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thismaydestroyme · 3 years

Text

Little Did I know Pt. 2

summary: in this short story, harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. i included some song lyrics from different amazing artists, and i pretended that harry and y/n wrote it.

author’s note: i wrote the beginning of this two months ago me being lazy i picked up where i left off because i’m too lazy to read through this. so if there’s any major fuck ups then…. i did warn you that i’m incompetent

word count: 3165

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out, and little did you know Harry was front and center watching your trainwreck of a performance.

Harry did a whole french inhale without breaking eye contact with you. “I really wanna dance tonight with you.” Y/N hears Brittany playing in the background which you pause the music, to see what Harry would say about your little ‘performance.’

“Really? A slave? don’t you think it’s pretty dramatic don’t ya think?” Harry says, raising one of his eyebrows. You know he’s just playing around, but you coudn’t help feeling embarrassed how he fucking witnessed… that. You don't want Harry to know that you’re embarrassed, so you did the next best thing.

“That fucking snake was huge. Did you know she was holding an Albino Burmese Python? I bet MTV wasn’t expecting that. Do you think MTV got filthy rich from that performance? Everyone tuned in for that performance and till this day it’s still the most talked about.” You ramble and spew out random information you bet Harry couldn’t care two shit about.” Harry has a smirk on his face, you bet he was enjoying you looking like a damn idiot.

You start profusely apologizing until Harry interrupts you, “Do you want to come over?” He says all nonchalantly and walks away without you even agreeing. You’re all stunned and weren't able to even say one single word or even move your two feet. Harry doesn’t need to turn around to see you not moving, “C’mon weirdo, don’t act all shy with me now.” He threw back.

“Fuck.” You whisper, but your feet finally start to move and your feet are heading straight to Harry.

Harry turned his head and started to smirk, but he kept walking which had you feeling some nerves building up in your stomach. You’re not scared per se, just you’re going to Harry Styles house. This is normal. This is fine. This is just a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Cool.

When you finally get to his entrance Harry is already inside and he disappears somewhere because you don’t see him. You hesitantly walk inside and shut the door behind you. When you turn around you couldn’t help, but notice the disarray this house is covered in. Your mouth gape opened, but you immediately brought your hands to cover up how shocked you are. You couldn’t help but gawk at Harry’s place. There’s a big pink couch in the center of the room which is covered in boxes and clothes. There’s a TV on the floor which doesn’t seem to be plugged in because you don’t see it even plugged in. You try not to be too judgy because he did just move in, so what do you expect? Harry having his life all sorted out in a span of a couple of weeks?

You almost missed the nice white fluffy carpet that’s underneath the couch. Even though Harry’s place is a disaster, you can envision what Harry is planning on doing when he has his stuff all situated. In the back of your mind you hope he might even invite you back if he does a ‘welcoming party.’

Before you could even investigate more Harry walks back in with two bottles of water in his hand. He’s already drinking out of one of them, so he handed the one that hasn’t been opened to you. You reach your hands over to grab it.

“This isn’t safe for the environment.” You states while unscrewing the cap.

“Well.. you belting out to Britney is an endangerment to our society, so I guess we both got the short end of the sticks.”

You immediately start drinking your water because you didn’t have your next rebuttal. You start scanning the room and hoping it’ll have your heartbeat settle down because you can feel it through your chest. Harry moves from his spot and starts taking boxes off the couch and to make some room for the both of you. He had to take down three boxes, so you could both sit comfortably.

Harry walks over to you, but you freeze. Harry was pleased knowing he had you all flustered. It was one of Harry’s turn ons. Harry sits and brings his arms draping on the back of the couch which would have you being in his arm if you decide to sit right there. A couple of seconds of you contemplating you walk towards Harry and hesitantly sit down.

“I’m not going to bite.” he whispers in your left ear. Feeling his breath in your ear made you slightly clench your thighs together, hoping Harry doesn’t notice. But knowing your track record he probably did notice.

You try to come up with a conversation starter that hopefully doesn't hold all the spotlight on you. You look down at her close water bottle and scrambling for something in her head.

“Now you’re shy. The last time I checked up you were coming for my head after that mishap with your dog earlier.”

“You deserved it. You were attacking Cosmo, so yeah. I was in fact coming for your ass.” You glance your eyes to Harry. You’re overly protected over Cosmo. Cosmo is your life.

Harry gave you a smirk. He couldn’t help but to admire your bluntness. He barely comes across people who lit a fire inside of him. They always try to please him because he is a celebrity, and people just want to please him- which he doesn’t mind, but he does wish they sometime bites back. Having you in his presence he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, little did he know, he wants to get to know you more.

“What do you do, Y/N besides piercing people’s eardrums and being a dog mom.”

“Ummm.. that’s a loaded fucking question. But you being Harry fuckin’ Styles I guess I have to come up with something to make myself more interesting and less… chaotic. Well I’m a 21 years old who doesn’t have anything to offer to this world. I live my life accepting I’ll probably be working at Newbury Comics. And on top of that I love music, but I’ll be considered unqualified because I have no talents, and all I could do is muster up some mediocre lyrics that I have stored in my notes app.”

Harry didn’t break any eye contact when you were summarizing your sad life. That created a pit in your stomach because you never experienced anything that could ever compare to Harry’s tense gaze.

Harry never encountered anyone in the span of meeting them baring their skin to him. He couldn’t help, but feel some sort of pride knowing he created a space for Y/N to be able to let your hair down and express herself in full detail. He feels more drawn to you because he knows what you’re feeling. The unknown is a scary thing to feel, but you’re doing that with grace without you even realizing it. Just accepting reality is the biggest thing to acknowledge, and you’re doing just that.

“What do you have on your notes? Could you even help me write my next album.” Harry shrug glances his eyes away from you.

You feel a surge of worries entering her body. You don't know what’s going on, and you don't like it. “What?! You barely know me. My so-called ‘lyrics’ could be shitty and cliche. What are you getting out of this? My humiliation?” You don't like being taken as a joke, but that’s all you could come up with this peculiar interaction. Harry sees a naive little girl.

“You’re pretty,” Harry says. And that’s all he said. He got up and walked out the room. You're left on the couch alone, and not understanding what he just said. Just a few minutes ago he asked for your help, and now just a few seconds ago he said you’re pretty. What kind of fuckery is this?!

You immediately got up and walked to whatever room you could find Harry in. It wasn’t that hard because Harry is in the kitchen.

“Harry! I need you to explain. Talk to me, please.” You say while running her hands down your face. You thanked yourself for not wearing any makeup.

“Uh, you beg. I like that Y/N,” Harry chuckles and closes his fridge door.

“Well…. I do find you attractive and I see a potential in you. I might be wrong or I might be right. There’s nothing wrong with finding out and seeing what you have.” Harry says. Harry isn’t afraid to look people in the eyes, but you sure do. You’re debating if you should take this risk. Harry did say there’s nothing wrong with finding it out.

“Fine. I will take that jump with you.” You say unsurely, but you have some faith in him and a little bit in yourself.

“Good. Now can you stop being tense and enjoy yourself. You’re in fact talking to the one and only Harry Styles.”

“Shut up, doofus.”

One month Later

After Harry made the deal with you a month ago, you guys have been surprisingly working together quite nicely. You guys wrote one complete song, and that song is now called, “Dirty Little Secret.” You can’t wait to hear Harry sing that song with his band because you’re pretty sure it will fit the band theme for his upcoming album. Harry doesn’t want to limit himself, but he does have an idea to make his third album mostly rock.

Harry didn’t expect you to be a fuckin’ genious. Watching you in the corner jotting down lines in your beat up notebook with a pen in your hand made you start feeling someway. You always appreciate the art seeing people enjoy what they do, but Y/N is truly gifted because she has no experience with producing music. One long night two weeks ago you guys were sleep deprived because there was a week where you guys would stay up all night to write and you would stop when you saw the sunrise. Y/N found her love in music because of her father. He was a huge factor that made her who she is today. There was substance in her when she would talk about the accent in a song, how she would bounce that off with the bar while you would play the instruments. Y/N is truly a force to be reckoned with and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be like to have her on tour with you.

