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idontblushsrry · 3 years ago

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How the Jujutsu Kaisen Characters Smell

A/N: Absolutely no one asked for this but I have thoughts and now yall have to hear them. Btw gonna put a keep reading because I’m trying to cover as many jjk characters as possible so it’s gonna get long.

Warnings: Spoilers if you’ve only seen the anime or haven’t read the manga up to the Shibuya Arc (relatively minor but you’ve been warned)

Itadori

He’s nowhere near the best smelling but his scent isn’t awful

He sweats a lot so he takes showers a minimum of 2x a day

Overall his smell isn’t that bad, he just smells like outside

5/10 points for effort but he always smells like he just got done rolling around in grass

Fushiguro

Fushiguro smells like the suave ocean breeze body wash with an undertone of pen ink

His smell is very nice, it’s not the most remarkable but it’s not stinky

Middle school Megumi was definitely a hot mess that smelled solely of axe body spray and other middle schoolers he beat up (Tsumiki tried her best but there was only so much he’d compromise on)

After he started attending the Tokyo school, Maki threw out his axe and made Gojo buy him actual cologne/scented body wash

7/10 smells like a friend (points reduced because he used to use 3 in 1 body wash)

Kugisaki

Kugisaki is very much clean

She keeps up a beauty regimen and doesn’t play when it comes to upkeeping it

She has this light floral scent because of that; it varies between cucumbers and roses

Her body wash is also consistent with the smell of her beauty products

One thing about Kugisaki’s smell is that it does change completely depending on what products she’s using

Although, if she were to be completely clean with no scented products, she’d have a smell that’s a little bit metallic because of the nails and a little pumpkin-y

10/10 points because she sets the standard

Gojo

Smells like the inside of a guys car

He smells like bergamot and cedarwood mixed with a hint of leather

Overall he smells nice and it’s frustrating because his scent lingers. It’s so distinct that even when he’s gone, his scent will stay behind just to taunt you

9/10 minus one point for being Gojo

Maki

She’s very particular about hygiene

It mainly stems from 1) her upbringing and 2) the level of cleanliness needed to clean all the weapons she uses regularly

She smells of metal polish, lavender with a hint of patchouli, and a slight undertone of rust

10/10 overall very strong scent but it’s so uniquely her that it’s calming

Inumaki

This makes no sense but I feel like Inumaki smells like the sandwich part of a deli

Specifically that fresh baked bread and sliced lettuce smell

It can be a bit nostalgic at times especially because the smell in general occurs in a lot of places

10/10 because bread smells good

Panda

It’s canon that Panda smells like the sun but we can get more specific

Panda does smell like the sun but I think he smells like a freshly cleaned room with the curtains open

The smell is like air freshener mixed with the sun

The air fresheners he smells the most like are: morning and dew, wood, pine, pet odor eliminator

10/10 no explanation needed

Yuta

Smells like teen spirit

Pre-jujutsu high (and before he was sent away to Africa); Yuta smelled like deodorant

He smelled like wayyy too much old spice, it was pretty bad

Post trip to Africa (idk which country he went to), Yuta smells of shea butter, frankincense, and charred wood

8/10 the crimes of pre jujutsu high Yuta will not be easily forgiven

Nanami

He smells like the blue Ralph Polo Lauren cologne

No I will not take criticism

He also smells a bit like the wrinkle spray people use when ironing clothes

10/10 we been knew that Nanami looks good, smells good, and dresses good

I don’t even like that cologne but for him...

Shoko

Love Shoko but her smell isn’t the most pleasant

Literally smells like cigarettes and alcohol with the sterile smell of cleaner to top it off

She’s an icon but her smell can be overwhelming at the best of times and suffocating at the worst

5/10 some people might like it but it is not for me

Utahime

Her scent is very foresty, either pine or spruce, with an undertone of gree tea

Her scent is a bit muted too so you can only really smell it if she’s really close or if you’re hugging her

It’s not a bad scent though, it’s the type that immediately sets you on ease

10/10 smells like a warm hug

Mechamaru(spoilers)

He’s a robot what’d you expect???

Jkjk Pre-Shibuya he smells really sterile and clean due to his condition

His robots obviously smell like metal and wiring

Post-Shibuya arc(or yk during technically): He smells kind of like nothing

There's the slightest smell of sparks from his cursed technique and the hint of mojito’s smell lingering, but otherwise he smells like absolutely nothing

6/10 the lack of smell is a bit off putting

Miwa

I can’t explain but I feel like Miwa smells like banana and vanilla

Like Mai and Momo tricked her and she ended up actually liking the smell

6/10 not the worst but not the best

Mai

Mai smells really heavily of metal and gunpowder

Obviously brcause of her cursed technique but she ever expected it to stck to her like it does

She doesn’t make any active effort to change it though because she thinks it makes her seem cool and mysterious

4/10 because while it DOES make her seem cool and mysterious, she scares locals

Momo

She definitely uses bath and body works perfume (tempted to say she uses the glittery versions but alas)

She loves using all the candles, lotions, and perfumes because of how girly they make her feel; has a collection that’s probably on a rotater

Definitely uses sweet pea above all

Tries to get Mai to try some of her fragrances but she has a 30/70 chance of getting her to agree

7/10 another scent that’s not for me

Todo

He has a really intense cleaning regimen and is never caught lackin in the smell department

He gets all the more embarrassed when Yuuji smells stinky next to him and will always make Yuuji shower if thr boy stinks

Other than that, he smelled of an ocean-y cologne before Takada-chan released her perfume collection

Now all he talks about is how he smells like the perfect husband for Takada

Takada’s perfume is really light a floral (along the lines of rose + vanilla) and if Todo runs out, he tries to steal it from Momo’s collection

9/10 minus a point for being a simp

Noritoshi

Smells really clean except for when he’s using his cursed technique

On average, Noritoshi smells like the clean linen spray/ clean laundry

When he uses his technique, he smells like blood and when he uses his technique to “dope”, he smells like sweat

Usually he smells like clean laundry though, he’s very picky about how he smells and hates the smell he gets from using his technique

10/10 for keeping clean

Naoya

If you think this man washes his ass...

Sorry but he’s a little too busy being a misogynist

Naoya saw the term gooch grease and was like “wow someone gets it!”

-400/10 I’m sick of talking about the ways this man smells like a popped neck pimple

Mahito

Only person that smells worse than Naoya

If Naoya smells like a popped neck pimple, Mahito smells like a literal sewer

He smells like sewage, garbage, rot and decay, melted plastic,etc.

Not only does Mojito’s body stink, his breath stinks, hair stinks, just everything stinks

Jogo and Hanami can’t tell since they don’t have noses but everytime Geto gets a whiff, he dies a little inside

-21982913293237932392379319210391090320323019/10 GET BACK. GET BACK. GET BACK.

Sukuna

Pre-death; he smelled like blood 9 times out of 10

The other 10% of times he smelled like incense or jasmine but you’d never smell it for long

Post-death; stinky funky and rotten

I’m sorry but 1) he’s a mass murder who literally sits atop a mountain of skulls 2) he’s technically dead and only exists thriugh his fingers

If you think that man smells like anything other than rot and grave wax...

-2/10 be glad he got a higher score than Mahito

Choso

I love Choso with every ounce of my being

That being said, he smells like a scab

Scabs don’t even have smells but somehow he smells like one

Alright I’m done slandering him

3/10 because I didn’t have the heart to give him anything lower

Geto(spoilers)

Pre-Gojo angst: Geto was the best smelling sorcerer in the world

He was very meticulous about his grooming routine and showed Gojo how to care for himself w/o the aid of servants

A king of self care and personal grooming 10/10

Post-Gojo angst: Geto really stopped caring about his appearance

He’d keep clean to set a good example for his kids, but he didn’t really see the value of looking decent

Probably says “I refuse to use the technology of monkeys”

Even though Mahito smells worse, Geto does still hang around Mahito and that’s gonna rub off

2/10 take a shower man, sea water doesn’t count as cleaning yourself

Junpei

Junpei smells like dandelions/picked grass and cigarettes

Cigarettes are obviously because his mom smokes them so frequently the smell sticks to him

The dandelions/ picked grass smell is because Junpei spends a lot of time outside

Out of boredom or a need to keep his negative thoughts at bay, Junpei started picking at the grass

I do think he eventually started weaving flower crowns made of dandelions and strips of grass

6/10 because I feel bad for him

Toji

This man...

As much as I’d like to pretend he smells good, he has a drooling worm hanging off him and probably owns like one outfit

That being said, he’s not as stinky as Naoya or Mahito (or even Sukuna), because he does clean himself when he has the chance

It’s just that he spends his money so quickly that he kinda forgets sometimes

Although he usually has no problem finding some woman who’d be more than willing to put him up in a hotel room

His smell is musky but it’s not funky

He smells like a guy right before they start to get stinky, it’s a delicate balance

4/10 he’s a lil funky but it kinda feeds his image

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philicheesecake · 3 years ago

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Refugees pt 1 (vore fic)

Note: this takes place with my two newest OCs, Zi and Baka. I might write more about them as their story comes to me. I haven’t given them an exact size yet, but for now I’m saying Baka is 7-9 ft tall while Zi is 4 ft tall.

Warnings: Soft attempted fatal vore, minor burns and injuries, but safe in the end. A lot of cursing and general stinky behavior from Baka

—————

It had been nearly a week hiding underground. The sewer systems were growing claustrophobic and the darkness only grew as the two travelers tried to conserve the energy of their flashlight. Food supplies had run out two days ago, and both of them were growing restless.

Prince Baka as usual seemed to not take the situation seriously. How could he? He was a sheltered spoiled brat who knew nothing of how the real world worked. Zi was only doing their best to try to keep him out of trouble.

But now starving, with no clean water supply, and lost within the winding dark tunnels, anything seemed preferable to dying in here.

Zi stepped ahead through the tunnels, ears twitching as they listened out ahead for any sign of danger before motioning behind them to follow. There was a pause, but now steps forward. Only an exhausted groan. Then a splash.

Zi blinked in confusion, turning to see the prince trying to get up, having to crouch badly within the tunnels even as he got to his feet, due to his towering size. With the dimming flashlight shining towards his face, his weathered features could be seen. A crocodilian-esque being with three webbed crests spanning from his head to the tip of his tail. His green eyes were dry and exhausted.

"Mmmstarvin'. Fuckin starvin' down here," the prince bellowed weakly. "Can't go on like this..."

Zi sighed, stepping patiently over to the prince and mutely held out their hand to try to stabilize him to encourage him forward. The prince leaned his weight on Zi, before toppling over, splashing into the smelly sewage on top of the smaller creature. Zi coughed, wiping the contaminated water off of their face and grunted as they tried to crawl out from under the prince, trying again to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled, resisting the assistance, seeming set on dying here and now, in the midst of his toddler-like dramatic tantrum.

"Mmmwwwanna die then," Baka whined.

Zi grunted silently under their breath, managing to crawl out from beneath the prince and tugged on the side of his arm to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled dramatically once again, not wanting to move. "Lemme stay here. Don't wanna move... leave me to die..."

His stomach growled pleadingly, echoing through the dark tunnels. Zi sighed, letting the prince's arm splash to the ground like a ragdoll. They picked up the flashlight again and stood before the prince, thinking quietly for a moment before speaking. "Wait here,"

With a small bow of their head, they left through the tunnels, leaving Baka lying baffled in the puddles. Baka had told Zi to leave, but he hadn't really expected them to. Zi had sworn to serve him until they were freed. Did they just see the prince's death as their chance of freedom?

"You can't fffuckin tell mmme what to do!" The prince babbled. His voice only echoed uselessly through the sewers. He let out a whale-worthy moan and slumped back down in the puddles. He smelled awful. He hated the smell. He hated Zi. He hated his family. He hated the world. He hated everything. With this litany of hatred coursing through his mind, he slowly succumbed to sleep, believing this to be death at last.

A gentle hand shaking his shoulder was what brought him back to his senses, and the returning light of Zi's flashlight. Baka grumbled tiredly, closing his eyes again, not wanting to be brought back into this hell. He was perfectly content lying in this puddle and hating everything, and sleeping. He didn't have to exist in this disgusting sewer if his mind was somewhere else.

It seemed Zi had other plans, however. The smaller reptilian's soft voice insistent through the silent dripping ambience of the sewers. "There is a path leading to a river. We can get fresh water and fish there,"

The prince seemed reluctant at first, but anywhere but here was ideal. He was starving, and fish sounded better than nothing. He hoped it wasn't raw, though. He groaned as he lifted his head, reaching for Zi for assistance to get to his feet. Zi complied as well as they could, though they were just as equally deprived of strength, they just tried not to show it as much.

