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tobesolonely · 4 years

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kindergarten teachers

summary: teacher!harry and coworker y/n have a hard time coming to terms with their feelings for each other

a/n: ahhh she’s finally done! i’ve been working on this fic for sooo long and i hope u all like it! big thanks to @queencharry for helping me when i got stuck and beta reading, and @behindthatbabyface for beta reading as well and giving me feedback!! i appreciate u both <3 enjoy ~11.3k words of some mutual pining and teacher!h interacting with lil kindergarteners 🥺also i am sorry if theres any major grammar mistakes (as always) or crazy typos, i always miss some things when i go back and proofread that im sure i’ll catch later! thank u

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol

talk to me about harry and y/n! let me know your thoughts!!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

From the time you were very young, you knew you wanted to be a teacher. One of your earliest childhood memories was going to school dressed up as one for career day. Your usually untamed hair was pulled back into a sleek bun (courtesy of your mother), and you donned a funky baby-pink sweater. For bottoms, you wore the closest thing to a pencil skirt you had in your five-year-old wardrobe. When you look back on the photographs your mother took of you that day, you did not resemble a teacher in any way. You were sure if you had not done your Career Day presentation in front of the whole class, no one would have even known who you were dressed up as.

Once you moved onto college and declared Education as a major, that was when people really started to let you hear their opinions on the career path you wanted to pursue. It seemed like whenever you went home for a holiday, relatives were always in your ear saying, “You know teachers don’t make a lot of money, right? Have you ever considered something in the sciences?”. You always responded, “I know, but what would the world do without teachers?”.

Eventually, you finished your undergraduate career, successfully completed student teaching with the highest praise from your superiors and colleagues, obtained your teaching credentials, and even went back to school to get your Master’s degree. So, it was much to everyone’s surprise when you settled on being a Kindergarten teacher. People assumed that because you completed so much schooling, you wanted to be a university professor. However, the thought never even crossed your mind. You always thought Kindergarten teachers were the most impressionable people out there and knew you wanted to be one.

To you, there was no greater responsibility than that of a Kindergarten teacher. It was your responsibility to teach your students reading, writing, art, and music at the most basic level. You showed them how to play with others, how to be kind, and give them the tools necessary to succeed once they leave your classroom. You were the first teacher your students ever had, so you needed to make them fall in love with school instead of hate it, considering they’d have to stick to it until they were at least eighteen.

You’ve been a credentialed Kindergarten teacher for the last three years, and you’ve loved every moment of it. You were one of the younger teachers at school, but you never felt left out. Your colleagues were amazing people who often shared tips and tricks they wish they knew when they first started teaching.

Now, you were groggily unlocking the door to your classroom, feeling those first-day-of-school jitters you always felt. You knew kindergarteners weren’t there to harshly critique you. Still, you wanted them to go home and tell their parents about how excited they were to have you as a teacher, not run home in tears. That never happened, of course, but you didn’t want to take any chances. You drop your keys and mutter a quiet, “Shit!” setting your travel mug filled with coffee on the ground and readjust the box of donuts you had for your kids on your hip. As you reach for your keys, you hear a deep voice ask if you need help. You quickly turn around, eyes wide from being startled.

“Oh! You scared me,” you place your free hand over your chest. “But yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m struggling to get my door open.” The man nods, his own keys he wore around his neck jangling as he retrieves first your keys, then your coffee mug.

“I’m Harry– Mr. Styles, if you want,” he holds your keys out for you to take, your coffee mug still in his large hands. “Uh, I’m the new Kindergarten teacher.” You give him a confused look and trade the box of donuts in your arms for your keys, opening the door. “The last one, Mrs. Brown, I think it was, I guess she decided a few weeks back that she wanted to retire.” You get your door open and walk inside your classroom, turning on the lights. It was a little stuffy, considering you hadn’t been there to open any windows in about a month.

“Oh, that’s right! Welcome,” you give him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N– Miss Y/L/N if you want.” A slight blush appears on his cheeks. “We’re gonna be working together then, it seems. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Mrs. Brown, but it’ll be nice to collaborate with someone closer to my age, you know?” Harry nods, and you realize he still had your coffee mug and box of donuts in his hands. “You can just set that on my desk, thanks for helping out. Would you like a donut?”

“Um, I- it’s okay,” he stammers, setting the items down. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ll probably crash if I have a donut first thing in the mornin’.” You smile at him and move to open all your windows and the back door, wanting the stuffy classroom to air out a bit before the children got here.

“I totally get that,” you giggle, walking back over to your desk. “Are you excited about the first day? I always get a little nervous. I also talk a lot when I’m nervous, I’m sure you caught onto that.”

For the first time that morning, Harry laughs. “Yeah, I’m nervous, too. ’ve never taught in the States before, so this is a bit new to me.” He’s playing with the keys hanging from his lanyard.

“I noticed you had an accent, but I didn’t know if it was weird to ask about it. What brings you to California?” You open the box of donuts and take one out, wanting to eat it before it gets cold, and the glaze hardens.

“Uh, I went to University here, but when I graduated, I decided to go back home and teach for a couple of years. I really missed being here though and wanted to come back, so I got my credentials, and uh, here I am,” he tells you with a grin, and you notice he has deep dimples.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” you tell him earnestly. “The kids are just gonna love your accent, too!” you joke and Harry laughs for the second time that day.

“If all else fails, ’m hopin’ to charm everyone over with my accent,” he stares at you for a moment before speaking again. “Well, I better finish getting situated. It’s fifteen til, and I reckon the children will be arriving soon, yeah?” He asks. You nod.

“Best to be waiting at parent drop-off too, there are always a few parents that are just as nervous as their babies, if not more, and could use a quick pep talk.”

“Thanks for lettin’ me know. I was thinking about standing out there anyway, just to make a good first impression.” You take another bite of your donut, giving him a thumbs up.

“You’ve got this, Harry. I know you’re not completely clueless since you’ve taught before, but I know the first day can be a little intimidating. You know where I am if you need anything.” He gives you a grateful smile, quietly thanking you before turning to walk out the door. You’re left thinking about your new coworker, only being pulled from your thoughts of him when the first bell rings.

“Good morning everyone, my name is Miss Y/L/N. Are you all excited to get this school year started?” A chorus of high-pitched yeses fills the room, and you smile warmly at your class. “I’m so excited that you’re all here! I have a little surprise for each of you!” You grab the box of donuts and walk back to the rug in the center of the room that the children usually sat on for storytime. Little gasps fill your ears, and they all say, “Donuts!” and “Yummy!”. You smile at the kids again, already feeling overwhelmed with how adorable they were.

“We all get a donut?” one little girl asks, her eyes wide. You nod at her.

“Of course! Everyone will get a donut, sweetie.” You move to get the plastic food gloves you kept so you can safely hand out a donut to everyone. “Okay guys, I’m going to pass a stack of napkins around the room. Take one and pass the stack to the person sitting next to you. Does that make sense?” All the students nod their heads in confirmation, so you grab a stack and hand them to the child sitting closest to you. “Once the last person has their napkin, let me know, and then it’ll be donut time!” You say this over-enthusiastically, and the children squirm in their seats in excitement.

As you go around handing out donuts to each of your students, you learn their names and ask them to tell you one fun fact about them. Most children say things like, “I have a brother/sister!” or “I can run really fast!”, and you find it absolutely adorable. One thing you loved the most about teaching five-year-olds was their ability to think everything was cool. It was comforting to know that no matter what you did, they’d find you cool, and your first-day jitters quickly dissipated. As the children eat their donuts, you read them a story, putting on different voices for all the various characters. You show them how to raise their hand when they have something they’d like to share and remind them to use their “listening ears” when you or one of their classmates are speaking.

When it’s time for recess, you show them how to line up quietly at the door, and assign a line leader and a hall monitor. You remind the children that they will all get a turn at these tasks eventually because it’ll switch every week, and not to worry. As you’re walking down the hall backward (one of your teachers walks that you’d finally perfected), you hear Harry’s voice.

“Okay Room Ten, we’re gonna go out to the playground now, where you all will get to play every recess and lunch. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” He asks them, and you hear little voices chattering out to him in excitement. You can’t help but peek into his classroom as you walked by, as his door was open. He didn’t see you because he was busy organizing his class into a straight line, so you keep going. Your class, who, much to your surprise, was walking very quietly, got loud once they saw the Kindergarten play area had a slide and monkey bars.

“We get to play on this?” one of your students, Destiny, questions.

“Yup! This is a pretty cool play area, isn’t it?” They nod and stare at you, waiting for direction. “Oh, you can all go play and run around, get some of that energy out. When the bell rings, though, I want you to listen to the yard teachers because they’re gonna help get you all lined back up so we can go back inside. Deal?” The children give you nods and thumbs up, and you grin at them, telling them to have fun and be nice to one another. As you’re turning to go to the teacher’s lounge to refill your mug of coffee, you see Harry walking down the hallway with his class, and decide to wait for him. He gives his class the same spiel you gave yours and tells them to “Treat each other with kindness” before noticing you waiting for him.

“Hey,” he gives you a grin, looking far more relaxed than he did when you saw him earlier that morning. “How’s it going so far?”

“It’s great,” you reply, leading him in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. “They’re all adorable.”

“Yeah, don’t know what I was so nervous fo’. They’re great. Also, you’re right,” Harry has an amused look on his face. “The first thirty minutes of ’em bein’ there was just them askin’ me to say things because they think I sound funny.”

“I told you!” you exclaim, laughing at him. “A British accent is definitely not something we hear every day, not here at least.”

“I figured,” he replies, and silence falls between you. “Where are we going, by the way?”

You stop in front of a blue door and sift through the keys on your lanyard, finally finding the one you were looking for. “Teacher’s lounge. Have you had the chance to check it out yet?” He shakes his head, and you pull open the door after having unlocked it. “After you.” He shakes his head and steps back, signaling you go ahead of him. You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he gives you a defensive look.

“What? ‘M a gentleman. Ladies first,” he insists, holding the door open. You walk inside the room, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. There aren’t many teachers in the lounge. You figure they all must be in their classrooms, trying to do some last-minute organization and lesson planning amidst the first day of school chaos. However, a few colleagues that you’re rather fond of are in the room, so you take it upon yourself to introduce them to Harry.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a relaxing morning!” They chuckle lightly at your sarcasm. “I’d like you all to meet Mr. Harry Styles. He’s the new Kindergarten teacher that took Mrs. Brown’s place.” A look of realization washes over all three teachers’ faces, and they warmly greet him. Harry goes around, shaking each of their hands, voice dripping with charm.

“Lovely to meet you all. Looking forward to collaborating,” he tells them quietly. They begin engaging in polite conversation, so you leave Harry’s side, walking over to the coffee station to get what you came for before recess was over. He joins you shortly after, grabbing a disposable cup. “They were a nice bunch.” He mutters, pouring the steaming coffee into his cup. You hum in agreement.

“Everyone here is nice. The lounge is usually much more crowded than this. Everyone else must be in their rooms,” you flick your wrist up to check the time. “We got some time to sit down and breathe for a bit if you’d like? Unless you wanted to get back to your room.”

“‘M in no rush, trust me,” he tells you, flashing you a small smile. “Let’s take a seat.” Harry walks over to an unoccupied couch and sits down slowly, taking care not to spill his coffee.

“You didn’t want a lid?” you question when you see him struggling. He shrugs.

“Not necessary. Jus’ some extra plastic,” you hum and look down at your lap. You were quickly learning that Harry was not a big talker, and he liked to get his point across in as few words as possible. Him being a Kindergarten teacher contradicted heavily with his rather bashful demeanor, but that just made him all the more endearing to you.

“Do you live nearby, or is your commute long?” you ask him after a few moments of silence. As soon as you ask the question, you internally cringe, feeling like it was too invasive. If Harry thought the question was weird, he doesn’t show it.

“I live in town. I actually walked here today, believe it or not,” he tells you with a chuckle. “Was such a beautiful morning that I figured I should.” Every time you think Harry can’t possibly get any more captivating, he does, and you find yourself biting back a smile.

“How long is your walk?” You cross your legs and then uncross them, a nervous habit that you had. Harry takes a sip of coffee, mulling your question over.

“I’d say it took me about twenty minutes. I was walkin’ at a pretty leisurely pace, though,” Harry shrugs. “How about you? Do you live nearby?”

“I also live in town, but I’m way too lazy to walk, so props to you,” you smile. “The best thing about living around here is seeing your kids out in public. It’s the cutest thing.” Harry smiles, not saying anything else. A silence falls over the two of you again but instead of feeling the need to fill it, you just sit beside him, drinking your coffee. Your mind wanders off to what you were going to do for the rest of the school day, if you had enough groceries in your apartment for dinner or if you should go grocery shopping after work, and if you remembered to pay your bills on time. The bell rings to signify the end of recess, and you jump slightly.

“Ready to go back?” Harry asks, standing up and walking back over to the coffee station. “Think’m gonna get a bit more.” You go to stand by the door, waiting for him to pour another cup of coffee. He quickly rejoins you, and the coffee sloshes a bit, some getting on his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Hope those lil’ buggers got some of their energy out.”

“Right! Mine was even more hyper than they probably would’ve been ’cause I gave them those donuts this morning,” you laugh. “So, for my sake, I hope so too.” When you and Harry arrive back at the Kindergarten play area, your classes are already lined up quietly awaiting instruction, thanks to the yard teachers. You and Harry both thank them and move to stand in front of your kids.

“Miss Y/L/N,” one of your children calls out from the back of the line. “Can we get more donuts when we go back inside?” You see Harry smile out of the corner of your eye as he’s giving instruction to his class.

“There are no more donuts, you guys ate them all! I have something even cooler than donuts planned for us, though, okay? Now, remember what I told you all about walking quietly, right? Mr. Line Leader, how does your line look? Do you think we’re all set to go back inside?” The child you appointed line leader turns around to look at everyone, occasionally shushing some people. After a few moments, he turns back to you, giving you a thumbs up.

Harry moves to stand beside you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Wanna eat lunch together and do some planning? I feel like it would be a good idea for us to be teachin’ the same things, more or less.” Your body feels warm all over, and you just look at him and nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Harry smiles and places a hand on your shoulder. At a normal volume, he says, “See you then, Miss Y/L/N.”

Upon entering Harry’s room, you’re immediately met with the scent of vanilla and the loud hum of the air conditioning. It was bright, adorably decorated, and surprisingly decluttered. It was the polar opposite of your room, and you found it very welcoming and comforting. “Nice set-up you’ve got going on in here,” you tell him. He jumps in his seat at his desk, not having heard you come in.

“Fucks sake,” he mumbles, face going red. “You scared me. Thanks, though. My sister helped me decorate, I don’t really have an eye for this type of stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“Well, if you ever need any help decorating for back to school and your sister isn’t around, I’d be more than happy to help.” Harry smiles and suddenly gets up from his chair, offering it to you.

“Please, take my seat. I’ll just sit in one of the kids’ chairs,” he rolls it towards you, and you shake your head, about to object, but he interrupts you. “It’s okay, Y/N. Their chairs aren’t that bad.” You take the seat Harry was just in, mumbling a quiet thank you. He hums and pulls a tiny chair up beside you, legs scraping loudly across the floor. When he sits down in it, you can’t but burst out laughing.

“Harry, that chair is so tiny! Are you sure you don’t want me to sit there instead? You look so uncomfortable,” you tell him in between laughs. “This is your classroom, after all, I’m just a guest.” Harry shakes his head, cheeks flushed.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really. ‘M perfectly comfortable in this lil’ miniature chair,” he looks at the lunch bag you sat on his desk. “What’s for lunch?” You reach for your sack and unzip it, pulling out a pre-packaged salad from Trader Joe’s.

“I’m very lazy when it comes to packing my lunches,” you admit sheepishly, pulling out a fork. “How about you? Did you eat already?”

“Oh yeah, I had a green smoothie. Not a big lunch guy,” he replies calmly. “Wanna get started with planning? I think we only have about thirty minutes left.” He looks down at his watch to confirm the time. Harry opens his planner, and you see pages filled with his neat, blocky scrawl. He jumps right into talking about the ideas he had in mind, excitement filling his voice that you haven’t yet heard.

The passion and enthusiasm he has for teaching are evident through the way he tells you about the activities he has planned, new materials and teaching methods he wants to try implementing, and things he’s tried before that didn’t work out the way he wanted them to. He asks you for your advice and listens intently when you speak, jotting down notes.

You find yourself having to mentally remind yourself not to stare at him. He was a handsome man– there was no denying that. He had curly brown hair, soft and wild-looking, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen, and arms covered in tattoos. You also noticed he had the tiniest cross on his left hand. You wanted to ask him about it, but you figured that was a conversation for another time.

“Y/N? Did you hear what I just said,” Harry asks, giving you a concerned look. “Are you alright? I think you just zoned out for a couple minutes or somethin’.” You nod quickly, feeling your palms growing sweaty.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about something I have to do later. What did you just say?” You play off how you were just wholly drooling over your new coworker, feeling scrutinized under his piercing gaze.

“Jus’ got an email from the principal. Said we have a faculty meetin’ after school at three. Wanna go together?” He asks. You know Harry’s asking you to accompany him primarily because you’re the only person he really knows so far. However, it still makes you feel warm and special. “He said we’re gonna go over some planning for the Fall Festival. What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just the back-to-school festival. It’s adorable,” you explain. “It’s like a mini carnival that we have right here on the playground. Every year they have teachers host booths. It’s a great way to get to meet your kids’ parents and bond with the other faculty.” Harry nods, standing up from the tiny chair right as the bell signifying the end of lunch rings.

“That sounds lovely,” he chirps, smiling down at you. “We’re gonna have the best booth out of everyone Y/N, trust me.” He jokes, the corner of his eyes crinkling. This was the most Harry had talked since you met him that morning and you were enjoying witnessing him open up to you more and more with each conversation shared.

“It is,” you stand up as well, gathering your trash and empty lunch pail. “Thanks for having me, Harry. Next time we can meet in my room. I wouldn’t mind making this a daily thing.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you physically wince, figuring Harry had to think you were obsessed with him at this point. He looks down, the corners of his mouth upturned when he makes eye contact with you again.

“I’d like that, Y/N. I’ll actually start bringin’ a proper lunch, so you’re not the only one eating,” you smile. “I’ll meet you in your room after school?” You nod in confirmation, walking out the door in front of him.

“See ya later.”

“Did everyone have a good day today?” You ask your class, walking backward to the dismissal gate. You’re met with a chorus of cheerful sounding ‘yeses,’ and you place your hand over your heart in a dramatic fashion. “That makes me so happy, everyone! You’re all incredible little people, and I think we’re gonna have a fantastic year. What do you guys think?” The children chatter excitedly, glad to have made it through their first day of school and see their parents on the other side of the gate eagerly awaiting them, cell phones snapping pictures.

Harry’s already at the gate, waiting for the bell to ring so he can dismiss his class. He’s walking down the line asking each of the children if they see who they’re supposed to go home with, crouching down to their height so they can point them out to him. Some children in his class look a little upset because they don’t see their parents yet. Harry quickly consoles them, telling them they can all play a fun game together while they wait for their ‘Mummies and Daddies.’

You do the same with your kids, and by the time the bell rings and you finish dismissing the ones who saw someone there to pick them up, there was one child from your class who was still waiting and two from Harry’s. He walks over to you, one of their tiny hands in each of his. The boy looks unbothered, but the girl was beginning to cry.

“Hey, Ava, should we ask Miss Y/L/N and her friend if they want to play iSpy with us? The more, the merrier, isn’t that right?” He looks down at her, and she nods, looking down. You figure she’s one of his more shy students he was telling you about earlier.

“Hi, sweetie! I’m Miss Y/L/N, are you waiting for your mom or dad?” She nods, biting her lip. You turn and gesture to your one student who was waiting as well. “Well, so is she! Don’t worry, they’ll be here.”

“I’m Matthew,” the little boy holding Harry’s other hand informs you, shifting from foot to foot. You give him a big smile.

“Hello, Matthew! I love your Spiderman shirt; he’s just the coolest. Jade, do you want to introduce yourself to Mr. Styles, Ava, and Matthew? Remember when we learned about introductions today in class? When you got to introduce yourself to all your classmates?”

Jade nods, a big, toothy grin on her face. “Hi! My name is Jade, and I am five-years-old but my birthday is September 19th, so I’m actually almost six-years-old,” she tells them matter-of-factly. “It’s very nice to meet you!” She adds, remembering the script you gave them earlier. Harry looks down at her, an impressed look on his face.

“Well, it is very lovely to meet you too, Jade! Do we all know how to play iSpy?” Jade and Matthew shout in excitement, but Ava just grips tighter onto Harry’s hand. He looks down at her again. “Do y’ want Miss Y/L/N and I to show you how to play, Ava?” His voice is very quiet, slow, and soothing. She nods, letting go of his hand.

“Well Ava,” you say, looking around for something to start the game out with. “I would say, “I spy with my little eye something green. Then you, Mr. Styles, Matthew, and Jade, would have to look around and name out everything that’s green. If you name something and it’s not it, then I will tell you nope, and you can try again, but if you figure it out, then you’re the winner! Does that make sense?”

