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reallygrossstuff · 2 years ago

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Dave - Even More Tender Refurbishment

(Not actually connected to Tender Refurbishment, I just like the name)

In this, Bro finds Dave as a plush toy in a thrift store and gives him a restoration back to peak condition. Honestly this turned out way softer than I initially intended so let me know what you think!

Dave would have sighed when the thrift store opened, if any part of his anatomy allowed him to. He had no reason to think today would be any better or worse than any other day, but the eternal optimist within him figured that there were always new ways for the world to fuck him over.

When he’d first been donated he’d been put in the big glass case under the counter, the owner apparently predicting a fast sale given his size and uniqueness. But it’d been at least a month since then, and when he hadn’t shifted fast he’d been put closer to the back with the rest of the fifth-hand toys to collect dust. On particularly lonely nights Dave wondered if any of his shelf-mates were suffering silently like he was, though of course he had no way to tell.

It wasn’t like Dave didn’t know why he was slow to sell. He might not have been able to see himself, but he figured his various aches and pains probably had some visible cause. His deaf ear, the various itches and pinched spots across his body, not to mention the soul-deep ache that he’d been forced to admit came from the tail he now had... he wasn’t going to be anyone’s first choice, and at this point he was a little glad of that fact. He’d earned a cushy retirement, he figured.

If only to stave off going insane, he forced himself to start paying attention when the antique bell above the door rang. It was unusual but not unheard of to get a customer within the first ten minutes, but generally it just ended up being an old friend of the owner or someone getting the address mixed up with the coffee shop next door. Nobody who came in far enough for him to see.

It seemed more like the first this time, the hum of conversation going on a little longer than normal. Dave was sat the wrong way for his good ear to pick up the words, but at least he had enough of his senses to feel it when footsteps unexpectedly moved further into the store. What, did this guy want to look at the rusty spoons or something?

Then the customer rounded the corner where Dave could see him, and he couldn’t find the right thoughts for a long minute.

How the fuck?

Bro nodded to Marshall behind the counter when the store finally opened and he could step in out of the sun. Normally he didn’t make an effort to get to these stores early, but there hadn’t been many new listings to go through in the morning, and if he’d stayed home doing nothing he would’ve started spiralling again, so he made himself get up and go a few minutes earlier than normal.

“Mornin’, Ambrose.” Marshall was a nice enough guy, even if he tended to use more words than Bro would have needed. “That time of the month again, huh?”

To be fair to him, it was. Normally he came in on the first, but this month that had been a Monday, and Mondays were always for trawling the new Goodwill stock, so this visit had been delayed. Still, he couldn’t delay too long, not if he didn’t want his find getting snatched out from under his nose. “Sure is,” he agreed bluntly, with a spare shred of politeness since Marshall was honestly a good sort. “Got anything new in since last time?”

“Nothin’ recent, but I think Jess put up a few donations the shelter rejected, so I can’t be sure. Y’know I’d put this holy grail ‘a yours aside for ya if you actually told me what it looked like?”

“Can’t remember, sorry.” Maybe if he had more of an idea what he was looking for, he wouldn’t have to spend so many hours casting a wide net every day. “I’ll know it when I see it, though.”

“Well, go an’ see if you do.” Marshall waved towards the row Bro knew contained the kids’ toys, still going through the motions of unlocking the rusty old register he never got around to replacing.

Bro was happy to do just that. The shop wasn’t large, but it still had enough soft toys and dolls to warrant an entire wall of shelving in the back. Even so, Bro knew everything above eye level had lived there longer than Marshall’s own daughter, so he could write half of the space off and focus on what he could see as he paced the row.

He wasn’t really expecting much, truth be told. Maybe in those first few months it’d been fair to think he’d find what he was looking for close to home, but after the first year he’d only kept coming out of a need for routine. He was much more likely to find a hit on one of the auction sites, the net widening by necessity every month as the possible travel range increased. All he could do was keep editing his searches and hope he found something before there were too many listings to-

Black glass caught the light in the corner of Bro’s eye.

Bro was back across the aisle fast enough to make his hair ruffle slightly, tracking the reflection back to its source. It wasn’t uncommon in the grand scheme of things to find a toy with glasses as a part of its design, or maybe even featuring a prop pair attached over its eyes, but the collector in him knew that real glass, even shatterproof and rounded off, was a rarity in a child’s toy. Solid black glass aviators were as clear a signal as he’d found yet, even if the toy they were on made his heart ache.

Sitting just below eye level on one of the larger shelves was a fluffy-looking golden retriever plush, its limbs arranged as if it was begging for a treat or preparing to jump upwards as a trick. Bro estimated it to be about the size of his torso, large enough that the handful of rips in its stitching were readily apparent. Its fur was solid yellow all over with a slight darkening to indicate its paws and ears, but even on a first inspection he could see a half-dozen spots where it was matted down, the victim of any number of potential splashes that hadn’t been properly cleaned off. The paws didn’t have any torn stitches, but the dark black thread that was meant to separate out each toe was more than half missing, his left hind leg in particular dangling a single depressing black string from a cheap patch job.

Picking it up carefully - and wincing as the left ear flopped a little more than its stitching should have allowed - he turned it over to examine in more detail. The aviators that had clued Bro in were attached to the sides of its head with a pair of professional handmade stitches, standing up to the test of time better than some other parts of it. There was a large decal of a record stitched into its stomach, though that in itself didn’t mean anything - Bro still had a whole duffel of music-themed toys to repair and rehome once his most important project was brought to a successful close.

What was more likely to tell him what he needed, Bro knew, was the tush tag. Spinning the toy the rest of the way around, he found it under the water-stained tail, holding on for dear life with half of its stitching pulled as if someone had tried to rip it right off. Smoothing it out carefully, Bro lowered his shades to take in the label sewn straight into the tag - and that was when he knew.

Strider Plush Toys Co.

mfd. 2019

“can i stay the night here on my way home?”

Bro’s breath left him in a choked wheeze, his hand tightening instinctively around the toy’s middle as if someone would come to take him away. He looked around at the thought, giving into his paranoia, but nobody else had come in yet and Marshall was still behind the counter.

With nobody to judge him, Bro brought Dave close in a gentle hug, the toy’s plush chin tucked against his shoulder as he let himself shudder through his next few breaths. “Holy shit. Not in the best shape, lil man, but - you made it home. I got you now, I’ll take care of everythin’ now.”

Relaxing his hold on Dave after a minute (and, to be honest, once the smell started getting to him), Bro looked him over for a price tag. Thankfully the store used paper tags instead of stickers for anything fabric, and he found the small slip tied with butcher’s twine around one of his paws. Twenty bucks, and under any other circumstances Bro would’ve told someone off for the poor valuing, but in the moment he was more interested in beating a hasty retreat to the safety of his apartment.

“Hey Marshall,” he called out across the store, “you got that register open yet?”

Dave somehow looked both better and worse once he was on Bro’s worktable. On the one hand, it was a relief that none of his fluff had slipped out in the drive home, and no new problems had revealed themselves. On the other hand, the solid and direct light above the table revealed just how many stain spots he had, and the slight discoloration to some of them was uncomfortable to even look at.

“Normally I’d give you a full refurb, make it a big welcome home thing,” Bro told Dave as he gently snicked a few more stitches with the seam ripper, “but I don’t wanna get into the moral question of if this fluff counts as you, and it’s in pretty good shape. So I’m just gonna put it aside and reuse it once you’re washed.”

Once he’d created a wider opening to work with, he emptied Dave’s stuffing out into a small bowl for later - first with his gloved fingers, then using a pair of tweezers to chase out the last bits until he was confident he’d gotten everything. He also gently pulled the stitches holding Dave’s shades on, putting them on top of the pile and leaving the dog a floppy pile of cloth.

The sight of Dave in that state was alarming to say the least, so Bro quickly moved on. He’d pre-prepped a second bowl with cold water and detergent, and carefully submerged Dave until he started to saturate. “Seen some second-hands that need a few runs of this to get all the stains out, but I think you’re gonna be fine with one,” Bro spoke half to himself as he began slowly prodding and squeezing where the most visible stains were located. “None of these look like paint or anythin’ tough, just lil kid stuff.”

He worked with each stain in turn, squeezing and applying gentle pressure with a few separate cloths to coax the stains out. There were tough patches of mud on Dave’s back paws that quickly loosened but left difficult dark splotches in his fur, and as he worked Bro realised he’d need to replace more of the stitching than he’d first thought, the pale threads having darkened from stains that would never come out from a hand wash.

Two hours of tiring but rewarding work later, Bro was ready to lay Dave out on a fresh towel to dry. He brushed all of Dave’s fur flat to start, then carefully waved a hairdryer over him for a few minutes, ensuring its heat was as low as it would go. Once he felt Dave had dried as much as this would allow, he brushed Dave out again and laid a second towel over top of him to soak up more moisture before pushing his chair back and burying his face in his hands.

Dave was back. He’d found him. Four years of searching thrift stores, online auctions and charity bins, growing more sure each day that he’d never actually find him, but only growing more determined to keep looking because of that, and now he was back. Whatever Dave had gone through, however many owners he’d had, he’d gotten back home in one piece, in a salvageable state, and that left Bro free to quietly break down.

(How many days had he spent worrying that he wasn’t looking for the right thing? That he’d misremembered Dave’s colour, misjudged what shape he’d take? How many nights had he dreamt of Dave sitting alone and unfound in a dumpster somewhere, counting down the minutes until he’d be buried in a landfill with no chance of discovery?)

But it had paid off. As if it was fate, or just Dave’s sheer will to be found, he’d turned up right under Bro’s nose, and now he could start to put things right.

Taking another shuddering breath, Bro stood up and went to decide on thread colours.

Dave tried not to pay attention to the specifics of his repairs, because that was a type of body horror he had no stomach for (literally, haha), but he could still feel the effects it had on him.

Once he was clean and dry, an itch went away that he’d had for so long he’d forgotten it existed. Being unstitched had replaced his awkward pinched feeling with a novel but equally unpleasant sensation of insubstantiality that only grew worse when his stuffing was removed. Once he was washed, however, the sensation of Bro’s slow, even stitches was a relief, returning him to a baseline he’d forgotten existed.

(He didn’t really understand the point of the tiny plush heart Bro tucked in amidst his stuffing, since those were meant to be made from a toy’s original stuffing and his hadn’t been replaced, but he couldn’t deny it made him feel warmer.)

Having the stitching of his paws redone in tight, straight lines took away phantom joint pain he’d resigned to living with. Re-attaching his ear properly to his head - learning that it had been almost ready to fall off and he hadn’t even known was terrifying - had returned his hearing to wonderful stereo, and meant Bro’s voice was no longer reduced to a mumble when he turned Dave over onto his good side.

The only piece of damage Bro had done himself, the stitching on the sides of his head was easily replaced. Dave’s vision once more darkened satisfyingly, making the white light above the worktable bearable and leaving Dave feeling much more himself.

Finally, the part Bro was apparently the most apprehensive of, the tush tag.

Dave wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal, and from Bro’s mumbling neither was he, but Dave couldn’t deny a certain level of apprehension as he watched his bro thread one of his smallest needles with an almost invisible white thread.

“Dunno why you’ve got one of these in the first place, but the last thing I’m gonna do is let a piece of you just fall off, yeah?” Bro’s voice was barely audible, coming out through a clenched jaw as he visibly pushed himself into that space of absolute perfection he demanded of his work. He stopped speaking entirely a moment later, as Dave felt the first soft poke of the needle against his tail.

This wasn’t like any of Dave’s other repairs that day. All of those had had a physical effect on him, relieving aches and curing ailments in a way that was logical, if not sensible. With his tag, though, it seemed to go deeper, affecting him in a way he just couldn’t grasp.

With every stitch Bro repaired (because somehow, here, he felt every one), Dave felt himself... slowing. If he was human, maybe he’d have felt the blood stop rushing in his ears, or his pulse stop hammering in his chest. Without any of these physical responses, all he was left with was the sense that he was being grounded back into his body; a sentiment that would have been unwanted, if Bro hadn’t spent the last five hours methodically returning that body into an inhabitable state.

The final stitch was such a relief that it left him feeling lethargic, hardly paying attention as Bro lifted him up and once more turned him over, examining him for any last imperfections. There was something comforting in the way Bro’s hands held him, with all the love that a snotty kid could muster but none of the roughness of their sudden tugs and grabs.

“Looks like that’s everything, least for now,” Bro murmured, setting Dave down lengthways across his lap. “You’re good as new, lil bro. Or at least, new as you were when...”

Bro’s voice cut into a deep sigh, the mask of detachment Dave knew he’d been wearing slipping off for the first time since he’d grabbed Dave in the store. Lifting him up again, Bro hugged Dave against his chest, his neck pressing lightly into Dave’s back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, kid. And that I lost you in the first place. I don’t - I dunno what I can do, really, but whatever it is I’ll do it. I’ll get you back for good, or make this better for you, or - hell, just, whatever I can do for you. And you’ll be safe here, no matter what. You’re home now.”

For once, Dave was glad he couldn’t speak - if he could, he had no idea what he would’ve said to such an open remark. Maybe it was his muteness that let Bro say that in the first place, but either way he felt his mind struggling to catch up as Bro stood and carried him to another room.

The sight of his bedroom didn’t mean much to Dave at first, with every familiar shape covered by a plain white sheet. He watched as Bro pulled off the sheet covering the bed, revealing it to be dust-free and neatly made, still with the same sheets Dave remembered from his last night sleeping in it.

Carefully, as if he hadn’t just unpicked him and put him back together, Bro set Dave on top of the blankets with his side leaned against his pillow, facing out towards the hall. “I’ll figure out what to do tomorrow, I promise. For now, I think we both need to sleep for twelve hours or so, huh?” Bro’s lip quirked minutely, the reassuring mask of confidence back in place. “Night, Dave.”

Bro turned and left, flicking off the bedroom light but leaving the door open. A minute or so after he went, Dave saw him lean in again, hardly visible past the half-open door, as if to confirm Dave was still there. But then he left again, and the apartment was quiet.

Dave didn’t know what to do. Nothing, obviously, he couldn’t have done anything if he tried. But he was back now, finally, on the bed and against the pillow he’d been missing for four years. His bro was in the other room, putting away his work things before bed, and below him the distant rush of traffic sounded as it always had in his memories.

What was anyone supposed to do, when they finally returned home? Sitting there, chest full to bursting with some warm emotion, Dave decided the only thing to do was shut his brain off and sleep.

After all, he’d still be there in the morning.

#really gross stuff #homestuck #transformation #dave strider #Bro Strider #inanimate

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coffee-at-annies · 8 months ago

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I don't think its stigma against prospects per se. Its less a stigma against them as a class and more of them as an experience or age bracket. The player someone is at 18 is not the same as at 25 is not the same as at 30. Players grow and mature and develop both their skills and their game styles. Players play differently under different coaches in different team systems with different teammates. A prospect may be absolutely lighting it up at a college level but just because someone is the best player on their college team (and a lot of prospects are young enough that they aren't in the ahl yet) doesn't mean they can reliably skate 20 minutes on the wing of Sidney Crosby or Evgeni Malkin and not only make an impact with scoring but also not be a liability in front of our net. We won't know if they aren't given the chance - which is why we spend so much time yelling on the internet about Sully not trusting the ahl guys - but giving the wrong guy a chance can lead to the puck in the back of your net.

Keep in mind that the different leagues are simply put different. Play style is one of them, the ahl allows checking but idk if college or under 18 leagues do. Women's leagues before the pwhl famously did not and the pwhl has very limited checking allowed. Basic play strategy is different with or without checking. Ice size is sometimes a difference, for example international ice rinks are different sizes than nhl ice. The skill level of the players is different, both on the same team and opposing teams. The best goalie in the ahl is still in the ahl. They may be nhl ready, but an nhl ready goalie and a vezina trophy candidate are two different things. This is the same for defenses and forwards. On top of that when going from one team to another prospects have to learn an entirely new set of teammates (maybe even an entirely new coach or play system). Learning the ropes can take time, which is another knock against prospects. They may not have that time between games, cap and contract restrictions, and lack of practice time. The schedule is also way different. I don't know much about college or the under 18 leagues but the WBS "baby" Penguins have 11 games scheduled for March mostly Fridays through Sundays with a single Monday game. The "adult" Pittsburgh Penguins have 16 games scheduled for March, basically every two days outside of back-to-backs and the occasional two day break. Can a prospect play 10 or 20 minutes a night 4 nights a week? Does the coach trust them to play at a high level and in high stakes situations? Does the coach trust them not to make mistakes when tired? Travel is also different in leagues. WBS primarily busses to their away games and idk how far the farthest away game is, but the farthest nhl away game is several timezones away. How well does a player adapt to the time change? (This is a minor thing, but its to highlight all the questions people have about prospects).

I haven't even mentioned team roles and special teams. Center is different from wing and top 6 is different than bottom 6. (I don't understand defense tbh). Bottom 6 tends to focus on shutdown roles while top 6 is supposed to score. Play styles are different because of that. If all the slots in your top 6 are filled is there even a point in calling up your best ahl center when the only spot is 4th line wing? Can he develop into a 20 goal scorer if he's not on the pp and isn't getting top line minutes? The best part of grind line was when they were on the ice I knew the other team wouldn't score but maybe we would. Jared McCann was on our third line wing for longer than he was on our first or second line wings. Does he become a 20 goal scorer from the third line? No. He could have earned his way back up to the higher lines, but that doesn't mean he'd stay there.

I didn't even mention injury and injury history. We haven't seen Poulin this year because he's been injured when it made the most sense to call him up. People have been injured and come back and had phenomenal seasons. Clayton Keller on the Yotes was a masterton finalist last year after fracturing his leg to end the season before and came back to score 63 pts. In contrast, I can point to Brian Dumolin's knee injuries as the reason for the decline in his play last year and no offense to Geno but he's on his 3rd knee and it was a big question for a while if he could come back from that injury. Any injury at the lower levels cuts into player development time and can set them back. There's also a physicality and growth question for young guys. Stuff like weight and muscle mass and other stuff may still be developing for players. I can't name a someone who's had a growth spurt after being drafted because I don't care about the draft or prospects tbh, but they always talk about the weight players put on over the summer and how much they may lose over the course of the season. I'm the same height now I was at 13, but I know tons of people who were still growing at 17. The way someone skates at 5'9 is different than at 6'0 or 6'5. Those players need time and practice to adjust their games. Are they finished developing? Can they get better? Can they make the adjustment quickly or will it take time?

Simply put there are a lot of questions when it comes to player development and there are more players and prospects than there are roster spots. I'm not saying its right, but nhl teams are trying to win every game which means making the right gambles, and between development and injuries that can be a crapshoot. A lot of people drafted high or considered a top prospect never make it to the league or drop out after a handful of seasons. There are always more people waiting to replace someone. Its both next man up mentality and a fact of sports.

NHL-wide thought: it's funny how when a team has reached it's expiration date they call for a retool to get younger and refresh the roster to compete. but when they see prospects doing so well before coming in the show, they're like "but does his game translate well to the NHL???" or "is he NHL ready?" What really is the deal about prospects and why is there so much stigma about them despite the need to rebuild at some point?

good question, anon! I would like to know the answer to this too, but sadly I am here exclusively for the shits, giggles and pretty faces so am probably not the best person to ask.

I would suggest asking... perhaps @reavenedges-lies @coffee-at-annies or @idontlikeem all of whom i think know far more about Proper Hockey Stuff!

#chit chat #was writing this while watching the pirates game and totally missed the pens game starting #oops #I am no expert #im just someone whos been here for a minute and seen the questions being asked #just look at the rookies around the league and the calder race to see how different young players perform

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ey-there-little-guy · 2 years ago

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Hi I have more rambles and facts about my mer au bc i got a nice comment ^_^

Leviathans start off the size of an average adult mer (couple feet bigger than an average human) and then in childhood get about as big as a van. still quite small, they fit in parents' hands like kitten. It makes it easier to keep them safe.

When they hit adolescence they have a giant growth spurt and become very long, like, ~60-70 feet, and fast as hell, they also get claws.

they don't start putting on actual mass until late adolescence/young adult and even then are still only about ~80-90 feet, 3/4 as big as a fully grown leviathan. This is where Ranboo is at 93-ish feet. - Now some human/Tubbo things:

Humans have lots of stories about leviathans, some even have leviathan scales if their ancestors fought and killed one. there's not tons of those though, since it was more likely a leviathan would escape deep underwater after the finishing hit and then die. there were still cases where a dozen or so ships could trap a leviathan at the surface for a bit that made it possible to get scales as a trophy.