Y/N never felt more alive after her father passed. It’s like Harry woken something inside of her. You never thought you would experiment with music with Harry Styles, the artist for this generation. You’re not going to lie that you would watched all of his interviews and he would talk about when he write songs he has no boundaries, and it’s crazy he upheld that ideology because Harry made sure you know that there’s no right or wrong way, the only way is to play around and see how it goes.

“I’m going to get some water. Do you want some?” You ask Harry dropping your notebook on the coffee table that’s covered in rolled up papers and a lot of take out boxes.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He says. You nod at him, and you got up to grab two cups of ice water for you both.

Your notebook page flipped to a new page and Harry couldn’t help but notice to see “Bubblegum Bitch” written in all caps. Harry got intrigued, so he happily kicked the table so the book could fall, so his excuse could be, “Y/N it fell.”

Harry kicked the coffee table with his big ass feet and the notebook happily splat on the floor. Harry reached for it and started flipping pages to see that title again, and it took him a couple of tries to find it.

“Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for”

Harry couldn’t help but not try to read all the lyrics. He wants to digest it all, but he knew Y/N could walk in any second. He couldn’t help but make a small gasp when he skimmed to the part of the song that had him falling on his knees

“I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch.”

“Harry, what are you doing?” Y/N says timidly. On the outside Y/N is calm and cool and collective, but on the inside you’re shaking and screaming. Your songs are attended only to you, not for other eyes to see. You’re still not confident with your writing abilities when it comes to songs for yourself, but knowing your idol probably read more than one line of your song is having you want the ground to swallow you up.

“I’m not going to tiptoe around you and pretend Y/N. Bubblegum Bitch is amazing, fuck maybe fucking brillant Y/N. Shit.” Harry says he looks at you but goes back down to your notebook flipping pages after pages.

You’re stuck where you’re standing. Feeling the condensation of two cups of water you’re currently holding is the only concept you’re able to maintain.

Did Harry say that he likes your songs? Did he say brilliant? You’re not able to speak, all you’re able to do is walk up to the coffee table, drop the cups down and grab your notebook from Harry's grabby hands and collect your belongings. This is too much. You feel too much. You simply can’t right now.

Harry sees you picking up your stuff and shoving your notebook and pens in your purse you bring every time you visit him. Harry couldn’t help, but feel bad that he could possibly make you feel uncomfortable.

Harry stands up and starts walking up to where you are putting the last thing in your bag, “Y/N I’m sorry if me going through your stuff made you angry, but I couldn't help it Y/N. What I read was amazing, you’re amazing.” Harry hurrys out his words because he felt if he didn’t say it fast enough you would vanish.

You’re trying to hold back your tears because it’s getting too much for you. The last time somebody read your stuff was your father, and right now you feel like you’re betraying the intimate moments you had with him. He was the one you would share your songs first with him. Now that he’s gone, you couldn’t put yourself out there to have someone else read it. You turn back around and you try to give a smile to Harry.

“It’s okay, I- I just have to go. I’m sorry. We can talk later.” You push past Harry to make it to the front door, but you feel someone hand on your wrist so you immediately stop.

“Y/N, I can’t have you leave, when I know that you’re not okay. Can you please talk to me? Please?” There’s a hint of sadness in Harry. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him without having the answer he’s yearning for.

You turn around and there’s Harry. His green eyes are pleading with yours, and you couldn’t help, but do what Harry is asking you to do.

“Okay, I don’t want pity. Okay? Tell me you understand.” You ask Harry because the last thing you want from him is sympathy.

“I promise Y/N. Would you mind if we sit down?” You nod your head and he walks you back with his hand in your hand. You both couldn’t help but feel some sort of palse running inside you both while holding each other's hands. It’s something both of you guys can’t simply forget.

You got to the couch and you both sat down, no longer holding hands. You adjust yourself so you can face him. “Okay. My father died a couple of years ago and he was the only one I let read my stuff first. After he passed I never showed anyone my stuff because it would feel like I’m replacing him. I’m not mad that you read my stuff- I was just surprised, and I couldn’t help it but feel sadness creeping over me. Once again, I’m not angry at you, I’m just adjusting to a new milestone I just crossed without me not realizing it.” You say, and you’re hoping Harry doesn’t say, “Oh I’m sorry” because you’re sorry to.

“Well, I’m not sorry for your loss,” Harry says and you couldn’t help, but smile and laugh. “but I’m not sorry that I read it. You have something Y/N and I know you told me you haven’t had any experience in music industry, but fuck that. You have passion and I feel that every time we write something together in the past month, I don’t think I'll be able to forget about you when the summer is over.” Harry says. There was so much sincerity in what he just said.

You thought it was all one sided because you felt so much being with Harry. You felt you were finally seeing a rainbow you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Harry brings so much out of you that you. Harry was always there when you were scared to take the first step. Him being there with you made it less scary because he was there every step of the way.

Harry didn’t expect he would’ve met someone this summer who would make such an impact on him. Harry thought he would do a lot of hooks up, go to parties and write for the entirety of the summer. But the universe had something planned for him. He met Y/N. He didn’t want to tell Y/N he that he found his first and only love, but he didn’t want to scare her. She could probably feel the same way or she only saw him as a friend but neither of them were ready for that big leap of faith. Even Y/N knew Harry is someone she couldn’t live without because he brings something out of you that you never felt in your entire life and that was courage and faith.

Y/N met her faith. Only time could tell if faith would lead Harry and Y/N the soulmate they both were looking for.

“Harry, I don’t think I could possibly forget about you.” Y/N whisper because you felt if you used your normal voice the bubble you guys created would shatter within seconds.

Faith is a silly thing because faith could have you longing for something that’s impossible to grasp or faith could have you leaving you vulnerable, but that vulnerability could unlock something you never dreamt was even possible.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #thismaydestroyme #thismaydestroyme harry styles #harry blurb #harry styles fic rec

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moon-lixie · 3 years

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about a letter left to be found and a boy who disappeared into thin air.

word count: 2.046k

genre: slight angst

song: 말할 수 없는 비밀 (Secret Secret) - Stray Kids

I don't think any of you would be able to understand, not even if I sit down and speak all of my truths. Still, I think I owe an explanation.

With trembling hands he gathered his things, the notebooks filled with dreams spilling from the edges of every page, his favourite hoodies, the pair of bright red headphones he had since the beginning of high school.

From the open window a cold breeze came in and ruffled the slightly damp hair of the boy, paying special attention to the ends that were still clamped together due to the dampness.

He wasn't exactly in a hurry, but he still felt nervous and anxious, because even if it was almost impossible, at the back of his mind he was haunted by the idea of someone coming in and stopping him.

Moving quickly he reached down for the towel hanging around his shoulders and ruffled his hair a couple of times more until he felt satisfied.

First of all, I have no idea where I am going but know that I'm fine.

A loud sigh caressed his lips as it escaped, filling the room that he had always called his own, his little world nobody could disrupt because in between the forgotten comics and the piles of clothes sprawled here and there he had felt more at home than he has ever felt anywhere else.

Throwing the towel to the basket of dirty laundry at the end of the hallway, he finally finished everything he had to do, simply being left with staring at himself in the mirror and fixing the wild strands of hair that had been upset by the freshly washed hoodie hugging his torso.

He could barely muster a smile at his reflection, not because he was sad, but because it all felt surreal in a sense that left him wondering if it was still the middle of the night many years ago and the last years had been nothing but the hopeful dreams of his younger self.

Maybe it's a bit selfish of me to simply leave without a warning, but please understand that I want much more than this place could ever offer me.

He closed the front door of his house, locking it with the pair of keys his mother had given him once he turned twelve; they were still held together by the Pororo keychain he had bought one day after school with such an overwhelming excitement that made the memory pull at the corners of his lips.

It felt bizarre to walk away from the entrance of his home knowing that he was never really going to come back, that this was the last time.

Just like the very first time he had arrived there along with a moving truck packed with boxes and furniture, he felt breath leave his lungs at the sight of the white façade. It made him stop for a second and contemplate in utter silence.

Goosebumps coated the length of his arms once he turned around and kept moving forward at a steady pace, leaving his old bike behind as well.

Know that the decision to leave wasn't made in a haste, I've been thinking about it for long and now just seemed like the perfect time.

