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#the find out chapter is next
the-ominous-owl · 1 year
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who need comfortable love - part 2
They stop, eventually, at a tiny travellers’ motel on the outskirts of Florence. Ava wakes groggily to the feeling of Beatrice’s hand running up and down her back, the soft wash of her breath across Ava’s skin as she murmurs her name. Ava’s face is tucked against Bea’s neck, her heartbeat a faint, comforting echo of Ava’s own against her cheek, and Ava groans softly at the thought of moving from that cosy little hollow. But beyond her little bubble, Ava can feel the car slowing to a stop, and between her innate curiosity and Bea’s quiet coaxing, she manages to talk herself into raising her head. The weird, buzzing hum is still vibrating at the base of her skull, and it strikes an oddly disappointed note as Ava opens her eyes and blinks sleepily around.
The first thing she sees is Beatrice’s gentle smile, inches away. The hum drops its melancholy undertone.
read on Ao3
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reds-skull · 5 months
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Anatomy is one of the biggest thing I need to work on, so why not do it while drawing these two fuckers.
Tried to focus just on the sketch/lineart, so no shading on this one...
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sad-leon · 28 days
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some finding home au incorrect quotes <3
thank you tea for sending me some of these in discord, and the last one was yoinked from a pm seymour video :P
Link to the au if anyone's curious
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minty364 · 1 month
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DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 3
Gotham Academy High School was the sort of school where almost everyone was elite in some way or another. Some of them were from old money like Damian who held himself up to a very high standard in his academics and was the top of the class. Others from new money like Dash and the rest of his cohorts became very hateful of somebody like Danny who was given a scholarship by Bruce Wayne, in their eyes Danny was taking advantage of Damian not even knowing that Damian approached Danny for companionship two years ago.
This also meant that everyone including the teachers would compare Danny and Damian to each other even though they weren’t brothers. That didn’t matter though as Danny was associated with them so that was all the reason they needed.
Danny groaned as he sunk into the seat next to Damian. The lunchroom was filled with chatting students and Danny was glad he shared the next class with Damian, which happened to be English. Dash never bothered Danny when Damian was around, probably because Damian had threatened the jock. How he was threatened Danny didn’t know, Damian never told him what happened and he was a little scared to ask. 
The guy hadn’t stopped harassing Danny since he and Jazz transferred a couple years ago. The school year had barely begun and Dash had made Danny his primary target like he was making up for lost time over the summer. Danny sighed as he dropped his paper bagged lunch on the table with a little plop. Jazz had packed for him this morning hopefully before his parents arrived and contaminated the entire kitchen.
“Dash again?” his sister asked across the table, she was seated next to Tim.
“I was paired against him in dodgeball again,” Danny lamented, his head resting on his arms that were crossed on the table.
“Danny, could you just talk to Mr. Lancer or something?” Jazz asked before she took a bite from her sandwich.
Danny sighed again and unpacked his lunch, “I have but no one will listen! They all act like I’m lying or something.” The teachers at this school probably wouldn’t listen to a charity case like him. Dash was a football player and had plans to become captain of the team. Everyone at the school loved Dash and it was precisely why everyone except maybe the four students at the table they were seated looked down and sometimes even bullied Danny.
Danny ignored it all eventually, it was better just to let the jock tire himself out. 
Once Danny and Damian finished eating they made their way to English. Luckily it was easy to carry the material for a class that only required a small binder and whatever book they were reading, in this case it was ‘gone with the wind’. Danny didn’t really care about reading old literature like this but he did what he had to maintain the grades he had. He’d endure anything, even Dash’s bullying, to become an astronaut.
Danny could hardly concentrate today through his afternoon classes. For some reason he had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. He tried his best to ignore it, he was probably just tired or something. Soon the school day was out and Danny packed up whatever homework he had for the day and headed outside to wait with Jazz. Damian and Tim were probably wrapping up their classes. Tim had an AP class that ran an extra 30 minutes and Damian’s last class was art, they were doing a painting and it wasn’t unusual for Damian to finish up what he was working on as he found out over the last few years that he enjoyed painting.
“… Do you think it’ll work?” Jazz asked a hint of hesitation in her voice. Danny knew she was talking about the portal, the both of them had talked about it before. Danny glanced over at his sister, he could tell she was having trouble sleeping lately, her face looked tired and her posture was stiff with her arms crossed in front of her. Both of them had anxiety about the possibilities the portal possessed, and they were especially worried that their parents wouldn’t take it well if the portal didn’t work. 
He was equally concerned that it would work. “I hope not…” he said eventually. It was something that brought the siblings closer as the whole of their family fell apart. How their parents managed to pull off getting the funding in the first place seemed to be a miracle. Everyone called their parents crazy and dismissed all of their science as ludicrous garbage.
Danny wondered how they even managed to stay under Batman's radar, he thought that something like this would be cause for the vigilante to look into it but maybe the thought of ghosts was just that outlandish that even the dark knight himself thought it to be crazy too. Danny himself didn’t believe in anything his parents published, some of the papers even seemed to be biased somehow, even though his parents hadn’t ever actually encountered a ghost. That last part was probably the reason no one bothered to actually investigate his parents, there wasn’t really much to investigate.
The siblings waited in silence and eventually Tim and Damian showed up after their classes and the four headed to Alfred waiting by the car. 
If anyone tried to start a conversation with Danny he wasn’t paying attention. If he was being honest, his parents' portal scared him a lot. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous about it, both him and Jazz renounced the thought that ghosts could exist. Something deep down in his guts told him that he should turn and run, that what his parents were attempting was taboo and that his parents were tampering with forces unimaginable. 
No one was going to listen to a fourteen year old though so Danny kept his feelings to himself and ignored them. 
Soon they were pulled in front of their apartment and true to their word, Damian and Tim asked Alfred to park nearby. Danny and Jazz took a hesitant glance at each other as they walked into the house. 
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plush-rabbit · 1 year
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Simmering and Smothering
Part 2 to It’s Always Coffee
Word Count: 7K
A/N: I’m soft for this guy rn. He’s so !!! Anyways, I um don’t know what else to say
- You stand with a group of people, a lanyard hangs from your neck, and you pinch at the plastic cover that holds a card reading “Visitor” stuck on it. People part of the group peek through windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the wonders behind the glass. You're sure at some point you saw Dr. Ohnn standing close to a coworker. He must have felt your gaze, because he looked up and you had to fist your hand to restrain yourself from waving at him. But when the scientist beside him puts their hand on his back, returning his attention to the project in front, you find yourself digging your nails into the flesh of your palms.
You look around, but nothing catches your eye as it should at Alchemax. While you knew that they wouldn’t show a tour group all the dark and gritty experiments, a part of you wishes that you were able to slip away to explore, but any chances of that were snuffed out with a warning at being kicked out and banned should you stray. However, you do enjoy getting to step foot into the building. The group is led through glass doors, and you hear a few people sigh in relief. Walking in, windows line the room and let in a nice glow of sun. 
“Okay,” Dr. Octavius says with a clap of her hands, “this is the cafeteria where we will be having lunch. Those tables over there-” she points over to a cluster of tables that have been protected with stanchions- “will be where you all will be eating. Lunch is one hour, and if anyone needs to go to the restroom, please contact a security guard.” Her gaze is friendly, smile wide and tone with the slightest hint of superiority, she speaks to all, before her gaze lands on you, her smile falling ever-so-slightly. “If you fail to inform a guard, and are caught wandering, you will be immediately removed from the premises.” Smiling, you give her an “okay” symbol, and in response, she looks away from you. “Okay!” She chirps, taking a step to the side, she sweeps her arms towards the selection of food. “Enjoy your lunch.”
You’re at a cart, holding a tray consisting of fruits, and a bottle of juice. You peer over the selection of bread, holding a saran wrapped bagel. You pull your mouth into a line, wanting to put it back, but unsure if that’s okay to do so. Sure, it’s saran wrapped, but what if it’s not okay to place things back. You’ve already picked it up, and with a sigh, you place it on your tray. You look over the rest of the selection of the grains, and perk up at the sight of a muffin. Happily, you reach to grab at it before your wrist is grabbed at.
“Hey-” You bark out, pulling your hand out of the grasp and turning to look at whoever it was that clutched your wrist. You stop short when you realize that it’s Dr. Ohnn. “I feel like we talked about appropriate ways to greet others,” you muse, grabbing at the saran wrapped muffin. 
“What are you doing here?” he hisses, and you frown. 
Your eyes scan his face, and you fold the tray closer to you. “You’re upset,” you conclude, tilting your head with furrowed brows. 