She nods, and you see a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Can I go first?” She asks quietly. You tell her, yes, and she looks around quickly, trying to find something to say. “I spy with my little eye something blue!” She has a triumphant smile on her face, and even though you immediately know she’s talking about the sky and you’re sure Harry does too, you both decide to take a step back and let the children take the game into their own hands.

“Y’know, that lil’ introduction Jade gave was really somethin’. I didn’t even think about teachin’ my kids that. Think I’ll try that out tomorrow,” Harry whispers, craning his neck slightly to be at your ear. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin.

“Yeah, I feel like that’s always a good first day of school activity for them to do. A lot of them have never really been exposed to people outside of their immediate family, so they’re not too sure how to talk to others.” Harry hums, standing back up straight.

“Mr. Styles,” Matthew calls, running over to Harry. “My mommy is here. Can I go now?” Harry nods, telling Matthew to wait for him so he can say hi to his mother. You watch as he walks away, overhearing as he tells the boy’s mother what a great job he did today and how he’s so excited to go through this school year with him in his class. Ten minutes later, Jade and Ava are gone as well, and Harry locks the dismissal gate.

“I forgot how exhausting the first day could be,” he tells you, letting out a quiet sigh. “Ready to go to that meeting, though? It’s just about three.” You check your watch and see the time read at 2:57 PM.

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag, and we can head over there. I’m really hoping this won’t take too long; I was planning on going grocery shopping after this,” you walk down the hall towards your classroom and feel Harry’s gaze on you.

“Where do you like to go grocery shopping?” he asks after a few moments of silence. “I need to pick up some groceries this week, too. ’ve been eatin’ takeout for the past week, and I’m starting to feel like shit.” You laugh, unlocking your door. Harry stands outside, holding it open while you grab your purse and lunch bag.

“Honestly, I don’t have a preference. I switch it up a lot,” you shrug, making sure all the windows are closed before walking out. “Was there something, in particular, you were looking for?”

“Uh,” Harry scratches the back of his head. “No? Maybe you could text me a list of all your favorite stores, though. Jus’ so I won’t forget.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, ignoring how fast your heart was beating. “Are you asking for my number, Mr. Styles?”

“I guess I am,” he replies nonchalantly. “We’re gonna be workin’ together a lot. Might as well have your number– if that’s okay, I mean.” He looks down at you.

“Yeah, remind me after the meeting,” you tell him, trying your hardest to play it cool. “Don’t let me forget.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“So Y/N and Harry, you two will be in charge of the pumpkin decorating booth? Is that right?” The principal looks down at his notes and then shifts his gaze between the both of you. You both nod.

“Yeah, I’m excited! I think it’ll be a lot of fun,” you reply excitedly. “We can go to the craft store and get a bunch of paints, but where do you think the best place to get the pumpkins would be?” You pull out your planner, ready to jot down any suggestions.

“You two could try going to a pumpkin patch? They’re starting to pop-up around town,” one teacher suggests. “I’m sure if you purchased a bunch and told them it was for a school event, we could get some kind of deal.” The rest of the faculty buzzes in agreement.

“Y/N and Harry, could you get to a pumpkin patch sometimes this week and see if they can give us an estimate of how much it would cost? Then I could let the PTA know.” You and Harry confirm that it will be possible to do sometime this week, and the meeting continues on.

By the time you’re finally free to leave the meeting, it’s already growing dark outside. Harry’s hands are shoved in his pockets, and he’s looking down at his feet. “So–”

“Do you want–”

You both stop, laughing awkwardly. “You go first.” you tighten the grip on your purse.

“Uh, I was jus’ gonna ask if I could get your number now. Yanno, so we can plan when we’re gonna go get all the stuff for our booth? And you still gotta tell me what your favorite grocery stores are,” he has a playful look in his eyes. For the thousandth time that day, your hands become clammy. There was just something about every interaction you had with him that made you so nervous.

“Oh yeah,” you answer coolly, digging in your purse for your phone. “Just text your number, so I have it.” You hand him his phone, and he stops dead in his tracks, a look of concentration on his face.

“I can’t walk and be on the phone at the same time,” he mutters when he looks back up and realizes you were watching him the whole time. “I don’t know how people do it.” He hands you back your phone. “What were y’ gonna ask me?”

“I was just um, I was gonna ask if you wanted me to give you a ride home? I mean, since you walked to work today and it’ll be dark soon,” talking to Harry made you feel like a nervous school girl interacting with her first crush, and you hated that feeling.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that–”

“It’s no bother, really,” you cut him off, and you realize you sound a little eager, but at that point, you didn’t even care. “I’m sure we don’t live too far from each other.” Harry looks slightly unsure but nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“If you’re sure, Y/N. I appreciate it, I owe you one,” he’s following behind you to the teacher parking lot. You silently pray your car isn’t messy inside like it usually is as you approach it. You decide to pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, telling yourself if the passenger side was messy, you’d just quickly throw everything in the back. “Heyyyy, why’re you walkin’ so fast? Are you sure you’ve got the time to take me home?” He takes a few big strides and quickly catches up with your hurried, tiny ones.

“Yeah, of course, I have time,” you respond, unlocking your car as you approach it. “If it’s messy, then just ignore it.” you preface, honestly not remembering the state in which you left your car this morning when you walked into work.

“Don’t worry about it. You should see mine,” Harry jokes, and it immediately puts you at ease. As you’re about to open your door, Harry quickly rushes to your side, opening it himself. “Let me.”

His hand rests over yours, and you quickly pull it away, your body heating up. “Harry, I’m already right here. I can open my own car door.”

“I know you can. But I’m a gentle—“

“You’re a gentleman, I know,” you playfully roll your eyes and take a step back, allowing Harry to open your car door all the way. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t flattered and honestly a little bit turned on. He flashes you a smile as you situate yourself behind the wheel of the car and makes sure you’re all the way in before slamming it shut. You see him lightly jog around to the passenger side, and soon enough, he’s beside you, your car immediately starting to smell like his cologne.

“What music do you like to listen to?” Harry asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“You ask me a lot of random questions, Harry,” you reply, looking behind you as you slowly back out.

“Is it a crime to wanna get to know my new coworker?” you can hear a smile in his voice. “C’mon. What’s your favorite music to listen to?”

You shrug, looking both ways before exiting the parking lot. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t know my address yet. Just take a left at this light coming up. Favorite music?” Out of the corner of his eye, you see him scrolling through his music library.

“You don’t know your address yet?”

“No. I’ll play something random,” he says, tapping his hand on his knee. “You can take a right at that stop sign up there.” You put on your blinker and glance over your shoulder before switching lanes. Harry quickly pairs his phone with your Bluetooth, and a song you’re unfamiliar with blares through your speakers. Neither one of you says anything else, only speaking to each other when he’s giving you directions to his house, and you’re confirming what he said.

After two more songs, Harry says, “S’right up here.” He’s led you to a beautiful apartment complex— one you were looking at when you were moving out of your parent’s home but just couldn’t afford as a new graduate. You expertly parallel park and then turn the car off, a silence falling between the two of you.

“This is a nice complex,” you tell him after a moment. “Really close to school. I see why you opted to walk to work today.”

“Mhm,” he hums. His seatbelt is still fastened. “I understand if you’re busy, but did you wanna come in?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly backtracks. “I mean— it’s just— remember the activity you taught your kids today? About introductions? Jus’ wanted to know if you could walk me through it, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well yeah, I can hang out for a bit.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and reach in the backseat for your purse that you threw haphazardly over your shoulder earlier.

“Will your boyfriend be okay with you coming in, though?” He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” You’re slightly taken aback and oddly flattered that he thought you were in a relationship.

“I dunno,” his face grows red. “You got all weird when I opened doors for ya. Figured you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.”

“Cool.” More silence falls, this time an awkward one.

“Should we go inside now?” you unlock the doors, quickly getting out of the car. Harry follows behind you and waits for you to walk onto the sidewalk before going up the walkway.

“How close do you live to me?” Harry asks, punching in his gate code. He pulls the gate open and gestures for you to go ahead of him. You decide not to comment on it this time.

“A couple blocks away. I could probably walk over here if I was in the mood to,” Harry shuts the gate behind you and walks over to the first set of stairs, taking them two at a time. “I was interested in this complex when I was moving out of my parents’ but I settled on something else.” He hums, stopping in front of the first door at the top of the stairs. There’s a brown ‘Welcome!’ mat outside his door, along with a few potted plants.

“Here we are,” he looks over his shoulder as if he’s checking if you’re still there. “Excuse the boxes. ‘M not done unpacking yet.” He pushes open the door and steps in, quickly turning on the light. You’re met with the same sweet scent of vanilla that’s in his classroom. Considering he was in the process of unpacking, his apartment was reasonably tidy.

“It looks good in here,” your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You were in your coworker’s house that you just met that day, and you could already feel yourself developing a crush on him. There was obviously no way you’d let this relationship progress past anything strictly professional, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to admire his beauty.

“Thanks,” he gives you a smile, relief washing over his face. “You can set your bag down if you want. Take a seat, make yourself at home.” He leaves the room, and you hear him rattling around in the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee sounds great,” you reply. You set your purse down on his coffee table and sit on the edge of his couch, inspecting his living room closer. There were two books on the table, both flipped upside down as a way to mark his page. There were a few more plants inside, similar to the ones in front of his door. There was a framed picture of him with two beautiful women you assumed to be his mother and sister. Harry comes back into the room a few minutes later, two steaming cups of black coffee in hand.

“Here you are, Miss Y/L/N,” he puts on an exaggerated posh accent, and you giggle.

“Why thank you, Mr. Styles,” you respond in the same voice. “Do you have cream and sugar?”

He wrinkles his nose. “I think I might have sugar. Is oat milk, okay? I don’t have cream.” He goes back to his kitchen to retrieve the items before you can tell him it’s okay, and you’ll just drink it black. You thank him, pouring the tiniest splash of oat milk into your coffee. You can feel his eyes on you as you add a bit of sugar, stir, taste, and then add some more.

“So,” you begin after your coffee is made to your liking. “What did you think about your first day? You can be honest since we’re not on campus anymore.” Harry laughs, looking down at his fingernails.

“Uh,” he starts. You notice he says, ‘uh’ a lot. “It was terrific. Not so sure I would’ve felt the same way if I didn’t have you to help me through it.”

“We’re partners in crime now, Harry. We’re the two Kindergarten teachers, and you’re the only other person there my age? We’ve definitely gotta stick together,” you give him a big smile. He doesn’t smile back but looks a bit troubled instead. You wait for him to speak, coming to accept that long pauses were just a thing when having a conversation with Harry.

“Y’know how I assumed you had a boyfriend earlier? I thought after I’d said that–– rather I hoped after I said that you’d be like,” he clears his throat. “‘Why, no! I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?’” He put on the worst American accent you’d ever heard to imitate your voice, causing you to laugh. “To which I would’ve replied with a simple ‘no.’”

Now it’s your turn to leave Harry wondering what you’re thinking for the first time all day. You can feel his eyes on you as you look at his couch cushions, noticing a bit of crumbs that you hadn’t seen before. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You don’t even know me. We just met today.”

“Does that mean I can’t think you’re beautiful?”

You bite your lip, feeling yourself starting to grow a bit turned on by his forwardness. There was a part of you that would risk it all for just one night in bed with Harry because you just found him that attractive. The rational, adult side of you was screaming, ‘Don’t mix business with pleasure!’. By now, you had both moved closer on the couch to one another, knees nearly touching. “I think you’re beautiful, too.” He grins, setting his coffee cup down. You do the same.

“Would it be crazy of me to tell you that I really wanna kiss you right now?” His face is mere inches from yours, so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath. You shake your head.

“No. I really wanna kiss you too.”

“C’ mere, then.”

Harry leans forward a bit more until his lips are ghosting over yours. You pull at the collar of his shirt, bringing his already close body even closer to yours. His lips are softer than they look, and he’s a better kisser than you thought he’d be, too. He brings his hands up to tangle them in your hair, and that’s when you abruptly pull away, not wanting things to go too far. “We shouldn’t…” He looks at you with sad eyes, but he nods, understanding what you mean.

“Probably not the best idea?” his response comes out as more of a question than a statement, but you nod in agreement anyway.

“Definitely not. I’m um–– I’m actually gonna go,” you stand up, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see––”

You’re out the door, rushing down the stairs before he can even finish his sentence.

The rest of the school week goes on without either one of you mentioning it. It’s a little awkward for a couple of days, but by the time Friday rolls around, both of you decide the best course of action to take regarding the kiss would be to act like it never happened.

You’re in your room at lunch hanging up your kids’ artwork they made during their ‘Free Time’ this morning, having declined Harry’s lunch invitation for the fourth time that week. You decided to pretend to be busy with work so you wouldn’t be too tempted to go into his room. To most people, you’re sure it looked like you were avoiding him–– and maybe you were. However, you were trying to get over this crush on him in the best way that you knew how.

“Need some help?”

You jump, nearly falling backward off the stepstool you were on. “Holy shit, Harry! You scared the hell out of me!” You feel your body getting warm, and you quickly look away, not wanting him to see how flustered you were.

“Sorry, you weren’t answering my texts, so I decided to come see what you were up to,” he walks over to where you were standing and hands you a piece of art, smiling at it before handing it to you. “You’ve got some artists in your class.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking him in the eyes. You hear him let out a quiet sigh.

“Still able to go see about getting those pumpkins ordered after work?”

You had completely forgotten that you and Harry decided today would be the day you’d go get the pumpkin situated figured out for your booth. For a second, you consider making an excuse to get out of it, but you decide against it. This was something that both of you were asked to do, not just him, and you didn’t want the fact that you let your attraction to him cloud your judgment getting in the way of your professional responsibilities.

“Yeah, that works.”

He doesn’t say anything, and even though you’re not looking at him, you can see the gears in his head turning. “Should we talk––”

You’re quite literally saved by the bell, the end of lunch interrupting where you knew he was about to lead the conversation. “I’ll see you after school? Did you walk here again? I can drive.” Harry nods slowly.

“Uh, yeah. he replies. “I walked. Uh, ’m gonna go get my kids. See you after school then?”

“Yup!” you respond, fake enthusiasm in your voice. Harry gives you one more look before walking out of your room. You wait until he’s all the way down the hall before following behind him to bring your class back inside. You knew you were the one making things awkward between you and Harry. However, the realistic part of you knew getting involved with your coworker was one of the worst ideas you’d ever had in your life. For now, you’d just tell yourself that you were probably more into Harry than he was into you and pray that would be enough to make you get over your crush.

“I haven’t been to a pumpkin patch since I was a kid.” Harry stuffs his hands farther into his pockets while yours are tightly hugging your chest. You hum, not saying anything. The car ride there was a little awkward, and you were glad it was so short. You could tell there was a lot Harry wanted to say, but you were glad he wasn’t saying it. You keep seeing him glance at you, but you pretend not to notice.

“What size pumpkins should we ask for? Small ones, huh?” Harry nods, looking around in childlike awe. There was a small petting zoo, booths selling warm drinks and kettle corn, and an obscene amount of children.

You walk around together for a moment before encountering a friendly-looking employee who looked like he could help you out. Harry takes over, explaining the situation, and why you need to order one hundred tiny pumpkins. While you’re waiting for the employee to ask the owner if that would even be possible, Harry turns to face you.

“Y/N? Can we talk about what happened on Monday?” you’re about to tell him that you’d rather not, but he continues. “I felt something during that kiss, Y/N. I’m not sure if you felt it too, but I don’t want things to be awkward between us. We have to get through an entire school year working side-by-side, and if you’re not interested, then I respect that one hundred percent, but I just want––”

“So the owner said that is possible!” The employee that was helping you out comes back with a form and clipboard in their hand. “Can you just fill out some information and let us know what time you need it tomorrow? The owner said he could get it delivered and give you guys a discount since you’re ordering so much.”

“That’s great!” you exclaim, taking the form from him. You were glad to have been saved from your conversation with Harry. You quickly go through and fill out everything you can, telling them they can bill your school’s PTA.

The walk back to your car is silent. You’re replaying what Harry was saying to you over in your head, thinking about what he was going to say before he was interrupted. He opens your car door like he’s been doing, but he doesn’t make eye contact with you or say a word as he slides into the passenger seat.

“Y’can just drop me off,” Harry says quietly. He leans your seat back and closes his eyes. You wait to see if he’ll connect his phone, but he doesn’t, so you turn on the radio at a volume so low it almost can’t be heard. It takes everything in you not to speed back to his place. You just wanted him out of your car. You had such strong feelings for him that it physically hurt, and restraining yourself from telling him how you really felt was growing harder and harder.

“We’re here.” your voice is a little hoarse from not saying anything. Harry slowly opens his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt, opening the door.

“Right. Thanks for the ride. What time do we need to be at school to set up our booth by?”

“Four. I can pick you up if you want?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He closes the door and walks up to his gate without looking back at you once.

“Hi Miss Y/L/N! Hi Mr. Styles!”

Groups of your students had been coming up to you excitedly all evening. It made you happy to see that the Kindergarten classes were no longer divided. They were starting to hang out with one another. Their parents tell you how their children thought it was just the coolest thing to be on school grounds on a Saturday, and how even though it was only a week into the school year, they were having the best time. It was comments like this that made you fall in love with your job all over again.

Things between you and Harry were going well. It wasn’t awkward, but you think it was because you were both too busy helping children paint their pumpkins. You were glad that Harry didn’t take the bit of downtime the two of you had when no one was at your booth trying to talk about the kiss and instead talked about other random things instead. You find out he loves baking (specifically, bread), he has an obsession with old music, and has about fifty tattoos. He talks to his mom on the phone every day, and he is extremely close to his sister. You tell him about your parents’, your undergraduate experience, your hobbies, and you finally tell him what music you like to listen to.

The festival quickly comes to an end, and you find yourself sad once you and Harry are done cleaning up your booth, knowing that you were just going to drop him off at his apartment and go back to yours to spend another Saturday night alone. You get to his complex almost too quickly, and you almost want to keep going and pretend you accidentally missed it just to be with him a bit longer. Instead, you park.

“D’ya wanna come inside?” He blurts out. Even in the darkness of your car, you can tell his face is flushed. “I mean if you haven’t got plans. I know it’s a Saturday night, so I understand if––”

“Nope, I don’t have plans. I’d love to.” Your hands are shaky as you unbuckle your seatbelt. He quickly gets out of your car and runs around to your side, opening the door for you before you can do it yourself. You almost don’t even notice since it was becoming such a habit.

“I picked up this new bottle of wine a couple days ago that’ve been wanting to pop open. Think we deserve a glass or two after such a long week, hmm?” You wordlessly nod, wholly mesmerized with just how good Harry looked after such a long day of work. His curls fell perfectly across his forehead, his eyes were sparkling and full of excitement.

“A glass of wine sounds great,” you reply with a chuckle. “I’m ready to drink a whole bottle by the end of the week if I’m being honest.” Harry laughs, quickly punching in his gate code. You could see his hands shaking a little bit, but you decide not to comment on it. He takes the stairs up to his apartment two at a time like he did last time you were there, but this time there’s an urgency and clumsiness to his actions that you haven’t seen before. He jams the key in his lock, quickly shoving the door open.

His apartment is a little messier than it was when you were in it at the beginning of the week, but it’s nothing disgusting. He runs his fingers through his curls, moving aside papers that were scattered along the length of the couch. “Sorry, I was doin’ some planning. Make yourself comfortable.” He disappears to the kitchen, and moments later, you hear the pop of a wine cork and the smooth sound of him pouring the alcohol into glasses.

He emerges from his kitchen, handing you a generously poured glass of wine. “Thanks, Harry,” you tell him before taking a big sip. It was sweet, and while you usually preferred a more dry wine, it was still delicious.

“Cheers to the end of a successful first week,” he holds up his glass, and you smile, clinking yours with his. “Thanks for helpin’ me get through it, Y/N. Couldn’t have done it without you.” You give him a timid smile.

“Stop, Harry. You’re a great teacher. I can see your kids love you already,” you take another sip of wine. “I kinda do too. I mean–– that came out wrong. I don’t love you, but I do think I like you.” You didn’t know what came over you at that moment, but something told you now was the time to lay it all out on the table with Harry. He sets his glass of wine down, the biggest smile on his face.

“Really? I thought you weren’t interested. Was kinda startin’ to feel like you hate me,” he sounds a little sad. You shake your head.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m really into you,” you didn’t even realize how you’d inched your way towards Harry. “I’ve been trying not to think about how we kissed because we shouldn’t, you know? We’re coworkers. I’ve been trying not to think about it all week, though, and I just can’t get you out of my mind.” He stares intensely into your eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he usually does when he’s thinking.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he finally asks. You’re in the same position as you were last time, being mere inches away from the other’s lips. Only this time, you smell the wine on his breath, not coffee. You nod quickly, and Harry cups your face in his hands, hungrily pressing his lips against yours.

“You can do more than kiss me, actually,” you tell him breathlessly. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, a shocked look on his face. “When you say anything…” he trails off.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you tell him bluntly. “Please. Been wanting that all week.” He licks his lips, looking at you in a way he hasn’t yet before.