Mr. Kim lazily waved in his direction, gentle smile and downturned eyes with the familiar brown that reminded Jisung of his grandfather; maybe that's where he would go next, to visit his grandfather.

Without much thought he returned the sweet and familiar greeting, feeling a bit nostalgic when he thought back to all the summers that he had spent working with the man in his garden.

Back then a young Jisung had been happy to make a few bucks while getting to stay out all day in the yard playing with bugs and with the sun kissing the skin of his chubby cheeks and legs that weren't covered by his favourite pair of green shorts.

He couldn't help but wonder where had all that time run to because despite being the one who lived through it, he could barely make sense or when had he ended up where he was.

Time moved too fast and without a warning, it left everyone wondering.

It isn't easy to leave my whole life behind but it feels right, the mere idea makes me feel lighter because who knows who I'll get to be when I get to the end of my journey.

Perhaps I'll be braver, a little bit smarter, more mature, maybe even a couple of centimetres taller.

He could walk the streets with his eyes closed and still know where every bump and crack was in the sidewalk, he could still point where his old school was, where the closest convenience store stepped in his way and as usual tempted him to buy a snack even on those days were his pockets were empty and his tummy full.

From there he knew his way to everywhere else in town, he even knew how long it would take him to get to said places on foot or with his trusty bike.

It all felt too easy and familiar, too comfortable, and those things weren't bad at all but Jisung thought he had had enough of them. He craved discovering himself inside the walls of another place so foreign that every single one of his truths were only known by himself.

Was it silly? That he thought a change of scenery would make him a new person, one much more alike to who he truly was.

Sometimes talking to someone isn't enough, because you don't think they'll understand, you know they won't. That's why I never said anything about the deepest desires looming in my heart or the biggest fears that tied me down for as long as I can remember.

All the interrogations running leaps around his mind made him walk faster, filling him with the same dreadful excitement he felt every first day of school, one that mixed with nervousness and fear.

He wasn't sure if starting fresh would let him be someone whose fears didn't weigh upon his heart so harshly, he wasn't sure if he would get to be the person he had always wished he could be but he could only hope.

Hope had been what drove him this far and today he was giving it full control of where his feet moved to, control over how his next day would look like or where he would wake up the next day.

Never in his life had he felt more ready to wander around by himself.

But I guess, since I'm going, it's only fair that I try to sit down and talk to someone, hoping that they will understand even if my words are scarce and there will be nobody to talk back to at the end of this letter.

On the horizon the sun rushed to slumber, leaving a comforting lilac pooling around the clouds and making them stand out even more.

Night hovered over his shoulders making him breathe with much more ease because if there was something that portrayed hope and tomorrow with an uncanny resemblance and lack of effort, it was the night sky with its endless stars and its shining moon.

In his childhood days he had discovered that there was no better cure for uncertainty and a nostalgic heart than staring up at the night sky; there was something about it that made him feel like time stopped for an instance, that time wasn't quite as unforgiving while the veil of darkness covered everything.

If he could go anywhere he wanted —which he was already doing— he would wish to go to the sky, not the endless and uncertain space, but the idea of the sky that humans have in their ignorance, a canvas that goes no further than our eyes can see.

Ever since I can remember I've felt like there was a place for me somewhere out there, a place I always called home without knowing what it really was.

It wasn't like I didn't feel at home here, there was just a feeling in my chest that told me out there I could feel completely free in the way I've always craved.

For him it had always felt unfair, how everyone got to live and walk around without the things that kept him back. Of course when he grew older he understood that everyone had their own problems but sometimes that was easy to ignore when one's own darkness loomed around their heart.

He had spent many years wishing, praying to whoever was listening, that he could just be himself without the voices in his head and the uncertainties that made every single one of his steps be cautious.

Nobody seemed to have listened as years went by and things got harder, still, he never gave up and even though he could never really say that there was nothing else bothering him he could at least say that he had everything under control.

If time is unforgiving it also is healing, and for him it had healed many wounds that couldn't be seen.

Unknowingly I spent a lot of time wanting to go to that place, craving to find where it was.

Some years ago I understood that it perhaps wasn't a place but a version of myself that could bring such soothing feelings. That's where I'm going to, that's why I have no destination.

He wanted to believe that nothing had been planned, that his savings carefully stuffed at the bottom of his backpack had just been him being responsible about his money and having enough for the impulsiveness that one day had won over reason and had driven him to this adventure.

He wanted to pretend but it was stupid to do now, there was nobody around to judge him or question his motives, so there was no use in not being honest with himself.

Thinking back to all those evenings spent running around the small restaurant in which he had found a job, he could see that perhaps this plan had been many years in the making.

Unconsciously he had always been hoping for a moment like this, a moment of unadulterated freedom.

Hopefully I do get there, hopefully I get to be happy and everyone I left behind does too.

The journey to happiness, to authenticity, to being unapologetically himself, had taken him to the airport, another thing that wasn't as spontaneous as he had tried to make it seem.

Passport in hand and trembling self, the whiteness of the place and the various people walking back and forth made him realise that this was really going on, he was really leaving.

For the first time in his life overthinking had no place in his plans.

I wish to be who I am meant to and disappearing was perhaps the thing I had always been destined to do. A boy who disappeared into thin air, that's who I am, a boy with secrets that weigh down on my heart and that I'm unwilling to carry with me on this journey.

Approaching the desk he was met with a young woman, in her mid twenties or early thirties, sweet but practised smile covering her lips as she recited the words that he must've learned a long time ago when she first started working there.

"I want a ticket for the next flight available," Jisung said, offering a reassuring smile after the confused look the woman gave him.

He looked around as the sounds of typing filled his ears and before he had time to start regretting something the ticket had been placed on his palm and his savings were short by a considerable amount.

I'm afraid that wasn't much of an explanation but it was my truth.

Good luck and see you whenever we're meant to cross paths.

The last thing he saw before falling asleep were the clouds from above and the sky now completely dark like the many nights he had wondered where he belonged.

Now he had an answer, he belonged wherever he felt free and right then in that comfortable plane seat he felt the freest he had ever been.

#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz angst #skz comfort #skz han #skz jisung #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #han angst

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sankyeom · 3 years

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picture perfect | k.m

pairings: kevin moon x reader genre: art student au, strangers to lovers, art!student kevin, actor!reader, another secret admirer situation (yes i know we already did that in my sangyeon fit but it’s cute so idc) summary: in which you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of you, and go on a mission to find the owner word count: 8.5k (these just get longer and longer wow) series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

Your psychology professor always spoke a mile a minute, and it made taking notes unnecessarily difficult. Usually when she lectured, your wrist cramped from writing so fast, and your classmates couldn’t wait to get out of the room. On one particular autumn afternoon, you stared into nothingness as your professor gave a lecture on Milgram’s experiments, running lines in your head instead of taking notes like you usually did.

When you were cast as one of the lead roles (who didn’t even have that many lines to begin with) in your University’s winter play of An Ideal Husband, you were ecstatic to be given a new challenge. You had never been involved in acting or theatre before University, and you always felt like you were behind your peers. Your excitement soon morphed into something less productive: fear.

You were so afraid to mess up and disappoint your peers that you frequently did poorly in rehearsals and were the source of your cast’s frustrations. Perhaps it was your lack of experience, or perhaps it was because you didn’t really have any faith in yourself. Either way, it was all you could think about.

As your classmates started packing up to leave, you realised that the lecture was over and that you had just been in your own head for over an hour without learning anything from your class. Scrambling to pack up, you put away your notebooks and pencils as your phone chimed. Checking the text, you saw a message from your friend Sunwoo asking if you wanted to get lunch with him.

Getting to your feet, you texted Sunwoo that you were down for lunch as you exited the now empty lecture hall. As you left, you felt your shoe come in contact with a solid object in the doorway; a notebook that somebody must have dropped on the way out. Knowing that you would want your notes back if someone found them – especially in this class, where your professor spoke way too fast – you opened the notebook to see who it belonged to.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t a notebook, it was a sketchbook. With a drawing of you on the first page.