“Of course I am,” he hisses. Your ears begin to burn, and you look around the cafeteria, many of the patrons sitting down and ignoring you- including the tour group you are a part of. When you look back at him, he continues. “Why are you here?”
“I’m part of the tour.” You jerk your head over where your tour members sit behind the stanchions. “Fisk was promoting it- something to show off Alchemax and how family-friendly it is. But if you ask me, I think it’s just a cover to stop people from asking-”
“I don’t care,” he rushes. 
You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay, you don't have to be rude.” His eyes widen, and his shoulders rise. He opens his mouth, but you press forward. “Listen, I paid my way in, okay? If you’re upset with it, then I don’t know what to tell you.” He stays silent and you look back to your group. Turning back to him, you start. “Is that all, Dr. Ohnn? May I go sit down, or do you want to continue reprimanding me?”
He opens and closes his mouth, and when you turn on your heel, he calls your name. You turn to him with a waiting look. “I apologize.” You encourage him with a nod of your head. “I just-” he looks around, and grabs your wrist, pulling you to another station of food, grabbing a tray, and standing in front of the selection of fruits. 
“You just?”
“I hadn’t thought that you would be here. I-” with his middle finger, he pushes up his glasses by the bridge- “I wasn’t aware there was a tour going on.”
“Does that matter?” You ask, grabbing at a cup of peeled mandarins. 
“Scientists are usually the one to lead groups,” he says quietly, "due to the fact that it is our projects we are showcasing. We all take turns with it given that leading groups take time away from our projects. This should have been a group that I would have led. Dr. Octavius must have seen your name on the roster and decided to lead it for the day.” He gives you a look. “I’m surprised that she let you in.”
“I paid,” you shrug. “She isn’t happy about it or anything, but-” you end it with a shrug. “Anyways, I won’t bother your lunch or anything. I’m simply here to see the building and enjoy lunch.” You give him a smile as you lift up your tray. “Have a good day Dr. Ohnn.” You nod your head, ready to walk away before he stops you.
“Do you have to sit down with the others?” You turn to him, and look at him quizzically. “We um- We never finished our conversation from the other day.”
You tighten your grip on the tray. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “You kinda left without exchanging numbers. But I don’t think I’m allowed to sit elsewhere.” You look back at your group. “I’d invite you to sit with me, but I’m not sure if I could give you quite a riveting conversation as your work buddies.”
“You can. You have,” he says so, without any hesitation. “Our last conversation was entertaining.” 
"You think so?" 
He opens his mouth, before being interrupted by someone calling his name. "Jonathan," calls someone far too cheery from the door. A few heads turn to watch as another scientist- you think that they look familiar- and turn back around once the scientist enters the cafeteria. They turn on their heel to wave at another and it clicks- it's the scientist that touched his back.
You look back to the doctor, giving him a raised look. He has a sort of flush that colors in his face, and you purse your lips together. 
The scientist walks toward the both of you, but their attention is solely on Jonathan. "Jonathan-" they say his name with a sickly sweet tone- "I thought you were going to wait for me so we can have lunch together." They smile brightly at the other and you watch as they reach over to squeeze at his bicep. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"
"My apologies, Dr. Owens." You don't miss the way that he refers to the scientist by their last name while they refer to him by his first. A frown tugs at corner of your lips- they refer to him by his first name. You glance between the two and a pit settles in your stomach. "I hadn't forgotten, but I got distracted. It must have slipped my mind."
"You don't normally get distracted," they note, and their eyes dart at you. With the consequence of being acknowledged, you smile at them. "Ah. Part of the tour group, huh? No wonder you bothered our precious doctor." They're far too sweet with their words, it makes you uncomfortable. You open your mouth to apologize, but they continue on. “I was wondering if we could get the chance to go over our notes?” You feel as if you're in the middle of something. Standing besides Dr. Owens, you feel unsure of yourself. You clear your throat. They turn to you, and their smile is beaming. “Ah, I didn't mean to interrupt. While I’m sure Dr. Ohnn would love to engage with others about theories and his work, I do have to steal him away from you.” Their smile turns gentle, and you feel silly standing between them. “Sorry,” they apologize with a smile. 
"Uh, yeah." You grit your teeth- that came out less eloquently than you would liked. "Sorry, Dr. Ohnn." You tap your heel against the ground. “I’ll leave you to it.”
"Oh- Um-” he looks at you, and you smile at him, shrugging your shoulders. He returns his look towards the other scientist, and you let your gaze drift down. You walk away, catching only a glimpse of their conversation. “What would you like to discuss?”
Sitting down at a designated table, the other tour members greet you. You smile and pick at your bagel, taking small bites, regretting not getting some kind of topping. You bite at your muffin, nodding along as the other group members talk about the experiments going on at the building. 
It would make sense for him to have a partner. He's attractive, and has a good job. With the one conversation that you've had with him, he was well spoken. You eat your mandarins, letting the citrus fill your mouth. Dr. Owens isn’t unattractive and they certainly seemed nice. You do your best not to look at the doctor and his partner, keeping your head down as you listen to the other people in your group. 
You know why you feel so bothered by it all. It’s dumb. You only had one actual conversation with him, but it was nice. He was nice- much nicer than you had ever given him credit for. You feel silly over being jealous of a man you only knew for a minute. 
-
"Fuckin' driver," you mutter under your breath, your lips curled in disgust. Fixing yourself, you cross your arms and decide to walk to the train station. It's incredibly late and something that you actively avoid doing, but you don't want to risk yourself with another driver. "Now I gotta walk." 
A part of you pays with the idea of putting in your headphones and at least having a calming walk, but you shake your head at that idea. You will not be murdered just because you wanted to listen to music. 
Headlights flash by and you bite the inside of your mouth every time. A car passes by, and you watch as the red tail lights blink on. You stop in your steps, taking a look around. No one else on the sidewalk acknowledges the car. 
“Okay”, you think to yourself, “I can't get abducted in front of other people.” You take a step forward and pause. “That's dumb. Yes, I can.” You scowl and tap your foot against the pavement, holding tighter onto the strap of your bag. 
However, no one else seems fazed by a car pulling over, and that gives you confidence to walk further. At the end of the car, you see the passenger window roll down. You hesitate again. Sucking in a breath, you roll your wrists, and as you walk past the car until you hear your name being called. 
You turn, and through the windshield, you see a familiar doctor waving at you. Looking around, you clutch onto the trap of your bag before making your way towards him.
"Dr. Ohnn?" 
He smiles nervously. He looks far too tense for someone in their own car. "Hello," he calls you by your name. "I was sure you would have left ages ago."
"Tour ran late- one of the kids explored without permission," you explain. 
"I'm surprised it wasn't you." You weren't aware he could tease. 
"I wasn't in the mood for any trespassing charges. Maybe tomorrow." You shrug, and send him a grin. “Who knows? Night’s still young and all.”
He turns his head, and you follow his gaze out onto the street before the both of you. "Why are you walking?"
“People had their own rides, and I didn't. I took the bus. After the whole fiasco, I missed it. I got into a taxi, but uh-" you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest- "the driver was being too sleazy for my tastes so I decided to take my chances walking.” 
“Oh- I’m sorry to hear about that.” He leans over the middle console of the car, with his hand pressed down on the passenger seat. “It’s quite late,” he tells you.
Your lips stretch into a thin grin. “Correct. It’s no wonder that you’re one of the top scientists at Alchemax.”
“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans.
“I try,” you tell him. The soft glow of the streetlamps casts him in a warm glow. “But I'd be more inclined to believe you if you were actually laughing.”
“Yes, well, I’ll try to laugh next time.” He rolls his eyes, and you smile sharply at him. 
“Is that why you stopped? To hear my humor?” You tease, taking a step forward, and he tilts his head to look at you. 
“No, actually. I thought it was you,  and I wanted to know if you would like a ride?”
You’re taken aback. “Oh! Um- No, it’s okay. I’m okay,” you correct yourself. You turn looking down the street where the crowd of people slows. You look back at him. “I’m sure you have your own plans for the night. I wouldn’t want to intrude or interrupt or anything.” You twist the strap of your bag in your hand. “While I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to worry about me Dr. Ohnn.”
“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything. I don’t have any plans.” 
You stay silent, weighing your options in your head. While you’d like to be in a car and taken to your home, you also can’t just enter his car. Even if he is the one offering. No. You can’t. There has to be a line. You have a crush on him- maybe. You’re attracted to him. Wait, that’s actually worse. You shake your head.
“I shouldn’t.” You bite your bottom lip and look at the air freshener that hangs down the rearview mirror. “I would want to get you into any sorts of trouble.”
“Trouble?” He says in a quiet voice, but alarm is still laced into his words. 
“You know-” you wave your hand in front of you- “with Dr. Owens. Would they be okay with you giving me a ride?”