They led the prince to a low opening where the sewer runoff poured into a polluted river. It wasn't the sight that Baka had wished for, but anywhere was better than those sewers. He was never going in there again. Zi made sure the coast was clear before hopping softly into the river and nodded for the prince to follow. Baka collapsed into the running water, rolling a bit beneath the surface before resurfacing, refreshed to have his scales rid of the sewage slush and at least feeling a little cleaner. It seemed Zi had already done so before leading Baka there, visibly appearing cleaner in the better light. Although it was night out in the fresh air, the light from the stars and moons was almost overwhelming to get used to after being stuffed in the pitch darkness of the sewers for so long.

Zi frowned, looking into the river hopefully, though even in the darkness, they knew the prince was right. "We can at least collect some water here. But we can't stay out here for long."

"You fuckin cheated me," the prince growled. "You kept my fuckin hopes up this whole fuckin time. 'Just last one more day sir,' 'now isn't the time for cannibalism. I am here to serve you' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' and again and again and again and AGAIN. I'm fuckin SICK of this disaster," he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. "So you have to serve me one last fuckin time here. Help me out,"

Zi's brow furrowed slightly, showing the slightest trace of concern before stepping closer to take to the prince's side, seeming to assume that Baka needed some help standing. Baka's behavior altered, however, gripping Zi a little too tight for support, instead, bringing them closer and his mouth yawned wide above them, suddenly clamping his jaws over their shoulders. Zi was shocked, sucking in a surprised breath. The prince had mentioned eating Zi before while they were in the tunnels, but they hadn't considered that he would really do it. In panic, they struggled against the prince's grip, but he simply ignored it. The prince's mouth watered heavily, drenching Zi's upper half with sticky drool and drew them in deeper, beginning to swallow. The throat opened up before them and the slight jerking of the jaws forced Zi in deeper despite their protests. The tight throat dragged them downwards more quickly with each swallow and the shove of Baka's hands.

He didn't have long to enjoy this feast, however, when a beam of light shown down from the slope near the river and a team of uniformed armed men were all directed at him, quickly making their approach to surround him. The prince tried to sit up, wincing as the weight in his stomach sloshed and resettled from the action. "Can you just leave me for five fuckin minutes?" Baka grunted. The soldiers surrounded him and patted him down to search for any weapons, finding none, before binding his hands behind his back and led him up to their transport.

Sitting alone in the back of the high-security transport vehicle, he could feel Zi's struggles begin to weaken. They were just as weak as him, and he doubted they would last long. They seldom spoke normally, though he could hear their normally level voice sound out more fearful, albeit muffled, pleading for reason. The prince didn't bother listening, pressing a hand to his middle to coax them into digesting already.

"You're wasting your breath in there. You dragged me through fuckin hell, and now ya get your fuckin share of it," Baka grunted under his breath.

Zi went silent, hugging themselves in the hot, slimy darkness. Their struggles stopped, but their breathing was still fairly normal, a little panicked. They were probably trying to preserve energy.

"My service meant nothing?" They spoke quietly.

"Your service meant food that I should've given into a week ago," Baka grumbled. "And now we got captured anyways, so dragging me through those sewers was fuckin useless."

Zi went dead still, probably from disbelief, or despair, though it was hard telling their reaction without a visual. Not that Baka cared anyways. They should be dead soon.

The car came to a halt and the back doors opened from the truck. Armed guards led prince Baka through a sheriff's office, leading him to one of the back cells. They had been remote enough to be far from the capitol, so the police had to wait for the officials to show up before transporting him back to the new enemies' capitol.

For now, Baka slumped within the holding cell, lying back on the hard bed. "I don't wanna die... they're going to kill me," Baka spoke to himself, though his occupant heard. Ironic that he was complaining about dying while he was currently killing his most loyal and perhaps only ally.

"If you let me out, I can help... we can escape again," Zi offered hopefully, trying to keep emotion out of their voice. It was really beginning to sting in there, and the acid levels were steadily rising. The clenching walls persisted to grind the caustic fluids into Zi's exposed skin, and it was growing increasingly painful and unnerving.

"Mmmh, I don't wanna," Baka responded.

"Neither of us want to die, Baka. If we fail, we both die. If we succeed, we both live. If you kill me now, it would be inevitable for both of us,"

Baka groaned. He didn't respond for a moment, rubbing his gut almost mournfully. The acids were getting worse from this action, their level rising to fill half the chamber. Zi withheld a worried whimper in their throat, trying to keep their chin above the acids. The walls suddenly clenched tighter around the smaller reptile, painfully this time, nearly crushing their ribs, before the motion forced Zi back up the throat, carrying them upward with difficulty. The little breath they had collected was squeezed out of their lungs and they choked on the slime around them, nearly suffocating before their release.

A gagging sound and a glimmer of hopeful light beyond the jaws greeted them before they were coughed up onto the floor in a puddle of slime and acids. Zi gasped for air, shuddering violently and coughed up the slime that had caught in their throat. They dragged themselves across the floor to prop themselves against the wall of the cell, looking over at the prince with unveiled residual fear in their eyes.

Baka was on the floor lying on his stomach with drool dripping from his jaws, looking further nauseous and miserable. He let out a long drawn-out dramatic groan.

Zi hastily tried to wipe some of the slime off of their face, glancing down with a disgusted shudder to notice the nasty burns that marred their scales. They couldn't focus on that traumatic experience though, shakily getting to their feet. They stumbled over to the barred entrance of the holding cell, examining the lock and took out a lock pick, beginning to get to work.

A small click sounded once they succeeded, and they looked over at the prince, trying to help him to his feet. His hands were still bound behind his back, and Zi was almost too afraid to release him. Just as they helped Baka to his feet, alarms suddenly blared. They winced, ears flattening back and they looked towards the doorway fearfully.

"...fuck," Baka growled.

"We have to go," Zi went out the opening of cell, looking carefully down the hallway. Oddly, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and action was heard further within. Their brow furrowed in confusion, and they stepped silently into the main area of the police station, Baka dragging himself behind them with no regards for stealth, and seeming further interested in making as much of a dramatic scene as possible along the way.

The door opposing them suddenly swung open and several assorted armed men entered, not wearing the police uniforms, and appeared like standard civilians. Their eyes lit up in relief and one rushed forward to greet the freed prisoners with a bow. "Prince Baka, please come with us. We're here to help, and we're loyal to your line to the end,"

#v/ore #v.ore #soft vore #nonfatal vore #unwilling vore #unwilling prey #alligator vore #gator vore #crocodile vore #anthro vore #vore story

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years ago

Note

Sentence starters: 14, with Roman & Deceit??

Haha, long time, no write! We’re having a pretty poor time right now so I figured a little bit of Roceit would be in Order! Warning: I did not edit this in the slightest.

Summary: Roman has always been a little curious, but the pastry chef definitely takes the cake on this one.

Words: 3007

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @never-end1ng-suffering @nonasficcollection @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing List || Prompt Page (it should also be stated that you don’t need to pick from this prompt page if you don’t want to. Just send me an idea and I’ll do my best :D)

The Point of This is....

“Here, Bite Down on this.”

Roman has had a lot of weird first meetings. As a kid he liked to wander around the town meeting knew people, which, of course, drove his mother up a wall the first ninety or so times that she had glanced away from him for a second and he had disappeared completely on her. Roman was just a curious type of kid. The first time he had been confused by a couple of workers who were fixing an outlet behind one of the counters at his mothers favorite little shop, and he had just wanted to know what they were doing.

They had told him! Which had been cool. Did you know there were wires all in the walls?! He hadn’t even realized that his mom had been frantically looking for him until she had grabbed his arm in a frantic panic and asked if he was alright, and then don’t you dare wander off again! What if something had happened?! Roman!

It had happened again anyway, the store clerk had been redressing a mannequin and it had been neat! Then window cleaner, then flower arranger from the flower shop, then the busker outside the Irish themed pub he wasn’t allowed to be near, then the sign flipper at the street corner who taught him to spin one of the smaller signs--

The point was that by the time Roman hit middle school he knew most of the “little people” by name, and they of course knew his. Roman knew that a lot of them called him by his full name because his mother used to scream it when he went missing,-- Roman Alexander Prince, if you don’t get back here right this instant-- but he learned a lot of cool things!

He could arrange flowers, knew when and where the most dense foot traffic was, knew how to flip signs and draw attention. He could Macgyver his way through most electrical circuits, had the sewers under his town fully mentally mapped out, and knew that if you hit the vending machine behind the laundromat just right, you could get a free snickers bar.

He liked learning knew things. And for the most part? People liked to teach him.

As he got older, he noticed just how heartbreaking that sort of thing was. When he held the ladder steady for the owner of the Mom-and-Pop grocer while the old man replaced the “N” of the sign, the man had casually mentioned that the last person who asked him how he was doing had been a family man who had stopped coming months ago.

Then the more he looked, the more he had seen it: the when he waved to the woman who worked the bakery her whole face had lit up like he had gifted her the world, when he bought the street performer a water they had almost broken down to tears right there on the street, when he had offered the man sitting alone at the park with his head in his hands a chance to pet his dog, the man had called him a “generous kid” and tossed him five dollars before he left considerably happier than he was when he arrived.

The point-- and yes, Roman did have a point-- the point of all of this, was that Roman liked people. He liked learning things, and he liked hearing the stories that people had to share.

He liked telling those stories.

Which would probably explain how he got here: Mindscape, the ever prestigious school for the gifted. Although “gifted” tended to be a relative term. Roman had met a lot more people here, all his age, who eyed him warily like his smile was something to be scared of.

(”It is!” Remus, his twin had cackled from across the table in the dining hall, as if they didn’t have the same exact face.)

Roman and Remus had gotten in together, both on accident: Remus had crafted an application for Roman, sent it in without Roman’s knowledge, and then hacked the School’s Admissions database and marked the application for acceptance.

Things should have gone really bad, because Remus hadn’t known that the School President, Thomas Sanders, checks each and every application and when he noticed an application had skipped most of acceptance process he started digging.

Things should have gone really bad then. Like really bad. Like Remus ends up in jail and Roman has to change his name and move countries, really bad.

Instead Thomas Sanders, had sent them both acceptance letters, and Remus was required to work in the IT department without pay and take all the computer application classes. Somewhere in the middle of that Remus had struck up some sort of deal with the cyber defense team where the Mindscape’s tech department spent all school year building their best unhackable code, and in the summer Remus got to take anything and everything he learned that year and try to break it.

Remus had been winning for two years now. Roman had seen the grown men reduced to tears the moment that Remus’s hands had started flying over the keyboard.

Again, the point to this-- Roman had been at this boarding school for two years now, barreling his way through the journalism and creative writing classes like they were tissue paper walls. He’s met a lot of people his age, and he’s witnessed a lot of weird quirks about them.

Like how that kid in the library who likes to sleep on top of the bookcases, and Roman had witnessed getting swatted with a broom so many times. He was a gymnast and an acrobat and really freaking flexible-- and he had told Roman to fuck off when he had tried to learn anything more than that.

Or like that artist who ran the yearbook club took pictures of everything. It had been pretty cute the way the puffball had insisted on taking pictures of the cracks on the side walk, the clouds in the sky, the rainbow made from the refraction of the light through the glass windows. They had called it “catching little pieces of happiness in everyday!” Which was much sweeter than Roman had been anticipating. “Oops! Sorry gotta go, kiddo!” They had said and then they had been gone taking more pictures before Roman could ask anything about them.

Or like that guy from his Civics class who had gotten way too competitive about the trivia game they had played in class. It wasn’t just trivia though: Roman had learned later that he apparently Logan Ackroyd, the Logan Ackroyd, who had won the American chess tournament for three year in a row now. Any game that Logan touched, reportedly, he won. Chess, Checkers, Othello, Jenga, even Tic-Tac-Toe, and he treated them each like a life or death situation.

The point is of this is everyone had a weird quirk about them.

Roman knew that, knows that.

Heck, even Roman had a weird quirk, which apparently was wandering the school halls after classes. And now that includes being dragged into one of those classrooms by the hoodie of his sweatshirt and then immediately having a fork of something shoved in his mouth.

“VIRGIL!” Another voice squawks, followed by a telltale click of a camera taking a photo, but okay, Roman is a little too busy choking on a fork to take in everything.