At first, you scolded yourself for assuming that the person in the drawing was you. It was presumptuous of you, wasn’t it? But the texture, colour, and length of the person’s hair perfectly matched yours. The person in the picture had your eyes, skin, clothes, and smile.

Perhaps it wasn’t so arrogant of you to presume that you were being depicted in the drawing.

“That’s a lovely drawing,” Professor Shin, who was on her way out, complimented. “You’re an excellent artist.”

You glanced up from the page, feeling a little dizzy. “It’s not mine,” you admitted, head spinning at the idea of somebody drawing you. Plain, simple, me? You couldn’t believe it. “I just found it here on the floor.”

“Looks like somebody admires you,” your Professor mused, smiling before bidding you farewell, leaving you standing in an empty lecture hall, clutching the sketchbook in your hands.

You tried to find a name on the other side of the cover, but there was no number or form of identification anywhere. The only thing that alluded to an identity was the small signature at the bottom right corner of the drawing.

Moon scribbles.

The first time Kevin saw you, he was seated three rows behind you in one of his Cultural Anthropology classes last semester. You were jotting notes as quickly as possible, brows furrowed together in concentration as you gripped your pen hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

Kevin didn’t take any notes that day.

All the could do was watch you, appreciating the way your expressions changed as you understood the content, and the hesitance on your face when you volunteered an answer during class.

He didn’t mean to start drawing you. You had simply inspired him to pick up his pencil and start sketching, the soft strokes of the lead slowly but surely forming shapes that resembled your eyes, nose, lips…

Kevin didn’t think that you’d be all he could draw from that moment onwards. Even during his art classes; if the assignment was to study the scenery surrounding the University and draw a landscape, Kevin couldn’t get the image out of your face out of his head. Whether he used paint, charcoal, ink, or lead, it was your profile that emerged from his efforts.

Today was no different; Kevin was supposed to be studying the Psychology slides from class that day – which he hadn’t taken notes on because he was too busy sketching you – and yet he only had the urge to add the finishing touches to his drawing instead of facilitating his studying. Dragging his messenger bag over to his desk, Kevin rifled through it in search of his sketchbook. He had filled many, many pages with your face at that point, and it had become a habit for him to bring it everywhere with him in case he had the urge to draw.

Kevin furrowed his brows when he couldn’t find it. His heart pounded suddenly, the idea of him having lost his sketchbook in a place you might find it seeming terrifying and disastrous. After a final sweep of his bag – which included emptying it inside-out to make sure he didn’t miss anything – Kevin could only hope and pray that he’d find it before you did.

“You found what?” Sunwoo asked through a mouthful of noodles, his eyes comically large and rounded in surprise.

“A sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you replied in a monotone voice, knowing fully well that Sunwoo had heard and understood you the first time. This was the fourth time you had explained the situation, and it was starting to get a little old.

Eric narrowed his eyes, judging Sunwoo’s eating habits, before turning to face you. “Are the drawings cute?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t say they’re cute,” you said absentmindedly, thinking back to the drawings you saw. After succumbing to your own curiosity, you had looked through the notebook to see what other drawings there were. You knew this was an invasion of privacy but you couldn’t help yourself. Surely enough, they were all of you.

“They were beautiful. Drawn in such detail that I couldn’t even believe it when I first saw them… And I look genuinely gorgeous in them,” you paused when Sunwoo scoffed at your words. “I’m not saying that to be vain,” you defended. “Trust me, I look much better in the sketches than in real life. Whoever drew them just… sees me differently than I see myself. I look beautiful in the pictures.”

“Your Professor’s right, it does sound like you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Eric teased you, pleased that somebody other than your close friends was starting to see how great you were. He wasn’t your best friend like Juyeon or Sunwoo, but he knew you well enough. “Did you get a name or anything?” he asked excitedly.

“Nothing,” you sulked. “I can take an educated guess that this person is probably in my Psych class since it’s the only class I have in that room, but who knows? It could be anyone that’s seen me before.”

“Maybe it’s one of your fans from the drama department,” Sunwoo poked fun at your cast members, not liking how they were treating you in rehearsals.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes, finally picking at your rice and starting to eat. “I just want to know who’s drawing me in such an amazing way. It’s so detailed that I assume it might be someone will a lot of skill, maybe an art major? But a lot of people draw as a hobby who aren’t art majors as well. Maybe-”

Eric interrupted you. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, trying to clam you down. “Just… slow down a little. Maybe they’ll come looking for it next time you have Psych? There’s no name or information so you can’t do anything to find them, anyways,” he rationalised, something that was usually your role in your friendships.

Your eyes lit up. “Moon scribbles,” you exclaimed.

Sunwoo gave you an unimpressed look. “Bless you.”

You ignored his cheek, taking out your phone and going onto Instagram. “The artist signed all of their drawings with a signature that says Moon scribbles,” you explained.

“You know it’s rude to go onto your phone during mealtimes,” Sunwoo replied.

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to remember that for the next time you do the same, Kim Sunwoo.”

After typing moonscribbles into the search bar, you saw an art page by the same name pop up. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to, as the bio vaguely gave information about the artist going to your University, studying art and being a pisces. Since the account was private, you decided to risk it and request to follow them, no matter how strange that might be if they weren’t the person you were looking for.

“I should have invited Juyeon out for lunch instead,” Sunwoo decided, picking at your rice dish in between bites of his noodles.

“Juyeon would rather hang out with Eric than you anyway,” you teased your friend back, knowing that Juyeon and Eric had a deeper friendship despite Sunwoo and Eric being the same age. Eric grinned, amused that the was the topic of discussion and not chiming in to deny anything. “And excuse me, I paid for lunch, you rascal! Now stop complaining, I’m done anyway.”

“Alright, fine. Did anything come up?” Sunwoo wondered, slapping your wrist when you tried to take some of his noodles. You rolled your eyes. Typical Sunwoo: always taking your food but never willing to share his with you.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

A few days passed without any response from moonscribbles on Instagram. You checked a few times a day to see if they ever accepted your request to follow them, but nothing ever came back. They didn’t deny your request, nor did they let you follow them either. It was frustrating, but it fell to the back of your mind after a week due to your schedule.

You had started doing full rehearsals with your cast members on stage for the play. At first, you thought that the setting might help you remember your lines and act without feeling awkward, but you were wrong. Most of your cast mates thought you got one of the lead roles for an alternate reason; perhaps you were related to someone on the University’s board and the director put you in because they wanted to keep their job. None of that was true, of course, but it didn’t help you make any friends.

The only friend you made was Younghoon, who played the lead opposite you, and with whom you frequently got together to go over lines and practice. He was one of those actors who was a completely different person from his role; he could keep be totally in character while doing his lines and the second the scene was over, he was back to his smiley self.

It didn’t help your confidence that he was an absolute pro. It only made you seem less competent in comparison, and you scolded yourself for even thinking that. Of course you knew it wasn’t Younghoon’s fault that he was simply much better at acting than you, but it definitely hurt your pride even more.

After another disastrous rehearsal, your cast mates had left to go backstage so you could have a word with the director. Younghoon sent you an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder before he followed your cast mates backstage, going over his lines in a faint whisper.

“Y/n,” your director began gently. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but what’s up with you?” You said nothing, prompting her to keep talking. “Your audition was really great. I knew I wanted you to play a lead role the second you were done auditioning. But you’ve been doing pretty poorly in rehearsals.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Your director sighed. “Look Y/n, I still want you to play your role. I like your chemistry with Younghoon and I think you guys could be really great leads. But if things don’t improve, I’m going to have to replace you with your understudy for the sake of this production.”

Even though you knew it was the obvious thing to do, it still hurt to hear. “I understand,” you whispered, nodding as you glanced at the floor.

“I really hope you can figure this out,” your director said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help in any way, okay?” You nodded, and your director excused herself, leaving you standing at the edge of the stage by yourself.

You groaned once you were alone, taking a seat at the edge of the stage and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Welcoming the silence in the theatre as most of the cast had left for the day, you allowed yourself to lay back and close your eyes.

Why couldn’t you get this right?

Maybe I should just quit the play, you thought to yourself. It’s probably for the best.

When you heard the gentle patter of footsteps leading onto the stage, you spoke without opening your eyes. “Let me guess, you came to tell me how terrible I am too?” you uttered, not even caring who it was anymore.

