off of any remaining soot before finding your seat again.

“i didn’t think you would attack me like that, katsuki,” dragging your chair from across the room, the sound of metal squeaking across the ground accompanies your words. you line it back up to where it once was and take a seat. 

“you almost had me, really,” crossing your legs over the other, you lean forward resting elbow on your knee, “better luck next time though.”

okay so maybe this time him trying to attack you again was your fault. the key word in that last statement being: trying. right as he let out a ferocious growl and another lovely string of insults come fluttering out of his pretty little mouth, white scarves wrapped around his torso and arms successfully restraining the wild beast.

there at the entrance of the door was your sleep deprived teacher with his eyes glowing and physics denying hair. you would never admit it aloud but your glad he came just in the nick of time because in all honesty, if you ever were to go up against bakugou in a fight you know you’d loose.

he’s a lot stronger, faster, and strategic than you are. not to day that you’re the weakest of the weak but bakugou is the #1 in your class for a reason. there’s no doubt in you head you’d loose, but you’d still give it your all if it ever came down to it... thank whatever god out there that it didn’t!

you can hear the muffled screams of your friend as aizawa pulls him back with his scarf. you can’t help but to let out a small laugh as he struggles against the restraints. bakugou even goes as far as biting on them like some kind of animal. sometimes, you really enjoyed the shenanigans the blonde brings to the table even if they aren’t meant to be funny.

“oh thank god you’re here, mr. aizawa!” you hear yaoyorozu plead.

mina’s the next one to speak up, “yeah, these two were like totally going crazy! it was beyond scary!” her cheery jab lifts a weight off your shoulders. you’re glad to know that at least one of your classmates doesn’t hold bakuogu’s outburst against you.

“bakugou, (y/n). i hope you know this little scene the two of you caused will have harsh consequences,” iida’s practically shouting over all the other commotion of your classmates. you quirk a brow up at your friend, realizing that perhaps you did push it a little too far this time.

now standing next to aizwa, bakugou doesn’t have the restraints on him. instead, aiwaza looms over the blonde’s figure ready to strike at him.

“i agree with iida. what the two of you did displayed ignorance,” his black eyes stare you down from across the room. you shutter at his intense gaze. “and indiscipline.” he ends his sentence by pointedly glaring at a grumbling bakugou by his side. 

“detention for both of you will be required at the end of class starting today and ending next week monday. hope this’ll gives you two time to think how dangerous that stunt was,” you want to protest but you don’t feel you’re in the right to do so. so you nod, taking the heat from aizawa and just sit there. however, your partner in crime doesn’t handle the news as great as you do. 

bakugou let’s out a scoff, “detention? you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” 

enraged eyes clash with yours form across the room, it looks like he wants to say more but one harsh glare from your teacher has him shutting up. 

“glad we’re in agreement then,” bakugou let’s out a harsh whatever before strutting to his seat in front of you. “now everyone else take your seats, class is beginning.”

there’s a silence between the two of you that you can’t exactly pin point why it bothers you so much. once class was over, aizawa demanded the class to leave things the way they were so you and bakugou can tidy after everyone. 

it was a cruel punishment; cleaning, but you figured that at least bakugou was there which meant more hands to help. you didn’t know what you were expecting when the classroom finally emptied and it was just the two of you alone. 

perhaps you thought that he’d go after you again. it was the perfect opportunity to do so. your teacher was gone, your classmates were gone, and the two of you would be alone for an hour or so. when you came back with the brooms and mops, you slide the large door open and braced yourself for impact— but nothing came.

you froze at the door, clutching onto the cleaning supplies with your dear life waiting for bakugou to do something, anything... but when nothing came, you peeked open one eye only to be meet with the blonde a few feet away from you.

he scowls at your figure, nothing new, before coming towards you and grabbing the broom out of your grip, “hurry up, shitty girl. i have places to be after school and if we don’t get this done fast, i’ll—”

it surprises you when he doesn’t finish. it’s unlike bakugou to just let words die on his tongue unless something’s really caught him off guard. you can’t help but to be curious. following his figure, you creep behind him as he starts to sweep the floor.

lifting your self up on a desk, your legs dangle in the air. bakugou’s figure isn’t too far from yours. in fact if you reach out your hand, you could probably play with his hair. you stare at his figure, wide eyed and interested. what has gotten the bakugou katsuki so off guard and quiet?

