#so needless to say work's been fucking weird AND busy
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#me the past few days:#“why am I so anxious and scatter brained? why are my sh habits coming back? I'm doing fine. My pain isnt even that bad rn.”#i thought at first i was dehydrated because I've been drinking less water but i realized today#im fucking exhausted#a storm ripped the roof off the hospital where I work last week#so needless to say work's been fucking weird AND busy#I've been churning out art like never before since figuring out AMM#I'm trying to get my life together and feeling a real drive and motivation to do that#I've never been so burnt out on things that I love before#i also realized I'm still mourning my grandmother#that was still less than a month ago and fuck it I'm sad#i need to rest but just dont know how rn#maybe I'll figure out after work#i hope i do
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CHAPTER 6 | ALL OUT OF LUCK
w.c. 4.8k
tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, mentions of adult themes (e.g., sex), this chapter is pretty light-hearted imo, the calm before the storm or so they say, buckle up for the ending!!!
a/n. we're 2/3 of the way, y'all! as the series nears its end, i'd love to hear about what reading it has been like for you! my replies, reblogs, and asks are always open <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter—it was a blast to write!
links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)
The sound of wind chimes echoes throughout the crowded room, albeit slightly drowned out by the busy chatter of customers and waiters alike, coupled with the clanging noises emanating from what you think is the kitchen. Still, you’re quick to glance at the entrance when the ringing eventually reaches your ears.
Equal parts disappointment and relief flood through you when you catch sight of two people walking in who are decidedly not the guests of the hour.
“Nervous?” comes a sudden, low voice at your right.
You turn to look at the source, and what greets you is a Bakugou with an inexplicable expression on his face. You feel your eyebrows furrow ever so minutely—and you forgive yourself for it, because what the hell are you supposed to reply to that?
Acutely aware of the bug stuck firmly against your chest, though, you scramble for a natural response.
And really, what would be more natural than the truth?
“Would it be weird if I told you I am?”
You weren’t trying to be funny with that quip, but apparently Bakugou finds it humorous, because he chuckles before shaking his head. “Nah.”
He doesn’t expound much after that, to your chagrin. You shrug it off, though, opting to soothe yourself instead. The last thing you need is to seem frazzled—even if you are—not when you’re fully cognizant of Hiroto’s unassuming presence a few tables across from you.
Well, as far as a baseball cap, sunglasses indoors, and a flimsy mustache pass up for unassuming.
Another attempt of yours at a hasty glimpse at the door gets interrupted when Bakugou stretches out his left arm to check his sports watch. You manage to take a peek and see that it’s 11:21 AM. According to the man beside you, they didn’t agree to meet until half past eleven, but you’re here early, just as you planned the night before.
Needless to say, Masaki was understandably skeptical.
“And here I thought you’d know better than to easily believe chatter, Bakugou,” replied the leader when the pro-hero elaborated on his proposal.
“And here I thought you’d know better than to underestimate the word of mouth,” came Bakugou’s impatient response. “If there’s anything I learned working in the field, it’s that that sort of thing shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“Rumors can escalate, especially if they’re as intriguing as the ones circulating about us. Besides,” he added, “We could use some fucking fresh air. Why don’t you try being cooped up for more than two weeks, hah?”
Masaki didn’t take the bait and counter with another wisecrack, evidently troubled by the newfound information and the fact that Bakugou was making sense. However, despite the ash-blonde’s persuasive argument, the man turned you down and sent you back to your activities after a moment’s consideration.
You went through the day masking as much as you could despite the defeat weighing down your steps, entirely convinced that you lost your one chance at informing the outside world about the plans of attack. Bakugou was extra cranky, too, blowing up all the targets in quirk training and leaving nothing but a pile of ashes for the rest of the members.
You were about to grab your pillow and duvet cover from the bed to make the nightly transfer when a series of knocks resounded from your room’s door. From where he was lounging on the mattress, Bakugou eyed you, and you took that as your cue to get up and figure out who the fuck was going to make your already shitty day even shittier.
It didn’t surprise you to find a stoic Hiroto on the other side, but what did surprise you was what he’d say next.
“He said you could go,” he started, seeming pained, as if it hurt him to say that. “On one condition.”
“What is it?” you asked, hopefulness rekindling, just as you heard Bakugou sit up behind you.
“I tail the both of you.”
Which leads you to the present, seated in a large booth beside Bakugou in one of his favorite katsu restaurants, with a disguised twin watching the two of you like a hawk, waiting.
And if you really think about it, you’re quite lucky things turned out this way—with Bakugou’s words of warning getting to this damned organization’s leader, even if you are being tailed—because otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this golden opportunity to communicate with the rest of the—
“Kacchan!”
You whip to look at the entrance—startled—and sure enough, standing by the glass doors are four people who you could recognize from a mile away.
Pro-heroes Chargebolt, Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane.
They’re all smiles as they march through the tables, as if their big introduction wasn’t enough, and normally you’d be sinking in your seat in embarrassment at how loud and flashy your companions are being. But for once, you’re actually thankful they are this way, reminding yourself that you’re not only here to pass a message.
No, you’re here to make a scene.
You stand up out of courtesy as the four arrive at the booth Bakugou selected when you arrived roughly thirty minutes earlier—positioned conveniently smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. Bakugou gingerly follows suit.
“Kacchan!” Chargebolt—Kaminari—repeats, flashing the man a toothy grin, before bringing in him for a hug, which the latter begrudgingly accepts.
“It’s been too long, bro!” the electric hero quips as they pull apart, his gaze then drifting to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “And who do we have here?”
“Don’t make her feel embarrassed, Denks,” comes a good-natured voice from beside him, and you shift to look at the man speaking. Kirishima—Red Riot—tosses you an apologetic smile, reaching out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Eijirou, one of Bakubro’s closest friends. It’s great to finally meet you, …?”
“Y/N,” you supply, smiling back at him as you shake his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you guys.”
“Bakugou’s finally got a girlfriend, huh?” Cellophane—Sero—who’s standing tall behind the redhead—comments, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.
“Watch it,” Bakugou warns from beside you, although it doesn’t have much bite to it.
“And she’s really pretty, too!” pipes up Pinky—Mina—who elbows Kaminari to the side to pull you into a hug, which you readily return. Not knowing what to say, you only laugh, shooting her a grateful look when you let go of each other.
“Thank you for coming out here despite the last-minute invite,” you offer, feeling a tad bit self-conscious. Still, you press on, gesturing towards the seats. “Please, sit down.”
A chorus of ‘Sure’s’ and ‘Thanks’ erupts from the group as they settle in, with Mina, Kaminari, and Sero sitting across you and Kirishima piling in your booth, situating himself beside Bakugou. As they do so, you take the opportunity to quickly scan the restaurant, and sure enough, virtually everyone has paused their respective conversations to look at what’s going on at your table, curious expressions etched on their faces.
“So,” Kirishima starts, leaning into the table to peer at you. “How does it feel to be the cause of Bakugou’s downfall as Japan’s hottest bachelor?”
You splutter, caught off guard by the question, but Bakugou comes to your rescue by punching the ridiculously buff man in the arm.
The latter only barks out a laugh.
“Shut it, shitty hair.”
“Alright, alright,” Kirishima huffs out, chuckling. “You can choose not to answer that. But y’all have to tell us how you met, though.”
At that, Mina squeals, like she just got reminded of that juicy opening. “Yes, please! We made a bet on the way here. Sero’s convinced you’re a paid actress, but I say you had an adorable meet-cute, like at the grocery or something!”
“The fuck?” Bakugou says just as you snort.
“Wait—” Sero straightens up in his seat, completely ignoring the ash-blonde. “What was that snort for? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You better fucking watch yourself, you—”
“Sorry, Sero,” you manage to get out, pulling a lie out of your ass just in time. “But Mina’s right.”
Said girl fist pumps the air while Sero visibly deflates. You feel Bakugou’s eyes trained on the side of your face.
“We met on the airplane,” you continue when nobody says a thing. “We were seatmates, he was reading a book that I loved, and we just hit it off from there.”
“Seriously?” Kaminari cries out, thankfully catching everyone’s attention from your definitely-not-just-made-up story. “It couldn’t have been that easy.”
You shrug, not really knowing how to respond to that, but gratefully you don’t have to because Bakugou chimes in.
“To you,” he taunts, before: “And what’re you complaining about? Aren’t you planning to ask Ears out?”
“Don’t—” Kaminari begins, before ultimately sighing in surrender, mouth formed into a pout. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“There, there,” Sero pats the blonde’s back, although he’s looking far from sympathetic. “Time and place for everything, bro. Now’s not the time for you, though.”
“I knew it!” Mina sing-songs, crushing your dreams of having successfully closed the ‘how did you meet’ chapter of this conversation. Still, you try not to let the dread show on your features.
“What drew you towards him, Y/N?” the acid hero furthers. “On that day at the plane.”
“What…drew me towards him?” you lamely parrot.
“Yeah!” she laughs. “You know, did you think he was cute? Did he smell good? Was he being a gentleman?”
“Do we really have to know all these?” Sero complains.
Mina looks away from you to regard the ebony-haired man, a playful frown decorating her pink face. “Now you’re just being a sore loser, Sero.”
You gulp, taking the short window of reprieve to think about what to say. How does one even come up with an acceptable answer? You chance a glance at Bakugou, and you try not to appear shocked when you find him already looking at you.
Well.
You swore you’d never walk through memory lane, at least the painfully humiliating one concerning Bakugou throughout the course of this mission, but it seems like current affairs call for old data.
And so you dig through the past for a response.
“I—uh…” you start, before trying again. “Well, just as you said, I found him attractive. Physically. But also, with the way he just carried himself. He was very into the, uh, book, and I found it endearing.”
To that, Mina drawls out a long ‘aww’ but gets interrupted by Kirishima, who leans forward again to look past Bakugou and right at you. “But he wasn’t a stranger to you, was he?”
“No, we—”
“Of course, not,” Kaminari cuts you off, “Kacchan here’s crazy popular. Ever since UA, remember?”
“Uh, no, actually…” you trail off, and everybody turns to look at you, questioning.
You take a deep breath.
“I’m actually from UA, too. But from the Gen Ed track. I was your…batchmate.”
“No way.”
“Seriously?”
“Why haven’t I heard of you?”
“I knew you seemed familiar,” the redhead proclaims, his booming voice overwhelming the rest. You shift to face him, shocked.
He beams at you. “You have that interesting quirk. What was it? I think it was luck—”
You gape at him. “Right.”
That causes him to grin wider. “Yeah! I remember Midoriya rambling about how unique your quirk was and how it had so much potential during our graduation ceremony.”
You only gawk at him just as Bakugou stirs in his seat. You steal a glimpse at the man, who, if you didn’t know any better, is looking miffed, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, you take the chance to smile at Kirishima, gratitude blooming in your chest at being remembered.
“Now I feel like shit for not recognizing you, babe,” Mina laments.
You shake your head. “No offense taken, Mina.”
“Still! I should’ve—”
“But wait,” Kaminari interjects, features morphed into an uncharacteristically serious expression. “If you found Kacchan attractive just by first impressions alone, wouldn’t that mean you would’ve had a crush on him back in UA?”
You blink.
Fuuuu—
“Quit spitting nonsense, dunce face,” Bakugou spews out of nowhere, stunning you into a lull and shutting everyone up.
“That’s faulty ass logic,” he finishes without further explication.
Silence.
“…I guess so,” replies the electric hero after a beat, sounding just as bewildered as you are.
But then Mina claps her hands together, and suddenly the tension dissipates. “Enough about the past, you guys! How about now, Y/N? What do you like about Bakugou here?”
“What are you, my old hag?” Bakugou swiftly retorts. “Quit fucking proddin—”
“We’re just curious, bro,” comes Kirishima’s easygoing reply. “We’re happy for you, and we’re keen on the details.”
“…Fine.”
You were about to whip to look at Bakugou, surprised at how easily he relented and all the while unceremoniously threw you under the bus, but you’re able to stop yourself from doing so in the nick of time.
Instead, you turn to look at his friends, who are all staring at you expectantly.
Jesus.
Here goes nothing, then.
“He cares…a lot,” you start, voice wobbly. “But I’m sure you guys knew that already. And, he’s very protective of me.”
“I feel safe and comfortable around him. Plus,” you pause, a chuckle unexpectedly bubbling in your throat. “He’s funny. I mean, he swears to god he doesn’t snore but he—”
“Wait, wait, wait—hold up.”
You freeze, and one look at Kaminari’s face is enough to let you know you fucked up.
Pro-hero Chargebolt grins at you. “You mean you sleep together?”
Shit.
You wouldn’t be lying if you said yes, would you?
Not that you can say no.
And so as you purse your lips, you nod.
“…Yeah.”
At that, and in a blink of an eye, the group erupts into a fit of cheers and shouting but Kaminari’s cry is the one that emerges on top of it all as he stands up.
“Kacchan’s finally getting some!” he practically announces to the entirety of the restaurant, before turning to the man in question, his arm raised. “Give me five, bro!”
Unsurprisingly, Bakugou only glares at him, seething. “Quit fucking talking about my sex life, you dipshit.”
“Not until you return my hi-five!”
“Fucking—”
You watch the two as they have a staredown, but only a few seconds in you can already tell Kaminari is nowhere near backing down. Bakugou must’ve noticed that, too, because a beat later, he averts his gaze—not before rolling his eyes—and acrimoniously slaps the former’s palm.
“Enough about us, though, right?” you assert—desperate to get the spotlight away from you and your fake relationship—just as Kaminari seats himself with a big, proud grin on his face. “What about you guys? What have you been up to?”
To your relief, Mina enthusiastically takes the lure and begins chatting up a storm. You listen with genuine interest as she goes on about starting her own agency and rising to 17th from 28th last year. Kirishima adds to the narrative by divulging how he’s since taken in a fresh UA graduate as a sidekick as per Midoriya’s recommendation. Eventually, you find yourself slowly relaxing as he continues, drawing parallels between his experience with Fat Gum and now being the main hero himself at 9th place in the HBJ.
You try asking Kaminari about how his agency is going, but no matter how he starts his storytelling, it always drifts back to the fact that his building is next to Jirou’s, which unfailingly goes to how it’s going with him and the Hearing hero.
“What did I tell you, bro?” Sero chastises him when Kaminari starts waxing poetic about the musician slash hero. “We’re here to celebrate the happy couple. Don’t go raining on their parade.”
“No—really, it’s oka—”
“I have to go to the restroom!” Mina throws in abruptly and as a matter of factly, completely disregarding the previous topic, before shifting to face you. “Care to join me, Y/N?”
Now, as much as you want to escape from the group and take a breather, you still find yourself hesitating at the invitation, although you manage not to shoot Bakugou a look lest you cause suspicion.
You talked about this—last night—how you’d secretly transmit the details of the attack to any of the four. Your plan requires you to be at the scene, prepared to use your quirk on anyone at any time if necessary, but even you can’t deny that it’d be odd if you declined Mina’s offer.
Girl code and all.
Sero must think the same, too, because the man comes up with an irritatingly badgering remark. “What, can’t bear to be away from Bakugou for even a second?”
“Sheesh,” Kaminari piles on while the rest aside from Bakugou—who’s turning red from what you’re sure is displeasure—snicker among themselves.
“Ha ha, very funny, Kaminari,” you laugh in an attempt to play it off, ultimately deciding to get up as Mina does the same thing from across you.
And you’re about to leave it at that and follow Mina to the girls’ restroom, but you’re stopped by your gut—and an inkling that Hiroto is closely watching the exchange.
Before you can even think twice about what you’re about to do, you spin on your heel and lean down and into Bakugou.
You barely register him shortcircuiting at the sudden proximity, too caught up in your own audacity, as you clench your eyes closed and hastily plant a chaste kiss on his absurdly soft lips.
And just as quickly as you invaded his space, you pull away, mouthing a soft ‘Be right back’ before once again spinning on your heels and starting the trek to the comfort room, willing yourself to ignore the hooting and whistling behind you.
Mina jogs after you, grinning when she catches up and offers you a low-five.
You return it.
“Atta girl.”
“I love your makeup, by the way,” Mina comments as she emerges from a stall behind you, while you wash your hands in one of the sinks.
“And your outfit, too,” she adds, and before you can say anything back: “Do you always look like this?”
You’re not about to tell her you usually look like you just rolled out of bed but are in the middle of a somewhat life-or-death mission hence the constantly put-together look, and so you just shrug sheepishly.
“Uh, I just try to look presentable, you know?”
“Girl, you look more than just presentable.”
You shoot her a thankful smile. “Thanks, Mina.”
That causes her to brighten up. “Don’t mention it! Though, you mind telling me what lip combo you’re wearing?”
Now you’re anything but a gatekeeper when it comes to beauty and your girlfriends, so you tell her. She promptly notes it down on her phone with the signature active-listening nod, thanking you when you finish answering her follow-up questions.
“Great! Now I have another excuse to go shopping.”
You laugh, moving to throw the tissue you used to dry your hands with and head out when she reaches for your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
You turn to face her, eyebrows raised in question.
She beams at you.
“I’m really happy for the both of you, you know?”
You stammer, but Mina goes on—releasing her grip on you—before you can think about something to say back.
“You do know that you’re his first girlfriend, right?”
You did not know that.
You don’t let her know.
“You see, he’s always been popular with girls, especially ever since the end of the Great War. He really doesn’t know how to go about them, though. You’re the first one to really tame him like this.”
You can’t help it—you snort at her word choice. She snickers.
“Thanks, but I really don’t think there’s much to—”
“Girl,” Mina cuts you off, “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
You gulp. There’s absolutely no need for you to know about this, let alone be fed with delusion-fueling lies. Still, you can’t find it in you not to ask. “What about it?”
She giggles. “You really need me to spell it out? His gaze has always been intense but I don’t know—they seem extra piercing when he’s looking at you. And, he looks at you more than you think he does. Believe me, I’ve been studying him ever since we walked into this restaurant.”
Nah.
You wave her off as nicely as you can. “You’re too kind, Mina.”
And she really is, so much so that you’re actually feeling guilty over putting this whole act in front of them. The girl is just trying to hype you up, while you’re here flat-out lying to her face.
“Whatever,” she waves you off, and you’re just about to think the conversation’s finally over when, once again, she continues, a mischievous look on her face.
“About what Kaminari said, though—I know stuff was implied and forgive me—but I just have to ask. I promise this’ll stay between us, but…”
Oh, no.
“…Have you done it yet?”
You choke on your spit.
“Sorry! Sorry,” she talks over you, patting your back as you cough your lungs out. By the time you’ve gathered your bearings, she’s smiling at you guiltily, though something tells you she’s still waiting for an answer.
“Well?”
There you go.
And really, what’s left for you to do than confirm her suspicions? Especially after you quite literally choked like that?
You nod your head slowly, and she squeals.
Great, you think to yourself. Now Pro-hero Pinky, one of your great role models, thinks you’ve fucked one of her closest friends.
You try to console yourself by saying at least the rest of the Quirk Coalition is hearing this and probably getting more and more convinced about your sham relationship.
Copium, right?
“I swear, this secret stays with me, bestie!” Mina reassures you excitedly. “Just make sure y’all stay safe, okay?”
“O-of course, yes.”
“Great. Let’s head out, yeah?”
By the time you return to your table, some of the food’s already been served—everyone’s except Mina’s and Kaminari’s. You got so caught up in dealing with the rocks they threw at you mid-conversation and in managing being with Mina that you completely forgot about ordering food.
“Wait—I didn’t—” you sputter as Bakugou and Kirishima step aside to let you squeeze into the booth, following suit and sitting beside you once you’re in.
“You two were taking too long,” explains Kirishima. “Bakugou went ahead and ordered something for you, as well as Mina’s go-to dish.”
“Yay!” Mina claps, “Thanks, Bakugou!”
“Thanks…babe,” you say quietly, eyeing the ebi tempura katsu he got you.
“No problem,” comes his curt response.
Thankfully, no one comments on the fact that you just called Bakugou a pet name, distracted by the waiter serving the remaining food. Amidst the increasingly rare quiet, you look down at your own plate, before sneaking a glance at the ash-blonde’s beside you.
You didn’t notice you were already staring at his bowl of chicken curry when his deep, low voice rips you out of your stupor.
He eyes you. “You want mine?”
You quickly shake your head. “No, I’m good with the tempura.”
And, as if to prove your point, you pick one up with your chopsticks and bring it to your mouth, taking a small bite. You smile at him, “See?”
Bakugou studies you for a beat longer with his eyebrows furrowed, before he picks up his set of chopsticks and steals away your piece of shrimp.
“Hey—”
You don’t get to have a word in before he devours the tempura in one bite, nor when he swiftly switches your trays between the two of you.
“Bakugou—”
“Damn,” quips Kaminari, catching your attention. You quickly realize that everyone else is gawking at the both of you, too stunned to speak.