He gives you an incredulous look. “What does Dr. Owens have to do with this?”
Your chest begins to burn, and it travels upwards to your face. “Would they appreciate you giving a ride to a stranger?” 
“You aren’t a stranger,” the way that he calls your name has your breath hitching, and heart racing. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you walking so far to a station at night.”
“Okay,” you shrug. “But you have to put in the directions on your phone. I’m easily distracted and won’t be able to give you any good directions.”
“Fine by me,” he pulls away and the door unlocks. You open the door, and the window slowly raises. “Between you and I, I’m not entirely great with navigation.” The noise from the outside mutes as you close the door, the lock clicking down on itself.  You click the seatbelt as you give him a look. “I get lost easily,” he admits. He grabs his phone and sorts through his applications, finally passing it your way with the map function on display.
“Don’t you have a PhD?” You enter your address, and return the phone, watching as he places the phone on the holder stuck to the car. 
“Doesn’t mean a thing if a shopping center has me turned all sorts of ways,” he admits, setting the car to ‘drive’ and pulling away from the sidewalk. You laugh, it starts as a snort, and forms into a chuckle and it has you hiding your smile behind your hand, trying to quell the laughter. 
You turn to look at him, the corner of your lips tilting upwards and wrinkling at your eyes. “I don’t even think I could picture you getting lost in a mall.”
He sits up straighter, and casts a glance through the corner of his eye. “It isn’t a particularly good image of me,” he confesses.
Humming, you lean back into the seat, fixing your bag onto your lap, playing with the zipper. “No, I’m sure it is,” you hum. “A renowned scientist, lost at a mall.”
“It can be quite traumatizing.”
“I’m sure it can be,” you muse, trying to hide the smile that slowly grows. "Many children often fear the mall for that same reason." 
He scoffs at your remark. “Did you learn anything interesting on the tour?” He asks, and you cross your ankles.
“I think we learned about atoms?” He chuckles at that, and you feel warm. “I gotta be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more, ya know?” 
“Atoms aren't enough?” 
"Not nearly,” you tell him softly. “Maybe if they brought out some secret project or like showed some sort of light show, then I’d be impressed.”
“Oh, of course,” he says with sarcasm laced into his words. “A secret project shown to the masses, especially where one child had gone missing.”
“Explored,” you correct, turning our head to look at him.
The GPS voice speaks, and he misses a turn. He mumbles an apology, the application already rerouting him. “If you join another one, I’ll make sure that there’s a light show.” He casts a glance, and misses another turn, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m thirsty,” he tells you.
You blink at him. “You can stop somewhere and get something. I don’t mind waiting in the car.” The metal zipper of your bag shines under the passing streetlamps.. “You’re already doing me a favor by driving me home.”
“The coffee shop is still open. Would you mind accompanying me for a drink?”
“Oh! Uh, yeah- sure. I’d be okay with that. I still owe you that cup of coffee. You know, from when we met at the shop?”
He shakes his head. “Consider it my treat. I am inviting you after all.”
“But you did win that little wager, and you are driving me home. I could at least buy you a cup of coffee or something.” He shakes his head. “Come on-” you slap the back of your hand lightly against his bicep- “don’t make it difficult.”
“I’m not making it difficult,” he frowns.
The GPS continues to tell Dr. Ohnn to make a right when he can, and he fumbles with turning it off, grumbling under his breath until you offer your hand out. The phone is placed down, and you shut down the application. The phone is held in your hand, the application minimizing to show his background- a picture of- the phone is pulled out of your grasp.
“I don’t even get to learn what your background is?” You give a faux pout, leaning back against the seat. “Come on, I didn’t even get a chance.”
“Don’t worry too much about it,” he tells you. “It isn’t all that exciting.” You stick your tongue out at him in response and he fails to suppress a smile. 
Pulling to the side of the road, you place your bag on the floor, snagging your debit card before zipping the bag up. Getting out of the car, you’re careful not to slam the door. You rush to beat him from opening the door. “Okay,” you draw out the vowel, slipping to move in front of him, “how about this. You buy my cup, and I’ll buy yours. I’ll even let you get a pastry- you know as a thank you for driving me home.
“You don’t have to. I offered to drive you home, it was completely my own volition.”
You give an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever you say, but the offer is there.”
As he orders his drink, you press your card against the payment terminal, telling the barista that it’ll be two separate transactions. You can feel his eyes on you and you can only smile, nodding when the barista confirms. Lacking your energy, he pays when you order your own. You’re sure that the barista is annoyed with the two of you, but at this point, you had a win that he was owed. 
With the lack of patrons, the two of you find a table placed beside the window. The two of you sit across from each other, and wait for your drinks to be called. Tapping your hands against the table, you look out the window, watching the people and the cars. 
“I was more than happy paying for your drink,” he comments. 
You look at him through the reflection, and he meets your gaze there. “I know. But you’re already doing me such a favor by taking me home and stuff-” shrugging, you turn to face him- “might as well buy you a drink.”
“You didn’t have to,” he mumbles.
“I wanted to.”
Looking at you, he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when he can’t find the right words. You nod, letting him take his time and to continue with whatever he is going to say. Clearing his throat, he can only get a breath out when the two of your names are spoken. You turn just in time to see the drinks placed on the counter as the barista walks away.
“I’ll go get them for us.” He stands from the table and you watch him. He takes long strides, his head bent and arms close to himself, as if trying to make himself to the public. You hadn’t realized that he had such squared shoulders. He almost reminds you of a rectangle.
Placing your drink in front of you, he takes a seat. His teeth bite at his bottom lip and he brings the cup to his lips. Placing the drink down, he clears his throat. “Why did you ask about Dr. Owens?”
Ah. Maybe you should’ve kept quiet about that. “What do you mean?”
“You mentioned that I would get in trouble with them if I had driven you home.”
“Oh um, yeah. It’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worrying, I’m asking.”
“Okay,” you whisper, your gaze focused on your drink. “They just seemed into you is all. I thought there was something you know-” you lift your head looking at him- “between you and them.”
“You thought they were into me?” You choose to ignore the wonder in his voice. Opting to stay silent, you nod. “I can assure you, Dr. Owens is not into me.”
“It sure seemed that way,” you mumble into the rim of your drink. He stares at you, and you shift in your seat, hiding behind your cup. “What?”
“What made you think they were into me?” 
Your molars grind against each other. The rim of the cup is brought to your lips, but you don’t take a sip, you only press your lips against the opening, before lowering it back to the table. “Oh gosh, are you into them? Look, that's sweet and all, but I’d rather not play matchmaker to some scientists.” He stays silent, and you look outside the window, watching a couple walk past by. “You really wanna know?” He makes a noise of confirmation, and you let out a held breath. “In that little time that I saw the two of you, they had no trouble touching you. And they call you by your name, too.”
“My name?”
Nodding, you twist and untwist your legs. “Yeah.”
“Is that usually an indicator?” 
Lifting your hand, you make a see-saw motion. “Sometimes, I guess. Depends on how it’s used and all. Context, ya know?”
“I call other people by their names,” he counters. You nod, letting him continue. “I call you by your name.”
“Oh yeah- I um, I guess so,” you mumble, taking another sip of your drink, desperate to keep yourself busy.
“You never call me by my name.”
“I wasn’t aware that I was allowed.”
“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”
“I always thought you found me annoying.”
“I did.” You frown, and he gives you an apologetic smile. His hand lifts up, grabbing at a strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. “That doesn’t mean that I disliked you. I have to admit-” he lets go of the strand and it falls back to place- “I always did find your drive admirable. You weren’t one to give up. You’re quite stubborn.” You stare at each for a few moments, heat blazing itself against your skin, making a chill over your body. He breaks eye contact and tilts the cup, making a circle with the bottom edge. “Do you really believe that Dr. Owens likes me because they call me by my name.” You nod, your mouth too dry despite the drink in your hand to even consider speaking. “Hm, okay,” he hums. His hand runs over his stubble, and you wonder if he’s growing out a beard. “You said that they touch me.”
“I um, saw the two of you in an office- while on the tour.” Your hand pulls up to scratch at your shoulder. You feel the need to hide from him.
His smile stretches even more. “I thought I was losing my marbles.” You take a sip of your drink. “I thought that after all my imagining about-” he clicks the last consonant, and you straighten yourself, leaning forward- “I thought that finally, after all of your incessant questioning, that I was beginning to imagine you.”
“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your very diluted drink.
“You were saying.” He rolls his hand expectantly.
“When you turned around- when you saw me- they immediately turned you back around.”