“you’ll what?” 

he doesn’t bother looking at you. he continues to sweep at the dust refusing to give you the satisfaction of his attention. that’s probably what you want anyways. since day one, you’ve always been this force to be reckoned with. since you and him were kids, bakugou has seen you as the one constant in his life that, believe it or not, he didn’t absolutely despise (not as much as that green haired bastard at least).

you were his equal since day one, and when you finally developed your strong quirk the two of you ruled over all the playgrounds and schools. sure, you’d both butt head every now and then but you were and still are kids. that’s what kids do! 

it’s takes literal seconds for him to forgive you whenever you get too out of hand and the exact same thing could be said about you. that’s why there was no surprise attack. not only would that be a cheap shot, which is something bakugou never does, but also because it’s in the past now. if he did some stupid shit like that to you, you’d have instantly forgiven him. he knows because of past experiences...

“i’ll kill you.”

it comes out as a whisper. a mere mumble of words that said from anyone else, would worry you but it’s from bakugou, one of your closest friends (even if you won’t ever admit that). 

an unfamiliar feelings burdens your chest. it’s heavy as you feel it weigh down on your breathing, hitching your breath every once in a while. letting out a shaky sigh, your lips are pulled into a smile.

a real one this time, not one with malicious intent. not a smirk, that’s meant to make the blonde before you feel lesser. no, this is a real and rare smile with your teeth showing off and everything.

“predictable, much?” giggling, you grab at the dust pan laying on a lone desk. squatting down, you line the pan with bakugou’s pile of dirt he’s been working on since you got here. his gaze switches from the pile to you. his eyes linger for a little too long to be considered normal, before letting out a harsh sigh and sweeping it in.

“maybe only to you, freak.” he lets out on of those chuckles that he tries to play off as anything but a laugh but you know him better than that. and when you roll your eyes, you can’t help but admire the young boy before you.

you’re impressed to say the least. how he managed to control his rage just for you makes you a little giddy inside. an unfamiliar tickle in your stomach makes you suddenly queazy. as you stare, with a gleaming grin softly lined on your lips you figured bakugou thought it was a good time to return the favor.

he smiles down at you. head raised high and the ends of his lips barley turn up. if you hadn’t been studying him, you’d have missed his small but bright grin. as he stares down at you, one things comes to mind; maybe this loser isn’t all that bad after all. 

[lovetenya]

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜𝐬 (𝟐)

pairing: tenya iida x gn! reader

warnings: a couple of swear words. nobody’s angry or swearing at each other.

word count: 1.5k. i’d count it as a oneshot if it was more organized. :)

author’s note: thank you so much for the love on my work! your reblogs and comments make me so happy!! this one isn’t extremely romantic, but there is some fluffy reassurance. tenya deserves so much more love than he gets.

click on the star to read part one -> ✧

Dating Iida Tenya would ALSO include...

Tenya facetiming you to tell you all about the book he’s reading and to help with homework when you can’t be together 

He’s so passionate about his books! I mean, I hope so, because he has so many of them and I can totally see him thinking reading is a “worthy” hobby because it’s productive and “intellectually challenging”

Tenya: “I can’t believe the main character dies! That very rarely happens in literature! I wonder if the author was trying to say something about...”

If you’re not as much of a reader as he is, please act interested and show him you care what he’s talking about!!! He thrives on genuine interest because he’s familiar with being used for homework answers!! (more on that later)

If you thought his nerd rambles were bad, get ready for literary nerd rambles!!! They’re so much better!! (or worse, if you’re a hater)

He will proofread every single essay you write and read draft after draft and never complain

“Hm... I see where you were trying to go with this point, but your line of reasoning needs work.” 

“Is this claim evidence based? You really shouldn’t make assumptions without studying the bias the researchers may have possessed when gathering the data. It’s really easy to use the same statistics to prove two sides of the same argument and you shouldn’t--”

“Tenya, it’s a worksheet. It’s worth five points.”

“Even so! You should always put forth your best effort!”

He will offer his help, but vehemently insist that he’s not going to just give you the answers. No, you don’t get a break just because you’re his s/o. You’ve still gotta work for your grades.