Tubbo was raised on those stories, how seaside towns like his used to be a sailor's retreat and were bombarded by waves and flooding from leviathan's large movements and stubborn fishermen were attacked by just as stubborn mers. the centuries of leviathan hunting that eventually made the beach a relaxing place to go instead of a death wish.

And stories from grandparents and their grandparents about leviathans chucking ships into the sky with one throw and smashing hulls, having to aim cannons and harpoons just right and months spent making spiky nets that were just thick enough to hurt and give them that extra second to land another hit.

Tubbo was glad he didn't have to deal with leviathans in his time and that mers didn't snatch people from beaches anymore, he could wander down whenever he liked and only have to worry about drowning, not anything else, besides maybe the stray jellyfish once in a while.

So yeah most stories he heard focused on the leviathans violent attacks, then Ranboo saved him and made him reconsider the true nature of leviathans.

After all, this huge creature could hold him in one palm, easily crush him, or hold him underwater, or anything, really. But all it did was look at him with huge eyes, head half above the water, and bring him safely back to shore. It was the opposite of all the stories he'd ever heard and he wanted to know why. - Getting a bit more miscellaneous:

- Pretty early on Tubbo gives Ranboo the name 'Boo', since Ranboo can't communicate with Tubbo and Tubbo doesn't realize Ranboo is sapient yet.

'Boo' because Ranboo appears very spectral-like underwater, being all black and white, and they're silent like a ghost too, and certainly gave Tubbo a scare like one, so they are now Boo. Yes Ranboo thinks it's funny how Tubbo basically guessed half their name.

- Ranboo's parents were killed by one of the last generations of leviathan hunters when they were a child, they were caught and that lured their parents out. They even got a fin on their back torn off in the fight, tho it's not visible bc they have pretty long hair in this au.

that fact actually gets a bit dark bc Ranboo still stays in the same cavern that they died. they were small and terrified of being caught they didn't know what else to do but stay :( now there's just the bones.

- on a happier note, I am strongly considering making the sprites that are Ranboo's chat little creatures that like to stick to leviathans, because i think hundreds of little glowing creatures floating around a leviathan makes a really cool mental image. Tubbo could hold one and think, 'ah, so this is what it's like for Boo'

they might stick to deeper waters or not like light very much, and they'd help out leviathans and surrounding merfolk kinda like remoras? unsure. in my head they're just little glowy guys that nibble sometimes and look like they'd say yipee.

- Tubbo gets protective of Ranboo after he realizes this leviathan is just a big ol' softie. He can think of a handful of people that would be willing to hunt the leviathan if word got out.

Little does Tubbo know Ranboo has this amazing tactic called hiding underwater that works pretty effectively when it's just themself they need to worry about.

#giant!ranboo #tiny!tubbo #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp gt #Lulled by Waves au #love these guys <3 #im gonna sleep now lol

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jovialjuggernaut-draws · 2 years ago

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"would you kiss them?" "..." "there's your answer."

"Would you kiss him?"

"..."

"There's your answer."

"It's not that simple!" Bruce groaned.

Selina rolled her eyes, going back to finger-combing her pink wig. "It is, though. It's perfectly simple. 'Complicated feelings' are liars. Your head's telling you 'this guy is trash' and your heart's telling you 'he's a jerk'. It's just your pussy telling you to give him a chance."

"Selina, you know I don't have a-"

"You know what I mean!" She tossed the nearest cat toy she could grab at him, the little ball jingling when it bounced off his shoulder and attracting no less than three excited cats to chase after it where it rolled across the cluttered apartment floor. "I've had to have this talk a dozen times, about guys who did a hell of a lot less than literally try to kill them, and none of those girls have been half as stubborn as you're being! Stop mooning over him if you wouldn't even kiss him!"

"I'm not mooning," Bruce grumbled.

"Oh, really." Selina put on an exaggerated pout, folding her fingers under her chin and batting her eyelashes up at Bruce. "Oh, uwuwuwu, I feel so bad about Eddie, and do you know what Eddie said when I went to visit him in Arkham? And oh, Selina, do you think I was too mean, after he tried to fucking kill me, do you think I should have been nicer, he seemed sooo sad, Selina! Do you think he'd forgive me if I sucked his dick, Selina?!"

"I don't sound like that!" Bruce snapped, though, insultingly silly voice aside, he had said those things… some of those things, anyway.

"You can't let a guilty conscience and a cute face dupe you into doing dumb things!" Selina snapped back at him, gesturing with the wig too harshly and tangling it again. She slumped into her mattress, returning to her task with a tension to her full lips. "...You're better than that."

Bruce fidgeted with his gloves, embarrassed by the unexpected declaration of faith. "...Thanks."

She shrugged, avoiding his eyes while she hooked the wig's clips into place, sizing it down to fit before sliding it carefully into place. "Don't mention it. If you want to thank me, just… actually take my advice. Okay?"

"...Okay."

She stared him in the eye- or, well, in the mask near his eyes, as he was also avoiding her gaze. "I gotta go, okay? Stay here if you gotta, but make sure you close up when you leave. Heating bill's high enough as it is."

She marched past, her stilettos giving her just enough of a boost to come up to Bruce's chin, and she paused to press a quick kiss to the sharp cheekbone of the cowl before continuing on her way out, graceful despite the minefield of cat toys and balled-up trash between her and the door.

"Don't be a stranger!"

The door clicked shut, the lock clicking into place behind her. Bruce let out a heavy sigh, sinking to her low, lumpy mattress, a cat leaping to fill his lap the moment he touched down. Absent-mindedly, he stroked the dark fur, earning a throaty chirp along with the loud purr, the cat's entire body leaning heavily into him.

'Complicated feelings are liars', she had said, but what of his feelings weren't complicated? He surrounded himself with complicated, to the point that simple seemed more like a trap than a safety net. So what if the emotion muddying his resentment of Edward was guilt? He did still feel an obligation to help him, and if guilt made that obligation less genuine, well, then, that would render his entire crusade against crime in Gotham just as hollow and that didn't bear thinking about.

"She just doesn't get it," he told the cat in his lap, to which it gave a contented little meow in reply.

#riddlebat #batriddler #tho eddie doesnt actually show up #selinas here for emotional support as per usual #the batman (2022)

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songmingisthighs · 3 years ago

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Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. xxix - 'stuff'

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

Once you all arrived, you immediately exit the van and ran inside the villa to see how it is in real life.

The porch was simple and rustic but very inviting whereas the interior is very homey. A living room welcomes you as soon as you open the door, it was quite spacious. To the left of the door is the stairs that lead to the second floor. Behind the couch is the dining room with a dining table that sits 10 people, a kitchen, and a door that leads directly to the beach outback.

You were so busy taking the interior in, you didn't realize your tall best friend behind you.

Mingi managed to spin you around so suddenly and heave you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making you squeal loudly before he ran up the stairs to tag a room.

There were four rooms which would mean three rooms will be used by two people, three in one room. So naturally, Mingi decided he'll be staying in the biggest room with you and Jongho.

"My bag is still downstairs, you know?" You giggled at Mingi as he put you down on the king-sized bed before dropping his bag near the bed.

Mingi was about to answer when Wooyoung came in with both your and his bag in his hands, "nope, got your bag right here," he grinned widely, showing that he in fact has your things with him.

Wooyoung drops both bags near Mingi's before jumping on the bed. Or more likely, on you.

"Wooyoung!" You squealed loudly when he wrapped all his limbs around you and tucking his face into the crook of your neck. "Hey!" Mingi exclaimed loudly, immediately trying to pull Wooyoung off of your body, "no! Wooyoung, get off and get out! This is my room and (Y/N)'s and Jongho's!" he whined.

As if not hearing the taller guy, Wooyoung ignored him completely and opt to nuzzle his face onto the skin of your neck deeper, softly breathing against it which elicit a giggle out of you.

Sensing that he was being ignored, Mingi walked over and smack Wooyoung square on his ass with a pout on his face.

"Don't hog on (Y/N)!" he whined, hoping that Wooyoung would just detach himself from you on his own and leave the room. But said male just face Mingi and stuck his tongue out childishly.

You could see one of Mingi's eyes twitch at Wooyoung's response, so you sat yourself up and reach to hold onto Mingi's hand with a smile on your face, "it's okay Gi, the three of us can room together instead, pretty sure Jongho can find his own roommate," you assured him.

Though he was still pouting, he sat on your other side and began to wrap his own longer limbs around you, forcing you to fall back into the bed and be stuck in a mess of tangled limbs. Mingi kept trying to push Wooyoung's arms and legs off of you and soon Wooyoung was doing the same. Now you're just stuck in the middle of a childish pushing game until you had enough and smack their arms to get them to stop.

"Okay, if you wanna room with me here, you both have to behave or else I'll swap myself with whoever's with Yunho," you told both of them sternly as you stood up to glare at the both of them who are still oh so comfortable on the bed.

Wooyoung smirked at you as he lifts his arms to rest behind his head as support, "damn, never thought my girlfriend can be so hot while nagging," he smugly said.

From the side, Mingi scoffed at Wooyoung's words, "FAKE girlfriend you mean," he said, emphasizing harshly on the word 'fake'. Wooyoung scoffed back at him, "No, REAL girlfriend as of today, we talked about it in the car," he then looked at you, asking for confirmation, "right, (Y/N)?"

Mingi's eyes bulged out at that, shocked to hear the information. He opened his mouth to question you but you raised a hand at him, signalling him to hold it so you can say your piece, "no we didn't Woo, YOU told me what you wanted and I didn't say anything else about the matter because who talks about that in a chat?" you said, rolling your eyes.

Now it was Mingi's turn to have a smug smirk thrown towards Wooyoung. The latter, on the other hand, pouted as he sat himself up. He pulled you close and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your belly to look up at you with puppy dog eyes, "but I was being sincere... I really did mean what I said and I'm not gonna take it back," his bottom lip jutted out as if to add more effect on his sadness.

You cooed at how adorable he looked, your right hand came forward to cup his cheek and your left hand move to push his hair away from his forehead that fell to his eyes.

Wooyoung was smiling happily at the affection you gave him, he even tightened his arms around you and puckered his lips, wordlessly asking for kisses from you.

Just as you leaned in to peck Wooyoung on his lips, Mingi cleared his throat loudly, making you snap your head at him. He was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, as if questioning you and what you're doing. You rolled your eyes at him and settle on giving Wooyoung a peck on his forehead.

"You know what, Woo, I'm willing to try the whole us being a real thing," you said. Wooyoung's eyes widened and a large smile broke out on his face. He was about to holler out in happiness just as Mingi jumped up into a sitting position, he was about to protest but you beat them both to the punch, "however, that doesn't mean I'm gonna be straight out your real girlfriend, alright? I need time to get used to the real you first," you continued.

Wooyoung groaned before detaching himself from you and letting his body drop back to the bed with a flop. Mingi on the other hand was snickering at Wooyoung, seemingly content with how things went with you two.

You moved to sit on Mingi's lap, which he welcomes by wrapping his own arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him so he could rest his chin on your shoulder. You giggled at Wooyoung's antics, thinking that for someone with his status around campus, he's pretty freaking adorable, "okay, come on, do we have a deal or not?" you asked, nudging his leg with your foot.

The nudged man sat up slightly and squint his eyes at you, "can I still touch you and stuff?" he asked. You were about to answer him when Mingi cut you off, "elaborate on 'stuff', please," he said, his own eyes squinting at Wooyoung.

A smirk bloom on Wooyoung's face, "well... Things boyfriends and girlfriends usually does," he said vaguely. Mingi furrowed his eyebrows at him, "but you both aren't boyfriend and girlfriend," "well technically we are," Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Mingi cursed under his breath, something along the line of "fucking technicalities,".

Their little banter made you somehow feel a little satisfied. Mingi's protectiveness over you and Wooyoung's persistence is really a sight to behold, it definitely brought a smile to your face.

"Okay, so then our whole 'fake' status is to be dissipated, from now on we are officially two people who are genuinely trying to get to know each other better in hopes that something could happen," you said, smiling at him. While Mingi rolled his eyes at this, Wooyoung grinned widely and proceed to pump his hands up in excitement.

"Which means you can no longer use my Yeosang collage as a blackmail material," you continued.

His eyes widened at that.

"What!?" He exclaimed before groaning, "fucking technicalities," he sighed, mumbling under his breath.

Despite his protest, you didn't care because you know things are about to get interesting from now on.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @rae-baby @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldog2 @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @sweetlikeh0n3y @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27

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raibebe · 4 years ago

Text

Love shot

Genre: Tooth rotting fluff Words: 8.590 Prompt: Hockey Player Jeno feat. best friend Jaemin, love letters? Warnings: none..?

A/N: This was written for @woahhwa for the @kafenetwork kafeholidays event! Hi Ru! I had so much fun talking to you when tumblr wasn’t eating my asks! I hope you liked this and it incorporates some of the things you said you liked. Also. Warning: I know absolutely nothing about hockey so please bear with me :] As always thank you to @burtonized for always listening to my rambles and telling me that my writing doesn’t suck. Also literally no one asked for me to put Johnny into this but I am a simple woman and miss him and his gorgeous hair. I am sorry for this horrible title...

The red numbers on the clock over the rink slowly counted down, the last minute of the game beginning. You had your hands tightly clutched together, sitting on the edge of the seat as you watched your home team in the orange and blue tricots trying to defend the last push of the opposing team. Mark Lee - on the defense - body checked the opposing wing player, who had been pushing forward, hardly into the banister, causing him to lose the puck. Quick on his feet like always, Ten snatched it from him and took a sharp turn to avoid the second wing player, using his smaller size to his advantage so he could push forward into the last third before the huge defender of the opposing team tackled him harshly. But like the genius player he was, Donghyuck had anticipated it, screaming Ten’s name at the top of his lungs so the elder had the time to pass the puck on to his wingplayer. Using his momentum from following Ten, Donghyuk pulled both of the opposing defenders towards him, leaving the star player of the team - Lee Jeno - free right in front of the goalie. A huge mistake. With a mischievous grin on his lips, Donghyuck waited until the very last second to pass the puck straight to Jeno who didn’t hesitate even for a second to take his shot: Hitting the puck with all his strength, he sent the rubber flying right past the goalie’s body, slamming into the net of the goal.

The crowd around you erupted in loud screams and cheers, everyone jumping up from their seats and celebrating the last minute goal as the red timer on the scoreboard ticked down to zero, the loud noise of a horn mixing with the cheers of the students. In the middle of all of this you were hugging your best friend, screaming loudly before turning back to look into the rink where the other boys had buried Lee Jeno beneath them, hockey sticks scattered around them. The other team had already angrily left the rink, collecting their stuff to make their way to the locker rooms when the boys finally let off and let their MVP breathe. Grinning broadly they took their helmets off one by one, shaking out their matted hair and just like after every game, the sight of Jeno’s midnight blue messy hair took your breath away. Once you could muster up the courage to talk to him, you wanted to ask if he had dyed it to match the color of their blue and orange jerseys. But even though you went to every single one of their home games and sometimes even went down to the rink to congratulate them, you had yet to speak more than three words with their handsome center forward player with the 23 on his back.

“Let’s go down to congratulate them, this was insane,” Jaemin said before already pulling you down the stairs against the tide of people that were already leaving. A couple of the player’s friends had already gathered at the rink, cheering them on and clapping them on their padded shoulders. You could make out the University’s heartthrob Johnny Suh - a volleyball player himself - fondly petting his best friend’s head which made Ten smile brighter than the harsh lights that illuminated the ice. A group of other boys from your year that you knew from a couple of your courses had rounded Donghyuck and Mark and looked like they were currently mocking the elder for his misplay that had led to the early goal of the opposing team, leaving their goalkeeper Yangyang almost no time to react. With a loud thud Jeno joined the circle, clinging to Mark’s back who cried out in pain from how hard the impact had been. The newest addition to the team, a tall freshman with the number 27 on his back, awkwardly shuffled on the ice before the team captain - Sicheng - pulled him over to where they were celebrating.

“Yooooo, boys this was sick!” Jaemin called out when he jumped down the last couple of steps before joining his friends who had stopped mocking Mark for a little while. But that wouldn’t be for long and you knew it. You had been their fan for quite some time now and knew that Donghyuck would not let Mark live and would bother him about it for a long time. “Watch your back, stupid,” you mumbled after your best friend who had been part of the team last year but had to quit playing for an undefined amount of time due to some issues with his back. He was the one who had originally gotten you into this sport which had led to your crush on Lee Jeno. So basically Na Jaemin was the reason you had the worst everlasting crush on a boy you barely knew and were way too shy to talk to even if he shared a ridiculous number of classes with you this year. But to Lee Jeno you must just be Jaemin’s weird friend he still knew from his childhood.

Slowly you approached the circle of boys, trying to hide as much of your face as possible in the bright orange scarf you had wrapped around your neck to shield yourself from the cold of the stadium. Jaemin was already retelling the highlights of the game in rapid-fire double time rapping speed, gesturing broadly and making the players laugh. “If you were to commentate the games they would probably be twice as fun to watch,” you spoke your mind when your best friend had to take a deep breath, making all of them stare at you which promptly lead to blood to rush to your face. “Yoooo, that would be such a good idea,” Mark broke the silence, his eyes wide, “Since you know all the rules and stuff.” “Also I wouldn’t be biased at all,” Jaemin just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he can’t just trash talk the other team during the whole game,” Sicheng threw in. “But it would be fun,” Yangyang mused. He had finally managed to get all of his extra protective gear off, his dark hair hanging into his eyes. “You should try it, Jaem,” Jeno also agreed. “I’d rather join you on the ice, you know,” your best friend mumbled, shooting the rink a longing gaze. “You’ll be back with us in no time once your back is healed,” Sicheng smiled, patting him on the shoulder with his still gloved hand, “Just give me a call and I’ll unlock the rink for you to make a couple of rounds.” “What am I, a short track athlete?” Jaemin grumbled but nodded his head anyways. He had been an amazing sprinter until he had exchanged the goggles and tight suits for heavy padding and a stick some time in high school.

“What’s this gloomy atmosphere? We won guys!” Ten shouted over from where he had been talking to Johnny and some other upperclassman, “Let’s get out of these uniforms and have some food to celebrate, Sicheng is paying.” “I am what?” The team captain protested but his complaints were lost in the cheers of the younger members of the team who quickly scrambled to get to the lockers to shower and change, their stomachs always bottomless holes after an intense game. “Let’s go home then,” Jaemin suggested, raking a hand through his caramel hair. You could tell he was still sad about not being able to be with his boys but he made an effort to hide his inner struggle. “Jaem!” A voice called you back when you turned to climb up the stairs and Lee Jeno skidded effortlessly over the ice to roughly collide with the side of the rink again. “You know you can join us, right?” A smile spread over your friend’s lips but he shook his head. “I can’t leave this one all to herself.” “The more the merrier,” Jeno just answered, looking you straight in the eye which lead to your heart missing a beat or two. He was covered in sweat and his hair was matted to his head, he should not have looked this attractive to you with his stupid half-moon eye smile and mole beneath his right eye. “I- I don’t want to mess up your all-boys time,” you tried to politely decline, scolding yourself for stuttering like this. You did not need to make an even bigger fool out of yourself. “It’s fine, really. Mark’s girlfriend is probably going to join us as well,” Jeno reassured you, “I’ll see you two outside!” He quickly added before crossing the rink again to disappear into the lockers, not leaving you two any more chance to decline.

“We’re not going to say no to a free meal, are we?” Jaemin grinned. “Wipe that grin off your face Nana,” you grumbled, scolding yourself for going for comfortable and warm clothes instead of pretty ones. What would Jeno think of you in your oversized blue hoodie and orange scarf? “Stop stressing, I can hear you thinking,” your friend whined, pulling you out of the by now empty stadium. “I look like a potato.” “No you don’t. You look fine. Jeno is not into the whole dolled up thing anyways.” Slapping his arm hard, you looked around if any of the players had already changed and overheard his comment. “You better keep your mouth shut, Na Jaemin or may god have mercy over you,” you hissed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he innocently blinked his eyes at you. “Na Jaemin, I swear to god. If you make me look like a fool in front of my crush that I should have never admitted to you, I WILL make you regret it.” “You don’t need me to make a fool out of yourself,” your best friend laughed, just barely dodging the punches you threw at him.

