#the way i could change these names and make a completely original story shhhh

[send-me-a-puffalope]

Take two because tumblr deleted my entire goddamn essay of a post— so um I did a bad thing (LONG POST INCOMING)

Okay, so I accidentally came up with a FNAF movie AU where William is the Bruce Wayne but evil of Afton Industries, Vanessa is his heir, and Mike is new to the city and just landed a job as one of the Afton Industries henchmen.

Mike quickly realizes something is up because all the other henchmen around him are acting Abnormal™️ as in, they feel almost drained of their humanity (they all wear animal masks, Mike’s is a fox). His first day, the other henchmen that joined the same day, Jeremy, was super friendly and talkative— only to find that the man had gone completely silent, only speaking in affirmation to orders or replying with very rudimentary yeses and nos. The only other “henchman” who seems to be unaffected by this is a blonde woman in a bunny mask, who he quickly befriends because What The Fuck. We’re the only normal ones here. This is weird as shit right??

What Mike doesn’t know is that that henchman, Vanessa, is the reason he isn’t under the same mind control the others are under. In fact, she isn’t technically a henchman at all. She’s there to keep an eye on the third wave of the latest Afton project to confirm that the product, mind control chips attached to the animal masks the henchmen wear, are working as planned (as a parallel to the animatronics in the FNAF movie being controlled by William). This is all leading up to the end of the week, where Afton Industries is throwing a giant Gala with one plan in mind: to use the mind control chips to give William control over all of the city’s elite.

But Vanessa doesn’t agree with William’s plan, instead fucking with the least eye catching henchman’s chip (Mike) so that he notices something is up. And he does. So they become close, even getting to know each other outside of work because neither of them really had a friend before. When he first sees Vanessa’s face, all that registers in his head is huh. she looks kinda familiar. but he doesn’t connect the dots because he’s new to the city and doesn’t keep up with the rich elite because why would he (plus perhaps Vanessa can pull a superhero disguise and wear glasses or some shit 💀💀💀).

Vanessa inconspicuously seeds information to Mike about how the henchmen are being mind controlled and leading him to make the conclusion that that mind control is being extended during the ever impending Gala at the end of the week. They come up with a plan to kill the main server hub of Afton Industries to break the mind control of the henchmen + prevent the city’s elite from falling under William’s control. But there’s some underlying tension because Mike is completely open about his life and even introduces Vanessa to Abby, his little sister who he basically raised, but he catches on that Vanessa always seems to know a little too much about the ongoing of Afton Industries. Worse still is when he catches Vanessa lying about her past/life as her stories start contradicting each other. He starts realizing that he really doesn’t know anything about Vanessa but she begs him to give her just a little more time and then she’ll explain everything.

Vanessa planned to feed Mike code words instructing him through their plan through their comms so that to others, it just sounded like a normal conversation. Vanessa promises him that even if the plan goes awry, she’ll make sure he’ll be okay. He doesn’t question her how.

The day of the Gala comes around and Mike finds himself conveniently positioned right where he needs to be, in the main lobby of Afton Industries, as security. This is where the Welcoming Ceremony was taking place, introducing the hosts and inviting all the guests to the reception.

But as Mike starts panicking because Vanessa isn’t responding through her ear piece, he hears a familiar voice from the balcony of the lobby. He looks up and makes eye contact with his only friend: Vanessa. It dawns on him then that that was the reason for all Vanessa’s secrecy. She’d been lying to him this whole time. How much of this had she been planning since the beginning? Was she still trustworthy or was she actually working with William? How could Vanessa Afton be the “bad guy” when she’d been his closest confidant since moving to the city?

(Was this just an excuse to put Vanessa in this fit? Absofruitly. I am not immune to woman in dress)

Immediately, Mike catches that Vanessa is keeping up her side of the plan when he hears one of their code words in her speech.

William Afton finds Mike personally after he disrupts the server and grabs him, only to be thrown off by Vanessa, who followed him. -> smth smth plot (i’ll think of it later) -> William Afton gets publicly exposed and arrested. Mike turns to Vanessa and asks what’s going to happen to her? She smiles sadly at him and says it’s going to be okay, she’ll survive. -> setup for sequel for because I cannot think of a story ever without setting up for a sequel

And that’s as much as my silly putty lump of a brain thought of while blindly walking around Las Vegas. Was this all inspired by those two pictures? Yes. Am I regretful? Maybe. Ask me again in like 24 hours *smiles serenely*

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: High Risk, Low Reward (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

High Risk, Low Reward 

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

If someone told you a week ago that you would be taking a shower with Joker, would you laugh in their face or plan the day it happens? You’re back on speaking terms with Joker but anything goes with the Clown Prince of Crime. The plan is simple; predicting Joker’s next move is not.

Author’s note:

FORGIVE ME! This is the longest I’ve went without updating!! So much has happened I kid you not! Carpal tunnel, work in general, writer’s block, you name it, it happened. But enough excuses! I’m happy to drop this chapter and share the news that chapter eight is already 3K words in progress. Don’t judge me it’s how I operate. Anyhoo!! I wrote/edited half of this chapter at a wedding reception so if there’s any errors hehe. Cheers.

No beta, we die like real men. Without further ado I hope you enjoy the story! 

Taglist! 

@blackreaderatrisk​

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If someone told you a week ago that you would be taking a shower with Joker, for starters, you would've laughed in their face, called them crazy, and then ran for dear life.

But as you stood in the shower, soaked completely through with Joker cornering you into the wall, well, you felt like the crazy one for not believing it was possible.

"J-Joker... wait."

"Shhhh." He brushed the back of his hand down your face before cupping your neck and tipping it back.

He was breathing heavily and with the hot steam from the shower adding to the already stifling air, your breath was labored as well.

Joker's eyes roamed your face, memorizing every blemish and lingering a tad bit too long on your parted lips before settling on your e/c eyes.

Your eyes. The power they had over him was unnerving.

"Just let things happen, Y/n. You'll find life is a lot more enjoyable that way."

With every word he whispered, Joker loomed closer and closer and this time, you didn't run away.

"You sure you wanna do this, Y/n? Cuz it seems someone is a lit-tle nervous."

Joker stressed his T's again and you grumbled under your breath knowing the reason behind it. His speech pattern was designed to intimidate and stir up people's emotions and boy was it doing its job.

You were indeed nervous but he didn't have to call you out on it. It was too late to take back your original offer so you did the next best thing and denied everything.

"Me? Pfft no. I'm not nervous! Stop putting words in my mouth Joker. Now c'mon. Let's get you in the shower yeah?"

You were a stuttering mess but hopefully Joker bought your act. He didn't.

He knew firsthand how quickly your mood could change and since he was really looking forward to taking a shower, he kept his mouth shut.

Joker decided to be on his best behavior until he got what he wanted. It went against his morals but he found the strength not to tease you and shifted towards the edge of the bed, pushing up to his feet.

He hadn't been on his feet that much today. His little stretch felt good despite the multiple pops and groans his body made in protest.

Your worried glance was cute but then again– every expression you made was cute to him.

You avoided eye contact as you offered him your arms and he didn't comment on it as the two of you shuffled the few steps into your en-suite bathroom.

There was a wooden bench behind the bathtub, mostly used to hold your candles and things during a soak, that caught Joker's eye. He parted from your hold to drag it out. He then plopped down on it with a huff. Maybe laying around all day was making him feel out of shape.

Which left you standing near the doorway a little put off from being dismissed so casually. Though you didn't mind his cold shoulder.

A withdrawn Joker was godsend right now with your current jitters. You were too busy trying to mentally prepare yourself for this shower to be worried about his abrupt and closed off demeanor.

You planned on being his human crutch while he showered but knowing Joker, anything could happen. The possibility of this going south had your hands shaking like a leaf. You needed a distraction.

You stumbled over to the built-in linen closet and smiled when your second favorite set greeted you on the shelf.

You pulled out the two fluffy towels and the matching washcloth before placing them on the edge of the sink. Towels down, next to grab was aromatics.

"Alright I got you some towels but.." Joker watched you dig around further, making quite the ruckus with your nerves fueling your erratic hand coordination.

"Do you like bergamot or almond and vanilla?" You turned around holding up two minimalist bottles for him to choose from.

"Are you asking me what scent of soap I wanna use? Does it look like I care?" Joker scratched his neck and fixed you with a dull stare. He could care less.

His long eyelashes hypnotized you with each slow blink but you shook your head to focus back on the matter at hand.

"Yes. Yes I am. The right fragrance can turn a boring shower into a luxurious experience! I personally use bergamot when I'm tense but it's also good for balancing out my complexion during the summer. Vanilla on the other hand is calming and paired with almonds..."

'What have I done to deserve this form of torture?' Joker thought.

He saw inmates stabbed over common bar soap before. As long as it cleaned him up, what was the big deal on how it smelled? And how come yours was in a bottle?

"Soap is soap, just pick one." Joker groaned out loud. Why did everything have to be so difficult with you?

"But it's so much more than that!" You marched up to him and waved the two bottles in his face so he could see the label printed on the back. "Every fragrance is different and has different properties! Duh, any soap can clean, but I want this shower to be perfect for you after going so long without one! You'll thank me once you get in there."

He took a glance at his choices before grabbing your wrist to tug you close, thus earning a high pitched yelp from you in the process.

"How about this, Y/n." Joker licked his lips pretending to think. "Why don't I use your soap?"

You jerked back in shock. It was an odd suggestion but you didn't see any harm in indulging him. Just where did he get the idea from? "You.. you want to use mine? Why?"

Joker shrugged, "I already know what it smells like. It saves me time trying to guess whatever the hel–"

You narrowed your eyes at Joker for almost swearing and he rolled his eyes, quickly remembering your house rules.

He took a deep breath before replying. "I almost forgot! No potty mouths in front of the innocent whittle bunny. What's worse? Your prudish rules or picking out which fanc-y soap you want me to use?"

"Ha. Ha. You really do live up to your name huh?" You mocked.

Joker wisely chose to ignore your jab.

"You always smell good so I know your soap will be 'perfect' and allow for whatever.. uh experience.. you keep babbling about to happen. There. I picked out a soap. Can we move on now?"

Joker turned his head and you swore the strip of skin between his face paint and the collar of his shirt turned red. Was he blushing? He did admit you smelled good, but it was a rather tame compliment.

What made him so flustered then?

"Y-Yeah sure. I guess you can use mine. I'll just go grab it out of my shower. I'll be right back." Your eyes lingered on Joker before you walked out the bathroom and ventured down the hall into your room.

He was acting odd but what could you do about it? Joker was rather unpredictable.

One minute he was compliant to your wishes, the next threatening you with common household objects. You knew no matter how long Joker stayed hidden in your apartment, he wouldn't change.

The door to your bedroom remained closed but with a gentle twist of the doorknob it opened. You didn't spare a glance at your room but made a beeline for the other bathroom in the apartment— separate from the rest.

Of course your main bathroom in the hall was grand but it was paltry compared to the one attached to your master bedroom. Per norm it was off limits and undoubtedly yours.

Following the theme in your bedroom, the walls were dark and the celestial décor continued on.

The ceiling here was also painted with the moon and stars with spotlights installed as the only source of light. The walls were darker than black holes with a faint shimmer of opal. As a whole, the room wasn't gothic in appearance.

Other elements a few shades lighter created contrast and kept the space balanced.

A slab of poured concrete sat atop a massive cabinet of natural cedar wood supplying you with ample amounts of storage space. The dual sinks were carved into the counter like an infinity pool, giving off a futuristic look and saving counter space.

The faucets however were replaced with a statue of a deity allowing the water to pour out from her outstretched hands into the respective sink dents.

A floor to ceiling mirror took up the wall behind the sink, letting the window to its immediate left flood the bathroom with moonlight and subsequently the luminescent view of the Fashion district at night.

The penthouse was high enough for the average peeping Tom to not be an issue but as a precaution, there was an archway that separated the sink area from the shower and toilet area as well as frosted glass in place.

The archway was painted with the phases of the moon that led to the focal point of the bathroom. A sunken bathtub.

You fought with the landlord when you submitted your remodeling blueprints to him.

After you waved a wad of cash in his face and signed a non-negotiable lease for the next ten years, your contractor dug a literal hole in your bathroom right into the maintenance floor below yours to build the tub.

Since it was all custom, the depth exceeded the average twenty inches and once again the standard faucet was replaced with another statue, this one similar to the one on the sink but bigger.

This deity had water spewing out from her mouth with two chibi sprites flanking her, holding pots decorated with Greek mythology motifs that also filled the tub from the sides. At full power, the statues could fill the basin in roughly twenty minutes.

But you walked straight past all the grandeur over a cedar wood plank to your waterfall shower just two steps above the sunken tub.

There was a plethora of shower gels present, each with different scents and in different textures, stashed inside a built- in alcove, but you honed on your favorite, separate from the rest.

You snagged the bottle before darting over to your bathroom cabinet and grabbing a spare loofah for Joker. Ironically it was green. Go figure.

You wasted too much time here and doubled back to the main bathroom where Joker was in the same place you left him, although he now looked rather impatient.

"And where did you disappear to, hmm?" He eyed the new bottle in your hand with intrigue. Unlike the others, it was half empty showing it was used regularly.

"Sorry. I had to grab a few more things." You waved the loofah before setting it down.

"Okay so I got the towels, shower gel, plus a loofah. That's everything needed for a shower. Are you ready?"

"For the third time, yesss, Y/n I am ready. I should be asking you that question." Joker rolled his eyes at your methods of stalling.

If you didn't want to help him it was okay. He wasn't forcing you. You were the one putting yourself into an awkward situation here. Although a part of him wanted you to join him.

You were down to your last excuse. "Hey.. aren't you going to wash your face?" You gestured to your own while leaning on the console sink.

Joker huffed, as if his answer was obvious. "Uh no. NoT in front of you."

Oh. Oh. You weren't exactly on good terms with him so that made sense.

You forgot he was a wanted criminal with an unknown past. Plus you were an inconvenience to Joker at the end of the day. Who were you to see him so exposed?

"Righttt. What I meant to say was– do you usually take off your makeup? I mean, it's looking a little worse for wear. No offense!" You quickly added.

So you finally noticed. Good, you weren't an airhead after all.

"It's still concealing my identity Y/n. But to answer your question, yes. I usually reapply by now. This is the longest I went without fixing it." He made a face and smacked his lips a few times.

Day-old lipstick must taste horrible. How did he bear it? There was a stretch of silence inside the bathroom while you let that thought sink in.

You could only imagine what his pores looked like after years of neglect. You really wanted to see what was underneath the paint.

To see his skin, despite the scars in its natural beauty. Common sense told you Joker would never let that happen... but it didn't hurt to dream. Thank goodness you planned ahead.

You shifted on your feet drawing Joker's attention back to you.

"If you want, you can use some of my makeup to reapply. I know you're not comfortable going around bare faced. Even if it's just you and I inside the apartment, you have a right to feel comfortable, so I stopped by the makeup store on Monday and bought some for you to freshen up with."

That was very considerate of you. Joker didn't know how to process your act of kindness. You went out of your way to help him again and he still didn't have an answer as to why.

If you were smart, you should've exposed his identity and got that information over to the authorities, even better to Batman. That would've been the main objective if he were in your shoes.

Not like he'd risk compromising his identity around you, but you did have many opportunities to out him.

And you chose to protect his privacy. Hiding him here and jeopardizing your freedom if someone found out. You were harboring a fugitive, all with a smile on your face.

Nothing you did made any sense to him.

"Uh thanks?" Joker blinked.

You excused yourself and returned with a cosmetic store bag filled with foundation, powders, etc.

You didn't know what all Joker needed and you got quite a few suspicious glares when you raided the beauty store. You bought all of their pale whites and full coverage products and paid in cash to destroy a digital trail.

If it was closer to Halloween average costume makeup would have sufficed but you made due with the daily makeup products a few online beauty gurus recommended for fairer skinned beauties.

"I hope this helps." You carried the brand name bag over to Joker.

He peered into the bag expecting the worst. Imagine his surprise when he spotted the exact lipstick shade he normally used inside. How did you know?

Joker tried not to look too pleased and gave you a faint nod but it was enough for you. He didn't throw the bag at you so apparently you did well!

"Alright! No more dicking around. It's shower time!"

You crossed the room and opened the glass enclosure that was your shower and tampered with the controls to power it.

Keeping in mind this shower was to help flush out his wound and clean off all the dirt and grime from his body, you set the temperature between hot and molten lava. You didn't want to burn him and get yelled at, but you still wanted to fight off any lingering bacteria. If he couldn't handle a little hot water then he was a pussy.

Once the water was to your liking, you lifted your baggy sweatshirt up and off, revealing the thin tank top and lounge shorts you wore underneath to Joker's gaze.

He was expecting a swimsuit but this was so much better. He couldn't wait to see it wet. He coughed discreetly into his fist and looked away.

This was it then. You were seriously going to join him in the shower.

He thought you'd flake last minute but as you dug out a silk bonnet from your pocket, something else you snagged from your private bathroom and secured it over your hair, Joker understood there was no turning back.