He’ll make sure you’re the one figuring it out. (He wants you to succeed, duh. What kind of class representative would he be if he enabled academic dishonesty???)(A bad one)

People seem to forget that he tried to kill someone, had a sword driven through his shoulder and never really regained full control over his arm. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s confirmed that Iidas have to rip out their mufflers in order to grow new, stronger ones? That’s so scary? I think we should discuss this more. The man is a badass. He called Midoriya the famous “Mr. House Arrest” and called Bakugo a cretin??? He deserves so much more credit for his sassiness than he gets credit for. Just let him be a bossy legend, alright?

He would snap at you to start focusing when you’re studying together 

Don’t get me wrong, he likes you a whole lot, but he also cannot stand being behind on lessons and is not gonna let someone get between him and his hard earned A+++s

He doesn’t like to be together in the common room because he doesn’t like to be teased about the relationship he’s very proud of but very protective over

You’re both surprised you manage to juggle your hectic lives, but it just makes every moment more special

So you usually end up sneaking into his dorm room while he’s making rounds making sure everyone is safe in their rooms. 

(Okay so, I lied. This is the exception to the rule of ‘you don’t get breaks’. This time, he lets it (you) slide.)

He doesn’t want to be a bad role model for the others and give them any ideas, but he also doesn’t want to be a hypocrite

So if he were to see one of his classmates sneaking into someone’s dorm…. No he didn’t. 

He’s the kind of person that doesn’t care what his classmates do as long as they’re being safe. He’s not interested in the details. 

You often end up cuddled up in his bed under his blankets <3

His laptop sits on his lap and he’d put on a documentary, probably

He would ask you whether you came to talk or to watch the movie if you asked too many questions during it HAHA

“Why are you asking me about this? Haven’t you read chapter 9 in our science textbook? It gives a clear description of--”

“Dude. We’re on chapter four. How and more importantly, WHY are you so far ahead???”

“I was bored and wanted to be productive instead of letting my brain rot from idleness…”

“Oh my god. You’re such a nerd.”

He sticks out his tongue at you and pushes his glasses further up his nose at this blasphemous suggestion.

He’d pick up (or help cook) dinner beforehand so you don’t have to leave the room and risk being discovered!! (Even though literally nobody would snitch, he still doesn’t want to break the rules further than what he’s already guilty of)

I have a feeling he really like classic movies too and when you watch them together he’ll explain how they did all of the stunts or the special effects

He’d know every single word to a movie and would DEFINITELY recite his favorite parts dramatically, while still trying to make as little noise as possible

He’d do god-awful impressions and his silly exaggerated choppy hands to make you laugh

You love that it’s a side of him that nobody else gets to see because he doesn’t have very many opportunities to let loose and be a normal teenage boy

It’s just simple fun and it’s sweet to be there with him and to see him like this, especially when he goes into theatrical mode for his bedroom performances

Again, I’m mentioning the fact that a sword was driven through his shoulder and he allowed the injury to remain untreated because he wanted to have a reminder that he stood for something once. 

He had every opportunity to just have Recovery Girl kiss it better, but he’s too determined to be the best version of himself possible. He won’t forget the battles he fought to bring him to his inevitable victory.

Since his arms never returned to full capacity and he’s still in the beginning stages of recovery, his hand and arm cramp sometimes. He’s not one to complain about his pain, so you might have to pay attention to catch the way he hesitates to grab things sometimes, or how he flinches when he twists his arm the wrong way. 

He would never ask you to give him a massage, but if you did, he would be so grateful for the way your fingers seem to ease the knots of burning muscle. His muscles feel like corded steel underneath your hands, but they’re still extremely sensitive to touch.

He needs those gentle touches to remind him that he isn’t any weaker than anybody else just because he’s in pain. If anything, he’s stronger, because he’s living and succeeding through the pain that nobody else has. He hasn’t succumbed to the pain and he never will.

Everyone gets insecure sometimes, even Tenya Iida.

He needs reassurance sometimes that his classmates respect him and don’t hang out with him as a joke.

He just wants what’s best for them and doesn’t want them to think he’s being a hard ass for no reason or that he bosses them around for the hell of it

One day, you’re studying together and he’s visibly upset. You don’t want to press him though because if he wants to talk about it, he will. He does. 

He starts, “Do you think.. No, nevermind.”

You: “What was that?”

“No. It’s silly, really.”

“Please, Tenya, tell me what’s wrong.”

He sighs, knowing it’s no use holding it in. He hesitates, uncharacteristically nervous. 