“Please be nice,” you whispered when the boys came out from the locker after a couple of minutes, their hair still damp from the shower they must have taken, their bags slung over their shoulders. Pictures of what a certain forward player must look like beneath his heavy padding and jersey flooded your mind for a second and you had to fight the heat that threatened to creep up on your cheeks. Mark’s girlfriend who had arrived a couple of minutes earlier and who you two had already told about the game, raced to fling herself into her boyfriend’s arms, giggling loudly when he almost toppled over from being thrown off balance. Somehow that image tugged at your heart and you wished that one day when you were finally not too shy to talk to Jeno, this could be the two of you.

Dinner was filled with a lot of loud laughter and just mildly annoyed waiters at the restaurant that had the best hot pot in town or so Sicheng claimed. But you really couldn’t even blame the poor waitress that had to deal with the hyped up hockey players. You mostly kept quiet, listening to their bickering and their stories. Donghyuck only retold how Mark had messed up in today’s game about three more times until he earned himself a rather hard slap to the back of his head from both Mark and Jeno. During the whole time you tried to steal secret glances at the forward player, admiring how fluffy his hair got after it had dried and how his glasses would fog up from the heat of the food until he took them off with an adorable but also really annoyed huff, stuffing them into the pocket of his neon green hoodie that should have looked ridiculous but he could pull it off. At this point you thought that he would look good in a plastic bag. God you really had it bad for him.

“Alright children, it’s bed time,” Ten exclaimed after everyone’s bellies were full, clapping his hands, “We should leave quickly so Sicheng can pay for the meal.” The team captain just sighed and leaned back in his seat while the others quickly shuffled around to sort out their bags and their jackets to hurry out of the restaurant, muttering words of thanks to Sicheng. You felt bad for him and lingered behind for a little before pressing a note into his hands that he declined with a little smile. “It’s fine,” he shook his head, handing the money back, “One mouth more or less doesn’t matter.” “Thank you for the meal, Sicheng,” you smiled. “Thank you for your support, you’re at every of our games, aren’t you?” Flustered you followed him to the register where a woman took his card to pay for the meal. “I try to make it. Jaemin doesn’t like going alone when he’s not allowed to play and I really enjoy watching you guys play. Your freshman really did so well.” “Sungchan is really talented,” Sicheng nodded, “He is such a great assent to the team and he compliments Jeno well. He’ll give Jaemin a run for his money when he comes back.” Smiling, you nodded. “I hope he’ll recover fast, he really misses you guys.” Taking his card back, Sicheng grimaced at the receipt. “We all miss him.”

Stepping outside in the cold, you were glad you had brought your thick jacket, your breath came out in little white clouds and Jaemin’s nose was already red. “I thought you’d never come back out, I am freezing over here,” he complained. Rolling your eyes at your roommate, you quickly said goodbye to Sicheng who once again told Jaemin to give him a call if he wanted to use the rink to skate for a while. On the way over to your apartment a little off of campus, you both kept quiet, each lost in your own thoughts. Even through your thick layers of clothing, the cold began seeping into your bones and you buried your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. But instead of the soft material of the inside of the pockets, your right hand came into contact with a neatly folded piece of paper. Confused you pulled it from your jacket and unfolded it. You didn’t remember stuffing that in there. In neat handwriting, a single sentence was written:

You look so pretty in blue.

What? You were so perplexed, you halted in your steps, staring at the piece of paper as if it would tell you what in the world was going on or how it had ended up in your pocket. Had one of the boys snuck the note into you jacket when they all had left before you and Sicheng? But why would any of them do that? What if... What if it had been Jeno? No, that couldn’t be. He was way out of your league and most definitely confident enough to tell you in person if he liked the honestly very much not special or pretty blue hoodie. “Hello? Earth to best friend?” Jaemin’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. He was standing a couple of steps in front of you, a questioning look on his features. “Did you just remember you left the stove on or something?” “N... No,” you muttered, shaking your head before shoving the note back into your pocket, catching up to Jaemin.

What you didn’t know was that would not be the last weird note you would find. The next one didn’t take long. You found it stuffed in your bag between your books on your second class of the day. Trying to not catch your friend’s attention so you wouldn’t have to explain the note, you carefully and secretly unfolded it to read the neatly written sentence.

You look great today, have a great start into the new week! Fighting!

Not unlike last time, you wondered who could have dropped the note into your bag. And when? Looking around the class you were currently in, your eyes caught on Lee Jeno’s midnight blue hair just a couple of seats in front of you. Had he been in your previous class as well? You couldn’t remember. But even if he had been, it was just wishful thinking that he had been the one to write the note. It was most likely a cruel joke someone was playing on you. Sighing you crumbled the piece of paper and focused back to what your professor was saying, trying to concentrate on taking notes instead of daydreaming while staring holes into Lee Jeno’s head like you had done way too often in this class. You weren’t very successful and when Jeno answered a question the professor had thrown at the class flawlessly, earning himself a couple of back pats from his friends that were seated around him, you couldn’t help but sigh. God, why did he have to be both smart and incredibly handsome? And on top of that a very talented hockey player.

A slap from your friend to your shoulder brought you back from your daydream to find the professor staring at you intensely. Shit. What had he asked? “Alright miss, I’d like a word with you after class. Now who can answer my question instead?” He spoke and you just wanted to ground to swallow you whole.

For the rest of the class you were just imagining all the worst case scenarios in your head of what the strict professor would scold you about. Would he make you do extra work for the class? Give you a bad grade all together? Or just humiliate you further? “Alright class, that will be it for today, you’re dismissed. Don’t forget to do the reading for next week and hand in your assignments on time,” the professor dismissed the class, immediately finding your eyes to nod his head sharply to indicate he hadn’t forget about you zoning out.

Discouraged after the scolding you had gotten from your professor about dozing off in his classes, you climbed the stairs to your seat to pack your stuff to go hide in your room until everyone would have forgotten how embarrassing the whole situation had been, especially Lee Jeno and his friends. But yet again another note was placed right on top of your notebook, seemingly written in a haste and carelessly ripped out of its original page.

Don’t take it to heart, it could have happened to anyone. Cheer up!

Okay maybe the someone who was writing you these notes actually wasn’t playing jokes on you and actually cared about you. You’d be lying if the few words hadn’t made you feel any better.

Over the next few weeks you found more and more notes. Some longer than others, some just a few hastily written words. Some were just a quick cheer up to help you get through a long day of class, some compliments about your outfit or your hair and some even little stories about the day of your admirer. Somehow you felt like you got to know him a little through his little messages. You even dared to say you looked forward to finding more and more notes.

One time your secret admirer even left you a coffee on your table at the library when you had gotten up from your seat to get more books to look up some information for the essay you were trying to finish. When you got back to your seat, you looked around quickly to see if the admirer was still around. But you only saw more students perched over books or their laptops, typing away. Just when you were about to get back to your own project, a white hoodie caught your eye between the dull lighting and brown colors of the library. Below a mop of blue hair, Lee Jeno shortly smiled at you from behind his glasses, toasting towards you with his own cup of coffee and you couldn’t help but notice that it was from the same shop the steaming cup in front of you was from. Picking it up, you toasted back and took a small sip to not completely burn your tongue before examining the cup which just said your name with a little heart on it. It could have been just a coincidence that Jeno chose to get coffee from the same place your admirer had. The shop was just a few meters from the library after all but the way Jeno had smiled at you, not his usual bright smile but something maybe a little more shy, made you believe it could actually have been him and you really hoped that he actually was.

But today you hadn’t found a single note from your admirer and for some reason that was really bothering you. He had managed to sneak you at least a little note every day for a while now. And you still hadn’t figured out how he did it. Or when. You didn’t leave your bag or jackets unattended for long periods of time and it seriously baffled by how sneaky he must be.

“Stop staring holes into the air and get back to work,” your coworker Yuta scolded you, clapping a hand on your back on his way past you. “I’m sorry, I was lost in my head,” you apologized but he just shrugged his shoulders as he collected the mugs a group of students had left behind. “Exams?” He asked as he came back, putting the mugs into the sink. “Something like that,” you lied. You really didn’t know the upperclassman well enough to vent to him about how someone you didn’t even knew who they were send you secret messages and somehow they hadn’t done it today yet. Before Yuta could ask any further questions, the bell on the door jingled happily, announcing the arrival of a new set of customers. “I’ll go, bring those to the back,” your coworker instructed you. Sighing, you bunched up your sleeves to stack up all the dishes that had been piling up in the front during the time Yuta and you had been too busy with orders to put them in the big dishwasher in the kitchen.

With a couple of freshly washed cups and plates you emerged back into the main room to see Yuta flirting with the group of girls that had just come in to probably order some way too overpriced season special with more sugar than actual coffee in it. Of course only after they had been completely charmed by the objectively speaking very pretty foreigner with a silver tongue. Rolling your eyes at the group, you instead made your way to where the customers were sitting to check if anyone new had come in while you were in the back. After most classes were over for the day, the cozy café usually filled up with students pretty fast; either to relax for a little before going to the library or to discuss group projects.

Today was no different and you easily spotted a group of boys from one of your courses squished together in one of the booths, your best friend smiling brightly at you when he saw you approach. “My favorite waitress is working,” he spoke, awkwardly hugging your waist from his sitting position. “You just want my employee discount,” you fondly rolled your eyes at a now pouting Jaemin, “So what can I get you.” You quickly collected all the boy’s orders including Jaemin’s horrendous deathpresso. “Oh, add another iced Americano, someone is still missing,” Donghyuck called after you when you had confirmed their orders, a knowing smirk on his lips. Quickly scribbling another one on your little notepad, you didn’t look where you were going and suddenly collided with a very solid chest and you were pretty sure you would have fallen if it was not for the customer’s quick reflexes. So instead of on the floor, you found yourself pressed against his chest, his perfume clouding your senses. “Careful where you’re going,” he said and you could already tell that your eyes would meet ones with the color of molten amber, hidden behind a cute pair of round glasses, before you even looked up to see Lee Jeno’s smile. “You... You too,” you stuttered, feeling your face heat up, quickly scrambling back a step. “Are you alright?” He asked, looking you up and down once. “Yeah, I was just taking your orders, I’ll be right back,” you tried to smile while trying to tell your heart to stop beating like you had just ran a marathon. “I’ll help you carry, we’re quite a few people.” “No, it’s fine really,” you quickly declined, “This is my job after all. “I feel bad for running into you though, let me help,” Jeno insisted, a slight pout on his lips that you really could not resist. When you ended up nodding, his whole face lit up with his famous eye smile and your insides might have just melted a little. While he was quickly putting his bag down and greeting his friends, you busied yourself with the orders. Yuta was still no help whatsoever, telling one of the girls an obnoxious story of how he had ended up at a university in Korea. You barely held back your laugh when the girls gasped, their eyes glued to Yuta. The story might have been impressive to you if you hadn’t heard it about 30 times already, always a little different but always pretty far from the actual truth.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Jeno ripped your attention from your coworker when he leaned against the counter to watch you work the big coffee machine. “I was working in a different shop a little off campus before,” you smiled, focusing on pouring the milk into one of the cups of coffee to form a pretty picture. “You’re really good at making them look pretty,” Jeno complimented you, his cheeks tinted a rosy color. “It’s just practice,” you mumbled, hiding your own shyness behind the counter to quickly grab the cake slices the boys had ordered. An awkward silence hung over the two of you while you worked on finishing the other drink orders (it always took a ridiculous amount of time to make Jaemin’s) and your brain ran on overdrive trying to come up with a topic to talk to Jeno to fill up the silence while willing your hands to not shake and make a fool out of yourself in front of him.

“Do... Do you work between classes?” You chose to ask in the end, scolding yourself immediately for asking what must be the most lame, basic question ever. “I hardly have time between classes and practice,” Jeno explained nonetheless, scrunching his nose adorably to push up his glasses,” I’m here on a scholarship so I have to show results in hockey or I’ll be out.” “Ooh, I didn’t know that. But you’re really good so it shouldn’t be a surprise,” you spoke your mind before you could think about the words but as soon as it registered, your face immediately was heating up. Jeno just laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “I’m not bad I guess. It’s just a lot of practice, it’s nothing special,” he mirrored the words you had said earlier, an easy smile on his lips. “Even I can see you have an unfair amount of talent for hockey, Jeno.” At that he barked out a short laugh. “You should have seen me when I stood on the ice for the first time, I couldn’t even skate in a straight line without falling on my ass, no idea what the scouts saw in me when they talked to my mum to recruit me.” “I bet you’re just being modest,” you argued. “I am not I swear,” he laughed, “I was really bad but I trained a lot so I could make the team. I’m not like Donghyuck who can just skip half of practice because he’s hungover. I have to work for it.” “That makes it even more admirable,” you mumbled, not able to look him in the eye when you spoke the words even though you meant them with all your heart. “Th- Thank you,” Jeno stuttered and when you looked up at his face again, you could see that his ears were bright red. “I mean it,” you smiled and when he finally met your eyes you couldn’t help but get lost in his for a while.

“And you tell me to stop flirting with customers,” Yuta broke whatever moment you just had with Jeno and shoved you from the spot on the coffee machine. “I wasn’t,” you tried to argue but your colleague just clocked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I... I wouldn’t mind if you were,” Jeno mumbled so quietly you had almost missed it, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and a smile to creep onto your lips again. “We should bring the drinks over,” you smiled, grabbing the tray that held the drinks so Jeno could take the one with the cakes. “Ye... Yeah, orders, drinks, sure,” he stuttered, grabbing the second tray and following you through the café back over to where his friends were seated. “I thought you would never come back,” Jaemin already whined, grabbing his deathpresso off of your tray. “It takes a while to make eight freaking extra shots of espresso,” you scolded your best friend while giving out the rest of the orders to the other boys who all agreed, joining in on telling Jaemin how unhealthy his coffee drinking habits were. “Let me know if you need anything else,” you smiled politely when everyone had gotten their respective drinks, leaving the boys to banter playfully.

Over the course of your shift, the boys stayed to study and ordered another round of hot drinks before they left just shy of the ending of your shift. Jeno threw you another shy smile and a little sweater pawed wave when they left the shop that almost send you into cardiac arrest. “I’ll clean that table and then head out,” you announced to Yuta who was glued to his phone, checking his twitter feed. Among the chaos of used napkins and dishes, you found a neatly folded piece of paper with your name neatly written on it, a little heart drawn in the corner that set you own one racing again. You quickly put it in your pocket and cleared the rest of the table, all but throwing the dishes into the dishwasher at the back so you could get out of your apron and take a look at the note your secret admirer had left. While you were changing into your warm jacket, you couldn’t help but to think and to hope that Jeno had left it for you. After all he had been at both the gatherings that had led to you finding these notes and he also shared lot of classes with you where he could technically have slipped you a note or two. And on top of that he had also been at the library when the coffee incident happened.

Once you stepped out of the café and into the cool air of the early evening, you sat down on one of the benches surrounding the building to read the little note in peace.

You look so cute when you’re concentrating on making pretty latte art, did you know that? I loved the little talk we had but I am too shy to talk to you. Can you tell by these notes? My friends all make fun of me for writing cheesy notes instead of manning up to actually talk to you. I don’t even know if you would want to meet me. But if you want to, then meet me at the ice rink tomorrow at 7pm. I’ll be waiting for you there, I promise.

You couldn’t hold in the little shriek of joy that made its way past your lips. It had to be Jeno. It couldn’t be anyone else. It had to be him. Holding the little note close to your furiously beating heart, you smiled and kicked your legs in joy before storing it carefully into your bag. Jaemin better be ready to help you choose an outfit for tomorrow and listen to you whine without asking too many questions about who you were actually going to meet.

When you arrived at the stadium the next day, clutching the note tightly in your hand, you double checked the time and carefully looked around before you tried to open the front door which to your surprise was actually unlocked. Taking a deep breath, you went in, closing the door firmly behind you before walking up to the second door that would take you to the bleachers. Slowly you pulled it open as well, hoping it wouldn’t make too much noise. The rink itself was just dimly lit, most of the lights turned off and on the ice there was a single figure skating around the perimeter, seemingly lost in their thoughts while aimlessly taking sharp turns that send pieces of ice flying, making the skids screech. You would have recognized that person between hundreds of other skaters, the midnight blue hair easily giving him away.

Jeno seemingly hadn’t noticed you yet and it gave you time to sort out your racing heart and thoughts. Had it really been him to write you all the sweet notes that you had begun to collect in a little box you hid from Jaemin in a box beneath your bed? Or was the universe playing a prank on you and it was just a coincidence that he was practicing right now, alone at night. But then again no one else was around and he really wasn’t dressed for practice, just wearing one of his big hoodies and jeans. It had to be his notes. And thinking back on it, he really had been the only person who had been at the same places, the notes had been showing up. From the dinner with the hockey team to the ones in your classes and at your work or in the library.

Slowly you made your way down the steps of the bleachers, keeping quiet so you wouldn’t disturb Jeno who was still skating around the rink. Once you arrived at the bottom row of seats, you took a seat next to a pair of skates and a pair of sneakers that probably belonged to Jeno. Sitting in silence, you watched his movements for a while. He was captivating to watch: Seeing him effortlessly glide over the ice before suddenly sprinting forward only to come to an abrupt halt or take a sharp turn. It was beyond you how he held his balance through it all.

Suddenly he halted in his moves completely to stare at the big clock on the back wall of the stadium that showed that it was fifteen minutes past seven already before he sighed deeply, raking a hand through his fluffy hair. Was he nervous? Nervous you wouldn’t come? Just when he was taking off, his eyes caught your figure and he stopped again, a big smile spreading across his face that made his eyes curl into the beautiful half-moon shape you adored. While you were busy trying to remember how to breathe, he was skating towards you, effortlessly jumping from the ice through a little door in the rink, walking towards you. “You came,” he beamed, kneeling down in front of you after he had grabbed the skates that were still lying next to you. “Yeah I did,” you answered, still not entirely sure what to make of this situation. With how fast your heart was beating, it must have climbed all the way up to your throat and you weren’t sure if you could have produced a proper sentence if you wanted to.

“I hope I didn’t misinterpret all of this,” Jeno mumbled while he carefully undid your shoelaces before slipping them off your feet, “And you’re just here to tell me to stop being creepy and not leave any more notes around.” The way he looked up at you from beneath his midnight blue bangs tugged at your heart and you couldn’t find any words to tell him just how okay you were with this, so you just nodded, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, the skin feeling way too hot against the cold of the stadium. Smiling brightly Jeno quickly prepared the skates to slip onto your feet and laced them up tightly, his nimble fingers working fast and efficient. “Is this alright? Not too tight?” “Seems fine,” you smiled back at him, experimentally wiggling your toes. “Alright,” Jeno smiled, extending a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go.”

Shyly, you took his hand to let him pull you upright. On wobbly feet, you followed him to the little door in the rink, letting him step onto the ice first. “I’ve never done this before,” you confessed, almost reflexive reaching your gloved hands out towards him which he took with a gentle smile, squeezing them reassuringly. “I won’t let you fall,” he promised, tightening the grip on your hands. “Okay,” you whispered, carefully stepping onto the slippery ice, unsure how to work with the skates. “You’re a natural,” Jeno beamed when you finally stood with both feet on the ice. “I- I don’t know,” you shied away from the praise, wishing you could hide in your big scarf. “Hold on tightly now,” the hockey player warned before he skillfully moved his legs so he was sliding backwards, effectively pulling you with him. A little surprised sound escaped your lips and you clutched his hands tightly, worrying your gaze to your feet where you tried to stabilize yourself and keeping the skids up right.

“Don’t think so much about it. Look at me,” Jeno’s voice cut through the soft scratching noises of the skates. “I’ll fall if I do,” you argued. Also your heart would most likely leap out of your chest if you did. As if it wasn’t already beating furiously enough now that you were basically on a date with your crush and he was holding your hands. “I told you that I won’t let you fall,” he promised, slowing down his own movements until you came to a halt. Steadying yourself on the skates, you took a deep breath before looking up to meet Jeno’s eyes. And just like that time stood still. Under the dimmed lights in the stadium, it felt like you two were the only people on this planet. You got lost in the deep brown shade of his eyes and adored how his nose and cheeks were tinted a pretty blush color from the cold. “Hey there,” he whispered, tucking your scarf neatly around your neck where it had come undone, the gesture so intimate, it made your breath hitch. “Hi,” you answered dumbly and it made him smile, his eyes curving into the beautiful half-moon eye smile.