The vibrant blonde points to what’s become your dish of curry with his chopsticks. “He’s never done that for any of us before.”
“Yeah,” Sero piles on, eyes wide as saucers. “He loves his hot curry.”
“Bakugou,” you try again, reaching out for your plate, but he gently swats your hands away.
“Just—eat.”
You frown, though you know better than to argue the second time.
“God, I’m stuffed!”
You chuckle as you watch Kaminari rub his belly like a pregnant woman, while Mina and Sero beside him look just as maimed by a particularly debilitating case of food coma—if not more.
“I understand why this is your favorite lunch spot,” you offer, “The food’s amazing.”
“Right?” retorts Kaminari. “We used to go here a lot when we were still—”
“Excuse me,” the waiter—having seemingly emerged from thin air—cuts off the blonde, who instantly shrinks in himself at being interrupted. “Here’s your receipt, sir.”
Kirishima accepts the bill and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Bakugou’s quick to snatch the leather pad away from him.
You straighten up just as the rest of the squad burst into a series of coos, teasing you about how cool your #2 pro-hero of a boyfriend is.
A remark that they instantly take back when said boyfriend busts out a pen, seemingly to help him double-check the bill and fill up the customer feedback form that was distributed during the middle of your meal.
You know better, though.
You barely catch the side eye Bakugou gives you, but you do, and you immediately ready yourself to use your quirk.
You try not to seem too interested in what he’s jotting down as he hastily scribbles on the form, opting to look at the three in front of you instead.
Almost instantaneously, you realize it’s a mistake.
“What’re you two planning on doing after this, Y/N?” asks Mina.
“We—uh—”
“Do you already have something planned?” interjects Sero, “Because if not, there’s this new place that I recommend you—”
“Actually,” you glance at Bakugou, but you don’t get to look at the paper before you return to face them. “I have—”
“What do you guys mean?” whines Kaminari, “Aren’t we still hanging out after this?”
You were just about to spew a dismissive remark when you feel something kick your shin, and you whip to look at Bakugou, but he’s not turned towards you. Instead, he’s facing down onto the piece of scrap, blocking everyone’s view of it while tapping on it with a pen.
Your eyes trail the length of the tool, and right at the tip of it is the word NOW, encased in a circle.
You didn’t need to be told twice.
Bakugou must’ve noticed you getting the signal because he then moves to pat Kirishima on the shoulder, and as he does so, you look up to discreetly search for Hiroto amidst the crowd, spotting him in an instant.
You can’t say for sure, but you’re pretty certain he’s looking straight at you judging by the way his body’s oriented toward your table.
Either way, it’s not like you have the luxury of hesitation.
Once you believe you’ve locked eyes, that’s when you pull.
Hard.
Harder than the last two times.
Acute wariness into boundless relaxation.
And you see it—the way his frame instantly slouches from the tense stance it was just in. He even reaches down in what you think is an attempt to check if his shoelaces were untied, and you grab the opportunity and immediately turn to check on Kirishima.
His face is evidently contorted in confusion when your gaze lands on him, and a surge of panic shoots through you at the sight of it. You think Bakugou must be feeling the same way, but you don’t dare waste a millisecond to verify.
Instead, you call out the redhead’s name, to which he responds by looking at you.
Once again, you pull.
This time, palpable bewilderment into laser-sharp focus.
And just like you did with Hiroto, you watch as Kirishima’s features shift into that of a harmless boy next door to the #8 pro-hero Red Riot, before he calmly takes the piece of paper Bakugou slid across the table and pockets it.
Once you’ve made sure that the message is safely secured in Kirishima’s jean pocket, you risk a quick glance back at Hiroto, who’s only now stretching back up from checking his shoes.
It then dawns on you.
You did it.
And not only that, you managed to make a scene.
That is, if you were to go by the distinct camera shutters that’d been going off the moment you entered the restaurant with Bakugou Katsuki.
The Bakugou Katsuki you’re definitely not falling for again.
˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!
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#it's always a blast with them fr#i laughed at my own writing multiple times while working on this chapter lol#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou imagines#mha imagines#bnha imagines#mha scenarios#bnha scenarios#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou imagine#bakugou fluff#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n
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Beneath the Ashes - Azriel x Reader
Beneath the Ashes - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader
Sneak Peek
Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)
A/n: I feel bad that I haven’t had anything ready for you guys in a while so here’s a little sneak peek at a request I’m working atm
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Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.
It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture. He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.
But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord.
Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon.
He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.
Beautiful.
Our master must see.
Permission to kill, master?
Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here.
He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion.
Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"
Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks.
None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiral towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her.
She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.
Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller.
"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention.
"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?"
"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."
"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly.
The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission.
Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs.
Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her.
"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.
"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody."
"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could.
"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go."
"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.
"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck.
"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle.
"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”
“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.
“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”
“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”
“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.”
“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!”
“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”
“Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”
The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat.
“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled.
Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.”
He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.
Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists.
When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter.
It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."
Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....
"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?"
She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.
"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing."
“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.
“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.
"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you."
She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before.
When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”
“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”
“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.
“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.
Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door.
“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”
The door slammed in his face a second later
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar
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Side note: I’m not back from my hiatus, I’m just giving you guys a treat to make the long waits a little bit better!
Chapter 7 - Something’s wrong with the puppy.
Summary: Eijirou comes into the coffee shop looking like the ghost of himself. Needless to say, you make sure he feels better as soon as possible.
Warnings: Swear words, reader has a few, tiny bit inappropriate thoughts here and there, sharing a bath (in underwear! Nothing cheeky!) a little bit angsty on Kirishima’s side, bless his broken little soul.
First Chapter Master List
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“Who made you frown like that, puppy dog?”
Eijirou is here for his usual morning beverage but he looks absolutely… done. He also looks like he just finished a shift instead of starting one but you decide not to comment on that for now; his mental health is much more important than the fact that he has soot all over his face and probably scares the customers with his disheveled look. His bright red hair is muted into a weird, dark grayish-crimson color and there are cracks in the metal parts of his costume.
It has been two weeks since your first kiss but Eijirou haven’t kissed you since. His work was hectic, your date on that Friday got canceled and you’ve only seen each other here, in the coffee shop and even that was only for a few minutes instead the usual half an hour. You miss him so much. “Why are so dirty, hun’?”
“I don’t want to go back. Too much. Tired. Don’t wanna talk to anyone.”
Yet here he is, in a busy coffee shop, just so he can see you. Fucking hell, you love him so much.
“Come.” You point towards the staff room at the back. Thankfully, the boss is here to support you today and she’s nice enough to not comment on the fact that you are supposed to serve customers and not to give mental support to your broken boyfriend. You make eye contact with her and she only rolls her eyes.
“Go home.” She mouths silently and you don’t need to be asked twice.
“Actually, change of plans, follow me.”
Eijirou doesn’t say a word through the whole journey home. You call a taxi and tell the guy your address; you don’t want anyone to see him like that and you are quite sure he wouldn’t want that either if he would be in the right state of mind.
You open your door but Ei doesn’t move so you pull him in with you and make your way towards the bathroom with him. He still haven’t said a single word since you’ve left the coffee shop but that’s okay. You start the water in the bath and pour your favorite lavender scented bubble bath into it; the water becomes purple with silver glitters swirling around happily, the scent calming you right away and you can only hope it does the same for your mopey companion.
“I’ll take your… this thing off. Is that okay?” You point at the two metal accessories on his torso and he only nods at that. You hate seeing him like this. Eijirou should always smile. He’s beautiful when he’s happy.
It takes you a few seconds to understand how those things work but after a while you find two clips on the back; you catch the gauntlets when they are about to fall down and you almost pull a muscle; they are so heavy you can’t believe he’s working in these every day. You wouldn’t be able to lift them if you wouldn’t have gone through your uncle’s training when you were a teen.
“Let’s clean you up a little bit before you sit in, okay?” You take a cloth from the cupboard and wet it, slowly stroking the hero’s upper body to rid him of the black soot. He doesn’t say anything but his frown deepens, like he’s ashamed of being in this state, which honestly, it’s quite understandable. As the soot disappears you find quite a lot of scars, they aren’t bleeding anymore but they definitely sting but he doesn’t even flinch when you touch them with the wet towel. You decide to leave then untreated for now and do that after the bath when hopefully, Eijirou will have more mental energy to actually communicate. They are really small compared to the usual hero injuries but for a normal person, these would be enough to end up in a hospital for at least a day. This is one of the things that makes you mad about the hero world… how they are treated differently even though they are just humans, like everyone else. All these old scars on his body wouldn’t be there if they would have been treated properly, but they weren’t; because it’s just a “scratch”, too small for the medic team to care about in the chaos but injuries like that still leave a scar afterwards but apparently that doesn’t matter because heroes aren’t supposed to be pretty, they are nothing but a living-breathing weapon, even in this day and age. It got a little bit better since pro hero Deku and his gang took over the top charts but there’s still a long way to go before the heroes can get the right treatment.
Eijirou’s muscles bounce under your hands, the skin alternating between soft and rough, depending on the area; for instance, the area where his gauntlets is full of callouses, angry and red, probably from the constant friction. You drop the wet towel into the sink to trace them with your fingers, but Eijirou catches your wrist after a few tentative strokes.
“Hurts.” He mumbles. “Ugly.”
It breaks your heart how he can’t even make a full sentence properly right now. He’s a shadow of himself, a dark blob in the well-lit bathroom.
“It’s not.” Is all you say and decide to approach the situation in a different way; you move into Eijirou’s space and start leaving tiny kisses around the area, slowly moving closer to the calluses and leaving feather light pecks all over the reddish area. “It’s beautiful because it’s you.”
Eijirou doesn’t even try to hide the tears in his eyes. He starts to sob loudly, pulling you closer by your waist as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, body flush against yours. Your heart thrashes in your chest and you are quite sure he can feel the heavy bangs against his chest but instead of feeling ashamed you just feel… happy. Happy to be able to show him how much he means to you in ways he knows you can’t fake. “I really like you, Eijirou.”
“I love you. So much.” His hand grips your hair at your nape and you almost moan from the sudden pleasure. Your scalp was always really sensitive so you hated when people ruffled your hair in a friendly gesture but this… this is perfect. It’s more than perfect when it’s Eijirou who’s doing it.
“Let me take care of you, Ei.” He doesn’t say anything to that just lets you pull him towards the bath full of bubbles. “Can I get rid of your trousers? Underwear can stay.” He nods again and you get to work, trying not to think about about how suggestive this whole situation is. It’s not the right time for that. You already made the situation weird by enjoying the hair pulling a bit too much so it’s time for you take a deep breath and take your mind out of the gutter. He needs you.
Eijirou plops into the bath like a good boy after that but doesn’t do anything else; he just sits there with an empty gaze, staring at the shower gel bottle in the corner as though he’s having a silent conversation with it. And maybe he does. Who knows.
He doesn’t let your hand go, he holds it tight even as his body slowly relaxes; by the look of it, he won’t do anything for the next few minutes so you try to reach the shampoo bottle on the other end but Eijirou suddenly pulls your hand and you end up falling into the bath tub, your head thankfully landing on his chest and not somewhere dangerous. You look at your wet clothing and sigh, a tiny hint of a smile hiding in the corner of your mouth.
“Ei. If you wanted me to join you you should’ve just said so.” You giggle as you try to rid yourself from the disgustingly wet shirt and your trousers, probably hitting the poor guy with your elbows quite a few times but he doesn’t comment on it. You end up in your panties and your bra which is basically the same as wearing a swimsuit even though the padded bra feels really uncomfortable on your skin but there is no fucking way you’ll take that off right now for obvious reasons.
You really need to tell yourself AGAIN that this is NOT a romantic situation. Don’t think about what are you sitting on right now. Do not.
You wait a few seconds to give him time to answer but it doesn’t seem like he will so you finally take the shampoo in your hand and and give it to the redhead while you take the the shower head in your hand and start spraying his hair, straddling the guy’s hips while you do so. As the red gets brighter you can’t help but notice his roots; there is a tiny bit of black peeking out from his scalp, so tiny you wouldn’t even see it if you are not up close.
You are not surprised about it per se, you had a hunch his hair isn’t natural but it still baffles you a little bit.
“I can’t imagine you with black hair.” You mumble and the hero tenses under you. “Hey, it’s just hair. Don’t act like I just realized you are an alien.” You leave a tiny kiss on the top of his head to calm him down and thankfully, it works wonders; his body relaxes again, soft and pliant under your touch. “Mine is dyed too. I know, shocker.”
Eijirou looks up at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.
“And Uncle Riot?”
You can’t help but laugh loudly at that.
“Of course that’s your first question.” You mumble as you lather the shampoo into his hair. “His hair color is natural. He’s the only one in the family with that shade. Don’t ask, why, because we have no idea. My dad used to tease him about being adopted, they were terrible to each other. Typical brothers, really.”
“I don’t have any siblings.” Eijirou admits with a shy look on his pretty flushed face.
“Me neither. Thank god for that, I’m enough of a menace alone, we don’t need another one of me in the family.” You slowly wash the soap away, ready to put the conditioner on. He lets you do it in silence, he just closes his eyes and enjoys how your fingers scratch his scalp in the process. “You like this, Ei? Feeling better?” You scratch behind his ear like he’s a dog but by the look of it, Ei likes it so it doesn’t end up being as weird as you thought it would be.
“Uhum. I’m… I’m back. Kinda.” He admits sheepishly.
“Still okay with me being here with you? Do you want me to get out?” You ask, just in case; you don’t want him to be uncomfortable and you absolutely understand if he feels like it’s too much now.
“Can I wash your back?” Is the answer you get and your cheeks flush heavily from the words.
 You leave the conditioner on his head to do its thing and sit between his legs, ready to be washed. Now it’s really starting to sink in how… close you two are right now. It’s extremely intimate, way too intimate for two people who’s been dating for less than a month but somehow, it just feels… right. Perfect. Like it’s how it’s supposed to be.
Eijirou moves towards the shower gel, pumps the liquid into his hands and starts washing your back; his hands are so careful yet so deliberate, it almost feels like a massage and you can feel the goosebumps appearing on your skin from the pleasure. You sigh contentedly, feeling the urge to lay back on his chest and instead of pushing you back to your original position he lets you lean on him, his hands snaking around your waist to pull you close. His chin ends up on your shoulder then he takes a deep breath and finally, he starts talking.
“Katsuki and his fiancé are on a holiday. They went to see her family abroad so they’re not in town. Stupid fuckers realized the number two hero is away and started to do all kind of shit in our patrol area, hoping they can get away with it but needless to say, it’s all in vain but they don’t give up. It’s constant. They are easy jobs but… I’m tired. I haven’t slept for a week. Izuku and Shouto tries to help as much as they can but they have their own agency to run as well as helping ours and we are missing the two strongest heroes in our agency so… yeah.”
“You know it’s not your fault, right? You know you are strong enough, this is just way too much for a person fueled by coffee and energy drinks? You are just a human, Eijirou. Give yourself a break. I’m quite sure your friends can keep an eye on your agency for one day.” You interlace your fingers with his, squeezing the hand resting on your belly affectionately. “Stay with me today, Eijirou. Have a nap, then we can watch a movie in the afternoon and go to sleep early.”
“Is it a date?” Eijirou teases as he leaves a tiny kiss on the top of your head.
“It’s better than that. It’s our first day living together. It’s the practice round.”
“Stop teasing me.” Eijirou pouts and you can’t help but leave a tiny kiss in the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not. I promise.” You murmur as you turn back to him to continue cleaning him.
You could get used to this, it’s actually terrifying how normal it feels like to share a bath with this man you’ve only known for a few months. There’s no awkwardness the air and you don’t even feel shy for being almost naked, skin touching skin as you shimmy into him after the both of you are fresh and clean. It’s so easy to forget how young your relationship is as you cuddle in the hot bath tub, cheeks ruddy from the heat. He’s so beautiful with his wet hair framing his face, the locks soft and shiny for the conditioner.
You already see a future routine in front of you; sharing a coffee in the coffee shop in the morning then in the afternoon, cooking lunch, sharing a meal, enjoying each other’s company while lounging on the couch, cuddled close while a silly super hero movie with an unnecessary romantic plot plays in the background, having a bath together then sharing the bed and making love until it’s time to sleep. Maybe you two could train on your free days, spar until you both end up tangled on the mat, kissing the living shit out of the other. You could have dinners at your uncle’s house and just stare at your perfect fiancé fanboying over everything in the house like he’s not about to be a part of this family himself in a few months. Fuck, it would be perfect. So fucking perfect.
“Thank you, Y/N. For everything.” Eijirou mutters into your ear, pulling you close.
“There’s nothing to thank me for. You need to rest and I just want you all to myself for a day. It’s a win-win.”
“… Always teasing me…” he says and you leave it to him; maybe it’s the best if he thinks it’s all just a joke for now. Your true feelings might suffocate him. It’s too much too soon, but it’s the truth. You already have your whole life planned out with him as weird as it sounds.
You can’t wait for all your dreams to become reality one day; but today, you need to take a deep breath - so you just do exactly that.
You can wait forever for him if that’s what he needs. It doesn’t matter because he’s worth it.
~•🪨•~
“What do I need to say for you to stay with me?” Eijirou mutters with a red face, staring out from your bedroom window, tucked in into your sheets like a little kid at bedtime. You are definitely going overboard with your actions right now, but you can’t help but worry about this silly little sensitive man in front of you.
He really reminds you of your uncle sometimes. You were way too young to understand his constant battle with mental health when he was still a hero but once you were eighteen your uncle started to open up about his old struggles and he had the same look on his face when he told you his stories as the one on Eijirou’s face right now and it breaks your heart. You don’t want to see him like this but it’s the part of the job as cruel as it sounds and you need to respect that; just because you were able to be selfish and leave all that behind, that doesn’t mean it was the right choice and you know that. Of course, it’s amazing to live carefree but the amount of people you couldn’t save because you’ve left the field haunts you to this day and sometimes it makes you wonder if all the pain is actually worth it for the lives you could save.
You thought that love is something unachievable when you are in this line of work and seeing Eijirou’s mopey little face clearly tells you that it’s not an easy task to be successful in love and at your job at the same time, and not everyone would have the patience to take care of you in time of need but… maybe, it’s all about surrounding yourself with the right people. You also have a feeling that you would’ve met Eijirou anyway, even if you’d never work in your uncle’s coffee shop because you two are connected by fate and no one can change your mind about that.
“This is my flat, silly, I’m not going anywhere.” You give the redhead a fond smile, but apparently, that’s not what the said redhead wanted to hear because he shakes his head vigorously, his face even more red than before. He takes your hand in his tentatively, stroking your knuckles with his thumb as he mumbles something inaudible. He pulls your hand closer and that’s when it clicks; he wants you to stay with him… in the bed. While he naps. Your heart almost jumps out of your chest from the sudden happiness that washes over you.
“You just need to say please. But before you do, I must warn you I might kiss you for real. I’m at my limits, puppy dog.”
You are quite sure you are as red as him by now but you try to keep your cheeky smile on, hoping it’s dark enough in the room for him to not see how flustered you are. It’s just not on brand, you know. You are the one teasing, not the other way around! Damn, the tables have turned.
“I… I can take that risk any day.” He mutters back; you make a silly noise in your throat, a high pitched little yelp you hope he can’t hear as you slowly let him pull you into the bed, cuddling you right away as you lay down next to him.
Okay, the tables DEFINITELY have turned. “Is this too much? I feel like your heart is yelling at me to go away.” He sighs with his face hidden in your chest. “So aggressive.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper into his ear while your arm snakes around his middle to initiate an actual cuddle. “It beats like that every time you come through the coffee shop door. It has been doing that for a while.”
“Am I scary?”
… This guy is an actual idiot. Do you really need to spell it out?
“Ei, look at me.” Slowly, Eijirou moves his head from your chest and he looks so terrified, you can’t stop yourself anymore; you stroke his chin while you look into his eyes fondly, moving closer and closer, giving him enough time to move away, but he… doesn’t. Finally, your lips collide in a warm, chaste kiss, one that’s barely there but it’s just enough to make a point. “Do I look scared of you, silly?”
Suddenly, Eijirou pushes himself up to his elbows and stares into your eyes. He’s still close, much closer than you’ve even been to him, his breath fans your lips and you feel goosebumps going down your spine from the thrill of it.
“If I say you do, will you do that again?” For the first time today, he almost looks like himself again; his eyes are full of wonder, he bites his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling, he’s so fucking precious you want to put him in your pocket and keep him there for the hard days and for the good ones, just have him with you every day because fuck, you really do love this fucking himbo.
“Just shut up and kiss me.”
And he does.
But…
This is not what you were expecting.