There is a hand on his back, and one on his chest, holding him surprisingly steady, while he basically dies-- and man, he did not think that he’d be dying at seventeen years old. Who knew that his mother would be right all those times she insisted that his habit of walking around aimlessly was gonna be the death of him?

There are tears in his eyes by the time he manages an inhale, and someone takes the fork back out of his mouth. The hand on his back is rubbing soothing circles and his lungs flutter weakly, like a butterflies wings.

“Dude,” A voice says boredly. Roman squints up at his attacker-- because yes this was an attack and Roman will forever be scarred by it-- and vaguely recognizes the purple patched up hoodie for the library acrobat. “I said “Bite down on this”, not choke and die on the floor.”

Roman coughs to dislodge the last bit of whatever food just got shoved down his throat.

“Please ignore him,” A smooth voice says, a new voice, and one that sounds exactly like silk on Roman’s ears. “Are you okay?”

The new person, the man who is holding Roman, is, in a word, pretty. Actually, no wait, not pretty; he’s gorgeous. He’s beautiful. He’s Michelangelo’s David come to life, an angel straight from heaven, the God Apollo himself taking a quick break from driving his sun chariot to walk among the mortals--

“Virgil, what did you do!” The breathtaking stranger yelps.

“I didn’t do anything!” The acrobat shoots back, although he looks worried, “I just put the fork in his mouth! Oh shit, dude come on, please don’t tell me you’re allergic to something-- Dee what was in that? I can’t go to jail for killing someone! I just got here!”

There’s another click and a giggle and Roman blinks himself to enough awareness to realize that beside the three of them, there’s also that photography artist and the Logan Ackroyd in the room, also what looks like a cake with three slices cut out of it.

“You aren’t going to jail,” Logan says, although he’s playing on a Nintendo Switch and isn’t paying all that much attention to what’s going on.

“It just a cake,” Dee adds, almost desperately and Roman’s knees really do go weak at that. A pretty man? Using that tone to address Roman? Roman’s surprised he’s still conscious at all. “Are you allergic to eggs? What about Wheat? Milk?”

“Deep breath, kiddos!” The person with the camera suggests, and Roman knows immediately that they are 100% aware that his flushed cheeks and lack of breath are not from an allergy. They take another picture and Roman dies a little more on the inside.

“Please...don’t let... my brother see that,” Roman coughs one more time, “I’m begging.”

The artist just laughs and takes another picture.

“No allergies?” The god beside him says and Roman finds him looking absolutely anywhere but at him.

“No allergies,” Roman confirms, “None at all. It’s all good. And you know I should be--”

“What did you think of it?” The acrobat interrupts. And when Roman just blinks he snaps, “The cake, Princey! Tell Dee that the cake was fine and he can stop banging his head on the table now.”

Roman chances a glance at the man holding him up, and yeah, he could see the faint red marks were he had obviously been hitting his head on something. Unfortunately, said man was also looking at Roman, looking for his answer to the question that was just asked of him and Roman has already forgotten what it was again.

His eyes were different colors, and that totally reminded Roman of that week in the summer when he hung around the ophthalmologist just outside of town. Roman had looked at a lot of eyes, learned a lot about eyes in that time, but really there was something different about those ones. One was a brilliant bright brown, like hickory and the other was glistening gold. He looked like something straight from a fantasy.

Roman’s fantasy.

“Hey,” The stranger says softly, “Are you okay, darling?”

And that’s the last thing Roman remembers.

Because he fainted.

Because the gorgeous, beautiful, ethereal stranger called him “darling” and Roman’s weak gay heart promptly shut off.

He comes to again, just a few minutes later-- long enough that his head is throbbing and his lungs hurt a bit and mere idea of moving sounds exhausting. He’s comfortable just fine where he is.

On the floor.

With his head in the perfect strangers lap.

“There you are,” The man gives him a nervous smile that makes Roman’s mouth dry out. “Do you remember where you are?”

“Heaven?”

Roman has many regrets in his life. Like that time he thought that crawling down the manhole would be fun. Or the weekend he spent hanging out in the courthouse, which had turned out to be incredibly boring. Or that time he brought dog treats to the dog park and ended up get ambushed by like seven dogs at once and broke his arm.

But this....answering that, and immediately hearing that all too familiar cackle that can only belong to Remus? Yeah Roman rates that at the top of Roman’s Regrets.

The stranger bites his lip but he’s grinning all the same. “Apologies. When you fainted we, called the emergency contact on your phone.”

“Remus is not my emergency contact,” Roman grumbles and weakly shuffles his limbs to sit up.

Remus wheezes, from where he’s situated with an arm over the artist and the acrobat respectively. “Like-- Hell! I changed that months ago!” Remus grins, “I wasn’t gonna miss a chance to laugh at you while you get carted away in an ambulance! You only die once Ro! I wanna be there for it!”

“I should have consumed you in the womb.”

“Butcha didn’t!”

“The intention was there.” Roman sways, and he really doesn’t like the way the floor shifts like waves of an ocean.

“Pussy,” Remus tosses out, just for the sake of having the last word. He pulls his arms back from around the other two and fusses with the little artist’s hair. “Alright, brats! That’s my cue to drag my dumbass gay twin away before he faints again. But this was fun! Lets do it again! This time Dee can even let Roman actually fall and crack his head on the floor instead of catching him!”

Roman’s ears burn, and he peeks at Dee with a morbid mortification, “You caught me?”

“Well I was already, holding you up so it wasn’t as much as caught you as you...ah,” there’s a twitch of his lips, “as you fell for me.”

The noise Roman makes is not in any way, shape, or form flattering.

Remus cackles again.

There’s a click and a giggle, “Sorry kiddo! That was just too good to pass up!” The artist bounces slightly. “You both should definitely come back though! We’d love to have the company!”

“No, we wouldn’t,” the acrobat interjects, and lets out a heavy breath when he’s elbowed by his friend.

“Yes, we would!” The artist says. “And next time you can even have some of Dee’s pastries!”

“That’s not necessary,” The stranger says quickly, “They aren’t that good--”

“Will you stop lying!” the acrobat says, “You literally got into this prestigious ass school for your pastries, dumbass. They’re good. Accept it already! Geez!”

The stranger rubs his neck and then his cheek, before turning back to Roman. “Perhaps you can be the judge of that then? Darling?”

Yeah, Roman’s knees are weak again, but he’s stubborn enough that he keeps standing. “I think I’d like that. Although, I can’t say I’m any kind of pastry expert.”

“We all have our faults, I presume.”

Roman’s heart beats a little faster. “And admittedly I will be a little bit bias.”

“A little bit?”

“Only a smidge,” Roman reports, “I’ve heard that good company can affect the taste of food.”

“You intend to be in good company?”

“If it’s yours I’m sure it will be.”

“Who knew there was a smooth talker under that blush of yours?”

“If you think this was smooth you should see--

Remus claps his hands loudly enough to make the acrobat flinch and Logan in the corner curse in Korean. “Okay yes we get it: You both are gayyyyyy!” Remus exclaims, drawing it out just enough that Roman feels a bit of the Cain Instinct(tm) in him rise up. “But if neither of you are going to start undressing to give the rest of us a show, then we need to go!”

“Remus!”

“I’m just saying!” Remus shrugs and then hooks an arm around Roman’s neck and pulls him towards the door, “Its not fair to the rest of us, if you keep being a tease!”

“I hope you step on a lego and fall into a pit of sharks.”

Remus messes with his hair, which seems to be his thing right now.

The others in the room call out their goodbyes, and Remus drags Roman away before he can get more than a sloppy wave. Its still embarrassing.

Actually everything that happened was embarrassing, from top to bottom, and there was absolutely no moment were it wasn’t completely mortifying. Not only did he choke on a piece of cake he didn’t even get to taste, but he gay panicked, and then gay fainted, and every second of it was recorded via camera snapshots. And late at night, when Roman is turning it over in his head and screaming into a pillow, he barely notices his phone flashing.

He’s already miserable, because they probably just invited him back to be nice, and he didn’t even know their names. And Remus was still laughing at him for everything, and everything just really sucked. He opens up his phone to check the message, ignoring the way the his screen burns his eyes.

There’s a text message.

An actual text message.

Stole your number hope you dont mind

Roman can’t breath. The phone in his hand vibrates again.

Oh and your heart. I stole that too. this is a ransom demand.

$40,000 in cash. Or a date to the coffee shop in town.

pls?

this is Dee Ekans btw

The baker?

oh fuck pls tell me this is the right number

roman?

And Roman rolls over and presses his face into a pillow and screams.

But really the point of all this is that Roman got the number of the cute guy. And maybe a date.

#roceit #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #Boarding School Au?#I guess it is #Look I just started writing and went with it #gay panic #gay fainting #there is nothing more gay than Roman

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emarislaughsmaniacally · 4 years ago

Text

Finders Keepers

Warning for blood, gore, dismemberment, references to torture, electrocution, disassociation, and murder.

Helmet tilts his head and stands very still, observing him from a reasonably safe distance away. Derek ignores him and stays sitting on the floor, back pressed tight to the wall as his ribs slowly start to shift and snap.

The most unpleasant part of healing misplaced bones is definitely how his skin rolls and shifts with them.

Plus the pain.

Yeah, that's crap too.

"You gonna be alright?" The voice is mechanical enough that he's tempted to sniff the air again but his eyes catch on the puddle Derek's sitting in.

It's admittedly a lot of blood so he just jerks his head in a sharp nod, barely feeling the fresh gush of blood from his chopped up larynx.

"You got anyone you can call? Friends? Work?"

Derek shakes his head.

“Want me to call the cops?”

He gurgles angrily and shakes his head hard enough to spit up more blood.

“Right.” Helmet relaxes, shifts his torso like he's stretching and then starts checking the bodies scattered about the dingy apartment.

Derek flexes his jaw, eyes glued to where Helmet is systematically rifling through wallets, taking photos of everything inside and pressing phones to a thick tablet-looking thing. It's fast and efficient as hell.

His jaw creaks when it fuses in place, face no longer looking like a dented can. Nerves along the cheekbone start reminding him to press the hanging flap of skin back up to knit together faster.

Finished with the bodies and quickly sticking a few more holes into someone playing possum, Helmet straightens and stares at him again.

He absently thinks it would be unsettling if he bothered to give a shit anymore.

"Change before you leave, you look like a murder victim."

Derek's eyebrows climb up as he pointedly sweeps a glare over the destruction.

"Huh. Yeah okay, maybe don't take clothes from an actual murder victim." The man makes a buzzing noise that Derek interprets as a hum and then there's a sudden crackle of victory.

"This jacket's good, yeah? Uh. Yeah, just snapped his neck. Hope it's dark enough outside no one'll notice your pants." Helmet says conversationally as he strips it off the guy and stuffs an enormous wad of stolen cash into the pockets.

This is probably one of the best rescues Derek's ever had and not just because of the considerate donation of money. Hemet waves, presents the jacket and drapes it near the door, not even trying to approach him. Minutes later, there's a collection of household cleaners that Helmet is liberally mixing and splashing around, concentrating on areas where Derek's been. It's reassuring that the guy doesn't gas them out with the chemicals.

It's all so professional and solicitous that Derek lets himself relax a bit, focuses on his repairing body to make sure it heals properly.

Then again, -he flexes freshly grown fingers- he's got to find the box.

He tries to be discreet, surreptitiously eyeing the chaos for it before he gives up. Helmet probably wouldn't want to leave the box behind either.

Derek makes to speak but the sound is harsh, choked and painful, gristle barely stitched together.

Helmet pauses where he's kicking liquid over cracked linoleum. "Christ, you're a regular Judy Garland."

"Box." Derek shakily mimes out the size of it and swallows down a clump of blood. "Can't leave it."

"Ooh, a box." Helmet shifts debris about, eventually digs out a duffel and crams three laptops inside. "Missing anything else?"

Derek checks to find his wallet is still there before he remembers what happened to his phone and keys.

"Sewer."

"Shitty." There's a loud buzz like maybe he coughed or snorted. “What’d you do to get them this pissed?”

He points to his healing face. “Existed.”

"Riiight. This Wolverine shit is kinda creepy.” His speaker crackles a little more, like it’s having a hard time picking up his voice. “You got anyone who can pick you up?"

Derek closes his eyes at a tangle of crushing emotions and shakes his head.

"Okay." The man's body language seems less aggressive, a little more careful to move. "You got anyone who's lookin for you? Anywhere you can go?"

Derek opens his eyes and stares at his dirty feet and clean toes, thinking about the little town in California and the arguments before he left.

"Not anymore."