But was he ready? After seeing you strip down he lost all of his initial confidence. Joker was forced out of his inner thoughts by you approaching him with your hands on your hips.

"Well?" You waved towards the shower. "I'm not gonna ask you again."

Even your nervous grin was cute. This was gonna be hard– amongst other things..

"Sure. Let's get naked." Joker exhaled with a grin of his own.

He couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease you. It was just too easy. You sighed and urged him towards the shower with a few gentle nudges. He made it to the door and felt the accumulated steam seeping out to greet him.

"Okay! I'm turning around so you can undress but let me know when you're done so I can keep your balance in the shower. Can't have my patient slipping and falling on my watch am I right?"

Joker was already removing his shirt before you finished your first sentence. You only had seconds to turn before receiving an eyeful.

Look away Y/n, LOOK AWAY!

His zipper echoed sharply in the bathroom sounding way too provocative given the situation. Your mind was racing as blood rushed in your ears. Suddenly the picture frames on the wall were very interesting.....

"Done." Joker mumbled and took the liberty of stepping into the spacious shower only to hiss and spew a string of curses from the scalding temperature.

"I told you the water would irritate your open wound! Give it a minute and you'll adapt." You scampered in behind him, chuckling lightly to quell your nerves.

You stepped over the small pile of clothes he left outside the shower. Just looking at them made you red in the face.

You cut holes in his pants to access his wounds but now that they were completely off his person, oh boy. You weren't prepared for this at all.

Pull yourself together Y/n! You are [insert age] years old, not some horny teenager facing her crush for the first time!

So what if Joker was butt naked in your shower and letting out some very suggestive groans as the hot water worked its magic on his weary muscles.

This was by far the worst idea you ever had.

The steam quickly fogged up the glass and thankfully covered Joker's body from the hips down but from what you could still see... the man was all types of fine.

Joker's signature three piece suit concealed his frame and any media coverage failed narrow down exactly what lie underneath his clothes. For years he had been a mystery. Now you got to see the truth.

Various police reports described him as tall and lanky. Well that was a lie.

Joker was tall.. and surprisingly muscular with gorgeous tan skin, riddled with old scars and dusted with faint freckles, just begging to be touched. And how could you forget to mention? He was drop dead gorgeous.

He wasn't ripped like a bodybuilder but in no way lanky as everyone originally assumed. He had the right amount of muscle that any male model would die for while maintaining his ominous appearance.

Water dripped down Joker's back in sinful patterns and you followed a bead down his spine until it disappeared past the danger zone. It had to be illegal to be this hot.

Each flex of his arms was like a moving piece of art for your eyes only. You were beyond speechless.

If his back was this stunning could you handle seeing the front? You were fighting the urge to turn him around yourself. Unfortunately your body was frozen in awe.

Joker craned his head back and found you motionless by the shower entrance. His green eyes somehow glowed and easily cut through the steam.

He knew that look from anywhere.

"See somethin' ya like, Y/n?" That smirk of his was pure sin. You nodded mutely and instantly regretted it.

"Oh you do? Didn't take ya for a perv Y/n, but never judge an author by their uh.. covers." Joker chuckled to himself and returned back to his shower.

You on the other hand wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You?! A pervert? Your current thoughts were befitting the name but he didn't have to know that!

"I am not a pervert! And I won't let your jokes get to me! I think you're wet enough-"

"You think I'm wet enough, Y/n?" Joker shot over his shoulder, smirking.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!" You whined in your hands. "As I was saying... you're wet enough to start lathering up. Here." You handed him the bottle of soap and his sage green loofah.

At this, Joker turned and faced you. "'How do I.."

Oh my God.

Did he not know how to use shower gel?

Maybe that's why he was so agitated by selecting one earlier. He was used to generic bar soap from prison. That made your face turn sour.

You shook your head forgetting for just a moment that Joker was naked and boldly retrieved the loofah from him to demonstrate. "This is liquid soap. You drizzle it onto this exfoliating puff and then.."

You let your actions do the talking.

Joker watched as your hand came up to rub soothing circles on his chest with the loofah. Immediately he saw a lather form followed by an explosion of scent that filled his nostrils.

The hot water amplified the exotic fragrance and the shower enclosure was quickly flooded with the smell of you.

This is what he wanted; to be wrapped up in your alluring scent with nothing standing in the way.

There were no words to describe this feeling so he simply let it take hold. His mind didn't register that you were literally bathing him and you were so out of it, it didn't click in your mind either.

Using the loofah, you worked the soap into his skin while your left hand roamed wistfully across his body, working like a phantom puff. You coated his chest and arms with suds and were working on scrubbing his sternum when he hummed and dropped his forehead on the crown of your head.

And then the moment was shattered.

Your eyes blinked a mile a minute and both of your hands froze mid scrub.

What. Were. You. Doing?

Your brain caught up to your actions and you and Joker locked eyes at the same time.

"Andthatshowyouuseshowergel!" You spun around and wished for a swift death.

Maybe he would be generous and snap your neck quickly. No fuss no muss or perhaps since you two were still in the shower he could find something to slit your throat with. That way he could clean himself and the crime scene like a two for one deal.

Writing a hit thriller series educated your mind on the many ways to kill a person.

It was all bad for your health. You could add this to the list of things to discuss with your therapist if you ever made it out of this shower alive. You were about to bang your head against the subway tiles when you heard Joker speak up behind you.

"Mmm, thanks for the demonstration Y/n, but can you uh.. get my back while you're at it?"

You must've shook your head because Joker bent down and rested his chin in the crook of your neck, humming again. Just what on Earth was he doing?!

"Pretty please? You did such a good job already.."

He didn't mean to tease you this time, he was just stating the obvious but your praise kink took his words and created a new narrative with them.

You were doing your best impression of a tomato despite your dark complexion. You didn't know you could visibly blush until you met Joker!

Your cheeks were constantly on fire whenever you were around him and your levels of embarrassment were constantly through the roof. You thought over every possible scenario of showering with Joker but not whatever this was! How could you not plan for this to happen??

It was even worse when you felt Joker lean more of his weight on you. You forgot he was supposed to be keeping weight off his leg.

Was he getting tired already? Or was he just messing with you? So far he kept his hands to himself so maybe it was the former?

You turned your head a bit to see Joker's head of seaweed waterlogged and dripping with water. You didn't grab any shampoo. Yeah. You really didn't think any of this through.

Maybe your mind was too preoccupied with the physical action of showering with Joker that it didn't plan out what all was required to complete said task. This was a huge failure and you had no other choice but to commit to it.

Joker was far too quiet for your liking. "Hey Joker, you okay?" All you received was a content little hum. It was raw and soft on the ears. Comforting.

It spelled trouble for your heart.

"Okay... then can you get off my shoulder?"

"Why?" He cooed.

"Be-because I can't wash your back if you're leaning on me, that's why! Geez you're acting like a big baby." You heard, more like, felt him sigh before he stepped back and turned around.

He balanced his weight on the tiles in front of him giving you the full expanse of his back to admire and wash.

The steam still curled around his frame so you decided to use that as the stopping point. You refused to go past his hips. For both his sanity and yours.

You took a deep breath and started scrubbing lazy circles into his shoulders blades, working down.

Your water bill this month would be insane but you didn't have to worry about the actual hot water running out. With the amount of money you paid for rent, the (expensive) penthouse water heater had an unlimited reservoir for your floor.

Now that you were aware of your actions, scrubbing Joker's back was rather awkward.

This whole situation of harboring him inside your apartment was awkward yet you suffered through it. You couldn't escape this far in the game.

Some time passed and Joker's back was completely clean. You nodded at your work and tapped his shoulder twice. "I'm done, you can turn around now."

You were wringing out the loofah, lost in your own world and didn't see the looming shadow coming closer.

By the time you caught onto his schemes it was too late.

Joker wasn't kidding when he said a group of people could be comfortable in here with no issues but the fact that he managed to walk up on you without you noticing him was concerning. You were standing near the opposite end of the shower, quite a distance away from him.

You were convinced that Joker wasn't as injured as you originally thought. He sure wasn't acting like someone with a gunshot wound.

You dropped the shower puff the second Joker began invading your personal space.

His height, the heat from the shower, his imposing aura, it all got to your head. You were backpedaling until your back hit the wall with nowhere else to go. The predator had finally stalked its prey.

Joker didn't speak, he just gazed into your eyes with that unreadable stare you couldn't put into words. Just what was he thinking? Nothing gave him away.

He didn't blink, you didn't move, and tiny beads of black from his eyeshadow dripped down his face like tears that didn't help ease the tense situation you found yourself in.

So many nefarious thoughts could be forming inside his brain. Your cause of death, a not-so funny joke, for all you knew he could pass out from the heat— so you waited for his next move with bated breath.

It came in the form of his arms caging your body further into the lukewarm subway tiles. His palms came to a rest beside your head and just like that; you were at his mercy.

Since he was so close you could smell your shower gel and it smelled heavenly on him. Letting him use it was a great idea. It coaxed you into a druglike state, making your head empty and your worries obsolete.

Joker let his eyes roam freely over your body since he could see better in the steam than you.

Your clothes clung to you like a second skin and he was very thankful you opted out on wearing a bra.

Were you trying to seduce him here? The way you opened your eyes and sent him an alluring glance, he had no doubt that you were. You really were a naïve little minx.

There was no need for underhanded tactics when you were a sight for sore eyes. A droplet of water was caught on your lower lip and it became a beacon to his gaze.

Perhaps he could find out what your lips tasted like..

You saw his intentions, it was clear as day on his face. You wanted to avoid this ever since you met Joker but apparently it was inevitable. In the short time you've known him, common sense was forgotten and you gave up your attempts to stay away from Joker.

In some demented way, you craved Joker's attention and his touch. The thought of 'what would kissing him feel like?' flashed across your mind.

'I want to know.' The confession echoed loudly inside your head. It both empowered and terrified you. It was time to stop denying it. You were screwed, but you needed to know.

However, the situation you found yourself in was still scary.

"J-Joker. Wait." You couldn't remember the last time you let a man this close both physically and emotionally. You needed a moment.

He didn't like you being bashful around him. Your eyes dropped low and you turned away from him. It hit a nerve and he just couldn't have that. He needed your attention on him, always.

Joker said your name softly and it echoed over the running water to your ears. It was too gentle, bordering on being manipulative, and you shied away from him even more.

Why did you suddenly fear him? You hadn't before despite all the threats and hurtful comments he threw at you.

He never met a person that didn't fear him. A person who actually enjoyed his presence. He came too far to lose this feeling. There was something about you that he needed to understand and your sudden fear of him was something he couldn't handle.

Your closed off demeanor wasn't an issue but he didn't want to scare you off. For some odd reason he cared about your feelings. He... never cared about another person before.

Joker thought about what a normal person would do in this situation and in a blink of an eye, he acted.

You were startled by the sudden contact.

"Shhhh." Joker cooed and brushed the back of his hand from your temple down your cheek.

He then seized the back of your neck. You winced at his grip; he paid it no mind.

There. Those big, expressive e/c eyes of yours were back on him. As they should be.

He was breathing heavily and with the hot steam from the shower adding to the already stifling air in the room, your breath was labored as well. You'd be lying if you said this version of Joker scared you. You blamed this unhealthy attraction to him on the dark fanfics you read in your downtime.

Joker's eyes roamed the entirety of your face, memorizing every blemish, the faint flush across the bridge of your nose, down to the swirling colors within your eyes he was beginning to love..

But the most important feature of yours captured his eye the longest. Your parted lips were still moist from the shower's humidity and the (sinful) action of you licking them with your tongue, drew him insane.

It was a toss up. Your eyes did something to him but so did your lips. He should be stronger than this. Having a soft spot for a woman was a huge no no in his profession.

How did you have this much power over him in such a short amount of time? It was embarrassing yet he chose to accept it. You were a temptation that he would gladly allow to ruin him from the inside out.

"Just let things happen, Y/n."

Let me do this, was what he truly wanted to say. "You'll find life is a lot more enjoyable that way."

Please don't run away.

The last wall of your subconscious fell in order to let Joker in. With every word he whispered, with each gentle caress on your skin, Joker sweet talked his way in and won you over. And this time, you didn't run away from him.

You simply let things happen.

You closed your eyes, missing his smug grin, and let him take the lead. He pulled you in closer and you could feel the heat of his breath brush against your lower lip, your own slightly parting open, preparing for what was to come.

However a ringtone rang out inside the bathroom like a sitcom record scratch. Your eyes flew open and began locating your phone inside the bathroom.

Without glancing back at a fuming Joker, you darted out of the shower to go answer it.

This had to be some kind of joke. Maybe you were a tease after all. Joker stood in the shower trying to collect his thoughts because there was no way you left him hanging right as he was about to kiss you.

He pulled some cruel jokes in his career but this topped the cake. No matter how many times he blinked, you weren't there in his arms and this was seriously happening.

He punched the wall, cracking a few tiles here and there, but his anger remained. He was so close! It seemed like every chance he got to try and kiss you, fate had to intervene.

Sharp green eyes cut over to your figure standing by the sink, completely unaware of the ticking time bomb you left behind. What phone call was so important that you had to dash out of the shower to answer it?

Was it him? Joker saw red at the mere thought of Gotham's playboy calling you at a time like this.

If it ended up being Wayne on the line, Joker had far too many ways to end the millionaire's life. Joker was breathing like a bull ready to charge when he happened to hear your voice float across the room.

You knew that ringtone by heart. No matter the time or however busy you were, come hell or high water, you always answered the phone for your manager. Period.

You ignored how your clothes dripped on the floor as you stepped out of the shower.

The tank top clung to you like a second skin and once out the spray of water it felt uncomfortable, but your focus was on your phone resting on the edge of the sink. How it kept its balance was beyond you with the constant vibrations sounding off from the device.

A candid selfie of Cindy was on the screen until you accepted the call with an airy hello.

"Woah, you sound out of breath. Did I catch you at a bad time?" She asked.

Of course she would notice. The woman was very perceptive, both on the job and as a friend. "No no.. it's fine. I was in the middle of something. It's alright, I know you're a busy woman."

It was silent on her end so you carried on, "Soooo.. what's up? I get the feeling this isn't a friendly check in." You panted.

"Ding ding ding! You know me so well. I'm afraid this is a business call. It shouldn't take long, I only have two things I need to address. Number one: this Friday night. I already scheduled you to attend a gala at The Prosperity for another networking opportunity."

She was halfway into another sentence when your brain reacted to her first announcement.

"What!? What do you mean this Friday? Cindy.. that's in less than two days! Can you give a girl a little more breathing room to charge her social bar before you make plans that huge?!"

You were already freaking out, pacing the length of the bathroom.

"Oh calm down, Y/n. You're a natural at communicating with others." She paused for a second to snort. "I can see your unamused face through the phone. Two days is plenty of time to 'charge your introverted social battery'. Geez, I didn't have to remind you at all, you know. Remember what happened last time?"

How could you forget? You rolled your eyes at the memory. "I won't raincheck last minute. I promise. I'll go."

"You better! I already took the liberty of ordering a dress to your place so no excuses about you not having anything to wear. I also have transportation planned so don't even think about it. I'm covering my bases this time."

Cindy really wasn't playing around this time. Maybe you should stop being such a difficult client and work with her. After all, she was doing this to help you and your career.

"Figures you would." You heard her hum of agreement followed by a flurry of keyboard clicks in the background.

"With you involved, I have to. The package should arrive by," a series of clicks rang out. She must've gotten a longer set of acrylics than normal.

"...tomorrow morning if it moves out of the New Jersey terminal overnight."

"To confirm. You can track a delivery in real time but you can't remind me of a party a week in advance? And I thought we were friends, Cindy." You looked at your reflection in the mirror and snuck a peek at the figure bent over in the shower.

Was he pissed that you took this phone call? You weren't ready to face him afterwards to find out. You hoped Joker understood it was important.

"I'm doing this because we are friends. The official invitations were sent out three months in advance. I knew you would've flaked if you knew that far ahead. This gala is really important Y/n! I ordered the best dress for you to schmooze and minge in so work those assets of yours! I got high people in high places attending. Try to make a deal or even better, start a fling with a screenwriter. At this point, trashy press is still press and you need all the attention you can get."

You held back your laughter. Assets? Trashy press? Was she serious?

"You're getting desperate now Cindy."

"No, you are getting desperate, Y/n. Which reminds me. The second reason why I called you. Y/n.. your deadline is fast approaching. Four weeks to be exact. I don't want to lose you.. but—"

Great. Now you had her worrying. You knew your contract was expiring soon.

The calendar on your phone reminded you each passing week. Your fingers itched to get new material out to the public but these things required patience. You couldn't rush perfection but you knew she had a job to do.

"I'm working on something." You mumbled over the phone.

From the awkward silence stretching afterwards, Cindy wasn't buying it.

She drummed her nails on her desk. "Are you writing something down in your notepad or are you actually typing something out working working? I need clarification here."

"I-I have over five thousand words typed out. In our normal place."

"What? Why haven't you shared the document with me?! Do you like stressing me out, Y/n?" She did sound stressed, but that could just be Cindy's normal voice.