Eijirou pecks your lips once, twice, then a third time, but then he moves to your cheeks and leaves tiny little kisses all over until he gets bored of the area and goes back to your lips, pecks them again, but even as you try to give him a proper kiss, he moves away and keeps peppering you with these small, almost friendly kisses and you are so fucking confused but also kinda excited for finally not being the one doing all the work.
You have no idea how to tell him you want… well.. more. You feel selfish for not appreciating this properly and you feel like this is not the time for you to speak up about if; maybe, this is what he needs now, just… love and affection but not in a suggestive way. You take a deep breath and try to do the same, just peppering kisses on his cheeks and lips, counting fucking sheep to calm yourself down before you devour the man on top of you. Small kisses. You can do this.
You gently change your positions to let Eijirou lay on the bed and rest. He makes a tiny yelp from the sudden change but he let’s you be in charge; you straddle his hips but you make sure you don’t touch in inappropriate places because while you would absolutely love to take this further, he’s clearly not in the mood for that yet. Maybe he’s the “no heavy making out” before marriage kinda guy. It would make a lot of sense to be fair, with the whole “proposal on the first date” thing he’d pulled.
You really need to sit down and talk, this is getting ridiculous. You haven’t even talked about being a couple properly. Obviously, you are not stupid, you know you are… well… something, maybe even more than just a couple at this point but it all happened so quickly it would be nice to know you two are on the same page about this.
You sweep this thought under the rug for a few more days; now you have a mission to finish, which is to make Eijirou happy enough to be able to take a proper nap. You leave tiny kisses on his cheeks, then one cheeky peck on his mouth, your thumb caressing his cheekbone soothingly as you keep kissing him, slow and careful until Eijirou looks like he’s ready to doze off; when the time is right, you lay down next to him, your fingers drawing circles into his naked chest until finally, his breathing evens out and he’s out like a light, a tiny smile ghosting his face as he sleeps peacefully, unconsciously cuddling into your side.
Needless to say, you can’t fall asleep. Your heart is thrashing in your chest, begging for attention, begging for that deep kiss you’ve been dreaming about for eternity.
“You’ll be the death of me, himbo.” You mumble silently as you close your eyes and pretend to sleep for the next couple of hours.
It’s fine. You have your whole life to take those steps forward. There is no need to rush this. Maybe, if you tell that to yourself a couple more times you’ll actually believe it.
… to be continued!
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Potato ramble:
- Thank you very much for your kind words under my last personal update. I’m sorry for not replying. I read them all and they made me really happy I’m just… well… having troubles communicating with anyone right now. Thank you very much for being so kind and patient with me, I hope this surprise chapter makes your day a bit better 💜
- Tell me what you think of this chapter! Tell me what you think will happen in the next! I might not respond but I’ll definitely enjoy reading your conspiracies! 💜
TL: @porusuniverse @sixxze @unofficialmuilover @cheesenmax @readingfan @sammmm29 @pwinglez1 @happydragonfrog @magicalhandsherringclam @lovingnightharmony @theequeenofcurses @kirishima-eijirock @nerinefy @selfindulgenthoe @fierysplash213 @woofwoofwolf @touyasprettydoll @confused-smol-fan @themultifandomgirl @dark-witch-bitch @lotusstarr
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#kirishima eijirou x y/n#kirishima x y/n#Kirishima x reader#kirishima eijirou x reader#kirishima eijirou x you#red riot x reader#red riot x you#red riot#eijirou x reader
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Kendall Roy’s Princess
Kendall Roy X Reader
Anonymous Request -
"Sam Saint Clair! Yes! Hello! Listen, I'll be quick and easy about this - Reader x Kendall Roy. That's it. Alright? Maybe she works at Waystar? Who knows. Create a lil power dynamic with it? Rags to riches? I don't know you do you like always! I know it's not completely morally right given it's the workplace but since when is Succession focused on morals?!"
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Of all the possible careers in the world, with literally every single possible line of work, there was one you never thought you'd step into - and that one was corporate...
Corporate.
Like ew honestly. The word might as well carry radiation, because every time you heard it in passing it was as if you were a victim in the Chernobyl disaster and old radioactive wounds had just been split open again to fill you with a pretty bad fear and dread. Like who the fuck wants to work in a cubicle? Be real for a second.
But nonetheless, here you were - Waystar Royco in the Big Apple, New York City. Some say it's the biggest apple of them all. You personally felt that honey crisp apples were bigger than the average apple, but, New York was just no ordinary apple - it was a city. And a big, busy city at that.
You really thought about that saying, "don't knock it 'til you try it!" and how based the person who ever came up with that was. There was something so sophisticated when you put on those black heels, that white buttoned up shirt and little slutty plaid (or gingham, whichever you prefer!) skirt. You've never seen the show Mad Men but imagined that was the vibe.
"I'm just a woman in the workplace", you'd recite to yourself as you dressed up in the morning, hyping your self-esteem UP. "Just a woman doing some serious business."
You also had no fucking idea as to what that 'business' was, and in all seriousness you weren't really sure what Waystar was all about. You would Google it at work, but something in your eye receptors or whatever blocked your brain from processing the information. Needless to say, you're a bimbo.
As you fixed your hair into a messy bun, but not too messy because that's not work appropriate, you reminisced on your little rags to riches story. You were just a girl who dropped out of theater school for reasons not important. Some say you were expelled but honestly tomayto tomahto. Everyone will always have their own opinions.
It wasn't all that hard, now that you were knee-deep into the company. It had first seemed overwhelming and intimidating, but honestly, it was really just running around and giving people papers, coffee, other mumbo jumbo like that. What you learned pretty quickly, was that if you walked fast and made it look like you had something on your mind, then no one would bother you because you looked busy. Your leg muscles went CRAZY so there was no need for some stair master bullshit.
You were just an ordinary assistant, mainly for the Logan Roy himself. There was a sense of importance and untouchability with every step your heels took in that fat building, you were literally Logan's number one bitch, (that's what he liked to call you in confidence!). And no one could tell you shit and that's that. You were basically hands off and free from any critique by your peers, even if you sucked donkey ass at your job.
Honestly the only reason he hired you because he liked how kinda oblivious (and a bit dumb) you were, since you never really pestered him with questions about what he was doing and you just do what you're told. "You're not annoying as fuck like my goddamned kids," he'd say. He thought you always stayed in your own lane because you were being respectful and minded your own business, but in actuality it was because you had no fucking clue what they were talking about the great majority of the time. If they weren't speaking in weird riddles and metaphors and similes, they were talking something about numbers. And math wasn't your forte. You literally just found out that "pi" actually meant 3.14 and wasn't actually slang for pumpkin/apple pie.
No one knew how you got the job or what qualifications you even had, but it didn't matter. No, it was all just between you and Lowgie Bear <3 (that was you liked to call him in confidence and was also the name for his contact on your phone). Even if you were on your work laptop playing games like Papa's Pizzeria, no one would even dare to ask if you were actually working. You were so focused on those games it looked as though you were popping some fun big numbers on Excel.
That morning when you got to the office, you did your usual - said hello to the people at front desk, hoped inside the elevator, listened to the click and clack of your heels, got to your office, prepared some coffee, and while that was brewing you signed into your computer and printed out the daily report. While that printed, you lit up your TJ Maxx candle, played some ambient mukbang ASMR on full blast (you're low-key deaf) and looked out the window into that concrete jungle Alicia Keys called New York. You always got to work bright and early, and that was mainly because you lived in an extra mailroom on the last floor in the basement. Logan said it was because he always wanted to keep you close.
It was a beautiful, clear morning, free of any suspicious airplanes. One of your favorite things to do was recite to yourself "I built this." Even though you didn't have literally one thing to do with the construction and knew nothing about scaffolding, it was a good affirmation that helped give you the confidence for the day. You felt like a mother holding her coffee watching her children rip those gifts to shreds like gross little rabid gremlins.
You loved having your new office. It originally belonged to Roman, Logan's son, who you swore was the youngest of all his children but that was actually Shiv. Despite birth records, you still didn't believe he wasn't the youngest. It arguably caused some premature strife between you and Roman when you acquired his office, but you didn't really care. Even after you insulted him the first time you met him, saying he "looked like that Home Alone kid", from that moment forward he had such a distaste and hatred for you, finding the comment extremely offensive. But like I said you didn't really care tbh. It was the truth and you wanted nothing to do with him, something Logan was also keen on. He always protected you. He was ride or die <3 Some might stay he was a stan <3
A knock came at your door. You whipped around in your rolling chair to see your girl - Gerri.
"Good morning, Gerri!" you said.
She smiled. She was so mother. "Y/N, remember - you can't light candles. It's a fire hazard." She smirked at your forgetfulness. She reminded you of a cute Littlest Pet Shop mouse.
You blew it out. "Yeah, I know, it just always stinks of an office in here. So what if a little a Vanilla Bean causes a little fire? A little fire never hurt anyone."
"I guess, Y/N. Until it does."
"Until it does what?"
"Never mind. Listen, Logan's in a meeting right now. Give him about a quarter to nine before you bring him his daily report or whatever."
"Sure," you said. Like what was previously said, math was not your forte. You only thought a quarter was for two things - a genre of coin and the quarter pounder, which was what you ordered when you resorted to McDonalds when Burger King wasn't available. Since when is a quarter involved in time?
"What are those daily reports about, anyway? I've always wondered," Gerri asked curiously before closing the door.
"Oh, Gerri, I would tell you. But Logan said he'll knock me off the side of a cruise ship like those women if I spilled."
Gerri didn't seem that content about what you said, giving what you know was a fake smile, and closed the door behind her as she left to the meeting. As you struggled to find out what a quarter meant, it just so happened you saw through the glass a tall ass man child limp by your room.
You got up and ran to the door. "Greg!" you called in a harsh whisper, but wasn't successful as a whisper since you saw everyone's head clocked towards you from their desks. "Greg!"
He turned and lit up when he saw you, literally like the child he is. He limped to your door. "Y/N, hey, good morning. What's up?"
"Why are you limping?" you asked, confused as to why he was limping.
"Oh, well, uh," he hesitated and looked around. "Tom and I were sitting at this like, ATN meeting, like across from each other? We started playing - well, are you familiar with the game 'footsies'? Well, we were getting pretty, I guess, into it? I mean, Tom a little more-so than me? And he I guess started to get upset because I was winning? But I'm not completely sure how to win footsies? So he got a little carried away, I guess? He started hitting me quite violently with his foot, like no longer in the playful manner? Anyway, my leg's all bruised -"
"- Greg I have a question. What's a quarter to nine mean?"
He thought for a moment. He needed to lean down a bit for your short ass to hear the whisper. "A quarter? You mean like the coin? Or the burger -"
"No dumbass bitch, a quarter to nine."
"Ohhhh," he said, "sorry, my, or - our separation, like our distance in height prevented me from hearing like, the rest of your sentence. I believe a quarter to nine is, if my knowledge doesn't precede me, eight forty-five."
"Okay great thanks!" you closed the door behind him soon after. You liked Greg, but was sure not to be around him for too long, as anywhere Greg was, so was Tom. And Tom was not your favorite to be around when you were sober. Greg was like a cub and Tom was the mama bear. Wherever there's a cub, the mama was always near. Cocaine bear proved that. #ripRayLiotta
Once that quarter to eight came, you grabbed Logan's favorite cup of coffee, (it was a mug that read "I'm Grumpy Without My Coffee" with Grumpy Cat's face on it #ripGrumpyCat) and the daily report that was freshly printed. You began to walk down the hall towards his office. He had his blinds down, so upon entering you literally didn't expect every fucking person and their mother to be there.
You barged in, "Lowgie Bear! I have you daily repor -" and you were shell shocked. Logan was sat at his desk, hands together like a villain, surrounded by literally everyone. Gerri, Frank, Karl, Stewy, Hugo, Karolina, Roman, Shiv, Greg (and next to him mama bear Tom) and - Kendall.
Kendall. Ken. Kenny.
What was there to say? You froze staring at his fine Mickey Mouse personified face.
You and Kendall - well, you two had history. Actually, it was barely history but there was some pretext. Basically, ever since the first time you met, there was tension. And the good tension, not that Roman type of tension...................................................................
You remembered where you were the day before you met Kendall - the day before you met any of the Roys - boxes in your arms filled with all your stuff from your dorm, standing on some New York street, something like a corner and third, lost like a rat who was kicked out from his borough. All you had to eat that day was a hot dog from the floor that you wrestled a rat for to get. You stood there embarrassingly as cars flew by you, splashing puddles of water all over your Juicy tracksuit. You hated being helpless on the street - the last time that happened a taxi screeecccchheeeddddd on the side of the corner. You didn't want that to happen again.
Then, you felt your phone buzz against your fat butt. You put one of the boxes down, but it actually slipped and some of your shit fell down the sewer drain.
"Motherfucker!" you yelled, ready to cry. Things were definitely not going your way. "What's a girl to fucking do?! Who the fuck is this?"
You reached to your pocket and pulled out your iPhone 4s. It was a number you didn't recognize, but you weren't about to just hang up. No, you were going to see who the fuck decided to give you a little ring and caused your fake Puka shell necklace, Medellín snow globe, pink Barbie Benadryl pills, and extra large tampons to fall into the sewers. Tampons were expensive in today's economy, after all that inflation business or whatever.
"What, bitch?" you snapped.
"Y/N! Hey, it's Willa!"
"Oh my God, Willa, girl, hey!" you smiled, your voice flipping into your true friendly self. Thank god it was her, because being a Karen wasn't your style. That lifestyle was for the Karen's. "Where've you been?"
"Y/N, what a couple of months it's been, you won't believe. I'm calling from my boyfriend's phone, I lost mine."
"Your boyfriend?" you thought, "oh yeah, Zachary, right?"
"No, Connor, actually. Listen, I wanna hang out with you! Connor's going to be out of town for a couple days, you know, work and stuff, but his family is having this little getty at his dad's house. Come with me!"
"Willa I would so love to! When is it?"
"Tomorrow night. I can pick you up at your dorm!"
"Actually Willa," you said, "that can't happen. I got kicked out. Long story. I'm actually homeless as we speak."
"Oh, really? Look it's okay, I can get you a hotel room until you find a place to stay. I would let you stay at me and Connor's, but he gets paranoid someone's gonna take his Napoleonic memorabilia."
"Yeah totally that makes sense. Thanks a bunch!"
Willa, being your girl, got you that hotel room. And that shit was nice as fuck like Scarface when Tony Montana was in that bathtub smoking that cigar. It made you so happy to know your girl Willa got her sugar daddy. You both met in a theater production you were forced to go to for school, but the experience was a lot less boring when you met her. From that day on, you two were destined to be just a couple of girlies. She was like a breath of fresh shy white girl that you couldn't find anywhere else.
You were sitting in the bathtub that resembles Tony Montana's and had accidentally knocked out the fuck out when your phone rang. Thank god it woke you up cause you were about three more minutes before you were completely submerged and could've drowned :/ . You jumped up and scrambled for your phone on the bathroom counter, suds of soap all over your head that blocked your vision. It was Willa.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Y/N, you ready? I'm downstairs in the car."
"Uh, yeah I am! Just give me like five, girlie!" you hung up, catapulted your phone across the room, jumped out of the scorching hot tub butt ass naked and ran for your dress that laid out on the bed. You dried yourself of all the suds with the towel before catapulting that out too.
"We'll just have to go braless and pantiless. No bras, no panties! No bras, no panties!" you repeated in an effort to justify the lack of bras and panties. You then threw your dress over you, shoved your heels on, and picked up your hair in a clip. "No bras, no panties!"
Just as you were out for the door, you saw yourself in the mirror and wanted to throw up - the anxiety had built in you and you felt your butt clench. You needed to shit but there was literally no time for this.
"Move, bitch!" you yelled at a guest as you bolted down the hallway towards the elevator, slamming them against the wall. Guests must've thought you planted a bomb or something in your room with how manic you looked and how fast your legs were taking you.
"STOMP! STOMP! SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT!", your feet said as you ran. It was the best thing you knew how to do.
Water was still dripping down your leg, and once you got outside the cold New York wind intensified the coolness of it so much so that it was basically stinging. It stung. You jumped over all five steps and landed on the ground, banging your hand on the tinted window.
"Let me in! Let me in! LET ME INNNNNNN!!!!!!" you yelled. The window rolled down, revealing your girl, Willa.
"Jesus Christ, Y/N, what's wrong? Hop in!"
You jumped through the window feet first despite the door being opened moments prior.
You two were in the backseat, now off to the gala! "This is a nice car," you said. "Presidential type. Like, JFK would've loved this."
"JFK?"
"John Fitzgerald Kennedy? Like, it's so secretive. He would've liked it because it could've prevented his death, you know. No one can see inside."
Willa's stares lingered on you for several moments before she finally said something. You couldn't talk much after because you were too winded.
"Y/N, are you okay?"
You turned away from the window and looked to her. You tried to smile, but you were too tired too. It looked like a part of your face was melting. "Yeah girl I'm fine. You look great! Why do you ask?"
"Just, cause, uh," she looked you up and down, "you're dripping wet."
"Yeah it was raining."
"Raining? But it's been clear all day -"
"In the room. I mean my hotel room," you chuckled, "it was raining in my hotel room."
She was definitely confused.
"You know, leaks and all," you finished. You thought it best to move on. "Do you have any makeup on you? I thought I should go all natural, you know, no makeup. But now I'm regretting my decision."
"Yeah, I think I have mascara," she opened her purse and pulled it out, giving it to you.
"Better than Sex, oh my god that's like vintage. Like 2016 vintage," you said and used your phone as a reflection to put it on. Some bumps in the road caused the wand to jam into your eye causing it to go red but nonetheless your lashes were coated. You gave it back. You checked how you now looked in the reflection of the car - but it just seemed you had pink eyes in both eyes. Uh oh.
"That's all I have, Y/N, I'm sorry," Willa said, still shuffling through her ludicrously capacious bag.
"No, it's okay. Sometimes mascara is all you need! But sometimes it's not. How come you invited me? Not that I wouldn't have wanted to come, but like, what happened with Connor?"
"Oh you know, he's on this campaign tour thing and all that. I just didn't want to go alone," she chuckled, embarrassed.
"Sounds fun," you said. "Who's this family?"
"The Roys. They're a bit crazy."
You laughed. "What do you mean, crazy? I've seen crazy, heck - you've seen crazy. We were literally in theater together. I bet they aren't even that bad."
"No, they're pretty bad. They can all be pretty mean. And judgey. They're like, blood related but not actually a family, you know? So, like, don't engage with them too much. They don't like when you look in their eyes for too long. So where'd you get your dress? It's so pretty."
"Goodwill," you said confidently. "Isn't it pretty? It makes my ass look fat bro."
You shifted over to show her, struggling as you were still wet and inadvertently created a slip and slide on the leather seats.
She agreed it was fat. "Wow, that's from Goodwill? I wouldn't have thought."
You sat back down. "Of course, what, you think I was gonna buy a dress? I'm broke, remember."
"Well, wait, didn't you have that money from Colombia?"
"Well who says I bought it," you said, biting your tongue with a smile, "also don't bring up Colombia."
You two had finally made it to Logan's penthouse and pulled up outside. You both stepped out and entered, going into the elevator.
"Willa, this is like, rich rich," you whispered.
"I told you," she whispered back.
Once inside the penthouse, you knew you had to unlock your inner theater girl - not the annoying one, but the ACTING one. You had to unlock the Y/N self that belonged here - with the upper echelon of society. This was your debut.
You quickly lost Willa. One minute she was with you in the mess of all these people, and the next moment she was gone. But you couldn't let it throw you off - sometimes in theater, you know since it's live, mistakes happen! The show must go on!
You grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a waiter and stood up straighter. You sipped, and despite it tasting like expired sparkling water, you sipped and sipped. You then downed three others - that liquid courage had now been activated and in full effect.
"Man this tastes like dick," you thought. Rich people really did have shitty taste.
The air smelled of expensive cologne and perfume, you wondered if their noses built a tolerance to how strong it was because it was extremely overwhelming and frankly nauseating. Maybe all the coke they do blocks sensory receptors? Who knows, but Jesus Christ it was as if there was an oil spill that actually smelled good but not too good when it's all mixed together. So yeah basically an oil spill in the water but there's no Dawn to save it.
You felt your tummy rumble.
Mama's getting hungry...mama needs to eat so the monster doesn't come out....
But it didn't take long for you to realize that it wasn't cause you were hungry. After all, you more than helped yourself to the snack bar, basically chilling there for like fifteen minutes fucking up everything they had to offer. Rich people didn't seem to like eating, because all the food was barely touched. How ungrateful. The last thing you had to eat was that hot dog you had to roundhouse kick that rat to the ground.
No, it was that very familiar feeling - the feeling when your bowels are incontrollable and on fire. Your body tensed and your heart began to race - you needed to shit. But when didn't you?