He’s usually so sure of himself. This is weird, you think.

He says, “Do you think our classmates like me?”

“Like you? Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“Well, I’m not sure. Do you think they see me as a friend? Or just as their class representative?”

“Of course they see you as a friend, honey. For example.. you and I always hang out with Izuku, Ochaco, and Shoto! We’re all still classmates even if we’re always trying to one-up each other!”

With a raised eyebrow, he asks “You don’t think they just like me because I help them with their homework?”

“No way, Tenya. I’m sure they really like you for you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, they talk about you when you’re not around--”

He blurts, “Really? What do they say?”

“All good things, nothing to worry about at all.” He lets out a breath at this (phew!) You continue, “They talk about how responsible you are--”

“They do not!” He sends a glare, but there isn’t any malice behind his eyes.

“No really! They do! They all admire you so much and they all wish they were as respected as you are!”

“Respected?”

“Yes, Tenya. They respect you.”

“Then why do they make fun of me so much? Just because I’m responsible doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”

“I know. They tease you because they’re your friends and it’s funny when you snap back at them. They’re trying to get you to lighten up a little.”

“Oh. They think I’m funny?”

“They sure do.”

“Hm…”

“I promise, honey. Your classmates like you, your friends like you, and everyone likes being around you. You’re more than just “a pleasure to have in class”, you know. And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”

“Thank you, my love. That made me feel a lot better.”

“Oh, good. Can I hug you now?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulls you into a hug and you both hum, content in each other’s warm embrace. You can’t help but softly smile.

thank you for reading! love, TJ ✮

link to my masterlist

[evera6234]

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter II

CHAPTER I

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY: 

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely.                ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3. 

Lemme know if u wanna be tagged

   “Yeah, your signatures don’t line up…” says the man at the front desk. “You said your name was… Lila Rossi, right? I’m looking for a... Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

   “Present,” an amused Marinette announces.

   “No! There must have been a mistake. I personally talked to Brucie and his 4 sons, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd, Dick Drake and my precious Damibear!”

   “Yeah no. That 100% didn’t happen. 100%,” the somewhat peeved front desk attendant grins.

   “How dare you talk to Lila like that! What’s your name? Give me your manager's number!” Alya fumes in a french accent (A/N: total karen moment intentionally placed). 

   “My name is Andrew Winston, and my supervisor….”

   “Hey Andrew, what’s poppin!” says a voice. After observation one could say that said voice comes from a tall muscular man, with a white streak in his hair, wearing a leather jacket.

   “My blood vessels, Jason. My blood vessels. Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be here today.”

    “Yeah, Dick broke his arm yesterday at home. He fell down the stairs. And since I am such an amazing brother, I decided that I would fill in for him today!”

   “You were forced,” concludes Andrew as he scratches out Lila’s name off the previously mentioned thicc stack of papers with a black marker. 

   “Yup.”

   “This is the class you are supposed to caddy around WE. And they seem to be a bit peeved right now.”

   Jason sighs, “Ok. what’s the issue…”

   “They are saying that Lila Rossi, here” Andrew points to Lila, then looks down at his notes “says she spoke to a Brucie, a Jason Grayson, a Tim Todd, a Dick Drake and her precious Damibear to set up this field trip. My info here says that a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng set this trip up but they don’t believe me.” Andrew nonchalantly continues “Speaking of which, Marinette please sign on all the starred lines. Lila and her friend already filled out everything else.”

   “Tim Todd!” Jason chokes. 

¬`

   The tour had slowed down in the corridors of Wayne Enterprises as Jason let the students go on a quick bathroom and water break. Lila had left for the bathroom, and it is safe to say that Marinette learnt her lesson to avoid bathroom confrontations with Lila. They were never fun, and right now she doesn’t think she can handle a wet shirt in winter. 

   “Really, Marinette. You take credit for all of Lila’s hard work,” says Kim passing by.

   “Do you have any idea how hard Lila worked on this, and you know she hardly has any time to spare.” Max pitches in. 

   “Yeah. Lila worked so fucking hard concocting the names Jason Grayson, Tim Todd and Dick Drake. Sounds like the revamped cast to The Three Stooges,” Chloe crackles giggling.

   “I sure wonder how Tim Todd and Jason Grayson are today? Are they well?” Marinette questions sarcastically.