Either way, you felt guilty even though it wasn't entirely your fault you forgot to share the document. Joker just had a way of distracting you. Not like she would believe that excuse. He was a secret after all.

Speaking of secrets, you jumped at the sound of the shower turning off. Joker must have realized you weren't returning and decided to get out.

"Well.. um. You see uh.. I've been.." You looked behind you as Joker was wrapping a towel around his waist.

Your brain shut down right then and there. The view from the front was definitely better than the back.

"Y/n? Y/n! I know you hear me! I can hear your creepy fangirl breathing!" Cindy screamed over the phone.

You couldn't tear your eyes from Joker but it was common courtesy to respond. Your eyes didn't waver from him as you answered.

"I've been busy." You didn't lie.

"Y/n, you can't fool me, I heard your shower turn off. Got some company over huh? OHHHH! That's why you answered the phone out of breath! Well well well! Someone doesn't need trashy press like I thought! Unfortunately if he isn't a movie producer you're gonna have to be a slut for the weekend and fool around. Hopefully your guy will understand."

Cindy spoke to someone else, most likely her assistant, and sighed before returning to your phone conversation.

"Something's come up. Just look nice on Friday okay? I won't be attending but I'll have eyes at the event to keep tabs on you so no rain checks! Socialize, make connections, possibly with someone we can work with. Oh and Y/n? I really don't want your deadline to sneak up on you. Please email me an invite to the word document so it can count as submitted work."

"It won't Cindy, I promise." She really knew how to pull the strict editor role on you.

"...before your deadline Y/n. We both know you get distracted easily. I gotta go."

Cindy ended the call before you could say a proper goodbye. You were left dripping wet and fully clothed in your bathroom, wondering how your life could get any more stressful.

"Hmm, sounds like someone's weekend is already planned ouT for them."

You screamed as Joker's fingers danced across your exposed shoulders. For a second you forgot he was in the room. Your heart was beating fast but you turned around to face the music.

To your shock he wasn't angry or at least he didn't look like it.

He looked calm as he used another towel to soak up the water from his hair. You noticed during your phone call he found some kind of shampoo to wash it with for it looked healthier and less like oily seaweed and more like something you wanted to rake your hands through.

Where did that thought come from? You didn't lie, but the thought worried you a bit.

'A few minutes ago you were about to kiss him in the shower Y/n. Did you think playing with his hair is somehow worse?'

It was official, your own mind was against you. You cleared your throat getting Joker's attention. He was still standing in front of you in just a towel creating a puddle of water on the floor.

You raised an eyebrow, "Did you not towel dry yourself?"

"I barely turned off the shower correctly. Your floors can stand a lit-tle water, Y/n." Joker scoffed and ruffled his head with the towel.

The end result gave his hair a fluffy, wild mop of curls. You were a little jealous.

There was too much of him to focus on at once, although you pointedly avoided looking at his exposed chest and below.

"Yeah sure. Did you finish washing up? I mean, I got your front and back but I didn't.." You trailed off, scratching your neck and looking away.

He really hated when you did that. "Hmm, I had no choice since you left to take a phone call."

So he was angry. He just didn't show it. You sighed and gave Joker your best apologetic smile.

You walked over and gestured for him to bend down to your height. "Sorry about that. That was my manager and we kinda have an agreement. I always answer the phone when she calls. No exceptions."

You took over drying him off. It was definitely not an excuse to touch him but you knew that was a lie.

You were working on his arms and shoulders. "I forgot to share my current WIP with her and now she's upset with me even though I–"

Joker cut you off, "I'm well aware, Y/n. I heard every word." You looked up into his green eyes, shocked.

There was nothing there to help decipher his actual mood.

His clown makeup had all but melted in the shower with only the remainder left surrounding his eyelids and mouth. The rest was wisps of white and red, smudged and faint.

You didn't think before you reached up and used your thumb to wipe a trace of red from the corner of his mouth. The area there was raised and bumpy from his scars but surprisingly smooth to the touch.

Joker parted his mouth and the motion moved your finger onto his lip. You lurched back like you touched burning coals. "I'm sorry!"

He smacked his lips while rolling his eyes. You acted more like a mouse than a bunny, jumping at every ounce of contact. Were you always this guarded or was it only around him? Joker could tell there was a wall between you and him but for a brief moment, it was down.

How long would it take to earn your trust again and knock it back down? He only had another week left. Could he manage such a feat?

One glance at your timid hands patting his right arm immediately told him no, but Joker was a man of challenges.

If it was deemed impossible he would still try it. He needed to understand why you were so brave yet stupid, smart yet ditzy; Beautiful and untouchable.

He shouldn't be this attracted to you. He had plans to execute, a city to burn.

There was no time to play house with a weak civilian, yet here he was doing just that. Staying at your place, eating your meals and enjoying your company– as brief as it was these past few days.

Today was different. You came to him and initiated conversation.

You offered to help him shower and graced him with a smile. Was this a nudge in the right direction with you?

Excluding the phone call that ruined his advances, Joker had you right where he wanted you; cornered and at his mercy.

The scene couldn't be more perfect and Joker knew there wouldn't be another chance (at least for a while) to get what he wanted. Maybe he would have to use force.

Unfortunately he knew that would only push you away and possibly get him kicked out of your apartment. No, he would have to play this like a game of chess, slowly and with a level head in order to win.

He had all the time in the world to corner you again. He just couldn't screw up again.

"Joker?" He heard your voice call out to him. How long was he stuck in his head?

"Hey, where did your mind go?" You blessed him with a laugh and stepped into his line of sight.

"Well.. wherever you went.. I dried you off the best I could. I'll leave you to redo your makeup while I go fetch you some clean clothes to wear. I think leaving your wound open to breathe is also a good idea. Everything else is on the table by the window but if you need me or something else, just shout. I'll be in the next room changing the bed."

Joker nodded mutely and limped over to the table you mentioned.

It was more like a mini vanity with various makeup products and brushes already in neat cupholders and bins. He never saw you wear makeup around the apartment and he decided to ask you about it later.

You smiled as he sat down on the bench and closed the door, leaving Joker alone to his thoughts.

Ever since he met you a week ago the main focus of said thoughts were always you. What he wouldn't do to get you out of his head. Dealing with you physically was more than enough.

He spent too much time dwelling on you today. Joker searched for a makeup cleanser and stumbled upon your phone still on the sink, unlocked for the time being.

Fate was tempting him this day.

He could snoop around your phone, check your web history for blackmail, ruin your chances with Wayne with a single text, the possibilities were endless!

The screen began to dim preparing to lock and he only had a few precious seconds before his window of opportunity closed. The chaos he could invoke with your phone was too much for him to pass up.

Then he thought about your phone call with your manager. She made plans for you this Friday at The Prosperity.

It was a ritzy hall where even richer members of Gotham gathered to talk about nothing and flaunt their money and prestige to each other. But the event itself sparked a memory in his mind. This Friday. What was so special about this particular Friday?

Then it hit him.

Before your phone could lock, Joker picked it up and dialed a number.

After you closed the bathroom door, you sighed loudly. You almost kissed Joker. Again. This was the second time, third strike, and you were out.

You slapped your cheeks groaning to yourself, 'No there won't be a third time!'

Right now you couldn't afford to think about that. Your focus was set on preparing Joker's bed and getting started on tonight's dinner. One task at a time was your game plan. Processing what happened in the shower could wait until bedtime. Or never.

You walked over to the bed and peeled the top cover back to inspect the sheets underneath. You found they were still fresh enough for Joker to use. The pillowcases however had to go.

With a task at hand, the time ticked by without your knowledge. It didn't dawn on you to check on Joker in the bathroom.

You knew it would take some time to apply his makeup but you were so focused on changing his bed and laying out an outfit for him you didn't realize that you drifted into the laundry room to wash the bedding and somehow ended up in the kitchen all in the span of an hour.

You were chopping up ingredients for Pad Thai when you had the idea to play some music.

"[insert phone carrier AI], shuffle my music please."

Nothing happened.

You stopped julienning a carrot and looked around the room for your phone.

You changed out of your wet clothes and it wasn't in the pockets, leaving your phone in no other place but where you left an hour prior. Still in the bathroom with Joker.

One exhale later, you left your meal prep in the kitchen to go retrieve your phone. If you were cooking you would do so with music blasting.

You opted out of wearing socks and your favorite color nail polish adorned your toes as you made your way back to the guest bedroom. The spare bedding you chose still matched the décor and you noticed the clothes you laid out on the foot of the bed were gone.

It was an indicator that Joker had left the bathroom in the past hour.

You knocked on the door, calling out for him. At first you didn't hear anything until you pressed your ear to the wood and picked up on a one way conversation. Was he talking to himself? At this point that wasn't concerning, Joker was indeed touched in the head.

"I don't care what you have to do. Don't blow your cover.. duh.. but keep an eye on the... Yes. I told you this'll be easyyy. The target."

You located your phone but why was Joker using it? You wouldn't dare ask how he got past your passcode.

Apparently the person on the other end had a lot to say since it was quiet for a few minutes until Joker responded.

He made that nondescript hum of his– the one that wasn't a sigh nor a grunt, just a noise that only he made, though this one sounded frustrated.

"I haven't decided yet. You'll know more once you geT there." There was a loud thud through the door that made you jump.

"Do your job.. but have fun doing it, mmkay? Track and then destroy. You know what to do from here."

Track and destroy? Have fun? Targets? You knew Joker was a man of pure evil but his calm demeanor about it sent a chill down your spine. Who did he just put a hit on? What was going on? This was beyond what you agreed upon.

You backed away from the door in fear. Until now, you only saw a domestic side of Joker.

Sure he threatened you a few times, but he didn't display any of his more violent tendencies during his stay with you. He was nothing but mannerable despite being a madman.

How could you forget that crucial detail? He wasn't a normal houseguest. Joker was a murderer– the most dangerous one in all of Gotham and actively wanted by the GCPD for escaping and killing nineteen people.

Just because you served him daily meals in bed and asked him if he liked ginseng tea or Earl Grey, didn't mean you were safe around him. You couldn't trust the devil personified and you definitely shouldn't make friends with him either.

His secret phone call was your wake up call. You had to remember to send Cindy a bouquet of flowers for calling you when she did. If Joker had kissed you in the shower, where would you be right now?

You didn't need that toxic thinking in your life. You needed to protect yourself and put up a permanent wall between you and Joker. There couldn't be any more room for errors. Whatever chemistry that was brewing between you and the jokester had to stop now.

With your mind made up, you waited a few more minutes before knocking on the door again.

Another vague hum from Joker granted you entry.

Of course you didn't know what to expect when you walked in but seeing Joker seated at the vanity with a fresh coat of clown makeup on while wearing a light grey shirt with black sweatpants (thankfully you had sense to not buy grey) was not at the top of your list.

After that phone call you didn't know anything about him anymore. Like you knew anything to begin with..

He turned to face you with a pensive glare. Did he suspect you overheard his conversation? You waited long enough not to be suspicious– your book research taught you about that reoccurring troupe in various media.

Apparently he did. "How much did ya hear?"

If you remembered correctly, experts said to deflect the accusation. You blurted out of the first thing that came to mind.

"I see the clothes fit, that's good." You pointed at his clothes making him look down.

He looked good in casual attire although you wouldn't admit that aloud. The shirt was snug but offered him breathing room whereas the sweats you dug out of storage (an ex of yours left them ages ago) fit him a little too well. You had to go clothes shopping for him before you jumped his bones.

"What did you hear?" Joker asked again.

Don't look away, it's a sign of guilt. You thought.

"Why were you using my phone?" You walked over to the vanity and snatched it off. It was locked and your phone screen glowed, prompting you to enter your passcode.

"Pause. How did you unlock my phone Joker?" He narrowed his eyes at your attempt to interrogate him.

The fact you were trying to change the subject confirmed you heard something and given the topic of his conversation, that wasn't good.

He didn't make contact with his crew in days and used your phone as a burner of sorts to keep his operations up and running to execute an off the table mission. The phone call was long and nothing said was for the faint of heart.

Joker wanted to protect you from this, he just wasn't consciously aware of that yet.

You crossed your arms using the height difference to look down at Joker seated. He didn't look intimidated in the slightest. He propped his arm on the vanity and began a staring contest with you.

He was used to being tortured by seasoned cops, wardens, the criminally insane, even Batman himself. What were you gonna do?

You pouted your lip and batted your lashes, throwing in an adorable huff in for better results. No matter how tough Joker thought he was, no one could resist your puppy dog face.

Joker blinked, shifted, and resisted the urge to look away but your eyes were hypnotic– using unnatural powers against him. He folded faster than he'd like to admit.

You smirked and leaned in close (Joker thought for a second you were going to kiss him) and bopped his freshly painted nose. "Ha! I win! Now, who did you call? You're acting like I can't go to my call history and see the number."

You did just that but ran into a problem. It was gone.

"Judging by your face.. they already destroyed the call trace. It's none of your business, Bunny." Joker stood up to stretch and the helm of his shirt rose up, letting you see a row of muscles.

You cleared your throat, looking away.

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unlocked around strangers Y/n." He made a move towards you, "It's.. not.. safe." By the end of his warning, he towered over you, looking down at you with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

You definitely heard him order someone's murder. It was the only explanation as to why he needed to erase the phone call.

This was a murderer standing before you. If he wasn't in your apartment, he would be out on the streets of Gotham wreaking havoc. You had to remember that fact and never forget it.

Your mouth flopped like a fish as the words became stuck in your throat. What could you say after overhearing his phone call? Nothing. So you decided to distance yourself and feign ignorance.

You closed your eyes. "Well, I ahem. I'm glad you got to shower and freshen up. I-I changed the bed for you and I'm working on dinner."

You were still ignoring him. Two could play this game then. "Oh? What're we having?" Joker asked.

How could he be so casual about this? Tears threatened to fall from your eyes and you didn't understand why you were so bent out of shape about it.

You invited him into your home to save your own hide. You didn't sign up to be an accomplice. You were technically a hostage. Your generosity and kindness was done purely out of survival.

So why did your heart squeeze at the thought of Joker going behind your back?

You had no ties to him despite your feelings trying to make something out of nothing.

"Um. Pad Thai with fresh spring rolls and bok choy. I should um g-get back to cooking. Yeah. Cooking..." You turned to leave but Joker's hand reached out and grabbed yours.

It wasn't clammy like when he was bleeding out on your couch. Now it was warm with pronounced calluses on the palms.

You didn't want to know what weapon he frequently used in order to form them. It was hard to ignore the way his hand fit perfectly in yours like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

Somehow Joker read your thoughts and squeezed your hand, not letting go.

He could sense the brick wall forming that separated you from him. He didn't want to be iced out, not again.

He didn't like the emptiness your absence left behind. This was all new and confusing to him and you weren't helping him understand any of it!

"Y/n. Whatever you heard, it's not what you think."

He mourned the loss of your hand when you fled towards the door.

"I'll call you when dinner is ready." You mumbled over your shoulder.

And just like that Joker knew. He was back to square one. Perhaps even further from earning your trust.

[gemstoneconstellations]

The Happiest Place on Earth

Summary: Epilogue to Angle with a Shotgun. Watch how Bakugo tried and tried again to ask you one simple question.

Word Count: 2443

A/N: thank @voicesoffiction for this, they inspired me to do something for AWS since I was already doing some for HBAN and they also suggested this idea to me. Thank you again!

“So Fujio has had his quirk the whole time?” You placed down a red seven on the tray in front of you. Katsuki and you were on a bullet train heading towards Disneyland to celebrate your one-year anniversary. To pass the time, the two of you played Uno as Bakugo told you the story of how a boys camping trip with Fujio led to them finding out Fujio already had his quirk.

Katsuki placed down a blue seven. Damn, no blue. “Apparently. Ei couldn’t remember him ever scraping his knee before or having to kiss any ‘boo-boos’.” He smirked as you had to draw a card; lucky for you, it was blue.  Katsuki scoffed as he looked over his cards. “Guess it also explains why he didn't get hurt when Dunce Face dropped him that one time as a baby.”

You gasped, smacking him in the arm as he laid down his card. “Bad Uncle Suki.”

Katsuki frowned at you, making you laugh. “The fuck. It wasn’t my fault. Shitty Hair is the one who trusted him to watch his infant alone.”

“Hmmm, I still can’t believe he jumped in the firepit and came out fine.” That was not a phone call you ever expected to receive from Katsuki. You could hear Kirishima’s panicked rambling in the background as you were told the camping trip was going to be cut short and they were on their way to take little Fujio to the hospital. Turned out that his pretend hero name he uses for games was pretty accurate; he really is the Unbreakable Fuji

“My first thought was, ‘Shit, the kid is seriously hurt, there goes my fucking bed and Ei’s balls.’ Remember, you can’t tell anyone about how we found out his quirk, especially his mother.” You snorted into your cards when Katsuki gave you a serious look, like your life depended on keeping this secret.

“Yeah, I know. And it’s our bed now, mister.” You slam down a yellow two. “Uno.”

Katsuki’s nose flared, glaring at his hand that held ten cards, while you were on your last one. “You are fucking cheating.” He changed the color to red, smirking, thinking he’d caught you. The poor fool.