Before you could do anything stupid like coo hat how pretty he looked, his smile turned into a mischievous grin and he quickly let go of your hands to skid backwards a couple of meters further towards the center of the rink. “Jenoooo,” you whined once you had found your balance again, glaring to where he was making a couple of sharp turns, creating indents in the smooth ice and sending pieces flying. “Come over,” he called, opening his arms wide. “You just want to see me fall.” “You won’t, have some faith in yourself. Just kick with your skates until you gain momentum. It’s like walking just with a little more glide.” “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” “Just try it. For me,” Jeno smiled, sliding a little closer to you and opening his arms again. Sighing, you nodded, balling your hands into fists before you kicked your feet just how you had seen Jeno and the other’s do a hundred times before. Albeit very wobbly and slow, you were sliding over the ice. A smile slowly spread over your face as you kicked your feet again and again and you weren’t even mad when you noticed that Jeno steadily moved backwards to keep you going. “See, you’re a natural,” he beamed but just when he said that, you stumbled over one of the indents he had created earlier when he was showing off. You already prepared yourself to meet the cold unforgiving ice, making a complete fool out of yourself but instead two strong arms curled around you to pull you against a strong chest so you were stabilized again.

“I told you, I wouldn’t let you fall,” Jeno whispered, his hands steady on your waist. “Thank you,” you mumbled, slowly snaking your arms around him as well until your bodies were flush together. For a while you just stood on the ice, hugging each other until your breaths evened out, hearts beating in the same rhythm. “I’m so glad you actually came.” “Why wouldn’t I?” You mumbled into his neck. “Maybe you thought all my notes were creepy.” “I was really confused at first,” you admitted, “I thought it was a joke. I couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would write these to me. I was waiting for someone to bring up the topic so they could make fun of me. But deep down I really wished it was you who was writing them and that you actually meant everything you wrote.” The longer you spoke, the more you felt your face heat up. “I wish I had more courage to actually ask you out properly,” Jeno confessed, his voice quiet, “I kept seeing you around Jaemin and then you started to come to our matches. And then we ended up in so many of the same courses and guess what you’re not only very pretty but also incredibly smart. And I guess I kind of developed this huge crush on you with your big scarves and hoodies.” “Me... Me too, Jeno,” you whispered, your heart making summersaults in your chest and a smile spreading on your lips. Beneath your fingers you could feel Jeno chuckle. “Will you let me kiss you?” He asked softly and who were you to deny him?

Slowly you lifted your head from his shoulder and he carefully cupped your face before he leaned in to kiss you until your noses were touching. His bangs were tickling your face but you wouldn’t have wanted to have it any other way and crossed the last few centimeters between you to press your lips against his slightly chapped ones. Like you had all time in the world you just stood on the ice, lazily moving your lips together only ever separating to heave in a couple of breathes of air and share a soft giggle before claiming each other’s lips again with hearts beating like one.

Eventually Jeno pulled back when you leaned in to kiss him again, a big smile on his lips when you pouted. “You’ll get another one when you manage to skate a whole round in the rink,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “You’re the worst Lee Jeno,” you kept pouting, “You’re hurting yourself just as much as me.” “Come on, it’s going to be fun,” he smiled, snaking free from your grip to skate around you in quick motions. “Show off,” you mumbled underneath your breath but tried your best to copy his movements to fulfill his quest.

In the end he had been right, once you got the hang of it and didn’t lose your balance every time there was a dent in the ice, it actually as fun to chase each other around the rink even though you knew he was purposefully letting you catch up to him at times to steal more kisses. It still somehow didn’t feel real that you actually were here with Lee Jeno and that you were actually allowed to kiss him just like this. After what felt like hours, Jeno helped you out of your skates and you just sat on the bleachers cuddled up together beneath a blanket, looking down at the rink. “Are you going to see the match tomorrow?” He asked. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?” Jeno just hummed, a blush creeping up his cheeks and ears, this one definitely not from the cold. What was making him shy all of a sudden? “Would you... I mean... If you wanted to... Would you,” he stuttered before he groaned loudly and grabbed your hands tightly, “Willyouwearmyjackettothegame?” “What?” “My jacket... Would you wear it tomorrow?” He asked again, slower this time but still not meeting your eyes, instead looking at your interlocked hands. “Do you want me to?” You asked him back, a big smile on your lips. “I mean... I understand if this is a little fast but... But I’ve had this crush on you for the longest time and... And I would really like to show everyone that you’re you know...” “That I’m your girlfriend?” “Y... Yeah,” he admitted, shyly looking at you from beneath his midnight blue bangs. “Of course I will,” you smiled broadly, throwing your arms around him to hug him close.

And you did. After you and Jeno had talked for a little while longer about everything and nothing at all (and maybe some more kissing) until you had yawned more than he found acceptable, he had quickly run to the locker rooms to fetch his jacket that he had promptly laid over your shoulders on your way home. In front of your apartment building he had kissed you goodbye and wished you sweet dreams before he walked away to his own dorm room that he shared with Donghyuck so you had found out. You turned the key as silently as you could so you wouldn’t wake up your best friend who was out cold on the small sofa in your living room, the Netflix ‘Are you still watching?’ screen illuminating the room. Shaking your head, you draped a blanket over the sleeping boy and turned the TV off before getting ready for bed as well. The next morning you had to explain why you had Jeno’s jacket to a screaming Jaemin at an ungodly hour but in the end he was just excited as you were if not more because he didn’t have to hear both of you pining anymore because he had promised Jeno not to meddle.

You slipped into Jeno’s big jacket when you and your friend where about to leave so you wouldn’t be late to the match, you couldn’t help but smile, snuggling deep into the collar until your boyfriend’s smell engulfed you like a blanket. “Stop being gross or the best seats will be taken,” your best friend complained, tugging you with him and filling the way over to the stadium with chatter. “There are so many people,” you exclaimed when you had entered the stadium, looking around for free seats. “It’s the highlight of the season, what did you expect?” Jaemin asked, tugging you further down when he spotted Mark’s girlfriend waving excitedly at your two. She also was wearing a jacket with the name ‘Lee’ on the back just that hers had a big blue 2 on the back and not a 23 like yours. “You and Jeno?” She excitedly jumped up and down when she had spotted your jacket and you could only nod shyly. “I’m so happy for you. Mark told me how Jeno kept pining after you.”

“What’s with all the Lees over here?” A male voice cut in before you could answer anything and Johnny Suh sat down next to Jaemin, not clad in his usual dark red jacket with his name and the 9 on the back but in a rather small orange one with a giant blue 10 on the back. “You’ll fit right in,” Mark’s girlfriend chirped, making Johnny blush and hide his face in his knitted scarf, mumbling something about how stupid it was that it had to be so cold to play hockey and how much rather he’d be in his heated gym. “The joy of dating Korean guys,” Jaemin laughed, jumping up and climbing in a seat the row above you, “Let me take a picture, this is hilarious.” “Ten and Mark aren’t even Korean,” Johnny argued, “But Leechaiyapornkul would have been a bit excessive to put on a jacket.”

The rest of his argument was drowned out by the cheers that erupted when the players came from their lockers, the starting 6 quickly rounding the rink, making a couple of sharp turns and going through moves with their stick. Being their center forward player, Jeno was in the starting team along with Sungchan and Donghyuck. On the defense, Winwin and Mark were checking their gear before the captain made sure that all of Yangyang’s protective gear was on right. In the meantime Jeno was searching the bleachers and you couldn’t help but feel shy before you waved at him, jumping up and down so he would notice you. Because of the helmet you couldn’t know if he smiled at you but your heart made summersaults nonetheless when you playfully put on the hood of the jacket to show him that you were indeed wearing it. You imagined him laughing before he blew you a kiss with an over exaggerated movement that made quite a few people turn their heads to see who he could have blown the kiss to. Before you could even think about hiding, Johnny gripped your arm tightly and hissed: “If I am out here wearing Ten’s stupid jacket that is way too small for me while he refuses to wear mine in public because he’s not some trophy wife, you will not hide now.” Not knowing whether you should be afraid of Johnny or laugh at what really sounded like something Ten would say, you just nodded at the blonde, straightening out your back. From the opposite side you could see Ten sitting in the exchange box, a huge grin on his face when he must have spotted Johnny in the crowd (which really wasn’t that hard, the dude was unnecessarily tall).

“They better win this game or I will be mad,” the blonde grumbled when everyone had sat back down and the referee had called both team captains over. “It’s going to be a tight game,” Jaemin filled him in, “The gorillas have been on a roll for the past couple of games. But I have the feeling that a couple of players might just try extra hard today, trying to show off.” At the end, he threw both Johnny and you a very over exaggerated look completed with wiggling eyebrows which earned him slaps from both of you. “Now shut your mouth, Na Jaemin, I actually want to see this game.” “Wow she gets a hot hockey player as her boyfriend and suddenly she doesn’t need my top notch commentating anymore, that hurts.” “Shut up, Nana,” you smiled, focusing back to where in fact your boyfriend was playing on the ice just now. And even if you loved to see Jeno playing, you couldn’t wait for the game to be over to be back in his arms to congratulate him.

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness…

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey...

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming.

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already!

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #thank y'all so so much #you're fantastic

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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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muichiroslover · 3 years ago

Text

Part 1 to this story ☜︎

Kisaki waited impatiently as he stood at the entrance to the Festival, he got there around 5:40 and now it was 5:56 and it’s felt like hours

He put his hand to his forehead as he recalled what happened before he left for this stupid festival

“What?! You’re actually going to the festival with her??” Hanma laughs as he laid sprawled over a few crates

Kisaki gritted his teeth as he sighed annoyed

“If I said no then i would have my cover blown, I need her to trust me and fall in love so I can eventually take over g/n” he says sighing and Hanma just laughs

“Yeah well, good luck with that!” He says amused and Kisaki sighed annoyed once more

He looked at his watch again, it was 6:01

“And the woman was yelling my ear off about not being late” he muttered clicking his tongue before he heard the call of his name

He looked up and his eyes widened slightly as you rushed over holding your Yakuta

“Kisaki! Sorry am I late? It was kind of hard getting this on..” you laugh nervously

He looked at your and for some reason his face felt hot as he sighed and looked away

“Whatever, let’s just go” he says and you beam at him as you grab his hand

“Do you like my outfit?” You ask and he looks at you again before looking away “it’s fine I guess” he says and you beam at him once more before looking around

You and Kisaki ended up doing all kinds of things from catching fishes to throwing balls at bottles to win prizes

Right now you were at the fish station for your 35th try at getting a fish

“You...really suck at this..” Kisaki says as he watched your net break once again, you groan as you get up

“Man I really wanted one of those fishes..” you say dejected and he sighs as he pays for one net, he crouches down and in a swift motion he gets a fish into his cup

You gasp as the guy gives him a bag of water and he puts the fish in and gives it to you, you grin at him brightly as you grab the bag and hug him

You hold him tightly and place a haste kiss to his cheek, making the boy blush as you let go

“Thanks Ki! I l-“ you begin and smile wider

“I love you so much!” You say grinning at him widely and he blushes as he looks off to the side

“No problem..” he mutters and you guys continued through the festival till it was late, he dropped you off back home and you gave him another kiss on the cheek

“Thanks for tonight Ki, I really enjoyed it” you say and he rubs his neck embarrassed acting annoyed

“Yeah I had fun too, goodnight...love you..” he mutters the last part and the grin on your face couldn’t stop itself

“Really?!” You beam and he sighs annoyed

“Yeah yeah get inside” he says and you laugh lightly as you begin to go up the stairs you turn and smile at him

“I’m glad you do, that makes me really happy” and with that you headed up to your house, Kisaki sighed as he headed back to the place him and Hanma were sharing

He opened the door and threw off his shoes to see Hanma laying lazily on the couch on his phone, he looked at at Kisaki

“Fun night?” He asks amused and Kisaki flips him off

“Change of plans” Kisaki says and Hanma sits up “oh?”

“I’ll just keep her by my side as I take over Japan, it’s just easier that way..” he says and Hanma laughs

“Aw man!! You’re totally whipped for her!” He laughs and Kisaki clicks his tongue as your face continues to pop up in his head, a blush forming on his cheek

“Whatever..”

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

You closed the door to your apartment as you changed out of your Yakuta and you grabbed your toothbrush as you brushed your teeth

You gagged into the water before brushing your teeth once more and looking up at yourself in the mirror

You looked away and headed to your room to go to sleep

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

Kisaki came over the next day per request you telling him you absolutely needed him to come over for something important

He knocked on your door and you opened it close to immediately

“Hi!” You say grinning and he looks away already blushing

“Hey..I brought snacks” he says holding up a bag and you smile

“Great! Come in come in” you say stepping to the side and he takes off his shoes as he steps in, you grab the bag from him as you lead him to the kitchen

“I told you I’d cook for you!” You say happily and he looked at the food astonished

“Today we’ll be having rice with vegetables with a side of fish!” You beam and he sits down as you pull the seat out for him

You sit down as well and you guys begin eating

“By the way, thanks for the fish my little sister adored it! She really loves marine life and such that’s why I wanted one so badly..” you say a little embarrassed and he nods

“No problem, glad she liked it” he says and you grin as you stab into the fish

“Well lets split it” you say and begin cutting the fish into bite sizes and splitting it evenly

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Kisaki kept dating, it had been a few months and your members began to gradually accept him and Hanma, but they were still on guard around them, but seeing you laugh and smile made them keep up the facade

But there were a few people who didn’t exactly agree with this

“Y/N GET IT TOGETHER, DO YOU REALLY THINK OUT OF EVERYONE BAJI WOULD WANT YOU WITH HIM?!” Mikey shouted at you

“MIKEY LEAVE ME ALONE I KNOW WHAT IM DOING” you shout as you walk to your bedroom door but it gets blocked, you looked up at Mitsuya who was looking at you with such sad eyes

“Please Y/n, please don’t do this, just break up-“ he begins

“NO I WONT, I WONT I WONT” you shout as tears started brimming your eyes

Draken sat on your couch rubbing his temples as he got up

“This is obviously not working, let’s just go” he says, but you could see the anger and disappointment in his eyes as he opened your front door and left, Mikey following after

Mitsuya slowly walked to the door and looked back at you who was looking at him as tears fell down your cheeks, he looked on the verge of crying as well

“Y/n...I hope you know what your doing by staying with him..” and with that he left and closed the door behind himself

You watched the door as you fell onto your knees and sobbed

“I’m so so sorry” you whispered into the air of your empty house

You closed your eyes as you tried to think of fond memories

Flashback

“Y/n! Y/n!” Baji shouts as he runs into your room with a huge grin, you look over from your book at the little Baji

Being an only child you really didn’t play much so that left you with hobbies like reading and calligraphy

“What?” You say

“I learned this super cool move from Mikey, wanna see?” He asks and you sigh as you close your book and put your undivided attention onto Baji, just how he liked it

“Sure” you say and he grins as he takes in a deep breath

He ended up trying to do a 360 kick and hit his foot on the table in your room, he started crying

You sighed as you jumped off your bed and leaned down to the Baji who was trying to hide his face from you

“I didn’t even see what happened, I promise” you say as you grab your headband and wrap it around his ankle

He sniffled

“You didn’t see me mess up?” He asks and you shake your head “nope” you say as you finish the wrap

“So keep practicing so you can show me for the first time” you say looking up at him and smiling, he smiles back at you baring his fangs and gets up

“Just watch y/n! I’m gonna show you the best kick out there!” He says and you nod as he runs out, you laugh lightly as you get back onto your bed and pick up your book

“Stupid Baji..” you say

Your sobs got harsher as the memory finished in your head, life really was unfair for you

#tokyo revengers baji #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers angry #tokyo revengers smiley #tokyo revengers chifuyu #tok rev #tokrev baji #fiction #imagines #romance #scenarios #fluff #writing #angst #baji x reader #tokyo revengers kisaki #tokyo revengers mitsuya

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deiliamedlini · 3 years ago

Text

Slipping on Ice

Summary: Link is forced to take his little sister Aryll ice skating at 7am, and they suddenly have to share the rink.

~Modern Zelink AU ~

Word count: 4644

Or read on Ao3!

“Link, you missed the turn!”

Aryll sat forward from the backseat and tried to point frantically at the road, only for the seatbelt to lock and send her backwards. There were several loud clicks, and she closed her eyes in defeat before Link could say a single smart word, because now she was stuck with the seatbelt completely trapping her.

“Can I fix my seatbelt?”

“No. We’re almost there. Suck it up.”

“You’re mean!” she groaned, leaning her head on the window.

Link glanced at her in the rearview mirror before making a U turn into the near-empty parking lot.

He leaned his head back against the hard headrest and closed his eyes, wishing he hadn’t promised his mother that he’d do anything if she let him go to a party over the weekend. He was 18, he shouldn’t even need to ask permission anymore.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!!” Aryll chanted, shaking the driver’s seat with her little hands.

“One day, Aryll, you’ll actually want to sleep in, and then I’ll wake you up to drag you somewhere stupid.”

“Nowhere is stupid!” she countered, whipping her door open and leaning against the window to eerily peer at him.

Glancing at the clock, he rolled his eyes. It was 6:58am and here he was spending the first day of his week-long vacation taking Aryll ice-skating. He double checked his wallet to make sure the 30 rupees his mother had given him were still there and then reluctantly dragged himself from the car.

Aryll was bursting with excitement, bouncing up and down as her plush coat swished with every excited move she made. She pulled her gloves from her pocket—her favorites that had seagulls on them despite the cold—and fiddled to get her fingers in as she stared into the glass door, waiting for whoever to unlock the doors.

Link, on the other hand, was miserable. He was so tired. He wasn’t one of those people who could function with a coffee and just 4 hours of sleep, so he closed his eyes for the next two minutes while leaning against the metal handrail. It didn’t feel cold; everything was cold. Why Aryll wanted to go to an indoor ice rink was beyond him, but he didn’t really care whether it was indoor, outdoor, or on the moon: he didn’t want to go.

“Fix your hat, Link,” she said to him, tapping on her own. She made a twisting motion.

Feeling for the emblem of the Rito Fliers on his knit hat, he pulled it off and retied his sloppily thrown-in ponytail before returning the hat so that the emblem was back in the center.

Finally, the employee came up to the door and stared at Link with equally weary eyes. Link didn’t recognize him, but honestly, he could have been at the party too, given his age and his general disposition that seemed ready to just die a little bit.

He let out a heavy sigh and unlocked the door.

Aryll didn’t even give him enough time to get out of the way before she’d accosted him.

“Hi! One adult and one child please! And we’ll need to rent skates!”

“I’m not skating,” Link muttered, grabbing the rupees. If he could avoid the skate rental and the admission fee, he could pocket the rest of the rupees.

Aryll glared at him as though he’d just told her that he’d killed her best friend. “You’re skating with me, or I’ll tell mom and dad that you didn’t. I’ll call them right now!”

Grimacing, Link handed over the rest of the rupees and told the man their sizes before turning toward Aryll’s smug expression. “No one wants to be friends with a dirty rat, you know.”

“I’m not dirty. And I haven’t told anyone yet, so I’m not technically a rat either.”

“No one wants to be friends with a smart mouth.”

“At least I’m smart.”

He made a face and leaned heavily against the counter until the guy returned with their skates. Link took them while Aryll bolted through the doors and into the rink.

It was freezing.

The chill hadn’t been enough to wake him up, but it was enough to make him a bit more alert. He looked around the deserted room, his footsteps echoing in the silence and making him more self-conscious than he already was about being here. What if Mipha saw him here? Would she laugh at him for his inability to skate? Would she make fun of him for spending the first day of his vacation with his little sister? Would she even notice he was there?

Not that any of that mattered. Mipha was dating Revali.

It was just a crush. On the most popular girl in school. Who was also gorgeous. But he’d never even said three words to her, so why would she care if he was here anyway?

“Hey! Link! Come on! Give me my skates!”

Shaking his head to snap himself out of it, he descended the stairs and tossed Aryll’s skates in front of her.

“Rude.”

“That’s for making me actually skate and blackmailing me.”

“I’ve seen you skate, Link. If you can even call it skating. It’s more like shuffling.”

“Shut up.”

Aryll grinned while she slid into her skates, testing them out before heading to the door onto the ice.

“Hey, wait!” Link called, gesturing to the spot in front of him.

“What?”

Link set his shoes down and knelt on the ground. “Put your foot up. It’s like mom never taught you to tie shoes.”

Groaning, Aryll threw her head back and set her skate against Link’s leg so he could retie it. The force that he pulled at the strings had her jerking back in surprise, and nearly toppling over, but she kept her balance and watched Link as he knotted the laces a few times. Admittedly, it did feel like a better fit when he was done.

“Other one.”

He shook his head as he pulled the loose strings. “Honestly, I thought you knew what you were doing.” He pulled the laces and Aryll swayed again.

“I do! I’m just… not the best shoe-tier.”