“I can definitely do that,” he replies, resting his hand on your thigh. His large hand is dangerously close to your pussy, and you can already feel yourself growing wet. “Let’s get all these clothes off you then, huh?”

You stand up and quickly start removing your clothes. First, your blouse comes off, and that’s quickly followed by your bra. Harry’s leaning back on the couch, arms resting behind his head. “Enjoying the show?” you ask, quickly pulling down your jeans and underwear. You’re completely naked in front of him in thirty seconds flat, and you reckon that’s the fastest you’ve ever undressed for anything.

“Very much so,” he mumbles, palming himself over his khakis. “C’ mere, Y/N.” he pats his lap, and you move to sit in it, now straddling him. He softly presses his lips against yours, the hunger that was there just a moment ago completely dissipated. This was a much more hesitant kiss, more gentle and tender. “You’re really beautiful, Y/N.”

You giggle. “I know. You’ve told me that before.”

“I want you to know how much I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Harry nods. “Can I have a taste of ya now?” you notice that his accent sounds a bit thicker than usual, voice a tad gruffer. You nod, swallowing thickly. Climbing off Harry, you lay back on the couch, situating yourself, so it’s a little more comfortable. He looks into your eyes, placing his hands on your knees. “Is this okay, Y/N?” You nod again, and he removes his hands.

“What’s wrong?” your voice has a hint of desperation in it, but after a week of extreme sexual tension, you wanted nothing more than to cum by the hands of this man.

“Wanna hear you tell me it’s okay. I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want,” he’s looking down at his hands.

“Harry, I wouldn’t have given you a striptease and laid back on this couch for you if I didn’t want it. I wholeheartedly give you permission to do whatever you want with me––”

That’s enough for him. He roughly pries your legs open, immediately licking a long stripe up your heat. You cry out, not expecting him to get right into it. You look down at him and groan when you see he’s making eye contact with you, a smug look on his face. “How’s tha’, love?” You nod, tangling your hands in his curls.

“Yeah Harry, please,” you moan. Harry sucks harshly at your clit, pulling off loudly, the sound echoing throughout his minimally furnished apartment.

“Please what, pet?” He’s looking you dead in the eyes, a devilish grin on his face while his index finger rubs small circles on your clit. Your chest is heaving up and down quickly as you try to calm your breathing down.

“Please make me cum on your tongue, Harry,” you try pushing his head back down to your cunt, but he doesn’t budge.

“Think I rather like hearin’ you beg like this fo’ me. Enjoyin’ watching you squirm like tha’, love.” Just as your about to beg for him some more to feed his inflated ego, he attaches his lips to your clit once more, this time adding his ring finger into your tight pussy. “You’re tight. Sure you’ll be able to take my cock?” His voice is muffled, and you just barely make out what he says.

You clench around his finger, and he laughs, the vibrations sending a new sensation across your clit. “Y’like thinkin’ about my cock, hmm?”

“Yeah, want you in me,” you beg, lifting your hips up. He grips onto your hips tightly, keeping you in place.

“Can feel yeh gettin’ ready for me, darlin’. Think you can take another one?” You nod, and Harry gently places kitten licks on your swollen clit while he slowly pushes his middle finger into you. You feel full in a way you haven’t felt in such a long time, and he only had two fingers in you. Once he pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times, he goes back to harshly sucking on his clit, moaning every so often so you can feel the vibrations against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you’re moaning loudly, and you pray Harry’s neighbors don’t hear you, knowing how thin apartment walls were.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, doll,” he mutters, adding another finger inside you. The burn feels amazing, and you place your hand on his wrist, urging him to go faster. “Gonna cum in my mouth, hmm? Gonna let me feel ya around m’ fingers?”

“Yes, please, Harry,” you feel yourself nearly there, your orgasm threatening to overtake you at any moment.

“Give it to me then, Y/N. Cum for me,” he demands. As soon as he says those three words, you’re done for, your body going tense as waves of pleasure roll throughout your body. He doesn’t remove his digits from the your cunt until you’re coming down from your high, placing a kiss to your clit. He laughs as you shudder at the overstimulation. Harry places his three fingers that were just inside of you and his mouth and sucks on them, not once breaking eye contact with you.

“That was really good,” you tell him, crawling on your knees towards him to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw—Harry’s beaming, a triumphant look on his face.

“Not yet. Gotta make y’ cum one more time. I’m a gentleman, after all.” You know he’s messing with you but also serious, so you lean back on the couch, opening your legs once again.

“Are you gonna take off your clothes too? Why am I the only one that’s naked?” Harry laughs, and you hear the clanking of his belt as he undoes it.

“You’re impatient, aren’t ya?” you nod, and he pulls down his tenting khakis and tight boxers. His cock springs up, slightly touching his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. “Hold on a sec.” He gets up quickly, and you hear him hurry to what you assume in the bathroom, rummaging around. He comes back a minute later with a box of condoms, making you laugh.

“Is that a new box of condoms? Have you been holding onto those all week, Mr. Styles?” Harry rolls his eyes and opens the box, ripping open a condom expertly with his teeth.

“Weren’t you just the one beggin’ for me, pet? I’d watch it if I were you,” he jokes, rolling the condom onto his hard length. He leans down to place wet, opened mouth kisses to your breasts. “So beautiful.”

“Are you gonna take off your shirt?” you ask quietly. “I kinda wanna see all your tattoos.” Harry raises an eyebrow at you but unbuttons his shirt nevertheless, throwing it into the mess of clothes scattered around the living room. You reach your hand up, shakily tracing the swallows on his chest, moving down to the butterfly across his stomach and finally to the ferns on his abdomen. Harry’s staring down at you, watching as you delicately touch his skin. “You have so many.” you finally say. He nods.

“Yeah. Some of them I just got for the hell of it. Felt like after I got that first tattoo, it was hard to stop.” He caresses the skin on your thighs, and you shudder again. “Gonna let me get inside that pretty lil’ cunt now?”

“Please.”

Harry aligns himself with your entrance and slowly pushes into you, sharply inhaling as you clench around his length. “Relax, Y/N.’ve got ya,” he tells you reassuringly. “Can’t get inside ya if you’re all tense like tha’.” You can tell Harry’s trying his hardest not to absolutely wreck you, the vein in his forehead very prominent from clenching his jaw so tightly. You grip tightly onto his bicep, biting your lip as you adjust to his size. You were so wet and indescribably turned on that you felt every vein his thick cock had to offer, and you knew you wouldn’t last long once he started moving. By the looks of it, Harry wouldn’t either.

“You can move,” you tell him, squeezing your eyes shut. Harry slowly pulls out of you and then ever so gently sinks back inside you, bottoming out. He lets out a breathy moan, moving one of his hands up to tweak your nipples. “Harder, Harry, fuck.”

He immediately pulls out of you and slams back inside, the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. You scream in pleasure, no longer caring if his neighbors hear what you two were doing.

“Like tha’?” He asks cheekily, working up a steady rhythm. You nod, gripping your boobs to keep them from bouncing. Harry shakes his head, forcefully removing your hands. “Nope, none of that. Wanna see ’em.” He takes both of your hands in one of his, pinning them up over your head. His other hand reaches in between your bodies to rub at your clit, and before you have time to warn him, you’re cumming again, squirting all over his cock.

Harry throws his head back in pleasure, his thrusts getting sloppy and frantic, and you know he’s seconds away from his own orgasm. You spur him on, telling him how badly you wanted him to come inside of you (even though he was wearing a condom). He stills moments later, shaking above you as he holds himself up with an arm, not wanting to collapse on top of you.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. Why did we wait a whole week to do this again?”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #teacher!h

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realcube · 3 years

Text

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references

kei tsukishima

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one

♡ jk jk

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning.

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--”

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?”

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact.

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened? why were they both acting like they were in drama class? and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage.

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.”

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?”

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending?

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you*

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.”

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch 🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?”

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

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starshine583 · 4 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (1)

(Hey guys! I finally got around to posting the first chapter of this! I hope you guys enjoy it, and please tell me if you’d liked to be tagged or want to read more! there’s also a mini-series of Journal Entries connected to this fic.)

Ch.2

Chapter 1: Happy Accidents

Rosemary Highschool, a private school for the truly gifted and the rich. Anyone who attended this facility was either poised and reserved, or uptight, or all of the above. Therefore, when a stuttering, stumbling raven-haired girl came tripping through their doors, it was only natural that the students became curious.

Felix couldn’t care less, if he was being honest. The girl was just another student, and he had better things to do than waste his time meddling in the personal life of a complete stranger.

His friends, however, did not share his sentiment.

“Did you hear?” Allegra asked as they walked to their lockers, her sky blue eyes wide with delight. She leaned forward slightly to catch a better view of their expressions, causing her golden braid to fall gracefully over her left shoulder.

“About the new student? Who didn’t?” Claude replied, wearing his usual grin.

“How do you think she got in?” Allan wondered aloud, fixing the green cap on his head in thought.

Felix rolled his eyes. His friends had always loved picking up on the latest gossip. He never understood why. Take this new student, for example. She hasn’t even finished enrolling in the school yet, but everyone’s already chattering relentlessly about her. Why? Because she was rumored to be clumsy? That was hardly an achievement, let alone something to be talked about by the entire school. So what was all the fuss about?

Allegra gasped, a smile lighting up her soft features. “Oh! We should show her around! This school is huge, so she’ll definitely need a guide. Plus, we can get the first scoop on her.”

“Absolutely not.” Felix finally cut in, giving her a sharp look. He refused to galivant around the school with a complete stranger while his classmates tried to pry into the poor girl’s personal life.��

“We didn’t say you had to go.” Claude pointed out.

“But you should at least say hi.” Allegra hastily added, a motherly tone coming to her voice.

Felix scoffed. Right. He would say ‘hi’, then they would ‘convince’ him to stay- i.e. drag him by the collar -and he would end up going around the school with them anyway. He’d gotten used to their tricks by now.

Allan frowned in disapproval. “Come on, Fe. It’s the polite thing to do. We are her new classmates, after all.”

“Yeah, Fe, don’t be a jerk.”

“When am I ever not a jerk.” Felix retorted.

Claude smirked. “He’s got a point.”

“Felix.” Allegra pressed, fixing him with a stern glare and putting her hands on her hips.

Felix groaned, irritation prickling up to the forefront of his mind. What did it matter if he saw the new student? He wouldn’t be talking with her often, and they would probably meet later on during classes anyway. Why did they have to be so pushy?

He reached up to rub his temples and closed his eyes. If he couldn’t see them, it helped him imagine that they weren’t annoying him to the point of insanity.

“Alright, fine, but if any of you-”

Felix barely registered the hit. He heard his friends gasp, and the sound of his books and pencils scattering across the floor, and he felt the dull pain of someone smacking into him before he unexpectedly hit the ground.

Then his ears tuned into a light, yet panicked voice.

“I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I just did that- are you hurt? Do I need to call the nurse?”

Someone was talking to him. Well, they were more of rambling, really.

“Pardon?” He said, interrupting the person’s ramble as he rubbed his back. He glanced up to see a young girl kneeling on the ground in front of him. She was scrambling around on the floor- gathering up his books, he realized -and appeared to be even more disoriented than he was.

His question spooked her, apparently, because she jumped, and her eyes darted upwards. They were an overwhelming blue, bright and sparkling despite being filled with anxiety at the moment.

“I-I’m sorry!” She repeated, briefly setting the books down so she could nervously pull on the tips of her raven-colored pigtails.

Felix’s eyes widened.

Raven.

Claude stifled a laugh behind him.

“It’s not a problem.” Felix sighed, swiftly taking his books back from her and moving to retrieve the others. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.

The ravenette furrowed her eyebrows, now bringing her hands down to play with the zipper of her black, half-sleeved jacket. “A-are you sure?”

He gave a short nod, scooping the rest of his books into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ran into you. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry.” His tone was composed, calm, if only for the sake of dignity. Claude and Allegra were never going to let him live this down.

He picked up her small handbag, holding it out to her. “So, I apologize. I’ll be more careful next time, and I am willing to replace anything of yours that is broken.”

A wash of color came to her cheeks.

“Oh, That- that won’t be necessary, thank you.” She insured, taking the purse and clutching it to her chest.

Felix didn’t reply, instead using the brief pause to look her over. With her light pink capris and child-like pigtails, she didn’t exactly give off the impression of being rich or poised. Perhaps a relative bought her tuition? That’s happened before.

“Aw, look! Felix made a friend!” Claude’s snide remark broke Felix from his thoughts, and he shot the brunette a glare. That clown can never keep his mouth shut.

Allegra pushed past the two and extended a hand to the girl just as they got to their feet. “Hi! I’m Allegra. What’s your name?”

The girl smiled- which Felix found surprisingly pleasant -and took her hand. “Marinette. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Like the doll?” Allan asked curiously, stepping forward as well.

“Sort of, yes.”

“That’s pretty cool. I’m Allan, by the way.” He introduced himself, also shaking her hand. He then pointed behind him, towards Claude and Felix. “The one in the blue striped shirt is Claude, and the stiff board you just ran into is Felix.”

Felix hunched his shoulders slightly, a scowl tugging at the corner of his lips, but Marinette only laughed. It oddly reminded him of the sound of tinkling bells.

“You’re new here, right?” Allegra asked before Felix could snark off to Allan. “Mind if we show you around?”

A sigh of relief tumbled from Marinette’s lips. “Please do. This place is like a maze!”

Claude chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’ll make your head spin. We-”

“-Can start with the cafeteria.” Felix interrupted. The sooner they could start the tour, the sooner he could go home. “Then we’ll work our way around the classrooms.”

He spun on his heel, ignoring his friends’ smug smiles, and marched off. It wouldn’t take long for them to follow.

Allan was the first to catch up, throwing Felix a sly smirk as he whispered, “I thought you said you weren’t going to show her around.”

Felix shrugged. If he was going to suffer through the embarrassment of running into somebody, he might as well get something out of it. He would take her on a quick tour, and perhaps his friends wouldn’t feel the need to meddle in his social life for at least another month.

“We’re her new classmates, right?” He said. “We should exercise basic politeness and guide her through the school.”

Allan hummed. “Sounds like good advice. I wonder who could’ve told you that.”

“The name escapes me.” Felix replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He stole a glance over his shoulder to the rest of the group. Marinette was talking cheerfully with Allegra now, her previous show of anxiety all but gone. She even looked a bit confident with the tripping matter settled. Isn’t that strange?

“...What else do you know about her?”

~~~~~~

When Maman suggested that Marinette start attending Rosemary Highschool, reluctance couldn’t begin to express how she’d felt. She’d heard the rumors, how the kids were spoiled, snobby brats, how the classes were just a room full of fancy trinkets to keep the kids satisfied for a while. Marinette honestly didn’t want any part of it, but at that point, any school was better than her old school. She simply couldn’t stand Lila’s schemes anymore, nor Adrien’s relentless pursuit of having them get along. As bad as Chloe’s bullying was, Marinette almost wished that she could go back to that time. At least then she’d still have friends. (Well, calling her old classmates “friends” would be over exaggerating now. At least then she wouldn’t have to deal with getting bullied from everyone at school.)

Either way, Marinette chose Rosemary over Dupont in a heartbeat, despite her uneasiness, and found that it actually wasn’t all bad. The endless halls were a bit confusing, but the classes were more advanced than others had let on, and though a select few of the students could be considered snobbish, everyone else seemed quite nice. A small group even offered to show her around. (After she ran into their friend, that is. Only Marinette could make such an embarrassing introduction.)

“I think that covers everything.” The girl of the group, Allegra, said. “But in case you’re still confused, I have a map for you.”

“A map?” Marinette echoed. She didn’t think they presented those at the school, though they probably should.

Allegra nodded and pulled a folded piece of paper from her school bag. “Claude gets lost all the time. So I started making maps for him. I have multiple maps because- typical Claude -he loses the maps too.”

“How was I supposed to know that it got mixed in with my history homework?” Claude, obviously the jokester amongst them, defended with a flail of his arms.

“If you ever need help,” Allegra continued, ignoring Claude’s comment as she scribbled something on the map, “feel free to text me.”

“Thank you so much.” Marinette smiled, peeking at the phone number that was now on the corner of the page.

“It’s the least we can do.” Allan, probably the most relaxed of the group, replied.

“It’s not as complicated as it looks. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it within a week.” Ah, yes. Then there was Felix, the poor boy she’d run into earlier. He’d been extremely mature about the matter, even insisting that it was his fault and that he’d pay for any of her damaged belongings. Naturally, she refused the offer, but it was a thoughtful gesture nonetheless.

“If not, you know where to find us.” Claude added, before scooping her hand into his and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. “But I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to you finding me for non-school related purposes as well.”

Allegra rolled her eyes with a sigh, and Allan pinched the bridge of his nose. Felix just scoffed, especially when Claude winked at the end.

Jokester and flirt of the group. Marinette thought with a smirk. In one quick motion, she slipped her hand out of Claude’s grasp and pushed him away by the tip of his nose.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She said, flashing him a wry smile.

Claude stumbled back a step, clearly shocked by her reaction. Allan straight up laughed next to him, and Marinette, to her delight, caught a glimpse of Felix smirking.

“Oh, I like you.” Allegra snickered, slinging her arm over Marinette’s shoulders.

“So do I.” Claude grinned.

Allan, once his laughs died down, stepped forward. “Do you mind if I give you my number too? I can’t imagine not hanging out with you now.”

Marinette blushed from the compliment, but nodded and handed him the paper. Claude eagerly jumped at the opportunity and wrote down his number too. Then the boys turned to Felix.

“What about you, Fe? Are you giving her your number now or are you gonna beg for it later?” Claude asked, his grin turning devilish.

Felix shot him a glare- which he apparently did quite often. “I don’t beg.”

Allegra- ever the patient friend -let out a huff and shoved the paper into his hands. “For Pete’s sake, Felix, just write your number on the dang paper.”

“O-Only if you want to.” Marinette interjected. She didn’t want to cause a fight amongst them on her first day.

Felix’s glare faded slightly at her input, and he sighed.

“It’s fine. You would probably need it eventually, anyway.” He relented, plucking a pen out of his left vest pocket and jotting down his number on the paper too. Marinette smiled despite herself as she took the paper back. It was only her first day, but she’s already made four, lovely friends. She liked to think of that as a good sign.

“Have you gotten your class schedule, yet?” Allegra queried now that the phone number matter was settled.

Marinette shook her head. “I was actually trying to find it when I bumped into you guys.”

Claude snorted. “‘Bumped into’. Good one.”

Marinette giggled along with Allegra and Allan. She hadn’t meant it that way, but the irony was a bit humorous.

“Let us walk you to the office.” Allan requested. “The school tends to overcomplicate things, class schedules included.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hold you guys up.”

Allegra waved her hand dismissively. “Classes are over for the day, and our drivers are paid to wait for us.”

Marinette furrowed her brows slightly. “Your drivers?"

“You know, the people who drive us to and from school and anywhere else we want to go.” Claude helpfully supplied.

So, like Gorilla. Marinette thought. It made sense. This was a school of kids who had fortunes of the same extent, if not greater than, the Agreste’s fortunes. If Adrien had a driver, then the students here would certainly have one too.

“You don’t have a driver, do you?” Allegra guessed.

Marinette glanced up at the blonde, a strange mix of surprised and embarrassed. Was it that obvious? Would it be weird in this school if she didn’t have a driver?

“Please don’t take that the wrong way.” Allegra rushed to add, noticing Marinette’s sheepish expression. “I’m just curious. We don’t get many students here who aren’t drowning in their own money.”

“That makes sense.” Marinette replied. The tuition for this school had been unbelievably high. “But no, I don’t have a driver. My family was granted an early scholarship for me to come here.”

Surprise flashed across the group’s faces, including Felix’s.

“Well, isn’t that interesting.” Claude muttered.

Marinette shrank back slightly. “I-I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t apologize.” Allan cut her off. “We’re just impressed.”

“Getting a scholarship here isn’t easy.” Allegra explained.

“I-It’s only in the fashion section.” Marinette admitted, fiddling with the ends of her bookbag.

Claude gasped, a sparkle coming to his chestnut eyes. "You're a fashion designer?!"

“Uh oh.” Allan smirked.

Allegra shot her an apologetic look. “I’d say that there’s an escape to this, but I don’t want to lie straight to your face on our first day of knowing each other.”

Marinette held back a smile. Did that mean she would lie to her face when they knew each other better?

“How many outfits have you designed? Can you sow outfits too? I’ve had a few ideas, but none of the other art students listen to me-” Comments and questions started spilling out of Claude left and right. Things about smeared pencil drawings, pricked fingers, and his strange obsession with ruffled, prince-like sleeves seemed to explode out of his mouth all at once. Marinette knew her rambles could fall on the fast side, but this was a whole other level.

“I’d have to look through my notebook, but I think the ruffles are doable.” Marinette managed to say when Claude paused to take a breath.

“Really?!” He exclaimed, going so far as to clasp his hands together with a grin.

She nodded, smiling herself. “I’m not sure how princely sleeves would fair on modern sleeves, though. They’d look much nicer on a full prince costume.”

Claude’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You would design a full suit for me?”

“I can’t promise that the fabric will be of good quality when I sow it, but yeah.”

Claude threw his fists in the air in celebration, and Allegra took the opportunity to lightly pull Marinette aside.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” She whispered. “Claude’s not going to be too disappointed if you decide to change your mind.”

Marinette’s smile softened. “Thanks, but I really don’t mind. I needed a new project to work on, anyway.”

Allegra studied her for a moment, then smiled as well. “Well, if you’re sure. He’s going to send you cars full of fabric though.”

She laughed. “Guess I’ll tell Maman to start clearing out the guest room.”