   “Absolutely fucking amazing after hearing that!” Jason wheezes, overhearing the conversation. Jason gave Marinette a knowing look that confirmed an earlier inference. This Jason was Jason Todd. This was priceless. 

   Adrien’s eyes narrow on his angered face. “What was she doing.” “She promised to take the high road.” “She only needs me, I’m her best friend.” He watched the situation from a distance, unnoticed by Marinette. But as sly he is, he did not slip Jason’s radar. 

¬

   “So y’all, 1:30pm. That means, Lunch time!  Right and you’ll be at the cafeteria, I’ll be joining you guy in about 15 minutes. So fuel up. Remember to show your IDs, lunch is on the house! Bon appetit!” Jason cheerfully announced as bows dramatically (like actors at the end of a play) and he turns around.

   A bit into lunch Mrs. Bustier came up to Marinette and Chloe’s table. “Marinette, can I talk to you?” asks Mrs. Bustier. 

  “Can I come too, Mrs. Bustier?” asks Chloe suspiciously

   “No, Chloe. This is just in between Marinette and I, sorry.” Mrs. Bustier replies sternly.

   “It’s okay, Chloe. I’ll be fine,” reassured the ladybug holder, squeezing the bee holder’s hand.

   “Ok, fine. Let me know if something happens.” Then Chloe leans in to whisper to Marinette, “Audio record it, just in case.” Marinette nods. 

   “Ok, Mrs. Bustier. I’m coming!” replies the bluenette happily as she follows Mrs. Bustier away from the crowd. 

   Adrien, from his table with Nino, Alya and Lila watched, “Hey guys, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said before standing up.

¬

  “Marinette you should be setting an example for the class. What you did today, making fun of Lila was wrong,” Mrs. Bustier frowned. “You of all people know Lila's condition and you should be more accepting of her.” Disappointed, Mrs. Bustier continues, “I expect you to apologize to her before we head back to the hotel.”

   “With all respect, no thank you. I will not apologize for my actions,” Marinette sternly begins. “Does the school have any medical record of her illness?” Marinette asks. “Why should I allow her to take credit for my hard work? And why do I have to be the model student who is obligated to be kind to everyone, when no one ever is to me?” Marinette, now more frustrated than before, questions the teacher. She felt a storm of emotion begin to stir. 

   “Because you are the class representative! It is your responsibility to lead the class with your example! Lila is a student with needs, she needs to feel accepted by all her classmates and it is your job to fulfill her needs.”

   “I’m sorry Mrs. Bustier, but sometimes I can’t shove a square in a circle. Sometimes I can’t do things. Lila is lying, and I can’t lie with her. I will not lie.i will not pretend to like her. And why must I be responsible for all the students in class, but receive no respect for it. Receive nothing but hate and insults. How is that fair for me?” Tears begin to collect in Marinette’s eyes. Mrs. Bustier, for the longest time, has been one of Marinette’s favourite teachers. The fact that right now Mrs. Bustier, couldn’t give less of a shit about her feeling hurt. 

   “I understand but what about Lila’s feelings? I cannot let you bully Lila. You are being selfish right now, I never thought you could act like this. I am disappointed in you.” Mrs. Bustier finishes as she walks away. 

   “What about MY feelings. What about me, what’s so wrong with me being selfish every once in a while. Have you ever looked into my family’s bullying complaints against Lila? What about me?” Marinette cries  desperately, as Mrs. Bustier walks away. “Why is everyone ignoring me?”

   “The real question here is, why are you ignoring me?” growled a voice from behind Marinette. “I thought you promised me to take the high road.” Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes who’s talking to her. 

   “I never promised, Adrien. Not once. I can’t keep silent and alone for longer.”

   “You are not alone, you have me. And I even LET you talk with Chloe.”

   “Yes, I have Chloe and thank you your majesty for letting me communicate with another human being. And no, Adrien I do not have you,” Marinette raises her voice. “Lila has you, you only talk to me in secret. You let Lila lie, you let her hang off your pretty model arms when she wills. You are and were never on my side.”

   “So you really are jealous?”

   Marinette, delirious with anger frustration, her voice laced with contempt, “No, never.” 

   He looks down at Marinette and smiles “Stop lying Marinette.” 

   “I’m not.” Adrien looks back at Marinette, as if he knows something as he too stalks away. “I’M NOT!” Marinette yells. 