“So? I believe we were discussing the recent project that we’ve both been assigned on”
Grabbing a napkin, you dab at the table where a ring of water from the condensation has formed on the table. “It was how they touched you. They touched your back and lingered their hand on you.”
“I’m not following.”
You make a noise of discomfort, and fist the wet napkin in your hand. “I can’t explain it in words. It’s- It’s in the details and stuff. The observer's point of view.”
“Can you show me?” 
“Like?”
“Touch me.”
The napkin is clenched tightly in your hand, your nails ripping through the soft paper. Warmth flushes through your body, and you fear that he can notice the change in you. You know that he doesn’t mean it that way, but for him to say something so- so, intimate sounding, without meaning to, made your heart skip a beat. His eyes widen, and he stumbles over his words. “No- Not- Not like that. I hadn’t meant for it- I’m so terribly sorry-”
“It’s fine,” you reassure, waving your hand in front of you. “It’s cool,” you smile at him and he stops his ramble of words. There’s a rapid beat that bruises inside of your chest at his words- even if he did mean them innocently. “But you know, they touched you at the cafeteria too. They went up to you and touched your bicep.” You lift your hand, reaching over the table, letting it hover over his forearm. Glancing at him, he’s watching you, and you close your fist, pulling your hand back to you. 
“And you believe that all of those actions are due to the fact that they like me?”
Shrugging, you suck in your bottom lip. “It’s just my theory,” you whisper, embarrassment laced into your words. “They wanted to eat lunch with you too.”
The two drinks remain untouched and outside, you can hear sirens. His hand lifts up to rub over his mouth, and he has this faraway look in his eyes. “Okay,” he mumbles. 
“Okay?”
“Is there anything else that you want to add?”
You pout. “No.”
In the corner of your eye, you see a worker clean a table with a rag. You watch for a moment, and turn your head when chairs are fixed back into their positions, scraping along the floor. A part of you feels unsure about the conversation. While you wouldn’t believe that the scientist had a crush on you, you had at least humored the idea, but knowing that he isn’t interested in you, makes you want to go home.
You open your mouth to speak, and he beats you to it. “I’m hungry,” he states.
“I told you you could have gotten a pastry,” you point out.
“I want dinner. An actual dinner.” Sitting straight, it’s as if he has a new resolve. “Are you hungry?”
Blinking in surprise, you lift your shoulders. “Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I could eat something.”
“Good,” he nods to himself, and stands up, the chair squeaks against the floor. You follow his eyes, looking up at him as he adjusts the chair and stands by the table. “I’d like for you to accompany me to dinner.” Clearing his throat, his shoulders bunch together, and any confidence that he did have, is slowly evaporating. “That- That is if you want to, of course.”
You scoff with a smile. “Yeah, I’m game with that, Dr. Ohnn.” 
“Jonathan. You can call me Jonathan. I don’t mind it if you call me that.” He twists his hands, interlocking them, and pulling on the back of his palm, his skin stretching thin over his knuckles. 
Straightening yourself, you nod. “Okay. Jonathan it is. The same um, goes to you of course. You can call me by my name.”
“I already do,” and the way that he says your name, softly and tenderly, held with a smile, makes you turn your head and scratch at your neck in a desperate attempt to hide how wide your smile is.
“Mhm,” you squeak out. Standing up, you make sure to push the chair in and grab at the loose napkins and your drink. 
Following behind you, he throws his drink into the trash. This time, he’s made sure that he stands in front of you, stretching his arm out to hold the door open for you. Mumbling, you thank him, standing beside the door as he goes to open the passenger side door.
None of what he’s doing is helping quell your attraction to the scientist.
Clicking his seatbelt, he starts the car, driving away from the coffee shop. “Do you have a preference?”
“On food?” He nods, fumbling with the radio that plays the song of the week. You tap your foot to the beat. “Um, I think I’m good with most stuff. Restaurants are pretty inclusive about diets and stuff most days.”
“There’s a burger place on the way to Alchemax, do you know the one I’m talking about?” 
“With the really good burgers?” 
“Yes. Would you like to go there?” 
“Isn’t that too far?”
“They opened one relatively nearby.”
“Oh okay,  yeah.” You nod. “I’m game with that.”
“Good. That’s good.”
The drive to the restaurant passes by quickly as you chat about miscellaneous things- the weather, work, different coffee shops. Uncomfortable with silences, you keep the conversation going, jumping from topic to topic, trying to make something stick. However, the driver seems to be content with silence, nodding and giving one-worded answers, only really contributing to the conversation when you give your opinion on something.
Pulling into the restaurant, he takes a glance at you, and you smile in response. He opens his door, and steps out, and you follow close behind. The door is held open for you, you order your own meal, and before you can pat your pockets to find your card, he’s already paying for the meal. You aren’t sure how to feel about the whole situation. You feel good- happy and flustered even- but you can’t kid yourself. It’s dinner. With a scientist who you have pestered for a good while about what exactly is going on within Alchemax. It’s dinner with a guy who you had coffee with- twice. That’s it. 
When he sits in front of you, and smiles, you think you’re about to pass out.
Oh. He’s really cute.
No. Whatever feelings you’re having is a moment of weakness. Maybe you should download a dating app or something. 
Your newfound emotions aren’t settled by the end of the meal where you tell him a story about an old job that you used to work. He’s an avid listener, expressive and laughing when you start to smile uncontrollably. He pushes his tray closer to yours, letting you snag what little left of fries that he has. Even with bags under his eyes, he remains attentive during your story.
“No, and like my supervisor tells me “Well whole milk is regular milk,” and I’m so adamant-” you laugh mid-sentence- “that two percent is regular milk. Or like can be qualified as regular milk.”
“Why were you so adamant about it?” He laughs softly, leaning forward.
“Honestly?” You lean forward, stealing a fry of his and plopping it in your mouth. “I just really hate being wrong. Anyways-” you wave your hand in the air- “we have this whole spiel about milk of all things. And I tell him that I like oat milk and he’s like-” you deepen your voice to portray your supervisor- “‘Oat milk isn’t even milk. How do you even milk an oat?’”
“How do you milk an oat?” He asks with knitted brows.
“I-” you pause and tap at the table. “I always thought you blended it. You know, like peanut butter?”
“Yeah, but people don’t drink peanut butter.”
“I bet you that there is at least one person in the world who does drink peanut butter.”
“Okay, you find me that person and I’ll buy you a coffee next time.”
“Yeah, yeah-” you wave your hand, trying not to let your competitive side leak out. “Anyways, I’m sure they make almond milk the same way. Blended.” You lift a hand and point with your index, swirling it in the air.
“I’m partial to oat,” he admits.
“I gotta be honest, I think all milk tastes the same,” you whisper out the confession, covering the side of your mouth with one hand.
“Oh, now you’re being difficult,” he says with a roll of his eyes, adjusting his glasses by the leg. 
“I’m not, I swear! It just all tastes the same. Doesn’t stop me from asking for it at the coffee shops.”
“Even if it tastes the same?”
“I like feeling fancy,” you lilt, and he laughs.
“So you’re tricking your mind?” 
“Oh totally.” 
“With the fake milks?”
“Real, regular milk,” you counter. “Soy is fake- I think.”
“Oh, soy is fake, but the others aren’t.” He scoffs. “That’s where you draw the line.”
You laugh, taking the final sip of your drink. “Yeah, obviously.”
He joins your laughter, dipping his head down, and stray hairs fall in front of him. When he lifts his head, his smile is wide and open, and he has such a nice laugh- deep and the type that shakes his body. Pride makes your chest swell and heat burn over your cheeks at making him not only smile, but laugh. Fighting back the urge to move away the tray pieces of hair that have fallen, you clench your hand into a fist, your laughter slowly dying down. 
A quiet moment befalls the two of you, and you both look at each other. You rub the bottom of your shoe over the top of the other, and check the time. With a click of your tongue, you gather your trash onto the tray.
“We should probably get going. It’s close to closing time for them,” you explain, nodding your head back to the register where two workers chat.
“Oh, should we?” Despite questioning you, he follows your example and gathers his own trash.
“As someone who used to work customer service jobs, yeah.” Tossing your trash into the designated area, you stack the tray overhead. “I’m pretty sure that the employees probably hate us by now.”
“Good point.” He holds the door open for you, and you follow him back across the mostly empty parking lot. Inside the car, he waits for the engine to heat, and he turns to you. “I apologize for keeping you so late.”
“No, this was,” you hesitate choosing your words, “fun.” You nod your head and pull your bag up onto your lap. “I had a good time.”
“I’m glad that you did,” he says softly, giving you a final look before he gives his attention to the road. 