~~~~~~

Felix stared at his book, rubbing the corner of the page between his thumb and index finger. His phone buzzed relentlessly beside him on the arm of his recliner, no doubt the group chat that he'd been roped into. It was chaotic enough when it was just Allegra, Allan, and Claude, but now that they've added Marinette to the group, Felix wondered if his phone would ever be silent again.

He supposed he should have known better than to assume they would show Marinette around the school and be done with her. Allegra, Allan, and Claude were always overly friendly. However, he also couldn’t say that he minded having her around either. At least, not for the time being. She was considerate enough not to push his buttons and lively enough to keep the others occupied. No more on-the-spot activities from Allegra and Claude to cure their boredom.

"They're chatty today." Bridgette, his mother, commented from the loveseat couch to his right.

Felix hummed in agreement. "A new student arrived at the school today."

"Is that what they're talking about?"

He shook his head. "It's who they're talking to. The leeches have already adopted her."

Bridgette chuckled. “You mean Allegra, Allan, and Claude?”

“Who else insists on sticking to me like glue?”

She tilted her head in a “True” gesture. “Who’s the new student?”

“Her name’s Marinette.” Felix answered, flipping the page of his book.

“Oh, that’s a unique name.” Bridgette replied thoughtfully.

Felix hummed in agreement. “She said it was supposed to be similar to the doll ‘Marionette’.”

“You talked to her?” Bridgette asked, surprise lacing her tone.

Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew she didn’t mean to sound patronizing, but sometimes her questions irked him. For example, why wouldn’t he talk to the new student if Allegra and the others were? Even if he didn’t particularly enjoy human interaction, there was still such a thing as common courtesy.

..Which he supposed he didn’t usually have either.

Okay, maybe her question was more reasonable than he originally thought.

“Yes, I actually ran into her while we were walking down the hall.” He finally said.

Bridgette tried- and failed -to hide her laugh. “You ran into someone? That’s not like you, Felix.”

Felix sighed, slipping a bookmark into his book so he could close it. “I’m aware. I was trying to ignore Allegra’s prodding when it happened.”

“I see. What did Marinette say?”

“She actually started apologizing.” Felix admitted. “Even though it was my fault, she picked up my books before tending to her own things and asked if I was alright.”

Bridgette smiled. “She sounds delightful.”

He nodded without thinking. “Allegra even invited her to our routine luncheon tomorrow.”

Felix missed the twinkle in his mother’s eyes as she said, “Wow, to your personal lunch? They must really enjoy her company. You’ll have to invite her over here sometime.”

“I’m sure Allegra will arrange it eventually.” Felix replied dismissively.

“Then I shall have to thank her when she does.” Bridgette remarked, standing up from the couch. Her fingers ruffled through his hair as she passed him. “I’m glad you had a good day at school, sweetheart.”

Felix almost objected, since he hadn’t necessarily claimed to have had a good day at school, but decided against it. There was no point in arguing, especially when his day had, in fact, been satisfactory. He’d met someone new, someone that intrigued him. (A rarity, indeed, but it was true.) In the short time they talked, Marinette had shown herself to be both kind and anxious, but also witty and confident. It was an interesting mixture that stuck out to him. What type of life must one live to create such a paradox of a personality?

Unfortunately, Allan and the others knew about as little as he did when it came to her. She was a new student that had a passion for fashion and a bright smile. That was all. This was why he’d elected to remain silent instead of sharply opposing Allegra’s inviting Marinette to their lunch. (The sly smiles that were thrown his way by Claude and Allan afterwards were above irritating, though.)

Nevertheless, Felix felt she was worth the teasing for now, because Marinette, in short, was a puzzle.

And Felix loved his puzzles.

#Felinette #Rosemary AU #New Girl On the Block #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #Marinette

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dragon-cat-eyes · 3 years

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I am just gonna leave these pregame head cannons for the v3 cast here, they are based around our mastermind rp we are currently doing. Most of them are just meant to be funny and stuff , so if you like a character and you don’t think we did them justice hit me up with your own head cannons.

Kaede- she was pretty quiet around most people. She no longer valued her life and was ready to throw it away at the drop of a penny but decided it would be useful for team Danganronpa. She is really oblivious to compliments but over all a good person lacking confidence. ( not everyone here is good)

Shuichi- he is obsessed with Danganronpa , he has seen every episode and season. He claims that it saved him from his depopresion and he would do anything to be in it. He owns tons of merchandise and has written many terrible fanfiction with his own Oc. He strongly believes since he knows so much he might as well be the mastermind and basically gets off to being in the presence of Rantaro and Tsumugi.( the previous games survivors)

Kaito- This mans is probably capital of douche bag central. He is a womanizer and shows a lot of toxic masculinity. He isn’t the smartest man but works out a ton. He wanted his character to be likable so when he got out of the game and was famous everybody would love him. All he cares about is the money and he’ll go through whoever he has go to get it.

Maki- Still not the most emotional however she has very clear Intents. She has been taking care of children her whole life and happily does so. Caring for other kids so they never have to deal with the terrible care she had as a orphan. She is a pretty natural born leader and isn’t joking Dangronpa for the fame. She is joining so that if she wins the money can go to those kids and if she doesn’t win maybe she’ll be able to convince the others to atleast donate when she is gone.

Miu- Dummer than a bricks. I’m sorry, but she is barely making it through school and is only getting good grades through favors. She knows what she has and isn’t afraid to use it to her advantage. School can be stressful and she worries about her future…she figures if I can win a killing game I’ll be set for life. She eagerly signs her life away and basically begs to be made the smartest character there.

Kiibo- He was your everyday edgy guy, decided he would join Dangronpa to escape the outside world. He had very specific wants , he wanted to be a robot , flawless , unbreakable, and claiming flesh was to fragile. He wanted to be everything he wasn’t friendly, confident, and useful. Everyone was pretty sure he already thought he himself was a robot with no emotion this was just a step to come make it come true.

Kokichi- piss baby man. This man would cry at the drop of a pencil. Someone must of bullied this boy to the point he decided his life no longer mattered. He gets very intimidated by new sistuation and pretty people. He didn’t have the balls to stand up for himself at first but he later starts trying to act like his new character and gets a bit cocky. He can’t argue without crying though but he does throw weak blows to get under people’s skin. He is pretty baby and loves cuddles and being treated like a little kid, it’s almost like he is completely touch starved.

Gonta- Meat head with no brains. He is here for the fame and gladly displays his muscles to show he has what it takes to get rid of everyone in this game. He has the strength to end a life in a snap but he worried if he wasn’t likable his fame would be nothing. He decided his character needed to be the most beloved character in the entire show, he wanted to be raised by wolves, being very intimidating and silent. His character would be so cool and badass like him that the fans would love him….to bad he didn’t care for bugs but he was fine with being the ultimate entomologist anyway.

Tenko- Shy lesbian girl who was just ready to end it all. She had been taken advantage of by men and decided she hated herself , she no longer wanted to live in her body or with herself. She was still hesitant about the killing game but she felt it was the only way she could escape the past, she unlike her current game self isn’t afraid to speak up to a pretty lady and was in a relationship with Kirumi before the game started.

Angie- she is a lot like shuichi a huge fangirl of Danganronpa. She has drawn tons of fanart and written her own fanfiction that include unpopular ships and such. She isn’t as obsessed as Shuichi but she feels honored to be in the presence of Rantaro and Tsumugi. She will argue with anyone that she is a Mikan Kinny and that the love of her life is nagito. She feels toxic just standing next to her but atleast she tries to act nice even if she is obvious to her hurting other people.

Himiko- Little spitfire. She kicks ass and takes names, sporting all leather and coming from a gang she thinks she is tough shit. She is here for the game and quickly phorms a James and Jessie dynamic with Gonta. She is very flirty little thing very quickly sizing up her opportunities. She used to preform magic shows in school and still remembers a lot of tricks so that is what makes her decide to be the ultimate magician. Gonta and her planned that ethyl would leave the game together and basically rule the world with their fame…they had feeling for each other they chose to ignore for the sake of the game they were about to be in.

Korekiyo- This was your everyday traveler just trying to escape his past. His older sister groomed him and caused him a lot of trauma ,once he could escape from home he did and never went back. He has delicates his life to figuring out everything he can about humans and why they do the things they do. This killing game intrigued him to the point where he decided to join and see what made humans tick this way. He didn’t want a crazy story just being the ultimate anthropologist was good for him, he didn’t realize he overstated giving them all ideas on how to ruin the man.

Kirumi- Seemlessly already had a character in mind and was acting as such. She already planned out she wanted to be a maid and fulfill needs before her master even knew they needed them. Everyone was pretty sure she somehow got off to being a maid with how happy it made her. She was a bit suprised with Tenko admiring feelings for her but decided to let herself indulge one last time in the idea of self worth. She unknowingly asked for compliments and acceptance, she just wanted to help everyone…never realizing to help herself.

Ryoma- was a basic man who had no one in his life that cared for him. He took up to raising and taking care of cats in his Freetime and before the game he is looking to rehouse those cats in good homes since he knows he won’t be coming home to them. He is a soft man just not will left to live. He disctracts everyone with kittens while he talks about wanting to be a tennis player that has killed a mafia…somehow he got the exact part he wanted.

Tsumugi & Rantaro- both being from a previous game have a lot of trauma and nightmares from it. They got into a relationship once they were free of the first game and were always there for eachother. Rantaro was rich from his family and didn’t mind spoiling his new girlfriend who didn’t have anything before that. They both just wanted to live out their normal lives and leave Dangronpa in the past but got dragged back in due to popular demand. The entire world was in love with their romance and would gladly have the couple shoved into another killing game to satisfy their needs. They weren’t happy about being in another killing game but had no choice and put a stop on their lives to work for Team Dangronpa. They both knew this would be the most changing thing they have gone through together next to meeting each others parents.

I have more on some of the characters but this is a long post already so I’ll just leave it there for now.

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tyrantisterror · 3 years

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THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SAFE! YOU THOUGHT THAT THE TIME OF MONSTERS WAS AT AN END! BUT YOU WERE WRONG, FOR NOW YOU MUST WITNESS…

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

That’s right, it’s back! Celebrating the publication of The Atomic Time of Monsters Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! (which in turn completes The Ballad of Tyrantis arc for this series), I’m holding another monster design jam. The third of such jams, in fact!

Like the first A.T.O.M. Create a Kaiju Contest, the aim of this contest is to create kaiju that would fit within the setting of my big kaiju story series, The Atomic Time of Monsters. Think of it as me letting you into my sandbox to play with my toys for a bit, or like you’re being put in the director’s chair of a new ATOM-verse kaiju movie. That means your entry does have to fit into ATOM’s world, which in turn means that yes, there are limitations to your creativity here. But limitations can be good sometimes - they can make us explore options we wouldn’t consider when given completely free rein to do what we want!

(also you don’t have to make a three dimensional image or anything, the title’s just a pun on how the third movie in a monster movie franchise will often be a 3-D film)

Read below the cut to learn the rules and whatnot:

THE RULES:

1. You are limited to one entry per person. Work hard and make your entry count!

2. Your kaiju must have some sort of description of its physical appearance and its personality - you can submit a drawing or a written description (or both!) for the physical appearance depending on what you’re most comfortable with. Using the same template/format as my official ATOM Kaiju Files (https://horrorflora.com/monster-menageries/atom-kaiju-files/) isn’t required, but it was cool when people did it in the last contest, so feel free to do so this time too!

3. The kaiju you create must specifically be created for this contest - no repurposing characters you made for other, wildly different stories. This is not “trick TT into drawing/canonizing my main OC” time.

4. The kaiju must fit the setting and aesthetics of ATOM. I’ll explain this in more detail down below.

5. The kaiju should add something meaningful to the world of ATOM. The more unique and interesting your kaiju is, the more likely you will win the contest.

6. Don’t make your kaiju too dependent on pre-existing ATOM characters - no “Tyrantis’s long lost evil brother who’s the strongest kaiju in the world.” These should be to Tyrantis’s story what War of the Gargantuas is to Godzilla’s movies – heroes (well, monsters) of another story in the same world.

THE REWARDS:

I will make pencil sketches of the top 5 entries in the contest.

I will then make fully rendered illustrations (lineart, colors, & shading) of the top three entries.

The winning entry will be made into a model ala the ones I’ve been making for ATOM’s core 50 monsters, which can then be shipped to the person who created it (should they be able to cover the shipping costs). That’s right, your kaiju could be brought to life in THREE GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOR DIMENSIONS! (Hey, we worked the gag title in to the prizes!)

THE DEADLINE: All entries must be submitted by July 3rd, 2021. You can submit it here on tumblr, via the horror flora e-mail, or any other channel you know how to reach me through. I’m in a lot of places.

THE GUIDELINES (TO HELP YOUR ENTRY FIT THE RULES AND WIN):

The smartest thing you could do if you want to win this contest is familiarize yourself with the world of ATOM by, y’know, reading all the material I’ve published on the subject. In addition to the many kaiju files that are free to read on horrorflora.com, there are now TWO, count ‘em, TWO novels in this series for you to peruse, both of which establish many of the rules of the setting as well as its general themes and tone! You can get them in either paperback or e-book formatting (I’d recommend the former over the latter since I lack the technology to make a really nice ebook, but if money is an object, the kindle version is only $1). Here’s the links again if you missed them:

Vol. 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us!

Vol. 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth!

However, since I know reading a bunch of stuff is, y’know, not something everyone is inclined to do, I’ll jot some good bullet points for you in an attempt to outline how ATOM works in a brief, easily digested way:

ATOM is an homage to the monster fiction of the 1950’s and 60’s (i.e. the Atomic Age), and is set in those two decades, albeit an alternate universe version of them where, y’know, monsters and space aliens exist. If you aren’t familiar with the monster fiction I’m referring to, there will be some reference material provided at the end of this post along with some recommendations for further research.

Kaiju/giant monsters in ATOM work under very specific rules. There’s a full description of those rules at this link, but here’s the jist:

ATOM Kaiju are created created by the radiation of a mineral called Yamaneon, which naturally converts harmful radiation into its own unique energy. In natural circumstances, it takes hundreds of years of exposure to Yamaneon radiation for a creature to become fully transform into a kaiju (luckily, Yamaneon radiation slows the aging process while speeding up the healing process). However, an explosive burst of energy - such as the geothermal and kinetic energy released by an earthquake, or the blast of a nuclear weapon - can speed up the process, turning a normal animal into a kaiju within a matter of seconds.

All ATOM kaiju can heal grievous wounds within minutes or even seconds, are supernaturally strong and durable, and can convert harmful radiation to harmless energy that they then feed off of. Kaiju do not have an equivalent of old age, and can theoretically live forever (though their violent lifestyle means that few do).

ATOM Kaiju generally don’t need to eat unless they are severely injured, getting most of the energy they need from solar or geothermal radiation - but many still have instincts that drive them to seek out food from time to time.

Most ATOM kaiju stand roughly 100 feet tall (depending on their body shape), i.e. smaller than the original 1954 Godzilla. There are exceptions to this rule - younger kaiju can be smaller, while exceedingly old kaiju can be significantly larger, but these are rare.

In general, ATOM kaiju are significantly more intelligent and emotionally complex than people expect animals to be, though most are incapable of speech or complex tool use. There’s a reason ATOM Kaiju Files have a “personality” section.

Most ATOM Kaiju are tooth and claw fighters - ranged weapons are a rarity in this setting.

While the terrestrial monsters in ATOM look strange, they are intended to fit within the taxonomy of animals in reality - reptiles, mammals, fish, arthropods, molluscs, etc.

ATOM’s mesozoic era was dominated by a fictional clade of crocodile-relatives called retrosaurs, which are based on the outdated paleoart that one would find in the 1950’s/60’s fiction - i.e. when dinosaurs were viewed as trail dragging lizards instead of strange birds. You can learn more about retrosaurs here (https://horrorflora.com/2016/11/15/atom-kaiju-file-bonus-a-guide-to-retrosaurs/).

Kaiju appear on every continent in ATOM, but certain areas tend to be dominated by different types.

North America is mainly besieged by retrosaur kaiju and giant arthropods.

East Asia is technically also mainly plagued by retrosaurs and big arthropods, though they tend to look more fantastical and mythic - and, often, oddly well suited to being portrayed by a person wearing a monster suit.

Russia is beset by prehistoric monsters that seem to come from the Cenozoic, particularly the Ice Age.

Western Europe is plagued by creatures that vaguely resemble creatures from myth, if they were also prehistoric. Dragon-y lizards, fiery birds, etc.

Towards the mid-way point of ATOM’s timeline, earth is invaded by a coalition of aliens from different solar systems called the Beyonder Alliance, and as a result a bunch of alien monsters can be found on earth.

Mars and Venus both host (or hosted in Mars’s case) animal life. The surviving Martians colonized Venus, and sent some of their kaiju guardians to earth to help us fend off the Beyonders (who are responsible for the destruction of Mars’s ecosystem). Martian and Venusian kaiju have specific anatomical quirks, which you can see by looking at these kaiju files:

Venusians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/03/atom-kaiju-file-29-karamtor/

Martians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-39-kemlasulla/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-40-podritak/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-41-sombarvot/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-38-ullawdra/

Giant robots exist in ATOM, but are big, bulky, and incredibly expensive. Fancy beam weapons also exist, but are similarly clunky - there are no sleek, elegant machines in ATOM.

Since the fiction ATOM takes inspiration from was made at a time when interplanetary travel was only just beginning to be possible, its scope is significantly smaller than modern sci-fi. Alternate universes/dimensions were pretty uncommon because the idea of alien planets still held a lot of wonder to it. So, as a general rule, don’t try to go farther than the one galaxy.

ATOM is a setting for stories that are focused on humanity learning to coexist with monsters, rather than humanity destroying them. A certain level of sympathy is put into almost every creature of its canon, even the ones that are meant to be villains.

REFERENCE MATERIAL

Here is a playlist of 1950′s monster movie trailers.

Here is some reference material from various monster comics of the 50′s and 60′s.

Good movies to track down to understand ATOM’s inspiration and tone include Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster, Son of Godzilla, Destroy All Monsters, Them!, The Black Scorpion, 20 Million Miles to Earth, Gamera, The Giant Claw, and The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra.

And here’s the intro cutscenes for all the different giant monsters in the PS2 videogame War of the Monsters.

#The Atomic Time of Monsters #The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3D

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tuanhood · 4 years

Text

theta

pairing: frat!bambam x reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+, language, cringey frat stuff, fingering

word count: 4,400+

summary: you haven’t been doing so well in stats, so your tutor - the last person you thought would be teaching you something - recommends giving you an incentive.

a/n: hi guys! i’m a little late... but it’s kinda technically still the weekend? ngl this definitely isn’t my best work and I’m sorry for that because I feel like I’ve been lacking a little bit lately! but i promise that i have a few things in the works that will hopefully be better! but nonetheless enjoY!

“Okay so in a college class, the average IQ is 115. Assuming that the distribution is normal and that the standard deviation is 15. What percentage of the class has an IQ between 105 and 130?”

You felt like you were going to die.

When you were a little girl, you’d fantasize about all the fun and cool things you’d be able to do in college. Stay up late, hang out with your friends all the time, eat whatever you wanted, and take the classes that would help you become the best-selling author you aspired to be.

In all of those daydreams and fantasies, you never pictured yourself in practical agony studying for a statistics class that you never wanted to take in the first place. You were more of an English and critical analysis girl, definitely not a science and math girl. Especially not stats.

You told yourself probably a hundred times throughout the quarter that you could make it through. That you could maybe actually do this, but sometime between weeks three and four you got completely lost and when you received your midterm grade back, you knew you had to ask for help.

“I don’t fucking know,” you exhaled in frustration as you practically slammed your head down onto the table in front of you.

There’s a pause before Bambam lets out a sigh of his own, “let’s come back to that one later then.”

This was how most of your sessions with Bambam went. He’d read the questions out loud to you as if was going to help, hope that you’d be able to solve it – which you typically wouldn’t – and then you’d give up in frustration. Then you’d call it a day.

That was another thing. Another thing that made this whole tutoring thing even worse – you were being tutored by Bambam. As in Bambam of Theta Chi.

As dumb as you felt saying it, but you felt even more pathetic for having to be so terrible at stats that you have to be tutored by a frat boy. Sure he came highly recommended by the people at your school that put together and pair people off for the tutoring sessions, but it didn’t get rid of the pain you felt when you had to tell your friends who exactly was helping you pass stats. Or… at least trying to help.

“Okay, so what is the probability of rolling snake eyes using two fair dice?”

Maybe you were being shallow, but even his voice screamed frat guy and not the master of statistics who is now teaching his peers. You don’t know why but it aggravated you. Traditionally he wasn’t supposed to be good at these kinds of things, someone like you was. It didn’t make sense.