Satisfied, he patted the side of her foot. “Okay; go ahead. I’ll be out in a minute. But you know you’re kind of on your own, right?”

“Oh, I know!” she laughed, finally gliding onto the ice with an ease that Link was reluctant to admit he envied.

He put his own skates on slowly, glancing up every now and then to make sure Aryll hadn’t cracked her head open or anything terrible like that. He’d have no idea how to get to her if something happened, but she had been adamant that her classes made her good enough to know how to fall and how to jump and how to glide.

No one else knew how to ice skate, so sending Link was as good as sending anyone else with her. Plus, despite their occasional snippiness, Link would protect Aryll with his life, and their parents knew that enough to trust him alone with her at an ice rink. He’d find a way onto that ice faster than someone could call an ambulance.

Link let out a deep breath again and set his phone inside his shoe before standing up. It wasn’t as bad as he remembered. He could do this, for sure.

That attitude went out the window the second his first skate hit the ice.

“Oh, shit,” he hissed, already unsteady with one foot still on land. Land? Is that what it was called now?

“Sound carries in here!” Aryll chided, swishing by him tauntingly.

He waited until she was on the opposite side of the rink before clutching the boards for dear life, throwing his other foot over and slipping like was… on ice, he supposed. His feet couldn’t stabilize, and it was all up to his arms to hold him up until he managed to regain his balance.

Sliding his hand along the boards, he pulled himself as far as he could until the plexiglass took over, and he was forced to slide his fingers into the narrow gap for any grip.

He hadn’t lifted his legs yet, but he was where the net would be in hockey, so he let go for a second and glanced back at Aryll. “Better than you thought I could do, huh?”

She skated up to him and then turned herself backwards, judging him with her arms across her chest as she disappeared.

“Critic,” he muttered, trying to lift his foot. He could only manage to get his right off the ground, and he kept trying to dig the front of his skate into the ice to push himself forward, because that’s what everyone in those videos Aryll made him watch with her last night did. He managed a shuffle, and every time he felt himself going, he grabbed for that little spot under the glass to steady himself, and then dragged himself along.

“You really suck,” Aryll said on her next pass.

“Hey! Language! You’re like, five!”

“I’m not five!” she called back. It was a running joke between them because Link needed to do math to figure out Aryll’s age. He always had to subtract six years from his own age to figure hers out, but she still seemed younger to him. Maybe she’d always be that way just because he was the oldest. Maybe, she’d be in her thirties one day and Link would still think she was a teenager.

It took a long time and several taunts from Aryll, but Link made it around the whole rink once, while Aryll had probably circled it nearly two hundred times. He’d gone around again, but he was stopped, watching Aryll practice her jumps when he heard the echo of footsteps entering the rink.

It was a public place, he knew, but they’d gone early to avoid people, not to share.

But wow, any semblance of annoyance he had disappeared when he saw the girl hurrying down the steps with a gym bag slung over her shoulder.

She had long blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, and really that was all Link could see from that distance, but he did have a thing for blondes, and that was all he needed to feel an instant infatuation. But of course, his nerves shot up tenfold because now there was a hot blonde who’d watch him not know how to skate and probably fall on his ass.

He dragged himself around a bit more, trying to just keep his eyes on his feet instead of on her, but he was a sucker and glanced up.

She was watching Aryll with a fond smile on her face before she stood up and moved onto the ice.

Link shivered while he looked her over. She had a loose short-sleeved shirt on, her sports bra straps showing on her shoulders, and she was in a pair of leggings that hugged her a little too perfectly. He groaned to himself. She had to be hot. Physically, not temperature wise because honestly, she looked like she might be pretty cold.

After pulling himself along a little more—and then trying to shuffle his feet rather than drag himself like he was trying to lead a stubborn horse—he needed to pause to rest. So, he watched Aryll and the girl skate around the rink.

The girl neared him as she was making a turn around the rink, like a warmup, and smiled shyly at him when she noticed his gaze on her.

Shit. She probably didn’t want to be watched just as much as he didn’t. And Goddess, her eyes had been so green they’d nearly made him do a double take. But no! No double takes! She didn’t want to be watched!

It wasn’t until he heard Aryll’s loud “Whoa!” that he looked back out, clutching the boards again as he whipped his head and lost his balance. He expected to see Aryll on the ground, but she was just watching the other girl in awe. And honestly, so was Link.

She was spinning, but not like a normal person. Her arms were tucked against her chest and she spun like those people on the television who competed for medals and awards.

Her arms went out gracefully as she ended it like it was no big deal. Like she didn’t look like someone had just perfectly spun a coin.

She smiled at Aryll, and Goddess above, her smile was gorgeous and inviting and why did she have to be here?

The girl then leaped, some sort of near perfect split in the air before landing and sending Aryll another grin.

“How do you do that?” Aryll asked.

“Aryll!” Link called, chastising her. “Let the lady practice in peace.”

“No, it’s okay with me if it’s okay with you,” she said, stopping just in front of him.

Oh, she was so much prettier up close: freckles that scattered along her face, her long hair tied back into a much better ponytail than his own, glowing skin, impressive muscles. And she wasn’t too bad in the… no, he had to keep his eyes up! Only to be captured in her green ones. Expectant.

“What?” he asked, realizing that she was waiting for an answer from him, but entirely forgetting the question.

“I don’t want to talk to her or help her out if you’re not okay with it. That’s all. You are with her, right?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, looking at Aryll’s clear eavesdropping expression as she pretended to be distracted, though her eager face gave her away. “Yeah, go ahead. She likes all that… spinning stuff.”

The girl bit her lip to stop herself from giggling at ‘spinning stuff.’ Goddess, he was stupid. What a stupid thing to say to someone who clearly knows what they’re doing.

He kept shuffling, trying in earnest now to block out their conversation so he could focus on the simple task of going forward.

His attention was torn between making sure Aryll wasn’t being kidnapped and wondering how he’d ever cross the rink to save her if she was. But all he saw was the girl demonstrating something before Aryll tried it, and the girl’s face lit up as she clapped in encouragement.

The entrance of the rink was back in his sight, so he was less concerned about watching Aryll and more focused on his feet.

Which is why he didn’t see the girl until she was right in front of him.

“You should move away from the boards and look up rather than at your feet. It’ll help.”

Even her voice was gorgeous. Goddess above…

“I’ll fall,” he said simply, his hand still on the board.

“Yeah. You have to fall.”

“You haven’t fallen and you’re doing all those… spins. So I don’t think that logic works.”

The girl skated backwards in front of him. “Do you really think I haven’t fallen?”

“No, of course not,” he muttered. Someone who was that good had to have learned through a few spills over the years.

“Then trust me. Look up and get away from the boards. Stop worrying about falling.”

She skated back over to Aryll, demonstrating something else for his sister to try.

With their attention diverted, he pushed away from the boards and kept his eyes on the wall straight ahead.

And promptly felt his skates slide away from him, wide and uneven, throwing him entirely off balance until he hit the ice with a hard thud.

Knowing that both their eyes were on him now, he tried to get to his feet quickly, but that only ended with him slipping and hitting his chin on the ground. So, face burning with utter embarrassment, he rested his forehead against his arm so he could scream internally for a hot second before trying again.

When he looked up, the girl was crouched down in front of him. “Do you need help?”

He could either: stay on the ice like a flattened pancake, or let the hot girl realize that he really is an embarrassment for being unable to get to his own feet.

Looking back at her, he was struck by how she didn’t smile. She wasn’t laughing at him, or enjoying his pain. She wasn’t pitying him either. She just looked… like this was normal.

“Y-yeah,” he found himself saying, taking her outstretched hand.

He shuddered at the contact of her skin on his. She helped him flip onto his stomach and then to his knees before she pulled him up. “Is this your first time skating?”

Lie, or tell the truth?

Something about her wide, earnest green eyes had him sucking up his pride. “No, I just suck.”

“Everyone sucks at the beginning. Once you get it, you’ll be flying like the Rito,” she laughed, tapping the emblem on his hat. Then she blushed furiously, her whole face turning a shade of pink as she let go of his hand and moved backwards. “Sorry. Personal space issues sometimes when I’m on the rink.”

“No, it’s okay,” he muttered, unable to get his voice any louder. His hands were out to steady himself, but he slipped again, landing on his knee.

This time, she did smile, but it was soft and she held her hand out again.

“Your sister could teach you. She said she’s been taking skating lessons for a while.”

Scoffing harshly, Link shook his head and glanced at Aryll, who was blissfully making loops around the rink, unconcerned with them. But he took her hand again.

This time, she didn’t let go. She shook it. “I’m Zelda.”

He glanced at their clasped hands and raised his eyebrows, shocked that she was even telling him her name. “Link.”

She gave him a tug before letting go of him, letting him coast in the momentum. “So, you… um… go to school around here?”

He looked back at his feet so they didn’t get away from him, but he heard Zelda tsk, so he looked back at her. “Yeah. I’m in my last year at Faron High.”

Her smile broadened. “I’m in my last year at Labrynna!”

Hot, kind, and his own age.

Link took her in, suddenly feeling guilty; as much as he wanted to fall again just so she’d offer her hand one more time, he didn’t know her. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. Thanks for helping.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, glancing at Aryll for a while. “I’m always here, so it’s nice to have a different morning. And I like meeting new people.”

And just like that, the guilt faded away from him. “Always here? You a professional skater?”

“Not professional,” she said, offering her hand again. “I’ve done competitions.”

This time, he didn’t know why she was offering, so he hesitated before getting sucked in by her genuine smile. She tugged him again and he started to glide with her again.

He chuckled and kept his eyes off his feet. “You good at it?” Zelda raised an eyebrow, so he quickly waved his hands. “I-I mean, you looked incredible, but anyone who can move forward deserves a medal in my eyes. So, my comparisons aren’t great.”

Zelda bit her lip and shrugged. “I’ve done well.”

That, Link knew, was code for ‘yes, I’m very good,’ but from someone far humbler than himself.

After checking on Aryll, Zelda nodded to herself as she looked over Link. “You’re doing better already.”

“I am?” he asked, glancing at his feet.

Which, of course, sent him lurching forward until he hit the ice.

Zelda giggled this time, covering her mouth to try to stifle it. “I’m sorry! I threw off your focus!”

Link groaned and made it halfway to his feet before taking her hand this time. Well, he was getting better at falling anyway.

She didn’t let go.

Instead, she held out her other hand. “I can help keep you balanced so you can try moving your feet.”

One more hit, and Link was sure he’d wake up from this dream. Because what was even happening right now?

Well, if this was a dream, might as well go for it. And if it wasn’t… what could he do that’s more embarrassing than he’d already done?

So, he took her hand.

She pulled him with her for a moment before gesturing to his feet. “You should try… you know… skating.”

“Right,” he said, admittedly holding her a little tighter as he tried to push off the ice but stumbled.

She steadied him, but before he knew it, she was clicking her tongue at him again. “Link, stop looking at your feet.”

The sound of his name on her lips had his head jerking up far faster than he meant to. He was like an eager puppy, and he knew it.

Once they’d gone around a little more, Zelda loosened her grip. “I’m going to let go. Keep going. You’re doing really good.”

He blew out some air as she released him, and his arms shot out to his sides to keep him steady. But he was doing it. He was going forward.

He couldn’t help the triumphant little laugh that escaped from his lips.

“So, you’re not hopeless after all!” Aryll said as she skated beside him. “It’s taken him forever to figure this out! I even tried to show him videos yesterday.”

Defensive, Link glared at Aryll. “I tried to do it their way. But I couldn’t figure out the toe thing.”

Zelda raised an eyebrow again. “Toe thing?”

“Yeah, they kept pushing off with their toe or something, but I can’t get it.”

Goddess, Zelda was perfect, because she lifted her foot up to show off her skate while still skimming backwards in front of him. “This thing?” she asked, pointing to a sharp barb looking thing in the front of the blade.

“Yeah, they pushed off with that, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.”

Zelda laughed again as she set her foot down. “These are for figure skating. The ones you have on are for hockey. No toe pick. They’re different.”

“They are?” he asked, trying—and failing—to get a good look at his own skates. “I thought they were all the same.”

“They’re not,” she said, her cheeks pinching her eyes with her smile. “You know, you’ve been skating this whole time without falling.”

“It’s a miracle,” Aryll muttered.

Link turned to her with a glare. “You’d better watch it, because when I get really good, I’m going to pick you up and throw you across the ice, and you better know how to stick that landing or you’ll end up on your ass.”

“First off, language,” Aryll huffed. “Second off, that sounds fun, so go ahead.”

He scoffed and playfully pushed her, though it did little more than throw him off balance for a moment. And when he looked up, he could see that people were starting to come into the rink quickly.

Zelda sighed and watched them with a sad expression. “I know them. They always just completely take over the ice. It’s a pain.”

Link finally stopped moving when he saw who it was. Mipha, Revali, and their friends were laughing boisterously as they took their seats in the bleachers to get their skates on.

Zelda looked between them and Link. “Do you know them?”

“Kind of. They go to my school, but we don’t talk.”

Zelda stared at them, specifically at Mipha, before muttering to herself. “Wow. She’s really pretty. I’d kill to look like her.”

Looking Zelda over, Link was glad that Aryll had taken a turn around the rink without them. Because he didn’t think he’d have the courage to say anything if she’d been around as his audience.

“I know a stranger’s opinion isn’t worth anything but… personally, I prefer blondes.”

Whipping around, an incredulous look on her face, Zelda lost her balance and fell back onto the ice. She barely seemed like she noticed, pulling her legs up to her so she could stare open mouthed at Link until she regained her composure.

Her face was bright red, and she couldn’t quite meet Link’s eyes as she laughed to herself. But finally, she worked up to it and her gaze had him pinned.

“Yeah, I do too.”

Link nodded nervously before he started to chuckle and held his hand out to help her up.

She took it as a courtesy, but got up on her own so she didn’t pull him down when he’d spent so long getting his balance.

This time, when their hands lingered too long, the energy between them was palpable, and both of them were blushing.

Aryll skated up to them. “I’m hungry. Can we go to Windy’s?”

Link glanced apologetically at Zelda, and she followed them back to the gate, watching as they both pulled at the laces in much the same aggressively impatient manner. It had her grinning.

“You know,” she said when Link stood up. “I’m here at 7:30 whenever there isn’t school. I’ll be here tomorrow, if Aryll would like some more help.”

Her eyes were distinctively flirty, and Link was beyond glad that Aryll was still too young to recognize it, because she gasped in excitement. “Can we, Link?”

He didn’t look at Aryll, too entranced by Zelda’s blatant invitation. “We’ll ask mom, but if she says you can, I’ll bring you. If not… I might just come here alone.” His lips tipped up, and he prayed that the red in his cheeks and down his neck just looked like it was from the cold.

“No fair! But mom will say yes if you’re bringing me so she can go back to sleep!”

Link didn’t even realize how awake he’d become since Zelda came into the rink.

Zelda pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ears that had come free in her fall. “Okay then. I’ll see you both tomorrow. For lessons.”

Aryll beamed. “Maybe you can come for lunch with us tomorrow?”

Zelda bit her lip and looked over at Link, who was now staring at the floor so she couldn’t see his expression. But she thought he was cute when he was nervous. “Link? What do you think?”

Forced to look up at her, he knew she could see how eager he was to just straight out say yes. It was all over his face, and burning in his eyes. “If you’d like to,” he said carefully. “I have no objections.” He finished sliding his normal shoes back on before standing up.

“Okay. I look forward to it. I’ll see you tomorrow Aryll. Link.”

He stepped forward, a little too close to where she leaned on the board. “Zelda.”

Her mouth dropped into a smile as he used her name for the first time.

Link patted Aryll’s shoulder to lead her up the stairs before taking one more look behind him at Zelda.

They were halfway up the steps when Link pointed to Aryll. “Do not tell mom that there is a pretty girl involved.”

But Aryll smiled. “Your voice carries, Link.”

Spinning around on the stairs, he saw Zelda beaming as she giggled. But she—thankfully—pushed off the board and twirled once before skating away, her eyes on them until she no longer could see where they stood.

And when Link glanced at Mipha as they passed, and he felt that his infatuation with her had faded to near nothing from the time he’d gotten out of the car to the time he got into it once again. He knew he was doomed. because the only one on his mind now was Zelda.

He’d never been more excited to set an early alarm.

#legend of zelda #LoZ AU #modern au #ice skating #link #zelda #aryll #zelink #happy fic #for once!#was this inspire by my inability to ice skate? yes.#I'm sorry the title sucks but I could think of NOTHING #This is another 6am oneshot that I forgot to post the day I wrote it #oneshot #writing

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rattlerinthewheel · 3 years ago

Text

Fruit Bat: Scud/Reader

He should know better than to irritate the vampire that’s already pissed, wounded, and starving—so you teach him.

For the Kinky Things Happen bingo square: vampires and discipline, at @pandoratriestowritestuff’s request for some Scud. Credit to them and @phoenixblack89, who talked about Scud getting spanked and choking on a donut, for the respective scenes.

- - -

You’re still pissed at him.

But it’s hard to give him the silent treatment when you need to get at the junk around the tables. Move, pass me that wrench, throw me that wire, is dry and distant, work-related; but turn that shit down, quit spewing crumbs, stop grabbing me, and other growls that aren’t related to the tech you’re fiddling with get read as some sign—to keep doing those things, but that’s sure not what your glares should be saying.

Well, it isn’t a surprise that he’s being a dumbass about it. A moron about a lot of shit, lately, the bandage on your arm can vouch for that. And it was an accident, sure, you wouldn’t usually blame him for aiming that UV flashlight at anything that swarmed at him on a job; but he’d been high and you’d called out a warning, dammit, and he still got you with it. Burned like a motherfucker, like acid.

His apology was huffed, high-sluggish, and rank like the shitty weed he’d been toking.

Maybe he’s realizing you’re really pissed, content with just your hand as company for a few days, because you haven’t taken a break even once from this group project—a net of UV panels you can drape over the van; they stay off for now, obviously—to get your hands down his pants, or his down yours.

But Josh—Scud’s dumb, and it pisses him off to be called Josh, so of course that’s what you call him—is definitely high, not as sharp as he’d otherwise be, and his logic is coming from his dick today. His brain would be screaming at him to not agitate the vampire that’s wounded and pissed.

He’s prodded at you the whole damn night so far, brushing your groin to grab a tool there’s fifteen more of scattered around that he can get to, angling his head in a way that makes the churning veins under too damn tempting, flat-out groping your ass when his first two tactics don’t get him anything more than warning hisses.

Except when he decides he doesn’t like a particular hiss you give, too much teeth for his liking, because when his hand drops from where it’s gotten in a squeeze it claps right back down across the ass cheek it grabbed. Fucking hard, too; "make peace, not war" your ass.

You whirl where he’s scrambling back to his side of the room, giggling, hands raised with his palms out like he can call a truce. Like he hasn’t been doing this shit all night and your hisses and menaced fangs are supposed to be equals, or something.

Well, they aren’t. And you feel like cashing in some payback.

"C’mon, baby, lighten up!" trails his getaway while you give chase. You don’t run after him, but Josh stumbles and darts around like you are. It’s one of the oldest hunting tactics, just following, while the prey tires itself out trying to get away. Vampires don’t need to use it, you could just as easily catch up, even with a bandaged arm.

But Josh wants to goddamn play, so you’ll follow suit. For now.

Smoker’s lungs, stoner’s, don’t let him keep it up as long as a guy his age could. Josh staggers, stumbles a last time like his clothes weigh fifty pounds, and drops on the steps up to another part of the workshop. By his couch and TV, the little nest he’s made for himself, and you don’t think that’s accidental; but you don’t plan to move things to that shitty couch, not anytime soon.

You walk right up to him, and Josh goddamn grins, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs like he’s offering himself up like a damn meal. He’s still got one of those shitty donuts, and he takes a bite, still grinning, and flicks a crumb at your leg.

"You’re a child," you growl, getting a whiff of syrup lactic acids, probably burning his calves like battery; iron thumped in and out of his heart, jumping in his throat, flushing his face; that damn weed turning everything earthy, chalky like loam, but still good.

"I’m a delight," spews more crumbs with another giggle. "Besides, baby, you love it."

You do—when you aren’t pissed at him. "Love to kick your ass," you huff, toeing the step by his foot.

His hum makes you swallow. Fucking thirsty, you are, and that’s just the worst kind of trifecta for Josh to be near right now: starved, pissed, and wounded. Your nerves are shot, and his chase didn’t tire you, but it sure as shit reminded you of what hunts are supposed to take care of. And his hum, that sounds vaguely like a dying, helpless churr from a punctured throat...