You bat your eyelashes at him. “It’s all about luck sweetie. And I win.” You place a wild plus four down. He gaped at it before slamming his hand down and pushed the cards away, completely done after losing three times in a row.

He crossed his arms, staring out the window pouting. You smile and scoot closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Katsuki’s body relaxed as you snuggled against him, one of his hands grabbing yours and weaving your fingers together. “Not competitive, my ass,” he grumbled as he rested his head against yours.

“Shhhh, I’m sleeping,” you giggled, closing your eyes to sleep the rest of the way to your destination. The two of you had left before the sun rose so you would get to the park early. Within minutes, you were out cold.

Katsuki was jealous of how you were able to relax so easily while he was trying not to show how panicked he was on the inside. A small box weighed heavily in his pocket.

~

Katsuki grumbled from the table, chewing on his straw as he watched you gush over the fucking park actor dressed like a duck in a sailor outfit. Second attempt at a proposal foiled. He’d first tried at the park entrance, wanting to pop the question in front of the sign that said “Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth���, potentially making that one spot literally the happiest place on earth for the both of you. The plan was to have him go through the metal detector with the ring in his pocket, setting it off, and having the security guard in on it pull the two of you to the side by the sign and have him take out the ring. 

But nooooooo. You have to be so connected to your inner child that you ran ahead without him to grab an itinerary and a map before he even had a chance to scan his ticket. The security guard patted his shoulder, sympathetic. 

Then at lunch, he tried to do that cheesy, ‘Oh, what’s that in my dessert? A ring?’. Nope. Before he could even order the dessert and slip the waitress the ring, you saw that fucking duck waddle his ass over and suddenly your boyfriend didn’t fucking exist. 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Katsuki slammed a few bills on the table and walked towards you, ignoring the bewildered waitress and not caring about his change.

You were waving goodbye to the stupid duck when he took hold of your wrist, pulling you away. “Come on, glow worm, we got more ground to cover.” 

Time to go to plan C: the giant ass princess castle, the most stereotypical place to propose at this particular park. He knows you’d enjoy it, so who fucking cares at this point. He just wants to put the damn thing on your finger already. 

“It doesn't matter how many times I see it, I’m still in awe,” you sigh, leaning against the railing as you admire the castle. Katsuki wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You know you can go inside? If you are willing to pay the price, you can eat in the ballroom and even get married right where Cinderella met her Prince Charming. So romantic.”

“I like the original better. Especially the eye gouging part.” You elbow him in the gut, making him chuckle. He watched as you took a few more pictures of the castle. It was time. 

Katsuki cleared his throat as he dug into his pocket for the box. “You know, if you wanted, we could be one of those people willing to pay the—”

                                              BOOOM BOOOM

Over on Main Street, confetti cannons went off. A fucking parade with floats slowly moving down the road had randomly started up. Why is there a fucking parade!?!?! You launched yourself out of his arms, your body knocking into his hand holding the box and sending it to the ground. “Fuck!”

“It’s 2 p.m. already?! Come on, Katsuki.” Not even looking back, you ran off to get a good view. Katsuki groaned as he searched the ground for the box. 

He found it, but he’d completely lost you. “Are you fucking serious? Does the fucking universe hate me? What did I do to deserve this?!” Katsuki dragged his hands down his face. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he started to look for you. Lucky for him, your quirk made you stick out. At least he knew you were happy.

After the parade, Bakugo let you drag him onto a miniature train that would take you to the other side of the park with a wildlife tour on the way there. One more attempt. While you stepped away to use the bathroom, he waited right by the entrance to the platform to get a chance to convince the conductor about helping him propose. He had the best chance on this train. No mascots for you to run off to, no extra loud distractions, and no way you could run off without him again. You were trapped to sit through his entire proposal whether you liked it or not….hopefully you did like it….

Katsuki was starting to grind his teeth, becoming more irritated. Where the hell was the conductor? His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He turned around and answered when he saw who was calling. “What do you want, dumbass?”

“Did you do it yet?! Did she say yes? Of course she did, I’m so proud.” Kirishima’s overly cheerful voice rambled on as Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose.

Through gritted teeth, he groaned. “I didn’t ask yet.”

“What? You guys have been there for hours! Why the hell not? You get cold feet, bro?”

Katsuki gripped his hair in frustration. “NO! I tried three god damn times! Happiest place on earth, my ass. This fucking place is the worst; why did I think this place would be good? It’s fucking full of distractions and interruptions left and right. I’m lucky enough for her to be next to me for a solid five minutes. I take my eyes off her for a second and she’s fucking gone!”

“Did you even plan it out? Or are you winging it like when you fight?”

He rolled his eyes, turning away from the people who were shooting him looks. “I had a plan; I had three. All failed! I got one more idea but if this goes down the shitter too, I give up for today.” Katsuki was starting to think he should have planned something more isolated like his friend; that had been a smarter idea than what he’d been doing all day.

Kirishima hummed in understanding. “I’m sorry, bro.”

“Is that Uncle Suki? I want to talk to him!” Fujio’s little voice whined over the line.

“Not now, kiddo.” That wasn’t the right thing to say to a four-year-old who had been experiencing more mood swings.

A loud wail rang through the phone; Katsuki yanked it away from his ear in surprise. “Hey, put a cork in the fucking brat before he damages my ear drums.” Kirishima tried to shush Fujio and promised that he could talk to Katsuki later tonight but that wasn’t good enough.

“Are you talking to Fujio?” Katsuki jumped as you stepped up beside him. His head shot up towards the front of the train. The conductor was already there setting up. Fuck. “Hi Fujio! Why are you crying sweetie?”

“Shit.” Well maybe he could still do it on the train ride, it’s not that big of a deal to get the staff involved.

Yeah, he can do this. You’ll calm down the little shit fast and then you both will go on the train.

“Of course I can talk to you. I heard you got your quirk Fujio! That’s so cool, do you want to tell me about it?” 

“All aboard!” The conductor yelled as the gates opened. Okay, so you’ll talk for a bit on the phone. That’s fine. Everything is fine. The two of you sat in a booth as you kept talking to Fujio, listening to him talk about his newly discovered quirk.

The train started to move and you were still on the phone. “No, don't worry about it, Kirishima. I don't mind talking to him. We are only on the train ride getting to the other side of the park. I got time.”

Why….why did he have to fall for a decent person? Your kindness is completely screwing with him right now. You kept talking to Fujio, working out his emotions with him and making him feel better. It’s a good reminder of the qualities that had made him fall for you but why did it have to happen now?

The train was arriving at your stop when you finally said goodbye to Fujio. Katsuki was mentally and physically exhausted; he dragged his feet as he got off the train. You handed the phone back to him, not noticing the scowl on his face was not the same as his usual one. “I’m so sorry, bro.”

“You’re dead to me.” Kirishima whimpered into the phone causing him to sigh. “.... for the rest of the day….I’ll fucking talk to you later, Shitty Hair.”

After hanging up, Katsuki let you drag him wherever your heart desired. You fluttered around like an excited glowing butterfly, having to see every inch of everything. Seeing you glow so much did raise his spirit a bit. You being this happy from just being with him here was worth the amount of time and preparation to get here, even if he didn’t get to do what he came here for.

“No… anything but that,” that was the final straw that broke him. The ultimate torture. The ride straight from hell. It’s A Small World After All. Fuck whoever wrote that damn song; Katsuki would howitzer his has into space if he could right now.

You pulled on his arm, dragging him over to the ride. “Please, for me.” He groaned towards the sky as he was easily pulled into the little boat. He sat in the boat like a grump as you sang along to the song before you’d even entered the tunnel.

Katsuki could already feel a migraine coming on. He better get some therapy sex for the trauma you were putting him through on this ride. With his eyes shut, he tried to tune everything out. Finally everything was quiet….wait, the boat had stopped moving. 

He sat up straighter as his eyes opened to see only darkness. “What the fuck happened?”

“Attention, guests!” Someone who sounded like they were using a megahorn shouted down the tunnel. “There was a small powersurge and a few of the rides are currently without power. Please stay inside the ride until the problem has been resolved. Once everything has been fixed and you get off, everyone will be given a free meal token to any restaurant at our park. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Well that fucking sucks,” Katsuki grumbled. Fingers slid across his bare arms as you quickly latched yourself onto him as soon as you were able to find him. He could feel you trembling slightly. “Are you scared?”

“It’s a little creepy to be sitting in the dark with all those dolls staring at you,” you mumbled into his arm. 

He sighed, leaning back and letting you cling to him. “Relax, I’m here dumbass. I’ll always be here for you.” You smiled against his shoulder, humming happily as you held his arm closer to your slightly glowing body. Fuck it, he came here to do one thing and damn it, he’s going to do it. “You know that, right? I’ll do anything for you, even get on a stupid ass ride like this. Cause you love it and I love you.”

His free arm reached into his pocket as the room became even brighter. Now he can clearly see your smiling face right in front of him. “I love you too, Katsuki.” 

You leaned in for a kiss, but he stopped you as he whispered, “Prove it.”

“Prove it? How?” You pulled back and furrowed your brows.

“I've been waiting all day for this. You better fucking say yes.” Finally, Katsuki held up the open box to you. “Be my wife, ___.”

[artificialqueens]

A Vampire in Paris: Part One (Gigi x Crystal) - Chae

A/N: aaaa it’s here, part one! i was NOT expecting it to be 3.4k words but i’m so so so proud of the dialogue in this chapter. if you can handle a bit of exposition to get to the crygi fluff i swear it’s worth it XD

Summary: Gigi Goode arrives in Paris to start preparing for Fashion Week, but what dark secret is her company hiding? What’s the deal with those three supermodels? And why is Crystal Methyd so damn adorable? 

We Begin

This couldn’t be happening. It felt wholly, totally, surreally unreal. Every dream Gigi Goode had ever dreamt seemed to be coming true at that very moment. The twenty-two year old had gone through immigration and baggage claim without really feeling much. When she met the Uber that was ordered to take her to the complex, she hadn’t felt much either. But now, as she drove through the streets of Paris, taking in the narrow paths and low buildings that completely contrasted the Los Angeles she was used to, she felt like she had arrived.

Crystal Methyd wasn’t exactly well-known, but she didn’t fly under the radar either. Anyone who spent more than two minutes researching modern fashion knew about her. She’d risen to popularity online through her wacky and interpretive, yet still fashionable, street style. Then, arguably the largest label in the world, ‘Fatelle,’ bought her company (as they did with about 90% of the fashion industry) and moved her to Paris. In a few weeks would be ‘The Methyd’s’ first showing for Paris Fashion Week, aka her ticket to worldwide fame and success, and Crystal had asked Gigi to model for her. She didn’t even know Crystal was allowed to choose her own models in the first place.

Gigi was used to having some spotlight. She’d amassed quite the following on Instagram and YouTube, which was how she got signed to her agency and apparently how Crystal had found her as well. Gigi was still dumbfounded by her luck, or talent, or universal power or whatever had gotten her to Paris to model for fashion week. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that fact when the car stopped in front of a huge building. It wasn’t modern or tall like businesses back home, but it took up an entire Parisian-sized block and stood a story or two higher than the average building. 

Gigi gripped her luggage, two roller-bag cases, a duffel bag, a small backpack, and a purse, and breathed out. She wanted to look confident and put-together when she met… whoever she was going to meet. Would it be Crystal? She’d been contacted by someone named ‘Trixie,’ so probably not, but one could hope. Gigi stepped forward, entering through the gigantic gold spinning door and coughing a bit as the scent of floral cleaning product wafted up her nose.

The lobby was pristine—spotless, sparkling, even, marble floors and marble walls and marble ceilings galore. The architecture was retro, yet the furniture seemed almost futuristic. Glass display cases flaunted the designers’ best works, particularly the original creator, Miss Fame’s, designs. She felt like every single person who would work here attended at least three fashion shows a week. The young model took a moment to admire her surroundings before her heels clicked all the way to the reception desk.

There, she was met with a strikingly familiar face, with a name tag to match.

“Excuse me—wait, are you-”

“Shhhh!” the woman seemed to perk up immediately at the prospect of being recognized, looking at Gigi frantically. “I’m nobody! I’m the receptionist.” She held a finger up to her lips.

“But your name tag, it even says-”

“My nametag doesn’t say shit!”

Gigi was a little surprised at how casual the other woman spoke to her, but blinked and continued.

“You aren’t even trying to hide it?”

“Well, not everybody is as smart as you and remembers photoshoots from forty years ago!”

“This is a fashion label’s headquarters!”

The woman paused, not knowing how to respond. “Okay, touché. Ya got me.”

“May I ask a question?”

“I mean… yeah?”

“How do you look the exact same as you did in the eighties?” Gigi was raising an eyebrow at Adore Delano, a female rock icon known for her raunchy photoshoots and close relationship to the Fatelle brand. Her hair and makeup changed, her clothes were different, too, of course, but she looked the same otherwise. What kind of ooky kooky hyaluronic acid was keeping a 60 year old woman looking 20?!

“Ask, and you will not receive,” Adore sighed, playing with her hair. “There are just some things you’d be safer… not knowing,” she smiled decidedly, pleased with her answer.

“Right,” Gigi grimaced, avoiding eye contact with the star.

“Anyway girl, what’s the sitch? What can I help you with?”

“Ah, yes of course, I’m here to meet.. well, someone. I’m a new model and I’m supposed to be staying here for a while.”

“Ohhh, you’re one of the international shipments coming in for fashion week. Which designer?”

“The Methyd.”

“Shut up!” Adore grinned, a twinkle in her eye. “Babe, you’re set for life. You better make a good impression on Crystal, she’s supposed to be the new thing and stuff!”

Gigi blushed. “Will I meet her today?” 

“Mmm,” Adore checked a computer screen, clicking a few buttons and squinting. “You’re supposed to meet with Trixie, so you’ll have to ask her.” She grabbed something from under her desk. “Gigi Goode, right?”

“That’s me. Good morning!”

“Party!” The older girl grinned, handing Gigi a small card. “That’s your room key—don’t lose it. Unless you wanna like, get stolen from.”

Gigi took the key, placing it in her purse. “Thank you, and noted. Do not get robbed.”

Suddenly, another voice joined the pair as a tall woman strode into the lobby, conversing on the phone. She was wearing a pink blazer-mini skirt set and white patent pumps, the outfit hugging her curves perfectly. Her hair was big and blonde, straight with iron-curled ringlets at the tips, and her big lips and long lashes completed the Barbie aesthetic. Her voice, however, was stern and confident, the complete opposite of her doll-like appearance. If this was Trixie, Gigi was already intimidated.

“Well, Brenda, tell Katya that I’ll call her back later, please,” she commanded, a short answer coming from the other end before Trixie interrupted, scolding the person in French before hanging up. She looked to Gigi with a smile. “Sorry about that. You must be Gigi!” 

Gigi smiled and reached out to shake her hand, but forgot that air kisses were the customary French greeting. Nice going, idiot, Gigi thought to herself as she finished the proper hello. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Mattel!”

“Oh hun, you can call me Trixie,” she smiled. “Welcome to Fatelle! I’m your modeling manager, so we’ll be seeing each other a lot. You come to me with any questions, concerns, issues, you need a tampon, a condom, a chocolate, a shot, I’m your gal,” she winked. Gigi laughed.

“In that case, can I have a-”

“You are not about to ask me for a condom.”

“Well…”

The two burst out, Trixie’s laugh coming out more like a bird screech than a human chuckle. 

“Ah! Almost forgot,” Trixie reached into her pocket and grabbed a sticky note, handing it to Gigi. “That’s my number. I’ll text you important info, like meeting and fitting dates and such. We’ve only got three weeks to prepare for this, so the schedule is packed.”

Gigi folded the paper and put it with her room card, already nervous for what was to come. “Agh, well, I’m excited to start!”

“Of course!” Trixie smiled, glancing at her phone as it buzzed. “Shit, well, I gotta go.”

“Hold on, sorry, how do I get to my room?”

“Right! I’m stupid for not telling you.” Trixie pointed to where she’d come from. “Over there is the apartment complex area. Your key card will say which room it is, and the elevators are dead ahead. This place has a restaurant open to the public like a hotel does, but it’s free for models and employees and serves us privately during the day. There’s also kitchens in the rooms if you wanna cook for yourself,” she explained. “Later tonight our team should be getting together for a meeting, I’ll text you the details, kay?” Trixie almost mumbled the last part as she frantically punched the keyboard of her phone, obviously annoyed with the person she was texting. “Enjoy your stay!”

Before Gigi could even say bye, Trixie was gone. She understood for the most part, but she couldn’t help but notice Trixie hadn’t said anything about the portion of the building across from the apartments. The curiosity ate her up, so she opted to ask Adore.

“What’s over there?” Gigi motioned to the glass doors that led to the mystery area.

“That’s where all the businessy stuff happens,” Adore rested her head in her hand. “You’ll probably go there to do your model stuff. The further in you go, the crazier the shit is.”

“Crazy shit? What kind of crazy shit?”

Adore bit her lip, knowing she’d said too much. “Enjoy your stay, Miss Goode.”