Helmet sighs expansively as he wanders deeper into the apartment. "Right. I'll find a place. Just, ah, keep on with that healing thing. You're doin great."

The man is still searching for the box when Derek's spine pops back into place. He can't stop a yelp from the shock of it or the agonized groan when the nerves to his legs link up.

He almost forgot they drilled screws into that bone.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit

He pushes against the wall like it's the only thing holding him together, blinding pain burning through like acid until his nerves finish healing.

"Hey." His rescuer is suddenly there and looms a little closer than before. "You gonna be alright?”

Derek takes a ragged breath, eyes him warily, and… decides getting the metal out with help is more productive than not.

He tilts his leg a little to let the heads of the screws in a neat row down his shin catch the light against the dark of his jeans.

"Gotta get ‘em out."

The helmet is silent but Derek can still hear the faintest murmur inside. "Jumpin Jehoshaphat…"

Derek silently agrees and motions to the duffel bag now resting by the door.

"The drill there?"

Hemet's hands start clenching and relaxing at his sides, mechanical voice buzzing with a jerky negative exhale.

"I'll find it too." His fists shake. "We'll have to take em out somewhere else though."

There's a protest building in his chest but it slowly dies, pressed down by the pains in his body as the smaller hurts start closing up.

Derek grunts in acceptance, the bone would be weak and take a little longer to fill in anyway.

They're silent for a moment before the man starts his search again.

"So. What's in the box?" He probably means to distract him with a chat but the box is…

Derek looks at his hand and the clean pink skin on the new growths.

The room wobbles a bit.

"Me."

A stretch of silence.

"Well, okay then." The man flicks a switch on the helmet and Derek realizes the microphone is shut off, which would only make sense if the guy didn't know about Derek’s enhanced senses. He hardly has to strain to hear that there's a series of clicks before another mechanized voice rasps out a greeting.

"O, imma need a room. I've got a witness I need to stick to and I don't wanna spook him." The man's actual voice is raspy, almost gruff, and seems surprisingly young. “So I’d appreciate it if everyone would leave me the hell alone for a while.”

Whatever the response is, the mechanical tone is so strange Derek can't understand it so he just sags against the wall and rests.

Helmet guy is going to let him stick around and he's warning others away.

That's pretty great.

A small part of himself is soothed, comforted even, that this man who ripped through eight men like wet paper, has taken an interest in Derek’s wellbeing.

He slips down the wall a little and just… zones out for a while.

The big hurts have righted themselves so there's just a mild ache in a few spots. If he weren't so tired, Derek would be standing, anxious to leave, but Helmet doesn't seem rushed in the least and that confidence bleeds into him too.

He’s still worried though. "Cops don't investigate shootouts around here?"

"Wow, that's an entire sentence. You must be feeling better." Helmet is somewhere in one of the bedrooms still tossing things around. "People would have to call the cops first but, this is Crime Alley so, you know, they don't."

He feels a burble of puzzlement rise through the haze of fading pain.

"I've never heard of Crime Alley in New York." That's a ridiculous name for a place, but New York was filled with them.

"Yeah? Well, that's because you're in New Jersey. Welcome to Gotham, man.” More creepy laughter. “I'd say this is an unusual way to end up here but I'd be lying. You're lucky they came into my turf, anywhere else in the city and no one might've noticed."

"Your turf?” Derek echoes the term curiously. It gives the impression of a gangster or the mob. It seems reasonable because the guy has pistols strapped to his legs and another pair under his jacket. Also the professionalism reinforces the theory.

There's a pause in the sounds then a heavy scrape over carpet.

"It's just a little slice of this shit hole, but it's mine." There's more rustling, then a familiar clatter, like beads.

Derek registers the sound and waits. Hears the scrape of the lid.

"You." More sounds, louder and faster than before. "Hoo boy, can you take some damage."

Derek doesn't respond until Helmet stomps back into the kitchen, stained orange shoe box tucked under one arm, drill clenched in the other.

"Still hurts."

"I bet it does." He shakes the box enough to rattle. "There's more teeth in here than can fit in one mouth."

The atmosphere is tense now and Derek wishes the room didn't smell like death so he could better gauge Hemet's mood.

“I’ve been here a few days.” He shrugs minutely. “Electricity doesn’t really stop the healing, just makes it really slow.”

“So all of this... is from you.”

"Probably." He says, hoping that's the end of it, doesn’t feel like he’s calm enough to talk about the various bits of him in the box.

The man taps with the drill, a muffled beat against his leg like he's thinking it over.

“Police won’t like any of this.”

Derek shakes his head.

“You don’t have a place to crash here.”

Another shake.

“You got money though. You could get a hotel room, get a ticket out tomorrow.”

Derek lowers his eyes to Helmet’s shoes.

“I can do that.” He agrees quietly.

“You don’t want to though. Why?”

He lets his eyes flick back to the batteries. “Doesn’t matter where I go. They always find me.” He stares at a red terminal, almost feeling the current again. “Them or something like them.”

"Right. You're staying with me until you got somewhere to go and we know these fucks won’t come for you again. In the meantime, I need to replace my accountant. Thanks for volunteering."

"Am I being kidnapped again?" It comes out sardonically enough that the guy laughs.

“This sort of thing happen a…” Derek’s already nodding in response. Looks over at the car batteries before his eyes skitter away.

"Okay. Sure. No one lookin out for you means you're mine for now." He pauses at Derek's shudder. "Just for now, understand?” He waits for Derek to nod before he goes on. “My territory reaches down to the docks North East of here. Don't go outside of it. Anyone gives you shit, tell ‘em Red Hood's watching you. Not watching out, just ‘watching’. You see any more’a this crew and you let me know, they ain’t leaving this city with a heartbeat.”

Derek barely stops himself from looking away, from tilting his head to expose his throat.

He nods instead. A little more secure that this beast of a human has offered protection.

"Do I call you Boss now?" He means it as a joke but says it quieter than intended.

"You workin for me? Got a head for numbers?"

Derek nods again. “Bachelor’s degree says so.” Even the mob appreciates degrees, right?

"Oh yeah? Bonus. Then sure. Now get the jacket and find some shoes. We gotta go, someone's gonna come looking for these guys eventually." Red Hood snags a few more bags and goes to drop them at the door.

It takes him a minute to get his bearings, he’s pretty sure he’s got some sort of repressed emotional response that Derek’s just gonna… yeah, he’s just going to leave it alone and maybe never think about it again.

The puddle he’s sitting in is dark and tacky enough now that he isn’t afraid of slipping but it’s still unpleasantly damp along his back and the seat of his pants. Makes a sticky slurp as he stands and he tunes his hearing to Red Hood’s heartbeat instead.

“Ready?” The speaker suddenly sounds like the intro to some techno song and he inanely wonders if the guy sings in the helmet. Derek smiles a bit at the thought because the guy is taller than he expected and stacked like a tank. He probably would sing.

“Yeah. Found my own boots too.” He says for absolutely no reason. It feels momentous though that he didn’t lose all of his belongings.

“That’s great man. Never know what kinda fungus strangers got.” Red Hood hefts a few bags and hands over another. “I’m gonna drop you off first and bring back some Chinese. You like egg rolls?”

Derek gives another barely-there smile and very firmly doesn’t think of his blood soaked clothes or who’s got the bag with the box.

He wonders instead if Red Hood will judge him for the mountain of food he’s about to order.

#derek hale #red hood #Jason Todd #teen wolf #whump

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gukptune · 5 years ago

Text

— CAUGHT IN A WEB (m.) art by: gukptune’s pyjamas

Pairing: jungkook x reader Genre: spider-kook, spider-man!jungkook, marvel!au, fluff, smut Warnings: explicit language, mild depictions of violence, crime, flirting, insinuated sex, touchy touchy, making out, etc. more smut in later parts!

— Summary: New York’s resident web-slinger finds himself wrapped in his own webs by the hands of a cunning black cat.

Words: 5.8k Note: Thank you to my loveliest beta for this series! @nomimits7

Neon lights, brick walls and shit stinking sewers. He sat atop a vacant roof looking over the streets of Chinatown. No one seemed to sleep around here, not even the sewer rats. The spandex dawned superhero munched on his fresh hot pizza, taking a break from his usual scouting.

The brown eyed man nearly chokes on his pepperoni slice seeing a shady man trailing a young woman into an alley. Typical mobbing, but it could lead to something worse.

Pulling down his web patterned mask, cover his chin, he tosses the now empty pizza box down the street. Shooting it with his web, directing the box right into a trash bin.

He runs across the roofs right atop the alleyway. Dropping himself quietly onto the fire escape stairs, waiting for the right moment.

The shady man marches his way into the alley, stopping in his tracks when he realises, he wasn’t alone. He frantically looks around for the woman he was following. The web-slinger watches as the woman seemingly pops out of nowhere, kicking the man down with one blow. His head making a bone-breaking noise as it connects with the red brick wall. He immediately collapsed into a lifeless pile of bone and meat.

The woman takes a deep breath, sighing loudly. Immediately she began digging into his pockets.

The spider looks on with confusion, was she the one robbing him?

Shit, he jumps off the rails with the tiniest of sound. Landing on his feet against the wet alley, he sees the woman still crouched over the man. With his spidey-senses he could hear the tapping of her fingernails against the glass screen echoing.

He rolls his head and shoulders, puffing his chest out. He asks carefully, “Need some help?”

The woman suddenly turns towards him. Looking him up and down, causing him to feel small. Your eyes burning a hole in him before you shake your head, seemingly unfazed by the overgrown Apider, “Nope, not really.”

He looks on at you, again confused. Did you not know who he was, maybe you were a tourist?

He approach you with caution, still unsure of your position in this situation. He glance over your shoulder to a blinking screen rolling with green codes. The unconscious man’s phone attached to your laptop with a cable of sorts.

You were hacking his phone.

“Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?” He asks, trying his best to seem authoritative and failing miserably it seems.

You don’t seem to care, not bothering to look back at him, “I mind, get going Spider-Man.”

You did know who he was, yet you weren’t cooperating. He knew he had haters, J. Jonah Jameson being a huge collaborator in that ring. Yet, he at least hoped he had some sense of justice allowing any good citizen to work with him.

Indeed, your lack of cooperation made you seem in the wrong.

“Were you in trouble?”

You sigh, “No.”

He furrows his brow behind the mask, side stepping around you. Finally facing your front on he takes a good look at you, maybe he could at least be able to recognise you, if you indeed were a criminal later in his database.

Long brown-haired woman, seemingly in your early twenties or even late teens. You whipped your eyes towards him once during this conversation, your eyes glowing light blue. You cocked your head, as if you were challenging him.

He was growing impatient at this point, “Just tell me, did you steal his phone. You’re hacking it, now aren’t you?”

You click her tongue, “It’s not stealing if it was already mine. The data, not the phone that is.” You stated matter of factly.

You sounded like you were speaking in code, like you didn’t want to say what you were actually doing.

“It’s still stealing.”

You tap away a couple more times before pushing the screen of your laptop down, “Oh shut up, so Spider-Man leaving his webs all over New York isn’t vandalism? You do realise that your shit only comes off with special, web cleaners right...those big skyscrapers you love swinging from, takes them months to get your spider-crap off.”

He was offended, spider-crap, they were not spider-crap they were so much more than that. He couldn’t express that though, that he was offended, hurt even. That a simple girl got the better of Spider-Man, maybe you got the better of him but not Spider-Man.

You only stared at him, watching him have an inner conflict. His camera lens like eyes squinting around. You rolled your eyes, completely done with this situation. Trying to leave quietly it seemed that his spidey-sense were rather, good.

“Woah! No, I need to know what you’re doing,” He stops you in your tracks. Trying to swipe at the phone in your his right hand. You pull away with a frown.

Stepping away from the Spider, “Now that’s stealing, Spider-Man is stealing? Such irony.”

He seemed really annoyed now, crossing his arms. Those athletic biceps flexing through his spandex.

You quickly toss the phone against the wall beside the now, snoring man. The glass shattering before it drops on the ground beside the man. Spider-Man looks over at the phone, now completely busted.

You take this moment to bolt.

“Hey! Stop! You can’t just run away!”

You can hear his footsteps chasing you before it completely stops, hearing only whooshes and squirts. Well, he was going to catch up really quick, but you had a backup plan of course.

After a few moments of the chase you had sight of exactly what you wanted, the dark metallic vehicle ahead with tinted windows. You stopped in your tracks right in front of it.

Hearing the Spider drop right behind you, his hand nearing your shoulder. You took this chance to play with his sense of justice—jumping behind him.