You groaned, your head still on the table, muffled by the surface, “I don’t know? 1/36?”

At your answer, you could feel Bambam straighten up beside you. You had to admit the boy was a trooper for being willing to meet you at your apartment today instead of your usual spot in the library or at Starbucks. You just couldn’t be bothered to make the trek to campus, if you were going to have another agonizing day of probability, deviation, and whatever – it was going to be from the comfort of your living room floor.

“Correct! See Y/N you’re not a lost cause.”

Bringing your head up from the coffee table, you grimace at him, “I never said I was a lost cause.”

His cheeks turned a shade of light pink, clearly embarrassed by his statement, but being the cool and easygoing frat guy, he is – he covers it up, “I know. Dude, I’m just saying, chill.” Leave it to Bambam to cover up any real emotions.

Even though it was frustrating that you were being tutored by a guy in Theta Chi and you felt lame whenever you admitted to anyone, it didn’t necessarily mean that you had anything against Bambam. Before he had started tutoring you, the encounters you had with Bambam were fine – certainly not an “oh my god you are so freaking annoying” situation. They were minimal of course, just a hello or a how are you at various school events or parties. You didn’t hate him, which was why at the beginning between the studying you had tried to talk to him and get to know him. But he never said anything real or authentic – it always felt like he was putting on some kind of ultra-frat boy act for you. Whenever you asked questions about him, things he liked to do, what he was studying or his family he would simply shy away from it and talk about Theta Chi. You didn’t get it.

“Bambam is so freaking deep. I had a two-hour drunk conversation with him at Theta Chi’s party last weekend and my mind has been opened.” Your friend had told you when you told her about him tutoring you.

So what? Did he have to be drunk to want to talk to you about something other than probability? Or was it just that he didn’t want to talk to you? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it bothered you a little too much for some unexplainable reason.

“I am chill,” you confirmed with him – a bit too bitterly. You couldn’t tell if your annoyance came from the ongoing frustration of not understanding stats regardless of how many times you’ve met with Bambam or the fact that he was constantly shying away from you two actually getting to know each other.

“Well…” he began suddenly, swallowing almost nervously, “what if we work on a rewards-based system?”

You scoffed at him, “what am I? A child?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Listen… all I’m saying is that rewards or a prize can be a good motivator sometimes. It definitely can’t hurt the studying process.”

There was a part of you that felt annoyed at Bambam for thinking that the only way that you were going to understand any of this was through some kind of incentive. An incentive that had nothing to do with your overall goal which was to not fail the class. However, you had to admit you were curious as to what Bambam could bring to the table when it came to “rewards,” so you decided to play along – for now.

“What kind of motivators are we talking about?”

For a second you swear you see Bambam fidget nervously in his seat, but it happens so quickly, you’re sure it must be your brain playing a trick on you, “I don’t know… I’m literally the co-social chair of Theta Chi so I pretty much can get you whatever you want. Booze, drugs… sex.”

At his last “category” for rewards, your interest is peeked, but not in a weird or perverted way – you swear, “what the social chair orchestrates and plans sexual encounters now?”

He laughed and shakes his head, “definitely not. I’m just saying… If there was anyone you were interested in at Theta Chi… I could probably set it up for you. I mean you’re definitely not bad looking so I don’t think it would be difficult.”

You were half pleased by Bambam’s compliment and intrigued that by the fact that it seemed like perhaps his “non-tutoring” personality was emerging from the surface. It caused you to push more regarding his “reward” if it meant that you could see more of it, “So what? I solve the next equation and I get to fuck Im Jaebeom? Is that how this works?”

He clicked his tongue, “Jaebeom, huh? Wouldn’t have thought he would be your type.”

For some reason, you suddenly felt a wave of nervousness rush through your body and you feel defensive as though you have to explain yourself for some reason, “No- I mean it was just an example.”

Bambam nodded his slowly and looked away from you for the first time since he brought up the incentive thing. His focus goes back to the textbook in front of both of you, “It’s okay if he is. Jaebeom’s a chill guy.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, for a moment there you almost got a hint of something from him. You weren’t quite sure as to what, but it almost felt like he was… jealous? But then he has to cower away and go back to stats… That was technically why he was sitting in your living room, but right now this seemed like the least important thing going on.

“What is it with you and chill? Does everything need to be chill? Why can’t you just be… normal?”

He laughed at your query, “What if being chill is normal for some people?”

You grabbed the pencil in front of you and tapped it on the table rhythmically in thought, “Chill people aren’t masters at stats. That’s just a fact.”

Bambam’s face goes into fake shock, “really? Damn well, I guess that’s why you haven’t learned anything the last month that we’ve been doing this.”

It’s obvious that it was meant as a playful dig, to tease you, but Bambam feels his heart race when you simply frown in response instead of laugh. It was clear that he had gone too far. This was the thing he had been most worried about this entire time he had been tutoring you.

He had heard from one of his brothers in Theta who knew a friend of yours that you felt embarrassed by being tutored by a frat guy – by him. Hearing that certainly didn’t make him feel good, but he tried his best to help you the last month or so. He didn’t want to do or say anything that could allude to “frat guy” behavior – so most of the time he tried to keep conversations statistics related. Part of him felt like it was because he was offended by your embarrassment, but another part of him felt like it was maybe because he wanted to impress you. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t the typical frat guy because you probably didn’t like that.

But he had to admit… in certain ways, he was the typical frat guy and restricting that part of himself meant restricting segments of his personality. The teasing – that was apart of it.

“Shit – y/n I’m sorry I didn’t actually mean it. I meant it more like-”

At his quick and panicked response, you burst out into a fit of giggles, “dude I can be chill too. I was just fucking with you. Now come on… let’s keep working, I want my prize.”

Bambam lets out a sigh in relief. Maybe he had misjudged you, “so you do want a reward?”

“Of course, I want a reward.”

He licked his lips in thought and you have to admit it’s hard not to stare, “okay what should we start with?”

You began to tap the pencil on your chin instead of the table, thinking about what exactly it was you wanted. When you finally have your grand prize in mind, you figure it’s better to start small.

“I don’t want to be charged cover at any future Theta Chi parties.”

He looked at you with surprise written on his face, “you go to our parties?”

You rolled your eyes at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, he can’t help but admire how cute you look when you do it, “of course. They’re the biggest parties on campus… why wouldn’t I go?”

Bambam shrugged, “I just didn’t think you liked frat stuff…” drifting off he looks to see the confusion written on your face and he doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he feels the need to keep talking, “Unless it’s for Jaebeom.” Immediately he wants to punch himself in the face for his continual teasing.

You thought it was funny how he was stuck on the Jaebeom thing. You had just said his name as an example – something you already explained to Bambam – but for some reason, it seemed to bother him. Bambam was more your type than Jaebeom, but it would have been weird if you had brought him up as an example.

“What was that?”

His voice causes your body to jolt up in surprise. Had he heard you? No way.

“Y/N what did you just say?” Bambam asked once again.

The second question regarding what you had just said sends you into a frenzy, considering he was the last person who had just said something based on your recollection. Therefore… he fucking heard you.

“Did I say that out loud?” You asked embarrassed and judging on the look on Bambam’s face – you have your answer.

You felt your mouth go dry, “I- shit… Bam I didn’t mean- Well I mean I did, but- Fuck I-” you cut off your stuttering with nervous laughter and you feel more awkward than you’ve probably ever felt in your adult life.

Rather than saying anything, Bambam looks at you curiously. A hint of a smile appears on his face but soon disappears as if he’s thought of an idea or just something. Hopefully, an idea to get me out of this, you think to yourself. Instead, he scoots closer next to you on the floor and for a moment you have to remind yourself to exhale.

“Instead of the cover as your reward… What about…” he begins, placing his right hand onto your thigh, “this? Is this okay?” If you had to keep your breathing in check just when he moved closer to you, then you felt like you were going to need to be resuscitated now.

Rather than verbally answering, you nodded your head, afraid to open your mouth in case the wrong thing came out.

Keeping his hand placed firmly on your thigh, he asked you the next question, “Suppose X and Y are independent random variables. The variance of X is equal to 16; and the variance of Y is equal to 9. Let Z = X – Y. What is the standard deviation of Z?”

It’s becoming harder to concentrate. All you can focus on is the placement of his hand on your thigh and when you don’t answer right away, he begins to move it up and down your leg.

“Come on, I know you can do this one,” he said softly.

You couldn’t believe that your tutoring session was now taking a sharp turn – a turn that you had to admit you were now craving – but Bambam was still expecting you to be focused enough to answer questions. You weren’t able to typically do it even when you didn’t have his hand on you.

It’s almost as though you’re on autopilot as you put your pencil to paper and work out the problem. The only thing on your mind is the curiosity of what his next move will be if you answer him correctly.

“5?”

He gives you your answer by drifting his hand up your thigh until it sits at the top of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You wonder if he can tell how damp you’ve become, even with the sweatpants you’re wearing. It was probably evident just by looking at your face.

“A coin is tossed three times. What’s the probability that it lands on heads exactly one time?”

This was becoming frustrating. How the fuck were you getting turned on by him asking you stats questions? You felt like your brain was about to explode with how completely mixed up it felt. The cause of your stress for the entire quarter was now the cause of you being turned on? Your mind was currently rewiring itself.

For this question, it takes you some time to focus enough to work it out and calculate. Bambam who is usually patient with you when you struggle, has instead been replaced with a much more impatient version of himself as he slips his hand up to the waistband of your sweatpants, delicately playing with the top to tease you, you suddenly wished you would have worn better underwear for what’s about to happen. If you could answer the question that is.

Just as you feel as though you’ve come to the end of the problem, you feel him dip a single finger underneath the top of the band, rubbing it softly against your stomach. It causes your hand to slip up on the paper, drawing a line right through your problem.

“What’s wrong?” He asked innocently, completely aware of what he was doing to you, “do you need help?”

You shook your head in response, unable to say anything. It was becoming more and more difficult to even get your hand to move fluidly on the paper. It was instead starting to get more jagged. Your fives were beginning to look more like threes. When you’ve finally solved the problem, you find yourself pointing at the paper for Bambam to look at your answer. He laughed.

“Correct again. You’re doing so well,” he murmured as he finally dips his hand beneath the band of your sweatpants and down to your panties. You sucked a deep breath in, waiting in anticipation for his next actions, feeling him so much closer to where you need him the most, but instead, his hand just rests there, over the material.

Letting a very out of character whine escape your lips causes him to chuckle. “Do you think you can have your reward that fast? No, no,” he tutted, “you have to finish answering all the questions like a good girl.”

You try so hard to remember the next question he asks, but he soon begins gently rubbing you through your panties and it makes you want to kill him for playing so dirty. How were you able to solve any problems when it felt like an actual ocean was forming in your underwear? You knew Bambam could feel it too with the way his gaze on you got even darker, one of his fingers wandering to the side of your panties, playing with the hem but not daring to slip underneath.

What the fuck was the question?

“Having trouble angel?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer – even if he did you weren’t sure you’d be able to provide him with one – instead, he slips his hand underneath your panties until his fingers find your entrance, slowly stroking up and down. You let out a moan when he’s left his index finger on your clit, rubbing small circles around the bundle of nerves.

“It can’t be that hard to remember a simple question. Is something distracting you?”

Another sigh of pleasure is released from you when he presses down a bit to place more pressure on your clit, “I’ll ask you one more time. You have to remember this time or you lose your reward, okay? Are you listening?”

Nodding your head, he smiled, “The standard normal curve is symmetric about 0 and the total area under it is 1. True or False?”

Bambam himself was losing his patience, he so badly wanted to bring you to your release and see how tight you get around his fingers, how much you ask him for it. He had to admit that wasn’t the original question he had asked you, but at this rate, he just wanted to ask you the easier questions so both of you could get what you wanted.

“T-True?” You managed to stutter out.

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered into your ear at your response. The teasing had been so achingly painful that when he finally fully inserts his pointer finger you feel like a kid on Christmas. You feel as though you can finally let out the breath you had been holding in since he started the taunting.

The pace he starts with is clearly another method to get you worked up – which you certainly are – but you also felt thankful that at least it was something compared to the nothing you were getting from him previously. When he curls his finger, hitting you in the spot that drives you crazy, you felt your body instinctively jerk forward in surprise. He had found it so fast and with such ease, you wondered if the two of you had down this before in another life.

“Bam, I-” you begin, but as his thumb draws circles over your clit, you ultimately lose your train of thought and fall even closer into him, until your head is resting on his shoulder.

“There’s one more question left… Do you think you can handle it?”

The whimper you let out sounds borderline inhumane and in any other situation you would be frustrated with yourself for giving in so quickly, but right now you didn’t care. All you needed was him to keep going – to really give you your reward. The noise is enough for him to dive into the last question and you feel like you’re gonna pass out at the way he begins to rhythmically tap your clit, his finger now going stagnant.

His eyes drift down to the textbook on the table, gazing through which questions on the page are still viable to be asked. After a moment he locks eyes with you, the tapping still consistent.

For a moment he looks shy and despite his previous teasing, you feel your heart leap out of your chest in deep want and longing. It’s a weird feeling you have to admit, but somehow it feels just right.

“What’s the probability of you going out on a date with me after this?” Bambam blushed when he asked you his query and for some reason, he feels so small being in front of you – asking this – despite his current position with his hand in between your legs.

You, on the other hand, have no trouble answering this final question. The question that’ll get you your reward and perhaps something else entirely.

“Without a doubt, 100% chance.”

The smile that emerged on his face is so big, you take a picture of it in your mind, wanting to keep it safe and bottle it up to view later, a hundred times over.

He slipped in another finger, watching your face as it contorts into even more pleasure, “there we go.”

You felt a groan arise in your throat as soon as he began to pick up the original pace of his sole finger. With both of them curling and pumping in and out of you, you felt even more overwhelmed than before. Bambam smirked, taking in your tightly shut eyes, “Good?” Opening your eyes, you felt your climax right around the corner, only able to moan his name in response to his question. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured, leaning in to place his lips on your own.

Somehow, the pace of his fingers only increased, practically fucking into you over and over, hitting your g-spot each time. Even though you were sat on the floor, already mostly leaning onto Bambam for support, you still felt as though you could melt into the floor. With a final few pumps that hit your sweet spot and his thumb still massaging your clit, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers. “That’s it, good girl,” he said against your lips.

Soon you fall apart, feeling as though there’s no breath left in your body, your body falling practically limp at your release around Bambam’s fingers. He takes a moment to slip his hand out from between your legs and you don’t ignore the feeling you get in your core again when he slowly places his fingers in his mouth.

You groaned, feeling like you were practically in a sedative state at how relaxed your release made you feel, “do you have to do that?”

Bambam narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Be so damn seductive.”

The two of you look at each other before bursting into laughter at your very serious confession. After a moment when it’s silent you look down at your lap to realize that somewhere during your encounter with Bambam, your sweatpants managed to slip down to the bottom of your thighs.

“I should probably go get cleaned up…”

Bambam coughed awkwardly and turned to his things on the coffee table, “yeah… I guess I should probably just get my stuff together too and get out of your hair.”

Get out of your hair? Who the fuck says that Bam? He asked himself.

You looked at him with confusion, “I thought you were taking me out? Remember? 100% chance? I mean… unless you didn’t mean it…”

His eyes went big, “No!” he exclaimed, “I definitely meant it! I just didn’t know if maybe you said it in the moment and- Or I don’t maybe you did mean it- but also if you didn’t that’s cool. Just so you know I would have still given you your- uh reward if you had said no- Sorry I’m rambling. I ramble when I get nervous.”

When he stops talking, he instantly avoids your gaze. This was the Bambam you wanted to see. This display of authenticity made you feel as though the curtain had finally been drawn.

“I said it because it was true. The likeliness was 100%. Give me like 15 minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” just as you’re about to head to the stairs, you stop yourself and remember why the two of you were even here in the first place, “shit stats…”

Instantly, Bambam shakes his head, “if you think we’re going to go back to probability, standard deviation, and bullshit right now after what just happened you are very mistaken. We’ve done enough… work for today.”

Smiling, you nodded your head in confirmation and begin to go up the stairs to your room. Considering something, you find yourself stopping on the third stop, turning towards the living room where Bambam looks up at you with his head cocked to the side.

“You picked easier questions towards the end on purpose, didn’t you?”

He let out a laugh and grinned – another smile that you decided to file away in your memories, something that you figured might soon become a regular part of your life.

“Let’s just say that I wanted to give you your reward as much as you wanted to have it.”

#got7 smut #got7 fanfic #got7 #bambam #bambam smut

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

Out of curiosity, do Callie and chris ever run into each other/ confront each other after

CW: Referenced head-banging and resulting injury, brief ableism references, gaslighting, vaguely referenced institutional pet whump

(for context, see This Isn’t Hypothetical For Chris, “Can You Come Get Me?”, No Words, and Drop)

“Um. Hey.”

Chris, in the midst of a careful, incredibly precise drawing of a tiny Easter Island moai while studying for the Non-Western Art History test, looks up, only to freeze, his fingers tensing around his pencil until he presses so hard the lead snaps off, rolling down the notebook.

His hair is pulled back, caught at his nape with a clip Mari let him borrow, but he wishes all at once that it weren’t, so he could shake it over his face, hide behind it. That it wasn’t blue but some color no one saw in a crowd, so she wouldn’t have seen him and known it was him.

He hesitates too long, and she shifts, moving herself into his field of vision again. “Chris, are you-... are you busy?”

“Hey, um, hi... hi, Callie,” Chris mumbles, looking back down again, clicking the end of the mechanical pencil to get more lead, enjoying the sound and the very slight press of the eraser against his thumb. “I’m just, just studying. What, um, what do, do, do-do you... what do you want?”

She seems to take it as an invitation, which it isn’t. When she pulls out the chair across the table, the legs scrape along the floor impossibly loudly, but only Chris seems bothered by it. The sound makes his teeth itch, a feeling he can’t possibly describe in any other way. When he moves the chair, he picks it up, carefully placing it back down, avoiding the sound that shudders through him and digs into the tiniest bones.

Everyone else just scrapes.

She tucks some of her own bouncy, wavy brown hair behind one ear. It’s chilly today, it was so foggy this morning Chris could barely see from one side of the bridge to the other when he crossed over the highway to the other side of campus to get some coffee to help him cram before the test. Callie is wearing a heavy cable-knit sweater that drapes just so off one shoulder, showing the silken strap there, and skintight dark jeans. She looks really pretty, but Chris mostly thinks everyone looks pretty.

Even Dylan in the morning looks pretty, with his hair all messed up. Even though Chris is still kind of mad at him and probably always will be.

Chris is in his usual thick black compression shirt, helping him hold off the weight of the lights, keeping the prickle of the Student Center from digging too deeply into his skin. Over that, a t-shirt from the Lion King musical that Mari brought back from her last trip home - (”I have like five, now, Chris, I’ve seen it in like six different places you can have this one, if you want? It’s from when I saw it in Chicago.” And of course he did, he is starting a small collection of shirts he had gotten from nearly everyone he knows), and one of Jake’s heavy sweater-coats, borrowed - but really stolen - from the house last weekend. Jake pretends not to know. Chris brings them back eventually.

Between Chris and Kauri, it’s a miracle Jake ever has anything warm to wear at all.

“So, I just-... I wanted to, um. I haven’t seen you around-... oh, did you get hurt?” She cocks her head to the side, and Chris looks away from her, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his foot tapping on the ground now, nervous energy bubbling inside him.

There’s a bandage, still, on his forehead. He wishes he could say it was from the day in class, but it’s not. It’s from a few days ago, after meeting with the grad student to sign stuff to drop the class. It’s from coming home with all his hurt and fear a spinning top that he could only calm by breaking its rhythm, and he’s, it’s regression, but it’s okay, sometimes you go back and you get back up and go forward again, Dr. Berger says it’s okay sometimes to backslide as long as you know you have people to help you get up-

“I’m fine,” He says, flat and smooth words, barely his own voice at all. “Hit my head on, on, on a cabinet.”

Technically true.

She nods, folding her hands in her lap, watching him with those sort of big sad eyes people get sometimes, when they’re working up to something and want you to know they’re not the bad guy. Her drink has a cloth sleeve on it with tiny little bow ties. He wonders if she made it herself.

She clears her throat. “Okay, um. Good to hear it. So... I just... I heard you dropped.”

“Yep.” Chris keeps his eyes down now, on his pencil. The gentle weight of his feather necklace reminds him that he has other options, too. For now, though, he spins his pencil on top of his open notebook, the drawing of the moai. “Who told you that, um, that-... that I, I dropped?”

“I mean, when you weren’t in class for a couple weeks-... you know at first I thought you just, like, you know... the teacher told you not to come by, but then you kept not coming, and...” She kind of throws her hands up. Hers are painted a cheerful blue-toned red. Chris’s are black, but they’re heavily chipped. He’s been picking at them again. “I asked Esh, finally, and he said-”

“Eshiram.”

“What?” She blinks, confused.

“Not Esh. His, his, his name’s Eshiram.”

“No, I know, I just-... whatever. Look, so, I get that you’re probably still pretty mad, and... I’ve kind of been trying to hunt you down to say I’m sorry.”