¬

   “So she said that she talked to Brucie, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd, a Dick Drake and her precious Damibear!” Jason nearly on his side from laughing too hard. 

   “DAMIBEAR!” Tim howled in laughter, with his hands wrapped around his torso to somehow hold his ribcage together. Both brother’s are laughing their asses off in Tim’s office.

   “I KNOW!”

   “Are we gonna tell him?” Tim begins to ask before he interrupts himself, “No! We are not. What we are going to do is call him that and let him figure it out, sooner or later he will meet the class and when he does…”

   Jason let the scenario Tim described play in his head, “YES! You now speak my wavelength, to be honest maybe Lila wasn’t lying. You may be a Todd.”

   “No fucking way am I one. By the way, you should check on the class, how long has it been since you left them?”

   “Shit! Twenty minutes! Farewell, dear Replacement.”

   “Have fun, report back on any juicy lies, specifically ones about sweet baby Damibear or even Brucie.” 

¬

   “What the fuck was that?” thought Jason as he heard two people arguing in a secluded hallway, “Marinette?” he thought when he saw the girl, immediately putting a name to the face. But he didn’t know the boy. Jason whipped out his phone and quickly took a picture of the situation, making sure to get a clear shot of the boy’s face. For research purposes.

Gunz Blazin: Hey Tim Todd

Gunz Blazin:  Can you gimme a background check for this guy 

(*attaches a cropped image of the mystery boy’s face*) 

Boy Wonder: ???Tim Todd???

Replacement: I gotchu fam. 

Boy Wonder: ???fam???

Boy Wonder: ???

Boy Wonder: Can I be a Todd too

Replacement: No you're a Drake 

   Jason heard a voice coming from behind him, “That’s Adrien Agreste.” 

   Jason turns his head to look at the boy again and hears more of the conversation. He turns back and she’s a tall-ish blonde girl with blue eyes. “You are? Marinette’s friend?”

   “Yes.”

   “And he is not Marinette’s friend?”

   “He absolutely is not Marinette’s friend. He’s the ass-hat who thinks he owns Marinette. Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?”

   “Yes.”

   “What if I just break his nose a little.” (Requested by Ollietheturtle, my new dear editor)

   “As an employee of Wayne Enterprises, I’m supposed to say no, but in all honestly I kinda wanna do that myself…”

¬

TAG LIST: @jeminiikrystal @demonicbusiness @i-am-ironic @woe-is-me0 @miracleofadisaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @onmywaytoloveyou

[barsformars]

Dean's Office

//

g - fluff

p - wooyoung x reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - none

c - reader who is not very well liked among the teachers meets wooyoung, their table partner and the complete opposite of them in the teachers' eyes, in the dean's office.

a.n - this has been sitting in my drafts forever i almost forgot to post it because ive been working on requests jdjsjsj

t.l - @closer-stars​ @jeongyunhoed​ @fairyofdusk​

//

seonghwa | hongjoong | yunho | yeosang | san | mingi | wooyoung° | jongho

If there was anyone you would never expect to see sitting in the dean's office, it would be your table partner. Sure, he's can be a little rowdy and annoying at times but apart from that, he's the closest thing to a model student.

"Wooyoung? The hell are you doing here? I thought you were just late for class, like for the first time in your life." Oh, perhaps you should have minded your language a little more. Since, you know, you're in the dean's office.

Wooyoung whipped his head around, as surprised, or maybe even more, to ever see you here. Sure, your grades have always been excellent but apart from that, you're the closest thing to a substitute teacher's worst nightmare. Speaking of substitute teachers, that's exactly why you were called in here. But wait, Wooyoung is speaking.

"Oh, they wanted to thank me for representing the school in that dance competition I went last month-"

Eurgh, they call people in just for that too?"

-along with many other things......" Wooyoung's voice trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to come across as arrogant, though you already knew very well that he was far from that. There was a reason he was one of your favourite people in school.

"Oh." Your eyebrows arched up at his words as you nodded slowly, taking a seat in the chair that he had already pulled out for you. "So where did Mrs Noh go?" You asked, legs crossed and fingers impatiently tapping on the mahogany desk.