Pushing against his shoulder blades, peeking over his broad shoulders.

“What are you—”

“Ah, here you are. Give me the drive, Y/n.”

Spider-Man seemed to understand your actions now. Looking right at the thugs ahead. You hid behind him, like the poor helpless girl you were pretending to be. His hand coming right to your side, pushing you further behind him.

You swallowed, slightly nervous. Feeling his webbed gloved hand holding onto your arm, keeping you behind him lessened it.

“Who are you?” Spider-Man asked the man ahead.

The sunglass dawning brute laughs, cracking his knuckles. “This ain’t about ‘ya Spider-Man. Just me and the girl.”

“That doesn’t sound very good,” He counters.

He turns his head, hoping to hear your explanation.

“They want the drive I’ve got,” You stated the obvious.

Spider-Man sighs, “I know that, what else.”

The brute didn’t seem to want to play, tapping his feet impatiently but not daring to step closer.

You bite your tongue, “It’s just got info about their shady business, okay.”

Guessing that was enough, Spider-Man picked a side.

“You better leave, dude, she’s just a kid.”

The brute laughs even louder. He waves his fist, more men coming out of the vehicle behind him. Things just got intense. Spider-Man stood his ground, moving back, pushing you further and further away.

“A kid? She—a fuckin’ kid, oh Spider-Man you don’t even know. She’s—”

A brick collides with the man’s face, probably breaking his jaw in the process. The brute curses and his men attack. Spider-Man shoves you away, right behind a stinky back alley bin.

You hide, leaning out to watch the action. You weren’t going to miss this.

He takes the men skill-fully, and non-lethal. A few kicks, punches, squirts of his web into their faces and fists. None of them being able to land a single hit on the hero.

With them all bound by untearable web, he marches towards the brute holding onto his jaw. The larger man spits blood on the ground, pointing at you.

“That bitch, you’re on the wrong side Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man shakes his head, “She’s not the one with a gun in her hands.”

The brute’s eyes widened, before he snarls. Before he could even shoot, the gun in his hand slams against the wall, sealed within webs.

“She’s a fucking rat, you ain’t smart spider. She’s done so much bad you won’t even understand—”

Spider-Man cocks his head, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

You couldn’t help but feel impressed. He really had a way with words, his confidence, his aura. Shit, it was kind of hot. He was also standing up for you, he didn’t even know you.

With that Spider-Man knocks the man out before his fists even reached a close proximity. He cracks his back, pleased with his execution. Turning back to see if you were okay, he finds nothing.

He races towards the spot, nothing. He sighs, springing up the roof to look around the streets. You disappeared into thin air, without a word. Without a thank you.

All he got was a name, a name he’d spend the entire night ripping his database apart for, he was in deep shit.

A week had passed and nothing, he’s got nothing. There was no news of those guys either. They all just, disappeared.

He wandered around the office at F.E.A.S.T. with his head on backwards, of course until Aunt May had something to say.

“Jungkook, you need to take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.” She sat him down on her office couch, face to face.

Jungkook sighed, “Some girl trouble, it’s no big deal May.”

“Is it MJ? How has she been? I haven’t heard from her in—”

“It’s not MJ. It’s... I don’t even know her, I—it’s hard to explain,” Jungkook sighs, burying his face in his hands in frustration.

May rubs his back comfortingly, “It better not be a one-time thing, Kook, I swear—”

“It’s not!” Jungkook exclaimed, his face beet red, “I don’t do that stuff! I don’t even know her name, I just met her during my Spider-Man night patrols.”

“Oh, you met her, in your suit?” May’s eyes wideneg. This hasn’t happened before.

Jungkook gives her a shy smile, “Yea...she was very different and interesting. All I got is a name and just the first for that matter. I can’t find anything on the girl and—”

“Woah, you couldn’t ‘find’ anything. You were searching for her? Kook, you’re not stalking her right?”

“No! I just heard that she’s in trouble and I don’t want anything to happen to her but she’s like a ghost. Aunt May! I would never—”

“I know, I know. I was joking,” She smiled. He was extremely flustered, and she knew more than he’d let on.

“But are you sure you’re only looking for her because you’re ‘worried’ or...” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Jungkook groans, “Aunt May, please!”

She continued to tease him, on and on. Until she had to leave to help her employees at work and Jungkook had to get home.

On his way home, Jungkook had come across a new thing. An exhibition, New York Academy of Art’s student exhibition. Jungkook loved art, mainly admiring it. Luckily he had his camera with him, maybe he could get a few photos.

He walks in to be greeted by a very excited student, “Oh my god! Someone’s actually here! Hello! Welcome to our finals exhibition, here’s a ticket—you should be able to see everyone’s art maybe see some artists!”

She shoves the ticket in his hand, he nods thanking her. She pushes him into the first room and leaves, without even introducing herself.

Jungkook eases his way in, not completely sure where to go or anything at all. There were really no signs, arrows, or people around. Strange.

He takes his time admiring the work of the art students, he sometimes wishes he’d be that talented. Snapping a few photos on the way around, he stops at one artist’s work that truly catches his eye.

Snapping a quick photo, he begins to read the information next to the painting. Signifying its artist, media and meaning.

He hears a snicker behind him, whipping around as normally as he could without activating his sense.

In front of him, was a familiar face. It was the girl he met last week. It had to be, same hair, same face, apart from the eyes. They were green this time.

You stared at the boy, holding a camera in front of you. His face twisting, thinking hard. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhm, I’m sorry?” His voice rang in your ear.

You look around, wondering if anyone else was here too, “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you in my class before and the pre-show hasn’t opened yet.”

His face turns red, he starts stuttering, “Well―I, I was told to―to, uh.”

He directs your sight towards the ticket in his hand, you sigh, “Oh, I’m guessing the overly enthusiastic girl out front gave you this.”

You point at the ticket in his hand, right at the opening time, “Six pm. Sorry to say, it’s four right now.”

“That’s, that’s okay. I can leave.”

You suddenly felt bad, the boy was already here, he was also pretty cute. There was no harm in him staying right.

“It’s okay, you don’t seem like trouble.”

He smiles thankfully, out stretching his hand, “I’m Jungkook.”

“I’m Y/n.”

His eyes widened suddenly. You were confused but he responds before you could ask.

He flutters, waving his hand around, “You’re Y/n? The―uh―the artist! You painted this?”

Jungkook faces the painting, pointing at it.

“I’m grateful that you admire my work, have you seen my stuff before?”

Jungkook turns back at you with a smile, “Yea! I have.”

“Can I ask where? Was it the convention last year because I made such shitty art back then?”

Jungkook laughs, a little too loud and enthusiastically. Maybe he was nervous, “Yea! Don’t be so hard on yourself, it was amazing.”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Yea…”

You watch him continue to look around, trailing around him, “Can I ask where you study?”

“Oh! I graduated two years ago. I went to Empire State University.”

“Wow! So, you’ve got a degree?”

“Yea, Bachelor of Science in Biophysics, it doesn’t sound very cool,” He mumbles shyly.

You tap his shoulder playfully, “Hey, it sounds awesome. All I might get is ‘artist’.”

Jungkook smiles, enjoying the little banter between you two. He looks over to you, motioning for you to follow him around.

“You must be smart, Jungkook.”

“Uh―I wouldn’t say that.”

You chuckle, “You so are! I hope you can tell me all about your studies, seems so different from me… I kind of, like that.”

Your smile captivated him. Allured him. Jungkook felt a sense of relief and comfort. He liked the sound of that, it sounds a whole lot like a beginning of something. So, he took the chance.

“How about a date?”

You tilt your head, surprised that the shy nerdy boy managed to ask you that, “A date?”

“Yea.”

You hummed, pretending to think over it dramatically, “Well, you see I’m, I don’t know. I’m quite busy these days and the exhibition and―”

“Come on, stop it,” He chuckles, a very familiar chuckle, yet you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Okay, okay. A date sounds great, you’re planning it though! I have zero time to plan, it’s also not my thing.”

“Lucky for you, planning is just my thing.”

“So, you’re saying that you went on a date with a girl who you think might be a criminal?”

“Yes.”

Taehyung shrugs, munching on some fries, “And what’s the problem again?”

“It was a great date! And now I’m too scared to keep digging, what if I find out she’s with the mob or something,” Jungkook cries, resting his forehead against his palms. Leaving his burger and fries to go stale.

“Again, what’s the problem?”

Jungkook only groans. Of course, Taehyung wouldn’t see a problem with this. Why did Jungkook even worry. He’s Spider-Man, he’s dealt with worse.

Taehyung suddenly snaps his fingers, grinning ear to ear, “I know the problem. You’re scared that you’re going to be really into her, fall in love and completely forget about MJ.”

“No! That’s not true!” Jungkook shakes his head furiously.

Taehyung laughs, he was always good at figuring him out, “It so is! It isn’t so bad, if you fall for her. At least then you’ll get some. Hasn’t MJ been avoiding you… since the breakup, like it’s very unlikely she’s going to take you back.”

Taehyung was right but Jungkook just wanted to stay in disbelief. He’s finally met something he likes, after months and months of trying his hardest to get MJ back with nothing in return. Maybe it was time that Jungkook stopped trying, now that MJ was really not going to return his love.

“Is she hot?” Taehyung’s voice makes Jungkook blush.

His eyes wide and mouth agape, “I mean―yes, of course. Like way too hot but that’s―”

“Way too hot, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“I really need to see this ‘way too hot’ girl, the only thing you’ve ever said about MJ was―she’s gorgeous, pretty, beautiful but hell, way too hot seems fine~”

“I’m not letting you see her.”

“What? Why?”

“Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head.

Taehyung whines, “Please!”

Jungkook hovers over his phone, waiting for a response.

y/n: shit I need to get to bed now

y/n: gn < 3

y/n: i’ll text tomorrow!!

He smiles, heart soaring with joy, typing out a response before slipping the phone into his spandex pocket. He leans back against the pole, looking over at a friendly face.

“You’re Spider-Man!”

Jungkook, now Spider-Man, rubs his head bashfully, “Yep, that’s me!”

“I love you! Can I get a photo please!”

“Of course.”

The fanboy in his homemade Spider-Man cosplay gets off his seat, snapping a quick photo with him. Spider-Man utters a few words before taking the next stop off, tonight he needed to take a good look at Hell’s kitchen. Some shady stuff has been happening there, kidnapping, burglary, a whole lot.

There wasn’t much he could sense, nor did he catch anything suspicious. He’s right about to drop the entire case and leave for the night, but he feels a strange sensation making his ear twitch.

Looking over to his left he sees a figure, pulling themselves over the construction bars by the pier with ease. Silent and quick, he’s worried it could be something bad.

Pulling himself over with his webs, he manages to land on one of the bars furthest away, to at least account for the situation. He hums, murmuring tactics to himself, watching the feminine figure halt in their path.

The seemingly skintight sporting figure had long flowing white hair. A mask on her face that doesn’t seem to cover much at all. The black full body leotard seemed to be supported by white armour in vital areas.

He’s never seen her before, he’s never even heard of a female vigilante. He’s assuming she was good, she didn’t seem to be causing trouble. Tapping away on her arm, scanning the area.

Spider-Man takes a second to fully understand where he was, Wilson Fisks’ secret cargo hold. It had to be, he knew those men, what they wore and the guns they used.

He was mostly worried for the girl. She shouldn’t be here not knowing her stuff about what Fisk can do.

He leaps towards the girl. When she turns around to meet the flying Spider, he chokes on his breath and nearly slips off the rail.

You furrowed your eyebrow towards the red and blue figure that flew beside you. What was he doing here?

“Are you following me now Spider?” You smirked, hoping your waltz towards him would draw his attention away from the situation before him.

His camera lens eyes, blinking, looking right at your swaying hips, “Of course not. I was in the area and you looked like you were causing trouble, again.”

“Oh, come now Spider, I did not cause you trouble. I had everything under control until you showed up,” You retort, brushing your suit’s nails against his chest. You can see through his skintight suit, as he gulps.

He shakes his head, “You can’t just be here, do you not know who owns this place?”

“I might,” You shrug, “Heard he’s pretty stern but I can be pretty convincing.”

Spider-Man doesn’t seem to like that, he shakes his head again. His hand coming up to his face, holding his head, “Stern, stern isn’t the word for him. He’s―he will hurt you.”

“Aw, thanks for caring about me Spider but I can handle myself.” You turn away from him, ready to leap off the edge of the scaffolding.

Before your feet could leave the ground, you’re pulled back with immense force. Knocking your shoulder against the spandex clad man.