-
After a long day, you stand in front of your building, Jonathan joining you. You’ve always been much more comfortable with chatter than you have been with silence, but as you stand with him, you don’t feel as uncomfortable. You might even like the silence if it gives you reason to look at him. You stand on the steps leading to your home, finally looking him in the eye, and you hate the fact that he has such soft brown eyes. 
“Thanks for driving me home. And getting me a drink.” You kick at the ground, scuffing up at the dirt that lays in a thin layer. “And paying for dinner.” A jitteriness falls over you, and you can only twist and grip onto the strap of your bag. “Thanks for all of that Dr.-” he gives you a narrowed look and you quickly correct yourself- “Jonathan.”
“You don’t have to add my title,” he tells you. Beside him, his hand twists at the hem of his shirt. 
“Force of habit,” you say shrugging. Clearing your throat, you start. “Still, thanks. This was nice, Jonathan.” You like his name, and you hate the way that it makes you feel.
He nods, and raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, thank you for accompanying me to dinner. I had a good time.” He says your name delicately, rolling off his tongue, and you never thought that you would want to hear your name repeated over and over.
“No worries,” you answer breathlessly. You can’t think around him. Everything feels as if it’s too much- too hot, too close, too sweet. 
It was one day- two technically- but it was a short amount of time. You wear your heart on your sleeve despite trying so desperately not to. All it took was one day with him, and you think that you might like him. 
Oh, how you wish he was with someone else, then you could give yourself a reason to look away from him. 
With cotton stuffed into your mouth, you don’t trust yourself any further. You think that you should go inside- that maybe you shouldn’t be taking up his time. A part of you wonders when you’ll see him again. Shifting your weight between each foot, you pat your hands on your thighs, drying off the clammy feeling. You wish he would start talking again. Or maybe you should. If you go inside, then this could all be over. You turn your foot, and wave your hand in a goodbye, when he starts to speak.
“Will you be joining another tour group?” There’s a hint of hope that’s weaved into his words. He’s looking at you, and you wonder if you look pretty.
“As much as I enjoyed it, no.” You think you imagine seeing his shoulders slump at your words. “It wasn’t really for me. It was nice, but much more kid-centered.” His glasses are slipping down his nose and you wonder if he’d get upset if you pushed them up. “Will you be going to the café tomorrow?”
“I work tomorrow,” he admits.
“Oh,” you clear your throat, and fighting away the burning feeling that is burning in your chest, you suck in a deep breath. It makes sense to do this now. You have to take a risk. It’s dumb and highly unprofessional, but you need to tell him something. He has to stick around, just for a moment longer, just so you could get whatever pink and sweet is in you, out. “Would-” he word comes out much softer than you would have liked- “Would you want to exchange numbers, maybe?” You hope he says no.
“Really?” He looks so shocked, and so happy. A grin tilts his lips upwards, and like seeing his smile.
Nodding, you rub the flat of your middle finger against your jawline. “Yeah. It would be a better alternative than meeting during lunch on a tour group or a random chance meeting at the café. Only if you’re okay with it.”
“I’m okay with it,” he says eagerly.
You nod eagerly, unable to fend off your smile. “Cool, cool.” You suck in a deep breath, and wait for a moment, before you start to pat your pockets, pulling out your phone and clicking at the ‘New Contact’ section. Holding the phone to him, he grabs the device and places his information. 
Holding the phone tight in your hands, you tap your fingers against the back of the case. “I’ll message you later?”
“I’ll look forward to it.” He lifts his hand and waves at you. You watch his back as he steps into his car.
You can hardly believe that you even made it inside without dropping your keys from excitement and nerves. Behind your door, you clasp your hand over your mouth, pitifully trying to stop the smile that beams across your features. Oh, this isn’t fair. And oh, you can’t wait to message him.
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blueteller · 8 months
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TCF Breaking News:
God of Hope is a Cale x Slacker-chan Shipper!
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Sousou no Frieren - Ch 13 vs Ch 130
早朝のフリーレン (souchou no frieren) = early morning Frieren
Even after all this time, Fern is still shocked:
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It's funny how Stark went from being completely unimpressed to explaining how absolutely remarkable this occurrence is:
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They must praise her for behaving well:
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poisonousquinzel · 5 months
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ngl real missed opportunity by DC to let Harley and Mr. Freeze become friends during her primary villain arc (btas or other) cause tbh I can't imagine he'd enjoy sitting in his cell listening to Joker brag about all the ways he's cruel, abusive and uncaring towards Harley, a woman who loves him, while Victor's entire goal is to save his wife who he loves dearly ya know ???? and it's not like all of them haven't been locked up together, the other rogues Know. Joker's not like most abusers who try to keep it behind closed doors, he's very public with his abuse.
And just that feeling of like "I am doing everything I can to save my wife, I have become a criminal and have done awful things in the name of love and I just want nothing more than to have her back and You Have Someone Who Loves You That Much, That Much To Become A Criminal As Well And You Repay That Love By ABUSING HER."
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h7jfangirl · 4 months
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TGS UPTADE 🎩✨
Ten years... Ten fucking years happend after tgs first page
After all this time, at least for a momento we were thinking about how the 'first revelation' moment would be, who would be the first person to discorve Dr Henry Jekyll's darkest secret? The real truth beahind Mr Hyde?
We though about Laynon, because he is the main love interest of the story and also a protagonist himself
We though about Rachel because she cares so much about Mr Hyde
We though about Jasper because he may understand Henry's situation
And we though about Frankestein
And today, Monday 12, 2024. We finally have the anwser
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She really said 'New grandson unlocked'
Victoria Frankestein, was the one who had the honor to be the first person to know about Dr Jekyll's secret, a secret he is been keeping inside for two whole years, a secret so delicate that could destroy his life in the wrong hands...
But Frankestein isn't the wrong person, maybe not the best netheir but not the worse
And this is how the chapter ends, and by Sage's words we can tell we are getting closer to the CLIMAX of the whole story.
If we think about it, in this moment she dosen't have any idea of who Mr Hyde is. For her, Henry just suddenly transfromed into a blonde with green eyes
She could think anything right now! Here some ideas
Frankestein would think that Edward is the real scientist/person and Henry's identity it's his experiment, something that Hyde may like it a little too much...
Frankestein thinks that Henry made a experiment to change the body's looks and she is fascisnated with it because it's perfectly done
Frankestein understands that Henry is Hyde but thinks he did this to himself just to impress her, and she would feel proud for turning Jekyll in the 'right path' of the mad scientist
Or maybe she dosen't even think that's actually Henry but that she found some kind of random creature that take's others indentitys
Whatever she though on that moment, it will not go anywhere because Creature is right there, and they met Hyde before
Creature will explain who Mr Hyde is to Frankestein, so that's the moment when she will realise that Henry it's not the man she belive he was (Maybe she will apologise for her behaviour towards him) or idk, this looks like the start of their official 'redemption arc' in their relationship, where both characters finally can understand each other in a real way
Think about it, Henry will not have to pretend being 'the perfect doctor' that he thinks he needs to be with everyone, something that Frankestein hated of him even before he could even talk to her. Now, Henry may have someone that can understand him completely and knows whats the real hell is been through all this time, that remenber, he is been going through this all by himself without anyone to actually talk to.
Think on a more positive light, it would be sweet to see Frankie treating Jekyll and Hyde nice like she does with the logders, or mostly Hyde (Not hating Jekyll really, Hyde is just happend to be her favorite) and the rest of the society seeing it like;
The logders: oh, They are getting along now!
Robert: oh no, they are getting along now
But well, whatever that happens I just hope THIS IS GONNA BE AMAZING AAAAA
Okay, good bye now! (⁠。⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧
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syrupyyyart · 9 months
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A whole new chapter of Motley is up! Go read it right now!!!!!!!!!
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osamusriceballs · 7 months
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The Accident Part VIII
Atsumu x fem reader
Warnings: None
Words: ~ 2k
About: You finally meet your good friend &lt;3
Part I II -> Next part
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"You know each other?!"
You stare at Atsumu with wide eyes, who just stares at the short blonde next to you and raises his eyebrows as if he just had an epiphany.
"Where have I—wait. Karasuno. Karasuno's manager! You're a friend of Shoyo-kun!" Atsumu's eyes shine when he talks about Karasuno, and you furrow your brows when you remember that it's the name of Yachi's old school. "Shoyo-kun? Like—Hinata Shoyo?" You ask, recalling a bright orange-haired man you've met a few times already when Yachi had invited you to drink with her and her friends. They had always been a lively bunch, definitely growing on you the more often you saw them.
"Hmm, we work together," Atsumu nods, and you blankly stare at him while you try to digest that piece of information. You know that Hinata is a professional volleyball player. Very professional. Olympics level professional. He offered you cards to his games quite a few times, and you had politely declined, not wanting to cause him trouble, but he had sent you tickets anyway for a game in a few weeks.