The footsteps paused. “Um, actually, I’m just here to paint the sets…” a soft male voice spoke, causing you to open your eyes and sit up.

A familiar face stood a few metres away from you, paintbrushes and paints in hand. He had black hair that slightly covered his eyes, cat-like eyes and small lips that were pursed at the awkward interaction the two of you had just had.

“Sorry,” you apologised, getting to your feet. “It’s been a rough day,” you paused. “You’re Kevin, right?”

He looked surprised that you knew who he was. “Oh. Yes, actually.”

“I’m close with Juyeon,” you explained, realising how strange it might seem that you knew his name and recognised him. “I suppose I should probably have led with that.”

Kevin smiled. “No worries. I know you as well, you’re Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, bending down to collect your script and other belongings, pushing them into your tote bag as quickly as possible. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” you smiled at him, implying it as your farewell.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re terrible,” Kevin confessed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and starting to mix paints. You glanced at him. “Are you in your head a little? Maybe. But you’re far from terrible,” he assured you, his brown eyes brimming with kindness.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” you replied. “Thanks. Although, you seem more like an artist than an actor,” you added, teasing him just a little. You couldn’t help yourself, he was pretty cute.

Kevin laughed. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “If you want me to brag about being the lead in Aladdin in middle school, then I will.”

You placed your tote bag on your shoulder, holding your hands up in surrender. “I take it back,” you said immediately. “You have more experience than I do on stage.” The two of you shared grins.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Kevin assured you. “If I can do it then you certainly can.”

He seemed really sincere, and you appreciated it. “Thanks, Kevin,” you said, feeling much lighter and in a far better mood than before Kevin had come on stage. “I’ll see you around,” you bid your farewells before exiting the stage.

You’d have to ask Juyeon more about his friend Kevin.

The next time you and Kevin bumped into each other was after one of your rehearsals a few weeks later.

You had improved in your rehearsal times, with a lot of help from Younghoon – who practiced with you in between classes – and Sunwoo – who you ran lines with anytime the two of you were together. When you were done rehearsing, your director had expressed how happy she was that you were starting to warm up to the stage and really get into the character the way she was hoping you would. Younghoon earned himself two week’s worth of free coffee from you, and your cast finally stopped glaring at you whenever you came to rehearsals.

“Oh, hey,” you greeted Kevin, who started coming onstage to work on the sets with other people who were involved in the production process. “Good to see you again,” you told him.

“You too,” Kevin beamed, his hair falling over his eyes just slightly. You had the urge to brush it out of the way so you could see him better, but you resisted the urge and scolded yourself for being so forward. “You guys are looking pretty good out there,” he complimented, waving at Younghoon as he left the theatre. His older friend gave him a knowing look, making big eyes at him and puckering his lips to tease Kevin about his crush on you.

“Thank you,” you smiled back at him, entirely clueless to Kevin cursing Younghoon with his eyes right in front of you. “The sets are really coming along too,” you commend him, gesturing around you. “It’s certainly adding some more colour to our rehearsals.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kevin replied. “Set painting isn’t exactly my vocation or anything, but it’s a fun way to help out with my skillset.”

“Skillset?” you echoed, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Ah,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’m a fine arts major. So set painting is a little less refined than what I usually do. Not that I’m bragging,” he added quickly.

“Not at all,” you agreed, your eyes widening in realisation. “Fine arts, that’s a really cool major. You must be pretty talented to get into fine arts here, it’s such a competitive major,” your eyes widened in sudden realisation. “I’d love to see something of yours that doesn’t involve painting sets,” you motioned to the stage around you.

Kevin almost blushed. “Really?” he asked, his heart beat hammering in his chest at the idea of you seeing his art.

“Yeah,” you nodded your head eagerly. Partly because you were really curious about his art, but mostly because Kevin was pretty damn cute. “For sure! I mean, if you come to opening night of the play, I’d love to go see your art some time.”

“How’s this Saturday?” Kevin asked, his words almost slurring together at the speed he was talking. “The art department’s putting on an exhibition and a few of my drawings are going to be in it.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed. “Do you think I could bring some friends?”

Kevin nodded, his deep brown eyes brightening at the idea. “For sure! I already invited Juyeon but you can bring Sunwoo along as well.”

“Then I’ll be there,” you promised.

“Oh my god, are you touching the art?” you heard Kevin exclaim semi-loudly. You froze from your place, pointing at the water fountain from which you were filling up a cup of water to drink.

“What?” you asked dumbly, your eyes widening as Kevin smirked, hiding his laughter.

It was the Saturday of Kevin’s exhibition and you were doing your best to blend in with all the artistically-minded people in the room; admiring the paintings, motioning at the sculptures and pondering over the meanings behind the light exhibitions.

“I thought this was just a regular water fountain,” you tried to defend yourself.

“It is, I’m just messing with you,” Kevin shrugged, causing you to exhale in relief and slap Kevin’s arm.

“That was awful of you,” you scolded, unable to hide the large grin making its way onto your face. “You suck.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kevin retorted easily. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied. “So, when am I going to see your pieces?” you asked, motioning around the room. It was filled to the brim and people were bustling around the room to get a good look at every piece.

“Right now if you’re up for it,” Kevin suggested, waving as Juyeon and Sunwoo made their way over to the pair of you. You had excused yourself to get some water when Kevin spotted you and came over. “Hey guys. Sunwoo, good to see you again.”

“You too,” Sunwoo replied courteously, which was unlike him. Sunwoo knew Kevin vaguely through Juyeon, who was the same age as Kevin and had a lot of classes with him, and Eric, who Kevin often hung out with because they both spoke English. “Any of these yours?”

“A few,” Kevin said modestly.

Sunwoo nodded, looking around. “Are they good or are they more… conceptual?” he asked, his own way of asking whether or not Kevin’s art was a piece of crap or not.

You rolled your eyes. “Your eloquence astounds me, Sunwoo,” you said sarcastically.

“Well I might as well get to the point,” Sunwoo chided, glancing back at Kevin. “So?”

Kevin, who was observing you and Sunwoo with the same amused smile that Juyeon was, motioned the three of you over as he led you in the direction of his drawings. “I’m not so sure if they’re good, or conceptual, but I suppose you could judge that for yourself,” he told Sunwoo, coming to a halt in front of a display of drawings.

The drawings were lively and bright; colours in the form of pastels and charcoal bringing richness and warmth to the image. Most of his drawings depicted a faceless person. There were multiple drawings where the person was being portrayed from the back, and ones that were head-on didn’t have any facial features.

“These are amazing,” you breathed out, enchanted by the creativity of the drawings, as well as the immense detail that went into them.

“I like them,” Sunwoo decided, causing Juyeon to nod in agreement.

“They’re really good,” Juyeon complimented his friend, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m really glad you decided to put something on display this year.” Juyeon knew all about the artistic slump Kevin was in last year, so he didn’t have any art on display.

Kevin thanked Juyeon quietly, still studying your expression. “Can I ask why they’re faceless?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the drawings further.

“Ah, that,” Kevin began, an uncharacteristic shyness appearing in his tone. “Well, I’ve been inspired by somebody for a few months now,” he explained. “I suppose I made my drawings faceless because I don’t want people to know who my muse is. I’m not ready to face how I feel when I draw them yet, and I think it’s too personal to put in an exhibition.”

You nodded your head, understanding where he was coming from. “That’s really great. I hope that one day I’ll get to see their face,” you said kindly, genuinely enjoying his art. Your eyes widened as you realised something. “Hey, do you know the other students in your major well?” you asked him.

Kevin raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of topic. “Yeah, I think so. We’re a small major and I have all of my 300-level classes with all the same people. Why do you ask?”

“Would you be able to recognise one of your peer’s work?” you inquired, the sketchbook in your dorm room burning a hole in your mind. He might be able to solve my curiosity.

“Maybe,” Kevin drawled slowly. “Why?” he found your sudden change of pace surprising. “What’s up?”

“Well, I found someone’s sketchbook in one of my classes and I was wondering who it belonged to,” you began, hesitating before bringing up the sketchbook you found in your Psychology class. “But they didn’t put their name on it so I can’t return it to the owner. It was really detailed and skilled work, so I thought they might be a fine arts major.”