Chris, caught off guard, pauses in spinning his pencil and turns to look at her again. “What?”

“About... I would never, ever have wanted you to feel you had to drop the class, Chris, I swear.” She leans forward, all earnest sincerity, and there’s a look of guilt on her that makes him think she means it. It wasn’t her idea, after all - if she’s even fucking talking to him, she doesn’t know what he is, she didn’t catch it like the grad student did.

After the drawn out moment, his foot starts to tap on the floor again. “It’s, um, it’s, it’s, it’s okay,” He says, wishing he had his own drink, something to hold in his hands and sip. The nerves start to wind up inside him, and he drops one hand down where she can’t see it, starts to tap on the side of his thigh.

“No, it’s not.” Callie sighs, shaking her head. Her hair moves with the motion and he catches a hint of her shampoo, it smells like fruit and honey. “It’s not, Chris. Look, I just-... I took everything you said super personally, and that wasn’t okay. I get that you, you know, you weren’t really talking about me.”

Chris turns to look at her, blinking wide green eyes, thinking, Yes, I was.

He opens his mouth to maybe tell her, but the pause goes on too long and she’s already talking again before he can. “There’s all these reports about abuse, and everything, I swear more than ever, and it just-... puts me on edge, you know? So I heard you saying-... well, you know. You don’t know that things are better at our house. All you know is what you’ve, you know, seen on the news.”

Chris takes in a breath and holds it, tapping hard against the seam of his jeans. He isn’t going to get angry. Getting angry made him have to drop and lose points off his GPA, getting angry gets him noticed by too many people all at once, angry feels heavy and hurting, angry draws attention, attention mean eyes and hands and-

Let the breath out. Exhale. He has to purposefully remind himself to do it.

“I, I, I know more than, um, than that,” He manages to say, but his voice is small. He’s no good at being angry, when it’s not in the moment, when there’s nothing to draw him out of himself. “I don’t, don’t just... build sets all day, Callie, I’m, I’m, I know other, um, other things.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Like, I’m surprised you’re not, like, a math major or something, like in that movie-”

Chris sits back and snorts out bitter laughter. “You, you, you mean, um, The Gift?”

“Yeah! Vincent Shield did such a good job, they said he did a bunch of like, work to really get into character which is so cool since he was only, like, sixteen when he did that one with that, you know, the other guy he did movies with all the time-”

“Owen-... Owen Grant.”

“Yeah! I wonder what happened to him. Anyway-”

“Do you, do... do, do, do you think-... Callie, I suck at, um, at math.” Chris can’t help himself. He starts to laugh at the absurdity, and Callie looks like he’s hit her across the face, wide-eyed, shocked. “This is, um, this, this is, this-... this is a really, really-... really bad apology.”

“Yeah, I know.” Callie kind of laughs along with him, then, but there’s something fake and brittle to her laughter. “But I swear, I just came to say I’m sorry. It was just a misunderstanding, I really didn’t mean for you to have to drop. I swear, Chris, I don’t, like, hate you or think anything bad about you-”

You called me a fucking spastic.

“-or anything like that. I just... can you forgive me for losing my temper? I’m sorry, it’s just, when my family is attacked by people who don’t even know us, I get super defensive, and-... and I should have realized you weren’t really attacking us, just, you know, the system.”

Chris stares down at his shoes. He thinks, you are the system, it doesn’t exist without people like you who buy us, but he doesn’t say anything.

She seems to take this as agreement.

It isn’t.

“So, yeah. I’m just... I’m really sorry, Chris. Will this throw your whole, you know, graduation and everything off, or do you think you’ll still be good?”

Does she even really care? Chris swallows and raises his head, to look at her again, fixing his eyes just slightly to the left of her face, where it won’t be obvious he isn’t focused on her. An old trick, one he used to do to stay safe in training, maybe... maybe before that.

Even though he can’t remember a before that anymore.

Because of people who buy people like him.

“I’ll, um, I’ll be good,” He says, and the words taste like dust and feel like gravel on his tongue. “I worked out a, a, a-a plan with, with my, um advisor. So I’ll... I’ll be-”

so good for you

“Fine.”

“Great.” She relaxes, all smiles again, and reaches over putting her hand over his left arm, gripping a little. Chris feels the weight of it like the clap of restraints forcing him down on a table and stiffens, looking right at her the way he’s supposed to.

Years go by, but the training isn’t gone. Not all the way.

“Listen,” She says, voice low. “I really am sorry. But you just-... can’t go around thinking everybody who does something you don’t like is bad, you know?”

His heart races in his throat, he can barely swallow around it. “Yes,” He says, softly. She doesn’t hear the first stirrings of panic. But he feels them. “I... know.”

Good boy.

“I’ll see you around, Chris, okay? I’m glad we talked about this.” She pats his arm, like a handler almost, and then pushes herself to her feet. The chair scrapes back and Chris’s teeth grind together as the sound ricochets around inside him. The dim warm lights overhead lay heavily over the fabric he wears to protect himself from touch like that.

It’s not enough.

He can still feel the hand on his arm as she walks away, heads out the double-doors and is gone.

Chris’s hand slides to the feather and he pushes the silicone plastic between his teeth, letting his tongue press up against the carved vanes, sinking into the familiar sensation, letting it wrap around him, calm his pulse, help him rebuild the thin wall he needs between himself and the world.

He stares blankly off into space, chewing the feather, unnoticed by the few other people in the Student Center this early in the morning.

She probably feels so much better.

Like so many other people in his life, she made herself feel better by making Chris feel so much worse.

After a while, still chewing on the feather, he picks his pencil back up and starts to draw another moai.

He’s probably going to fail this test.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #trauma recovery #caledonia and her family #box boy #box boy universe #ableism tw #stimming #neurodivergent whumpee #recovering whumpee #gaslighting tw #bbu capitalism #honestly I suppose it kind of hits on that #trauma response #conditioning

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

The Mystic Garden: Sowing

Chapters: 1/5

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: death

Characters: Loki(Marvel)

Additional Tags: Infinity War Doesn’t Exist, Everybody Lives, Mutants Exist In The MCU, The Reparations Of Loki Of Asgard

Summary: Despite S.H.I.E.L.D. becoming a smaller and more selective organization, Loki still finds himself assigned to them upon Asgard's arrival on Earth. Required to perform a kind of specialized community service, Loki is paired up with another outcast, of a kind he is not familiar with: A mutant named Iris.

Loki of Asgard was a very beautiful man.

Loki of Asgard was a very powerful man.

Loki of Asgard was a very dangerous man.

And that was about all that anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. could agree on about Loki of Asgard.

To some, he was an asshole. To others, perfectly charming. To yet more, he was polite, but distant. Funny. Serious. Sarcastic. Aloof. Morbid. Morose. Intimidating. Shy. Threatening. Angry. Flirty. Each person Iris asked described him in a different way.

To Iris, he was a looming presence, staring her down with searing intensity. Her shiny, brand new partner. Joy.

“So you're the unfortunate one.” He grumbled. “Winner of the worst lottery this organization has ever thrown.”

“I'm Iris Devereaux.” She said, holding out her hand. “Pleased to finally meet you.”

He glanced at her hand with a sneer. “No you aren't.”

“Beg pardon?”

“No one is pleased to meet me.”

“Oh. Well. Here's the thing: you don't decide that for me.”

He raised one perfect eyebrow, tilting his head back.

“I don't tolerate men telling me what I do and don't think or feel. Only I can know that. Now, you gonna shake my hand or not, Mister 'of Asgard'?”

Loki harrumphed. “As you demand, Miss 'of the Riverbank'.”

“What?” Iris took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He allowed it, but drew his hand back the instant she released it.

“Your surname. It means 'riverbank'. Didn't you know? Named after a goddess, and yet you seem to have lived humbly.”

“I'm named after a flower.” Iris corrected.

“The flower was named after the goddess.” He re-corrected. “The personification of the rainbow, a messenger of the gods. She who waters the clouds with her ocean-filled pitcher, flying on glowing, golden wings to carry the pleas of mankind to the gods they prayed to. As she connected the sea and the sky, her rainbows connected mankind to the gods. Just as our Bifrost connected Asgard to Midgard with the beauty and magnificence of the rainbow.”

“Oh, please.” Another agent groaned from their nearby work station. Loki glared.

“Well, that's...informative.” Iris said. Was this what Loki was like? Standoffish, unless given something to talk about? He was certainly well-spoken. “I'm pretty sure my parents just had the flower in mind though.”

“A delicate goddess, an ephemeral rainbow, or a nodding blossom on the riverbank: it all paints a pretty picture, does it not?” He asked.

Iris narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“I wonder.” Loki said.

“Will you two just go get some coffee or something?” the other agent snapped. “I've got to finish this by ten hundred.”

“Fine, jeez, keep your vest on.” Iris said. Loki glared once again. “C'mon, there's a thousand break rooms on this old boat. We can take one over for ourselves.”

*****

“Who was that cur?” Loki demanded as Iris programmed the coffee machine for two cups. “Who does he think he is talking to? I am still a prince of Asgard, and a god! No pencil-pushing desk monkey speaks to me that way!”

“Hey, cool your chops.” Iris said, getting the mugs. “The pencil-pushing desk monkeys keep this whole show running. Who do you think runs this boat? Where does our intel come from? Who finds out if it's any good or not? Who does the budgets, communication, tech, cleanup, triage, programming, and supplies? The heroes get the fame, sure, but we're ultimately expendable. These guys own this shindig. Do you like caramel?”

“I...might?” He said, and Iris added a squirt of syrup to each steaming mug, then handed him his. “And you might be expendable, but I most certainly am not.”

“Cheers, bro. I'll drink to that.” Iris raised her mug in his direction and took a long gulp of fresh, caramel coffee. Oh boy, this was gonna be fun.

Loki seemed perplexed, either by the flavor of the coffee, or her casual acceptance of his declaration.

“Not that it will come to that.” He backtracked. “As my partner, you will have the advantage of my protection.”

“Joy. So, your highness, what's landed you here? You aren't exactly known as a friend to mankind. Why join S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He harrumphed as Iris took another long pull from her mug. “You say 'join' as if I was given a choice. This is penance, nothing more. It was decided when Asgard had to relocate here, that I would work for a 'humanitarian' organization. Save lives equal to those whose deaths I was responsible for. Work towards paying off the cost it took to rebuild. And so I perform the Reparations of Loki of Asgard, defending this realm from itself. Once I have accomplished this, I will leave.”

“Mhm. And how far have you gotten?”

“It's only been a few months.” He huffed. “So not nearly as far as I'd like. How did they lure you in?”

Iris shrugged. “Job's a job. This one is steady, has good benefits, and it certainly keeps me engaged. It's no daily grind, that's for sure.”

“But with your power, could you not be a leader of some sort, rather than in a subservient 'expendable' position?”

“Ah. You've read my file.”

“Of course I did. As I assume you've read mine. Prying things. Why do they need so many personal details? But yes. It mentioned that you have an unusual power, beyond others of your type? Why are you not in charge?”

“Hoo boy.” Iris took a seat across from him. “You don't know much about human social structure, do you?”

Loki frowned. “It was never supposed to matter.”

“Well, it matters now. And it's mattered to me my whole life, because I can't just run off home to fairy tale land, so it looks like we both have no choice but to deal with it. You know what a mutant is?”

“I know what the word means, but I don't know how it applies to you.” Loki said, perplexed. “You look like any other human to me, so I assume it is something internal?”

Now it was Iris' turn to harrumph. “Well, you look like any other Asgardian to me, so I guess we've both got something going on under our skin, don't we? Tell you what: you explain to me what a 'frost giant' is, and I'll explain what a 'mutant' is in this context.”

“And if I refuse?” Loki sneered.

“Then I do too.” Iris said simply.

Loki stared at her across the table, the intensity of his gaze as hot as the coffee, and Iris tried her best to pretend to be unaffected by it. It wasn't that he wasn't intimidating, but an unfortunate lifetime of bigotry and constant background danger had given her a skin as thick as wood. Well, her mutation had done that as well.

“I can do this all day.” He warned.

“Alright.” Iris shrugged.

A few very awkward minutes passed, a silence spent sipping coffee, until her supervisor, Chris Timmitz, interrupted.

“Iris! Loki. There you are! I've been looking for you two. Lucky to find you in the same place, you've got a job coming up.”

“Oh yeah? Lay it on me boss.” Iris said. Loki grimaced.

“We think we've got another possible HYDRA shelter, kinda out in the open this time. We need more intel. That's where you come in.”

“It's located next to a forest, isn't it?”

“A meadow, actually.” He said a bit sheepishly. “We need you to, uh, plant some bugs on the property.”

“Ha ha.” Iris said flat-voiced.

“Aw c'mon, I didn't come up with the terminology.”

“Was that some kind of insult?” Loki asked darkly. “Do you degrade your employees?”

“Well, it wasn't meant to be.” Chris explained. “It's not my fault the language is what it is. And what about you? Iris may act tough, but she's really sweet and sensitive, so you'd better act right-”

“Or what?” Loki challenged.

“Chris. Cut it out. We don't have to be chummy, we just have to get the job done.” Iris said. “So give us the details.”

“Right, right. We're starting Tuesday. It seems to be when the fewest people are there...”

****

Iris crawled through the tall grass of the meadow, the plants moving naturally around her, so as to not alert her enemies that she was there. The shelter was an old schoolhouse apparently, that HYDRA agents had taken over, ostensibly to restore the historical building and turn it into a museum...all the while sheltering their agents from the law, and pushing revisionist history in an effort to spread their doctrine through yet another small town. They had done this so many times before, changing the narrative, changing the perceptions of the people.

HYDRA had many heads. It was the symbolism of the thing. Some of those heads infiltrated governments, and worked to influence world policy. Other heads overran small towns, influencing the vote, which served to make the jobs of the others easier.

Some people in S.H.I.E.L.D. likened them to a virus to be quarantined, cut out, and destroyed. Iris saw them as a sickness to be cured. Anyone could change their minds, given reason. The trick was to find the reason. That wasn't her job, and she didn't think she'd be good at it, but she knew that there were anti-radicalization support groups popping up here and there now, and no wonder, with the state of the current administration. Iris knew HYDRA must have gotten their voice very well entrenched into the government.

But Iris was more directly concerned with these little heads, with blocking their progress, slowing them down, and just generally inconveniencing them.

She'd gotten the usual stares and glares, upon entering the little town, but it was hard to tell if it was HYDRAs influence, or just typical American small town prejudice when faced with a dark-skinned stranger. Either way, she wouldn't want to live here.

She settled down in the grass, stretched out on her belly, and the sod began to part beneath her. Loki, who had simply made himself invisible with his alien magics, and crept along beside her, was clearly capable of sneaking with the best of them. He barely displaced a blade of grass. He crouched down beside her.

“We are stopping here?” He whispered. “How shall you place your devices? Will you throw them?”

“No, My aim isn't that good.” Iris said, ignoring his smug “Mine is.”, and beginning to sink into the newly exposed soil.

“Uh...Miss Devereaux...are you aware that the earth appears to be swallowing you?”

“Don't worry about it, it's fine.” She wriggled her feet out of her flimsy sandals and into the dirt. She was positioned to just be able to see the old schoolhouse over the edge of the trough that had been excavated beneath her. That was all she needed.

“Certainly. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”

“You're one to talk. Hand me the bugs.”

There were only three of them: tiny things, no larger than the creatures they were named after. Iris took them, then tore a packet of seeds open with her teeth, pouring the contents into her hands.

“This is going to take me a pretty long time. Couple of days, probably. What I'm going to need the most from you is tending. Every hour, give me something to drink. Every four hours, give me something to eat. Make sure no one sweeps through here with a lawn mower or a fire. I'm not going to be able to move, and will likely be in something of a trance. Sorry I won't be better company.”

“That's a lot of orders coming from one little human.” Loki grumbled.

“My life is in your hands.”

“That's...a bit better.”

She pressed her hand against the earth in front of her, and concentrated.

For some minutes it didn't appear to Loki that anything was happening at all. Then the first of the thin, white roots began squirming out from between her fingers, roping around her hand.

Loki stretched out in the tall grass next to her as the roots slowly formed a ragged, grasping ball of pale worms against her chestnut skin. He remained silent for hours alongside her, dutifully holding a small bottle of water to her lips every hour or so. As she had said earlier, Iris lay very still, and very trance-like, drinking without acknowledging that she even knew he was there.

“Hmmm.” He whispered. “I hate being ignored, you know. I wonder if you can even hear me? Could you explain what it is that you are doing, or are you so far away that you cannot even answer? What would happen if I touched you right now, Goddess-Flower of the Riverbank? Would I break your concentration? Would you even notice?”

He opened one of the little ration packs, half of which were specifically labeled with Iris' name. Within were little brown cubes that smelled deeply unappetizing to Loki, formed from a slurry of many mysterious ingredients.

“A special recipe, just for you? S.H.I.E.L.D. must value you more highly than you have previously stated. Here you go, Bright Blossom.” He held the little cube to Iris' lips, which parted automatically to accept the cube. “And so I have become no more than a nutrient dispensary. How far I have fallen.”

He fed her the cubes, one by one. Every brush of her petal-velvet lips against his fingers tempted him to push them into her mouth, a temptation that brought a chuckle to his own lips. There were only so many games he would be allowed to play, before S.H.I.E.L.D. kicked him out entirely. He wasn't attached to S.H.I.E.L.D., or anyone within the organization, but working for them kept him active, kept him relevant, kept him engaged, and most importantly, kept him out of prison. Community service was infuriating, but he had experienced the soul-crushing torment of solitary confinement, and this was much preferable.

A cold, uncomfortable cell? Or laying in the grass on a warm, sunny day, hand-feeding a pretty girl?

He was very tempted to lay his hand on the small of her back, where her uniform had ridden up just enough to show a strip of glistening skin, but it wouldn't have the proper punch with Iris in this deep trance. Without reaction, there was no fun.

The roots winding their way up her arms were somewhat unsettling. Was this what her file had meant when it noted that she was a 'mutant'? That she could cause plants to sprout? Could other humans do that?

Hours later, when the sun had set, and the roots had wriggled into the soil all around her, and crawled their way up to her shoulders, Iris stirred.

“Mph. Man, I'm sore.” She complained.

“Ah, welcome back. There is a powerful desire I need you to fulfill.”

“Not on company time. There's trees over there, go behind them and, uh, work it out? Also, for next time, I really don't need to know.”

“You flatter yourself, or you underestimate me. What I want, is for you to explain what you are doing. Are you making those plants grow?”

“Oh. Yeah, basically. You read my file; you know I'm a mutant.”

“Yes, but I do not know the significance of the term.” Loki admitted. “Is it this? This magic you wield?”

“It's not magic, it's just...it's genetic. I was born this way. At first it was just little things. Gardens grew better wherever I went, I didn't get hungry as much when there was sunlight, I didn't need to drink as much as long as there was water on the ground. I grew up in a way rural community tucked away in the Everglades. We were real poor, so being outside and having wet and muddy feet was just normal for all the kids.

As I got older, the signs got more obvious. I can do things that plants can do. I can direct their growth, and I sorta...change with the seasons, depending on where I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eh, stick around long enough and you'll see. Anyway, people aren't too fond of mutants, and it got...tough. To live at home, I mean. So I went out into the wild, and I did pretty well there, but S.H.I.E.L.D. found me and offered me something else. Not every mutant is like me. There's a lot of different ways to be a mutant, it's unpredictable. Some folks can fly, others can turn their bodies into metal, and some can heal wounds to their body in seconds. I manipulate plants, and am, in some ways, like them.”

“I see. And you are causing these plants to grow for what purpose?”

“Spying purposes. It's gonna take a few days, but these vines will tunnel through the ground, all the way up to the school house. When they break ground, I'll send one of them up that tree there, another one around the frame of that window there, and the third down the chimney. You saw those little devices? They're holding those in packets of leaves, and will position them so that they remain hidden, but they consist of audio, video, and heat signature recorders. Once I've gotten them in place, we'll leave. That's all this mission is; bugs on plants.”

“Then why am I here?” He wondered. “You seem to have this well in hand.”

“Someone's gotta feed me. And make sure I don't get found out. There's rumors you can make magic illusions. That's probably why. You can hide us both from any eyes or cameras.”

“And I have.” Loki said proudly. “And fed and...watered you, Little Blossom. What else do you need from me?”

“To do it all again tomorrow.” Iris said. Then she dropped her head into the nest of roots, and settled down to sleep.

*****

Iris was awake and in her trance just as the first light of dawn kissed the horizon. Loki had been awake even before that, every swish of grass or crackle of leaves grabbing his attention.

“Rest.” He commanded her. “I have not the need of it that you do. Never forget: I am no weak mortal. You require a large amount of sleep, but I am all the greater.”

Iris had snorted at the bravado, but accepted the cubes he fed her, and fell into her trance, the roots curling further and further around her body.

Loki idly wondered how far the roots would go. Would they cocoon Iris entirely, prompting her to 'hatch' into a new form? Would they drag her down into the earth, entombing her away from Loki forever? Or would they just die back?

He watched people come and go to the old schoolhouse, working on its restoration. They looked for all the world like normal workers; he didn't even believe any of them to be armed. Not all HYDRA agents were combatants, after all. Just as many of them were spies, thieves, politicians, PR specialists and spin doctors.