Shit.

But the hum bubbles into a chuckle, as you’re stepping away to beat it and get back to work—so Blade doesn’t have you to stake and Josh to mend, or a drained corpse to bury—when you get a lazy kick to your calf and a teasing, "The little fruit bat running away? Afraid I’ll smack him again?"

You’re starving, agitated, and your arm throbs. It’s not a nickname you hate, but it sets off something.

You stop, turn back slowly, and flick your eyes to either side to make sure you won’t be skewered by stray junk out of place. All clear, so you skulk up, schooling your face into a careful, bland look that puts Josh on edge more than a scowl.

"Ain’t my ass about to get smacked, boy," is throttled with a snap of fangs and a low pounce, and Josh can only drop the fucking donut and yelp as you tackle him.

He gets a bit of ground, because his hand clamps right down on the bandages, making you bark at the bolt of pain. It’s been longer since your last drink than you admitted to Blade, before he left, and that doesn’t help. But Blade would’ve had you come with, otherwise, and you figured dealing with Josh was worth getting the panels for the van closer to field testing.

Because as much as you want to skitter up the wall and drop Josh from the rafters, most days, you don’t want to get back to the van and find a drained, stoner-sized juice box.

So it’s a little ironic that he’s sprawled over your legs, when the scuffle’s over. It’s not what you intended—to pin him to his stomach, straddle, and give a few smacks before letting him go—but you sort yourselves out. First Josh, and you wrap an arm over his waist to keep him down; then yourself, and you sit up properly so his ass is right where you want it.

These days, child rearing isn’t what you were accustomed to, and Josh doesn’t figure it out until he feels your hand settle across the seat of his cargo pants. "No fuckin’ way," is half telling, half laughing, and the weed probably has something to do with that second part.

Because the first part’s not amused, but just in case he doesn’t get it across that he’s not thrilled to be pinned this way, Josh starts trying to buck off your lap.

"Yes fucking way," you hiss, and your hand cracks down over his right cheek.

It’s loud, even for his human hearing, and goes off like a shotgun blast. Josh twists his head back, huffing. The scowl he tries to give doesn’t have the kind of impact he hopes for, when it twitches at the second swat you land, right over the same spot. Harder than the first, because you won’t have him scowling at you, goddamn brat.

"Hope you know how to sleep with one eye open," cracks when you get a handful of flesh, quieter when he hangs his head. The pants are thin, and you feel the warmth from the swats, hell, hear the blood fizz under the surface. "Get you back for this."

You frown, not at the threat, but another rush of blood you hear. Feel, even better, in your lap.

You growl and throw a withering look his way, because fucking seriously? "You gettin’ hardover this?"

You hear the bones grind, Josh gritting his teeth, when you give the spot you’ve hit twice now a slow rub. Christ, he is, and he’s halfway there by the time you’ve rubbed enough circles into the warmed skin that you have to strain to hear the fizzing blood. You should’ve guessed he was into this, not like he doesn’t rile you up to pin or chase him anyway, this even makes sense.

The swipe to his left thigh is sudden, vampire speed but not strength because you aren’t that cruel. Your ears perk at the sound it gets, when the crack settles again, but before you can ask if he’s fine you feel his thigh rise up into your hand. You can’t help but scoff, because Christ’s sake, you weren’t trying to get frisky with him—and that ship’s goddamn sailed, because you’re helping him get hard.

You’re getting hard, too, can’t be a hypocrite about that. Josh feels it, pushing up into his side, and when he twists his head back again he’s flushed and his mouth’s open. His eyes are glazed over, brow’s furrowed, you think, but it’s hard to tell with the mop of hair in the way. Dammit,and you get a handful of his shirt in your striking hand to keep him from toppling over, and unwrap the other to push the hair off his face.

You can hear his sigh just fine, but it thrums into your fingers where you keep them pushed into his scalp, warm, damp from work and running from you. "Done already, baby? Maybe we can switch," buzzes up your arm.

Shit. You aren’t excited for that, because if he’s going to get you back he’s damn well working for it. But you can feel him reacting to you, swamping your senses; a whine when your fingers curl in the bangs before combing out, his hips shimmying when your arm loops over again, the muscles of his hide clenching as you drag down his pants and boxers.

That last one gets a sharp breath that’s followed up with a sharper swat. You suck in a gasp yourself and tighten your arm, giving your hard-on friction to grind off of, as you run your fingertips over the barely-pink skin. Warm, hot, without the fabric, and it fizzles louder like damn fireworks, when you drop your palm over the left cheek.

"Baby? Not getting any, uh, urges? Know I look good ‘nough to eat normally, but—"

"Shut up," you snarl, and then you’re smacking him again.

It’s anger at this bullshit, your injury, your arm throbbing as Josh twitches against the hold you just double down on when you start laying down swats quick and hard. He could’ve killed you, and he was too damn high to realize it, to apologize, still hasn’t.

But it’s some twisted fascination, too, watching the barely-pink go hot pink, white in the beat after a blow before it blooms darker, then red. You hear the blood fizz, pop, and simmer with each shade the flesh darkens to. Ass goes slower than the thighs, more meat to them, and that reminds you that there’s something to grab so you do. Not after every swat, just to give you both a breather, and you groan when you peel your hand off each time and a five-fingered print flares white before reddening again.

"Hope you choke on those damn donuts," you groan, throaty, when you realize your aim goes off because Josh is rutting into your damn lap. "Quit moving, lemme."

He goes rigid when you grab a hot thigh and spread him open, shift him right so his cock isn’t snug against your leg, and start to stroke. Cruelly slow, but it’s not like he’s getting out of this without some discipline. But you wouldn’t exactly mind doing this again, either...

"No one’s dead, then?"

Josh yelps and finally does buck off your lap. You let him, falling in a heap with his pants still down to his knees, because you’re too busy cringing back from the circle of UV light pointed at the floor. On concrete, not too close to the steps, but you’ve had enough of that wicked light as it is.

Blade doesn’t look bothered by Josh’s undressed, red ass, or the wet spot he left on your jeans. Neither of you finished, just pre-cum, but you’re not keeping a nose or ear out to scent or hear if Josh does by accident in the scramble. You’ve got something else on your mind, that wicks away the lust and anger and drags hunger up your throat so fast you’re dizzy.

The IV bag’s tossed to you, torn into and drained in the time it takes Blade to fish out another from his bag. You hear the flashlight go off and pounce out onto concrete to burrow into the second one he gives over, then growl for the third you can smell when he doesn’t offer it.

"There a problem?"

Your growl sputters, and Josh must’ve gotten his pants back up because he draws attention to himself now. "All good, B. Just looking for some shit for the panels."

Blade doesn’t ask what shit required Josh’s nose being two inches from the lowest step, or being over your lap while he looked, but you go deaf to what they do talk about when the third bag’s thrown your way. By the time you finish, wiggling the puncture marks over your yawning mouth to get the last drop, Blade’s gone and Josh’s face wrinkles.

"Oh, now you don’t want to bother me?" you purr, all fangs, your arm hardly aching and your throat good and wet.

"Shit, dude, would table manners kill you?"

You purr louder, a chuckle, as Josh turns away and goes to hide on his couch with his TV. Close to dawn, anyway, and it’s better to have two pairs of hands for the panels. At least that’s what Josh will tell Blade, probably, if he asks why he isn’t working on it in the morning when you’re sleeping. You’re betting on Blade either calling him out, saying a sore ass doesn’t mean a day off, or just letting it slide. He’s not stranger to vampire strength, even if it’s never been applied to his ass.

Well, Josh can tell him all about it, and you wipe the blood off your face, purr throttling in a real laugh, as Josh decides to lay down on his stomach while he fumbles with the TV.

"Gonna get you back," he reminds you.

In the dim, barely-lit room, with just some cartoon to flick pale tones over the dark space, you lurk over and crawl up onto the back of the couch, balancing on your side, so you can lick your fingers clean and run them through his hair. You tune out the shitty TV to hone in on his blood, calming down, still sputtering around his warm ass. It’s white noise you lose yourself in, purring at his swears when he shifts and agitates the flesh.

#blade 2 #scud #scud x reader #male reader #vampire reader #prompt request #bingo fill

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trashforhockeyguys · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Hold Me -16- Carter Hart

A/N: Alright...here we go. It’s beginning now. So, I’m sorry. Like very very sorry. But um...enjoy? As always all previous parts are linked in my masterlist.

You sat alone in your dorm room, trying to figure out what you were meant to do. Three days had passed since the break in. Carter was trying to give you space, he was trying his hardest not to smother you. He seemed to understand that you needed to process what was happening now. But he missed you, and you missed him.

You weren’t sure how this was supposed to go. You didn’t know how you were supposed to keep him safe, but still keep him close. You loved him, but you loved him too much to let him stay.

Not as you stared at the note that fell out of your textbook a few days prior. He sent one warning, he told you what was coming. He wanted to torment you, let you know he was there. He was everywhere, always watching, just waiting for the perfect time to strike. This was a game to him, a game he was going to keep playing with you until you didn’t have anything left.

You felt like the walls were closing in on you. Like the whole city was closing in on you. But there was nowhere that you could go to get away from this. It would follow you everywhere...he would follow you everywhere. You had to figure out a way to keep him away from everyone you cared about. You had to keep them safe.

You pulled out the note that had fallen from your textbook just a few days before.

YOU CANT IGNORE ME FOREVER

He already knew how to get to Carter, he knew where Travis lived. He found you at school, and likely had a way into your dorm. There was no running from him this time, he had you cornered again. The only option you had was to play along with his game, whatever it would be.

You jumped when your alarm went off, reminding you of the class you had in fifteen minutes. Kora was already gone. You’d have to walk by yourself. What if he was waiting for you? You wouldn’t put it past him. In truth, you were terrified, more so than you had been since he showed up here in Philly. Because now you knew he really meant it, he was going to do everything he could to burn your life to the ground.

You had three unread texts from Carter, a missed call from Travis, and both from Ethan. They were all worried, and this time they had every right to be. This was real now, there was no more denying that he was here and he wanted to wreck it all.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered all of your books and shoved them into your bag. You had an art presentation at the end of the week, and all of your pieces no longer seemed as bright and clear as they once were. Shadows covered all of them, looks of worry seemed to make their way into the eyes of those you drew.

You tried to keep your head down as you made your way into the correct building. You tried to avoid everyone you could. Tried not to think about how he could be watching you right now, or watching Carter or Travis. He could have someone back home ready to mess with Ethan...he could be planning anything.

Maybe this is what he wanted, he wanted to drive you insane before he struck. Maybe he was just waiting until you were at your weakest again so it would be easier to finally finish whatever plan he had.

“Y/N! Hey, I’ve been looking all over campus for you!” Kora exclaimed as she ran into the small lounge in the student center.

Your head snapped up from your sketchbook, hours passed since your last class. You were trying to get out some of the feelings that were trapped in your body. Drawing seemed to be the easiest way for you to do that, even if all you could do was draw all of the people you loved scared or in pain.

“Oh..yeah sorry. I um- I guess I lost track of time.”

“The guys were worried sick,” She plopped into the seat next to you, “Travis wanted to know if you’d feel better staying with him.”

“No...I need to stay here,” You replied slowly.

He would do something if you went to Travis’ place. Somehow staying here in the dorm seemed like the safest option for everyone. He couldn’t get into the dorm or know which room you were in. This felt like the best option to keep everyone safe.

“You’ve seen him again, haven’t you?” She questioned.

You nodded slowly, “He’s everywhere. Kora...stay away from any strange guys, okay?”

“Y/N….”

“I’m fine. It’s going to be okay,” You forced a smile, “I should go, there’s a game tonight. I can’t miss it.”

“Are you sure you should go?”

You weren’t sure at all. In fact you were pretty sure that you shouldn’t go at all. But Carter and Travis were expecting you to be there. You were at every home game. You couldn’t start missing them now because they’d know something was really wrong.

“I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Even if you didn’t believe it yourself, you had to make everyone else think that you did. You wanted them all to believe you were fine, so that they wouldn’t worry about you. You couldn’t handle them all thinking you were one step away from breaking down again. That was really the last thing you wanted.

The boys finally stopped looking at you like you’d fall apart at any moment, you didn’t want to go back to that, you couldn’t. Not after you had to go through so much to make sure they didn’t see you as that girl anymore. But, even now you could feel yourself starting to slip back into it all. Back into the fear.

You quickly changed when you got back to your dorm, your fingers ghosted over all of the jerseys and shirseys you had. Some of the shirseys dated back to long before you met Travis, and a lot of them had been handed down to you by Ethan. They were all so worn in and soft. You pulled out the oldest one you had, which was nearly worn out. There were holes along the collar and sleeves, and it was three sizes too big for you, but it never failed to make you feel safe. Ethan gave it to you when you left for school, just for that purpose. You quickly pulled it on before slipping Carter’s jersey over top of it.

You really didn’t want to go, you wanted to hide for the rest of the night. But you knew both Travis and Carter would be here and ready to bust down your door if you didn’t go. So you forced yourself out of the dorm and into the waiting cab. You made your legs move towards the area and through security. You tried to act happy and carefree as you sat with everyone else. You tried...because that's all you could do.

“How are you doing? The guys said Carter’s worried,” One of the wives asked.

“Oh, I’m fine! Finals are just coming up soon,” You shrugged, trying to get off of the topic.

They didn’t need to know you were scared of your own shadow, and all that could go bump in the night. You were scared of what you knew was waiting for you, somewhere in the city. He was probably here tonight, ready to strike the moment he could. The only thing you knew to do was try and minimize whatever fallout would come on the team.

“Are you sure? That breakin was horrible.”

You nodded and forced a smile, “They’ve fixed the issue with security, and the apartment is fine. I really have been busy with classes that’s all! Promise.”

You hoped you convinced them. You didn’t want to answer any more questions about how you were doing. Carter was worried, you knew that, just like you knew that Travis was worried too. There wasn’t much you could do to relieve their fears. They knew you too well. You were sure Nolan was just as worried. And Ethan...you didn’t even want to think about how he must be going out of his mind. You hoped Kora was doing a good job of making sure he thought you were fine. You didn’t want him getting on a plane and coming back out here again.

Your skin was crawling during the first period. You knew someone was watching you somewhere in the arena. You looked to the bench, none of the guys were focused on you. Travis and Nolan were on the ice, Carter busy in net. It wasn’t a member of the team. That only meant that you were being paranoid, or he was here.

Half way through the second, you got a text. You were scared to look at it, having the dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach that it was going to be him. How he would’ve gotten your number didn’t even cross your mind. He was crafty, and when he wanted something he made sure he could get it. Especially if it meant he’d get to ruin you. He made that very clear.

GET AWAY FROM YOUR BODYGUARDS IF YOU'RE SMART. THE SMALL TEAM STORE BY YOUR SECTION. FIVE MINUTES

It was like ice water was poured all over you. He really was here. He knew where you were, and the fact that you were surrounded by the families of all of the players. There were arena attendants right by all of you. You had a feeling Travis and Carter asked for one of them to keep an eye on you while you were at the game, just so they could feel at ease.

You looked around, trying to figure out what to do. It was the middle of the game. None of the guys could help you. You looked up to the player box, where a few injured or scratched players were watching the game. You didn’t know any of them enough to ask them to come with you. This would have to be something you did solely on your own. Which was exactly how he wanted it.

“I’ll be right back,” You told the girls around you, “My parents want me to give them a call. I guess my brother didn’t really explain what happened very well.”

You forced another smile, this one hopefully just as convincing. It seemed to work because none of them questioned as you got up. They didn’t watch you as you walked away, there didn’t seem to be any worry at all. It was just as you needed it to be.

But, that didn’t stop your own heart from trying to pound out of your chest. Your ears were ringing as you climbed the steps towards the concourse. There was no telling what he wanted from you this time, but you could only hope that you would make it out okay since you were in public this time. You were in an area where you were known. It was no secret that you were dating Carter, or that you were like a sister to Travis and Nolan.

Your legs shook as you walked along the concourse towards the team store. You just wanted all of this to be over. Life was so different before he came back. There was a period of pure bliss with Carter. And before he was even a big part of your life, you were so happy and didn’t know any different. Life was good. Life was great. Everything was new, and exciting. You didn’t know much about pain, or being hurt by people you loved. Now you did...and it was because of him.

“Look at you, wearing his jersey.”

Your whole body went cold. He was standing just before you, dressed in black like he used to. For just a moment you hoped he wouldn’t even be here, you hoped he was just playing with you again. But he was here...and how he had you in his trap.

“He’s my boyfriend, he wanted me to wear it.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t kind. Nothing about him was kind. Nothing was comforting, or felt right. Every part of him was now a warning telling you to run as fast as you could. But your feet stayed right where they were. You didn’t move any closer, and neither did he. You were in a stalemate.

“You look like shit.”

You let out a bitter laugh, “What do you want?”

He took a step closer, watching you like a predator stalks its prey, “Oh, Doll. Don’t you want to play a game? You used to love our games.”

You shook your head, “You loved them. I never had a choice. You forced me into all of it.”

He cocked his head to the side, “I remember you used to beg for more.”

You hated who he made you then. You did all that you could to keep him with you because he’d convinced you that no one would want you after him. He made you into something you hated because you felt like you didn’t have a choice. He stripped away everything that you were and made you into his own personal little toy...his doll that he could play with.

“You made me into that person,” You hissed, “You broke me.”

He laughed, such a mincing sound that you wished you’d never have to hear again, “Oh Doll, I was just getting started.”

“Zachary, please stop,” You begged, “Leave now and I won’t tell a soul. It’ll be like you were never here.”

“And miss out on the real fun? Oh no I don’t think so. We’re just getting started.”

“Zack, please. I haven’t done anything. I left, I moved on. I haven’t been home in years,” You felt tears burning your eyes. You tried everything to force them back, “I gave up everything because you nearly killed me.”

“No. No, you don’t get to keep playing the victim. Not now. I ruined you? No. I lost my scholarship. No college would even consider me. No one in town will hire me. You ruined my life, all because you had to go cry big bad wolf. It’s time for you to pay up.”

“I’m begging you. Please just leave. The court records are sealed, you can go somewhere else. No one would have to know.”

“Oh, but this is going to be so much fun, Y/N. I don’t think you’ll have a need for that jersey when we’re done though.”

“Zachary, don’t touch him. Please. Leave Carter out of this, he has nothing to do with you and me.”

“Haven’t you figured it out? He has everything to do with this. Him, and Konecny and his little lap dog Patrick. All of them,” He explained, “And that hot roommate of yours, who’s so very sweet. She loves to help people.”

Kora...anyone but Kora.

“I wonder just how Ethan would feel if I was to get my hands on her? I’ve fucked his sister, might as well add his girlfriend to the list too.”

You surged forward, “If you lay a hand on her I swear to god-”

“See, now you’re willing to play. I knew one of them would convince you. So you’re going to go back to that group over there, and you’re going to tell them that you’re done for the night and you’re going to go home. And when he calls, because we both know he will, you tell him that you’re fine. And you keep telling him that.”

“Zach-”

“Shh, I’m not done yet. From now on, you don’t get to ignore me. Understand? I know where to find all of them. I’ve beaten Konecny before, I’ll gladly do it again.”

Fear rose up in you, because you knew he meant it. He never got along with Travis. Travis always saw right through him and he couldn’t stand that. He always took every chance he got to remind Travis how much he didn’t like him. You knew if he got the chance here, he’d do his very worst.

You knew he wasn’t kidding about any of it. Not anymore. He meant every word, and if you didn’t do what he wanted he would make due on all of the threats. You didn’t have a choice anymore. You couldn’t go to the police, they wouldn’t believe you. You had no evidence of what he’d done before because the records were sealed due to the fact that you were a minor when it all took place. So they closed and sealed them to protect you. Never did you think that it would turn around and hurt you.

“Just don’t hurt them,” Your voice was small and broken, “Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt them. Please.”

“Oh, I plan on doing a lot with you, Doll,” He winked at you and held up his phone, “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

He smiled again and turned to walk away. He got a couple of yards away from you before turning back around, “And don’t think about breaking up with him to save him, it won’t work. It’ll only make things worse for everyone. Have a good night, Y/N.”

Your whole body shook as you slowly turned around. You really wouldn’t be getting away from it this time. He had you trapped. There would be no running, no cunning away to save everyone you loved from getting hurt. They’d all get hurt somehow. But you hoped you could shoulder most of it and save them from as much pain as you could. You were strong enough to handle it all again. You made it out alive once before, you could do it again.