Kevin’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

His worst nightmare had come true: you had found his sketchbook. His sketchbook that was filled with his heart-felt drawings of you. And here you were, asking him if he knew who it belonged to. Somehow, it was equal parts thrilling and mortifying.

Sunwoo, having heard about your secret admirer decided to check out a different part of the exhibition, but Juyeon – who was hearing this for the first time – stayed out of curiosity. “You found someone’s sketchbook?” he repeated. “What was in it?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Well, here’s the thing… There’s some drawings of me in it,” you admitted, feeling shy about divulging everything about the sketchbook to Kevin. “I just… I guess I want to meet the person that made me feel so vibrant and beautiful when looking at the drawings.”

“You have an admirer,” Juyeon realised, beaming at you; eyes squinting into little crescents. “That’s adorable. Does it say anything inside?”

“Yeah it does, actually,” you told him, giving him a smile before meeting Kevin’s eyes again. “All of the drawings are signed with the handle Moon scribbles,” you recalled. “No name or phone number, though.”

Juyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Kev, isn’t Moon scribbles-“

“A really interesting name?” Kevin cut Juyeon off, sending him the clear message that he wasn’t ready to tell you about the fact that you were his muse and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Getting the message, Juyeon eagerly agreed, thanking Kevin for finishing his train of thought. “Um, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before. But if you show me the drawings, maybe I could recognise the style?” Kevin suggested, coming up with a solution for you to find the owner of the sketchbook.

“That would be really great, actually,” you acknowledged. “I could bring it by the next time we hang out,” you suggested, excited to figure out who you should thank for their hard work.

“Next time?” Kevin echoed, excitement filling his stomach. “Are you really so eager to solve your mystery?” he teased you.

“Well, you’re not such a bad addition,” you added with a wink.

Kevin’s heart soared.

You met up with Kevin in the library a few days later to show him your sketchbook. It was good timing because you definitely needed to study for your Psychology class after zoning out in your last few lectures, so the library was the perfect setting to meet.

“Hey,” you greeted Kevin, taking the seat next to him on one of the sofas in the more secluded area of the library.

“Hi,” Kevin mumbled in return, his voice sounding quieter and more hoarse than usual. At first, you thought it might be the fact that he had to whisper that made him sound more quiet. Then, you spotted the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was wearing glasses, which he didn’t normally do.

“You okay?” you asked him, seeing him stretch out and yawn in his seat.

“Me?” Kevin murmured, meeting your gaze with tired, glazed-over eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Not to sound like an asshole who’s telling you that you look terrible, which I’m not, but you look really tired,” you had to tell Kevin. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Sleep,” Kevin said the word like it’s funny. “Sleep and I… we aren’t friends.”

You smiled sympathetically at your new friend. “Up all night studying?” you wondered.

“Insomnia,” Kevin corrected you.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “So sleep is… a distant acquaintance?” you played off his previous joke.

“Something like that,” he allowed, moving his glasses up onto his forehead to rub his eyes. “I’m good, though. I look like this most days, don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” you trail off, your concern still not being calmed by Kevin’s explanation. “We can do this anther time if it helps, though. I wouldn’t want you to be unwell because of me.”

Kevin grinned, adjusting the beanie on his head. “But I couldn’t possibly be unwell if I’m around you,” he said, pointing his finger in the air as if he had made an excellent realisation. “Now, show me the sketchbook.”

You pulled the sketchbook out of your tote bag and handed it over to him.

Seeing it right in front of him, Kevin could confirm that it was definitely his sketch book that you had found. Although the chances of another person on campus being entirely smitten by you to the point where you became their artistic muse was slim, it wasn’t zero.

“Can I,” he motioned to the sketchbook, asking for permission to open it. It was incredibly ironic, but Kevin was too embarrassed to come clean about the sketchbook being his.

“Go ahead,” you nodded, telling him to flip through the pages.

Kevin did so, pretending he was seeing all the drawings for the first time. He paused on every page, looking over the details in the sketches and the way they realistically depicted your features. Even though he was the one who drew them, Kevin could admit that the drawings were really great. They were great because he appreciated the subject and was inspired by you. That much was clear to anybody.

“Wow,” Kevin said when he was done looking at all the drawings, holding the sketchbook on his lap. “That’s… you,” he observed, as if he didn’t already know.

“So I’m not crazy?” you asked immediately, biting your lip. “That’s me?” you glanced down at the open page in front of Kevin, seeing the resemblance between you and the person in the drawing.

“Oh it’s definitely you,” Kevin confirmed. “Unless you have an identical twin somewhere out there, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s you.”

You let out a relieved sigh, leaning back onto the sofa. “Okay, good. I thought I was being really shallow and presumptuous at first but it’s good that you agree,” you told him, feeling a weight being lifted off your chest. “So, does it look familiar?”

“I’m not sure,” Kevin replied vaguely, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. “Do you think I could keep this? Maybe look over it a few more times when I’m not about to pass out,” he added.

“Sure,” you allowed. You trusted Kevin enough that he wouldn’t lose the sketchbook, since all of your mutual friends spoke very highly of him. Besides, you were becoming more impressed by him every time the two of you met. “I hope something comes up. I looked moonscribbles up on Instagram but their account is private and they haven’t responded to my follow request yet.”

Kevin had completely forgotten about his private art Instagram account. Before he was inspired by you to draw, he was in a serious slump and had been spiralling downwards. In this time, he made his Instagram account private in an effort to not think about it too much. Kevin scolded himself for not realising that you would look him up on social media to find him.

“That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. “Maybe they’ll respond soon?”

“I hope so,” you mumbled, sighing. “I just… I want to meet them.”

“Just out of curiosity, why do you want to meet them so badly?” Kevin wondered. “Because they drew pretty pictures of you?”

“Kind of?” you replied unsurely. “That’s definitely part of it. I guess I wanted to meet somebody who thought I was vibrant and colourful and beautiful,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. “Because I don’t think that about myself at all. It’s why I suck at acting, and it’s why my cast mates hate me. I just thought that if somebody out there really thought I was special, maybe I would have a reason to believe it, too.”

Kevin felt butterflies rising in his stomach again, but not in a fluttery, nervous way. He was anxious about what was going to happen. “I’ll do my best to help out,” he said gently. “And Y/n?” you looked back up at Kevin. “I think you’re special,” he admitted. “A lot of people do. Juyeon, Sunwoo, Eric, Younghoon… You don’t need Moon scribbles to be special, you’re already special to us.”

A grateful, shy smile spread across your lips at his words. “Thanks, Kev. For your help, and for saying that. I really appreciate it,” you acknowledged afterwards, realising that Kevin was going out of his way to figure out your mystery while he was dead tired.

Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you cleared your throat and changed the subject, heart hammering. “I’m going to stay here and study for my Psychology class, so you don’t have to stay if you’d rather get some sleep.”

“Psychology?” Kevin echoed. “Are you taking it with Professor Shin?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “She talks so fast that my hand feels like it’s going to fall off after her lectures,” you complained.

Kevin laughed. “I can relate,” he commented. “I didn’t think you were in my class. I’m in section fifteen, what about you?”

“Section twenty-two,” you said, shrugging. “Although I’m glad to hear that it’s not just my class that she’s driving crazy.”

“Ditto,” Kevin agreed. “I actually have to get some studying done for that class too. You mind if I stay?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “It always helps to study with a friend,” you added, pulling out your notes and laptop from your tote bag.

After setting up all of your work, you quickly got to studying, cross-referencing terms from your notes to the textbook to make sure you didn’t write down anything wrong in your hurry. Kevin was silent and still beside you, which you took no notice of because you were so focused. In your distraction, he soon drifted off to sleep with his pencil still in hand, head lulling back to rest on the sofa as his eyes shut by their own accord.

Forty minutes later, you had finished both of the units on Social Psychology and furrowed your brows at an unfamiliar name. “Hey Kev, did you guys talk about-“ you paused after turning to face your new friend, seeing that he was peacefully sleeping, his head now leaning to the side to face you.