That probably means that Atsumu is a professional player too—or he might be some kind of manager, according to the vague statement that they are working together. His physique and his posture tell you that he potentially could be an athlete- you would believe that in a second.
"Working together like... playing volleyball too?" You ask for clarification, tilting your head curiously while you watch his reaction. His lips curl into a smug smile, and the confidence he's radiating now makes your legs turn into jelly.
"Yeah. I'm a professional, just like Shoyo-kun. He loves my sets, by the way. Always aces them with no problem."
His eyes capture yours and you hang on his every word, definitely surprised by the development. You're married to a probably very famous professional Olympia volleyball player. You're not even sure what to think about this; the new details just made the whole situation more absurd and unrealistic. The only good thing is that Yachi apparently knows him. You could maybe get more information out of Yachi about him later.
"I—wait. The marriage—you married ATSUMU MIYA?" Your attention shifts to Yachi, who turns almost worryingly red, and you quickly step closer to her and reach for her arm, trying to calm her down. "Yes, but it's okay. He's a good guy, okay?" You smile encouragingly, and Yachi takes a few hasty loud breaths before she nods.
Atsumu watches you both and awkwardly clears his throat, a faint blush covering his cheeks at your words, and rubs the back of his head. "I'll leave ya two alone then. I'll call ya, y/n."
The last thing you see is his smile before he turns around and walks away with his hands in his pockets now. His broad back is evident, especially when he's wearing the white dress shirt, and you can't help but admire the man for a second before Yachi enters your sight once again.
"Y/n! - what happened?!"
xxx
"I can't believe you're married to Atsumu Miya!" she exclaims, still sounding shocked as she repeats the same sentence for the third time after you managed to tell her the fully story during the car ride. Both of you sit on her comfortable plush couch, adorned with a few of her stylish designer blankets. You're glad to be in a familiar place finally, but you can't help but to think about Atsumu. Will he call or leave a message soon? You wouldn't mind him calling today already- just to make sure you have his number. Nothing else. Just to clear that whole marriage thing. And nothing else.
You nod with a mild smile an attempt to calm her slight panic. Atsumu has assured you that everything will be taken care of, and you find yourself actually trusting him. "It'll be okay. You mentioned he's a good guy, right? I mean, he's friends with Hinata."
Yachi deeply inhales and takes a sip of her tea and nods. "He's close to Hinata. They get along really well. But let me tell you, Atsumu Miya in high school is something else. His serves were powerful and terrifying- not as much as today, but still enough to keep us all on the edge. Even Nishinoya had a hard time receiving them. Atsumu-san and Osamu-san managed to copy Hinata's and Kageyama's special attack effortlessly. It was insane. Maybe we can find a recording of it."
She grabs the remote to turn on the TV, and you lean forward eagerly at the thought of seeing more of Atsumu. "I wonder what Atsumu looked like in high school," you muse, taking a sip of your tea, its slight bitterness complementing the rich flavor. "He basically still looks the same. His hair got a bit brighter, and I think he grew a bit. And gained mass," Yachi responds, finding what she's looking for with an excited squeal. "Here!"
You both watch how a much younger Atsumu raises his arm and much to your surprise the whole crowd falls silent. "What- that's not normal, is it?" You turn to Yachi who seems slightly pale, probably because she remembers the moment vividly. "That's normal for Atsumu Miya. He was so good and popular that he got that special treatment. It helps him to focus. Oh, and watch his steps! You can tell what kind of serve he's going to make by the number of his steps."
You diligently nod and watch him serve again, taking six steps this time. The camera angle is a tad bit closer this time, and you don't fail to see his yellow-ish hair that definitely looks different compared to his looks today. He was very fit, even back then, but he is definitely more buff today.
You watch some more of Atsumu's powerful serves, his form screaming utmost perfection, and memories of the very same strong, muscular arms wrapped around you make heat rush to your cheeks. Yachi continues to share insights about his playing style, and you quickly try to focus on her words.
"...their combined attacks are difficult to anticipate. But look at how Kei blocks it!" You nod enthusiastically while you observe Tsukishima's impressive block. The video then shifts to another game, showcasing Atsumu in a black uniform adorned with yellow claw prints on his sleeves.
"Oh, that's from the MSBY game! You should have seen him; there's this amazing set—" Yachi's words trail off as the camera cuts to an unusual angle, revealing Atsumu's impressive thighs in full glory as he sets the ball with a ridiculously seductive smile. Your jaw drops at the unexpected sight- you know for sure you would have fainted if you saw that scene in live. How dare he look so good while setting the ball?? "Look, Hinata easily managed to hit that! And there's Bokuto-san!" You recognize the orange-haired spiker, sharing a smile and high-five with Bokuto. "I can't believe that they all actually know each other."
"Yeah," Yachi smiles and nods. "Hinata always talks about Atsumu-san. And Bokuto-san is close with Osamu-san, I think. I've seen him post a few pictures with Akaashi-san at Onigiri-Miya."
"Is that the name of his restaurant? Atsumu said he would take me there someday." Yachi gives you a side-eye, and reaches for her phone. "You've gotten pretty close, haven't you? You seemed really flustered when-" You quickly interrupt her, "No! I—I don't even know him. I don't even have his number. He was just being nice, we're not really close."
Yachi nods with a small grin, and hands you her phone. "Here. That's his Instagram. He's also often at Onigiri Miya. It seems like he's very proud of his brother's success. I though you might want to have a look at his life."
"Thank you." Yachi is truly a great friend, and you feel once again fond of being close to her. As you scroll through Atsumu's Instagram, you find a mix of game snapshots, some pictures with Osamu, in which he always has a plate full of food in front of him, and you can't help but zoom into the plates, impressed by the neatly arranged dishes. As you keep on scrolling, you almost gasp loudly when you find a very surprising collaboration with Calvin Klein, featuring a shirtless Atsumu from a very close perspective. At first, you keep on scrolling, too flustered at the sudden revealing picture, but curiosity makes you go back after a few moments, and you look at the picture again.
He looks good. His muscles are well-defined and he grins seductively for the camera while he poses, clad in only a ripped pair of jeans. It's almost unfair how ridiculously attractive he looks, but you still think that he looks even better when he's just woken up, just like he did this morning. You exhale loudly and curiously click on the comments.
"I would pay real money to have him like this in my bed." "Christmas came early this year- and so did I." "Bless the Miya genes. I'd gladly help to spread them." "Thank you Calvin Klein. I'll make sure to get a pair of these pants." "*FAINTS* HE'S SO HOT, I CAN'T-"
You're startled when you notice how the comments get even more unhinged and shameless as you keep on scrolling. "He... has a lot of fans," you remark, scrolling back to the top and handing Yachi her phone back, to which she nods heavily. "He had his own fan club in high school, and ever since the Japanese team won the Olympics, the whole team has been very popular. Especially Atsumu-san and Sakusa-san."
You hesitate before asking the next question, uncertain of what the answer might bring. "Is there a reason why he's single? He seems like a decent guy, looks good, and he's probably rich. Isn't he the perfect catch?"
Yachi furrows her brows, thinking. "I don't know, actually. It's probably the same as with Hinata and Kageyama. They focus a lot on their careers; they simply don't have time for dating. I also found out that most volleyball boys can be a bit... intense. It's probably hard to find a partner that understands their passion. They prioritize training over anything else. I've never seen Hinata skip a day of training, no matter what happens. Their partners must accept that they put a lot of their energy and time into their jobs."
"Ah," you simply nod, slightly surprised by the revelation. You would have assumed that they have a very lively dating life, but it seems like they just live for work. Sounds a bit lonely.
"I also think that some fans are a bit obsessed with their private lives. There was an incident before with Atsumu-san and one of their fans- but things have calmed down lately, so you should be fine." Yachi reassures you, reaching for a cookie on the couch table.
"I think that—" she is interrupted by the sudden sound of a ringing phone, and both of you exchange confused glances before realizing it's your phone. Yachi's eyes light up, and she squeals, "Maybe it's him—I mean, I could have gotten his number through Hinata, but maybe he's got some news—"
You fumble with the phone, the unknown number undoubtedly belonging to Atsumu. Taking a deep breath, you nod at her and hold the phone to your ear, answering the call with a simple,
"Hello?"
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suckishima · 8 months
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skljslas i love this panel it's so funny. we dont know yet that hinata is next to him bc it's framed to only show the tall (ie. invited lol) players, but tsukki's expression in comparison to everyone else's mild curiosity is already saying so much lmaooo, the double "...?" the way he won't even LOOK to his left and then the fact that he's literally sweating. he didn't even wanna come to this camp and he's already having the WORST time bc hinata decided to be a little shit
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and then next chapter we get this panel sldjshkdj i laugh EVERY time
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writeouswriter · 1 year
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Reading a fic that's so well written I wish I could close my eyes and just let the descriptions and atmosphere wash over me, but the dilemma with closing my eyes is, well, I then would not be able to continue reading this fic, now would I.