“Stop it. This is the second time we’ve met and you’re running off again?”

You stepped away from him, his gloved hand clasping your elbow tight.

“Does that upset you? That I just disappear? That I run from you, is it because you miss me?” You tease, nudging your elbow into his side he finally let’s go, holding onto the spot with a grunt, “Kinda cute, I missed you too.”

The Spider freezes, his mask emoting his reaction quite well. Unbeknownst to the pair was the fact that another pair of eyes were watching them, from afar but close enough to hear their conversation.

Spider-Man clicks his tongue, pointing at the guards, “They have guns, you should be careful...”

“Cat.”

“Cat?”

You shrug again, rolling your shoulders with a crack, “Yea, Black Cat. That’s my alter-ago apparently.”

He nods, repeating your title in a low murmur, “Black Cat.”

“I’m―”

“Spider-Man, I think everyone knows that.”

He stares back at you, of course you couldn’t read the expression very well. It gave you a sense of mystery. He was so intoxicating it was hard to stop yourself playing with him too much. Yet, you held back, shouldn’t scare him away, should you?

“Guess I’m pretty popular.”

You laugh, “Popular? You’re pretty famous.”

He crosses his arms, letting out the slightest of a chuckle.

You didn’t intend on keeping up this conversation with him, as fun as it was. You had something to do and you had one chance to do it. Maybe with the help of a skilled man, this would be done quickly.

“Could you help me with something?” You asked, pleading him with your eyes.

He stands tall, replying, “Of course.”

“I need to steal a painting.”

“No.”

Maybe you had worded that badly. He shakes his head protrusively, his hands waving around in dismissal. You tried again.

“There’s a fake painting that they’re going to try to auction off tomorrow night. I just want to take it and destroy it,” You explained.

Spider-Man considers this, he actually does for a while. Causing you to tap your feet against the railing impatiently.

“A fake, huh? Seems like something he’d do.”

You nod, “Yes, and knowing him after he sells that piece who knows where the money would be used.”

“Weapons, most likely.”

He seemed to be getting more trusting of you. Nodding his head. He takes a moment to access the area. Crouching down, you follow suit.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

You were more than delighted. He could probably see it in your face, the bright smile you returned to him. He couldn’t return the same, well he did but you couldn’t see that.

You two bolted into action, like a duo you planned it out. He mostly did the planning but that’s besides the point. Making your way around the area, the pair of you managed to non-lethally take down most of the thugs, tying them up on the rails without anyone seeing. He seemed impressed, that you could actually hold your own.

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel this sense of relief. It’s been a while since he had someone that could back him up, make him feel safe like the way he always makes others feel. She was silent, quick and efficient. He shoots the last few webs needed to pull the last thug up and that was that.

You jumped through the air into the building swiftly. Jungkook follows along without falling behind. He watches your swaying hips, saunter towards a sealed door. His eyes never tearing away from the way your long white hair brushes against the apple of your bottom.

He catches himself, when he nearly trips over an electrical wire. Of course, he hears you chortle at him. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed like a teenager who’d just made a fool of himself in front of his crush. He cocks his head, scolding himself.

You made your way in front of the safe room. Fingerprints, of course. You took a look around and saw a very convenient doorknob not far away. Making way towards it you could hear Spider-Man asking what you were doing.

“Well, we need a fingerprint, right?” You pulled out a device, he’d seen a couple of times.

Scanning the doorknob quickly, it saves a fingerprint. You pray it would work, or else you’d have to scan the entire area, even those passed out men outside if needed.

Turning back towards the Spider who stands idle next to the door, tapping into the system you entered the fingerprint and the light flashes green, “Ta-da.”

The Spider seems impressed, nodding his head.

Your eyes dart towards the painting when the door gapes open. You nearly run at it, eyes glimmering with its beauty.

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

Spider-Man takes a look around. You begin to pull the painting off the hooks and cut it out of the frame. Rolling the thing up and placing it in a cylindrical tube placed not far away.

He huffs, “Seems a little too easy.”

“Would you prefer it be harder, Spider?” You jab, finishing up.

His eyes squint, “No, but I just―”

Of course, it wasn’t that fucking easy. You just wanted to hope. The lights started to blink red, you could hear loud stomping getting closer. And then, right within a blink of an eye, what seemed like an army of armed men enter the safe room with guns in hand.

You panic, trying to step back, hearing the guns fire.

Instead of searing hot pain, you felt a gush of wind. A hand on your waist holding you tight against a hot body. You were outside? How did you―?

You sighed with relief. Spider-Man saves the day of course. He swings you out of the pier onto a vacant building. Letting you drop on your feet softly, he moves away.

You pat around yourself to check for any wounds, none. The painting was intact, and nothing was wrong, right?

You turned to thank the Spider to see him hunched over, grasping his gut. His bleeding gut. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, “Spider! Shit, are―are you okay?”

“Yes, but no, dam this hurts.”

You thought about the choices you could make, leave him to die or take him home, to your home where he’d know exactly who you were―the latter was your only decision, without a second thought. You felt a gut-wrenching pain shoot through you, it was your fault. You hold onto him, allowing him to rest on you.

He’d passed out the moment you’d enter through the window. You had managed to rip the damn suit off him, thankfully he had underwear on because that would’ve made the whole ordeal a little more awkward.

His extremely chiseled abdomen eying you the entire time you took the bullet out, thankfully he had minor incisions. His suit took most of the impact but heck, you still stitched him up (,just) in case.

He laid peacefully on your dim light living room couch, his mask still on his face. It felt wrong to just steal a glance at the true face of Spider-Man, it would be so much more rewarding or rather when he’d show you himself.

Though you kept a close eye on him, you know, to see if he’s still breathing through the spandex covering his nose and lips. Since the thing was so tight, could he even breath properly? You made some dinner, making sure to have extra for when he wakes. You were munching on some snacks and watching television when his legs started brushing against your own.

Until, his leg starts brushing against your own. Turning over to your right you could see him start to waver, words spluttering past his lips.

“Uh, my head hurts,” He mumbles. Proceeding to panic when he gets a look at you, his hands fumbling onto his face, feeling that the mask was still on he sighs with relief.

“Did you―”

“I’m not that kind of person,” You cut him off.

Spider-Man shakes his head, “I know, I was going to ask if you stitched me up.” He feels at the bandages wrapped around his waist.

You felt thankful, that he doesn’t see you as bad anymore. Sounds like he even trusts you.

“I did...I apologize in advance if the stitches are a little off. I’m not a doctor but I tried.” You bite your bottom lip.

He nods, “Thank you.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the slightly bit of awkward tension now that you didn’t know what to say. You took a glance at the kitchen table, remembering that you had something for him.

“Are you hungry? I have pasta.”

Spider-Man’s eyes widens, he nods like an excited kid, “Yes! I’m starving.”

He inhales the damn bowl of carbs like it was nothing. His mask half up, you at least get to see a little bit of his face. He had a rather thin top lip and plump bottom ones, sharp jaw and slight dent of his cheeks, he must be extremely good looking to be making you feel this way from just a teeny peek.

Of course, you’ve seen him nearly naked. He’s covered up now, in a large tee shirt you had and sweatpants the fit tight on his thick thighs. Spider-Man had a banging body, not that everyone didn’t know that. He showcased that hard-earned body with his spandex suit everyday, but it was different to see the skin underneath.

“Have you eaten?” He speaks. You furrow your eyebrow at him with confusion. “You’re watching me eat, in a weird way.”

He must’ve caught you staring at him, his face, his lips. You wave your hands, “I ate. I’m just daydreaming.”

The bottom half of his face breaks out into a chuckle, his lips stretching into an attractive, pretty smile. The curve of his lips frames his teeth so well, it was probably the most beautiful smile you’ve every laid eyes on, yet it was so familiar.

“You’re staring again.”

“Can’t I stare at an attractive boy?”

He chokes on his drink, wiping his lips with the end of the tee shirt, “Wh―what, you don’t even know what I look like.”

“Looks aren’t the only thing that makes one attractive,” You tease, “Besides, I’ve seen everything apart from the top half of your face and what’s inside your boxers. I’d say I know 75% of what you look like, Spider-Man.”

The Spider doesn’t seem to know what to say, he only looks between the two of you. Across the table from each other, rather far away.

“You’re straightforward, I like that.” He chuckles.

You reply, “Does that mean I get a reward?” Your voice, cutting through him.

He gulps, “What reward do you want?”

You hum, biting the inside of your lip as you though. Eyes burning into him, you can see him tense up with suspense.

“Maybe a kiss?”

“A―a ki―kiss?”

You sigh, “Just a suggestion, I don’t mean it literally Spider-Man.”

You didn’t expect the hero many loves so much to be so, boyish and shy when it comes down to it. It was rather cute and unexpected, kind of feeding into your ego knowing you had this effect on the Spider-Man.

You begin to get off you seat, only to have the half-masked man follow you right along back towards the living room. You turn back to him with a crooked eyebrow.

He pulls at his fingers nervously, “I wouldn’t be opposed to that idea.”

“Could you speak in a way I’d understand, please?”

“I wouldn’t mind kissing you,” He states.

Your eyebrow twitches, you cock you head with a smirk at him, “Really?”

He said that, he said just one kiss but hell it wasn’t just one kiss. Spider-Man’s hot burning lips against your own was unimaginable. When it happened your mind blanks, only to return when his hand brushes against the side of your hips. Holding onto you, pulling your hips into his own.

With a moan leaving your lips, he takes the opportunity to slip his heat dripping tongue into you. Roping your tongue with his.

He sucks you back into him, your body rocking around against his with moans just exchanging between you two. His hands had a mind of their own, hoisting your ass into him. Locking your legs around his waist, his very large, very obvious bulge just kneading your core.

You could feel his mask brushing against your face. Pulled up over his nose, he pushes it against your face wanting to feel you closer and closer.

“Spider―this isn’t one kiss,” You groan, feeling his lips trail down over your neck.

Spider-Man breathes air against the throbbing spot on your neck purposely, “I know, I’m sorry―I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay,” You place your fingers into the peeking hair on the back of his head under his mask, “We could keep going if you want…”

“I can’t...I can’t show you―”

“Keep the mask on then,” You suggest.

His lip twitches, maybe he liked the sound of that. A little too much.

Jungkook never thought about that. How he could just keep the thing on, he felt this strange way. Knowing that you didn’t know what he looked like yet, you were so willing.

He couldn’t help but feel like he was lying to you, lying about himself. You knew him, he knew you but not right here. He knew you were Black Cat, the day art student and night time vigilante. You only knew Jeon Jungkook, the photographer who you went on one date with and haven’t kissed yet. And Spider-Man, a crime fighting hero. They were two different people for you.

Maybe he felt like he was getting cheated on. As if you were about to sleep with someone else, knowing that you were still talking to him. He had a stressful time trying to juggle you in his hands and the idea that he felt awful that you were practically cheating on him...with himself.

You idiot, Jungkook.

(btws I don’t own Spider-Man, I just own the plot idea-OC and etc. It’s a fic, just putting this here so people know not to mess with it, steal it and whatnot.)

Tagged Readers: @sinnehe @nomimits7 @mrsjiminsjams13 @jiminblushed @kimchii7 @jables249 @brownies214 @starry-sky-1 @alinegrzeszuk @apurpledheart @zephryne @gliterrywren @ficrecreationrooms @actuallyada @masterpiecejoonie @itsmehoseok @vincent-stargogh @yoonkkgi @bts-trash24 @classickei

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911draincleaningtx · 4 years ago

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famousfestninja · 3 months ago

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prism214 · 2 years ago

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Drainage Cleaning Services in Bangalore

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janaikam · 5 years ago

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I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Style Swap

Day 3 of @luxyweek

Part 2

Read on AO3

The akuma attack didn’t take that long. XY had watched the entire fight on the Ladyblog on his phone as he tried to make his way through the sewers. He was glad that his phone survived the fall into the sewers.

It seemed that after Chat had tricked XY down the sewers, him and Luka blocked the hole XY had fallen down. He was now trying to find a way out, so he could tell them how cash money they were not being.

The heroes had brought in Viperion, and he was being pretty useless. All he had been doing was watching the battle from the sidelines, occasionally yelling something at Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Whatever his superpower was it was pretty useless. Nonetheless the battle ended in about 5 minutes without Viperion’s help.

Luckily, the battle ended right as XY found another ladder, so he climbed out of the sewer as fast as he could and started running down the street.

If he hurried then, he could catch Chat and give him a piece of his mind.