The sight of him sleeping peacefully warmed your heart, especially after he had talked about his insomnia earlier. Smiling, you pulled your headphones out of your tote bag so you could listen to the recorded lectures in favour of waking up Kevin to ask him for help. As carefully as you could, you slid the pencil out of his palm and placed it to the side so he could get some rest.

You spent the next half an hour studying in silence, until you noticed Eric, Sunwoo and Jacob walking up to you and Kevin. “Hey,” Sunwoo greeted you, earning a wave from you.

“Hi guys,” you whispered back. “What’s up?”

“Are you and Kevin dating?” Eric interrupted whatever Sunwoo was about to say, an excited glint in his eyes. “You guys are in the make-out section of the library!”

You made a face. “That’s why nobody’s here?” you realised, looking around and frowning. “No, Eric. We’re just studying together.”

Jacob grinned. “Looks like Kevin’s making really great progress on that front,” he teased. “I’m Jacob, by the way,” he added, since the two of you hadn’t properly been introduced yet.

“I’m Y/n,” you replied. “Nice to finally meet you! These rascals have told me all about you,” you motioned to Sunwoo and Eric, who beamed proudly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” Jacob replied. “And I’ve come to collect Kevin. If he doesn’t wake up soon, he’s going to miss his Ceramics class,” he explained.

“Aw,” you pouted, glancing over at Kevin. “He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, though. And he said he was struggling to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “I hate waking him. Believe me, I’m his roommate so I see it all first-hand. But attendance is graded in this class, so…” he trailed off with a small shrug before leaning over and waking Kevin up.

Kevin awoke, eyes blinking drowsily as he took in the image of four people staring at him. “What did I do?” he asked, wondering what prompted all the attention.

You grinned, finding the sight rather cute. “Your wake-up service is here to tell you it’s ceramics time,” you explained.

“I fell asleep,” Kevin realised. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, feeling bad that you were studying in silence when you were supposed to be helping each other out.

“Don’t be, I’m glad you got some shut-eye,” you assured him. “Go get ready for your class.”

Kevin gathered all of his things into his bag and waved his goodbyes, trudging out of the library with Jacob. “So,” Jacob began, a wide grin gracing his features. “That’s Y/n?” he teased.

“Yes, that’s Y/n,” Kevin replied quietly.

“The famous Y/n?”

“Oh my god please tell me you didn’t say anything to Y/n.”

“What should I have said? Oh so you’re the Y/n that Kevin has been in love with all semester! The famous muse! Nice to meet you, I’m the guy that has to listen to him gush about you.”

“Don’t make me hide your guitar.”

moonscribbles accepted your follow request!

You sat up from where you were lying down on your bed, startled at the notification you had just received. Racing to open your Instagram app, you looked at moonscribbles’s account. None of the drawings on their account were of you, so you couldn’t decide if they were the right person. But they simply had to be. They went to your school, they studied art…

Braving it, you decided to send them a private message.

Hi! I think I found your sketchbook in Professor Shin’s lecture hall. How do you want me to return it to you?

You waited for a response, which came within a minute.

You can keep it.

You were pouting over your cereal in the dining hall when Juyeon joined you, his plate stacked high with all kinds of delicious breakfast foods. “Hey pouty,” he teased you, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge when he took the seat next to yours. His smile never failed to cheer you up, which is why your frown caused concern to grow in your best friend. “Why the long face?”

“I’m never going to meet moonscribbles,” you told him, your eyes uncharacteristically sad and shiny when they met Juyeon’s.

He startled at how upset you were. “What? Why would you say that?”

“They accepted my follow request on Instagram,” you explained. “And they told me I could keep the sketchbook. Then they went offline,” you recalled. “I guess I was wrong about them.”

“I’m sorry. Whoever they are, they clearly have no idea what they’re missing.” Juyeon frowned, sympathetic of your situation and confused about what Kevin thought he was doing.

“What who’s missing?” Jacob and Eric took the seats opposite you and Juyeon, their plates equally filled with breakfast foods.

“Moon scribbles,” you said vaguely, not wanting to get into it with anyone other than Juyeon and Sunwoo. While you were starting to get to know Jacob better, you didn’t feel comfortable enough around them to discuss the matter with them. And of course you loved Eric, and he knew your situation, but you hadn’t anticipated feeling so upset about Moon scribbles’s response.

“Kevin?” Jacob asked innocently, picking up his fork and elbowing Eric so he wouldn’t steal his food. “What did he do?”

Your eyes snapped over to Jacob. “What did you just say?” you asked. Juyeon’s eyes widened, mouth slightly open as Jacob revealed Kevin’s secret to you without even realising it.

“I was asking what Kevin did,” Jacob repeated. “You said Moon scribbles, didn’t you? Kevin’s artist handle?”

“That’s clever,” Eric chimed in, innocently eating his food. “Since his last name is Moon, and all.” Then his eyes widened and he realised the situation, his gaze snapping over at you to see how you were handling the reveal.

In that moment, you’d never felt like more of an idiot.

“Kevin is Moon scribbles,” you echoed, dropping your fork onto your tray.

“Oh,” Jacob paused, reading the room as he saw the way Juyeon was staring at him. “Did you… not know that?”

“No,” you told him, having lost your already minimal appetite. “He didn’t say a thing.”

“Oh boy,” Jacob said awkwardly. “I feel like I definitely just messed up.”

“No, no,” you denied, waving your hand in Jacob’s direction. “Not at all. I’m just glad that I know who it is,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself. “Did you know?” you asked Juyeon. “That day at the exhibition… You were trying to tell me that you knew it was Kevin, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I knew,” Juyeon replied slowly, confirming your suspicions.

For a moment, a dull pain ached in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, hurt that your best friend had lied to you.

“Because I figured Kevin wanted to tell you in his own time,” he explained. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, I just thought he’d do the right thing and explain it to you himself. It felt like it wasn’t my news to tell.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “I understand,” you got to your feet, grabbing your tray after putting your bag on your shoulder.

Juyeon stood up with you. “Are you upset with me?” he asked. “Because I understand if you are.”

You did your best to smile, not caring if it looked real or not. “I’m not upset with you,” you assured him. “I’m upset, but not at you. I have to get to the last dress rehearsal before opening night, so,” you glanced over at Jacob and Eric, who both looked mortified. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you told them before putting your tray away and walking to the theatre as quickly as you could.

“Hey!” your director greeted you when you came in, beaming. “You’re like a half hour early,” she observed.

“Oh, I’ve just come to go over lines and talk to some friends,” you lied, smiling at her before stepping backstage. The set design volunteers were adding last-minute touched to their sets, and you knew that was where you’d find Kevin.

“Hey,” he greeted you when you arrived in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Moon scribbles doesn’t want their sketchbook back,” you told him, as if you didn’t know that he was Moon scribbles. “So you don’t have to keep looking for them,” you added.

“Oh, okay,” Kevin nodded as if he didn’t already know this. “Did you want the sketchbook back?”

“You can keep it,” you declined, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s rightfully yours anyway.”

Kevin paused his painting. “It is?” he asked, voice squeaking just slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, Moon scribbles,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Besides, it’s the only way you’ll get to see me ever again, anyway,” you added, frowning as you turned around to go. “Bye, Kevin.”

“Wait,” Kevin put his fine paintbrush down to stop you from leaving.

“What?” you asked him, facing him with a raised eyebrow. “You know what, I actually really want to hear this. What exactly is it that you’re going to say to save this situation?” you wondered.

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” he began.

“That’s a joke,” you accused. “You knew how much this meant to me! Just admit that you were never going to tell me that you’re Moon scribbles.”

“How could I tell you?” Kevin exclaimed, startling you with his sudden increase in volume. “How could I just come forward and tell you that it was me? What would you have thought of me?”

“I’d have thought more of you than I do now,” you retorted. “Look, I get it now. I read the situation all wrong. You don’t think I’m special or vibrant or any of those things. You just drew me because I was there, I suppose,” you decided, feeling your heart dropping in your chest at your own words.

“That is not true,” Kevin denied, shaking his head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I suppose you might have though I was pretty if you drew me,” you allowed. “But clearly, I was putting too much onto this whole Moon scribbles thing, and it didn’t mean anything to you at all. Which is fine, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It just sucks that you couldn’t just tell me that to my face,” you confessed wholeheartedly. “But it’s fine. You can just go back to drawing your faceless muse now, I’m over it,” you lied.