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causticsunshine · 1 year
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show me your love (grow up and see)
for @momrryficfest round II ♡
explicit | H/L | friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, kid fic | 22k+ | ongoing
At only thirty two years of age, Louis Tomlinson has made quite the life for himself—he has his dream job, a place all his own, a nice car, and all the people closest to him are seeing success of their own. The only big thing he's missing now is having the right partner and starting a family with them, although he figures he has plenty of time for that yet. That is, until his best mate, Harry, comes to him with a proposition. Or: what happens when you become your best friend's baby daddy.
read on ao3
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completeoveranalysis · 3 months
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[6]
COOL YEAH THE ONE THING THIS ABSOLUTELY NEEDED WAS EVIL WOLVERINE POPPING IN TO DESCRIBE THE THINGS THAT JUST HAPPENED 
BECAUSE HE JUST CANT HELP HIMSELF EVEN NOW
THERE IS NO-ONE TO ACTUALLY TALK TO AND NO-ONE TO HEAR HIM BUT HE JUST ABSOLUTELY NEEDS TO BE THE ONE TALKING SO HE SUMS UP WHAT JUST HAPPENED AND ALSO HOW IT HAPPENED AND PLEASE PUT HIM IN A BLENDER THIS IS BAD ENOUGH WITHOUT HIM ADDING NOTHING TO IT
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WELL THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT LAVA LAMP STILL HAS A HEAD
THAT’S WHERE THE BAR IS AT THE MOMENT
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OH
OH SO WE DON’T GET TO HEAR WHAT HE SAID?
PURE CLAMP-ISM 
EXACTLY WHAT I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED REALLY
ANYWAY ENJOY THIS LINGERING SHOT OF SYAORAN DRAGGING THE UNRESPONSIVE BODY OF LAVA LAMP PAST ALL THE CORPSES AND UP TO EVIL WOLVERINE’S PORTAL
END OF CHAPTER
AT LEAST HE’S EFFICIENT!
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nethhiri · 2 months
Text
Marooned: Chapter 25
Kid x Fem Reader x Killer
Warnings: violence lite, kissing girls and liking it
Fuck Around...
The Victoria Punk pulled into port in the early afternoon. This island was clearly not affiliated with any kind of marine presence. It appeared disorganized and haphazard from your bird's eye view. There were a lot of buildings, most of them looked like shops rather than houses. Stopover islands often had tons of resources available to purchase, but permanent residents were few. That was doubly true of stopover islands without marines. The type of people that wanted to settle in one place didn't feel safe without them around, and business practices were shady at best, downright criminal at worst.
While you would have been nervous to step foot on an island like this in your past life, you had been on many such like this in your career as the Sea Snake. Places like this, with no laws, and disenfranchised folks, were ideal for promising better lives, and instead kidnapping people to sell. By way of this, they were also great places to ambush traffickers, and it wasn't difficult to recognize which were affiliated with corrupted marines. They had money and they tended to go after people that were younger and attractive. And if you happened to catch others in the cross-fire, oh well. You had tunnel vision and it was dead set on revenge.
The girls had already scrambled off while you had to hang back and wash dishes after breakfast. Kid and Killer left together not long ago. You debated on whether or not to bring Mini, although she had been crammed on this ship and would also make a great pack-mule, so you decided she could come. You had a list of stuff you wanted, but remembered Killer had taken your savings. It would be really embarrassing to ask for a little back. Though, you had wanted to try your hand at counterfeiting. 
While you were thinking about the logistics of shopping, a familiar face walked up beside you. "Want some company?" 
You greeted Heat with a smile. "Only if you don't mind going clothes shopping first. Do you have any paper I could borrow?" 
Heat gave you a curious glance. 
"So I can make Berry." You wiggled your fingers, devil fruit powers ready.
Heat snorted. "Look at the little marine now."
You shot Heat a glare. "Watch it or I won't share my fake money with you."
The two of you, plus Mini, headed off the ship as soon as you had converted enough regular paper into something indistinguishable from Berry. As you said, the first order of business was clothes shopping. Heat had good taste, so you were glad that he wanted to go with you. Heat picked out a few things for himself, leather things that matched his aesthetic. He had also picked some things for you, of a similar style. You couldn't remember ever owning anything leather. 
You held up some of the stuff he had picked. "Heat, this is too much."
"No, no it'll match your jacket. It'll look cool." 
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Did your captain put you up to this?"
"No!" Heat crossed his heart. "But..." He was a little sheepish, "I do know what he likes." He gestured to the pile of things you had to try on. "I kinda figured you wanted to catch his eye."
"First of all, maybe. Second of all, I could catch anyone's eye that I wanted." You grabbed the pile and went into a dressing room. 
Heat rolled his eyes. "I have no doubts." He continued to browse for himself. "Show me when you have something on." 
There were some black leather shorts with straps on the legs. Pants were more your thing, though these shorts looked really good on you and you would need more clothes for hotter weather, granted leather was not the most comfortable fabric in heat. A few simple tops, some tank tops since you generally liked your arms exposed, some other varieties so you had options, including a deep red corseted top that you couldn't resist. There were pants that were more your vibe, baggy, many pockets, and hanging from the hips, with some decorative straps. And then there was what Heat had picked out: white leather low-rise pants that laced all the way up the legs on the sides paired with a top to match. You had to admit it would look cool with your jacket, and you did look eye-catching. Maybe Heat knew a thing or two. 
Heat gave you a thumbs up when you walked out. "See?"
"You were right." You considered yourself in the mirror. "Pick out some more things for me." 
After trying a few more things, you both settled on your final options. You had also left Heat to his own devices while you grabbed some more intimate things, simple things, not anything wild. There was nothing worse than being short on bras and panties. You hung your bags on Mini's tusks, much to her displeasure. They only got heavier as you and Heat made your way through the various shops. Heat wanted to get some mapping things for Wire and journaling things for himself. You decided to pick up a small sketchbook. There were some things you wanted to start working on and needed to draw plans for. Speaking of which, you needed to visit a few more places. 
"I'm gonna head back to the ship. Want me to bring the bags?" Heat asked.
You cocked your head at him. "That's kind of you to offer. That would be great."
He took them from Mini and she gave him a grateful lick on the cheek. "You gonna come out with us later?" He patted her on the head in return.
You were staring at his arms. Is it a crew requirement to have beefy arms? You knew those bags weren't light. "I'll think about it."  You winked at him. "Which bar?"
Heat shrugged. "All of them." You both laughed. "Don't go by yourself though," Heat added. "This is a rough place at night."  
Shooting him an incredulous look, "You're so cute, Heat." It was endearing, however unwarranted. You had literally skinned a guy's face a few days ago. 
He rolled his eyes again, but his cheeks were tinted. "I'll put your bags on your bunk."
"Thank you." You couldn't help adding, "Don't go looking through my panties now." 
Heat walked off and gave you the finger as you cackled.
Hopping on Mini's back, now that she was unencumbered with bags, you got on to your other errands: finding an armory and some place that sold scrap metal, because you would be damned if you asked Kid to borrow some. It was dusk when you got back to the Punk and Mini was loaded down with various pieces of metal. You had gotten a few other items as well. You didn't really want to put all of it by your bunk, not that there was room anyway, so you brought everything to the infirmary for storage until you could get to it. 
The last time you had cleaned up nicely was for Killer's party and that was with help. The boat was pretty vacant. Everyone was out for the most part except for some stragglers and some rookies who were assigned watch duty. You treated yourself to a quick shower, probably the only time you had gotten the women's showers to yourself. There wasn't time for your hair to dry so you left it alone. You mainly wanted to wash the day's grime from your skin so you didn't stink. Nothing worse than someone with B.O. grinding on you, not that you would be doing that. 
With maroon lips, a little bit of mascara, and the outfit that Heat had put together, you looked better than you had the last time. Maybe you thought that because it was more your style than a dress. The last touch was using your power to change the color of your heeled boots from black to white. No better way to ruin an outfit than to wear clashing shoes. One of the items you had acquired earlier in the day was a little switchblade, which you tucked into your shoe. Never knew when it could come in handy. You threw your holster and coat on, then decided your coat hid too much skin. Normally, you didn't care and you would want to advertise who you were, but you hadn't been to a bar in a long time and wanted to be a little unrestrained. 