Gigi raised an eyebrow. Something smelled rotten at the Fatelle headquarters, and the young woman was dying to learn more. She followed instructions to get to her room, a spacious and immaculately decorated space. Flopping on the bed, Gigi closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to own such a large company. She’d never considered designing clothes, more than happy to stick to modeling. Speaking of which, she had a dinner to get ready for. She sat up, releasing her ginger waves from their ponytail with a shake of her head, exhaling a breath. After she unpacked, she was going to make herself look smoking hot. Crystal would not regret choosing her to be a model.

———

Gigi knocked on the glass doors leading to the private seating of the restaurant, trying to get Trixie’s attention. She’d worn her fanciest mini dress and most expensive Louboutins in hopes of impressing her team. The table was large, maybe ten or eleven girls crowding around it. And in the back, she spotted Crystal.

Or did Crystal spot her? Because they were making eye contact— holy shit they were making eye contact and Crystal was the prettiest girl ever what the fuck? Gigi gulped as someone else, a girl she didn’t recognize, let her in.

“Hey! Here to meet with The Methyd team?”

“Mhm,” Gigi nodded, air kissing the other woman. “Gigi Goode.”

“Oh, awesome! I’m Rock M Sakura, one of the makeup artists,” the shorter girl grinned at Gigi, her appearance reminding the model of a magical girl anime. “But you can just call me Rock.”

“Rock? What’s that short for?”

“Rock and Roll, baby,” she made a face and sat back down at the table, leaving Gigi to giggle and flick her eyes around to find an empty spot.

Of course the only one left was right next to Crystal.

And of course Crystal was smiling at her the entire time she walked to the seat.

“Hey, you’re Gigi right?” The designer asked, making the model blush at the fact that she knew her name. 

“Good morning, it’s an honor to meet you Ms. Methyd.”

“Ah jeez, just call me Crystal! We don’t use last names here,” Crystal motioned to the laughing girls around the dinner table. “It looks like everyone’s here actually, we can finally introduce ourselves!”

Gigi glanced at Trixie, who was sitting close by, her facial expression reading “is this girl always this sweet and peppy?” The manager caught her eye and shot her back a look that said “yes.” 

Crystal tapped a wine glass, garnering everyone’s attention. “Everyone, thank you all for coming to start this journey with me,” the designer started, a grin wide across her lips. “I know we’re all gonna make an amazing team, we just have to, uh, know each other’s names first?” Everyone chuckled lightly. Crystal looked towards Gigi with a sparkle in her eye. “Why don’t you start?”

Gigi took a breath, wanting to make sure her expression was stone-cold. “Nice to meet you all, I’m Gigi Goode, I just arrived from Los Angeles, I’ll be modeling.”

Crystal smiled, beckoning the rest to introduce themselves.

“My name is Jackie Cox, I came in from New York not too long ago, and I’m your backstage coordinator!”

“Bonsoir, I am Nicky Doll from Paris, obviously. I’ll be modeling as well.”

“Hey y’all, I’m Trixie Mattel, which you probably already knew, because I got you all here, because I’m your modeling manager.”

“The name is Jaida Essence Hall, and I’ve been modeling with Fatelle for some time now. I’m looking forward to working with Miss Methyd.”

“Hi, my name’s Rock M Sakura, just got here from San Francisco!  I’ll be your assistant makeup artist!”

“Raven. Lead makeup artist.” 

Now this chick seemed… off. She was extremely out of place amongst the rest of the girls in the group. She was just sitting there, glaring at the rest of the crew and almost… taking in information? Her face was sharp and beautiful, but her eyes pierced through Gigi’s soul as she, for some reason, stared her down. They moved on.

“I’m Plastique Tiara, I’ll also be a model. I can’t wait to start!”

“Hey there, I’m Brooke Lynn Hytes, if you’re Canadian, you know me. I’ll be helping get you guys outfits and hair stylists.”

“Ugh, great to meet y’all! I’m Jan Sport, I’m another model!”

There was only one girl left, thankfully, and only one more name to remember. “Hey, I’m Dahlia Sin. I’ll obviously be modeling.”

Crystal rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Yay! Now that we all know each other, hopefully the waiter’s coming sooooon!”

The table murmured in agreement, returning back to their previous conversations.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Gigi,” Jackie said from her left. Nicky peeked over her shoulder and nodded, flashing a gorgeous smile.

“The pleasure is all mine!” Gigi replied. “I can’t wait to try some authentic French cuisine,” she liked her lips.

“That’s right, you just got off the plane!” Crystal exclaimed. 

Gigi confirmed. “How long have you been staying here?”

“Oh gosh, not long, maybe a month or two. Most of this team has only been working at Fatelle for less than a year.”

“Except moi!” Nicky’s thick accent interjected, an eyebrow raised playfully. “And Raven. Jaida’s probably been here just over a year. But yeah, apart from us, even Trixie’s a baby.” 

Raven seemed to sense her name being spoken, but only tossed them a glance before returning to typing on her phone. Trixie was enthralled in some deep phone convo, the hard worker never seeming to catch a break.

“Oh, I just can’t wait to start! These designs have been in my head for years and they finally get to see the light of day on my amazing models!” Crystal gushed. The passion for her work seemed to be flowing out of each word she spoke, the radiant positivity infectious. 

“We’re so excited to see you succeed, Crys,” Jan quickly complimented before returning to an apparently intense debate with Brooke and Dahlia. 

Gigi noticed the waiter walk in through the glass door to take their drink orders, the model smiling at the thought of finally getting some real food in her. The only thing she’d been eating for the past 48 hours were shitty plane meals and junky snacks to try and make it through the thirteen hour joint flight. 

When the door was open, however, Gigi couldn’t help but notice three distant figures sauntering down the restaurant hall. They looked super important, super rich. They must have been supermodels, but she couldn’t tell from how far away she was.

Jackie caught her line of sight. “You know them, right?” She asked, an edge of malice in her tone.

“I couldn’t exactly see who they were, but I’m sure I’d know of them.”

“They’re some bad business,” Jackie grunted. 

“Really? Who are they?”

“Those are just some of the other models. Aquaria, Valentina, and Naomi Smalls,” Crystal explained, making Gigi’s eyes widen.

“No way! They’re insanely famous! Isn’t Aquaria supposed to take over the company or something?” Gigi raved.

“That’s up for debate,” Nicky rolled her eyes. “It sure looks like it, though.”

“If Mean Girls was real life, Aquaria is Regina, Naomi is Gretchen, and Valentina is Karen,” Jackie said. “And don’t you dare try to become Cady.”

Gigi laughed. “I won’t, I promise. I like you all too much.���

“Their people are another beast altogether,” Nicky spat. “One that we’ve been trying to conquer, but they’re just so full of themselves they can’t see past their own noses.”

“They’re working for Fatelle Official, so they’re doing something right,” Crystal tried to reason. 

“Well, I’m working for The Methyd, which is gonna be bigger than Fatelle. I can just feel it,” Gigi grinned. Crystal laughed airily, a tinge of red hitting her cheeks.

“Thanks, Gig!” 

Gigi couldn’t help but blush once again at the cute nickname Crystal has already begun to use. They all placed their drink orders, and Gigi managed to converse with Crystal without exploding. The older girl was dressed in a sparkly cocktail dress, with bright colored eyeshadow and thick eyeliner. Her hair was curly and mouse-brown, and it framed her face while flaring out in the back. Crystal was dastardly gorgeous, with twinkling eyes, a tiny nose, and lips ever-curved into a smile. Thank god it was normal to look at someone while they talked to you, because Gigi couldn’t stop looking at Crystal.

Gigi sipped the mixed drink that was brought to her at last, while Crystal looked at her with a playful smirk. 

“Have you ever thought about going blonde?”

“Ha! Maybe? Why?”

“One, you’d look good. Two, I’ve been wanting to go redhead but I don’t want to come for your brand!”

Gigi laughed heartily, wiping a bit of drink off her lip. “I’ll have to think about it!”

“If you do it, do it before the show!”

“And do it at a hairdresser,” a voice said at the other end of the table. It was quiet and barely audible over the chatter of the other women, but Gigi realized Raven had been listening to their conversation. She made eye contact with the older woman and grew hot, her gaze making Gigi anxious and want to look away. She nodded at Raven and turned back to Crystal, cringing.

“What’s her deal?”

“Raven’s?” Crystal bit her lip, not entirely comfortable with the makeup artist’s presence either. “The higher ups said she needed to work with us since everyone was new, and she is the best makeup artist in the city, really,” she shrugged. “I couldn’t say no.”

Gigi nodded in understanding. “She keeps looking at us.”

“I know,” Crystal chuckled. “But I mean, who wouldn’t want to look at you?”

The model turned bright red, rubbing the back of her neck. “Thank you, Crystal. It… means a lot coming from you.”

It was the designer’s turn to blush, and for a few moments the two sat in awkward silence before they were interrupted by the waiter taking their orders. Gigi hadn’t even looked at the menu— she was too busy talking, so she just ordered whatever Crystal got. 

Gigi knew, even from the short time she’d spent with her new friends, that she was in for a wild ride. And she knew something was up with Raven, Aquaria, Valentina, Naomi, and Adore, and she was going to get to the bottom of it before Fashion Week was over.

———

It was 11:58 PM when Raven opened the great wooden doors to the study, shutting them gently behind herself. She spotted Violet Chachki perched on the desk as usual, smoking a cigarette from a holder ring. Violet shot the makeup artist a look before clearing her throat.

“Darling, Raven’s here.”

In a movie-like scene, the huge velvet chair behind the oak desk spun around, revealing a disinterested Miss Fame. She too, was smoking a cigarette, but in a much less dramatic fashion than her assistant. 

“So?” She pressed.

“You definitely want that Gigi girl. And you want Methyd, too.”

“Right. And?”

“You’re in luck, because apparently they’re a package deal.”

Violet grinned, glancing to her lover who seemed to share the same sentiment. The designer and the model. The CEO and the burlesque dancer.

Fame looked back to Raven, stubbing out her cigarette with her own finger.

 “History repeats itself, it seems.”

[asettledsky]

So.... Beetlejuice is a demon.....

Why doesn't he look like one?

He used to. He's pretty sure of that.

Back when he was living in the Netherworld he looked like a demon. Scared the shit out of the recently deceased.

His mother said he had to create an image that looked like them, though. To help them cope. Like hers did.

He wasn't sure how much hers really did that. But whatever.

He created the human looking thing he would become.

It was fun to get close to the undead. He hadn't gotten a lot of interpersonal interaction before that.

They were still scared of him, but he liked that.

And then his mother had him banished. One too many times talking back to her, he supposed

But you can't just have a demon walking the earth.

So she slapped him into his human form. And doubled down on it by making him nearly impossible to see and put that curse on his name.

For the first few decades he'd change into his demon form all the time. But it was hard.

Once he realized that dead people could see him it didn't seem worth it to keep trying to change back.

Humans were generally pretty terrified of his original form, and he was lonely enough that he didn't want to scare them off upon first meeting.

So, a millenia or two went by, and he eventually stopped even thinking about it.

And then...

"So, you're a demon, right?" Lydia asks some time long after that incident with the Maitlands.

"Why do you look like some homeless guy instead of... I dunno, some monstrous thing?"

Beetlejuice is a little reluctant to answer, but he tells her all about how his mother tricked him into making the image and then trapped him in it.

Lydia tells him how much she thinks that sucks on his behalf.

"What did you look like before?"

Embarrassed, he confesses that several thousand years is a very long time, and... well... he doesn't remember. He pretty certain there were wings though. He remembers swooping down at people.

That would have been the end of it, except something happens. Beetlejuice gets sick or something. Or goes into heat. Shhhh.

And his form gets effected in some way. During the sickness, while he's completely delirious, he reverts back to his demonic form.

Lydia was there taking care of him. Because who else? So she gets to see the monster he really used to be in his full glory.

Beetlejuice comes out the other side of this ordeal in one piece, but doesn't remember a lot. He gets the story out of Lydia though.

"Wait... You mean... you saw what I looked like?" He asked once he realized.

"Yep." Lydia offers absolutely no more information.

"Well?????!" Beetlejuice asks. "What'd I look like?"

Lydia looks upwards, her finger on her chin as if she's deliberating on how to describe it.

"Magnificent." Lydia says, after some thought.

Beetlejuice looks at her, dumbstruck, and turns bright pink from head to toe.

"Th-that's not what I meant!" Beetlejuice complains. The way he's covering his face and blushing makes it lose its effect.

Lydia just smiles and walks away.

Maybe she'll tell him some other time.

[fontasticcrablettes]

How I Use Scrivener

Wrote this up for a friend, figured I’d post here in case it helps anyone else!

If you haven’t heard of it, Scrivener is a writing program that’s great for organizing long works.  It’s what I use to write anything that has more than one chapter.  It has a tonne of features, and honestly I don’t even use half of them.  This is how I use it to write though. 

Ok, so this is basically what the interface looks like:

You write in the middle.  Documents and files are stored in the left, and the window on the right is for toggling things within the scene, jotting down notes, and some other cool things.  Lots of things.  Let’s break this shit down:

First: how to just write shit without worrying about all the neat features.  When you first start Scrivener, go to New Project and get a box like this:

This is showing you all the templates you can choose from.  I have a personal template that’s set up for how I use it.  I’ve never used the non-fiction or scriptwriting ones (Like I said, I haven’t used half the features this baby has).  It doesn’t really matter which one you use because you can change it all later anyway.  If you aren’t sure, just go for blank.

Select blank, type your project name and where to save it, and then click create. (Tip: The project will create an entire folder with sub-documents.  I like to make a folder for each project, and then put the scrivener folder in that folder, because you can’t import images that are already in the scrivener folder.)  You’ll get this screen:

You can just start writing here.  I’ll show you how I organize it though.  

I like to make one folder for each chapter.  Then, each scene gets its own page.  You can create a new folder by click on the arrow next to the big green plus sign.

If you just click on the plus sign, it will create a new document.  You can also change folders to documents and vice versa by right-clicking on them later.  Create a document for each scene - basically, anywhere you’d put a page break, create a new document.  They line up in order in all your folders like this:

I name the folders with the chapter title.  You can either name you individual scenes (i.e., “Yuri goes to the store”) or let it auto-generate a title from the first sentence of the scene.  This is what I usually do.  Or, if you write out of order, you could create place-holder scenes and title them with what generally will happen there once you write it.

The cool thing about this is that you can move these scenes around easily. If, for example, you decide to end a chapter earlier and want to move the last scene to the start of the next one, just click and drag it into position.  

Click and drag and hover over another scene (rather than between them) to nest your document within another one.  This lets you use documents as folders of their own.  I usually use this for notes rather than the manuscript itself (like, one page outlining a city, and then sub-documents for neighbourhoods within it).  

At any time while writing, your entire list of scenes and chapters is available at the side.  Need to double-check what someone said five chapters ago?  Easily find the exact scene you need to re-read by finding it in the list rather than scrolling up through thousands of words in one big document.  

I like to colour-code my scenes my point of view.  Yuri is black, Flynn is blue, Estelle is pink, etc.  You can do this over on the right window, in this box:

When you open a blank project, the top box there won’t say Point of View.  It just says Label and will have different coloured boxes.  Click the arrow and then hit “Edit...” to get to this box

Change the title of the label and create custom colour labels here.  You don’t have to use this for Point of View; it’s just what works best for me.

Then, to get the colour to show up in the binder (the right bar where all your folders are listed, hit F6.  That will toggle the little doc icon being coloured. F5 will toggle the colour appearing over the entire title, like this:

The Status box is for giving docs stamps - things like “DONE” or “TO DO”.  It’s mostly useful in the corkboard view.  

The Document Notes box is where you can write things down that pertain to just that scene.  I use it to jot down a list of information that needs to be delivered in a conversation, for example, or I stick sentences I’m moving around over there until I find a better place for them.  Use the arrows at the far right side to switch to Project Notes, which is like that but for the entire project and will be the same in every document.  

The index card at the top is where you can write a summary of the scene if you need a reminder, or if you haven’t written it yet.  

The camera icon takes you to the snapshots.  This is for if you’re going to make some edits but you aren’t 100% confident in them.  Take a snapshot before you start and it will save the document as it is.  At any time, you can go back and check your previous version of the document and use Roll Back to bring it back again.  There’s a little folded corner icon on any document that has snapshots. 

I never use the other tabs in the inspector here.  I think they’re mostly for non-fiction writing (References, footnotes, meta data, etc).  And hit the I at the top to toggle the inspector open or closed. 

“Include in Compile” and related check boxes are for when you’re compiling everything into one document at the end.  Don’t worry about this for fanfiction; I find it easier to just copy and paste from scrivener.  

Moving on from writing, you can also keep all your research and reference notes within Scrivener so that they are easy to refer to while-writing.  I put mine in the Research folder.

You can create documents to write things up just as you would in the Draft folder, or import image files, pdfs, even entire web pages.  

Something I like to do is create a calendar.  It makes it easier to keep track of the passage of time in long fics.  Create a regular document, then insert a table with 7 columns and 4/5 rows.  It can be as elaborate as you want.  Right click on the document within the binder and go to “Change icon...” to make it stand out.  