Ever since what the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents called 'The Big Reveal', both organizations had been frantically rebuilding. S.H.I.E.L.D. more slowly, taking only the best, only the most trustworthy. Loki supposed he should be proud, even though he knew he was only there as a glorified prisoner.

HYDRA's recruits seemed to be skyrocketing, as they took to the internet in search of easily radicalized young men-mostly men, and boys-to bolster their numbers. They found plenty of them, and quickly, but they were sloppy and unpredictable. All too often, one let their ego overcome their loyalty to the cause, an event that almost always led to public confrontation and violence. But the news media-already infiltrated, most likely-was always quick to exonerate or sympathize with a young white man.

HYDRA disgusted Loki, even back when he had 'convinced' a small cell to work with him. No one group knew what the others were doing. There was a severe lack of communication between cells. Yes, Loki supposed it kept them safe from discovery, but he found it inefficient. A waste of potential by people more invested in the pageantry of a secret society, than by the end goal they hoped to achieve.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was little better, in his opinion, but at least its people were more serious about their work. Communication was more open, their goals more achievable. It felt like they made a difference, whether they really did or not. And they didn't waste potential. HYDRA would simply kill someone like Iris, S.H.I.E.L.D. found her valuable enough to spend resources on her. Under Loki's regime, had he succeeded, Iris, and all people like her, would have been of personal interest to him. All of these so-called 'mutants' would have been given places of high honor. Loki did not waste potential.

But that wasn't worth spending more time dwelling on. It was never meant to happen in the first place. When and where he would rule was yet to be discovered, but it would not happen until he was finished with his penance.

He provided Iris with her water, barely able to see her under all the roots. It was no wonder that she could not go into the field without a partner; she could not be ready for combat, couldn't even eat on her own! If they had to run, was he just supposed to tear her from the root wrapping and toss her over his shoulder? Would disconnecting her like that cause her harm?

He would have to ask next time she woke.

A young man approached, wielding an unfamiliar device. Loki was immediately on high alert. Was that some kind of weapon? He wandered all the way up to the verge of the grasses, gazing placidly out over the meadow. This was a HYDRA agent? He was barely out of adolescence! But from what Loki remembered of his brothers youthful declarations of hatred towards the Jotunn, radicalization did indeed start young.

“Naw, I think it must have been a glitch.” He said into his lapel. “There's nothing out here, not even trails in the grass.” He paused, listening. “Naw. Maybe it was a coyote? There's plenty of wild animals that wander around out here. My bro swears he saw a puma last year. Anyway, I'm gonna trim the grass, since I'm here anyway. If you're really worried, come out and check your cameras. I ain't gonna do it for you.”

With that, the young man yanked a long string, attached to a pod on the device, causing the thing to roar to life. Its loud snarl effectively covered Loki's startled gasp, his invisible eyes wide at the noise and the fact that everything within a six inch radius of the device's head was shredded and flung in all directions.

He had to maintain the illusion. But Iris was right in the horrible things' path. It would rip right into her face.

Unacceptable.

Loki rolled over on top of her, covering her body, roots and all, with his own. He ducked his head just as the device passed by. The force was like a high speed whip, tearing at his hair. It would have lacerated his scalp, possibly to the bone, had he been human. It would have certainly injured Iris, whom he kept safely tucked under his body, protected by his armor and tough, godly flesh.

The young man made a few more passes, working his way down the edge of the meadow, leaving Loki with a stinging scalp from his impromptu haircut, eventually leaving after finishing a rough, sub-par job.

Loki kept still, concentrating on maintaining the illusion, now including fresh cut grass. He feared it had wavered under the assault he had suffered, but the young man hadn't seemed to notice. Hours passed with no movement from Loki, just watching as various people came and went, doing their jobs. Eventually they all trickled away.

The sun had grown low in the sky before Loki felt Iris stir.

“Um. Loki? What are you doing? Did something happen?” Iris asked, her voice muffled by his body.

“Pardon me.” He rolled back into the grass as Iris shook her face free of the grasping roots. “Some boy came through here with a horrible device that tore up the grasses. It was necessary to cover you.”

Iris sniffed the air. “Someone cut the grass. Geez, did he hit you? Your hair!”

“Is it bad?” He asked, then covered his vanity. “It doesn't matter. I made good on my word. Here, eat.” He held food to her mouth. It would be almost too bad when this was over. Feeding her was so easy, so satisfying, and his hair would grow back anyway. If only all missions could be this easy.

Iris ate, watching the sunset, Loki laying on his side in the grass next to her, just watching her. Roots and shredded grass decorated her body, cube after cube passing her lips.

“Miss Devereaux, how will you remove yourself from those roots? If I must tear them, will it hurt you?”

Iris shook her head. “No, the roots aren't attached to me. If we pull this off without a hitch, I'll direct them into the soil. But if we have to get out in a hurry, you can tear them; it won't hurt me.”

“That's good to know.” Loki rolled onto his back, hands behind his head. “There is much still to learn about this realm. What is this that you are eating?”

“You sure you wanna know?” She asked.

“I am suddenly less curious, now that you have said that.” He admitted. “They do smell incredibly unappealing.”

“It's fertilizer, essentially. Fish emulsion and seaweed, blood and bone meal, fermented vegetables, all mashed together. Sounds super gross, I know,” She said at his disgusted expression. “But it's really good for me. My body absorbs it so efficiently that there isn't even any waste. Like roots inside me that absorb everything.”

“Are there? Roots inside you, I mean.”

“Sometimes.” Iris said quietly. “Maybe.”

“It bothers you? I see. It removes you from humanity. Sets you apart. And yet, you think that makes you inferior, rather than the other way around?”

“I'm not better than anybody else.” Iris said.

“You think not? Is there anyone else in this world who can do what you can do? How many people have your S.H.I.E.L.D. actively recruited? They came to find you specifically, why would they do that? Because you were completely average? You are a valued agent of a semi-clandestine organization bent on world improvement. You have been partnered to a god. You are above-average, Iris. Why is that difficult to accept?”

“Are you 'above average' in Asgard, Loki? Have you always been celebrated for it?”

“Mostly.”

“I haven't. I've been despised. I've been misunderstood. I've been coddled and hidden away by my parents in an attempt to protect me. I've been discriminated against by strangers, and teachers, and employers, and neighbors whose kids I grew up with. By those same kids.

I walked out into the wild one day, and didn't come back. I never planned on coming back, never planned on seeing another person ever again. But S.H.I.E.L.D. weren't the first to find me. There were two others. There was a man, a strange old man who could fly. He floated down from the sky, and told me that as a mutant, I was naturally superior to all other humans. He wanted me to come with him, said he was building some grand future for mutantkind, as if we were a different species.”

“Who was this man?” Loki asked, intrigued.

“No idea. I told him to leave. It wasn't long after I had left home, and I really didn't want to go back to any kind of civilization. I was kinda fantasizing about becoming some kind of cryptid, you know? The Everglades Swamp Witch, or something like that.

Then the botanists came. A whole group of them, trying to catalog Ghost Orchids. They're endangered, and people keep stealing them, and wrecking up their habitat. But I knew where they were. All two thousand of them. And I convinced them that I was in contact with all the remaining plants, so if any went missing after their expedition, I'd know, and come hunting for them.”

She grinned. “Like I said, Swamp Witch vibes. They even believed me!”

“So you cannot actually do that?” Loki asked. The stars had come out, forming unfamiliar shapes in the night sky. His eyes could pick out fainter lights than a humans could, and he admired the active beauty of this part of the universe while eating from one of the non-specialty ration packs.

“Well, I can, but not automatically. And not that far away. I have to be closer to a plant to really sense it, and I have to be trying really hard. Like, if I wanted to figure out where the nearest maple tree was, I would have to concentrate on that, and block out all the grass. But a maple has a different...I guess you could call it a signature? A different signature than grass does. A Ghost Orchid grows on trees, and is basically just a ball of roots when it's not blooming. Kinda like this-” Iris nodded at the roots tangled around her. “But way smaller. It looks like nothing, almost. They're very hard to spot. But they have that different signature than the tree they grow on, and I can follow that to where they are.”

“So you found all their plants, as if by magic.”

“Yeah, and they paid me pretty well for it, and I sent the money home to my parents, and then the botanists went home and blabbed. Next thing I know. S.H.I.E.L.D. is on my tail.”

“Because you were friendly to botanists?”

“Well...I might have also...sabotaged a development project.” Iris said sheepishly. “But it was right on the edge of the National Park, and I didn't let anybody get hurt! And I'm pretty sure it was dubiously legal anyway.”

The edges of Loki's mouth curled, even as his eyebrows lifted.

“What's this? You're 'shy and sensitive' I was told. Was I sold a bill of goods? Are you, in fact, a naughty little mutant?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Ugh, don't joke. Naughty little mutants end up dead.”

The amusement drained from his face.

“You would be celebrated in Asgard.” He said.

“We aren't in Asgard.” She answered. “The only thing that matters is where we are now. Those guys in there? They'd kill us both just for being born. They'd make it so that no one like us could ever be born again. When S.H.I.E.L.D showed up, in their black uniforms and started introducing themselves as 'agents', I thought that's what they had come for. The government was there to kill me.

At that point, I'd been off the grid for over a year, and I didn't know anything about the S.H.I.E.L.D./HYDRA internet explosion. But when they started talking about rebuilding as a humanitarian organization, dedicated to the protection of people-marginalized people-from, like, terrorist groups and hostile aliens, I realized they weren't there to kill me or arrest me, they were just there for me.

So I didn't make them disappear, and went with them instead. I still send money home to my parents. They don't know where I am, or what I do. They don't know the true extent of my capabilities. I'm not sure I do either. The thing about being a mutant is that a lot of these powers don't get replicated exactly, so we each have to figure ourselves out. There's no training regimen or curriculum for this.”

“So all of this is self taught?” Loki asked, impressed. “I'm not even entirely self taught.”

“You were taught? This all didn't just come from being a god or whatever?”

“No, of course not. The power is there naturally, but it needs directing. Like you, I suppose. You're born with it, but need teaching to use it. I had the best teachers the universe could offer, and was exalted and encouraged. You had only yourself, and adversity. I've seen but little of you, but this seems a great feat so far.”

“A compliment?”

“An acknowledgment. It's good to know S.H.I.E.L.D. has become more discerning in its recruitment. I hear it was more than a little disastrous for them last time.”

“Like I said, I didn't find out about that until after. Though, I guess it's not all that surprising that it happened. There's a lot that can go wrong inside an organization that big, and with that much reach. There's just too much going on; there can never be enough oversight.”

“I know.” Loki said. “I used that against them when I attempted to bring down the planet. Somehow, they still didn't notice the traitors among them.”

“You worked with HYDRA?” Iris asked defensively.

“No.” Loki said. “I used them. I didn't...make many distinctions then, in my interactions with mortals.”

“Kinda seems like you still don't.” Iris pointed out. Loki took a breath and hesitated.

“Moreso than I did then.” He said slowly. “Then, you were just tools. A means to an end. Disposable. Interchangeable. There are so many of you, so it wasn't like any of your could actually be important.”

“Right up until barely six of us beat the tar out of you and blew up your entire army?”

Loki scowled. “That is a misstatement. The plan was always to lose.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“No, I'm serious. Earth was the weakest link in the Nine Realms, and it needed to be awakened. And you were. Spectacularly. Look what it's lead to. S.H.I.E.L.D. was purged, HYDRA exposed, and your world made ready for the arrival of Asgard. You've been opened to higher interactions, as a progressing member of the Realms.”

“Uh huh. That was totally the end goal, right? Inter-species altruism? That was what filled your heart while you blew people up?”

“Norns, no!” Loki snorted. “I hated every last one of you. I took a special delight in destroying that which was weaker than myself, never think I didn't. It's just...It wasn't entirely up to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...I mean that losing was an act of defiance that sparked off the strengthening defense of Midgard, which I continue to participate in. Doing small jobs for S.H.I.E.L.D., rubbing out the likes of HYDRA and A.I.M., all of this contributes to this strengthening.”

Iris regarded him suspiciously through her framework of roots.

“You sound like you're running some sinister, behind-the-scenes shadow plan.” She accused. “You wanna explain?”

Loki smiled, a wan, false thing.

“Do you want some water?” He offered instead.

Iris rolled her eyes. “You're not gonna distract me.”

“And I am not going to elaborate further. Your curiosity will have to remain unsatisfied, or supplemented by your own imagination.”

“Hmph. Why'd you even bring it up then?”

“I? I think you'll find our conversation naturally meandered in this direction. That does not mean it must come to the conclusion you desire.”

“So this is what Abby meant when she said you were a pain in the ass to talk to.” Iris grumbled.

“I was not put here to satisfy Abby.” Loki said airily. “Who is Abby?”

“She asked you on a date.” Iris said. “You don't even remember her? Harsh.”

Loki shrugged. “She sounds frightfully dull. I may have to play nice for now, but I needn't entertain every persons sordid fantasies. Do you leap through every hoop set before you? Or do you also tell unimportant people that you aren't interested in entertaining them?”

“All right, that's fair.” Iris craned her head back to look up at the stars. “Which one is Asgard? Can you see it from here?”

“You can't.” Loki said. “The star is too far away, too small. And it doesn't matter now anyway. Home is gone, and we must rebuild from scratch. But that one, right there-do you see? Another realm orbits that one, the Frozen Realm of Jotunheim. They were our enemies once, and yours, but no more. Partly because they are under 'house arrest' as it were, trapped on their own planet. My father drove them off your planet over a thousand years ago. Your world actually warmed up without their influence, at least for a little while.”

“There were aliens here a thousand years ago?” Iris asked, incredulous.

“There have been 'aliens' here for ages.” Loki said. “Visitations and experiments, and failed colonies, and raids. Your ancestors were still getting the hang of fire, and there were 'aliens' visiting your lush and beautiful world. Making plans. Then your lot discovered agriculture and metal, and ruined a lot of those plans.”

“Seems like we're good at that.”

“Yes, yes, I was defeated by mortals. I am aware. I was the first to know.” Loki grumbled.

“Wait, does that mean the aliens really did build the pyramids?” Iris wondered.

Loki snickered. “The hubris of humanity is not universally shared. You are known for several things, and your inexplicable drive for monument building is one of them. Visitors did not build your great buildings; you did. They did come to see them though, like tourists. Some of them even took artifacts back home with them. Hopefully they weren't too historically important.”

“That's so rude.” Iris said.

“And you would never have known to take offense if I hadn't told you.”

God of Mischief indeed.

“What other realms are there? Just the nine?”

“Eight now, I suppose. But no. There are many peoples out there. The Nine Realms were just those places that were somehow related to Asgard. Allies, protectorates and...penal colonies, you might call them. But all interconnected, and all at least a little dependent on the others, at least some of the time. That has come to an end. There is a very powerful spot now empty. I fear there will be a great deal of turmoil before things even themselves back out. It would be interesting to see how that all plays out, but alas, I am trapped here for now.”

“Where would you go?” Iris asked.

“Alfheim first, I think.” Loki said. “They like me there. They are much less dour than the Dverguar, less serious than the Vanir, not so boastful and bombastic as Asgardins, not vicious as Jotunn, and nowhere near as hectic and anxious as Midgardians...humans, I mean. They like jokes and pranks, and value magic...perhaps I should have been Alfar? If only I could have chosen.”

“Yeah, I think we all feel that way sometimes. But I guess even gods don't get that choice. Hey, how do gods work, anyway? I mean, I stopped believing in any all-powerful force a long time ago. About when the only answer anyone could really give me as to why God would make someone like me was that I was put here to test faith. My own, or other people's maybe. It made me sick. What kind of 'father' puts a burden like that on a little kid?”

Loki scoffed. “The first mistake that humans make is in thinking that anything can be all-powerful, all-knowing, or infallible. It is a ridiculous fantasy notion, immature and irresponsible. That kind of thinking can only lead to two things: complete disillusionment, or harm to the self or others. I am a god, because I have a singular connection to a certain aspect of the universe, as does my brother, but neither of us are any of those things. How boring, to be all-knowing! How banal, to be all-powerful. And I have known people who seemed to think they were infallible, and the amount of misery and suffering they caused is unspeakable.

No, gods were never supposed to be all that. Greater than others, yes, but omnipotent...no, that's only for people who are overcompensating I think.”

“What's that about a special connection to the universe?” Iris asked.

“The universe is ridiculously unstable. Did you know that? I believe it was a human that posited that reality destroys and remakes itself fairly often in the scheme of things, but by the nature of it, it's impossible to ever know if that's true. Because if reality is destroyed, so are you, and so, you would never know. And if reality rebuilds itself, then that is the only reality that exists, so you would never know.”

“Oh hell, I don't like that.”

“Well just don't think about it. In any case, this instability seems to be occasionally expressed through individuals of particularly resilient and long-lived species, by connecting them to certain random forces. For my brother, it is the natural occurrence of thunder and lightning, those two things being directly connected. For me, it is an expression of sophisticated behaviors. Those forces are ours to deploy and manipulate to our will, and we affect them in the world around us, even as they effect us.”

“So you're just born with it too, huh?”

“So it seems.”

Iris settled back down into her swaddling roots to sleep, leaving Loki to stare up at the stars. The grass-cutting human had mentioned cameras. Loki had shielded them from that kind of surveillance on the way in, just in case. They must be hidden somewhere out in the trees. Could Iris detect such things? Would it be worthwhile to disable any, if suspicion was already on them? Or would that merely draw even more suspicion?

Perhaps while Iris remained incapacitated, actions that might bring more enemies out should be avoided. She did not have his durable skin, after all, nor his speed or strength. But with her unusual and largely unexplained powers, he hesitated in thinking of her as weak. More like...a specialist.

He felt her stir, just as the sun was lifted into the sky, and he fed her her morning cubes. She settled into her work trance almost immediately. Perhaps she was put off by the previous nights conversation, and didn't want more of the same. Perhaps she simply wanted to finish this mission quickly. Surely she too found it boring to lay in the same spot for days.

He watched the people come and go about their work restoring the schoolhouse. How many of them were just regular workers, and how many were enemy agents? Impossible to tell by looking, especially if even the youth were involved.

The sun had not risen particularly high when he noticed a difference. The roots that wrapped Iris' body were thinning; as he watched, more and more broke away from the tangle to bury themselves in the dirt at her sides. It was like watching worms escaping danger.

Finally, Iris pulled her hands from the soil, and pushed free of the roots.

“Alright.” She said. “Bugs are in. Now it's time for us to bug out.”

In retrospect, Loki could admit that he had been too eager to leave. He simply didn't do well with long periods of inactivity. So when he walked into the trees surrounding the meadow, and found himself face to face with a shotgun-wielding hunter, he wasn't too embarrassed. No, what really made him kick himself was when the one behind them held Iris at gunpoint. How could he have let one of these yokels get behind him?

“Who the hell are you freaks?” The one in front demanded. Loki recognized him as the youth with the loud grass cutting device who had ruined his hair.

“Gaw, this one stinks!” The other one exclaimed. “Well what do ya expect? She looks like mud, of course she smells like it.”

“We were just out looking for a...private place, if you catch my drift.” Loki said smoothly, getting ready. “Nothing to get worried about. It's just such a nice day, and we couldn't help ourselves.”

“Gross.” The one behind Iris said.

“We don't want you degenerate types around here.” The one in front of Loki said. “Now hands up, freak. You're way too close.”

“To what, pray tell?” Loki said. Almost ready.

“Don't talk about it, dumbass!” The other one hissed.

“Look, let's just kill them, to be sure.” The one in front of Loki said. “World ain't gonna miss a few freaks. And then nobody knows, and we don't get in trouble.”

Loki lifted his hand in a gesture he knew humans considered to be rude. Both men fired their guns.

Neither of them saw the illusions of Loki and Iris fade away, sprawled as they were one the forest floor, bleeding from the bullet wounds they'd inflicted upon one another.

Several yards away, Loki took his hands from over Iris' ears, and approached the HYDRA recruits. One of them was still alive. Loki carefully wrapped his hand in a cloth he manifested from seemingly nowhere, and casually suffocated him.

He then led the horrified Iris back to their rented car, and got back onto the highway as quickly as he could.

The silence stretched on for several hours, Loki watching the road, Iris gazing out the window at the scenery.

“Why didn't we sneak off as soon as you put up those illusions?” She finally asked. “We were invisible. We could have just left.”

“They had seen us.” Loki said. “They could not be allowed to go and inform their superiors. If there was suspicion that we had been snooping around the school, the entire point of the mission would be moot. Besides, they were extremely rude.”

“Don't joke.” Iris said sharply. “You killed that man in cold blood.”

“I killed him on cold practicality.” Loki corrected. “He could not be allowed to live, and let others know that he and the other one hadn't actually accidentally shot one another. Once anyone had seen us, that had to be the end for them. It is understandable that you might not like that, which is why I would not ask you to participate. But if I am sent on a mission as a protector, then that is what I will do. These were men who wanted to kill you just for being born, remember?”

“They were radicalized. They could have been deradicalized.”

“And how do you propose we were to do that?”

Iris huffed. “Damnit.”