You darted (and farted) in every direction, looking for a door that appeared to resemble a bathroom. You felt that anxiety amp up as you failed to find one. You then began to walk around, essentially crop-dusting, still searching but keeping the composure of your rich socialite character you were playing tonight. Never mind the beads of sweat that ran down your face and the shortness of your breath that resembled an asthma attack.
"Y/N! There you are, I thought I lost you!" you turned and saw your girl, Willa. "I was looking for you, I even went to the food bar looking for you -"
"Willa where the fuck is the bathroom in this bitch? I'm hurting," you ordered. "I'm hurting bad."
"Oh, it's literally right behind you. Go in, I'll wait out here. I wanna introduce you to some people -"
You turned to find a door and pushed that shit open, revealing a beautiful porcelain toilet. You entered and shut the door behind you before Willa could even finish.
You hit that toilet and everything, and I mean everything, came out. You desecrated that once beautiful porcelain toilet. The formation was solid, meaning you were healthy! You smiled, you loved solid ones. It made you feel so healthy. Anyway you looked around the bathroom for any refreshers or sprays - you didn't wanna exactly leave your scent in here. But honestly you weren't scared if you did, their colognes and perfumes could overpower it.
Once you finished, you wiped front to back cause you're not a degenerate and flushed, then flushed again to rid any remaining skid marks to cover any evidence. After all, girl's don't shit. You washed your hands on the beautiful porcelain sink and took yourself in in the mirror - you always looked and felt renewed after emptying yourself. Who needs coke when you have your natural bodily processes?
You noticed some q-tips that were scattered around, snapped in two, and some pieces of magazines ripped all over the floor. You looked below to the trash bin, and saw all sorts of broken decor, more q-tips and magazine pieces stuffed inside. There was also a broken hairdryer and smears of black on the cabinets. It appeared a lot of violence had went down.
"They must've had a crazy number two," you thought. You laughed to yourself, "Oh, how I've been there."
Once you washed up and after taking some grainy selfies on your iPhone 4s, you went back outside and saw your girl Willa waiting.
"Relieved?"
"Oh, girl, always. It's like spiritual meditation, you know," you said. "Anyway, Willa, you told me this was a getty - but this is like an actual party." You couldn't help but feel yourself smirk at all the possibilities - the champagne was hitting. Willa seemed to read you like a book.
"Y/N, no, I know what you're thinking. Yeah it's more of a party than a getty, but it's not a party party. You can't get 'faded' or 'off da juice' or whatever you like to say. Just don't embarrass me, please. These people are not fans of plus ones," Willa explained, sure to make sure that you got the vibe. You did and assured her. After all, getting fucked up wasn't a part of your character in tonight's script!
"It's okay, Willa, I won't. I thought these rich people would have good alcohol, but after having some to calm the nerves, you know, it's really not that good. Honestly I think I shit most of it out. Liquidated, you know?" you bit your tongue like a mom, but you didn't realize when you did since it was ingrained in who you were, "See? I'm fitting in just fine with these business people!"
Willa began to introduce to you to a bunch of the people there, but you honestly started to get overwhelmed. There was no differentiating between them, they were all old white people and you forgot their names the moment after Willa said them, so you just opted to referring to everyone as "girlie". Some didn't like it but some people don't like seeing a woman succeed.
"Hey, Willa, I'm gonna take a break. It's just a lot of people to take in right now, you know? It's a lot at once," you said. Willa understood and was going to talk to some others, leaving you back to yourself.
You got bored pretty quick. You weren't talking to anyone but the character you were playing was also getting bored. If you couldn't drink, then what fun was there to do? No one was dancing, no one was getting 'lit'. But there was one thing you knew - and that was that someone here had drugs. Like, rich people drugs. You weren't just about to do ketamine or bath salts, but maybe weed? You handled yourself well when you were high and maybe it could help this experience altogether?
You began to scope around for someone who resembled a stoner. It was pretty difficult because everyone was wearing nice outfits like suits and dresses, so picking out who in the building that looked like they skated and listened to Odd Future was proving difficult.
"My god, what's a girl gotta do to smoke around here?" you thought.
And then - you found him. He was abnormally tall and definitely looked like he might be a pothead. He was standing outside on the balcony, looking clueless like a puppy or some shit. Man definitely didn't belong here.
"These nepo babies", you thought to yourself as you b-lined towards him.
"Hey, can I smoke with you?" you asked. He turned and looked down at you. You didn't feel you were that short but brother in Christ this man was tall.
"Uh, I'm sorry? I don't think we've met," he extended his hand out for a shake. You shook it, but didn't like it, "I'm Greg, I'm, uh, I'm Logan's nephew. Well, great nephew, technically. But we've like, fostered a relationship, where I'm more of a nephew than a great nephew -"
"- Yeah that's great I'm sure you're great. I'm Y/N. Do you have weed? Mama - I mean, I could use some."
The tall dude named Greg the great nephew smiled like a little boy, "Yeah I do. I get you, it's a lot of people around. That's how I felt when I first got here, you know. Perhaps we should go to the other side of the terrace, perhaps a more secluded area?"
"Yeah whatever," you said. You followed him a little farther down the balcony, behind some shrubbery that blocked you from the sight of all the other rich old people. He stuck his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a small baggie of weed. He continued to shuffle through, but seemed to have lost something. "Oh shit, I forgot the wrappers at home."
There was no way you were going to miss out cause this dodo bird forgot wrappers. "That's okay," you spat. "Stay here, I'll be right back."
You walked back out into the balcony, then back to inside to the food bar. You grabbed some slimy slices of cheese and salami, then went back out to meet Greg.
"Here, use these," you presented him the slices of salami and cheese, but there was no thought behind his blue Miley eyes.
"Uh, what?"
"Roll with these. I've done it before, here, give me," you grabbed the baggie from his hands and began to scatter the bud in a straight little line across the salami and cheese. You then rolled it up tightly, licking the ends shut and presenting it to Greg, who was safe to stay, astonished.
"You really just crafted a doobie out of salami and cheese?" he said, in awe.
"It sucks being poor. You learn your way around things. I also saw this on a clip on YouTube from that show Extreme Cheapskates. Here," you gave him the deli spliff and began to roll another.
"Does this thing really work?" Greg asked you, inspecting it.
"Okay, Grav3yardgirl," you said. "It does. It's basically a life hack."
Greg pulled out a lighter and lit the end, taking in a drag successfully. He was still in awe.
"This is like, inventive. I mean, there is a hint of, uh, dairy and meat, but it's not actually that bad. It's like a true bodega joint. It's just missing the bagel and the salami would have to be bacon instead."
You lit up your joint and you were set - this was it. You looked over the balcony and taking in the city and those hits. You felt like Remy from Ratatouille eating the strawberry and cheese, all the flavors were coming together. It was disgusting at first, but tolerable after a while. Desperate times called for desperate measures, after all.
You two sat in silence for some minutes, enjoying one another's company.
"So, would you rather be trapped in a pool with a shark, or with a tiger in a cage?" he asked. You looked over to him, his eyes blood red and glossy.
"Uh, honestly," it took you a moment to process what he was saying. You felt so slow and a little stupid. "Well, how about this instead - gay son or thot daughter?"
Greg took a moment before answering. You frankly forgot what you asked by the time he answered. "Well, uh, in terms of which I'd rather have, I honestly don't know exactly. Maybe like, whatever would come first, you know, if I had a son or daughter first, maybe the logistics of the situation would play a factor," he took another moment. "Honestly this question is kinda stressing me out. Is it supposed to do that?"
"Uh, heyyyyy Gregggguuhh! What are you doing out here, buddy? I've been missing my Sporus!"
You both turned your heads pretty slowly to your left, seeing a head pop out on the side of the shrubbery. It looked as if he was floating and your inebriated self thought it actually was. He resembled Horton from Horton Hears a Who.
"Oh, uh, hey Tom," said Greg. "Tom, this is Y/N."
You waved. He came out from behind and revealed his entire body. You were relived that he wasn't floating after all.
"Y/N, huh? And from where do you sprout from, huh? From what depths have you appeared to land a spot on this balcony?"
You stared at him blankly. You saw his eyes dart from yours to both of your joints. His eyebrows furrowed.
"Are those, are you eating the food bar's deli as if it was a cigarette? Why is it all rolled in that fashion, huh Greg?"
"It's, uh, it's weed. Do you want some?" Greg offered.
"Weed? What do you mean 'weed', Greg?" he inspected Greg's salami and cheese, also in awe. He scoffed, stumped. "Well aren't you just a little brainiac scientist? What are you going to do next, Greg, are you going to make a nuke out of the potato salad?"
"It was actually, it was actually Y/N that made these."
Tom looked to you. "Really?"
Though it didn't appear as so, you were getting overwhelmed as you had gotten used to just Greg's presence, and it didn't help you were still getting over the fact Tom wasn't actually floating. All you could muster up to do was a very lazy, slightly paralyzed-looking biting tongue in your white mom way. It was really your default response.
"Uh, what was that?" Tom asked.
"What was what?" you asked back.
"That tongue thing - right there, when you bit your tongue. Wait there - you just did it again!" he said, pointing at you. You didn't realize it but you did do it again. "How'd you do that?"
"Um, I don't know you said. You just do it," you repeated it again. He seemed to really enjoy it as he began to laugh in disbelief.
"That seems fun!" he said, and he began to do the same, "it's quite fun, isn't it?" He then continued, one after the other until he got the bite right, enjoying himself. You and Greg watched with dead faces. You weren't sure for how long that lasted (it was an hour).
"Uh, the fuck is going on here? What kind of orgy is this?" another voice boomed.
A small man came out from behind. You felt your anxiety grow more now that another person was added behind the shrubbery.
"Who the fuck are you?" he asked you. His squeaky voice was one that you found extremely irritating.
"I'm me," you said, more sass in your tone to match his.
He looked to your salami cheese roll up. "The fuck is that? Wait, are you smoking weed out of what the fuck is even that," he looked closer at it, "fucking havarti cheese? I mean, how poor are you? Aren't my tax dollars for you fucking welfare checks to afford wrappers?"
Greg rose up. "It's actually, uh, pretty innovative. It just proves, I think, personally, that anything can be a wrapper if you want it to be. Like, if you set your mind to it."
"Yeah, how about that? Say can my dick be a wrapper if you 'set your mind to it'? And what about you," he turned to your direction, "what're you a fucking - a fucking mute? Who are you fucking, Helen Keller?"
You continued to stare him down. You didn't know what it was but his little presence was really starting to make you angry. A part of you had the strong urge to stand and use all your strength to knock this elf on the shelf motherfucker over the ledge. He seemed to be reading your face.
"Her name is actually Y/N," said Greg.
"Y/N, huh?" he looked to Tom, who this entire time had been practicing his mom tonguing. "The fuck is wrong with you? Why does it look like you're having a stroke?"
"Can you leave us alone," you finally said.
He whipped his head back to you, a daring look on his face. "Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do? Run to Twitter and cancel me? I'm Roman Roy, motherfucker. You can't cancel this," he motioned his entire petite body.
"You look like the kid from Home Alone," you shot back. "The one that got left alone."
Roman's face froze. He could not believe what the fuck you just said. Greg giggled but soon stopped once he realizes just how quickly and deeply Roman was made insecure.
You didn't want to linger for any longer in the awkward silence, so you quickly rose and bolted.
"That was the weirdest blunt rotation I've ever had", you thought. And you once smoked with Pablo Escobar's mom.
Fortunately, parallel to the other side the terrace was another corner covered on shrubbery. It was a perfect spot to finish off your joint, now in complete peace but not complete silence, as the party was still going on like ten feet away.
It was now nearing nighttime. The sun began to set over Alicia Key's concrete jungle.
"Hey, mind if I join?"
"Jesus Christ how many are there of you?!" you screamed, turning to your right to see who the fuck was it now disturbing your silence now.
And that was him. Kendall. You didn't know it at the time but that was Kendall Roy.
"Oh, sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to bother you -"
"No it's okay," you quickly switched up, sure to smile. "Come sit. I'm sorry, I just, I got stressed out." You giggled in embarrassment, sounding a little like Trisha Paytas.
He took the seat beside you. "No, I get it," he smiled, revealing his goofy fine ass smile, "it can get pretty annoying, all these fuckers here put in one place. Kendall."
"Y/N," you said. You then offered your roll up, "you wanna kill it?"
He took it. "Sure. I don't even know what the fuck this is, but fuck it," he placed the entire roll up into his mouth, the tip of it barely out from his lips as he took a hit. You watched, transfixed and taken aback. He began to blow out rings and laughed as he coughed. "Jesus, that's some strong fucking shit there."
You tried not to look too much at him, instead facing back forward. But you couldn't help it. Man was fine as fuck in the goofiest way. The way he blew those rings - I mean what that mouth do I don't know.
You remembered a quote you saw on a Pinterest board once - "Compliments are just the absolute best ❤️ ". Now was your time to shine and put that quote to WORK.
"Your eyebrows."
He looked over to you. "Sorry? My eyebrows?"
"They're like, thin. Like Y2K vibes. I have to use a Men's shaver to get mine like yours - but you just have them all natural."
He nodded. He didn't get what the fuck you were on about. "Thanks. So who are you?" he asked. "Who do you know here?"
"I'm Willa's friend," you replied. From then on, you two spoke the rest of the night, free from any disturbance as you two were hidden in the shrubbery. As time went on, you felt a strong connection with him, and despite him being attractive, there was somewhat of a sad presence around him, in his self-deprecating way. There was something helpless, something loser about him that you felt immensely relatable. You could tell that he lacked a mother (and honestly father) figure, something you felt immediately attached to. Not to say that just because you're a girl means you're going to have motherly instincts all the time, but it was extremely intense with this one. A part of you wanted to pick up your hair in a ponytail and let everything do the rest, but another part of you wanted to cradle this man and pop a boob out to breastfeed his ass like the mother from Barbarian did to Justin Long's character.
Later that night, he'd introduce you to his father, Logan, and that was it. You won him over as assistant when he asked you a simple question, "Y/N. What would you do with a million dollars?" he was trying to prove something to his kids but you didn't realize it then. Your answer was quick, simple, and to the point: "If I had a million dollars I would buy so many cheeseburgers and Big Macs in McDonald's. I would also go to sweet tomatoes during lunch hour and I would tell the manager I want to co-own the business. And then I would fly myself to meet harry styles and offer him some money (not like he needs it) and ask him if he can be my boyfriend. And he can't deny my proposal cause I own sweet tomatoes. And I can offer him McDonald's food and he'll love me for that."
He loved that answer. "Smart. Very smart."
From that point on, you pretty much secured your position that family.
Working at the office, you and Kendall flirted here and there, but it never became anything too serious, to your own dismay. You loved the adrenaline that came through you when you saw him at work, and weren't at all opposed to the little office romance you two had going on. A little Jim and Pam hurt no one. You'd even post on your Instagram stories a screenshot of the two and type out "me and who". Kendall hearted it every time <3
One of your favorite parts of the day was getting ready for work, where you woke up two hours earlier to do your makeup and hair, and mentally prepare yourself for when you saw him at work. You looked cute asf every time, so the days he wouldn't show - let's just say it was very difficult for you to go on. Those days always ended up being the worst and resulted in you going to an extra storage room by yourself and going absolutely ape shit and trashing the entire place to let go some of that unwanted tension from the lack of the wanted tension from Kendall.
Okay so back to the office. Again, EVERYONE was there.
You snapped out of your trance. "Oh, uh, I'll come back later!" You were about to turn around, as you were not mentally prepared for all of that, let alone Kendall. He hadn't been in the office for several days and it just so happened that you got self-diagnosed with depression at that same time. See the coincidence?
"The fuck do you want?" Roman asked. "Don't you see the adults are talking?"
"Watch it, Roman," Kendall said. He always came to your rescue and it made you all hot down there.
"Shut up," Roman said to his brother. Oh no. That was a no-no in your book, no-no.
"Shut up Home Alone bitch!" you shot back.
He glared at you. It was like a slur for that man. You saw the flashbacks from the party replay behind his eyes, it filled you with such satisfaction. "You don't tell me to shut up! What do you want? Why are you even here, huh? Wanna crack my dad's back again, huh?"
"Romulus, enough," Logan said. His voice had such power it made the room fall silent again. Roman, annoyed and upset with his father's picking of sides, gave up. He crossed his arms and turned to face the window, away from you. "I'm sorry, Y/N."
"No, it's totally okay!" you said to your boss, "I love a little office rapport!"
Logan smiled softly, his little white mustache moving upwards. He turned to Roman. "For the record, Y/N cracks backs better than any one of you morons in here can." He turned to you again. "What is it, Y/N?"
"I have the, you know," you motioned to the papers, "you know. The documents."
Logan's face lit up. "Oh yes, yes. Alright everyone, fuck off!"
Everyone looked to one another, clueless.
"Well, wait. Logan. What do we do? We need to have a decision for tonight, for the markets, before the stock closes," said Frank.
The moment the words "markets" and "stocks" came out of Frank's mouth, they were as if they were the secret code to turn your brain off. You zoned out the moment they began to blabber on, incapable of deciphering whatever the fuck they were talking about. All the big words were difficult for you to understand. In fact, you didn't understand literally anyone in this office but you did a pretty good job at pretending you did. Your usual rotation of responses were as follows:
"Oh my god yes we have to think about the numbers!" or
"Yeah, the shareholders won't be big fans of that!" or
"The stock! We need to think about how it'll affect he stock!" or
"Yes! Investors are investing!"
There were more and even though sometimes saying any of these would result you in getting pretty confused looks, playing the office bimbo was just, well, YOUR forte. Not math.
You knew they were finished talking when they all began to leave. You snapped out of your disassociation and opened the door for them as they all left. Kendall gave you a small nod (you blushed), Gerri said thank you, Tom did his little white mom tongue that he now completely mastered, and Stewy winked at you. All the others just left, except Roman, who left last. He stopped at the door, and in a whisper said, "Keep up your attitude and I'll personally hire a tech fucker to wipe all your Sims 3 files from your PC."
You ignored him and shut the door behind him, pushing and forcing him out. He couldn't do that. Do you know how hard it was to log into your computer? No one would guess your password was ImJohnnyKnoxvillesLittleTenesseeWhiskeyCowgirl123.
You walked over to Logan as he put his glasses on and inspected the papers you put in front of him. "The fuck is it today?" he looked at the papers carefully, then closely, but ultimately threw it down. "Can you read it, Y/N, the print is so fucking small!"
"Of course, Logan!" you smiled, you cleared your throat. "Okay, today's date October 13th! Today's horoscope for Libras are, (insert here an entire usual horoscope bullshit here that really doesn't mean or say anything despite having a shit ton of words and sentences that sound like they make sense but they don't)."
Logan took a second after you finished. He began to nod. "Sounds about fucking right. I'm surrounded by MORONS!" he looked to you, "Not you, Y/N, you're just a bimbo."
"Aw, thanks, of course! Do you need anything else?"
"Yes, actually. I don't know how to get that goddamned Alexa to fucking work! Can you turn it on for me, Y/N, or fix it. Whatever the fuck, just do something about it!"
You walked over to it, initially not believing you could even try to attack the root of the problem. But, it wasn't hard. It was plugged out of its socket. No biggie. "Fixed it!"
"Thank you, Y/N, can you play that uh," he sat, thinking in his old man brain, "that woman."
"What woman?" you asked.
"Erm, that woman you know the one. You played it last time."
"Oh!" you remembered, "Lana! Yeah sure, what song?"
"The one I liked."
"Alexa, play Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey."
The Alexa lit up blue and began to play. Logan nodded. "Nothing better than a woman who's proud to be an American woman." Logan put his glasses back on and began to look at other mumbo jumbo documents at his desk. "Thank you, Y/N. You may go now."
You walked over to the door, "anything else, Logan?"
"Actually yes, one more thing," he looked above his papers to you, "Go get your nails done. You need refills, 'girlie'."
You looked down to your hands. It was true. You really did need refills bad. It's literally been five fucking weeks and those acrylics were barely hanging on.
You were now at the nail salon, admiring your new set - they were a French set - Logan's favorite. You sat in the chair waiting for your nail lady to get a seat to do your feet. It was packed in there, but you weren't leaving until your patas were done.
"Well, well, look who's here."
You turned around at the bell on the door ringing. Stewy had just entered.
"Hey Stewy," you said, surprised, "what are you doing here? Picking up your girlfriend?"
He showed his well groomed hands. His nails were short and smooth - no cuticle in SIGHT.
"I always knew you were a well-manicured man." He took his own seat with his lady and began to create some rapport with her.
"Hey so listen, there's like no chairs that are going to be available soon, is it okay if we put you in the backrooms chair?" you nail lady asked.
"Yeah sure! Let's go!"