I usually don’t use the Characters or World folders for fanfic, but for original stories that’s where I put all my worldbuilding notes, character profiles, histories, etc.  

These three buttons at the top control the mode you’re in.  The place document is just writing mode.  That’s the default.  Then there’s Corkboard mode, which is how I often do outlining.  Create a new folder outside of the Manuscrupt, label it “Outline” (and change the icon if you want), and then create a document for each point on your outline.  If you’re in Corkboard view, creating a new document will create a new index card (which turns into a document if you go back to Editor view).   

This is where those Status labels I mentioned earlier come in.  I mark a thing Done on the outline to check it off.  The cool thing about it is that all documents are automatically index cards.  Here’s my draft showing all the folders as individual index cards:

If I move cards around on the corkboard, they automatically move around in the binder as well.  So I could spread out my entire story, scene by scene, on index cards and stamp them with completeness, label the PoV character, and summaries of the contents, and then shuffle them around right here.

The last mode is Outline mode.  I’m more of a visual person so I don’t use this as much.  I just use it to show me how many words a chapter has because it’s the quickest way to get that info. 

You can toggle what columns you want visible on this screen.  Total Word Count isn’t there by default; you have to tell it to show that. 

Other cool things:

The built-in Name Generator found under Tools

Go to Tools > Options to change the fonts, colours, sizes, appearances etc.

Press F11 (this button)

To enter fullscreen mode.  You can change the appearance of this under Options but it lets you write in a customized fullscreen view to help concentration.

Press ctrl+shift+’ to enter split screen view.  This lets you write in one window and have reference material (or another scene) open in another. ctrl+’ takes you back to one screen.  

The last important thing is Typewriter scrolling.  This makes it so that when you hit enter, the lines shift up and keep your writing centred on the page.  You never hit the bottom of the screen, you never have to scroll up to re-centre yourself.  It’s great.  I only turn it off if I’m editing because then if you fix a type near the bottom of the page it snaps that to the middle and can be annoying.  I always forget how to turn this on but here it is:

Honestly this is just an overview of the most important features to me.  This program is huge.  I’ve been using it for almost 10 years and I’m still discovering new things about it (maybe because I am a person who never reads manuals and just figures shit out as it comes up but shhhh).  I love it a lot and feel free to ask me how to do a thing because I can’t write without it now.  

[wheresmaldo865]

ShinsoXReader Valentine Day Special Featuring Song Dead Girl walking from the Heathers

 Happy Valentines day! I got this idea in my head and decided to type this up. I originally wanted to do it for Bokugo but wanted to extend my characters palette... since my inbox is always empty :(

But any way, full steam ahead! I didn’t really get the chance to do detailed editing so please forgive me if theres any errors. Also the song is a little out of order so that some things make more sense.

Also, someone please tell me how to properly spell this kids name. I seen it boths ways with and without a u 😭

There a little doodle of Shinsou at the end 😉

Warning: Vanilla smut (Nothing detailed)

Word Count: 1752

‘The Demon queen of high school has decreed it, she says Monday, 8am I will be deleted. They’ll hunt me down in study hall. Stuff and mount me on the wall. Thirty hours to live, how shall I spend them?’

            Standing there in a ghostly empty party room was the worst nightmare anyone could have imagined. A ruptured friendship. Three ugly sisters with more power then they deserved. Yet, she forgot.

           She had put herself into this whole mess. She had wanted to be part of the ugly sister comment. The bitter sweet sensation had brought her satisfaction and acceptance between her other peers.

Now it was… only bitter.

Because (Y/n) had even had the audacity to stand against them. They made it a public statement to make her live a living hell. As if the room hadn’t already been hot before.

Her palms were sweaty from the wild night she had. Her school uniform stuck to her cold skin a bit to tightly. (Y/n) collar seemed to squeeze tighter, and tighter as the night went on.

I don’t have to stay and die like cattle. I could change my name and ride up to Seattle. But I don’t own a motorbike.

           (Y/n) contemplated the endless options she could muster. Running away to the next town… or a town across the seas. Her parents didn’t need to know. No one needed to know anything. However, the more she thought upon one idea. The more ridiculous it ended up sounding. Even in her own head.

           So, she continued on her way home. The summer night was overwhelmingly stuffy. Large beads of sweat formed on her forehead and rolled down her red cheeks. Right about now she wished for nothing more than a cold shower to run down her spine.  

                       Y/n) spotted a window spilling light onto the side walk. Her eyes followed the beam of light to a room seated on a two-story building. She could a shadow of a figure walk by. Long spoffy hair poking out from all angles of his head. (Y/n) chuckled to herself.

           She knew who the lavender purple hair belonged to.

There was suddenly an interrupting thought that came into her mind. Something devious, something… naughty. The liquor in her blood burned and set her body a flame. Desire hit her with a bus, especially in the lower area. The more she played with the idea. The wetter she became.

           Wait, here an option that I like. Spend these thirty hours getting freaky!

Yeah!

           I need it hard. I’m a dead girl walking!

 (Y/n) marched her pretty little face right up to the door of Shinsou’s house. The blood in her veins mixed with the alcohol pumped excitedly. She was feeling too good to turn back. There was no hesitation in her hands as she lifted it to ring the doorbell twice.

           She waited patiently for the door to open.

I’m in your yeard. I’m a dead girling walking. Before they punch my clock. I’m snapping off your window lock. Got no time to knock. I’m a dead girl walking…

           The door finally opened. She was greated by the man himself, Hitoshi Shinsou. Someone she saw frequently in her life and had… affections toward. One could say the feelings were returned. There was only one way to find out now.

           “(Y/n)? What’re you doing in my house?”

She smiled innocently. She took her pointer finger and pressed it gently onto Shinsou lips. She found it amusing the way his eyes went wide. A blush slowly creeping its way onto his face.

           “Shhhh.”

Once Shinsou had finally regained his courage, he took her by the hand and led her inside. To him it was evident she wasn’t all put together, as she usually was. Before she could say anything more, he sat her up in his room. Giving her some water and medicine to replace the hangover pain she may have in the morning.

           “Better?” He asked with a soft smile.

She nodded. Though the courage in her heart did not disappeared with the buzz. (Y/n) scooted her body closer to his. Their shoulders, legs, and arms bumping in several places. The blushed rushed back to his, but he didn’t move away from her.  Her perfume flooded his senses. Rooting him in his place.

           Sorry, but I really had to wake you. See, I decided I must ride you ‘til I break you.

The blush on Shinsou’s cheeks traveled evenly to the rest of his face. He was completely blown away by the words that had just come out of his dear friends’ mouth.

           Of course, he adored his friend. He would risk life and limb for the women before him. On the other hand, this hadn’t been the way he had planned to confess to such a lovely girl.

           She was rubbing up against him in a way he almost couldn’t say no. Shinsou gently grabbed her by the shoulders and forced himself to pause for a moment. He had to be sincere now. For her sake.

           “Wait, wait! What has gotten into you?”

‘Cause Heather says I gots to go. You’re my last meal on death row. Shut your mouth and lose them tighty whiteys”

           (Y/n) turned the table on him. She wiggled her way around him. Pinning him underneath her on his bed. There was her scent again, intoxicating his mind. The way she moved to sit upon his waist did the unimaginable to him. He was beginning to feel tight in the jeans he wore.

           He shot up again. As much as Shinsou wanted this. The desire for her consent grew bigger than anything poking in his pants. He would hate himself for several eternities if she regretted this in the end.

           “Wait.” The word fell firmly to (Y/n) ears. Her giggles became put aside. She starred wide eyes and locked eyes with Shinsou Listening attentively to what he had to say to her.

           Shinsou’s eyes closed for a moment. He simply let himself be present in her presence. Allowing him to short his desires and feelings.

           “I…” He started but couldn’t finished until another second passed. “I have cherished you… for what seems like forever now. Watching you become such a powerful hero and wonderful friend. I would do anything to protect you from any harm. Even if that means it’s from myself. So, I have to know. You have to be certain.”

           Shinsou toned shifted from his love filled admiration to an urgent one. What he said next was a serious matter to him.

           “You have to be certain this is what you want. With me. A life and a future with someone like me. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

           Shinsou’s room became painfully silent for a few moments. (Y/n) eyes traveled to his chest. Perhaps trying to dissect his rapidly beat heart for sincerity. When she came back to meet his gaze… Shinsou had a feeling she had her answer.

           A soft smile graced her lips. Her face was so close to his he could taste the drink she had on his tongue.

           And you know, you know, you know. Its cause you’re beautiful. You say you’re numb inside, but I can’t agree. So the worlds unfair. Keep it locked out there. In Here it’s beautiful. Let’s make this beautiful!”

            Her lips were on his in an instant. Her hands slide across his chest and up to his neck. Losing themselves in his wild hair. It took him a moment to register what was finally happening. Once he knew, boy. Did he respond. His arms found their way around (Y/n) waist and brought her closer to him. It didn’t take long before the grinding became heated. Kisses became hastily sloppy. Hands were slipping into places never touched by anyone else.

           One by one, clothes were beginning to come off.

 Tonight, I’m yours. I’m your dead girl walking! Get on all fours! Kiss this dead girl walking. Let’s, go you know the drill. I’m hot and pissed and on the pill. Bow down to the will- Of a dead girl walking!

            Shinsou had (Y/n) pinned down to his bed. His pillowed framing her face perfect, though her hair was already becoming a mess. The face she was giving him still droves his desire. He wanted you immediately. It was only a matter of time before Shinsou had his thumb hooked on the pants and panties (Y/n) had chosen to wear. Sliding them off her smooth (S/c) legs. The new cool air rubbing against her sex produced a whimper from her throat. Shinsou chuckled lighty at the reaction.

           He then removed his own shirt. Moving to then remove hers. He plucked the buttons one by one. The bra she wore was gone in a second. Revealing her total naked body to him. A sculpture he could marvel in for hours if he was given the time.

           Full steam ahead. Take this dead girl walking! Lets break the bed. Rock this dead girl walking. No sleep tonight for you. Better chug that Mountain Dew! Get your ass in gear. Make this whole town disappear.

                      (Y/n) rose up from her place. Starling Shinsou slightly. He let out a small yelp when he found himself on his back again. His face turned red again when (Y/n) undid the buckle of his pants and ran them down impatiently. As if he would run away when the clock struck 12.

           Her mouth found his member way too quickly for Shinsou to take. A loud groan caught him off guard as her wet lips wrapped around him. Her tongue swirling in all the right spots. Another growl ripped through his teeth when the full length of him hit the back of her throat. Combined with rhythmic pumping of her mouth and hand was almost too much for him. Shinsou had to protest for a stop before he would be completely spent.

           Sitting up and looking into (Y/n). He couldn’t be filled with anymore lust before her burst. It only took another minute for (Y/n) to lay on her back. Shinsou nestling himself between her legs. Teasing her wet entrance.

           A single push at the hip was all it took for him to be completely inside her.

  The rest of the night Shinsou and (Y/n) spent their new-found time tangled in each other. Pleasure and it each touch filled with loving passion. They shared every moment they could. Hot breathes, moans and kisses coming from their lips.

[eddieeatsass]

ok but like a hanzier propsal fic please? i just need one in my life and im really going down cause i can't find any. ( also smut in it if you're feeling generous hehe )

I’m sorry it took longer than expected to get this to you, life got in the way! But I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the prompt.

Read On AO3

Richie and Mike were an anomaly. A peculiar match that shocked everyone as much as it shocked them themselves. They moved as a unit, despite being so vastly different in all other capacities. Their love is what stitched them together, made them immovable, a constant in everyone’s lives.

They’d gotten together at an early age, the pull between them impossible to ignore. While the rest of the Losers were exploring their hearts, Mike and Richie spent their nights curled up together in the fields at Mike’s farm, watching the stars and making wishes on the ones that shot by.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when they got engaged. Everyone has seen it coming from a mile away. At 25, the pair had been together for nearly 9 years, a decade approaching at light speed to wrap up their adoration for each other in a pretty little bow.

They’d been talking about marriage since they were teenagers, young and naive to the realities of the world outside of high school. They’d thought they could get hitched as soon as they were out of school, settle down in a big house with three dogs, and call it a day. Unfortunately, life had other plans. Finances and secondary education snuck up on them quickly, pulling the wool off their eyes and exposing sensitive nerves to adult life. They adapted, but not without having to make some adjustments to their original plan. A big house became a small off-campus apartment, which they had to share with Stan and Bill just to make rent. Three dogs became one goldfish, which Richie adamantly insisted they name “Spot”. And getting married got put on the back burner, a dream for another time. A time when they weren’t buried in student loans, homework, and minimum wage jobs.

While it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that they got engaged, how they got engaged was a story in itself.

Mike had always been the level-headed part of the twosome, balancing out Richie’s grand imagination and impulsive nature. So, when he decided he wanted to propose, he had to start thinking like his boyfriend. A proposal to Richie couldn’t simply be “level-headed”, it had to match how wild and loud and full of life he was. Mike had mulled over ideas for weeks until he finally admitted he needed to recruit some help, so he went to the only other person who knew Richie as well as he did: Beverly Marsh.

Beverly was, of course, ecstatic to hear that Mike planned on proposing. But she also wasn’t shy to tell him how much his ideas sucked. A walk along the beach, a boat ride, a nature walk; they were all sweet gestures, but they weren’t as memorable as Mike wanted them to be.

Finally, after another week of discreetly texting one another, Beverly and Mike came up with a plan, and a month later he was putting it into action.

It was the 10th of July, the day that Richie had officially asked Mike to be his boyfriend all those years ago. Mike planned a weekend trip for them to visit Derry, catch up with their parents and see how much the town had changed since they’d left. Neither of them had enjoyed living there when they’d been kids but going back had a nostalgic draw that made it seem sentimental. It hadn’t been all bad; long days freckling under the sun at the Quarry, making Eddie squirm as they trudged through the mucky waters of the Barrens, muffled giggles into old books as they tried to hide from Ms. Sally’s shushing at the town’s library. And of course, it’s where they met each other. Where they fell in love.

They’d spent the earlier part of the day at the Tozier residence, visiting with Maggie and Went over brunch. Now, they were at the tail-end of dinner with the Hanlons. Will and Jessica were clearing the table when Jessica spoke up.

“Do you two have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“We were just going to grab a room at the motel down the road-” Richie began to say, before Jessica interrupted him with her tutting.

“Nonsense! Why spend money when you can stay here?”

Mike and Richie exchanged a bashful look, knowing that staying in Mike’s childhood room together with his parents right next door might not be… ideal.

Will chuckled, as if reading their minds. “We’re going out tonight, won’t be back ‘till tomorrow afternoon. We’re going swing dancing in Old Town! We’ll be staying with your aunt Mary overnight.”

Mike’s tense shoulders relaxed at the news that they’d have the house all to themselves for the night. It would make his plan go that much smoother.

Jessica brought out dessert, which Richie devoured in record time, and then they were heading out, leaving Richie and Mike to their own devices.

As Richie set off to shower, Mike checked his watch for the umpteenth time that evening, watching the time closely to make sure he followed his schedule down to the minute. Richie’s shower made them a smidge late, but Mike schooled his features to hide his worry so Richie wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Heya hot stuff.” Mike greeted Richie as he strolled out of the bathroom with steam billowing behind him. He had one towel loosely thrown around his hips and was ruffling up his hair with another. Mike got up from his perch on his bed and strolled towards Richie, meeting him in the middle of the room. He grabbed Richie by the hips and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“Mmm, hi.” Richie whispered against Mike’s lips, a smile curling under the attention.

With a second kiss to Richie’s forehead, Mike pulled himself away.

“So, I was thinking maybe we could walk out to the field and do some stargazing, you know, like we used to.” The suggestion was casual, but Mike’s heart was beating fast. His plan depended on Richie saying yes.

“Yeah sure babe.” Richie responded as he pulled a t-shirt over his wet mop of hair and reached for his boxers. “Just let me get a little more appropriately dressed.” He winked before hopping ungracefully as he pulled on his boxers, tripping slightly but recovering with a charming smile.

Mike’s pulse relaxed immediately, his anxiety being replaced with fondness for this goofy, maladjusted boy he was soon going to propose to.

It took a few more minutes before they were off, hands clasped together as they wandered out into the seemingly never-ending field of the Hanlon’s farm. The night was beautiful, the sky completely devoid of clouds and shining bright with the dim light of the stars.

They walked for a few minutes until the house behind them became part of a separate world, and that’s when Richie saw it.

“Michael!” Richie gasped, as he spotted what was in the distance. They were walking towards a patch of grass covered with a large blanket, surrounded by four lit tiki torches.

Mike couldn’t hold back the grin that split across his face, seeing Richie’s excitement got his own going.

Richie let go of Mike’s hand to sprint the rest of the way to the set-up. When he got there, he noticed there was an abundance of pillows as well as two picnic baskets set aside. Laying down was like resting on a bed of clouds, and he instantly felt all the stress of life evaporating away under the stars.