Slowly, you made your way back to your seat and informed the group that you weren’t feeling well and were going to go home. You weren’t even sure your legs would be able to carry you out. You tried not to look back towards the ice. Not as tears finally started to fall. You were doing this to keep Carter and Travis safe. You were doing it to make sure Nolan never had to know what you really had to go through before he met you.

And Kora...You would do a lot of things to make sure she was safe. She didn’t need to see any of it first hand. She didn’t need to experience how horrible all of it could be. You wanted to make sure that she would still be the same Kora by the end of all of this. If you had to, you’d cut her out after it was all over, just so she would never have to know.

And Carter...you wished you could’ve frozen those moments of peace and love with him. You wished you could’ve stayed in bed that day, in your own little world with him. Or that you two could’ve met in a different life, one where you’d never loved Zachary. One where the two of you could just be normal. Where he wouldn’t feel the need to keep protecting you from everything. You wished your life would’ve been different, not for yourself, but for the people that you might end up dragging down with you.

You never wanted to hurt any of them. You always knew you’d fall...but you never thought you’d end up bringing them along too. So, you’d play the game, you’d do whatever you had to do. Just to save them. You were already gone, there was nothing you could do about that anymore. But you still had a shot at keeping them out of it. And you were going to ensure it stayed that way.

#carter hart imagine #Carter hart imagines #Carter hart fanfic #Carter hart fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #Philly Flyers #Philly flyers imagine #Philly flyers imagines #nicolewritesthings

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sabraeal · 3 years ago

Note

WFB: That moment the hot blonde handed him his ass, and became his best friend. (You had to know I would throw some KikiObi friendship in here somewhere XD)

[Read on AO3]

South Gym. 7am. be there.

Obi blinks blearily down at the screen again, shifting the duffel strapped across his shoulder. Before he’d started performing his little act of penance, traipsing after the future Mrs Wisteria (the Younger) to make sure none of the Dean’s plans stuck, his schedule had been heaven. Undecided in life and major, there hadn’t been a single class before ten, and one of them even involved food.

And now here he is, standing outside a building so new there aren’t even finger prints on the plate glass, hoping he gets his ass kicked quick enough that he’ll make it to his lab at eight. So this is how the other half lives.

He’s not gonna get used to it. Bad idea when the carriage turns back to a pumpkin in three years.

South Gym certainly isn’t his usual; East was already a step up from the place he’d been going, a little hole in the wall hidden in a strip mall somewhere along Route 9. It’s closer to the frat for one, and he’s never had to share his locker with a rat. But as he swipes himself through the automatic door, stepping into a lobby so gleaming he can see his reflection, Obi realizes: this is a whole new ball game.

Probably the worst place to be caught tossing a white girl with a net worth bigger than some countries too, but hey, a bad idea’s never stopped him before. Especially when it came to a dare.

im gonna wipe the floor with you princess theyll need a whole bottle of mr clean to get the glitter off

He’s hardly pressed SEND before his phone vibrates, screen lighting up with, I do not recall asking for talk.

Obi huffs, scrubbing at the back of his bristle. Ms Kiki talks a big game, and sure, she held her own at that front yard beat down, but still-- she’s a head shorter than him. Not trained. Has a face that would make a good design for Ruthless Lawyer Barbie. He might not be at his fighting weight, but that doesn’t make her bones built any less like a bird’s. He could hose her by accident the way the monkey’s scratching at his back today.

Fuck, sure, she might have shouldered her way to the front of the line, cornering him with that you’re fighting me first talk. But if he had any sense at all-- which if history serves, he doesn’t-- he should have insisted on the Big Guy. He’s the face he wants to punch anyway; maybe not the one who deserves it, since Chief made the call, but it’s the safest one to plaster over his problems.

Still, a fight’s a fight. Even if Little Miss Bossy can’t go toe to toe with his training, Obi doubts a round with her would be boring.

So when he walks past reception, card swiped and time paid for, and sees the both of them chatting, the first thing he doesn’t feel is panic. No, no, it’s the closest he’s got to excitement since Doc threw herself out a window.

“Two on one,” he drawls, sauntering up behind them. “Great odds. Sure you guys don’t want to phone a friend on this one?”

It’s a pleasure to see Big Guy nearly jump out of his skin, one of those giant hands pressed to where his horse-sized heart has to live. He should get a medal for not asking if that’s the only equine-sized anatomy the Maple Leaf’s got on the table.

“Obi!” he gasps, clutching his underarmor like pearls. “I didn’t hear you.”

Ah, fuck. He’s getting real sloppy lately. “Maybe if you ask nice, Doc’ll let you put a bell on me.”

Obi makes a real show of it, leaning close and miming the bow; Big Guy retreats. He could take it personal, could even be a little scared that a guy built like a brick wall took exception to the batting of his eye lashes, but-- well, he’s been around the Jolly Graying Giant long enough to know he skitters away from anyone getting close. The whole elephants-fearing-mice instinct or whatever, like he might stomp them if he’s not careful.

Ms Kiki, however, swivels his way, brow arched just so to contain every scrap of sarcasm. “Don’t you mean Zen?”

“Ah, ha-ha...” It’d be nice if his grin was more winning than wry, for once. “Do I?”

Time for a topic change. Unless he’d like to give himself more rope to hang himself with. Looks like Atomic Blonde would love to tie the knot herself if he’d let her.

“So, Ms Kiki, what are we doing today?” He lets his gaze drag up her, taking in the leggings, the weird white onesie she has wrapped around herself, complete with an equally unalluring crotch strap. “Beekeeping?”

Instead of an answer she thrusts something into his hand with all the subtlety of Hot Potato. It’s a helmet thing, all netted over the face, and honestly if she was this worried about getting her Vogue-ready looks all mussed up she could have just told him no head hits. It’s not like he was planning on landing KOs today anyway.

“Stand at the other end of the piste.” Kiki delivers the request so tonelessly that it doesn’t even matter she’s covering her face; he’d get the same amount of emotion either way.

“The what?” he manages, trying to imagine what pissed has to do with anything, unless she already is, or they’re planning on getting it after.

Her head rolls-- kind of a weird, robotic gesture with that mask on-- and points at the floor. “The strip.”

The mat’s all taped up-- no, not taped, but the piss-thing is all marked off anyway, colors blocked all over the floor. A rectangle that spans half the room, with a bunch of other ones inside it, making some weird, botched checkerboard pattern.

“Oh, this is like a fencing thing.” Makes sense; this is where the team meets, Olympic hopefuls and all. Obi paces the length of it, counting out four Mitsuhides before he gives up; by the time Kiki stops shooing him, he might as well be back at the frat for all the swings that’ll hit.

“You know, if you didn’t want to fight, you coulda just said you wanted Jamba Juice or something,” he calls out, wincing at the echo. “I won’t think any less of you.”

She tilts her mask up; he’s disappointed to find it looks nothing like a knight lifting their visor. So much for that fantasy. But he’ll tuck that little smirk she gives him in the bank for later. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her back turns to him, and it’s too far to hear what she’s saying to the Big Guy, too far to even read lips unless Tall, Gray and Stoic learns to talk a little more. Years ago, Obi would have been proud to claim he was immune to head games, but this-- this is starting to get to him.

Maple Leaf hands something off to her, and it’s the only warning he’s got before something way too long to be tossed comes his way. It’s no surprise he fumbles it; maybe D’Artagnan over there can catch a three-foot blade with confidence, but Obi’s got a real aversion to sharp things invading his personal space two years in the making.

Their whispering might be inaudible from this many paces, but he sure does hear Ms Kiki’s cluck loud and clear. “Pick it up.”

He does. Obi doesn’t really speak fluent dollar signs, but he can tell-- these things don’t come cheap. And when it sits in his hand, it certainly feels that way.

“You know,” he says, giving the sword a little slash. It wobbles frustratingly in his hands. “When you said you wanted to fight me, I thought you meant--”

“I’m aware.” The princess is all monster when she smiles at him, endless teeth and the promise of a good devouring. “Put on your helmet.”

Obi gives his trusty steel a dubious once-over. It’s hard enough holding this thing straight with full vision, never mind adding that weird ye olde beekeeper mask to the mix. “Doesn’t the challenged get to pick the weapon or whatever? Can’t we do pistols at dawn?”

Not that he’s ever done much more with a gun than look at it, but if he was going to place his bets between the two, it’s the one least likely to kill him. Probably.

Kiki hesitates, like she’s thinking about it. God, he traveled with a rough crowd before, but none of them have a thing on Seiran CEO, Jr. “I didn’t demand satisfaction.”

His lips settle out into a leer. “I could give it to you.”

She snorts, yanking down her helmet. “I doubt it. Now shut up and put your mask on.”

They stand across from each other, and it’s nothing like the movies. Princess might have her pointy stick raised, tip waggling in lazy circles, but Obi barely knows how to hold his. His arm aches holding it out, so he settles for something couched against his ribs, like he’s seen jousters do at renfaires. Sure, that may be with lances, but something this long has to follow the same sort of rules.

By the time he’s got himself settled, the romance has gone right out of this duel. There’s not a blousy shirt to be seen, and not a single person’s had the basic decency to have a fit of the vapors. If this doesn’t somehow end in a double wedding, he’s watched commercials for nothing.

“En garde.” It’s unfair for the Big Guy to be using French like this right now when Obi doesn’t even have the headspace to appreciate it.

“Hey,” he grunts, feeling like even that much is a concession, a whine. He tries to lift his arm up, copying Kiki’s position, and looks like an asshole doing it. No, a pretentious asshole. “I don’t know how to do this. Really.”

“Prêt?” Obi has no idea what that means, but jacked Pepe Le Peu over there makes it sound good. And a little concerned; a complement to the glance he shoots Miss Manslaughter on the other side of the mat. But he doesn’t like, stop them or anything either.

“Just hit me,” she tells him, so helpful.

With one last worried glance between them, M. Sugar Maple swipes his hand down. “Allez.”

For all that sweat, it’s over in a second. No, less, because he barely blinks before he feels the sting, metal thwaping against his sleeve.

Big Guy’s wearing some kind of frown, but his arm lifts anyway, pointing toward the winning side. “Point.”

“No shit,” he grunts, rubbing at his arm. “You think?”

“Come on.” Kiki sashays back to the start, two clean moves and a crouch. “Again. Hit me.”

Here’s the thing: Little Miss Junior CEO might think he’s hopeless, that he’s just some idiot and sweatpants when it comes to walking around this piss thing, but this time, he knows the score. Big Guy says his “Allez,” and all he’s gotta do is be quick--

“Ah.” The stone wall that passes for their ref holds up his hand. “You crossed feet.”

Obi blinks, stopped mid-stride. He’s got long legs, seems a shame not to use them. “What?”

“Your feet,” Big Guy repeats slower, like maybe he’s still speaking French. “One is in front, the other one is in back.”

He glances down at his sneakers. Right, he’s still got, you know, feet. “Yeah. That’s how it usually works.”

“No.” Maple Syrup sighs, darting an annoyed glance at the beekeeper just down the mat. “They stay in the same configuration. You can’t switch them.”

Obi’s not afraid to admit it: he has no idea what the fuck this guy is talking about. “How else do you move?”

Steel slaps him across the chest, wibbling as it pulls away. He turns in time to see Kiki, mask up and grinning. “Fast.”

He may not understand any of this fancy finishing school for ladies bullshit, but the next time Big Guy does his French bit, Obi gets a hit. There’s nothing to it; one little awkward shuffle forward, and he swipes her leg. Easy-peasy.

“ Suck it, princess!” he crows, showboating back to the line. “Take your time!”

“Ah...”

He turns back, and there’s Bullwinkle again, shuffling like he’s got bad news about his squirrel. “That doesn’t actually, hm...”

“No point,” Princess tells him. “It doesn’t count.”

“What?” he squawks, puffing up more than a turkey dinner. “But I got you. Right on the leg!”

“This is saber,” she tells him like it means something. “Hits have to be above the waist.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.” He can’t cross his arms with three feet of business end hanging off of them, but he’s feeling it. Spiritually. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.” He can hear her grin, even if he can’t see it through the mesh. “I didn’t.”

If this was ever fun, it’s really starting to lose its shine now.

“I hit first,” Obi snaps, darting a sharp look over to their ref. Big Guy just sweats, bad news clenched behind his teeth. “It’s my point, right?”

“Ah...” There’s no reason a man like him should wring his hands, should act like he can’t curbstomp him into next week if he gets too rowdy. But here he is, shuffling like he’s broken grandma’s vase. “Well, you didn’t have, er, priority.”

“What?” Obi wrenches his mask up, letting it fall to the mat with nothing more than a small thump. “Priority? What the fuck does that even--”

Old Yeller’s soulful eyes look down at him, ready to be taken out behind the shed. Right, fine, this isn’t this guy’s fault.

He swings on Kiki, wishing the mesh between them didn’t mute his glare. “No one told me that there’s some shitty rule about who hits first. Or moves. Or like, where they fucking stand or whatever.”

“Well there is.” Kiki drops into stance, like her thighs don’t burn from holding herself in a squat for twenty minutes. Like she’s a goddamn machine. “Now again. Unless your stamina can’t keep up?”

It’s a joke. In fact, it’s the exact joke he’d use if he was the one on top, looking down the mats at Her Highness. But he’s got his hackles up, the way they always were when he was just some dumb kid, and he-- he doesn’t have it in him to play another game, not on top of the bullshit one he’s already losing.

“You know what?” He may not know how much these funky little flyswatters cost, but he’s hoping he’s not letting daddy’s Cadillac hit the floor. The last thing he needs is this tantrum costing him more than his pride. “Fuck this.”

“Oh.” She lifts her mask, and she’s-- she’s smug. Like he’s doing just what she planned. Like he’s finally got the message that he doesn’t belong here, surrounded by pristine white walls, like an iPhone turned into a building. “So you are giving up?”

If Big Guy ever looked as disappointed in him as he does in Princess, Obi thinks he might make like a raisin and shrivel. “Kiki.”

“Is it really giving up when I never agreed to play?” Obi wants to make it a joke, wants to keep it light, but instead he just sounds...upset. Like she won’t let him on the fucking jungle gym at recess. “You know, I came down here because I thought you wanted to go a few rounds with me, not because you wanted to fuck with me.”

“I did,” she says, so mild, handing her sword thing off to Mitsuhide like he’s not standing here fucking shaking not even six feet away. “We have been. Five rounds, by my count, not including your penal--”

“No, you dragged me down here to prove a fucking point.” His breath is ragged, and he needs to just get a grip, one whole ass grip before he does something he’ll regret. “Hell if I know what it is, but it’s different.”

Princess might be a good half foot shorter than him, but somehow she stares down at him, jacket flapping open at her throat. “If that’s what you think, then why are you still playing?”

He throws his arms up, last fuck well and truly given. “If you haven’t noticed, princess, I’m not. I’m done with your bullshit rules. I’m out.”

Kiki stills as he pads off the mat, squeaking sneakers really ruining his exit.

“If you think my rules are bullshit,” she calls after him. “Why did you even play by them?”

His head rolls over his shoulder, and he really hopes she feels every incredulous ounce of his stare. “Because you told me to.”

Obi’s fast, but the way she follows him, one moment on that weird piss thing and the next standing across from him-- that’s faster. “Why the fuck did you listen to me?”

There’s a quiver there, the barest hint at emotion. Not that anyone else could tell, not with the way she talks more boardroom than bedroom, but he does. God, where does she get off being angry at him? “Because I thought we were friends, maybe. I dunno.”

She stares up at him, and there’s something there, something vulnerable in those ice queen eyes of hers. “I told you to fight me. I didn’t say you had to do it my way.”

There must be some sign somewhere, one that tells him the net worth he needs to understand a word coming out of her mouth. Because she’s not making a lick of sense to him with a few hundred bucks to his name. “You didn’t tell me I had a choice!”

“There’s always a choice,” she tells him, just like a girl who’s always had one, who had people to fall back on. Big Guy grunts, a breath from interrupting, but she holds up a hand, stopping him. “You’re bigger than me, stronger probably. Definitely more training. You could have taken me any time. Why did you listen to me?”

Maybe he’s having a stroke. Just a whole ass event in his brain, and that’s why he hasn’t heard two words that makes sense in the order she says them. “What was I supposed to do? Did you just want me to toss your sword and deck you?”

“I wanted you to do something,” she growls, her hands rounding into claws at her side. “Anything beside just taking our shit!”

Obi blinks. “What? Is this some kind of kink or--?”

He doesn’t have time to finish. Hell, he barely has time to blink before his back crashes into the mat, a hundred pounds of princess weighing him down. “Wha?”

“Kiki--”

Amateur Ronda Rousey whips around, glaring at Big Guy. “Don’t.”

If he was anywhere in the neighborhood of fighting shape, Obi would be taking advantage of this. He’d have her on her back before she could cry restraining order, showing her just what happens when people get in the ring with him.

But he’s not. Instead he’s trying to remember how breathing works, barely getting enough brain cells together to block the incoming left hook.

“What are you doing?” he grunts, staring at the fist caught in his grip. “Why are you fighting?”

“Why aren’t you?” she growls, shaking him off. “Why do you care so much about doing what we tell you?”

He stares. A good thing, since it’s the only way he sees her other fist coming. This time, he deflects, sending it careening toward the mat. “What are you talking about?”

Kiki glares down at him, and it’s nothing like the dreams that start off this way. He could not be any further from turned on if they were doing this in the campus pond. “You’ve never given a shit about the rules before, so why are you doing it now?”

“Uh, you’re my friends?” He rocks his hips, hoping to knock her onto the mat, but her thighs clamp harder, keeping her seat. Fine, if delicate hints aren’t gonna work, he’ll have to get...unsubtle. “At least, I thought you were! I’m supposed to care about what you think?”

Her wrist is small in his grip; when he goes to catch it, thumb and forefinger touch on the other side. It doesn’t fit with what he knows about her-- sure, she’s got the five-ten model beauty, but princess is built to shoulder girls on the field, not stand in bikinis under waterfalls. Still, he doesn’t let it stop him, shoving it up against her pelvis, right above the weird ass crotch strap she’s got going on with this armored leotard.

It’s enough. Xena’s no slouch when it comes to getting him in a mount, but it’s clear that she doesn’t have the training to fight the roll he tucks them into, pushing her back onto the mat. Her thighs are still clenched, locking around his back, but--

Well, okay, this is definitely getting more like those dreams now.

“What about us?”

Now’s really not the time to be getting distracted. “Huh?”

“We’re supposed to care about you too.” It’s surreal, hearing those words. Especially from Kiki Seiran, a girl he’d seen on tabloid pages long before they exchanged two words in the flesh. But here he is, staring down into eyes as friendly as glaciers, waiting to be sunk. “What you want matters. Or at least, it should.”

He stares, his brain sharing more in common with tuning forks than actual, solid thoughts. “This isn’t about your weird fencing bullshit is it?”

She rolls her eyes, like he’s the stupidest man in the world.

“Oh.” Right, because he is. Because of course this isn’t just some rich girl flex. It’s about-- that. The monkey on his back. “Oh.”

He sits back, dragging the heir to Seiran Holdings with him. “Listen, that’s...that’s not my monkey, not my circus.” No matter what’s been screaming in his ear the past week. “Chief’s the one that makes that call, not me.”

“Really?” The word is scathing from her lips, the sort of burn that needs medical attention more than aloe vera. “You’re okay with leaving Shirayuki with someone else? When Brecker might be there?”

“He’s in jail.” It jumps out of him, all on it’s own: the worst fucking answer. Obi shakes his head. “I mean, Big Guy can handle it, even if he wasn’t. I...”

Trust him. Which is true, shockingly, but he can’t say it. Not when-- when--

Kiki arches one of those perfect eyebrows. “Do you think Shirayuki is okay with that?”

--When that’s not the problem here. “I told you, Chief--”

“Why does Zen make the call when you know better?”

His teeth snap down, close enough to give his tongue a close shave. “Well,” he manages, “he’s the one paying for it.”

“But if he wasn’t.” Her head cocks, and seriously, no one should look that in control on their back. “Who do you think she would ask for?”

His mouth opens, then closes. Opens again. He-- he doesn’t know. Or maybe-- maybe he does, but to say it, to put hope into words and be wrong--

Well, he’s risked his life before, but Obi knows; he’ll never survive risking his heart. “She was there. She didn’t say anything.”

“No one asked. Maybe”-- Kiki’s grin cuts when she gives it, a complement to her words-- “she didn’t know she had a choice.”