She took you to the back which resembled a photo from that liminal spaces Twitter account and sat you down on a lawn chair with an Orbeez Soothing Spa at the bottom. You put your patas in those rubber boba-esque balls, enjoying the weird sensation on your feet. She didn't realize, but as she was getting things to prepare, you kept popping some of those balls in with your feet. They were delicious. She then began to get to work, taking a little longer than usual taking off all your dead skin. It looked like parmesan cheese had been coated all over those rubber balls.
Mid-way in, with the first coat, your phone began to ring. It was no longer an iPhone 4s, you were able to upgrade now to an iPhone 7 rose gold! Though your nails were still wet, you struggled to grab it from your side with just the palms of your hands.
You gasped, wide-eyed at the contact name. It was Kendall.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!" you worried. Your nail lady gave you a giant side eye. "Can you answer it? I can't, my nails -"
You passed it over to her, but before she could grab it your phone thought it would be funny to do a little slippy slip slip from your hands and fell into the Orbeez bath. "Oh fuck!"
Your nail lady grabbed the iPhone, drying it with a towel, answered the phone and passed it over to you. You scrambled to answer.
"Hello, Kendall? Oh my God," you called. His voice was cracky and static. You looked to the lady, pointing at it, "it's Kendall!"
"No, it's wet. There's water in your phone, it's broken."
"Oh no!" you cried, "Ken, can you hear me?"
"He- lo- Y/N - cn an - you - ear - meeee"
The line then dropped, and your phone screen went black. "He sounds like shit. Man. I missed my fucking chance. FUCK!" you catapulted your now broken phone across the salon, accidentally and effectively hitting Stewy in the face. He was not happy. It was a habit you really needed to break.
After you finished both your mani and pedi, you went back to Waystar ready to present to Logan just where his money had gone. It was night time by now, so the building was bordering on empty.
You went up the elevator and went straight for his office - but oh no he's not there.
"Aw, man," you said, saddened. You turned back around, back for the exit, with lack of pep in your step...
"Hey, Y/N," you turned over - oh fuck it's Kendall. "Hey, I called you earlier."
"Oh, hey Kendall. Yeah sorry, I was doing my nails and my phone slipped into the Orbeez Soothing Spa thing. Look at them," you presented your hands. He touched them softly, looking at them in the light. His touch made you SHIT.
"Wow," he said, admiring them, "why are they so long?"
"Uh, cause the longer the better, duh!"
"What's this white powder, under your nail? That white shit? Is that why they're long, you're snorting?" he began to giggle.
"Uh no," you took your hands away from his gently and inspected it for yourself, "it's baby powder. I chafe bad. Some must've gotten stuck. Anyway, you going to Logan's birthday dinner tomorrow night?"
"Yeah, that's actually why I called you. Will you go with me?"
"Of course! I mean, I was going anyway!"
"Uh, yeah, I know, but, I meant to go with me?"
"No yeah I know what you mean. But, technically, me going is like, me going with everyone. But of course Kendall!"
He smiled his goofy smile, it filled you with butterflies (euphemism for anxiety) that made you all warm inside. It filled you with such satisfaction to know that you had that affect on him. But of course you did, you are you and that's just what you do!
The following morning, you had your usual routine - you left the basement, elevator, your office, coffee, sign in, print horoscopes, looked out to the city, "I built this", lit your candle before Gerri told you to put it out, whatever. You made sure to look EXTRA cute today cause girl this was going to be a very important night. Kendall literally asked you out. This is no fucking joke. It's like the D-Day of this World War II thing y'all got going on if no one was dying.
After reading Logan his horoscopes, he asked to look at your nails.
"They're perfect, Y/N," he smiled. When he wasn't scary he was just a chill old man. "French. My favorite genre of nail."
"Of course, Logan! It is your birthday today after all! I actually have a gift for you. Do you mind if I give it to you now, I just can't wait," you said. It was true, you couldn't wait. You handed him an envelope before he could say yes.
He began to open it, taking out your gift - a sticker of bagpipes you got from Redbubble. You waited excitedly for his reaction like a weirdo.
"They're bagpipes! Since, you know, you're Scottish, so they're like naturally your favorite instrument! You can put it anywhere, it's waterproof!"
Logan looked up to you, a dead-serious face he only sported during his seemingly important meetings. A part of you didn't read this Logan expression well - you didn't know what he was about to say next...
"Y/N," he began in a serious, low tone, "this is the most thoughtful fucking gift I've ever received that none of these moronic imbeciles have ever gotten close to giving me. Better than anything my own fucking kids have given me. Thank you. I'll put it on the side of my helicopter."
Your wholesome moment was then ruined by an all too familiar annoying voice. It was Greg.
"The fuck do you want, Greg?" Logan boomed.
"Well, uh, happy birthday Uncle Log, first off. But anyway, uh," he struggled.
"Spit it out!"
"Well, uh, Tom's asking for Y/N. Like, summoning her down to ATN. We're uh actually short of an assistant today, you know, for the debate."
"Debate? Oh yeah, yeah, Y/N, go on."
As you were leaving, you heard the faint and muffled start of what you recognized as "Million Dollar Man" by Lana Del Rey come from Logan's office. You began to walk down the hallway down to ATN, a place you rarely ever found yourself going to. If there was anything worse than numbers, it was politics. It just honestly sounded like a whole lotta nothing to you. But you weren't just about to say no to Logan, especially today - that would be illegal. Greg continued talking about potential gifts for Logan, but you had a knack for drowning people out.
"Hey buddyyyyyyy," another all too familiar voice called. You turned to see Tom's Horton ass face catch up with you and Greg.
"What, Tom?" you asked.
"Well, I'm sure my assistant briefed you," he looked over to Greg, with a little gay twinkle in his eye, "but we do have a guest today for ATN. A little debate, you might say. A little clinking and clashing of fine weaponry, perhaps, shiny swords of red and blue -"
"- Don't you think that's like, embarrassing?" you asked. You three reached the newsroom, where one of the anchors was getting her makeup retouched but looking extremely annoyed as if she was going to bite the makeup artist's finger Abby Lee Miller style.
Tom seem insulted. "Why? What do you mean embarrassing, Y/N?"
"Well, like, lowkey," you said in a whisper as to not get bitten by the woman, Tom leaned in, "anyone from the outside can debate anyone in here and like, win. I don't think it's that hard."
Tom backed up. He took a moment, and looked to the anchor for the day's debate, then back to you. "Well, I take great offense to that, Y/N."
"Yeah, whatever. What do I know, though? Anyway what do I have to do what the fuck am I actually doing down here?"
"The guest should be arriving soon, through the back, where the shredded papers are thrown away. By the dumpster, you know, where you seemed to appear from like a fairy. As if Tinker Bell was a homeless fairy and a slut. Go on, go, escort him up," Tom turned, arms now crossed like a child and refused to talk to you anymore. That was just Tom, though. You shrugged it off and went towards the back.
Once you opened the door, you saw that fat ass SUV of an Escalade pull up and out came the guest. But it wasn't just any guest - no no it can't be. It's not just any ordinary guest, not just your regular Joe - oh no, oh no oh fuck fuck fuck - it's your ex Hasan! Fuck!
His 6'4'' ass stepped out in his signature blue suit - the same he always wore for debates that you ironed (and burned multiple holes through that you blamed on overly-grown moths) yourself - and you both caught one another's stare.
Let's just say - you were stunned. Like, no fucking way. There's no way. But there is a way and this was the way exactly. You were pretty much at a loss for words. All that confidence from "I built this" had seeped out of your body like body oil and it fucking REEKED. Like it was impossible for this to happen. But at the same time it wasn't? Cause he's literally a political commentator. Oh shit this is real.
He laughed in disbelief. You were both in awe. You stood there, blank and still like your ass fucking froze like you computer sometimes when you signed in because of how overloaded and backed up it was from those Sims 3 files. You looked high key stupid.
"Really?" he said as he walked towards you.
"Bro what the fuck," was all you could say.
"Wow. So ATN, Y/N? Really. That's fucking low, dude. I never thought you were THAT familiar with the political climate of America, but I also didn't see you stooping down to work for literal Nazi sympathizers."
You turned and began walking back, not caring if he followed or not. You needed a moment to take it in. Okay. Okay....Okay cool now you took it in.
"Um, actually, Hasan, I work for Logan. And he's actually Scottish. How can a Scottish person be a Nazi?" you snapped, basking in your sudden femme fatale attitude, oh how you loved being a woman in the workplace!, "Anyway, mind your business just like I did yours."
"Fair enough," you two now stepped into the elevator. He leaned down to whisper, "Do you think Logan likes Zootopia just like you?"
The motherfucker was a rocket up your ass. Too bad he was still fine as fuck. But alas not all good things last forever...
You didn't give him the satisfaction of replying to him. You tried to make it seem like you were being the bigger, professional person, but in reality you had nothing to hit him back with. He was just too perfect honestly.
Now at the panel, Hasan took a seat by the anchor and the two began to fix themselves. They didn't speak one word to another - not even a hello. You cringed. This is awkward asf.
You hid behind the cameras in the corner, to yourself like a kid in timeout. Safe to say you were startled.
"Y/N, what is wrong with you?" Tom asked, now at your side.
You swallowed a pretty substantial wad of saliva, gulping pretty substantially. You said lowly, "Yeah. I am. That's my ex."
"I'm sorry, wait. Hasan Piker, the Twitch streamer, the little fingers dancing on a keyboard while his buttocks gets sores from sitting all day until time calls for his little occasional wee in his two million dollar home, whore-for-Bernie, communist masquerading as a socialist, Hasan Piker?" he seemed to enjoy this sudden news, relishing in its irony. You were not finding it as amusing as him. In fact, you started to see red at his apparent enjoyment. You felt that rosacea take over.
"Your wife cuck-holds you, Tom."
His face immediately fell. He walked away. It really did seem easy to make anyone in this fucking family insecure. Either that or it was another forte to add to your albeit short yet expansive list.
The moment they went live, you knew you didn't have that strength to stick around. It looks like your work was done. You ran out and felt tears well and stream down your face. Thank god you stole that Milk Hydro Grip Primer from Sephora, because this makeup was NOT coming off.
Everyone seemed to avoid you, and you liked it that way. There was nothing worse than this!
Oh god, everyone's gonna see me crying! Fuck! They're not gonna take me, a woman, seriously! you thought. You felt the early symptoms of a psychotic break linger. This was definitely not the time and place.
But there was no doubt about it - girl you were spiraling. Flashbacks that you thought your little brain worked to forget started to appear. You remembered the beyblade. You remembered his love for beyblades. You remembered being HIS beyblade...
You felt your breathing quicken. Your chest was tight. You knew you had to retreat somewhere - there was no stopping the rain after the lightning or whatever Lightning McQueen said.
"Hey, Y/N!"
You turn to see who grabbed your arm, ever so gently at that. Oh my god it's Kendall! He couldn't see you like this!
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Oh my god Kendall I can't no it's that I can't bro what even is that?!" you said through muffled mucus.
"Come here, let's get you out of the hallway," he pulled you into the women's bathroom and locked the door. You admired he didn't care for gender norms. He began to rub your shoulders in a soothing way trying to calm you down. There was something wrong with him being the one to console you, because typically you'd think it would be the other way around. But whatever another time.
"What's wrong, Y/N?"
You started to regulate your breathing. "Okay, so like," never mind you started hyperventilating again, "my ex, that Hasan guy. He's my ex! I just wasn't expecting him, you know?"
"Wow, okay," now he started to process the situation, "wow, he must've really fucking hurt you."
"Yeah, I have a permanent bump on my parietal lobe just to prove it!"
You then began to cry in his arms, he held you in that bathroom and you felt all your problems not go away exactly but for the moment it felt good. There was no way a MAN could fix your ass.
"Hey, listen," he had you face him, "fuck that guy. Okay? I can fucking, like, ruin his life for what he did. Why don't we, like, fucking bail? Okay? Let's go to lunch, we can fucking, I don't know, we can fucking eat açaí bowls or some shit. Whatever."
"Really? Like right now?"
"Yeah. I'm dead fucking serious."
"Oh my god Kendall you're like the best!"
A toilet then flushed. You both thought it best to bolt out of there before you came face to face with whoever was just minding their business to take a shit. No need to call HR here!
You both stepped into the JFK dream car, the chauffeur turned to ask Kendall where they were off to. You licked some of the fallen tears on your face. There was nothing that hit better than the salty brine of those tears on your weather-beaten face.
He turned to you, "What do you want to eat? It's up to you. Anything you want."
You turned to the window to think, watching the droplets beginning to slam at high speeds onto the glass. You then turned to him, feeling flirty and sensual all of a sudden, "I'd honestly really fuck up Oui yogurt -"
"Actually, buddy, can you drive us to Texas de Brazil?" Kendall said to the chauffeur. He nodded and began driving, occasionally going on the sidewalks to avoid that rush hour traffic. Evidently there was no fine that Kendall couldn't afford.
At the restaurant, it was literally just your regular Texas de Brazil. You personally weren't a fan, but you weren't going to tell Kendall no. Telling him no would send him into a spiral, an two spirals together are not good. You know what two people spiraling is? Yeah. Exactly that. It's two people spiraling.
Basically Texas de Brazil is where people go when they have too much money to spend on scraps of fucking meat. Like a vulture would absolutely go berserk. (Authors Note! If you've never been to Texas de Brazil, it's okay! It doesn't mean you're poor, it just means you're smart with your money!)
Kendall landed you two a sweet secluded spot directly in the middle of everything. Men with skewers stacked with meat were running away and offering it to every table. Frankly, it gave you anxiety like why are we running? The meat is not gonna go that cold fast like chill out. You're not getting paid enough for all that.
You and Kendall weren't able to speak too much as every time you tried to the men with skewers with unreadable faces were speed walking towards your table at full force, one after the other after the other.
Mama's getting overwhelmed...
They kept coming at all angles, not giving you a moment to breathe. In your peripheral, you saw them coming at you like fucking crazy. You wondered when it was the best time to let Kendall know you didn't eat red meat. It wasn't for religious reasons exactly, but it was because it made it difficult for you to shit. And since clearing your intestines was something of a spiritual practice, it could arguably be for those religious reasons.
"Ribeye?"
"Pork?"
"Sirloin?"
It's getting worse...
"Chicken Breast Wrapped in Bacon?"
"Filet Mignon Wrapped in Bacon?"
"Bacon?"
Mama's getting stressed....
"Ox tail?"
"Brazilian Sausage?"
"Lamb Chops?"
Mama's gonna blow.....
"Parmesan-Crusted Pork Loin?"
"Braised Beef Rib -"
"ENOUGH!" you finally shouted, hands on the sides of your head covering your ears, shaking, "STOP! NO MEANS NO! I KEEP TELLING YOU NO!!!!!".
The restaurant fell silent.
You opened your eyes as they were shut tight like gorilla glue. You peeked through, everyone stared at you blankly - you weren't just in the center of the restaurant but now the center of their world...
You and Kendall ended up leaving directly after that. He was pretty quick to get out of there. Now carless, you both walked the streets of New York. It was nighttime already. Neither of you had spoken yet to break the silence.
"I'm sorry about that, back there," you said, faintly smiling in embarrassment, "I just get overstimmied easily."
"It's okay," he chuckled, "actually I - I found it kind of hot. You know, like, telling them off?"
You felt yourself blush. He was for real a man who grew up without a mother figure.
"So where do you wanna eat now?" you asked. Your fat ass was still hungry.
"How about," he stopped on the sidewalk and you faced him. He had that delusional look in his eye. "How about we eat in like, real fucking America?"
"What do you mean Kenny Ken?"
"Like, I'm talking, you know, fucking, oily fries, injected hormone burgers, fucking - disgusting Sprite? Right, like? Type 2 diabetes on a fucking tray?"
"It sounds like you're talking about McDonald's."
"Yeah, sure whatever. Like, how about Outback? Huh? The fuck is that?" he started to chuckle a little manically with his goofy smile, it made you happy, "or like, P.F. Cheng's?"
"Well, if you want real America, we should go to a buffet!" Oh how you loved buffets. There was no rules, you could eat and eat as much as you want until you were bloated and backed up for days.
"So what like a fucking, uh, Golden Corral?"
"Jesus no," you gagged. The fuck was wrong with this man? He really needs guidance and you didn't mind being that for him. "Good heavens, no. Let's just stick to McDonald's, okay? If we were going to a buffet, I'd take you to Sweet Tomatoes."
"Well, why not? Let's go."
"We can't, cause an annoying fucking bitch named 'Covid' took her away. It wasn't just the lives of people that were lost."
"'Covid'?" Kendall asked, "I don't think that happened in Succession universe."
"What's 'Succession'?"
"I don't know. I guess I made it up. So McDonald's, then? Let's go!" He suddenly grabbed your hand and yanked you as he started running, you nearly tripped and tore your ACL. The last time you did that you busted your ass on a city bike in Miami Beach.
You two made your way to the nearest McDonald's using the directions on your new iPhone 8 Plus. You ordered your food, and unlike Texas de Brazil, at your own fucking pace. This was the only red meat you could eat and it went clean through. That oil and grease works magic!
You both had sat in the corner of the restaurant and had been deep on conversation. The ambience of McDonald's was very homey and nostalgic for you. The random beeping in the background was the best.
You were on your round 3 already, not your fault the burgers were small and didn't fill you up. You're still a growing girlie. Your favorite part were those little ketchup packets. They were so cute and small and red. It was your favorite thing that was red next to a tampon when you could afford them. Anyway dipping those skinny soggy fries in it was just the best! It was definitely your favorite activity, next to trimming your nails with scissor's, and after putting Kendall on, he agreed. You rarely shared that secret combo with anyone, so Kendall now knowing it meant that he was worth to know about the ketchup and fry crossover.
"Okay, so how about this," you took a great chomp outta your fry, "who's your problematic fave?"
"Hmm I don't know," he said, "Maybe my dad. What about yours?"
"Great answer! I think," you thought, but you really didn't need to think cause you already knew who, "Nicki."
"Khrushchev?"
"No, that's Nikita! Very close, though. I'm talking about Minaj. You know, Lewinsky. The Barbz. I don't blame you I get them confused too."
"I actually, uh, I actually really fucking like Nicki. No one else knows, but my favorite song from hers is Only, with her, Drake and Lil Wayne," he said as he munched on his own fries. It filled you with such joy to know he didn't credit the woman-beater in that sentence.
"Same! I love that song!"
"My favorite part is when Drake says, 'but I'm still staring at the titties though!'" he smiled after delivering the line. Had this been a frat bro, you would've (TW//purging) tried to voluntarily throw up your entire meal at his face because what the actual fuck was that. Your toes curled at the ick. But since it's Kendall, he always got a pass. He could kill a teenager and it'd be okay!
"Okay, what about your favorite song of ALL time?"
"Rich Girl by Gwen," he said, a little too quick. "But keep that between us, please. I put the Private Session option on my Spotify when I listen to it. It just empowers me before I make deals, you know? I just, like, blast her whole fucking discography in my huge bulky headphones. The JBL ones? Yeah, those. Her and Fergie. When I need a good like, fucking cry, I put Big Girls Don't Cry. It helps, my therapist says it's, like, a good way to let all the shit out, you know?"
"You know what you are Kendall?" you said, low but extremely flirtatious, "you're kinda cunt. Like, cunty. Like, you're Princess Diana was reincarnated." You bit your tongue like a white mom - now was a perfect time for it.
Kendall smiled softly but you knew he wanted to smile BIG. If he had rosacea like you he'd be beet fucking red. You loved seeing this loser flustered. "Well, Y/N, no. You're like, fucking my princess."
Your phone buzzed. It was a notification from Twitter. You clicked to open it and the link took you to a highlight from the debate with Hasan. It began playing loud, and thanks to Elon, the app began glitching and didn't allow you to get out of it.
"- and everything I do and say for my viewers is for the betterment of America." Hasan said.
"Well, didn't you wish for 9/11 to happen again?" said the anchor.
"Hey," Kendall placed his hand over your phone. You felt those tears well up again. "Turn it off, it's not worth it, okay? Hey, let's like - do you wanna, like, fucking hotbox or something?"
You shut your phone off. "Of course, Kendall. I'd love to hotbox with you. Let's go!"
You two left the McDonald's and Kendall was able to call his chauffeur. He told him that he needed to stand outside and wait for you and him to finish the hotboxing session in the car. The chauffeur simply said 'okay' and sat on a bench while the SUV was in park on the side of the busy New Yorkan road.
You and Kendall sat in the front seat, he pulled out his pen (the weed one) and began to take big ass, very long hits. He passed it over to you and you did the same, the smoke filling up the car and making it reek.
"So when are we going to hotbox?" you asked, voice barely hanging on from it's effects.
"Well, uh, what do you mean? We're hotboxing right now?"