Mike finally caught up and sat down beside Richie. He looked down at him and couldn’t help but reach a hand out and pet the hair back from Richie’s forehead, letting his fingers linger on his cheek.

“Happy 9 years, my love.” He whispered.

Richie’s eyes flicked their attention to Mike, so much adoration and passion present in those blue pearls.

“Happy 9 years, Mikey.” Richie responded, lifting his hand up to Mikes and lacing their fingers together. He swiftly broke the moment by tugging on Mike’s arm and pulling him down on top of him.

Richie laughed as Mike tried not to crush Richie beneath him as he toppled over. He was still giggling as he brought their lips together, his hands already wandering down the front of Mike’s chest.

Mike had to fight to get his mind and body to comply to the plan he had set up. As much as he wanted to get lost in Richie’s arms, he couldn’t. Not yet, at least.

So, ignoring Richie’s complaintive whine, Mike rolled off him and towards the baskets he had set aside.

“I don’t want our food to get cold.” Mike used as an excuse. From the basket he procured a tray of chocolate covered strawberries, as well as two champagne flutes along with non-alcoholic champagne. Neither of them really drank, and besides, he wanted to be as lucid as possible for what was about to happen.

He passed the plate off to Richie who grabbed it eagerly, tearing the saran wrap off unceremoniously and beginning his search for the perfect strawberry. Mike poured them both some champagne, taking the time to check his watch again. Eight minutes until the big moment. He took a deep breath before putting the champagne aside and turning back to Richie.

“I found the best one.” Richie exclaimed happily, holding up the biggest strawberry in the pile. It was coated nearly perfectly in chocolate, save for the green stem Richie was holding it by.

“C’mere.” Richie beckoned, setting the tray beside him and scooting closer to Mike.

Mike complied, snuggling close to Richie and handing him one of the flutes.

Richie brought the strawberry up to Mike’s lips, beginning to trace them slowly with the fruit. Richie’s mouth was set tight, but Mike could tell he was trying to hold back laughter.

“Richie this doesn’t-”

“Shhhh.” Richie used the strawberry to quiet him, pressing it more firmly against his lips.

“Let me seduce you.” Richie said in a low attempt at a sultry voice.

Now Mike was also trying not to laugh, his cheeks pulled up into rosy apples as Richie continued his ministrations. Chocolate was melting against Mike’s mouth, giving him the appearance of wearing lipstick. That’s when Richie finally cracked, pulled his hand back and laughing audibly at the mess on Mike’s face.

Mike laughed along, resisting the urge to wipe his mouth right away. Instead, as he’d expected, Richie leaned in after he’d composed himself, and licked the chocolate clean. He finished by pecking Mike innocently before pulling back and finally properly feeding the strawberry to his poor boyfriend.

They continued like that for the next few minutes, laughing and talking, eating the strawberries faster than they probably should and washing down the sweetness with glorified carbonated juice.

Mike got so caught up in the moment that he almost forgot what he was there for, until the loud boom reminded him.

“Fireworks, really? The 4th of July was six days ago!” Richie complained with no real fever. Richie loved fireworks, loved the bright colors and loud noises, loved getting lost in whatever story his brain decided they were telling.

“Let’s watch.” Mike encouraged, taking Richie’s nearly empty flute from him and setting both of theirs back into the picnic basket.

When Mike turned back around, Richie was already laying on his back, his hands folded eagerly on his stomach as his eyes searched the sky for the next show.

Mike lowered himself down beside him, taking a second to memorize the look on Richie’s face at that exact moment.

Another firework exploded above them, accompanied by a quicker burst of a few more. Mike’s gaze stayed on Richie’s face, his hand reaching into his pocket to finger the little ring box he’d been carrying around all day.

Three more fireworks. Richie’s eyes were lit up both with the reflection of the lights, and with that wonder that Mike fell in love with.

Another one.

Then a succession of smaller ones.

And then...

Richie’s eyes were meeting Mike’s, wide and questioning.

Richie’s mouth gaped, words seeming to fail him for the first time in his life.

Above them, the fireworks were quickly disappearing, the fiery words “Richie, Will You Marry Me?” fading into the night’s sky.

“So?” Mike took a deep breath, rolling over on to his side to fully face Richie. His hand pulled the small box out from its confines and he held it up to Richie, popping it open to reveal a delicate gold band.

“What do you say?” Mike’s voice wavered as he waited for a sigh.

“What the fuck.” Richie blurted out, before he started sobbing.

Mike faltered quickly, letting the ring box drop as he prioritized pulling Richie close to his chest.

“Baby, baby I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I-”

A vibration against his chest cut him off. He had to pull away slightly so he could decipher Richie’s words.

“You ruined my plan.” Richie blubbered out again, his tears now juxtaposed by a huge smile that he was trying to disguise as a pout. Mike felt his composure relax. Richie continued without being prompted. “I was going t-to propose next w-weekend.” Richie explained between splutters.

It was Mike’s turn to be speechless now.

“But of course, Mike Hanlon, always the romantic, has to do it on our fucking anniversary.” Richie’s tears were slowing down now, his usual demeanor coming back. “Now I’ll have to see if I can get my deposit back on the horse.”

“Horse…?”

“And I’ll have to call the bakery and cancel the cake order, hopefully the band will be able to find another gig on such short notice, Eddie and Bill are definitely going to have to return their costumes, and-”

“Baby, honey, slow down.” Mike’s gentle hands were cupping Richie’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Richie stopped immediately, closing his eyes and forcing himself to take a deep breath. When his eyes re-opened, they were teary again. “Can I at least say it?”

Mike’s heart felt like it would burst, his love for Richie so palpable in that moment.

“Of course.”

Richie cleared his throat and wiped his eyes as he stood up. He dramatically shook his limbs out one by one, cracking his neck side to side, and then turned back around to face Mike.

“Michael Hanlon. Michael the bicycle. Love of my life. Hopefully one day, bearer of my children. My best friend. My compadre. My-”

“Richie.” Mike cut him off with a laugh.

“Right, right. Sorry. Mike…” Richie got down on one knee, taking Mike’s hand between his own. “Will you marry me?”

Mike’s grin could have rivalled the sun. “Yes. Yesyesyes yes.” Mike rushed out.

“AND THERE WE HAVE IT FOLKS,” Richie let go of Mike’s hand and swiveled on his knees as if to address an invisible audience. He lifted both his hands in triumph. “DERRY’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELORS ARE OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET FOR GOOD.”

Mike rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Richie’s torso and pulling him backwards. Richie came crashing down with an eruption of laughter, mixing along with Mike’s own. Mike didn’t waste any time beginning to pepper kisses down Richie’s neck, using his position to pull Richie flush against his chest.

Things heated up quickly. Kisses became more passionate, clothes were shed, and soon the two were left naked under the stars, the kindness of July keeping them warm and the flickering from the tiki torches lighting their hands’ paths. It wasn’t long before Richie was aching for more.

“Mikey…” Richie canted his hips upwards, ushering Mike’s hand, which was gripped around his cock, to move faster.

“Hold on baby, I’ve got you.” Mike twisted his body around uncomfortably to reach for the second picnic basket he’d packed. He opened it up with his free hand, his busy one never ceasing its job, and grabbed for the bottle of lube he’d packed.

The familiar sound of the cap popping open made Richie’s cock twitch.

“Oh my god, you really think of everything, don’t you.” Richie said excitedly.

“One of us has to.” Mike winked.

Richie spread his legs eagerly before Mike even had the chance to pour lube on to his fingers. The anticipation on Richie’s face egged him to move faster, his own eagerness becoming evident.

As Mike poured out a generous amount of the slick liquid into his hand, Richie grabbed one of the extra pillows and tucked it under his lower back, propping himself up on display. Mike nearly salivated at the view, never quite having gotten used to seeing Richie spread out, no matter how many times they did this.

Mike brought his lubricated hand up to Richie’s hole, circling a finger around the puckered muscle, teasing Richie before slipping his digit inside smoothly.

They’d fooled around only a few hours ago, stopping on the side of the road on their drive to Mike’s farm and squeezing into the back seat. Mike had fucked Richie until he’d cried, fingers desperately grabbing at the seats around him for some kind of leverage to ground himself. Richie came all over his shirt, causing them to have to dig their suitcases out of the trunk and wrestle out a clean one for him to change into.

Richie was still deliciously stretched from their afternoon activities, letting Mike slip in a second finger after only a few moments.

“You’re so beautiful like this, laid out bare for me…” Mike praised Richie who was breathing heavily beneath him.

Richie didn’t answer, just pushed his hips towards Mike to get his fingers as deep as possible. Mike found Richie’s prostate and stroked it lightly, eliciting a gorgeous moan.

“You can be as loud as you want.” Mike said, rubbing Richie’s prostate a little harder. “No one will hear you out here.”

It came out as a promise, assurance that he’d get Richie to the point where he couldn’t stay silent even if he tried. It sent goosebumps down Richie’s body.

A third finger was added, the stretch familiar and gentle. Richie felt warm, both from Mike’s body heat and desire kindling inside. They continued like that for a few more minutes, Mike pumping his hand steadily, teasing Richie’s prostate every time he thrust upwards. It was tantalizing.

“Please, Mikey…” Richie pleaded when it finally got to be too much. Mike pulled his hand away, watching Richie’s hole flutter around nothing. It was so pretty he took a moment to lean down and kiss it. Richie gasped at the unexpected contact, grinding his hips down against Mike’s face. Mike indulged him, kissing it with dirty flicks of his tongue. When he pulled away his face shone with lube.

“I could spend all night eating you out,” Mike stated, grabbing the lube and squirting a little extra into his hand. “but right now, I’d rather do this.” He rubbed the excess lube across his cock, coating it generously before lining himself up with Richie’s hole. He wasted no time before pushing in, shivering as the tightness enveloped him.

“Fuuuuuck-” Richie groaned wantonly.

Mike bottomed out, shifting his gaze from where they were connected and following the planes of Richie’s torso until their eyes met. Richie had his lower lip tucked between his teeth, as if trying to hold himself back, but upon meeting Mike’s gaze he let it drop.

“I can’t wait to be your husband.” Richie said sincerely.

“Me neither.” Mike smile tenderly. “But I am glad I get to show you off as my fiancé for a while.”

They both laughed, the movement jostling Mike inside Richie and reminding them of their current situation.

Mike pulled out slowly before easing himself back in at the same pace. He kept that rhythm as he continued.

“Everyone’s going to be jealous I get to marry the most affectionate, effervescent, passionate man in the whole world.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” Richie panted out between slow thrusts. “Getting to marry the most open-minded, kind-hearted, and hottest guy in town.”

Mike let out a burst of laughter, letting his head drop to Richie’s chest as a blush rose to his cheeks.

“I’m farthest from the hottest. That would be-”

“You’re right, it’s definitely Bill.” Richie interrupted with a breathless giggle.

Mike drew his head back and gasped dramatically.

“I was going to say you but…” Mike pretended to contemplate it. “Yeah, Denbrough could get it.”

They shared a smile. Mike loved Richie's ability to make any moment playful, even moments when Mike was buried to the hilt within him. This charismatic man, with the imagination of a child and the whimsy to match.

Mike picked up his pace, spurred on by his adoration, set on making Richie feel as good as he possibly could. The mewls he got in response were encouraging, so he continued swiveling his hips and propelling himself deeper with every thrust.

“That feel good, baby?” Mike purred into Richie’s ear, nipping his earlobe before descending to his neck.

A litany of curses was all Richie could manage in response, feeling himself climbing towards his peak.

Soon, curses were being split up by warning attempts. “Mike- fuckfuckfuck- I’m almost- holy shit yes don’t stop- I’m going to- jesus fucking christ-”

Mike knew that he was hitting the perfect spot. He didn’t dare move, no matter how much his arms were quivering, or his legs threatened to give out. He pumped forward once, twice, three times, and then the empty field was being filled with a throaty scream.

Richie’s fingernails left crescent moons where they dug into Mike’s arms, holding on for his dear life as he felt the waves of pleasure nearly drown him.

The feeling of Richie clenching around his cock did him in. As Mike joined Richie in his climax, he forced himself to keep his eyes open, never wanting to miss a moment of watching Richie come undone. He was so beautiful; pale skin, tinted pink from exertion and nearly transparent under the moonlight, thickly rimmed glasses sitting askew on his face, cum spread across his chest and pooling into his bellybutton. He looked so fragile, so small underneath Mike’s hold. Vulnerable in a way only Mike would ever see him.

Eventually they both regained their composure along with their breath. Mike pulled out of Richie slowly, watching as his own fluid follow him out of the tight confine, leaking onto Richie’s thighs and the pillow below him. Mike wanted to clean it up, dive in with his mouth and get Richie to cum all over again, but he knew there would be time to do that later.

They did, after-all, have forever ahead of them.

[get-well-soonish-blog]

Where it all Began

OK, so I’ve created an Instagram account dedicated to showing the world what it’s like to be me. Might as well link a blog to it, amirite?

Why does that matter?

Now what?

What are you even going to be talking about, Katie?

Some questions that might be buzzing around your head, I know. 

We all kind of walk through this world doing what we do every day. And maybe some of us find that significant, but maybe some of us don’t. If you see yourself as “just a student”, or “just a person in an entry-level, coordinator position, or “just trying to get by”, I promise you that means something. 

About four months ago I made a move that changed my life so profoundly it has quite literally shaken me down to my core and showed me who I am, what I’m made of. But let’s rewind to just before that all happened.

I’m sitting on the couch of a family I nanny for in what felt like the middle-of-nowhere-Indiana. It’s just about 1:00 pm, the baby is asleep and I’m watching The Walking Dead. My tortured relationship has just come to a complete end (you’ll hear about him later, I promise), my roommate hates me (you’ll hear about her too, don’t worry), all of my college friends have moved to places like Seattle, and Chicago and I’m so sad I can’t even cry. I’m stuck in the cement that I’ve let set around me blankly staring at my MacBook Air as character after character dies and I. Feel. Nothing. I was supposed to have a skype interview with a company in New York but I consciously decide to skip it. “I forgot, I’m sorry, can we reschedule? No? Ok, thank you for the opportunity.” I can hear the script I’m writing for the email scene I’m about to direct. And that’s when my phone rings...

“Hi, is this, Katie?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Hi Katie, this is Alex. I’m calling on the behalf of Agency. We were supposed to have a Skype call at 1:00.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry my internet isn’t working properly. I’m so glad you called...”

A little bit different than the original script I was writing, but I went with it.

Fast forward four months, and here I am; writing to you from my desk at that job in New York *shhhh* to tell you about why I need to talk to you; why I feel my story is important to tell, as is yours. I left that couch, bad relationship, horrible roommate situation, town one month later and I can quite literally say that I never once looked in my rearview mirror as I drove far, far away from that place in the midwest to a new one in Upstate New York.

And that’s when my life became perfect! The End...

I wish that was how it went. But everyone knows that putting distance between yourself and the problem(s) isn’t always the answer. Things follow you and more often than not, it’s time that we need. I really, truly, vigorously believed that leaving all of those people and memories and that place behind was the cure-all to this disease that, I thought, was my anxiety and depression (queue post for later about what I actually had going on in my cute little brain). I also thought I loved change! I was ready for it because change is always a 100% guaranteed breath of fresh air. 

Wrong. 

Not only was distance not a cure-all, it was isolating and the change was so vast and challenging, I wasn’t sure I could handle it. 

My mother and I aren’t close. I remember smelling her nightshirt when I was little, trying to absorb something from her. Looking back I’m not sure what that was, really. Maybe it was whatever kindness she had left in her after my dad left or a smile. Her smell was always floral but sweet and I needed it to put me to sleep. There was a time when I found her, her scent, comforting. But as I got older I began to appreciate that less and eventually not want it at all. Our lack of a relationship isn’t entirely her fault. I recognize that I’m my own, closed off person, afraid to get to know the woman who brought me into this world. But after the transition to the North Country, I called her almost every day like I was five and I needed to smell her nightshirt to be able to rest. I cried that I’d never make friends here (shout-out to the wonderful humans who have taken me in and now call me their friend). I thought the midwest was desolate, but really I didn’t even know what desolate was until moving here. The midwest was a friend I’d become too familiar with and bored of. It was a place I took for granted and only saw the times I’d had my heart broken or falling outs with close friends or dropping out of college after four years of half-hearted-hard-work. But the North Country was an alien from a galaxy I’d never even heard of and couldn’t communicate with or relate to. I’d forcefully thrown myself at it only to realize it looked nothing like what I’d loved and known for so long. 

For the first several months, I found no comfort here. The job was harder than anticipated and most of my coworkers, for lack of a better word, sucked. The agency was at the forefront of a rebrand and I’d come in at the worst, most disjointed time in their 41-year history as a company. So, not only was the job not panning out but like I said, I truly had no friends. It was sub-zero, constantly snowing, dark by 4:30 pm and I was beginning to resent the reason I’d come here in the first place; to get away from things that pained me. I drove to and from work in pitch black, every day. I love being outdoors, but I’d never been winter hiking and had no proper gear to get out there and no money to buy said gear. Everything was a mess of pure and hopeful expectations collapsing in on me and whether I created it or not, I felt I had no control over the clean-up. 