Glancing down at the live feed on the Ladyblog, XY saw that the heroes were near the Trocadero, so he picked up his pace.

Thankfully, the sewer he had climbed out from was close to the Trocadero, but when he got there, a flock of reporters surrounded the heroes.

Not wanting to risk reporters seeing him in his messy state, XY kept a good distance away from the growing crowd. He figured he might have a better chance at catching Chat Noir and confronting him when he was alone.

His plan sounded so perfect that he couldn’t help but give himself a pat on the back. It wasn’t everyday he created an amazing plan.

He didn’t have to wait long as Ladybug whispered something to Chat Noir and flew off. Viperion jumped away in the opposite direction and Chat Noir followed, after waving goodbye to the reporters.

XY followed him, sticking to the shadows of buildings so he wasn’t recognized by any of his fans. He soon realized that Chat Noir was headed towards the park, which was perfect for XY since he needed to get back there to confront Luka.

Chat dropped down in an alley about two blocks from the park. XY ran a bit faster before he used his portal magic to disappear.

When XY got to the alley Chat had dropped in, he noticed that Luka was also in the alley.

They looked like they were talking about something, but stopped once XY entered the alley. Everyone’s eyes were wide as the three of them stared at each other. No one uttered a word as a beeping sound cut through the silence. Chat glanced down at his hand and let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you are both safe! Try not to become an akuma’s target next time guys!” With that, Chat jumped out of the alley, much to XY’s anger.

“HEY!!!” XY yelled, running to try and stop Chat, but the hero was much faster than him, bounding out of the alley lightning fast.

The only person left in the alley was Luka, who was trying to sneak out the alleyway.

“Don’t you dare! Someone has to do my dry cleaning! And you helped Chat Noir lure me down into that sewer, so that means you have to do my laundry,” XY declared, crossing his arms.

The blue-haired boy groaned, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this situation easily. “Alright, just let me make a few calls. And we can go do your laundry.”

It turned out that the concert in the park had been canceled and rescheduled due to the akuma attack. At least that’s what Luka had claimed. His band members were going to pack up the rest of their equipment while Luka was helping XY.

XY didn’t miss the obvious distaste in Luka’s tone, but he shrugged it off, figuring that he was just upset because he was going to have to pay for XY’s expensive dry cleaning.

The entire walk was quiet, which bothered XY for some reason, but he didn’t see any reason to do anything about it. He mostly didn’t know what to say and was trying to hide his identity from any fans or paparazzi. It wouldn’t do him any good to be spotted with the wannabe in his gross state.

It wasn’t until they were by the Seine that XY realized Luka wasn’t leading them to a dry cleaner.

“Hey, where are we going?” XY asked.

“We’re going to my house so you can get your clothes all clean and maybe you can take a shower.” Luka sniffed and scrunched his nose. “Yeah, you definitely need a shower.”

“I’ll have you know that it’s your fault that I smell and look like this!” XY huffed.

Luka just rolled his eyes and continued walking down the sidewalk at a slightly faster pace.

“So where is your house anyway?” XY looked around but couldn’t see any houses nearby.

All he could see was the boats people rented space for on the Seine. He had one somewhere, but couldn’t remember where it was located.

“I live there.” Luka pointed at a large and colorful ship with a rainbow rooster on one of the masts. “We call her, The Liberty. I hope you don’t get seasick.”

XY ignored the small smirk on Luka’s face. Instead he stared in awe at the houseboat Luka called home. “You live on a pirate ship?!?”

“Uh...yeah…”

“That’s so cool!”

Even when they boarded the ship, XY couldn’t help but notice every little thing on the ship. Mostly because everything was on the floor and he had to watch his step, but that didn’t stop him from looking on in awe at everything. It wasn’t everyday he walked onto a pirate ship.

Wait if Luka lived on a pirate ship did that mean he was a pirate? Nah, no pirate would subject himself to dressing like that. Pirate’s had a flair that Luka just didn’t have.

Luka led him downstairs, where XY learned the bedrooms and bathrooms were. For a pirate ship it seemed pretty nice. It was definitely cleaner than the top, which he appreciated.

“You can shower in here and just drop your clothes outside the door. I’ll bring you something to wear while they’re being washed,” Luka instructed, opening the door to the bathroom.

The bathroom definitely didn’t look like much, XY probably wouldn’t have been able to fit his entire closet in the small space. There was just a small green toilet and sink. The mirror right above the sink was so small that XY couldn’t even see his hair in it. There was a curtain towards the back that must’ve been the shower.

“Just make sure you hand wash my jacket. It’s very delicate. Wash my jeans on the delicate cycle and don’t wash them on high heat. I don’t need these skinny jeans getting more skinnier. Now, do you have any hair products? My hair is going to need some serious work after this shower.”

Luka just stared at XY with an absolutely done look on his face. “I’ll see what my sister has.”

With that, Luka left him alone in the ship’s bathroom. Pushing back the small curtain, XY spotted a showerhead and drain.

“Hey, where’s the bathtub?”

----

After Luka taught him how to use the shower, XY spent about an hour cleaning himself off. At least that’s how long it took for the hot water to turn cold, but even that wasn’t enough. He missed his constantly warm rose petal baths that he got at the hotel.

But he figured not everyone was as lucky as him if the lack of designer soap was any indication.

At some point, Luka had entered the bathroom, with something in his hand. XY had yelled at him, thinking he had a phone and was trying to get a picture of him in all his naked glory. Luka had just started yelling back, but XY couldn’t hear him. Eventually, Luka had left, effectively ending their screaming match.

Exiting the shower, XY noticed a stack of clothes on the sink counter. He was pretty sure they hadn’t been there when he first came in, but he tended to miss a lot of things. Clothes weren’t hard to miss, especially ones as cheap looking as these.

The clothes fit XY surprisingly well. Despite how rough looking the jeans appeared, they were surprisingly very soft. They felt like sweatpants but fit like skinny jeans. The T-shirt was comfortable, but it had an outline of Jagged Stone’s face on it, which ruined the shirt for him.

Admiring himself in the mirror, he realized he kind of looked like a blonde better looking version of Luka. Definitely hotter, XY thought, giving himself a smile in the mirror.

Satisfied with how he looked, XY tried to imagine what Luka would look like in his clothes. Unfortunately he was having trouble picturing it, so he decided he would have to settle for the next best thing. Dressing up Luka himself to see.

XY exited the bathroom looking for Luka only to find him on his bed strumming a black and white guitar. Luka had his eyes closed, and he looked so peaceful. It was really weird to see him like this since all XY’s really seen is the serious side of Luka.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Luka was like when he wasn’t playing hero.

“What are you doing here?” afeminine voice asked from behind XY. The soft music coming from Luka’s side of the room stopped as Luka acknowledged XY’s presence.

He turned around to find a purple-haired girl on another bed in the room. She looked at him with a disgust that XY didn’t understand. He had never seen this girl before, so what would she have against the fabulous XY himself? If anything she should be grateful that she’s even able to bask in his presence.

“Jules, he’s here as our guest,” Luka assured, placing his guitar down on the side of the bed. “I know you don’t like it. Trust me I don’t either, but play nice.”

‘Jules’ grumbled something under her breath and left, walking upstairs to the deck. Luka’s face had flushed red, apparently understanding whatever the girl had said.

“Juleka!”

A soft giggle came from the stairs, but other than that the girl disappeared, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Sighing, Luka picked up some clothes and hair products at the foot of his bed.

“Anyways, here’s some hair product I found and your clothes. Though I have to admit you don’t look too terrible with your hair down like that,” Luka commented, handing him the hair products and clothes.

The amount of products Luka handed to him wasn’t what he was used to, but he guessed that’s what it meant to be a pirate. No proper hair products to look decent.

“Thanks.” XY paused, looking up at Luka. “As a sign of my gratitude for taking me in, I have decided that I am going to give you a makeover.”

“Oh, that’s nice really, but I really can’t-” Luka started to protest as XY dragged him to the bathroom.

“Nope, you’re gonna accept my gift, and I won’t take no for an answer. Now take off all of those bracelets, what do you even need them all for?”

---

Twenty minutes later, Luka was wearing XY’s clothes and, thanks to XY, had his hair styled like XY’s signature hairstyle. In XY’s opinion, Luka looked amazing. Probably even cuter than he looked before.

From the bathroom counter, XY grabbed Luka’s bracelet and hoodie from off the counter and put them on. If he was going to swap styles with Luka he was going to do it right, and that meant dressing exactly like him.

“And done! What do you think?”

Luka nervously stood up from his spot on the toilet and walked over to the bathroom mirror. “Oh my gosh. I look like a goth Johnny Bravo.”

“Awesome! I told you my hairstyle isn’t that ridiculous.” XY grinned, satisfied with how Luka seemed to like his new look.

“Dude. That’s not a good thing. It feels like there’s a massive brick on my head,” Luka deadpanned. “Seriously, how much product did you use?”

Glancing at the empty containers of hair products, XY chose to ignore Luka’s question. “You’ll get used to the weight. I think you look amazing.”

Watching the blush form on an XY-dressed Luka, XY realized what he had been trying to deny for the past day. He was falling for this wannabe rocker.

#luxyweek2k20 #luxy #luxury #luka #xy #style swap #my fic #my writing #i cant help falling in love with you

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cool-ericleen-blog · 5 years ago

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rough-n-randy-rando · 5 years ago

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Edd and Flow; Jitters, Junk, Fireflies

Eddward Vincent had never been on a clandestine date before. Or any date for that matter. He’d gone to Sadie Hawkins with Nazz, but it had been a pleasant outing between two friends. Nazz had met his parents, he’d met Nazz’s, pinned a corsage, danced together under the supervision of chaperones, drank punch that may or may not have been spiked. It had been a quick affair, never repeated and with no misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

As he decided on what to wear, he thought over the situation in terms of what a date classically is and found that it was beyond typical categorization. If anything, it was a rendezvous. It had all the thrill, danger and intrigue of one at least. And it was hot, but not just hot, humid at that. A romantic rendezvous in a tank-top and shorts? It would be so.

There was another point of consideration; was that all this would be? A passing… something… in the night? Is that worthwhile? Is that something to look forward to? So many questions, and nothing but a time and place to answer them. As well as an auburn-haired boy. That raised more thoughts, lewd, personal thoughts. He humored them and changed again. Messy, messy, messy.

By four in the afternoon he’d run out of things to catalogue and alphabetize; every advisory note left by his parents was read and followed; Jim and the ant colony fed and watered; any and every bit of clothes washed, folded. Now he’d resorted to an impromptu one man play in the living room, portraying both himself and a suddenly erudite and proper Kevin, replete with baseball cap. Then, a knock at the door.

Actually, it was less a knock than it was Eddy strolling in, Ed in tow. “Hey Sockhead why dontcha answer your phone?” He tracked in mud, fresh, blackened mud likely from a runoff canal near the Creek. “Ed and I found a great spot ta set up Slippery Eddy’s Super Summer Splash Park and we need ya ta draw up the plans.”

“Eddy, shoes, please!” Double-Dee sprung over the couch and dialed a command into his wristwatch, sleeker models of the cleaner bots from the café emerging from the hall closet and setting to work.

Ed swept Double-Dee in his arms and crushed the air from his lungs in a rib-cracking bear hug. “Eddy told me you’d been taken by the sewer people, to build them a radioactive claw they’d use to steal the Earth’s core!” He mimicked a gnarled claw and snapped at various objects on the end table near the couch, curling his lip and crossing his eyes in his best impression of a sewer person.

“Ed, we’ve talked about unnecessary roughness in our greetings.” Double-Dee felt the pressure around him relax.

“Sorry Double-Dee.” Ed seemed on the edge of tears, sincerely remorseful he’d slipped up and possibly disappointed his friend.

Double-Dee had a special place in his heart, and therefore his patience, for Ed, and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s perfectly fine, Ed, just a friendly reminder. Now, if you wouldn’t mind releasing me.” Ed dropped him bodily to the floor and stood smiling.

Eddy had meanwhile helped himself to one of the pre-made sandwiches Double-Dee had spent the morning preparing for himself and was lounging on the couch, a phone in his hand. “All my missed calls and you didn’t even try to get back to me.” He seemed taken aback by something he saw on the screen and flew into a rage. “Kevin? What, he tryin ta shanghai ya ta help him with his summer school?”