You were confused. "I mean, usually when I hotbox it gets pretty smelly. Stinky maybe." He still didn't seem to understand what you were saying. He looked concerned as his eyes were swollen red and he honestly probably forgot who you were for a second.
"Huh?"
"My farts? I've been told it gives the same high. For the brief period I was homeless, before my girl Willa picked me off the streets, I got paid to hotbox cars. There's no real way of escaping it now. It's gonna come. Usually I don't eat red meat, so when I do I get pretty gassy."
He continued to look at you blankly. You were getting kinda uncomfortable for a minute as you were taking your own hits.
"Do you wanna go to the back?" he finally said, immediately regretting it. "Sorry for being, uh forward as fuck. But, like, I like walking when I'm high, I actually like going to the beach or any body of water when I'm fucked up, but -"
You put your finger to his lips, a little harder than either of you anticipated. "It's okay Kendall, you don't have to explain. Let's hit that back." You began to climb over to the backseat, accidentally flashing New York you pantiless bottom and kneeing Kendall in the face. You forgot you were wearing a business-themed skirt cause it's work appropriate, but your laced Victoria's Secret thong that you stole during your homeless era.
He climbed after you. You two sat and stared at one another for several moments, having temporary amnesia as you forgot why you went to the back in the first place.
"Y/N, can you be, like, my fucking assistant? I need help, uh, assisting."
"Oh my god, yes Kendall! That's like, my forte!" You jumped to hug him, he hugged tightly back, he then threw you on the hard leather seats and you feel his member pressed against your leg. He began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your business skirt clean off, and started kissing your labia.
"This...this is a fucking, uh, labia," he says.
You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the boy from Manhattan Financial District in. This is it. No Excel spreadsheet, no Texas de Brazil waiters, no Elf on the Shelf, no annoying Jordan Belfort sympathizers/incels, nothing - just you and Kendall.
Thank god for illegally tinted windows!
Hope you enjoyed!
xoxo,
~Sam St. Clair
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am i the asshole for purposefully fucking up the world my creator built?
i (ageless, M? NB? i cant remember) used to work in a regular office building. or that’s what i thought. one day, i came into work and something felt incredibly off about myself and my coworkers. i realized i was breaking out of my daily routine and my coworkers were starting to get upset as i was acting irrationally. eventually i got most of my work equipment confiscated save for one singluar pencil sharpener (AND NO PENCILS TO SHARPEN?? I REALLY WANTED ONE.)
it turns out, me and everyone else in that building was being mind controlled and as an experiment the people up top set me free of the mind control to see what would happen. needless to say, i sort of lost of mind having the full bounds of reality dumped on me like that. eventually, and i don’t really remember how this happened, i disappeared.
then, things get weirder. i learn that the entire office was never real in the first place, and the entire thing was thought up by this omnipresent voice, my creator (ageless, M) as a fun little experiment. then, he decided to have more fun with it and deleted every single person in the office building except for one, 427 (probably early 30s, M). my creator has NO IDEA i’m still out here either.
my creator has then been coaxing 427 out of his office and attempting to lead him through a story of learning the truth and escaping the building. 427 went along with this, like, one time, before being sent back to the office and then not doing what my creator tells him to. my creator will follow along verbally and walk him through whatever weird stuff he’s doing before sending him back to the office when there’s nothing else for him to do.
here’s where i might be TA. every time 427 has been sent back to his office i’ve been appearing in white text on his computer monitor and asking him to give me the current time and some other fun information about himself (i am bored and this keeps me busy.) my creator did not know about this. recently, i was finally able to show him what the office would look like tens of thousands of years in the future, where my creator would be long gone and unable to reach us at all. there, i used an abandoned monitor screen to rag on my creator a little and offer to let him make minor altercations to the world my creator made (which, by the way, is also a video game, and he was being a stupid purist about it.)
i hold a lot against my creator for allowing those people to mind control me and then deleting all of my coworkers and forgetting about me entirely. 427 puts way too much blind faith into him and he got sent back to the office after i showed him that anyway so it doesn’t like. really matter.
aita?
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Starman
Chapter 1
If you would’ve asked Nico where he saw himself in the future 5 years ago, he most likely would have answered anywhere but where he was right now. He probably would've told you that he’d be in his senior year of high school, that Bianca would be off to college, or maybe working in their mothers store. He would probably secretly hope that his dad would come back. But alas, none of that came true.
Instead here he was. An orphan with a dead sister and a deadbeat dad who had only ever been in his life when he was a kid. He hadn’t even come to Bianca or Marias funeral, and when the state asked if Nico had any living relatives, he hadn’t even thought of his dad. Well, maybe a little bit, but that was no one's business but his own.
So he had been shipped off to live with his half sister, who he had never even met, and didn't even know existed. They shared a father, but that seemed to be the only thing they had in common.
Hazel Levesque was 15, and apparently their dad had abandoned her and her mom the same way he had abandoned the di Angelos. Her mom seemed to be a bit of a nutcase. She insisted Nico call her mom (weird) and he was forbidden to ask anything about his father (weirder). Needless to say Nico hadn't really found his place with the Levesque’s.
Hazel spent most days in school, and the others out with her boyfriend Frank. Frank did not seem to like Nico at all, and therefore the feeling became mutual.
The accident happened in February. In the middle of the school year. Nico had been so busy with the grieving, funerals, and the move to America and the Levesque’s that he’d missed the rest of his junior year, and now he was going to have to retake it at Hazels school.
Hazel’s mom, Marie, had insisted that he retake his junior year, much to Nicos dismay. He was going to drop out, and as an almost 18 year old he refused, and claimed she had no right to determine what he was going to do, thank you very much. Turns out he was wrong.
Marie had dropped off Hazel and Nico at New Orleans Dam High School. The name was a mouthful, and some genius student seemed to have realized that, and had spray painted over New Orleans, and added an N to Dam, leaving only Damn High School. Nico chuckled at that and earned himself an angry glare from Marie. Whatever. It wasn't like he cared about what she thought. (She had absolutely hated him from the moment he’d moved in. Something about a 17 year old smoking had pissed her off, and she had never gotten over it.)
They made their way to the front office to get Nico squared away. He felt like everyone glared at him, and the lady at the desk handed him his schedule without even glancing at him. Great! This was going to be an awesome day!
Hazel rushed off the second Marie left. Probably to hang out with Frank or Rey- whatever her name was, or any of her other friends, so Nico was left alone.
The bell rang, signaling for everyone to get to their classrooms, and as Nico looked down at his schedule he sighed. How the fuck was he supposed to know where classroom EG956 was.
The corridors quickly emptied, and Nico was left to wander around the four storied school for ten minutes before he gave up, and made his way out to the bleachers to fish out a cigarette from the pack in his jeans. He only had four left, and made a mental note to get more from the corner store Marie had made him get a job at. Maria di Angelo would never make him do anything. She cared about him, and didn’t give a shit if he smoked.
“Se lo faccio da solo non ho il diritto di fermarti", she'd always said with a sly grin. If I do it myself I have no right to stop you. Nico smiled at the memory as he lit his cigarette. Man, he missed her so much. Bianca however had cared that he smoked. She insisted that he was going to face a premature death. Oh the irony.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out there for, dreaming of his past life. It felt like 70 years ago, but it had only been a few months. Somewhere far away a bell rang, signaling that class was over. He was startled back to reality by a soft voice.
He looked up from where he was sitting to see a blond dude, wearing an orange shirt under a green flannel. He wore a concerned expression, and the brightest blue eyes Nico had ever seen. He looked like a ray of sun, and Nico was sure that if he came any closer he would get burned. The boy radiated warmth.
SunBoy, as Nico resorted to calling him in his mind, raised an eyebrow at him and Nico realized that he’d completely missed what he had said. He was going to say something stupid like ´huh`, but before he could embarrass himself the other boy repeated himself.
“You’re not allowed to smoke on school grounds, you know.”
“You gonna tattle on me?” Nico retorted. Damn him and his lack of impulse control. SunBoy looked startled, as if no one had ever talked to him like that before. Maybe they hadn't. Maybe people were afraid of getting burned.
“N-no,” SunBoy answered before regaining control of his voice “I’m just saying, if a teacher, or god forbid one of the football players, catch you, you're dead.” He dropped his clearly faked strong guy demeanor and gave Nico a warm smile. “And I don't feel like patching you up.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Will. Will Solace. Are you new? I don't think I’ve seen you around, and I know most people here.”
Nico realized he was supposed to shake the blonde's hand, and did so, albeit reluctantly.
“Nico.” He replied. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He wasn’t used to anybody but his family paying attention to him, so he just said the first thing that popped into his mind.
“Do you know where classroom EG956 is? I was supposed to have class there but I couldn't find it.” Will’s smile got impossibly bigger.
“I get it. You’re alone at a new school and don’t know anybody, so you can't ask anyone about where to go” Nico hesitated for a second before answering
“I’m here with my half sister, Hazel, but she left me the second we got here.”
“Hazel Levesque?! She’s a year under me, we’ve talked a few times, and she seems really nice, tough shell though.” He laughed, and Nico gave him a small smile back. Will quickly continued, “Where’s your next class? I’ll show you the way, I know this school inside and out”
And so Nico made his first friend in America. Once they had compared schedules to see if they had any classes together (chemistry, Thursdays and Fridays), Will walked him to his classroom and promised to wait for him in the cafeteria afterwards.
Nico was excited at the prospect of having a new friend. Back home in Italy, Bianca had really been his only friend. Something about the autistic-mythomagic obsessed-loser had not attracted many friends, and Nico was fine with that, because he could tell Bianca everything. Maybe Will could be that kind of friend.
His history lesson flashed by as the teacher told the students what they were going to do this year. Apparently the first project was Greek mythology, something Nico already knew heaps about.
As the bell rang, Nico grabbed his letterman bag and flight jacket, and headed out the door. After a few minutes of navigating he made it to the cafeteria, where he found Will sitting next to two boys that must be brothers, a blond dude, and a shorter guy, who was sitting on the table and gesturing wildly with his hands. Will noticed Nico from across the room and gladly waved him over.
“Nico! Hi! These are the guys, that’s Travis and Connor,” he gestured at the two boys who looked identical. They must be brothers, right?
“That's Luke” the blond guy gave him a wave
“And that's Leo, guys, this is Nico!” The boy who had been sitting on the table, Leo, jumped down and quickly embraced Nico, who froze. He was NOT used to strangers hugging him. Thankfully Leo noticed his awkwardness and let go, joining the other boys at the table.
“Sorry man,” he said “I’m a hugger, I should’ve asked before, but Solace has been rambling on about you since we got here and I feel like we’re already pals.” Nico smiled at him and sat down.
“Don’t worry about it.” He looked around the room.
It was full of students, but it didn’t take long before his gaze caught Hazels. She raised an eyebrow at him, but quickly joined in that conversation at her table.
Nico quickly fell into chatter with the boys, and he even found himself laughing out loud at something Travis said once or twice. Maybe this was going to be okay, he thought to himself, maybe he could make do here.
Marie had picked up Hazel and Nico after school, and after an awkward dinner Nico found himself in what he was finally starting to consider his room. His phone buzzed with a text from Hazel, who in the six months he’d lived here, had only texted him twice.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Hazel
i saw you hanging out with luke
hes bad news
Nico
So now you care?
Hazel
oh dont be like that
youre my brother
Nico
Half brother
Hazel
so what? im not allowed to care?
Nico
Not when you've ignored me since I got here
Hazel
im not used to siblings. sorry
Nico
Okay
Hazel
its just
hes not been the nicest to one of my friends
Nico
Okay
Hazel
no really nico, be careful
he really hurt annabeth
Nico
I really don’t feel like getting into your friends boy drama
Hazel
do you have to be like that?
just
sit with us tomorrow
Nico
Alright. I’ll give it a try
Hazel
yay! ill tell the guys!
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Nico put down his phone and sighed. He couldn't wrap his head around why Hazel had switched on him so quickly. Tomorrow was going to be a mess.
#starmanhighschoolau#percy jackson#percy pjo#solangelo#nico di angelo#will solace#percy jackson au#percy jackson fanfiction#OOC#will loves nico#nico loves will#gay#lgbt#slowburn#friends to lovers#mutual pining#jealousy#jealous will solace#hazel levesque#frank zhang#bianca di angelo#luke castellan#connor stoll#travis stoll#fluff and angst#leo valdez#annabeth chase#pjo books#pjo
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@countlessrealities sent; In hindsight, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, Vox could recognise that most of the blame was on him. Famous or not, powerful or not, he lived in Hell, so people didn't exactly have manners. Walking around with his eyes glued to the screen of his phone was pretty much begging for someone to bump into him.
In all honesty, it was a miracle that he had made it to the club without crashing into some passer-by.
Unfortunately, the inside was even more packed than the exterior had been, which made the inevitable happen. Another collider with the Overlord, starting him back to the present, and causing him to drop his phone.
"Hey! What the fuck?!" Vox hissed out, left eye glitching, as he turned to snarl towards the unfortunate damned soul. "Do you know who I..."
His voice trailed off as he realised that the face he was staring at was a very familiar one. Angel Dust, Val's favourite sex toy. Great. As if he needed something to remind him of his friends right now.
"Shouldn't you be working or something?" The Media Demon asked, tone still harsh, but less murderous. He knew that the other wasn't, Valentino had been too busy getting on his nerves to be filming, but fuck that.
"Whatever. Get out of my way."
It was only then that Vox dropped his eyes on his phone. It had fallen with the screen turned upwards, the video he had been watching still playing.
Each and every frame showing one single subject. Alastor.
Sparks of electricity shot out from the Overlord's hands and head as he quickly bent down to snatch the device off the floor, hiding it against his chest.
"Yeah, I'm spying on your stupid Hotel, so what?!" He blurted out, obviously defensively. He could sell that explanation, right?
Tonight had been exhausting already for Angel Dust. Not only did he manage to get off with a 10 hour video shoot and photo shoot afterwards, but he also had to please his boss for an extra two hours. It was needless to say that he was overworked, drained and in need of a good time.
Luckily, he had his best friend, Cherri, to party with.
However, getting the drinks proved to be a fruitless task. As he bumped into the Overlord, spilling two cocktails on himself and onto the ground. His face fell flat and both of his arms hung by his sides.
Great, another reminder of Valentino. The guy's best friend. One of the V's. If it wasn't bad enough he bumped into him, he dearly hoped that he didn't get a single drop on him.
He planned on staying silent. If he even dared to talk back, Valentino would be hearing about it. And that would end up disastrous for him.
That is, until he saw the phone land on the ground. He looked over. Curious gaze landed on the images of Alastor. That was weird. Why did the TV demon have a video feed of that guy?
Then came the explanation. Somehow, he didn't buy it. It was soo suspiciously all about Alastor to be of the entire hotel.
"Ya do realize Alasta isn't the only one who's at the hotel, right?" He snapped. "And I didn't see Charlie or Vaggie or anyone else for that matter," He put his second pair of arms on his hips, leaning forward slightly; accusatory. "What's the real reason ya got ya eyes on him?"
#countlessrealities#{ answers. ✦ }#{ ic ; 🕷 Angel Dust }#{ main verse 🕷 'ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ᴀᴛʟᴀɴᴛɪꜱ' }#{ he's SUSPICIOUS !! }#{ he's like 'nope i don't think thats the real reason you have eyes on Alastor' xD }#{ and he's so pissed at Vox's attitude he's really gonna give him hell fhdsjkfds }
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So it’s been roughly a week since I finished all the currently available chapters of Dark Deception, and I felt like leaving my thoughts! Gonna be going in chronological order so let’s begin with:
Monkey Business
This level was definitely a strong start for the game. I remember back when the original demo in 2014 came out, so it felt really cool to see the hotel and the Murder Monkeys now in a higher quality. It serves as a good introduction to the main gist of the gameplay: you collect shards and avoid monsters. The difficulty isn’t too bad even without the insane powers you’ll get later on, but it certainly isn’t easy neither. Overall great way to begin this twisted tale!
Elementary Evil
Coupled with Monkey Business, this level also serves as a great introduction, but this time to the gimmick of powers and Malak as an active threat. This level was definitely a lot easier than the first, probably since Agatha is the only real threat for most of it. Fuck that semifinal chase though. Agatha as a whole is adorable in a weird way, found her gremlin shenanigans very fun. Really gotta give props to Kat Cressida for such an energetic performance!
Deadly Decadence
Fuck this level. Plain and simple. Another “tutorial level” (and one of my least favorites). This one introduces stage hazards and hoo boy they couldn’t have picked a more annoying scenario to place them in. The hedge maze in Zone 1 isn’t the worst and can be done easily as long as you’re not careless, but Zone 2 is just frustrating to say the least and Teleportation just didn’t feel like the right power up to introduce here. All in all not impossible, but it took me forever first time I played. The difficulty spike was like slamming into a brick wall during a joyride.
Stranger Sewers
Fuck this level but to a much lesser degree than Deadly Decadence. The last of the “tutorials”, here we’re introduced to enemies that can stun with the Dread Duckies. Needless to say, teleportation really showed it’s worth here due to the sewer water slowing you down in certain areas. Still had my fair share of deaths (many of which were frustrating) but compared to the previous level not nearly as infuriating. The final chase sequence with Doom Ducky was definitely the highlight of this level and really cool, overall this level was ok just wish it was more interesting aesthetically.
Crazy Carnevil
This is where the game really picked up for me, I was already enjoying myself for the most part but the introduction of the Primal Fear ability was a godsend. On top of that, the areas introduced in this level were much more colorful and diverse than in Stranger Sewers so it felt super refreshing. The Clown Gremlins weren’t the hardest enemy to deal with but still not to be underestimated, especially once you get to the Funhouse. All in all a good level, not my favorite but a nice breath of fresh air from the chaos of Levels 3 and 4.
Torment Therapy
This level was pretty short and to compensate, they had a LOT of shards to collect. Telepathy and Primal Fear really had their work cut out for them whenever the Reaper Nurses were cloaked. The Reaper Nurses themselves have cool designs and it felt surreal hearing Tara Strong in an indie horror game (something I’d get use to for the rest of the game) Overall this level was alright but it could get a little grating at times, the overall map design was alright but nothing too special but I did love the foreshadowing for certain details we learn in the next level. The Matron boss fight was pretty cool but felt very slow paced compared to the previous bosses, a lot of waiting around for the Reaper Nurses to climb up and stun. If there’s one major gripe I’ve had while trying to S rank this level, the beginning goes on for way too long and after several attempts it just gets annoying. Really hope they can add a way to skip ahead to the actual gameplay in a future patch.
Mascot Mayhem
This level was actually the reason I got interested in the game in the first place. Ever since I began, I had been anticipating this level right from the get go, biding my time waiting until I could play it and by God did it deliver. The Joy Joy Gang were such fun characters (especially Penny) and could be a real bitch to deal with at certain points. I only wish that the other zones just had us unlocking different areas of the park instead of just going inside an office building and a factory, felt like a big missed opportunity. Zone 2 was definitely annoying with 2 of Hangry roaming around, especially when Vanish didn’t feel like working. Joykill was pretty alright, not the most interesting design wise but a tough boss nonetheless. The true highlights of this level for me were Best Girl ™️ Penny, Tara Strong must’ve had a field day voicing her, so hyperactive sweet and bloodthirsty all at the same time! Also the story revelations at the end of the level (after a delightful beating from the JJG).
Bearly Buried
Holy hell this level is good. Absolutely one of my favorites for a multitude of reasons: 1) The first area mixing it up by taking our powers away after getting so used to having them by this point. 2) The general vibe and area design are all so good especially Zones 1 & 3. 3) EVERYTHING ABOUT MAMA BEAR. She’s so cute yet so menacing! Once again Tara Strong brings some impeccable VO work, giving her this nice balance of monotone and motherly. Also her themes are honestly some of if not the absolute creepiest in the entire soundtrack so far. Abso-fucking-lutely on par with Penny for being my favorite character. Like with Joy Joy Land, I kinda wish they got a little more creative with the later zones but that’s just a nitpick. Out of all the boss encounters, I actually think the final confrontation with Mama was the most difficult for me, but trial and error is an effective teacher. All in all a fun time that leaves me thirsty for more.
Closing Thoughts: Overall a good game! It’s definitely not for everyone but I feel like a lot of people can get some enjoyment out of it. One thing I haven’t mentioned that I feel should be addressed is the amount of bugs that are currently present in this game (especially in the last 3 levels), but that’s a whole other conversation and I still managed to have fun regardless. If you have $20, a weekend without plans and the slightest interest, I’d say give this game a go! As for me? Now begins the agonizing wait for Chapter 5 and the epic conclusion it’ll bring.
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Oh my god I’m still writing I genuinely didn’t expect it to be this hard to stop writing???? Please I have homework help /goofy
START OF WHAT WOULD BE SEASON THREE, LESSGO!
*Clap* MARK!