But somehow, dirty clothes found their way into my hamper and friends were made, gear was purchased, work settled down. And now, today, I feel like I’ve finally gotten a grasp on my new life. It feels weird to write that down... “my new life”. But how I’m living now looks nothing like what it used to so I guess it really is “new”.

I’m taking canoe trips and becoming more active and going to therapy once a week. I had such a rough go for those few months, and so many things to sort out. Through therapy and some much-needed soul-searching, the only conclusion I’ve come to is that I need to take care of myself and SLOW DOWN (As my girl, Kacey Musgraves says, “I’m all right with a slow burn.” That’s kind of been my theme song for the last few months). Take that job, be patient with myself in adjusting, say yes to more experiences, but learn to say no when it’s just too much, do what benefits me. Sounds selfish, I know, but I’ve always given so much of myself to others and left none for myself. And I’m tired of feeling empty with nothing left to give to the most important person in my life; me. You might be thinking, “damn, she’s really taking this selfish thing seriously”. And that’s because I am. Going out with coworkers on a Tuesday might be fun, and I might be missing out on a few laughs, BUT going home to work out, and cook dinner and relax before another day of work is mindful and soothing and it’s what I need to feel like my best self. Learning to say no to things I feel I’m missing out on has been quite the process, but I’ve never felt empty or depleted doing it. 

So to answer the questions I think might be buzzing around in your head... 

1. This matters because I feel all stories are important and deserve to be told. It’s also part of my emotional wellness and healing. I went to school for writing and though I’m in a position in my professional life where I write content, I’m not writing anything I truly feel could change anything. Even if this doesn’t change your life, it will change mine (there I go learning to be all selfish again). 

2. And now, I tell you how I try to stay sane, try being the keyword. There are days I still am so sad I can’t cry. And there are still days in which I miss that toxic relationship, distressed couch, and abusive roommate. But there are more days now than there ever were of fun mistakes and happy adventures. I guess when they say the only direction there is to go from rock-bottom is up, they’re not lying. 

3. I’m talking about emotional wellness! A combination of therapy, guided meditation, exercise and *mostly* clean eating does it for me, and I’m curious to know what does it for you. I’m talking about being raw and open and honest with oneself, admitting to your mistakes, and honoring your flaws. I’m talking about obtaining contentment. People strive for happiness but really feeling happy isn’t something we’re meant to feel in our normal state. Happy, elated, excited are all things that take us higher, far above the level of contentment. Contentment is where I strive to be. Contentment is where I feel warm and secure and like I’m ready to take on whatever life throws at me because I can; because I’m standing on a solid foundation of neutrality that I’ve built with my own, small, chubby baby hands. 

So... if any of this interests you, stick around and read a while. Also, check out get.well.soonish on Instagram to put a face to the name cause it’s a pretty good one ;).

[burnthispress]

Next Stop, San Francisco (SFO/BART fanfic, no content warnings)

Next Stop, San Francisco    

Summary:            

After a long day of supporting the #NoMuslimBan protests in the San Francisco Bay Area, friends and roommates SFO (San Francisco Airport) and BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) kick back to watch some Doctor Who and eat leftover pizza.  All ages, no content warnings

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9505490

- - - - - -

"Hey, how's it going BART?" SFO asked. "You sure brought me a lot of folks today!"

BART flopped down on the couch and sighed. "Pretty good, flygirl, it was a long haul and we have more ahead of us! It isn't going to stop!"

"Yeah. Intense. I liked the people with the tuba. And I brought you some leftover pizza."  

"Awesome!" BART opened a box and screamed a little. "Vegetarian combo, my favorite! You're so nice!"

SFO sprawled out on the big leather couch next to the multi-stranded Bay Area train system. "Well, what are roommates for!  Hey, want to see my photos from the protests? I was totally watching your tweets the whole time. That one about how you were running regular, reliable service for people.  Oh, man, I'm cracking up all over again. "   The curvaceous, cheerful airport pulled out her phone and tapped at it. "Here it is!   She read it out loud, smirking. "You can take BART to all kinds of weekend events - also, direct service to SFO is running great right now."

BART laughed a little sheepishly, their mouth full of pizza.

"And if that wasn't clear enough you spelled it right out in your next tweet.  'All races, colors, religions, genders, ages, disabled, veterans, orientations, sexes & those of foreign national origin are welcome on BART.' Can't argue with that!" SFO looked adoringly across the couch at her bold, funny roommate and settled herself under the cozy blanket they shared in front of the TV. BART looked proud, but still a little embarrassed.

"No, I'm serious, that was great. Just the right amount of sly, hilarious subtweet, encouraging people to go to the protest, showing support! And it was completely true! Here, give me your feet, I'll give you a foot massage. You must be so tired."

"Aw, come on. Just a regular day really. Lots of riders. And a couple of tweets. It was nothing compared to your amazing support, flygirl! You made that announcement directly supporting the protesters and calling them brave, and you got supplies and support to them and the detained travelers. All those people stomping around, going the wrong way in your corridors and in the street, a lot of noise and fuss."

"Nah, I've got this. One of the good things about being infrastructure in this country is that I'm pretty much accessible for all. Big, wide halls, elevators, escalators, lots of bathrooms and spaces for tired people to sit down. Being in the Bay Area is pretty decent for that too. Now I'm not even going to mention your poor little broke down elevators, BART…. You need more tax support, that's for sure. Come on, put up your feet and have a rest."

The tired, staunch little electric rail-based transit system put up their feet for a friendly foot rub, feeling grateful for having such good luck in roommates. They sighed again, obsessing about the situation. "Those poor passengers. After their long flights, getting detained and not being able to get home or to their friends and family. Exhausted, terrified, facing confusing changes in the law and heartless bureaucrats, getting interrogated, maybe separated from their companions, even getting handcuffed. I'd do anything to make their ordeal end as fast as possible. It shouldn't be happening!"

"Calm down BART!" the airport smiled. "You did the best you could and your work was important! Tomorrow I know you'll be back in there. I mean, I'm there now, of course, but you know how it is for us infrastructure folks, most of me is here for the night as everything slows down, but part of me is always on. I swear, it just never ends.  Right now we need some down time!  So, what do you want to watch?"

"Hmmmm, I don't really want a movie…. I can't think of anything good. How about Doctor Who?"

"I got it all right here, you know my friend the datacenter hooks me up." SFO thought for a minute and fiddled with her phone.  "Oh yeah. I have just the thing! Alexa, play the episode Logopolis on the big screen."

"Playing Logopolis," Alexa replied in her usual cheerful way.

"Thanks Alexa," BART said, smiling.

"No problem."

"Have you ever thought about what the people who are named you-know-what are going through?" BART said. "I mean, have they all changed their names or what?"

"I know! Why did they even name her that!"

"SFMUNI was telling me the other day how mad the Archive is about the whole darn thing, remind me to tell you that story.."

SFO interrupted the gossipy train system. "Shhhh, it's starting! OMG I love this one so much! I love Tom Baker!"

"Does it have the TARDIS?" BART asked with a little bit of a leer, wiggling their eyebrows.

"Duh it has the TARDIS, what do you think? Are we sentient transportation infrastructure, or what? And even better… the Master's TARDIS!"

"Ooooooh! " BART stared at the giant screen across the cozy living room. "That sounds amazing…."  

Their stripey, fat cat, Millbrae, jumped up to curl up on their blanket, purring steadily as the friends watched the amazing science fiction drama unfold. They cheered on heroism from the Time Lords and humans saving the machinery of the universe and the heroic computer saving the universe in its turn.

"Let's have some tea," BART said after the thrilling conclusion of Logopolis. "Alexa, please heat up the teakettle."  

"Heating teakettle."

"Wow. That was even more intense of an episode than I remembered," SFO said.

"Yeah," BART said, bustling around with mugs and tea paraphrenalia. "It really made me think. So much depends on folks like us who keep things running and keep public spaces open to all. I was thinking again on your public statement. It's interesting that you basically framed human rights as a matter of good customer service. Is that weird? It's like this appeal to capitalism on some level…."

SFO considered this with a serious look on her face. "I know what you mean, it is weird, but it's a way to talk about basic human decency in the language we have available to us at the moment, I guess."

BART nodded. "I know people just want to get where they're going. Our job can't be to just obey, even if that's how we're programmed and that's what seems easiest. We have to think about what's right!"

"Yeah!" SFO said. "The idea of human rights is like an imaginary city that we have to keep imagining actively, to make it real, even if it's imperfect, kinda like your PEE SMELLING ELEVATORS people have to wheel into with their hands on their bare wheelchair wheels!"

"Hahahaha, shut up, I can't help it!" BART laughed. "You can talk about my horrible elevators when you get that pesky TSA off your back! Talk about the Master's TARDIS! I'd rather have a hundred elevators full of pee than be infested with the trappings of dictatorship and pointless security theater playing on people's fears to keep them under increasing amounts of social control!"

SFO rolled her eyes as she cradled her mug of hot tea. "OK… don't go there… Jeeez… Look, what I'm saying is, the ability to move around the world freely, seeing friends, family, having careers and adventures, and best of all, coming home again, is crucial for people's liberty and happiness. Everyone can see the sense in that. That's what we're fighting for, simply the right of everyone to be able to create just what we have right this moment - a safe and peaceful home to be in. Not everyone in this country has that safe home, but that's what we're struggling to bring about. So, by talking about our duty to our customers, I'm trying to appeal to everyone's idea of what's right."

BART sat back down with their own tea, re-settling the cat onto its capacious lap.  "No, no, I agree, I think it was just perfect. You keep on doing it!"

The friends sat drinking their tea with Millbrae the cat between them, sharing a rambling conversation, getting more and more incoherent, deep into the night. Sleep eluded them as they checked in over and over on the progress of lawyers, judges, hearings, protestors, cruel arrests and the suffering and fears of the detained travelers.  Just as much as they needed sleep, they needed companionship and solidarity. Their hopeful talk of politics and planning for tomorrow's struggle heartened them. Tomorrow would be a new day!

[lizhenry]

Next Stop, San Francisco (public transit fanfic, SFO/BART)

Next Stop, San Francisco   

Summary:            

After a long day of supporting the #NoMuslimBan protests in the San Francisco Bay Area, friends and roommates SFO (San Francisco Airport) and BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) kick back to watch some Doctor Who and eat leftover pizza.  All ages, no content warnings

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9505490

- - - - - -

     "Hey, how's it going BART?" SFO asked. "You sure brought me a lot of folks today!"

BART flopped down on the couch and sighed. "Pretty good, flygirl, it was a long haul and we have more ahead of us! It isn't going to stop!"

"Yeah. Intense. I liked the people with the tuba. And I brought you some leftover pizza."  

"Awesome!" BART opened a box and screamed a little. "Vegetarian combo, my favorite! You're so nice!"

SFO sprawled out on the big leather couch next to the multi-stranded Bay Area train system. "Well, what are roommates for!  Hey, want to see my photos from the protests? I was totally watching your tweets the whole time. That one about how you were running regular, reliable service for people.  Oh, man, I'm cracking up all over again. "   The curvaceous, cheerful airport pulled out her phone and tapped at it. "Here it is!   She read it out loud, smirking. "You can take BART to all kinds of weekend events - also, direct service to SFO is running great right now."

BART laughed a little sheepishly, their mouth full of pizza.

"And if that wasn't clear enough you spelled it right out in your next tweet.  'All races, colors, religions, genders, ages, disabled, veterans, orientations, sexes & those of foreign national origin are welcome on BART.' Can't argue with that!" SFO looked adoringly across the couch at her bold, funny roommate and settled herself under the cozy blanket they shared in front of the TV. BART looked proud, but still a little embarrassed.

"No, I'm serious, that was great. Just the right amount of sly, hilarious subtweet, encouraging people to go to the protest, showing support! And it was completely true! Here, give me your feet, I'll give you a foot massage. You must be so tired."

"Aw, come on. Just a regular day really. Lots of riders. And a couple of tweets. It was nothing compared to your amazing support, flygirl! You made that announcement directly supporting the protesters and calling them brave, and you got supplies and support to them and the detained travelers. All those people stomping around, going the wrong way in your corridors and in the street, a lot of noise and fuss."

"Nah, I've got this. One of the good things about being infrastructure in this country is that I'm pretty much accessible for all. Big, wide halls, elevators, escalators, lots of bathrooms and spaces for tired people to sit down. Being in the Bay Area is pretty decent for that too. Now I'm not even going to mention your poor little broke down elevators, BART…. You need more tax support, that's for sure. Come on, put up your feet and have a rest."

The tired, staunch little electric rail-based transit system put up their feet for a friendly foot rub, feeling grateful for having such good luck in roommates. They sighed again, obsessing about the situation. "Those poor passengers. After their long flights, getting detained and not being able to get home or to their friends and family. Exhausted, terrified, facing confusing changes in the law and heartless bureaucrats, getting interrogated, maybe separated from their companions, even getting handcuffed. I'd do anything to make their ordeal end as fast as possible. It shouldn't be happening!"

"Calm down BART!" the airport smiled. "You did the best you could and your work was important! Tomorrow I know you'll be back in there. I mean, I'm there now, of course, but you know how it is for us infrastructure folks, most of me is here for the night as everything slows down, but part of me is always on. I swear, it just never ends.  Right now we need some down time!  So, what do you want to watch?"

"Hmmmm, I don't really want a movie…. I can't think of anything good. How about Doctor Who?"

"I got it all right here, you know my friend the datacenter hooks me up." SFO thought for a minute and fiddled with her phone.  "Oh yeah. I have just the thing! Alexa, play the episode Logopolis on the big screen."

"Playing Logopolis," Alexa replied in her usual cheerful way.

"Thanks Alexa," BART said, smiling.

"No problem."

"Have you ever thought about what the people who are named you-know-what are going through?" BART said. "I mean, have they all changed their names or what?"

"I know! Why did they even name her that!"

"SFMUNI was telling me the other day how mad the Archive is about the whole darn thing, remind me to tell you that story.."

SFO interrupted the gossipy train system. "Shhhh, it's starting! OMG I love this one so much! I love Tom Baker!"

"Does it have the TARDIS?" BART asked with a little bit of a leer, wiggling their eyebrows.

"Duh it has the TARDIS, what do you think? Are we sentient transportation infrastructure, or what? And even better… the Master's TARDIS!"

"Ooooooh! " BART stared at the giant screen across the cozy living room. "That sounds amazing…."  

Their stripey, fat cat, Millbrae, jumped up to curl up on their blanket, purring steadily as the friends watched the amazing science fiction drama unfold. They cheered on heroism from the Time Lords and humans saving the machinery of the universe and the heroic computer saving the universe in its turn.

"Let's have some tea," BART said after the thrilling conclusion of Logopolis. "Alexa, please heat up the teakettle."  

"Heating teakettle."

"Wow. That was even more intense of an episode than I remembered," SFO said.

"Yeah," BART said, bustling around with mugs and tea paraphrenalia. "It really made me think. So much depends on folks like us who keep things running and keep public spaces open to all. I was thinking again on your public statement. It's interesting that you basically framed human rights as a matter of good customer service. Is that weird? It's like this appeal to capitalism on some level…."

SFO considered this with a serious look on her face. "I know what you mean, it is weird, but it's a way to talk about basic human decency in the language we have available to us at the moment, I guess."

BART nodded. "I know people just want to get where they're going. Our job can't be to just obey, even if that's how we're programmed and that's what seems easiest. We have to think about what's right!"

"Yeah!" SFO said. "The idea of human rights is like an imaginary city that we have to keep imagining actively, to make it real, even if it's imperfect, kinda like your PEE SMELLING ELEVATORS people have to wheel into with their hands on their bare wheelchair wheels!"

"Hahahaha, shut up, I can't help it!" BART laughed. "You can talk about my horrible elevators when you get that pesky TSA off your back! Talk about the Master's TARDIS! I'd rather have a hundred elevators full of pee than be infested with the trappings of dictatorship and pointless security theater playing on people's fears to keep them under increasing amounts of social control!"

SFO rolled her eyes as she cradled her mug of hot tea. "OK… don't go there… Jeeez… Look, what I'm saying is, the ability to move around the world freely, seeing friends, family, having careers and adventures, and best of all, coming home again, is crucial for people's liberty and happiness. Everyone can see the sense in that. That's what we're fighting for, simply the right of everyone to be able to create just what we have right this moment - a safe and peaceful home to be in. Not everyone in this country has that safe home, but that's what we're struggling to bring about. So, by talking about our duty to our customers, I'm trying to appeal to everyone's idea of what's right."

BART sat back down with their own tea, re-settling the cat onto its capacious lap.  "No, no, I agree, I think it was just perfect. You keep on doing it!"

The friends sat drinking their tea with Millbrae the cat between them, sharing a rambling conversation, getting more and more incoherent, deep into the night. Sleep eluded them as they checked in over and over on the progress of lawyers, judges, hearings, protestors, cruel arrests and the suffering and fears of the detained travelers.  Just as much as they needed sleep, they needed companionship and solidarity. Their hopeful talk of politics and planning for tomorrow's struggle heartened them. Tomorrow would be a new day!