“Sometimes we aren't afforded the choices we would prefer. But don't fret. I will take full responsibility in the report. I know the Director isn't keen on too many work-related killings.” It was part of why Loki took such delight in reporting work-related killings. Just to remind them of who he was, and what he was capable of.

Once they had reached their destination and returned the rental car, Iris called their contact agent for extraction. She wasn't exactly distant, but with other things to focus on, and other people demanding their times, the closeness of the last two days was fading fast.

Oh well, Loki thought. It had been nice while it lasted. But nothing was forever, and all affection was fleeting; he knew that well enough.

But it was a little odd to see her so preoccupied with her phone.

“Have you a Tweety account, or some such?” He asked, trying to strike up a conversation once again.

“Since that doesn't exist: no.” She answered, distracted. “No, there's just...I'm seeing someone, and he wants to meet up as soon as I get back.”

Loki frowned. For some reason, he didn't like that sound of that. “You need rest, don't you?” He suggested.

“Yeah, and it's a little last minute, I admit. But he's an agent too, and our schedules don't match up very often, so we've got to meet when we can, or not at all.”

“That sounds like a difficult arrangement.”

Iris shrugged. “I'll take what I can get. At least he doesn't seem to mind the whole mutant thing. That's kinda important when you're in my shoes.”

“You do not sound entirely enamored of this man.” Loki probed.

“Well...I'd like to get to know him better, but he's very private. Mostly, I just don't want to be alone. It's hard for people like me, you know? I can't just throw a relationship away because it's not some perfect storybook romance. Gotta be more realistic than that. But I sure hope I get a few days rest before I get sent out again.”

It sounded...practical. She had to take her opportunities where she found them. It wasn't as if Loki had never been there. It was perhaps a little sad, since it sounded like she really did want that storybook romance.

Perhaps it was none of his business. It was absolutely none of his business. He followed her anyway, curious about what kind of man made this little flower bloom.

The man in question was not impressive, in Loki's opinion. Not much more than average. Maybe that didn't matter to Iris.

“Bet you're glad to be done with all that, huh?” He asked. “Dealing with that creep couldn't be easy.”

“It wasn't really all that bad, honestly. He-”

“I don't really want to hear about him. C'mon, we have the whole evening! Let's not waste it!”

Loki decided then and there that he did not like this man. Not in small part because he wanted to know what Iris had to say about him.

She took him to what must have been her apartment, and there Loki left. There were a few things he didn't want to know after all.

#themysticgarden #loki (marvel)#loki x ofc

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rosaliestark01 · 4 years

Text

High School Musical - Part 1

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: May and Tony trick convince you and Peter to try out for the musical.

Warnings: swearing (in all likelihood), May and Tony conspiring against you and Peter

A/N: I got this idea when watching HSM around 2 am in the morning (don’t judge). Credit for GIFs go to owner.

“Come on, guys! It’ll be fun,” May encouraged. Internally, you wanted to curse Peter for forgetting his lunch but another part of you strangely wanted to agree with her. She had shown up at school to drop Pete’s lunch off and had seen posters for the musical. Now, here you and Peter were sitting in his living room being urged to sign up.

“You said that about the carnival. That wasn’t fun,” Peter spoke up.

“Really?” From your experience, the carnival was a blast. You thought that Peter had fun too. “I though you said it was fun.”

“That was until you nearly died.” It took a while to finally realize what he was talking about. It was the acrobats.

“You’re exaggerating.” You and peter both rolled your eyes at one another. “I didn’t almost die.”

Peter scoffed at you and crossed his arm. You wanted to laugh at how cute he looked, but you refrained from it. Peter actually thought that you almost died and you needed to convince him that you were perfectly fine.

“What if the dropped you or didn’t catch you?” Peter’s argument would have been valid if the acrobats weren’t professionals. You dad also though it was cool.

“They knew what they were doing, Pete!” You said. Peter was about to say something back, but May interrupts him.

“That’s enough,” She says. “Peter, Y/N was in good hands.”

“Thank you,” you say. Peter obviously didn’t like that his own aunt sided with you (even though you were right), so you placed a comforting hand on his arm calming him down.

“But I still thing you two should sign up.”

“May!” Peter whined. You guessed that he hoped that the topic was forgotten. You knew that once May got an idea in her head, there was no stopping her. If anything, May had the ability to be one of the most mischievous people you knew, especially teamed up with the right person.

“Oh, please! You two would be perfect for it.” She gushed. “You practically know the songs by heart.”

“What do you-” Peter starts, but is quickly interrupted by May again.

“Don’t act as though you two haven’t sung along to every song when you were supposed to be doing homework.” Peter tensed up before quickly looking at you.

“Did you tell her?” You couldn’t believe that Peter was accusing you of telling May that instead on doing homework, you both decided to watch High School Musical. Like you would tell anyone.

“Neither of you were very quiet about it,” May smirked. Peter sighed before sharing a look with you.

“We’ll think about it.”

After actually doing your homework this time, May dropped you off at the compound while gushing about how you and Peter would be perfect for the lead roles. Personally, you had always though yourself as more of a technical theater person than a drama kid. That technically hadn’t stopped yourself from imagining what being on stage would feel like, but it was never really your thing.

“Hey, kiddo. How was your day?” Tony Stark wasn’t your dad, but he was your legal guardian. Your parents were Shield agents who unfortunately died on a mission. You were young when it happened, so you don’t remember much about them other than stories you’d heard from the other Avengers.

He was standing in the kitchen, probably looking for a good place to put the strawberries since Pepper was allergic.

“It was fine,” you say, dropping your backpack next to the counter. “Peter and I tied for the highest score on the Physics test and I’m pretty sure that I am Mr. Dell’s Favorite student.”

Since you were an Avenger, you knew a lot of History. Steve sometimes told you stories of World War 2 and you also knew a lot about the Battle of Sokovia and the Sokovia Accords. You also knew a lot about the airport battle in Germany, considering you were there and all.

“So what’s this I’m hearing about a musical?” You almost dropped the cup of water you had gotten yourself after hearing that your dad knows about the musical.

“Who told you about the musical?” You had a fairly good idea who would’ve told him, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“It was your boyfriend’s attractive aunt!” somebody yells from the other room.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you yell back. You look at Tony waiting for an explanation even though you were sure that May had already told him all about it. “May just though that Peter and I should try out for the musical.”

‘It’s not a bad idea,” He says.

“I don’t really want to sing in front of an audience.” You knew that the chances were that you and Peter were probably going to have to sign up. If it ever came to that, you could just audition for a part that doesn’t have very many lines.

“Oh, please!” Tony scoffs. “You and Parker practically know the songs by heart.”

He laughs at the way you reacted to hearing him say that. Not only did those words sound way too familiar, but they likely confirmed what you were thinking.

“How would you know?” You ask, raising a hesitant eyebrow. You invited Peter over the other day to study and, again, you both ended up watching movies again. You both always got your homework in on time, so it’s not like it was always a big deal.

“It’s not like either of you were quiet about it,” Tony laughs.

“Yeah!”, the person in the other room yells again causing you to roll your eyes.

“If you knew that Peter planned on doing it, would you?” He looked like he already knew the answer, but you didn’t want him to be too smug about it.

“Maybe.” Obviously, you would definitely sign-up if you knew that Peter was doing it, but you knew that that would never in a million years happen, so you were good.

You kept thinking about what Tony asked you. For one thing, you felt a sense of security knowing that Peter would never sign-up for the musical, but you really wanted him to.

“If you stare at it any harder, it might explode.” You tore your gaze away from the sign up sheet on the bulletin board next to Mr. Morita’s office to see Harley Keener smiling down at you. Today was the last day to sign up and you still didn’t know what you wanted to do.

“Harley! You almost gave me a heart attack.” Again, he surprised you by picking up the pen that was tied to the sheet. “Are you signing up?”

“Yeah.” He scribbled his name on the paper before letting go of the pen. “You should too. You and Peter practically know the songs by heart.”

“Does everybody know about that?”

“In all likelihood, yes.” He nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he leans against the wall. “Besides, you’re actually really good at singing.”

“That still doesn’t make me any less nervous,” you say. If anything, even if you tried out, Gwen Stacy would most likely be better than you. She had been in most of the school’s theater productions and she could sing. Unfortunately, that led to having a vision of Peter and Gwen having the lead roles. They’d be love interests!

You shook the thought from your head, because you hated imagining Peter with anyone else but you, as said person approached you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter said nervously.The last time he was this nervous was before you were friends and he was asking for a pencil because he accidentally webbed his to the bottom of his backpack.

“Hey, Pete.” You noticed the way he eyed the sign-up pen as though it would burn his hand if he touched it. You didn’t exactly think that signing up was that bad. “You’re signing up?”

“Um... yeah?” he asks.

He gently picks up the pen and neatly prints his name on the sheet. Peter looks at you nervously as Harley smirks at your dilemma.

“Fine!” you yell, causing a few heads to turn your way ans you pick up the pen and messily write your name. It was at that time that Mrs. Kramer, the Art and Drama teacher, came over to collect the sigh up sheet.

Oh! Finally!” She gushed as she looked at all the names on the sheet. “This is perfect!”

“I guess it’s too late to turn back now,” Peter says.

“I guess so.” You both watch Mrs. Kramer walk ways with the sheet. “I probably wouldn’t have signed up if you hadn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Peter looks confused as he looks at you. “May said that you told you Mr. Stark that you were going to do it.” Harley laughs as you look at Peter, equally confused as he is.

“What?” You never told Tony that you would sign up. All you said was that you might if Peter decided to- “I think we’ve been bamboozled.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland peter parker #peter parker x reader insert #peter parker x avenger!reader #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #th peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #tony stark x platonic!reader #hsm fanfic

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iconsumeheadcanons · 4 years

Text

persona characters autism headcanons!

hi im autistic and i started my day with sun so now im !!!!!!!!! some of these headcanons are from elsewhere on tumbr, but i dont know where :((( so i am hoping someone out there knows that n that everybody knows that i love them <3

(also go check out mollypaup and i think hypeswap if you havent already! they post some good stuff autism+adhd hc too!!! i think.. oh! and thieves-in-the-palace!!!)

Joker

there was some artwork from someone on tublr..where they pointed out that he doesnt really talk outside the metaverse so--hes hyperverbal as joker and just near nonverbal as akiren

he stims ALL THE TIME. that phone thing, the pencil thing, the little tappy tap of his foot, pulling at his bangs when hes embarrassed/smug. someone get him a fidget spinner. he’ll prob learn to do tricks with it

he probably sucks at focusing in class, like i know its just the game design but hes always surprised out of his daily “star out the window at the nearby office building” when his teachers ask him questions

mona mentions when the pt is at Wilton for the first time (after they run into shido) that joker eats like shit, and that could have multiple causes at the start of the story of course, but when i first played i thought that joker was a picky eater and that the variety (and amount of food) at the buffet would be an Ordeal...

tho mona makes that comment bc joker looked pale after having a little ptsd moment from shidos voice, but i didnt know that the first time i played

maybe when joker makes a face at ryuji putting so much ginger in his gyudon? joker probably does not like pickled ginger lol

his favortive foods are all spicy, which is why the curry he makes for his friends is always ‘overly spicy’, and why kasumi makes him a curry bento and joker kept going “...?” .... “....?!”

overly reflective glasses have been a great plus for him bc now he never has to make real eye contact every again!

mona Soft. play with Ann hair. maybe Braid. nice

puns (Gorou the Goroumet)

he has so many options to be straight up rude sometimes in game. he probably no clue on his own, which is why he defaults to Not Talking. people probably mention his constant scary face, which is just him being nonexpressive, squinting at all the fucking bright lights, and Tired

executive function who? we do everything last minute folks

high pain tolerance, which is why he was the kid that was always climbing trees in elementary school to get basketballs unstuck from the branches

his sixth sense lets him see treasure and possible places to climb/crawl bc 1. Shiny? Steal it. Steal it Now. and 2. Could i fit in that? Time to Find Out

probalby a bit of a klepto too oops. he’ll return it tho!! but he has to do it dramatically or he’ll die

cant sit properly to save his life

smells and touch are Great, they can keep him grounded when his brain goes off to police or dead rivals or guilt or

if a friend hung out with him and gave him total reigns of the agenda, he would choose to nap on the floor while his friend does something off to the side quietly

hyperfocuses on handy tasks (i.e. lockpicks, coffee brewing, cleaning, his part time jobs) and some things like movies and books. everything else is a tossup

his (normal) navigation app is his most used app bc he still doesnt know where hes going, even though he only goes to the same few places in the city

hates being sweaty, literally cannot stand it. probably double exhausted during the summer

but Needs Compression so hes often Struggling

Futaba

paraphrase from p5d “i have no motor skills so i cant play rhythm games :(” need i say more? (i will regardless)

echolalia all the time, from anime, memes, the PT

those headphones she wears all the time? noise cancelling ear protectors babey

only talks about her interests, “normal” talking is Not Easy, but she is still communicative w others despite her worries. shes not “hard to understand” at all but she feels the anxiety nonetheless

only talks informally, cannot talk ‘politely’ with out imitating someone around her

shes had meltdowns and anxiety attacks in game :( i relate so hard

Technology. thats it

def had an egypt phase that pops up every few months. probably came from yu-gi-oh

has Immune to Bright Lights buff. joker is very jealous

“Time to make like a tree and leave!” and 30 other iterations

video game metaphors are the only ones that makes sense to her

probably relates hard to robot characters in anime for their general androgyny and confusion about human emotions and connections

probably gets told that shes “too smart to be on the spectrum” by teachers >:( she fails their classes on purpose

wakaba’s autistic too that just how it is

the Connection that she establishes with Joker is so Warm. my life goals include adopting an older brother like futaba has lsdkfjslkfj

also eater of 5 foods only, i mean, she brings cup ramen to the beach. i just really admire her...

hides in small spaces for comfort

doesnt she have like uhhhhh hyperthymesia or something like that?

Yusuke

art

his entire social link is learning how humans work, which i relate

talks seriously all the time

“sarcasm? who is that? are you saying I was sarcastic?...how?”

cant remember to take care of his body, and madarame did not help with that either

lot of uncomfortable staring, hes overdoing the eye contact thingy

infodumps all the time, doesnt know hes doing it

needs a lot of support even if he doesnt think he deserves it. no one ever complains about helping him out tho

visual stims my friends

he didnt know that you could look up pictures on the internet but he does know you can stream live videos of waterfalls and fluffy animales!!

I am certainly in the mood

for something salty today.

he and joker are scared of math. numbers do not interact

Yusuke, futaba, and akiren are a trio and i know this bc their first day of non-thievery interacts is Akiren clearing Futabas room w/o permission, futaba hyperfocusing on destroying medjed, and yusuke rearranging futabas figurines so they are more visually appealing

morgana is a support friend for all of them bc igor knows they need it

Souji/Yu

yes, he mostly wears gray semi formal clothes bc parents tell him to, no, he will not changes this

Schedule or Death

“sorry, could you repeat that?” “huh? oh yeah, i was saying that--” “yeah that’d be cool.”

cats, fishing, he just likes to be quiet. you can literally spend a day at the beach just to think if you want, and that is what yu want

has a lot of scripts for things (of which he shares with nanako!) but if he runs out he just stops talking..

inaba is a godsend bc its so fucking quiet and warm

he Yearns to hold his friends hands, but he shies away from a lot of touch (excepting yosuke, teddie, and nanako)

Cooking and Cleaning makes the world better. he and joker vibe together with this

unlike akiren, he strong arms any executive dysfunction into Be Productive or Else. his punishment is feeling the pure anxiety of having to make up for ‘lost time’. (another symptom of his workaholic parents)

writes everything down, notes are very neat, has pages dedicated for bad doodles when hes not feeling his usual Super Classroom Focus

Cannot handle secondhand embarrassment (most often caused by yosuke) and will quietly slip away to random cats or origami folding

hungry, crunch crunch folks. probably needs chewelry bc he used to chew on his shirt collars when he was younger.

cleans up after everyone in the food court, constantly worries about them accidently hurting themselves. likely spends half of group conversations watching peoples hands

he canonically eats expired food, nanako plz help your brother

really clumsy, but people only notice after they decide that he is a cool person

video games are too chaotic for him

exhausted every night from the pure amount of masking he does, if a friend spends the night (or is like yosuke) they will know his more comfortable weirdo self (tho everyone knows hes a weirdo eventually)

hyperempathetic, sometimes just understands animals and children better than peeople his age or older

Yukiko

her jokes

she and souji get in ‘trouble’ together, she and joker commit crimes together

she and chie have to coordinate outfits, its important

actually understands metaphors, but does not understand people

like me, had no clue that creepy kid was flirting with her

she is very angry when she has meltdowns that might involve slamming doors and shouting. her parents call these ‘tantrums’ and ‘unfitting for a polite daughter’ but really thats because her meltdowns tend to be caused by arguments w her family after a long day of school and TV world traipsing

the metronome meme, except hers goes between Loudest Person in the Room to Quietest Pin Drop in the Planet. she is completely unaware of this

her atmosphere brightens when chie appears. that is not only the lesbian energy within her, but also because chie is like her Favorite Person

Cannot wear Pants. No (tho she wants to try it! but she puts them on and her soul instantly squashes)

happy flappy lesbian! watch out!

Naoto

the pouty face. all the time lskdfjlasdkf

hes really snappy sometimes and i love that for him. he and akechi should fight just to see what would happen (please read Bang Bang Shoot Shoot on AO3)

“do not touch me or my hat, thank you”

no one has ever seen him shutdown and no one ever will (except for his grandpa)(and kanji)(and rise)

probably likes certain food textures and will stand for nothing less, probably feels embarrassed about his preferences with friends

constantly jumps between ‘everybody hates me so i should act like them so they dont hate me’ to ‘i refuse to be anything but very comfortable as myself, and i dont care that im making you upset sir’

he and souji are the king and queen of subtle stims, but for unhappy reasons :(

does not make jokes. cannot joke around. understand? yes, do? no.

loose clothes are the only good clothes, but all tags and obtrusive seams will be obliterated by kanji tatsumi

not very empathetic so he probably comes off as an asshole to strangers (like when he throws away his classmates confession letters without reading them) but he tries so hard to sound comforting when his buds are struggling.

his understanding of others emotions/reactions come from his learning as a detective, which seems cold+clinical to others, especially compared to souji, whos completely unexpressive but very introverted people person

Hamuko/Minako/Kotone

big personality!! very people-oriented!! koromaru and her are buddies!! when shes having a real bad time, shes very quiet and expressions turn off

interrupts herself in the middle of conversations all the time. no one knows where shes coming from. her brains is thousands of km ahead of her body

bouncey legs, swingin arms, twirlly skirt, little somersaults! when will she stop? never!

very obvious music stims with her hands and arms! people are like “oh there she goes! happy as usual!” shes listening to minatos heavy metal playlist

switches from exhausted to excited within milliseconds. no one can predict, not even her

SEES has to ask her for context all the time cuz she’ll just continue shit from 2 weeks ago without warning

professionals will assume shes very childish bc of how chipper she is, but she is beyond mature for her age and only feels comfortable enough to have serious conversations if a person has proved themself able to handle it

collects every little thing. her room is a mess and she has to get rid of most of it every time she moves :(

hates cleaning! smells bad, feels bad hhhhhgggg

dont let mitsuru-senpai see her bedroom

gets lost in the middle of conversations with others bc shes thinking about a story connected to one(1) word that was said earlier

no sense of time and place, she just sees her friends and goes “ah, this is the right place, then” but junpei and akihiko are also lost so now theyre all screwed

Minato/Makoto/Sakuya

no talkies, no walkies

his story in the movies is him literally learning how to function around people he cares for

doesnt get jokes, expressions, body language, empathy, subtlety, metaphors, physical contact, or eye contact. aigis is probably the only person he truly understands right away

he is still nice to people because he doesnt see a reason not to be, but also he has very limited energy so only his senpai and old people get his most polite-kindnesses

cannot describe feelings for the life of him. the team wont know hes injured or sick until hes passed out

everything is too loud, time to drown it out with my loud ass music

rocking and chewing stims, ryoji is the first person to point him out for these subtle stims (not accusingly of course, just general pure curiosity and love for the uniqueness of humanity)

likes to cover his face with whatever is available, lives like a bat in a dark dry cave

will wear anything that has pockets and his blue/gray/black palette

sleepy at all times bc he never has much energy

when he was younger he probably needed a lot of support, especially after his parents died, because he wouldnt communicate like a neurotypical and would shutdown for hours in the middle of school without warning. probably missed a lot of lessons and field trips out of pure overstimulation

eating at all times. no preference, just whatevers closest

his meltdowns probalby include humming whining noises and curling up in a ball, which makes people want to touch him, but that is the LAST thing he wants. put a blanket on him! play some music! do not talk and do not expect him to speak

aigis is the only person who can touch him normally bc her hands are cold and he likes cold

never nude, feels mmmmmmmmm without clothes and probalby wears a full robe in the hotsprings

will not do things that take more than one step w/o someone else walking him thru it, which Same

#my writing #p3 #p4 #p5 #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #ren #futaba #souji #hamuko #minato #vibes straight thru the sun #i sincerely hope the read more works #im so srry for grammar problems #i literally cant read rn

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