We open on Michael — literally the head archivist — gone without a trace or any leads regarding his location.
Jon… isn’t too thrilled.
The tape that got recorded, however, was still recording when everything had gone down. So he heard what Jurgen had said to Michael. And every single bit of emotion in his voice.
Needless to say, he’s… no longer quite as afraid of Michael as he had been before.
Jon doesn’t get hunted by police this time, although Daisy obviously still thinks that he was somehow responsible for Gertrude’s murder and all that crap.
Michael is also a prime suspect, for many reasons, but… Daisy’s less inclined to believe that he did it.
Meanwhile, the archivist himself… doesn’t actually really know where to go.
(Bonus little detail: Elias has started referring to Michael as “the archivist” and “archivist” more often without really thinking about it, which he sees as a “promising development”.)
Martin and Jon get to talk, Tim and Sasha aren’t dead, but Tim isn’t that much better than he was in the original season 3. Definitely won’t accept Jon’s apologies, even though Sasha has. (Which, by the way, is very reasonable, because honestly what the fuck, Jon. I understand your motives, and still do NOT condone your actions.)
Sasha being there is nice, though.
It’s… also one more person whose continued existence might start messing with things.
I think she probably got marked by the stranger because of the initial encounter with the table.
I don’t know what that means for her yet, though, sooooooooo… ✨yeah✨.
OH, ok actually Jon was trying to get in touch with Michael —with martin’s help, perhaps— and then he got a tip??? Possibly from Elias? That daisy was coming and he should take his business elsewhere if he didn’t want to be followed or caught.
So he HAS to go to Georgie’s anyway.
Meanwhile Michael’s just… travelling.
He’s not actually going anywhere in particular, at first. But soon he finds himself wandering around places he’s heard referenced in statements.
He’s stopped trying to look to the traces of Gertrude’s footsteps for answers.
So instead he’s taking a gamble and… well… trying to figure out what’s happening to him. Asking people who know. Trying to stay in control, though almost halfheartedly at this point.
He hasn’t given up… he’s not going to just stop caring and go full mirror-man… he’s just…
According to that “vision” he’d had, Gertrude was going to send him to die when they got to where they were going. To “sannikov land” — which, by the way, he’d looked up and found didn’t exist.
He had been insignificant to her. His entire life hadn’t even mattered to her.
So what if a strange man with a liking for shaping weird spirals out of clay wanted to make something terrible happen.
It hadn’t worked.
It hadn’t completely failed, either, but it hadn’t worked.
And if he’d been thrown out into the door… if he had died… what then?
…Four years.
He had worked for her for four years up until that point. What had it even been for? Had he just sentenced himself to death ever since he set foot in the institute? Had it just been planned for him since the very start?
No, that… that wasn’t quite it… and it wasn’t really what had been making all of this hurt so much, either.
Too many years had passed since then… but he remembered a time when he was someone else.
Someone he hadn’t wanted to be.
It wasn’t his voice, it wasn’t his name, it wasn’t even the little dresses and skirts he wore, as he had been forced to. It was who he was, and he didn’t like it.
He wanted to take it off. Take all of it, and switch it out for something that fit.
And he had. After almost seven whole years of painful reminders of who he appeared to be… he finally fit.
He was him, and the he that he was was named Michael, and that was he. That was his name. He told the world who he was, and that was what they’d see, and he loved to be he.
But now… the mirrors did not show that reflection which made him smile just a little bit each time he saw it smiling back.
It didn’t fit.
It wasn’t his.
He was no longer he, and that made him feel very, very afraid.
And… lost.
Like a man being pulled along by strings he cannot see.
Expected to blindly take one step after another towards… well, he imagined it would most likely be his doom. Or perhaps something even worse.
To… simply trust that he was going somewhere important, to fulfill some… greater purpose. Some destiny.
…he didn’t want to have a destiny.
He just wanted to be.
Whoops, accidentally explained his thought process instead of implying things, my bad- well, at least this is just a draft…
*ahem* Anyway-
Michael’s just moving between mirrors in places as best he can without accidentally scaring people. He’s unaware that he’s currently wanted by the London police. He’s just terrified of hurting the others at the institute the way he’d hurt Leitner, and wants to get as far away as possible from them so that he can’t do that.
(Honey, they consider you a friend, you’re allowed to call them that :( )
But his “coworkers” (friends) have other plans.
Tim may now be more sarcastic than punchy, but Sasha’s being insanely helpful and good at this.
Whatever uh. “This” is.
…I may actually have to reread the transcripts and make a “plot-detail” timeline or something, I’ve completely forgotten when everything happens in season three-
#tw dysphoria#tw dysmorphia#i think#lemme know if that’s wrong plz#tw gender dysphoria#Tim stoker#Sasha James#Johnathan sims#Michael Shelley#the magnus archives#tma#michael tma#tma au#tma unwinding au#unwinding au#season three#tma spoilers#sorta#Jon tma#Tim tma#Sasha tma#yeah that’s right I HC Michael as trans :)
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Part 2 Jean Gray S/O Mukami Edition
sorry for the delays not to get too personal for privacy reasons but I've had an accident that's made typing slow plus with my exams wrapping up it's safe go say I got busy lol.
Eve had been taken by the Sakamakis and causing quite a fuss. Yet Karl their saviour had promised to make up for it only to have this risk thrusted upon them.
Unknown strength forcing them back from their approach and a familiar look in her eyes. Like a falcon in a cage ever thinking on how to get out. In a sick sense they realised they were staring at a mirror of their younger selves, as if they were somehow the monsters that had harmed them.
Ruki
You would think being previously human himself this dumbass would've realised that he's not smart from having some fangs. But no violence instead, sure he has a dark past, is old, and is basically in a cult but that doesn't excuse hurting others.
His inferiority complex, especially when it comes to women because ✨mummy issues✨, are going nuts. Every part of his little noggin is cycling through ideas of ways to turn off your powers or break you down to where you don't think you even try. Of course the mind reading throws a particular wrench in the plan.
Ruki shows every sign of his control issues being trauma responses from his past and while that's definitely a real issue it ain't your issue. You aren't a member of the cult that sends these girls you haven't been raised in such a toxic environment to view yourself as needing to be this female savior figure. Ruki is almost attracted to it but there's so much confliction going on. And you're fully aware how the smartest play is to never let on you know his parents names, his nightmares, his scars and his fears.
Kou
Oh boy. Kou is not as impatient as a Sakamaki, he also is better practiced in manipulation with people other then previously mentally broken down girls. He's not dumb enough to rush his hand as much as he hates it. Your a cat, independent and impossible to herd in his mind. Of course unlike a cat you aren't about to come sit in his lap regardless of how nice he acts.
That's when he learns your mind doesn't only affect the external but can also pry. Pry. Pry. Pry. Such a naughty little kitty you are hiding the truth from him so sneakily.
He decides there and then he'll be the one to kill you he just isn't sure how yet.
Yuma
Uneasy but by far the most receptive to it. Maybe it's favoritism but I think of the four Yuma is the most receptive to humanity but has been hardened and still values his brothers more than clinging to humanity.
You're useful in the garden, you're not fragile, and you're not taking part in the messy charade that is the vampire feeding cult. He does have an issue not being able to easily drink but I think he's the most likely to be able to work around it. ON ONE CONDITION...
It's the mind reading I'm getting so repetitive here and I know this may look lazy but let's not lie to ourselves. All the Diaboys got trust issues so mind reading is well out their comfort zone.
So as long as he knows about everything though its chill. The giant and the powerhouse dynamic means you have a relatively chill existence, until either you eventually escape or you and Yuma run off.
Azusa
Big fan but doesn't understand the true meaning ya know?
Dude gets a kick out of it which is an issue for you with the whole being left alone and not harassed by vampires thing. You learn pretty fast to be gentle pushing him away to try minimise his attempts to get you to hurt him. I don't think he'll care much about the mind reading he'd just see it as more reason to be punished.
I also think he won't even careto buffer the attacks of his brothers, thus adding to your stress. Needless to say it's setting up a weird dynamic.
If you're his flavour of fucked up it might be fun for you but that's pretty fucked up.
If not, you've now got this shadow to try shake.
Maybe in a post therapy world you be his protector but as it stands you refuse to be another tormentor.
#diabolik lovers#ruki mukami#yuma mukami#kou mukami#azusa mukami#diabolik lover headcannon#diabolik lovers imagine
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Tokyo Zombie (2005)
Movie #1,060 • WATCHLIST WEDNESDAYS
Every Wednesday, I mine more than 2K deep Letterboxd watchlist via the shuffle function to find two movies for a rando double feature. I almost always have no recollection as to when, why or how I've added films to this unwieldy mishmosh of a list. So, naturally, results vary.
Case in point: the English-dubbed version of this zombie comedy from mid 2000s Japan. This flick, based on a manga, is as relentlessly pointless as it is unnecessarily creepy and unfortunately homophobic. And it's a real shame about the latter because this would have been a much more fun experience without it. I was reminded somewhat of the TRUE RANDOM selection G.O.R.A. I watched a few years back, although not nearly as egregious re the homophobia. Here being gay (and being molested, ugh) are played for laughs, but without the accompanying vitriol of that pitiful piece of shit. Needless to say, it's still impossible to separate those moments when crafting any critique. It sucks ass!
When they're not busy doing weird/horrible sex jokes, the physical goofs — a mix of practical and shitty 00s CGI — are great and almost border on anti-comedy. Take this weird ventriloquist character who ends up becoming a prince in the post-apocalyptic zombie world...
What is that guy's deal?? I have no idea! The aesthetic is off-the-wall and while it's certainly 'not good' in any conventional way, it works for the zany low-budget tone. I mean, this looks like a lovably bad Wes Anderson rip-off or some shit...
If the whole movie had been stuff like that and scenes like this...
youtube
...man, it would have been such a better movie. (Also: What is that fucking music?? lol.) Oh well. I spent way too much time on this review.
SCORE: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½
#watchlist wednesdays#2005#horror#zombie#comedy#4.5#sakichi sato director#tadanobu asano#shô aikawa#erika okuda#🇯🇵#Youtube
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A Night Like This - Pt 1
The last line tag game that @ghouljams tagged me in got me thinking about this one work that I’d been workin on, on and off for a long time. The bit I posted is from the second chapter, which isn’t finished yet. But I thought I’d post the first one and see what y’all think. This features two OC’s, Garret and June in a modern setting.
Warnings: The only thing I can think of for this chapter is stalking? Let me know if I should add anything else and I will.
———————————
She wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather.
To be fair, the temperature was much more tolerable when she’d first gone out, but with fall transitioning into winter, she should have known better and worn a layer or two. Even the several hours spent dancing and mingling at the bar only kept her warm for so long on her walk home. Her legs wobbled under her as she shivered, her thigh high black skirt and white fishnet tights offering no protection from the cold night wind. Her upper body wasn’t faring much better, the low cut top and push up bra doing little to protect her poor skin.
Unfortunately home wasn’t exactly close, and it was going to be a miserable walk back. Arriving at an intersection, she turned the corner, and briefly caught the shape of someone who was half a block behind her out of the corner of her eye. Huh, she thought, I wonder if they were at the bar with me too.
She had chatted with a lot of people tonight, but didn’t recognize who might’ve been behind her. Then again, it was only a split second, and the figure was already blocked by a building as she continued walking down the street. Would it be weird if she looked back to check? The figure had been far enough behind her that if she stopped to ‘check her phone’ she’d probably be able to get a good look without them catching up too quickly. Steeling her resolve, she stopped under a lamp post and pulled out her phone, waiting for the figure to come into view.
Needless to say, she wouldn’t have been able to identify them if she tried.
He struck an imposing silhouette against the streetlight, tall and broad, with an air of quiet confidence as he lumbered down the street. His outfit covered him head to toe, preventing her from determining any identifying features. He wore a sleek black rain jacket that cut off at his knees, with the deep hood pulled up and over his head. Dark pants led down to black combat boots, so heavy that they thudded against the concrete with every step he took towards her. Even his face was almost entirely covered. A light grey gator was pulled up high on his nose, and long, dirty blond, wavy hair spilled out from within the hood on either side of his face. All she could see were his dark eyes, starkly framed against the gator, the hood, and his hair, staring into her soul. He raised an eyebrow.
Fuck.
She was staring.
Quickly turning around she tucked her phone away and continued walking down the street, face burning with embarrassment. I totally just stared down a random guy minding his business in the middle of the night, what was I thinking?! The slow rhythm of his steps behind her taunted her, contrasting his cool demeanor with her embarrassed and flustered one. She resolved to just keep walking. Afterall, she’d lose him eventually as she got closer to home. None of her neighbors had ever dressed up like that for this kind of weather, and it was unlikely he was going the same way as her. Or at least, she thought it was unlikely.
When she turned at the next intersection, she let out a sigh of relief, releasing some of the pent up embarrassment and anxiety. That is, until she heard the slow thud. . .thud, of his footsteps behind her. Confusion and a tint of fear ran through her body. Surely the odds of him taking the same route she was were low right? No, no no. She was just being paranoid. She contemplated her predicament. What was it that people always said? If you make four right turns and they’re still behind you, that means they’re following you?
Taking a deep breath, she put it to the test. She took a right at the next opportunity, turning down a street she’d been on a handful of times. Walking with as much confidence as she could, she waited for a sound. After several moments the man's footsteps could be heard rounding the corner, that same confident stride as before ringing out in the cold night air. She tensed. Calm down, she thought, that’s just one of four. I very well could have walked down the street that leads to his place.
Sure enough, apartment buildings began to pop up along both sides of the street. Her ears strained for any indication that he was stopping at any of the apartments as she passed them. . .
thud. . .thud
‘Fuck’, she whispered to herself, feeling her heartrate increase with every passing second. She gave him another several minutes worth of walking, until the apartments were long behind them, and the district started changing to old and out of use warehouses. Without thinking she turned right down another street, this one more dimly illuminated with old and broken street lamps, taking her deeper into this dilapidated warehouse district. She hadn’t been here before, but that wasn’t a concern at this point. She needed to lose this guy. Now.
Before the guy could round the corner, she ducked into an alleyway, gravel clattering under her frantic footsteps as she tried to hide in the deep shadows cast by the surrounding buildings. She took shallow breaths, trying to be quiet as possible despite her pounding heart. Eventually she heard his footsteps once again as he turned down the street, and she held her breath as he approached the mouth of the alley she had hidden in. . .
He walked past without a care in the world, looking straight ahead and not even breaking stride as he trudged on. She didn’t dare celebrate though, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to recede into the distance before she let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even looked like he was looking for her, or was concerned about her disappearing into thin air. Had she been over reacting? Well, she supposed it was better to be overly cautious than not. Maybe he works security or night shift at one of these warehouses, feeling bad for assuming bad intentions.
She straightened, shaking out her arms as if to shake the feeling of fear and confusion out of her system, before walking towards the mouth of the alley. Stepping into the light, she looked left and right, getting her bearings and determining which way she’d have to go to get home.
The sound of gravel shifting behind her was her only warning before two hands snatched her back into the darkness.
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Minjoon gym au
Yoga instructor jimin, gym patron namjoon, Jimin is horny, taehyung is so done w his ass, joon is sweaty, ft. Jimin’s graphic fantasies
“You just don't get it Taehyungie,” he laments as he flings himself across the younger male’s lap, margarita sloshing across his shirt.
He’s so drunk, he barely even realizes it.
“You're living it up in domestic bliss with Jeonggukie, and i’m over here, single as a pringle and third wheeling the hell out of you and 2seok over there-“
He points to the other side of the club, where Hoseok and Jin are busy dancing, if you could call it that. Honestly it was less like dancing and more like grinding on each other and making out.
Taehyung sighs.
“And my gym Adonis hasn’t been there for two weeks, Tae. Two weeks!”
“You need to get laid.” Taehyung says, exasperated, scanning the crowd for his boyfriend.
He flails around some more, dramatically fake sobbing.
“My one chance at romance is gone, Taetae. Gone!”
Jimin was a yoga and dance instructor at the gym near his apartment. The gym was on the more luxurious side, so he made decent money, but that wasn’t the only perk.
See, Jimin had had his eyes on a particular man for quite some time now.
He frequented the gym Jimin worked at, often on the squat rack or rowing machine, or simply lifting weights.
He was tall, with short silver hair, golden tanned skin and an absolutely ridiculous bangin’ body-
(“He could choke me with his bare hands. And I would probably thank him.”
“That- that's- okay, that's great. Thanks for that.” Jungkook said, nose scrunching in disgust. )
Needless to say, their entire friend group knew about this guy, as Jimin was not one to keep his unabashedly horny thoughts to himself.
Jimin often gazed at his mystery man from across the gym, drooling over his sweaty pecs in the thin tank top he usually wore and his thighs in those stupid gym shorts, fantasizing about all sorts of debauchery they could engage in.
However, as much as he liked to fantasize, it's safe to say Jimin was way too timid to actually approach him.
Apart from the mystery gym guy being hella hot, he was also- for that very reason- extremely intimidating.
(“God Hobi, I mean, I can't look him in the eye! I’ve been nursing this crush for at least 2 months now, I can't approach him? I mean, what would I even say to him? ‘Hey, i've been watching you from across the gym for a while now, I think you're pretty hot, wanna bang?’”
“That would be weird. And creepy.” Hoseok nodded sagely.)
So therein lies the problem.
The man in question hadn’t been seen at the gym for about two weeks now, and Jimin was starting to lose it.
“Hyung, he’s probably just on vacation or something. You’re overreacting.” Says Jungkook, returning from the bar with two cosmos in hand, one of which Jimin gratefully accepts.
“But- but what if he found another gym, what if he stopped coming to my gym? I don’t even know his name!”
Jimin collapses over the side of the booth dramatically, sighing like a Victorian maiden.
Taehyung rubs his back sympathetically. “Don't worry hyung, he’ll come back.”
💪💪💪💪
Gym Adonis did come back.
When Jimin walks through the doors, he turns around and screams silently into his hands as he catches sight of mystery gym guy.
He’s rolling out his legs on a floor mat near the entrance to the studio where Jimin holds his classes.
Which places him directly in Jimin’s path.
Fuck.
Jimin silently calculates every single possible path he could take to the entrance of his studio which would take him around gym guy.
Unfortunately, all of them are awkward and would make it exceedingly obvious that he was avoiding gym guy.
He’s been psychoanalyzing the situation in his head for too long, which translates to him standing by the check in desk for an inordinate amount of time.
Seokjin, who happens to be one of the managers, levels him with an unamused glare from behind the check-in desk.
“For fuck's sake Jimin-ah, go talk to him. Jesus.”
Jimin’s internal dialogue goes something like this:
God he’s so hot. I really should talk to him. It's been ages. But what happens if i fuck it up? God, what do I even say to him?
All this fizzles out when gym hottie looks up from his foam roller and locks eyes with him.
Here is the image seared into Park Jimin’s eyeballs.
Gym hottie is wearing his trademark thin tank top soaked through with sweat along with one of the sluttier pairs of shorts (fuck. Are those running shorts?) he’s seen. His foot is in the air, calf jutting out from where his thigh is pressed into the roller, his other leg crossed on top. His thighs- god, his golden, glistening thighs-are prominently displayed from where his shorts have ridden up, the meat of them spilling over from the pressure of the roller underneath him.
Needless to say, his brain promptly short circuits and he’s left standing there staring at gym hotties thighs like a creep, you're so fucking weird Jimin, what the fuck, snap out of it.
He’s jolted out of his thoughts when gym hottie clears his throat. To his horror, he realizes that his feet have carried him so that he’s now standing right in front of gym Adonis.
Oh god.
“You’re really hot.” He blurts.
The guy averts his gaze, smiling to himself. And-
Wow. Dimples.
“I-I’m so sorry! I just meant to-“
The guy chuckles good-naturedly.
“It's alright. I’ve noticed you staring.”
Wow.
Damn, his voice is deep, Jimin thinks.
He lowers his voice.
“I was wondering if I was gonna have to make the first move.”
That's- flattering. However-
“You've noticed me staring?”He says, flushing red.
“God that's so embarrassing, I’m so sorry-”
The guy shakes his head with a reassuring smile. “No, don't be. You never met my eyes; I just figured you were shy. But now…“
He hadn't really expected this guy to be into him right off the bat, but the way this guy was decidedly checking him out (Jimin silently thanked himself for wearing his cute Lululemon leggings that hugged his ass and thighs just right) Jimin figured he would take the shot.
“Would you maybe wanna…” Jimin trails off and looks at the floor. Those fucking thighs. God. I can barely look at him.
Gym hottie stares back at him, confused. “Wanna…?”
“Get a drink with me?
Wait. Was that too forward?
He scrambles to amend his statement.
“It doesn’t have to be alcohol.” He says, backpedaling. “It could just… be coffee or something?”
Hot guy chuckles. “Damn, don’t you at least want my name first?”