"She had to pick up a call," Wooyoung replied, letting out a soft scoff and grin when he saw the way you were sitting. Most people would be too nervous to even breathe in the dean's office but here you were acting like the place was yours. Have you been in here before without him knowing? "I haven't asked but, what are you doing here? I suppose it's not for something praise-worthy?" When you shot him a look that was half out of disbelief and half of ridicule, Wooyoung knew that he shouldn't even have asked. Not that he thought you were a bad person - you weren't - you were just not very well liked by the teachers for, well, many reasons.

"I told the substitute literature teacher that his teaching was worse than eating an unsalted rotten kimchi." You shrugged, you didn't think you had done anything worth being called to the dean's office for. You were just speaking the truth. "What?" Wooyoung stared at you, waiting for you to carry on with your story, knowing that was definitely not everything that went down while he was away from you (he would have made you apologised right away if he was there). "Okay, okay, so then I just stood up and left the class because I couldn't sit in there listening to his rubbish any longer."

"I leave you alone in class for like 15 minutes and shit happens," Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed his temples. "And it was literally only 15 minutes, just what did he say for you to conclude so quickly that he was bad at teaching?"

Before you could start ranting to Wooyoung, the dean opened the door with an apologetic smile directed towards Wooyoung, her wrinkled face shrivelling up even further with displeasure when she noticed that you were there as well.

What would be the better facial expression in response to that? Rolling your eyes, like your natural instincts tell you to, or faking an innocent smile, because that was what Wooyoung would tell you to do? You had no choice but to settle for the latter when Wooyoung nudged your leg, simultaneously telling you to sit properly as well.

You don't even know why you listen to Wooyoung so well. You usually hate it when others tell you to do, but if Wooyoung were to ask you to walk into Louis Vuitton and attempt to steal a $10,000 bag for him, you would. Not that he would ever, but yes, you would, and not even mention his name during interrogation.

"You should spend more time with people like Wooyoung, then maybe you will learn to have some manners!" Mrs Noh criticised, causing you and Wooyoung you exchange knowing looks as the both of you tried your very best to not burst out laughing.

"Good grades mean nothing if your attitude is bad!"

"Yes, ma'am."

After making Wooyoung sit through your scolding and you his mini award ceremony, the dean sent the both of you back to class together. "She said we should spend more time together," Wooyoung giggled, poking at your side as he wiggled his eyebrow.

"Gross, I'm sick from having to see your face everytime I turn to my left when I'm just trying appreciate Yeosang's visuals," you pretended to gag and Wooyoung proceeded to reach for your head to ruffle your hair, purposely annoying you as a punishment for saying that. Maybe you shouldn't have made it seem that you hated Wooyoung doing that, because it was the total opposite. Your heart was already starting to race

."How awkward will it be if you walked back into class right now?" Wooyoung laughed, thinking about how you would still have to sit through another hour of the substitute teacher's class. When you don't send a kick to his butt like you usually would, Wooyoung turned to look at you, slightly concerned.

"Are you that angry just thinking about it? Your face is so red."

Silence.

"Y-"

"Jeong Wooyoung, I like you." You blurted out, completely taking Wooyoung, and yourself, by surprise. Well technically, it wasn't the fact that you had feelings for him that came as a shock to him. It would take an idiot to not see that you were whipped for him, and vice versa. Wooyoung just didn't think that you would ever admit it, because he would never, and you must say, you didn't either.

"That was very abrupt," Wooyoung commented as he stared blankly at the empty corridor behind you. It was, it was. Those five words had completely knocked all the thoughts out of his brain, and suddenly he became very aware of how heavy his arms were from merely hanging from his shoulders. Where should he even place them? Stick them right next to his legs, reach out to hold you (where anyways), or to just leave them be?

Silence.

"Are you not going to say anything else?" Wooyoung asked, unsure of how to continue, or end, this conversation.

"Are you not going to give me a reply?" Oh, right, he hasn't. "I guess we should do what the dean said you should do then. Hang out with me more," Wooyoung said. "And I mean not as friends, by the way."

There comes the kick to his butt. "So do you like me too or what?" Wooyoung let out a sigh of relief, you were back to normal.

"Yes, did you not hear my last sentence?"

"Then say it!"

"Ask for it cutely." Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at you, his arms crossed over his chest. He was already starting to tease you now that he was sure that you had a very soft spot for him.

"Nevermind, I take back my words. I don't like you anymore," you huffed as you walked away, leaving him behind.

"Hey, fine! I like you too! Why are you running away? I'm saying that I like you too!"