Her thighs squeeze, but by the time he realizes what she’s doing, he’s already on his back, two model-perfect hands on either side of his head. Kiki shows teeth when she bends down, murmuring, “Just because Zen’s used to getting what he wants, doesn’t mean you have to give it to him.”

She’s gone in a breath, leaving him to stare up at the glaring light of the fluorescents.

“Well, I’ll give it to you, Princess.” he grunts, listening to his heart race in his chest. “You sure do know how to make a point.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #The Wide Florida Bay #my fic #ans #Kiki really just is not used to people not picking up her points #or rather i think she believes Obi will be like everyone else she's ever met #more interested in keeping his pride than keeping her friendship #and then he's like okay time to do this dumb thing because someone i kinda trust and like asked me #and mitsuhide is like SHUT IT DOWN #and kiki is like 🤔 no no let's see how far he'll take this #i wonder how stupid he really is?#Obi: EXTREMELY

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stillness-in-green · 3 years ago

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MVA In Memoriam (3/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia) (Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party)

Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade

Chapter 229 – All It Takes Is One Bad Day

• The full first page, of Jin getting mobbed by Puppet!Jins, them tearing his mask off, and flinging it and then him away. Saved them a bit of budget, I suppose, but it’s a shame to lose the drama and the violence of Twice having his mask pulled away, since it’s decent foreshadowing (indeed, possibly intentionally so, on Skeptic’s part) for the violent bewilderment he’ll be subject to shortly.

• Re-Destro’s line, “Not when he’s using his meta-ability to puppeteer, unless you want another nagging lecture.” They didn’t keep the first nagging lecture, so of course they wouldn’t keep this. I’m still annoyed, both on general principle and at the loss of RD’s implication that these nagging lectures are a regular occurrence, especially if one tries to bother Skeptic when he’s using his meta-ability. Has RD himself been on the receiving end of one? Possibly so! But you’d be less likely to think so just from the anime.

• Re-Destro’s line, “This allowed our warriors to momentarily hold back and stay out of danger.” Because why would the audience need to know that Skeptic planned for and Re-Destro cares enough to observe something like that lol?? Obviously the MLA is perfectly content to just throw their peoples’ lives away because, whatever, more where that came from! Dammit, anime, the fandom believes this enough as it is without confirmation bias from your cuts!

• Skeptic’s “fufufu” laugh, because the anime is allergic to the MLA having fun.

• The police officer’s line, “Sure, but in a case like this, you’re still to blame.” The rest of the exchange hints at it, of course, but there’s a horrifying callousness to a police officer just saying straight to the face of a teenaged orphan facing his first offense, “Yes, you were obeying the law perfectly and this guy just ran out in front of you, but it’s going on your criminal record anyway, whatever.” A weight the anime lost, and another that makes me very suspicious of the patterns behind what, precisely, was put on the chopping block.[1]

• Jin’s narration, “That police officer couldn’t have known. Me neither.” Demonstrates that Jin doesn’t really hold his fall against the one policeman. It’s a consistent thread with Jin’s character that, while he’s very jaded, he’s not actually vengeful, nor is he looking to enact systemic change. While he’s very defensive of his friends, people who hurt Jin himself are never in any real danger of him coming to collect his pound of flesh in return; he just rolls with it as part of how the world works, in the way of someone who was never given reason to believe any different. This line is a good example of that.

• From Jin’s old employer’s angry rant, deletes the note that the client that called is angry, and that the client said, “That young punk of yours did this!” It’s nothing that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the conversation, but I do I think cutting it loses a sense that this guy is just unloading all of his frustration and fear on Jin. The length of the screed, the extra details—it clearly communicates that Jin’s boss is so angry and upset he’s not paying any real mind to filtering, but just recounting every point of contention the moment they come into his mind.

• In modern society, when you’re someone without roots… Well, not a lot of people can relate to that.” It isn’t just the police that failed Jin; it’s a whole society that’s distrustful of people who don’t have a place in the fabric, and thus are unwilling to try and bring them into it. Like Tenko, there are a thousand little places where someone could have reached out a hand, but no one ever did. The audience can intuit this, but I feel it’s better to be clear about it—it’s not just the legal system that screwed Jin over; it’s every other person that never tried to help him because they were afraid of his eyes or distrusted a guy who had no connections. When Shigaraki comes, he’s not going to be coming for heroes alone; he’ll be coming for this entire tapestry of indifference and timidity.

• Skeptic’s lines, “Hrm? Fighting back? I was sure he’d either flee or cower in place... We didn’t anticipate such unity between them.” This gets at two things. Firstly, and once again, that the MLA did their research; that they came into this with educated expectations and a definite plan. Secondly, an in-character observation of what the arc has been showing the audience all along: that the League isn’t just a disparate gang of hoodlums anymore; that they’re developing real bonds. Those bonds mark them as unusual—Re-Destro comments on it in 223, as did Overhaul in 147; even Mr. Compress remarks disapprovingly on Twice’s “habit” of getting overly attached to people. It’s striking that, even though the MLA knew from Giran’s records that the League was uncommonly well-bonded, Twice’s devotion still fell outside Skeptic’s parameters.[2]

• Again Skeptic’s line, “Now his legs.” The drones don’t actually get this far (though you can see them gearing up for it on the next page), so it’s a reasonable enough cut, but it does emphasize the ludicrous, over-the-top extremes Skeptic in particular is willing to go to in securing what he wants. If, you know, “Kidnap the doubler so we have a method to make copies of the Grand Commander at our leisure,” wasn’t bonkers enough.

• Twice’s line, “Even against Gigantomachia!” It really highlights just how much mental energy Twice has been dedicating to avoiding injury, that he was able to keep it in mind even fighting a foe as overwhelming, and for as extended a period, as Machia. And like, the anime blitzed over the Machia fight so quickly, and with so little visible wear and tear to the League, that it really could have used all the reminders it could find room for about how intense those six weeks were.

• Twice’s line, “I won’t watch a friend die!” Such an important line that the composer named an entire track for it, not that the anime gave us that track in the moment it was clearly scored for. They added in a new line later in the scene which mostly gets the important sentiments back in, but loses out in being slightly less fitting to his breakthrough. See the Additions portion of the write-up on Chapter 230, following.

Framing Shifts

• The policeman in Jin’s flashback looked up at him in the anime, where in the manga, his eyes stay down on his paperwork the entire time. I realize that anime can’t just still-frame every panel of a manga and call it an adaptation,[3] so characters will do things like move and look around in different directions just in the course of inhabiting a room, Still, in this case, it has the effect of making the officer look more alert and engaged than he was in the manga, and given that this whole chunk of backstory is about Jin slipping through the social safety net, it feels appropriate to me that the officer should be completely checked out.

Additions

• A new shot of Jin(s) in his pre-massacre doppelganger army days. Didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know—it’s little more than a new angle of the gang in the truck—but it was nice to see.

Bonus Note

• They left Re-Destro’s phrase, “My company,” alone when he was talking about the micro-transceivers Skeptic was using. That’s accurate to the manga, but I’d like to remind everyone that, at that point in the anime, viewers whose only reference is the anime itself have no idea that Re-Destro is a businessman. The show skipped the commercial, RD’s intro, the dinner scene where his company comes up, and Giran’s association of RD with Detnerat; it will further go on to skip Shigaraki recognizing him from the commercial. The news report mentioning Detnerat was ten full episodes prior to Episode 110, and was followed up on in not the faintest degree. For heaven’s sake, would it have been so hard to have Hirata Hiroaki say, “My Detnerat’s,” instead of just, “My company’s”?

Chapter 230 – Sad Man’s Parade

• Deleted the MLA members that are attacking Compress as they get pushed off by the Twice wave. Not the first time, and not the last, that the anime didn’t animate the random MLA people on the street. It’s hard to take the threat of their numbers seriously when the anime kept deleting them from what are supposed to be crowd scenes, you know?

• Mr. C thinking worriedly about Dabi as he’s mulling over Geten’s strength and disregard for catching his own people in the collateral damage. It’s just a, “Dabi—!” but it’s yet another tiny cut that shaves away at the manga’s clear depiction of Leagues’ concern for one another—even Mr. Compress, who claims that such things aren’t very villainous.

Framing Shifts

• Changed the random MLA’s exhortation to kill all the Twices to a generic, “Damn—!” I know American censors have often taken issue with the words “Kill” and “Die” in kids’ cartoons, but I was never of the impression that that was the case in Japan. And it’s not like the show made any bones about Curious planning to kill Toga. A rephrase to save a second and a half on dialogue, maybe?

• Had Skeptic give his lines about failure on the way over to the elevator instead of stalking over in silence, and then dumping the whole monologue all at once. The manga’s extended silence over three identically sized panels is much funnier and more characterful. I grow ever more confident in my assessment of Skeptic as the second-most ill-treated MLA character in this adaptation.

• The return of the Doom Choirs for the Twice Parade. I really wish the anime would lay off slathering Doom Choirs all over everything, especially a moment like this: a triumph for Twice, and, true to form for Twice, also crammed to the gills with visual and verbal gags. The Doom Choir is out of keeping with both the victory and the comedy—Mine Woman, later on, served the Parade much better.

Additions

• Gave Twice a new line, “I will protect my comrades!” It was nice to make up for his, “I won’t watch a friend die!” but the latter is more characterful, especially since a more literal translation is, “I won’t kill my friends!” Which is, you know, relevant to the fact that Twice has problems telling himself apart from things that just look like him, and he just had to intervene to stop some of those look-alikes from killing one of said friends. At least it got his use of nakama back in.[4]

• A new little cut of animation as the action went back to Geten and Dabi. I suppose the Dabi fans liked it, and it was nice to see more of Geten’s ice dragon, but I’d have much preferred they could keep the scenes we already have before adding new ones.

Chapter 231 – Path

The scene of Hawks wondering why he hasn’t heard from Dabi and his subsequent flashback to the last time they spoke were relocated to the beginning of Episode 102, the first thing the audience saw after the prior episode ended with Shouto inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at Endeavor’s. In the manga, of course, it’s not “a few weeks ago in Kyushu,” it’s “meanwhile in Osaka.” Also, the order of the scenes was flipped—the episode led with the flashback, then returned to the modern day. It really makes the timeline needlessly confusing—the viewer has no real context for what we’re seeing and when, especially since the anime neglected to specify how much time passed between the two scenes. You have to assume it was enough time for an outcry to be raised over Jeanist’s disappearance, but the random shot of a bird flying over was not at all helpful there.

Alterations included (as usual, outright removed material is in bold text):

1. Cut Hawks’ thought, “That’s why you keep calling,” and his line, “What’s the job?” I know I should give a breakdown here about Hawks’ mentality and training, but I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to complain about any lines Takami Keigo loses. God knows the anime gives him plenty enough bonus material.

2. Spliced in the flashback scene of Hawks reporting to the Commission from Chapter 243, but subtly changed it to suggest that it took place after the phonecall in which Dabi demanded Hawks kill a non-Endeavor top hero, rather than it taking place right after Hawks and Dabi’s first contact, which is what the manga implies.

3. Deleted several key shots in the Jeanist apartment scene, with the effect of making Hawks way less creepy. We got an anime-original shot of his eyes, narrow and serious, but not either of the shots of his big, off-putting grin and widened eyes as he pulls a feather-blade on Jeanist. We also lost a shot of Jeanist turning to face him, framed between extended primaries of Hawks’ Fierce Wings. It’s not like the anime dropped the fake!Dead Jeanist plot, so I’m not sure why the shift, unless it’s just that they wanted to keep Hawks likable for the merch-buying crowd, not creepy and unsettling. And while I personally never believed that Hawks really killed Jeanist, a lot of people thought it was plausible, no doubt based on how off-kilter he comes across in this scene. It loses a real frisson, to just play it straight.

• Shigaraki decaying a missile in mid-air. So Dabi can get those little animation flourishes but Tomura can’t, huh, anime? I see how it is. I. See. How. It. Is.

• Spinner’s little side comment about all the ice everywhere. A nice demonstration that Geten and Dabi’s fight really is affecting huge swathes of the city; that’s certainly apparent already in a bunch of the wide shots showing exactly that, but it’s helpful to have the more zoomed-in moments, too. Also, I do enjoy those little side quips wherever we get them, and the anime often removes them.

• Thinned out the crowd guarding the route to the tower somewhat (it’s particularly noticeable on the mid-distance rooftops) and, as best I can tell, removed Shigaraki and Spinner from the shot. Why keep all the lines harping on the 110,000 number when a) it’s not even accurate to the MLA’s forces, just the League’s assumptions, and b) the studio doesn’t even have the resources to adequately convey the numbers the manga does portray?

• Somebody in the crowd being defiant about Twice’s multiplication and vigorously declaring that the League are all just sacrifices for the MLA’s Revival Party anyway. The background nobodies? Allowed to express even bog-standard over-confidence? Well I never. How dare those people think their lives count enough for them to get dialogue.

• Spinner’s, “This keeps happening!” Of course he couldn’t have that line in the anime, since the anime cut the other big place Trumpet clearly used his power to rile up his followers. What other times were you even talking about when you said, “Every time he talks,” Anime!Spinner? That scene was the first time we even saw Trumpet since he welcomed you guys to town.

• Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. He just called him a damn moron (bakayarou) in the anime; he uses the considerably more specific baka kyouso (Google Translate gives “guru”; jisho gives “founder of a religious sect”). He uses the same term again immediately afterward—Viz’s translation gives, “More like chrome dome cult!”—which the anime also deleted.

So here��s another example of the anime doing everything it could to erase the presence of cults in the HeroAca world. The easy assumption to make is that this was tied to broadcast standards about the depiction of what Japan refers to as “new religious movements,” which—and pardon the brief swerve into real life historical horrors here—have been very unpopular in Japan since Aum Shinrikyo and the sarin gas attacks in 1995. But were these elements removed because the anime didn’t want to represent anything that smacks of new religious movements at all, or because the depiction of both the MLA and particularly the CRC are explicitly villainous and calling religious movements, even made-up ones, evil on TV leads to a lot of angry phone calls?

• Re-Destro’s line, “Unlike my good Miyashita, there’s nothing charming about you.” Of course they’d cut this, having cut the Miyashita scene, but I hate it anyway. As I said earlier, RD’s invocation of Miyashita in front of two people who are going to have not the slightest clue who that is tells me that Re-Destro really does miss and feel bad about killing the guy. Cutting the reminder that RD still feels that sting makes it much too easy to assume that Shigaraki’s right about RD hiding up in his tower, uncaring of the blood shed on his behalf, when if you read Re-Destro with even the slightest of attempts at good faith, it’s clear that those losses weigh very heavily on him.

Incidentally, and not to harp on the art again, but in the manga, Stress is still visibly spread down from RD’s temple to the ridge of his brow over his eye socket. The anime returned it back to its normal resting state, again suggesting that the death toll mounting in the streets below (as well as, possibly, the new stress of confronting a quirk as powerful as Double) left RD completely unmoved. The spread was back in the following shot, so it was probably just an art error, but it would be nice to have had fewer of those, especially when they impact characterization as much as what RD’s Stress blots are doing at any given time.

Framing Shifts

• Had Machia doing this weird cannonball skim just over the ground, when in the manga, he’s still half-buried, spraying earth and stone everywhere. The manga never namedrops Machia’s Mole quirk during the story itself, but it’s important to know for later that Machia can not only tear through obstacles, he can tear through obstacles extremely quickly.

Additions

• Gave Hawks a few new lines about how too many unexpected things happened for their last arrangement, and that Dabi should have given him more warning. Largely seemed to be there to give the anime an excuse to flashback to the High End fight, in case the viewers had completely forgotten about Hawks and Dabi having a clandestine meeting and sniping at each other in the aftermath of that event. An understandable addition, but deeply frustrating in the context of all the lines that got cut.

Chapter 232 – Meta Abilities and Quirks

• Dropped a third instance of Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. I don’t know what the S&P restriction is on this, but given that the movie was allowed to create and villainize an entire international terrorist cult, it is really incomprehensible that the MLA doesn’t get to keep their designation as such. Why?? Because the movie involves going out and defeating its cult, but the series is going to engage in a more sympathetic treatment?[5] Because the self-selecting movie crowd is less likely to complain than the TV audience? Did they just not want to draw attention to how much the movie was ripping off the MLA’s whole shtick? What??

• Missed that RD’s swole arm swipe wipes out the puppets Skeptic left behind; they just vanished from the scene entirely after Twice’s arrival. It’s hard to blame the anime for this; the manga also seems to lose track of the fact that they’re right there in between RD and the elevator—they’re nowhere to be seen anywhere between the end of Chapter 231 and the aforementioned arm swipe, where you can see them getting obliterated. Both versions could have stood to be more attentive to this; indeed, the anime could have fixed it, small error though it is.

• A sort of twitchy sparking around Shigaraki’s hand right after he decays the tower. This is foreshadowing that Shigaraki’s big AOE decay attacks are hard on his body, which will become extremely apparent after he unleashes it on the city at large during the climax, and factors into his decision to accept the mysterious power Ujiko offers. The damage Shigaraki sustains there doesn’t come out of nowhere; Horikoshi is, on the whole, extremely good at layering in foreshadowing many chapters before the foreshadowed elements come fully to light. It makes the writing look much messier than it actually is—more convenient, more pat—to delete this stuff.

• Shigaraki recognizing RD from the Detnerat commercials. Well, they ditched the Detnerat commercial, so of course they ditched this. Still, it lost one of the indicators that Shigaraki is, despite not receiving a formal education, actually quite up to speed on current events—even, apparently, when those current events are happening while he’s been fighting Machia in an isolated stretch of mountains for six weeks! I already suffer enough through fanon characterizations of Shigaraki in which he’s a basement-dwelling feral manchild glued to his gaming console whom AFO bans from accessing information about the outside world, anime! I don’t need you dropping the scenes that most clearly demonstrate otherwise!!

• In the anime, Baby!Chikara’s face was unmarked, just a normal infant face—you’d never even know the kid had a meta-ability just to look at him. In the manga, the skin of his face is clearly darker, contrasted against the paleness of his mother’s hand. It’s obvious that he’s not “normal” looking, and thus equally obviously would have attracted negative attention in his era.[6] Also had his mother smiling; her face in the manga is too shadowed and vague to make out an expression, befitting the murky tragedy of her story and the fear she must have been living with.

Framing Shifts

Additions

• A little thing: they had Twice echo, “Cushion?” when Clone!Shigaraki told him to get ready to cushion Giran’s fall. If anything, Re-Destro and his little thought-bubbled question mark is probably the one who should have had this reaction line.

• Added a visual for Clone-araki catching himself on the window. A perfectly reasonable way to fill screen time while a dialogue beat was ongoing.

• Added a panning still over a reaction shot from a bunch of Twice clones when the tower came down. It had a few good faces in it.

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So, generally, this episode was better. I definitely still had issues with it, but compared to what came before, when they were trying to cram 5+ chapters into the episodes, there were far fewer cuts, and what cuts and tweaks there were, were relatively minor. Definitely nothing that made me want to throw chairs Jerry Springer-style the way 108 and 109 did.

Sadly, I can't say the same for the remaining two episodes. Come back next time for Part Four, Episode 111: Shimura Tenko, Origin.

FOOTNOTES

[1] After witnessing the massacre that was Episode 108, I was convinced they were going to cut the policeman scene entirely, and just go right to Jin getting fired for hitting someone with his bike, letting the audience think it was his fault completely rather than cast aspersions on police and the justness of the law. I was pleased they kept it at all, but less pleased with the steps taken to soften the sharpness of its accusation.

[2] Of course, it’s not like the MLA themselves don’t understand the willingness to give everything for the people who matter. They just label those feelings Devotion To The Cause, and don’t think the League is capable of such resolution.

[3] Netflix’s Way of the House Husband, be told.

[4] Nakama is, of course, a shonen standby, but, to the best of my knowledge (which is admittedly limited; I don’t follow a lot of shounen series), it’s pretty rare to hear the word coming out of a villain’s mouth! Jin calling the League his nakama ties into how the League are both sympathetic villains in the larger story and also the protagonists of the current arc, thereby operating under a lot of protag tropes for the duration—foreshadowed by Spinner’s earlier talk of Shigaraki and his boyish, dream-chasing eyes.

[5] Sometime after the mass arrests, one hopes.

[6] This could well be a coloring error in the manga, but if so, you’d think they’d have corrected it for the volume release. Especially given that, again, the color is in a different shade/screentone than the shadow that covers most of his mother’s face, and her hand stroking Chikara’s chin isn’t shadowed at all.

#my villain academia #bnha #bnha meta #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my writing #stillness has salt

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