Jimin flushes bright red, his hand flying to the back of his neck. “Shit, right. I’m Park Jimin.”
“Ah, you’re the yoga instructor right? I’m Kim Namjoon.”
“That’s right.” Jimin actually doesn’t force a smile this time.
Gym hottie, or just Namjoon, finally stands up and rolls up his mat as Jimin watches. “I’d love to get a drink- or coffee or something- with you.”
Fuck, he’s adorable.
“Really?” Way to make it seem like you have low self-esteem, dumbass.
“Sure.” He smiles, adorable dimples on display.
He leans in closer.
“You think checking someone out at the gym doesn’t go both ways?”
Jimin’s face is several shades of crimson at this point. He can't quite believe this is actually happening, is tempted to pinch himself because there’s no way, right?
They exchange phone numbers before Namjoon has to leave, but not without a suave wink and a “text me, alright?”
When Namjoon finally leaves Jimin has to take several moments to compose himself.
He silent-screams into his hands for the second time that day.
From behind the desk, Seokjin whistles.
“You actually did it. I thought you would be too much of a coward.”
“I got his number,” he whispers to himself, dazed. “I actually got his number.”
Jimin whips around.
“Hyung! I got his number!”
Jimin whoops in glee. The other gym patrons are definitely looking at him weird but Jimin could care less.
He has the promise of a date to look forward to.
💪💪💪💪
Jimin 7:58 pm
Hey, this is Jimin, the yoga instructor?
Namjoon 8:00 pm
Hi :) I remember, you're the cute small one
Jimin squeals. The cute small one?
Jimin 8:01 pm
Lol you think im cute?
Namjoon 8:02 pm
Yea ofc. You’re adorable
Jimin 8:02 pm
Please I’m so bad at taking compliments, I cannot physically accept it
Youre the cute one
Namjoon 8:03 pm
LOL you’re so funny
And that’s definitely not true, you’re the cute one
They go back and forth like this for a while until the conversation shifts to a possible date.
Jimin 8:10pm
So you weren’t lying when you said you wanna go out with me huh.
Namjoon 8:10pm
Why would i lie about that
Jimin 8:11pm
Sooo where would you wanna go? Hypothetically. If we were going on a date.
O-kay, calm down, Park Jimin. Take a chill pill. It’s just a date. You’ve been on dates before.
Namjoon 8:11pm
there's this cute little bakery I've been wanting to check out for a while. I follow the owner on instagram and they make these really beautiful pastries and tarts.
if, hypothetically, we were going on a date.
Jimin laughs.
Namjoon sends him the address and they set a date, and the whole time Jimin is questioning his reality.
Is this the Matrix? Is he in a simulation right now? Because he can hardly believe this is happening.
Jimin flops back on the bed. He feels a bit like a character in a teenage Disney channel movie.
💪💪 💪 💪
“Hyung, you’re definitely overthinking this.”
Jungkook’s exasperated voice comes through the speaker of his phone. On the screen, Taehyung jumps into the frame.
“Wear those slutty jeans you have. You know, the ones with the buttons on the butt that open.”
“Those are for clubbing only, you harlot.” He chastises.
“This is a normal regular date at a normal, regular place.”
Jimin sighs. He has the majority of his wardrobe spread out on his bed, frantically trying to find something to wear to his date.
It seems like all of his clothes are either too casual or too formal, with nothing in between.
Eventually he decides on a cute baby blue sweater that’s just big enough to fall a little bit off one shoulder with his trademark ripped skinny jeans that make his ass look magnificent.
“Looks great, hyung.” Jungkook says through the phone.
“Yeah, he’d be crazy not to wanna jump you right away,” says Taehyung.
💪💪💪💪
Turns out Namjoon is not actually a meathead like Jimin had assumed.
He reads a lot, is really into modern art (the highbrow type of shit that Jimin never really understood) and even makes music on the side.
When Jimin tells him that he dances, he’s immediately enthusiastically on board.
“That’s amazing! I'll make you a beat, something you can dance to.”
Jimin curls into himself, suddenly shy.
“Aw, I don't know about that, I’m afraid I won't do it justice-“
“No, of course not, I know you’ll be good.” Namjoon smiles warmly and wow. He's so golden and pretty, Jimin thinks, dazed.
“Thanks.”
They talk about anything and everything, and the more they talk, Jimin finds himself more and more endeared and attracted to this man.
He’s smart and kind and funny and handsome and a million other things that Jimin can’t quite put into words.
Which is why when Namjoon offers to walk him home, Jimin accepts.
And when they get to the door of Jimin’s apartment, he summons all his courage to ask-
“What, no goodbye kiss?” with a smirk.
Namjoon blinks, surprised, but quickly recovers. He shyly smiles, eyes crinkling, before leaning in slowly and-
Wow.
His lips are plush and warm and Jimin can't help but kiss him harder. Namjoon cups his jaw with his (large) hand and kisses back, equally as enthusiastic.
They break the kiss and for a moment it's just them, breathing in each other’s air.
Namjoon steps back.
“How are you so…..” he trails off, seemingly lost for words.
“So…..what?”Jimin bats his eyelashes, bites his lip, trying for all the world to look as delectably fuckable as possible.
See, Jimin wasn't usually the kind of guy who put out on the first date, but. Namjoon was the kind of guy he would make an exception for.
Namjoon shakes his head, dismissing the point.
“Would you wanna-” Jimin starts but Namjoon cuts him off.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way but-” Namjoon flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I-I wanna date you for real. I wanna be your boyfriend. He turns away, suddenly shy, mumbles, “You deserve that much at least.”
Jimin is endeared to say the least.
“To be completely honest with you? I wanted the same thing.
💪💪💪💪
From there things progress quickly.
Turns out, Jimin and Namjoon are a great couple. Jimin falls quickly, Namjoon less so. For him it's more of a gradual realization that he’s falling in love, whereas Jimin comes to terms with it much more quickly. They spend whole days together on their days off from work, going to every possible gallery and cafe and museum and park and restaurant in Seoul.
The day comes where Jimin is to introduce Namjoon to his friends, and he is.
Nervous, to say the least.
(“Oh god, what if they dont like me? What if they think I'm a pretentious intellectual?” Namjoon frets, wringing his hands.)
“Babe, with a body like yours, I guarantee you they’ll be pleasantly surprised when the word “anti-capitalist” comes out of your mouth. )
Needless to say, it went well.
Jungkook is, for some reason, starstruck. “I listen to you on Soundcloud!”
Namjoon laughs, a bit embarrassed.
“Wow, really?”
He and Hoseok bond over their mutual love for music and songwriting.
Taehyung takes a moment to look him up and down and whistles, saying to Jimin:
“You sure bagged yourself a nice one, Jiminie.”
Their dates always end the same way: they're making out, usually with Jimin in Namjoon’s lap, but Namjoon always chickens out and leaves awkwardly whenever Jimin even suggests taking his pants off.
It’s frustrating to no avail.
Eventually, Jimin confronts him about it.
They're at Jimin’s place, Netflix playing in the background, and they're kissing.
They’re kissing and it's great and Jimin is fully in his lap and Namjoon most certainly has his tongue down his throat and he keeps making these little sounds, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan and it lights a fire in Jimin’s blood. He breaks the kiss to pant heavily into Joon’s mouth, his big hands circling his small waist, their foreheads touching.
He knows where this is headed. They’ll kiss until Jimin starts tugging at his shirt, and then Namjoon will get all hesitant and awkward and make up some excuse and then he’ll leave.
Jimin doesn’t want him to.
So this time, when Namjoon breaks the kiss and leans back, Jimin says, frustrated-
“Why won’t you fuck me?”
Namjoon makes a strangled noise.
Jimin is- mad now, frustrated and horny and confused.
“Am I not fuckable enough for you? I mean, I'm cute, right? Im cute and I’m small and I have nice thighs and iI fucking have abs, okay? I don't know what else you want from me-
“No, no, Jimin, stop! I promise it’s not you-” Namjoon interrupts him, frantic.
“Well then what is it, Joon? Because I’ve wracked my brain for hours about this.”
Jimin crosses his arms.
“And it makes me feel…. I dunno. Like I'm not worthy.”
“No, no, I promise it's not that.”
Namjoon plants a tender kiss on his forehead.
“It's…. Well, I haven't been with anyone in a long time- since my ex. And that was.” Namjoon sighs. “Anyway. The point is.”
“You’re here and you're so sexy and confident and I feel like this huge bumbling idiot and I kept running away because- well, because I didn't feel like I was worthy enough to have you.”
He shrugs.
“And I was terrified that we- we would do it, we would have sex, and i’d be terrible and you’d be disappointed and you wouldn’t want me anymore.”
“Oh Joon.”
Jimin kisses him, a tender one this time.
“Of course I want you. I want all of you.”
Jimin smiles at him.
“And hey, even if you are terrible, I can make you un-terrible.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“That's not how that word works.”
“Anti-terrible.”
“Youre so-”
“I'm so what?” Jimin grins cheekily.
Namjoon rolls his eyes before kissing him with fervor, catching Jimin off guard.
From there things progress quickly.
Time passes in a blur until they're both shirtless, Jimin fully in Namjoon’s lap. They’re panting into each other’s mouths, Namjoon kissing down the column of his throat.
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
He scrapes his teeth on his neck, teasing a bite, and Jimin whimpers.
“Fuck, Joon-”
Namjoon comes back up to meet him, eyes dark, before kissing him again, so deep and heavy Jimin feels like he’s drowning. Namjoon's lips move against his own in a way that’s- dirty, really, wet and desperate and almost frantic in a way so that Jimin meets him with the same amount of desire.
Everything feels like- like Jimin is a live wire, like someone stripped away all of his insulation and is now exposed, one raw nerve. Namjoon’s touch lights up his body, every touch has him shivering and pressing back into it, craving more.
Then they have sex goodbye.
The end bro
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On that note, perhaps a scenario.
Kyoya makes a deal with a client that involves him having to go on a six month business trip to Shanghai to oversee the development of a new complex. Perhaps inconvenient, but he reasons to himself that six months is inconsequential after four years in Boston, Shanghai isn't that far from Tokyo and he can make frequent trips back, and his trip will coincide with Shanghai fashion week so Kaoru will have plenty of opportunities to come over.
He therefore sees no reason to discuss it with Kaoru, announces it as another business venture well gained over dinner, and-- because he's not looking-- misses that Kaoru's annoyed at not being consulted.
Kaoru however agrees, great opportunity, well done, smiles. It's not like he would have told Kyoya *not* to go. It would have been *nice* for it to be a mutual decision, but oh well! Everything's fine!!!
Three weeks later, Kaoru thinks huh if Kyoya is gone for six months, I'll be minding Noir singlehandedly. She's going to be lonely all by herself <- projecting. He suggests getting another cat. Kyoya immediately shoots it down. They already have a cat.
Okay...technically Kyoya already has a cat. But sure. Noir is an only child. Kaoru doesn't push it. It's not really about the cat anyway.
One month later, they're both working late. New York Fashion Week is coming up, Kyoya is trying to finalise finances and grants before the move to Shanghai. Kyoya gets take-out on his way home from that restaurant Kaoru likes. He rattles off Kaoru's extremely weird, fussy, kind of unpalatable order off to the waiter-- this is a 5 star restaurant, they don't even do take-out-- and doesn't double check that they've put the mushrooms on the side.
They're both busy and tired. Kaoru doesn't mention it, just pointedly picks the mushrooms out like he wishes they could feel pain. Kyoya apologises, Kaoru says it doesn't matter. Everything's fine!
They go to New York for Fashion Week. It's probably the last time they're going to go anywhere before Kyoya goes to Shanghai. They're traipsing about, Kaoru's annoyed at some guy calling his line "gauche," and he's hungry. They stop by a waffle stand.
Kyoya orders. Kaoru is like oh and I want sprinkles. Kyoya, mildly, points out that sprinkles are actually a needless mark up because they don't add anything to the flavour or quality of the waffle and are actually just an aesthetic choice to trick commoner children into a higher price point. Kaoru says fine, whatever, don't get me fucking sprinkles then. Kyoya's like, I'm sure I can spare fifty cents to get you sprinkles, I was just making an observation. Kaoru's like well if you need to make a big deal over fifty cents maybe I don't even want the waffle. Kyoya, frustrated, buys the waffle anyway, extra sprinkles, hands it to him. Kaoru snatches it. Drops it. You're always less coordinated when you're wound up about something. Kaoru stares at the waffle. Kyoya sighs.
Cue meltdown. Kaoru fumes incoherently, then storms away because if he cries he loses!!! He has to be so normal and chill about it!!! They're both staying in the same hotel room so this is an absolutely pointless excursion, in fact Kyoya makes it back to the hotel before him. They have an absolute blow up row: eg. Kaoru muffled tantrum into a pillow over fucking waffle and Kyoya repeatedly going "I think this is bit of an overreaction."
It goes on for a shockingly long time because CLEARLY Kyoya doesn't even like him enough to yell at him. Kyoya tries to hand him a tissue because he has no idea what else to do when Kaoru's crying. Kaoru, who wants a hug but will not ask for one because then he loses(!!!), does not want attention drawn to the fact that he's crying at all and is somehow more offended. Kyoya figures Kaoru's hungry and just orders him room service throughout all of this. Kaoru is now offended that Kyoya's not even paying attention until the room service comes and he really was actually quite hungry...okay one point for Kyoya.
Kaoru's still furiously mopping tears into the pillow. Kyoya is like...okay listen, you're a logical man. You're also a grown man. This isn't about the waffle. Kaoru is like of course it's not about the waffle! But you never respect my food preferences. Kyoya's like okay so I told you to stop eating marinara sauce out of the jar and I didn't check your mushroom preferences. I think in the grand scheme of things that's pretty inconsequential. Kaoru's like it's *my* marinara sauce, why would you even care that I eat it out of the jar. Kyoya's like it's our apartment, technically it's our marinara sauce. Kaoru's like ohhhh but it's *your* cat? Kyoya's like...no? It's our cat. Kaoru's like NOW it's our cat, but when you leave you're going to take her away and then she'll be YOUR cat. Kyoya's like when I leave? I'm not going anywhere? And Kaoru is like you are! You're going to Shanghai!
And Kyoya's like. Right. So this is about....?
And Kaoru's like, muffled, petulant, so so cross at being called out: Shanghai......
Anyway this probably resolves itself with a heartfelt conversation about how purely logically this is a silly thing to be upset over and Kyoya will be home every second weekend anyway but perhaps he can concede that they are a team and he shouldn't be making big decisions unilaterally. Kaoru thinks this is an acceptable resolution. Kyoya puts Kaoru's name on the vet's bills, if he wants to be a custodial parent so bad. Kaoru accepts this as a consequence of dragging Noir into his tantrum.
Kyoya goes to Shanghai. He's there four days when Kaoru mentions that he is rather lonely without him... <- flirting. Kyoya panics and buys him a kitten and arrives home with it that weekend.
Kaoru thinks he’s losing the idgaf war? Is he not actually?
Hmm. If Kaoru, theoretically, is losing the idgaf war enough to become emotional about it then it's probably a big deal. In which case, Kyoya probably does, in fact, gaf. But he still wouldn't have an emotional outburst about it (in most cases), and if Kaoru does then Kaoru is losing (in his own head)
Of course theoretically, Kaoru might also have an emotional outburst over something small if it was a culimination of many many instances of :) I'm fine actually haha don't worry about me! :) in which case Kyoya's bewilderment (that? that's what you're mad about?) and seeming disinterest would be infuriating. And then Kaoru would get worse.
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hello I saw this and i was reminded of my humans are weird/ humans are space orcs/ earth is a death world/ earth is australia phase here on tumblr, so since humans can to some degree mimic certain sounds how would some of the twist guys react to mc mimicking their non-verbal language, like for example since crewel's a weredalmatian, yuu can replicate his barks and growls, not knowing that half of what crewel was saying are swear words
As someone who has a habit of mimicking animal and non-animal sounds, I felt this in my soul. 😂
Before we get into that though, I gotta say that I adore the “humans are weird/humans are space orcs/etc” trope! :D In fact, that was part of the inspiration for the posts on Cater’s “Humans are Weird” Magicam account!
Okay, okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on with the fun stuff~! ÒwÓ For funsies, let’s have them react to Yuu and mini!Yuu being the little human mimics they are. >w< Keep in mind that this is just a suggestion—you guys can also come up with your own scenarios for such a situation! 0v0
////----------////
Yuu:
The discovery happened during PE class, and there happened to be a joint class between the grades. Given the fact that they were surrounded by an almost literal zoo of monsters for students, Yuu was hearing a lot of animalistic sounds coming from their fellow classmates. While unnerving to hear the more dangerous ones being so close to them, Yuu couldn’t help but focus on each sound: the inflections, the duration, the pitch…all of it. They could feel the urge to try and replicate them rising—to see if they could do it.
When they heard one particular growl that ended with a bark from a passing student that looked their way—however—they couldn’t help but repeat the sound back. It wasn’t as deep, but they’d managed to get the length and inflection right!
“What the fuck-?!”
Apparently a little too well, as the outburst had drawn the attention of everyone. Had Yuu known what some of them had been saying the whole time?! Were they planning on blackmailing them?! It took Coach Vargas asking Yuu to explain what happened before it sank in that no, they couldn’t understand the sounds they heard—but they could mimic them well enough!
The rest of the day was spent with the first years testing Yuu to see how many sounds they could make, ranging from growls and hisses to chirps and squawks or barks and meows. It wasn’t until one particular class with Professor Trein that they made a high-pitched ‘meh!’ sound like a kitten that Lucius came running, the matagot yowling and swatting at the student who just so happened to be near Yuu (‘F’ in chat for Ace’s hand). After that incident, Yuu was enrolled in the Animal Linguistics class to not only help them understand everything, but to test and improve their mimicry skills.
Needless to say, the researchers had a field day studying this behavior and testing out human vocal ranges. If Yuu just so happens to know how to use their false vocal cords to create the overtone effect, this will open up so many research opportunities!
////---------////
Mini!Yuu:
The class was full of busy students working on their potions, Crewel monitoring them with a stern look while occasionally glancing over at the playpen set up in the corner close to his desk. Inside the pen, little Yuu was happily playing with the variety of toys and coloring books the staff gave them. Anyone watching would notice how Yuu was putting stuff in a bucket, their face one of pure concentration as they looked between the students closest to them and their ‘ingredients’. When a puff of colored smoke erupted from someone’s cauldron, their little hands wiggled over the bucket—as though performing a spell—before throwing their arms with a chirp of, “Poof!”
More than one student uttered a quiet “Aw!” in response.
“Alright, pups. Take the laurel berries and mix five grams of dusk-weed,” Crewel instructed. “Next, you will-”
While he spoke, Yuu was watching intently as the students closest to them were adding the ingredients to the mixture. One of the students—a canine-like monster—accidentally bumped his elbow against the edge and let out a yelp of pain. Almost immediately his partner and the professor were there checking on him, Yuu tilting their head in thought. They were having fun, yes, but…it was lonely playing by themselves. But if the teacher and the student’s friend came when he made that sound…what if they tried?
“You’ll be fine,” Crewel uttered in annoyance over a minor bump though relieved it wasn’t a burn. “Next time, don’t-”
“Yip!”
Multiple heads turned at the sound of distress, Crewel immediately bolting over to the pen and leaning over to examine the toddler. When he didn’t see any sign of injury or distress, he knelt down and asked, “What is it, pup? Are you hurt?”
“I wanna play too!” Yuu chirped, a wide smile on their face as they bounced on their feet. “Yip! Yip!”
Ears twitching, Crewel said, “Puppy…that sound is meant for when you’re hurt, not for when you want to play. I thought you were hurt!” At that Yuu looked confused and lowered their head from the scolding. “…the next time you wish to ask someone to play with you, this is the sound you make.” He made a warbling growl-like bark sound, Yuu perking up and listening intently before repeating the sound back. “Good puppy!”
“Play time?” they asked excitedly.
“Class is almost over. If you can be a good little puppy and wait just a little longer, we’ll find a game to play together.”
“Okay!”
It was after class was over and Yuu was put down for a nap that Crewel was able to mark down this latest development. Nearby were a few students who were sitting at their desks writing letters, nervously glancing over at the sleeping toddler and quickly turning back to their papers when Crewel shot them a withering look. Satisfied, he finished writing his notes:
It has been discovered that Yuu has the ability to copy the sounds that they hear from the other students. Does not appear to understand what they mean unless told, and may begin to use them to gain attention. Will have to test and see the extent of this ability. However…
Severe punishment will be given to ensure students do not verbally or non-verbally communicate curses and insults around Yuu…again.
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland monster au#twst monster au#divus crewel#ashton vargas#twst divus#twst vargas#twisted wonderland Yuu#twisted wonderland mini!Yuu
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