Double-Dee scrambled over the couch and tried his best to get his phone back, Eddy keeping him at bay with his leg. “My correspondence with other people is my own business, Eddy; so unless you’re listed as the account holder or contribute directly to my service bill, I’d appreciate you returning my property to me and pondering your own social interactions, thank you very…” he kicked off the arm-rest of the couch and managed to spring past Eddy’s leg, grabbing ahold of his phone as he sailed off towards a crash landing, “much!”

He made a hard landing against the opposite wall, knocking over a waist-high bookshelf. Ed scrambled over and helped unbury Double-Dee, lifting him up to his feet and dusting him off.

“Are you okay, Double-Dee?”

“Yes, thank you, Ed… you didn’t take off your shoes?”

Sure enough, there was a long, thick trail of viscous, blackened mud from the entryway to him, the cleaner bots chugging along frustratedly.

“Forget his shoes, what’s Shovelchin tryin ta rope ya into, huh, huh?”

Double-Dee held the phone to his chest and turned his nose up at Eddy, moving off towards the kitchen. “None of your ‘beezewax’ to borrow from your own crude vocabulary.” He glanced at the screen and saw he had indeed received a message from a number identifying itself as Kevin.

Hey Double-Dork, it’s Kev, don’t forget.

He felt a bolt of lighting shoot up his spine and crash back down in the pit of his stomach, flooding him with warmth and energy, his heart racing. Now how to go about responding. He wanted to send a long-heartfelt message filled with his excitement and anticipation, the concern and worry that had been consuming him ever since their brief intimacy the day prior. Then he thought of how Kevin, up till now the smoothest of operators when it came to romance, would take this outpouring of deep emotions, especially in such an early, fragile state of their… relationship.

“Hello, Double-Dee, ya have a stroke or somethin?” Eddy had finished his sandwich, wiping his hands on the couch, and was looking at him expectantly.

“Eddy, how would you respond to someone who had asked you out on a date, wishing to maintain a level of distance and mask your enthusiasm?” He looked to Eddy, who had a crestfallen look on his face.

“Oh come on, not Boxhead…”

“The identity of the individual is irrelevant, but the question stands.”

“Is Double-Dee in love, Eddy?” Ed again closed the distance between himself and Edd, wrapping him up in a cautious embrace.

“I wouldn’t call it love, Ed, but someone has piqued my interest, yes.” Double-Dee relished the affection afforded to him by his gregarious friend and returned the hug.

“What you have to do is beat up their enemy like in Ultra Space Adventure number six-hundred and four, where Tim Cobalt, space explorer, fought for the love of an alien with a thousand mouths by defeating the hairy mutants from X-O-Nine!” Again, sudden silence, pleasant smile.

“I’ll take it under consideration, Ed.”

“I say leave him hangin, never text back, move away, save yourself the headache.”

“Come now, Eddy; could it be your prior antagonistic encounters with Kevin have soured your opinion of him?”

“Kevin’s a jerk, always will be a jerk, ask Nazz.”

Double-Dee bit his lip and tapped Ed to release him. He moved into the living room and sat in his father’s recliner, looking off to a spot on the carpet. “I admit, Kevin’s romantic record to this point has been less than stellar. But could it be that that’s a part of adolescence? After all, Kevin and Nazz remain close friends, despite their history.”

Eddy looked Double-Dee over and shook his head, standing to leave. “Double-Dee ya could marry a hornet’s nest and I’d ask when the reception is…” he picked at his teeth with the nail of his pinky-finger and examined what he’d scraped loose, “but Kevin?” He tutted and walked towards the door. “Just don’t ask me ta be nice ta him.” He paused and said over his shoulder, “Keep it loose, say when and where, then be there, keep him guessing.”

“Remember Double-Dee; defeating your love’s enemies is the key to the heart.” Sudden silence. Pleasant smile.

“Ed, your advice, as always, is illuminating.”

“Wait for me, Eddy!” Ed raced after Eddy and practically bulldozed him out the door, the pair alternatingly laughing and arguing as they made their way back to whatever spot they’d staked out.

Save for the cleaning machines lethargically scrubbing away at the last of the Ed’s mess, the house was quiet. Double-Dee looked at his screen again and considered a response. Then, another text popped onto the screen.

Don’t flake on me or I’ll pound ya.

It seemed Kevin was also in the throes of pre-date jitters. He thought on it for a moment, then replied.

Eight o’clock, the park.

And that was that.

The Park was one of the oldest in Peach Creek, planned back when the cul de sac and other suburb outcroppings were still just blueprints and promises. It was simple, a few play structures, slides and swings, as well as a sandbox. Ringed by tall, old trees that were always last on the town’s list of landscaping priorities, a canopy had formed in some places, and in others crowded saplings and bushes fought for space. Otherwise, it was a straight shot through the park from one end to the other, wide open views from the street that anyone could take in unobstructed while passing by.

These observations were obvious to Double-Dee as he sat at the picnic table, glancing at his phone every few seconds. 7:55pm. He’d arrived promptly at 7:30 to allow himself the opportunity to settle in, seem casual, build an alibi should anyone from the neighborhood or beyond happen upon him and subject him to interrogation. He’d imagined a million and one scenarios, his stories becoming more and more fluid as the questioning increased in severity. By 7:45 his resolve had faltered a bit, though he quickly reminded himself that it was Kevin who’d set the time and Kevin who’d sent a reminder, as well as a, hopefully, playful threat.

The summer sun set late. It would be almost 9 by the time it fully set beyond the western mountains, casting everything into deep, dark night. Now, at 8pm, there was more than enough light to show someone mounted on a restored, candy-red ’92 Honda VT600 Shadow roll up to the curb beyond the park’s entrance.

The mystery rider cut the engine and sat back in the seat, arms crossed, the tinted, visored helmet clearly looking towards him, “You comin or what?”

Double-Dee felt both underdressed and intimidated. Whereas he’d resolved to wear cargo shorts and a simple band tee, Kevin was clad in black denim with a weathered, adobe-colored leather jacket. He needed to retain some of the rehearsed blasé attitude he’d constructed.

“I’d accuse you of showing off but I’m afraid I don’t know enough about motorcycles or the necessary safety gear to offer any real criticism.” Humorous, self-effacing, humble.

“Shut up Dork, put this on.” The careful waltz of clever witticisms was shattered, and Kevin lobbed a small backpack at Double-Dee. Inside was an equally weathered chartreuse leather jacket and an older, Italian motorcycle helmet.

“First of all, Mr. Barr, don’t speak to me in that way.” Double-Dee let the bag drop to his feet and crossed his arms. “I’ll admit I’m positively disposed towards you but this disposition does not mean I’ll forgive disrespect.”

Kevin kept his helmet visor down, a black-eyed cyclops that stared him down wordlessly. He triggered the kickstand switch and let the bike settle at a cant, dismounting and walking straight up to the other boy. He stood a full head taller, and he still didn’t raise the visor.

“Well?” Gasoline fumes mingled with the aseptic bite of a cologne that had given up the ghost long ago. The closeness of the two as well as Kevin’s facelessness revived the sense of enticing danger Double-Dee had dismissed as romantic fantasy.

Kevin flipped up the visor and was smiling. “You’re cute when ya want to act all tough, Mr. Vincent.” He scooped the bag up and handed it daintily to Double-Dee. “Pretty please, with sugar on top, put this on.”

“Very well, but only because you asked so nicely.”

Soon, they were off, riding for about an hour to the west, halfway between Peach Creek and Lemon Brook. Suburbs gave way to orchards, the new moon providing more than enough light to navigate the many backroads Kevin detoured. Here and there you’d spot farmhouses; lonely old things that looked abandoned, only the motion-activated security lights close to the road reminding you that people lived there.

Even with earplugs, the sound of the bike’s engine was monstrously loud, the vibration of the road rattling Double-Dee numb. He’d kept his eyes clamped shut for much of the ride, but as Kevin slowed to take the winding roads to their unknown destination, he’d allowed himself to peek out into the night, take in the sights. In the milky-white brilliance of the new moon, details were discernable; old collapsed fence posts with depression-era barbed wire; an actual honest-to-god phone booth at a crossroads that still had a functioning light on the inside; an abandoned tractor that had been consumed by wild grass and weeds, a thicket forming around it; acres upon acres of anything and everything that grew on trees.

Though named for the citrus fruit, no lemons grew in or around Lemon Brook. The main employer of the community, Staple and Citrus Cargo Company, named the town after the first product they’d shipped in upon opening in 1890: Lemons for the Navy from California. Rail-lines, weigh stations, turntables, fuel and water depots cross-hatched and dotted the county. This area surrounding the town was known as the badlands, beginning and ending at an old district boundary no one bothered to review.

They finally came to a halt at the beginning of a gravel road that disappeared through a cluster of beech trees. Kevin killed the engine and sat for a moment, then turned his helmeted head.

“Hey, uh, you can let go now.”

Double-Dee did so, the blood rushing back into his arms, hands, fingers. “My apologies, Kevin, I’m not used to this mode of travel.”

“It’s fine, Nazz hated riding this thing too.”

Double-Dee dismounted shakily, his legs waking up. “I’m glad to know how other people you’ve dated enjoyed the experience.”

“Come on, Double-Dee, I didn’t me-” Kevin saw that the other boy was politely stifling a laugh. “Good one, you really made me feel like a jerk.”

“I can’t make you feel what you already suspect.” Eddward allowed himself the laugh and removed the helmet, his beanie pressed flat underneath.

“I’ve never seen someone get helmet HAT before.” Kevin dismounted as well and walked the bike off the side of the road into a stand of already dying paper birches. Double-Dee was waiting for him as he reemerged, and Kevin thought on how ridiculous he looked in the oversized jacket, shorts, and chipped-white helmet, old-school driving goggles sitting crookedly across the brow. “You look like you shop at the Salvation Army.”

Double-Dee considered what he was wearing and shrugged, “Half of this outfit was provided by you, so I’d say it reveals more about your own stylistic choices than mine.”

“Fair enough, come on, we’re almost there.”

They set off along the gravel road and entered the stand of beeches, Double-Dee taking note of the many bottles and cans strewn about the ground.

“I take it this is a popular place for revelry, shame they’re so inconsiderate of the local flora.”

Kevin stooped and came back up with one of the cans in hand. It was so faded, half-covered in a slimy, mossy sludge that he couldn’t make out any kind of date or design. He let it fall back among its brothers and wiped off the sludge on a tree as he walked by. “Used to be, all the upperclassmen would come here.”

“We’re the upperclassmen now.”

Kevin chuckled, “Yeah, we’re in the big leagues.”

They exited the stand of trees and stood at the edge of a field of tall grass about two acres long by two acres wide. Rising out of the grass here and there were old hulks of various vehicles. They were rusted husks without engines, without seats, skeletons of skeletons. In the center of the field there rose a jagged mound of earth and steel. Bicycles, shopping carts, weathervanes, melted and crushed together into a chaotic mass half-buried by an abortive burial attempt. The earth that had been heaped upon it had, over time, solidified and compacted, and now was topped by thin, white, fluted flowers.

What gave this mound shape was the most surprising specimen of all; beneath the wreckage and dirt sat an old tank, its turret turned slightly to the right, main gun held aloft by a sturdy-looking support brace bolted to the chassis.

Kevin took Double-Dee’s hand and squeezed it. “Welcome to the ThunderDome.”

Double-Dee giggled and took the lead, pulling Kevin along as he walked towards the mound. “I’d be interested to see what species of flower that is, as well as the model of the …”

They’d only taken a few steps in when the fireflies, as though they had fallen asleep on the job, rose and began their display. The two teens were surrounded by a flurry of light, a chain reaction rippling outward across the field, legions upon legions of the luminescent insects taking flight. The new moon was obscured by a blanket of clouds that threatened rain and thunder, the night deepening across the land. The fireflies were transformed from points of light to living stars, meteors caught in the atmosphere of this private universe, celestial bodies that collided and danced all around them.

“It’s beautiful, it’s like experiencing the moment after the Big Bang!”

Kevin looked at Double-Dee and was struck by the awe, the wonder in his eyes. As those wide orbs of glacial blue diamonds took in the beauty of the moment, reflections of fireflies that passed close by blinked in and out of existence like sparks from a flint. For a moment Kevin was party to Double-Dee’s immense knowledge, imagination, and understanding, and in that moment he felt afraid. He was one of the most intelligent people Kevin had ever met, an inscrutable mind of unknowable potential. What could he offer him? What could he give to him that he couldn’t create himself, better, at ten times the scale with ten times the power?

Double-Dee moved in close and laid his head on Kevin’s chest. “I could live in this moment for the rest of my life.”

At a loss for a response, but feeling victorious, he held him close and said nothing.

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