When you had a big, beautiful beast like Minerva, whose best attribute was sense of smell, though she would argue it was her tusks if she could speak, it was easy to find the bar that the majority of the Kid Pirates were patronizing. No one had bothered you on the way there. Something about a huge animal mounted by a person with an aggressive demeanor really limited the amount of people in your way. Minerva unfortunately was too large to comfortably fit in the establishment so she was content to sit outside, occasionally snorting at people to spook them, for her own entertainment. 
The bar was noisy and dim, as expected, and packed with a grungy variety of pirates, thieves, bounty hunters, and other criminally minded folks. The white of your outfit and the fact you were coming in alone drew the attention of many gazes. Most people wore dark clothes, so you stood out. Not to mention, you were gifted with a body so perfect, you could lay someone down on hot coals to use them as a bridge to walk across and they would thank you. At least, that's what someone had told you once. For a moment, the bar had quieted to a low murmur, save for a boisterous laugh that you recognized as belonging to the Red Menace. Purposefully, you ignored that area and went straight to an open stool at the bar. 
Of course Kid noticed as you walked in. His eyes devoured your figure in that tight leather outfit. If you had asked him if he was waiting to see you walk in, he would deny it, but he was pleased that you did. He was not pleased, however, when you ignored him and went to the bar. And he was especially not pleased when you started giggling and flirting with some loser who bought you a drink. He didn't even have a bounty for fuck sake. Kid grumbled to himself and downed the rest of his beer, slamming the stein on the table and demanding another from the waitress. 
"What's wrong, pirate?" The pretty ginger shifted in his lap. 
"Shut up." Kid continued groping the petite little whore that had wound herself around him. It fed his ego that women, and some men, threw themselves at him. He liked that they decorated his side at whatever bar they decide to visit. But now, for some reason, he was just annoyed. The girl in his lap squeaked. He had been squeezing her a little too tightly. "Why don't ya fuck off?" He all but tossed the woman away from him, returning to his refilled mug trying to burn through that guy's head with his glare.
You could feel Kid's attention on you. You smirked knowing that meant you were probably bothering him in some way. The guy you were pretending to be interested in was telling you about all his adventures, obviously trying to impress you. You finished your drink, leaving the bar while he was still talking to you. His voice faltered and he turned around to mope over his glass. A hand grabbed at you while you were walking to a corner where they were playing darts. You took the hand by the wrist and held it like it was a dirty sock. 
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." This was one of your favorite games to play. A game where you let them think you were simply a pretty thing to look at, let them get themselves into trouble, and then you got to punish them for it. 
"Why not, sweet cheeks? You're dressed like you want some attention."
You dropped his hand, ignoring him, and started to walk away, when he grabbed you again. This time you turned his arm around behind his back and forced his head down on the table. Then you rested your knee on his back to free up your hand, taking his drink and finishing it off. "Least you could do is buy me a drink first." You let him go and continued on. He was lucky you didn't smash his glass over his head. 
Killer had watched the interaction. He, like Kid, had also noticed when you came in. For a while, when you hadn't shown up, he thought you may have left completely, but Heat had mentioned you had been with him all afternoon and planned on meeting up with them. Killer thought your hair was cute down instead of in its usual ponytail. And of course you were hot in leather, even so Killer thought you would probably look hot in just about anything. He saw when that man had grabbed you, noticing that his hand tightened around his glass. When the guy grabbed you a second time, he heard the mug in Kid's hand shatter, causing him to relax his own grip before he did the same. Prior to either of them getting up to handle it, they watched you push the guy down into the table. Killer swore Kid had a smug hint of a smile on his face. Honestly, Killer should have known you would put him his place yourself. 
Darts was a lot harder to play with one eye. If you had won, you would have gotten some money. If you lost, you owed your competition a kiss. Your competition happened to be the short, ginger girl that had been sitting with Kid earlier, though you hadn't noticed her at that time, and you had lost badly. The girl, whose name was Ruby, was cute, freckles spattered across her cheeks, and her ginger hair, short and wild about her face. She was like a pixie. 
"You talk a big game for someone so tiny," you quipped. You weren't used to being the taller one in a pair. Like many other things, it had been some time since you had kissed a girl, though the last time was probably also at a bar. She grabbed your hand and led you into a corner booth. "I think the deal was a kiss, not a date."
"Yeah, well, have one drink with me. That guy on the other side of the bar pissed me off and you seem like a fun time. I saw you smash that dude's face." She laughed and motioned for a waiter to bring you drinks. 
"Do you want me to smash your guy's face, too? Who was it?" You smirked. Maybe coming out tonight would be more fun than you thought. A waiter came over and put two glasses in front of you both, filled with a small amount of greenish liquid. "Absinthe?" You raised an eyebrow. So I'll be getting shitfaced tonight. You took a sip and scrunched your face at the strong taste. 
"Yeah it's kind of my drink of choice." Ruby pointed to the table that Kid was sitting at. "That red-head over there. But I don't think you want to fight him. It's Eustass Kid, of the Kid Pirates." 
You almost spit out your drink. "Is that so?" This girl had questionable taste, like yourself. "He pisses me off, too." You pondered something for a minute. "Do you want to really piss him off and get your kiss?" A sinister thought poisoned your mind. 
"See? I knew you would be fun."
You downed both drinks and grabbed her by the hand this time, leading her outside. Earlier, you saw that the booth that Kid was in happened to be by a window. You pulled Ruby to the side of the bar, not in front of the window, but next to it, close enough where you knew they could hear you, yet couldn't see you. You were both giggling as you pushed Ruby so her back was to the wall. She wrapped her arms around your neck and jumped up to wrap her legs around you, you supporting her with one hand, while the other played with her hair. "Maybe I have a thing for redheads," you wondered out loud. You didn't even know if Kid had noticed the two of you slip out. Even if he didn't, you still got to make out with one cute ginger tonight. The alcohol was starting to make the edges of your mind fuzzy. 
Kid couldn't rip his orange leer from your back. What were you doing, talking to that pint-sized whore from earlier? He barely even participated in the conversation with his own officers. His eyeballs almost fell out of his head when he watched you two go outside. There were only a handful of things people went outside to do. I am NOT jealous. Those two whores can fuck around outside all they want. So why couldn't he relax and enjoy his drink? He growled and turned to Killer to bitch, when they both heard giggling and felt a thump outside the wall. This was not a well-constructed establishment. That could be anyone. They went back to their conversation, though Kid slowly tapered off when he heard sounds that were definitely from your mouth.
The little ginger demon was not shy, slipping her tongue in your mouth and snaking her hands into your hair. You took turns leaving marks on each other's necks. "How do you know him?" She asked you. 
You pulled away from biting at her collarbone to answer, "Fucked. Tried to kill each other. Fucked again."
"So you're dating?" She bit the top of your breast, making you gasp.
That evolved into a laugh. "Not a chance in hell." 
"You like poking the bear then?" She tugged at the laces on your top. 
"Something like that," You grinned. At once, her hand stilled and she tensed. You stopped and looked at her face, which had paled.
She whispered to you, "Good because the bear is right behind you." She unraveled herself from you and put her feet back down on the ground, slipping out from under you and scurrying back into the bar.
You turned around to see Kid, as red as you thought he would be. "You scared my date away." 
"What do ya think yer doing?"
"I lost a bet." You put your hands out in defeat, as if you had no choice but to comply and this was not at all your idea. He wasn't yelling at you, which was strange. The rest of the Kid Pirates were behind him. You guessed that was why.
"We're going somewhere else." He grabbed you and pushed you in the direction of the others. "Don't get left behind." He stalked off to walk by Killer.
Heat found you in the back of the group, Mini trotting beside you. "She was cute. Do you have a thing for redheads?"
"You know I was wondering that myself." 
Heat stopped you for a second to retie your top and wipe some smeared lipstick from around your mouth. "Have you eaten today?"
"Not really." You lowered your voice so only Heat could hear, "Did I get him mad?" 
"I can tell. You're not gonna last the night if you don't eat. That was only the first bar." Heat fake-punched you in the arm. "Yeah, he made us leave early. Thanks a lot." 
"Sorry. I didn't think he would do that."
"What did you think he was gonna do?" Heat realized his mistake. "No, don't answer that." 
It was too late. You were already explaining an elaborate plot fitting for an X-rated film. Very loudly, in fact, since you were sort of drunk. The half of the crew that heard it was pink from head to toe, including Killer. All the girls were giggling and making gagging noises. Kid was grinning ear to ear, chest puffed out, a 180 degree turn from the moping, pouty captain that he had been minutes before. 
If that's what she wanted, all she had to do was ask. But now I think I'll make her beg. Kid's ego had been bruising this entire time, when it really should have been inflated. 
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