“That’s not why I didn’t want to tell you that I’m Moon scribbles,” Kevin insisted. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I drew you just because you’re beautiful.”

“That worked out well,” you muttered.

Kevin sighed. “I don’t care about your looks, as ironic as that sounds. When I first saw you… You exuded an aura. I know that sounds cheesy and not everyone believes in vibes or energy, or whatever, but it’s true. You inspired me to draw and be creative,” he explained. “But I liked you when I met you. When I saw you in class and when I saw you around Sunwoo and Juyeon. You don’t get it. You are my faceless muse. You have been ever since our Cultural Anthropology class last semester.”

That stopped your train of thought. “You were in that class?” you repeated, confused.

“Yes I was. The first time I saw you… I swear, I haven’t drawn anything other than you since that day,” Kevin’s tone was uncharacteristically serious, and you felt inclined to believe him. “No matter how hard I tried. Flowers turned into your eyes, landscapes became your hair; I was a man possessed. I still am.”

“Then why not tell me all of this?” you wondered, frustrated with the situation.

“I thought that if you found out I was Moon scribbles, you’d just think I was shallow,” he paused. “Or worse.”

You rose an eyebrow. “Worse?”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to sound frustrated. “I mean, I’m not so great and special. I figured you’d be disappointed that it’s me.”

Your heart clenched for him. “How could I be disappointed that it’s you?” you asked him. “You’re great. It’s me who’s awful.”

“You aren’t awful,” he denied. “You’re so much greater than you can see. Don’t you get it? You inspired me to create after the most awful year I’ve ever had artistically. I drew you instead of studying, I drew you instead of leaving my dorm, hell, I drew you instead of sleeping. You didn’t misunderstand anything. I do think that you’re special, and vibrant.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay,” you spoke quietly, your mind spinning in circles. “I believe you.”

Kevin nodded. “Good.”

You nodded back at him, unsure of how to continue. “So… You have a sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you decided to tease him, just to bring some of the usual lightheartedness you felt around Kevin back.

Kevin visibly reddened at your words. “I mean… I’d be lying if I said it was just one,” he confessed.

You brightened at his words. “You have multiple sketchbooks full of drawings of me?” you exclaimed.

“I made drawings of you for the art exhibition,” he reminded you. “I haven’t been able to draw anything else for seven months. And I draw a lot, so the sketchbooks just started piling up. Plus my iPad,” catching the delighted glint in your eyes, Kevin cut himself off. “You know what, we don’t have to talk about my iPad.”

You smiled, flattered that Kevin had been so inspired by you. “Well, thank you. For filling sketchbooks and iPads and whatever other mediums with drawings of me. You made me feel seen for the first time in a really long time, and I appreciate it,” you acknowledged his efforts. “Is this why everyone acts so weird when we’re together?” you put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked, dreading your answer.

“Eric practically skips over to me whenever he sees me now, asking about you and all kinds of other things. Jacob is a lot more subtle, but he looks at me like a proud dad sometimes,” you explained.

Kevin rested his palm against his forehead. “Why are they so obvious?”

“The real question is: Why was Juyeon the least obvious,” you retorted.

“I think he just wanted us both to figure things out in our own time,” Kevin mused, earning a hum and a nod in agreement from you.

“Hey Y/n,” Younghoon poked his head around the corner. “We’re getting ready for rehearsals. Are you going to be done in time to change?” he asked, eyes flitting between you and Kevin.

“Yeah, I’m good to start getting ready. Thanks Younghoon,” you agreed, grateful that your friend wasn’t making a big deal out of what he might have overheard. Younghoon nodded, disappearing with a wink to get himself ready. “Well, that’s my cue,” you trailed off, motioning to the backstage area where you had to get changed for your last dress rehearsal.

Kevin nodded, slightly upset that your conversation didn’t come to a closure yet. “Okay,” he replied. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

You agreed with him, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it on the floor and making your way to the changing rooms. Before you opened the door, you turned back to face Kevin, who had been watching you leave. “I came to your exhibition, so you have to come to opening night,” you reminded him of the agreement the two of you made.

“I’ll be there,” Kevin assured you, taking it as a sign that the two of you could still – at the very least – be friends.

“Good,” you smiled. “And after opening night, we have a few days off so I would definitely be available, say, Wednesday?” you informed him, hoping he’d get the idea.

Kevin brightened up, his posture straightening suddenly. “Oh?” he stammered. “Would you maybe want to get dinner on Wednesday?” he offered. “Like, a date?”

You grinned, your eye dropping into a wink. “What an excellent idea,” you told him. “By the way, don’t bother asking the boys about what I like, they’re completely clueless. My favourite flowers are peonies.”

“Peonies,” Kevin repeated, accompanied by a nod. “Any preferred colour?” he asked, giddy with excitement at the outcome your confrontation had.

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

note: okay i know you guys waited forever for this so thank you so much for your patience!! i hope you guys enjoyed it xx

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #kevin #kevin imagines #kevin x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz fanfic #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kevin moon #2k celebration

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imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper · 3 years

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Everything you never thought to ask and never wanted to know about my Josépan playlist/history with and opinions of the ship.

Intro:

The journey of this playlist has been a long one, starting on Amazon Music and my old, janky and now defunct Ipad.

STRAP IN, CHILDREN AS I TAKE YOU BACK TO A MAGICAL TIME WHEN NEITHER LEGENDS OF THE THREE CABALLEROS; NOR THEIR CAMEO IN DUCKTALES HAD BEEN ANNOUNCED YET, MY BLOG ON TUMBLR DIDN’T EXIST (THOUGH I WAS LURKING) AND PANCHITO WAS STILL THE LEAST POPULAR CABALLERO, otherwise known as around late 2017.

A word on the origins of the playlist:

The playlist was not initially Ducktales focused because the two didn’t exist in Ducktales yet. I was rather unenthusiastic back in the day about this ship (oh how the times change) but I had stumbled across a song that didn’t fit them and Donald but fit just them very well and wanted to make an animatic of it. So, I cobbled together some songs I thought fit the vibe and made a playlist.

The history behind the story that inspired it:

I’ll spare you from starting at the very beginning. But, when “The Town Where Everyone was Nice” premiered I was already thoroughly and utterly obsessed with the cabs; I remember how beyond ecstatic I was for the episode. My hype for the Ducktales versions of José and Panchito continued far beyond what seems to have been normal for the average cabs fan. I found myself drawn to the ideas put forth by those versions of them. I don’t really remember what the tipping point was for me to break down and make my own college AU but eventually I did. It was affectionately dubbed “The TV Show That Will Never Happen AU.” José and Panchito were enemies to lovers or at least to friends. And it was around that time I began to go CRAZY with the headcanons as I got more active in the fandom. While my ideas for the Ducktales versions of them grew and grew, so too did the time between them appearing in “The Town Where Everyone was Nice” and their alleged next appearance in the show. When fans noticed the distinct lack of José and Panchito in the season two finale of Ducktales, Francisco Angones, @//suspenderofdisbelief on Tumblr answered these two separate asks that I might have engraved on tombstone one day:

I was GONE for the ship after that. I developed another AU for them based around their time in Baia trying to get people to fund their attempts to become famous musicians. Also, slowly falling in love... It was affectionately titled “The Fan-Comic that Will Never Happen” but not yet connected to my college AU. I don’t have much of a timeline for it after this point, but with that AU I really hit my stride for interpretations of the two characters and their dynamic. The version of them I hold dear in my heart and headcanons came to be. Then “Louie’s Eleven” came out and absolutely destroyed a lot of my headcanons (just kidding, just kidding). Since the new canon material didn’t really jive with a lot of the wholesomeness I had built up I was left with a lot of something else: angst. I LOVE angst, but the two’s bitterness and arguing...It was hard to accept at the time. Me and @cartoon-lizard on Tumblr, my IRL best friend, wound up writing a Josépan fic fueled on a bit of that angst and by her grace, a lot of my headcanons. I titled it “My Reverie is Being Haunted by That Ass.” In it Panchito makes an ass (rimshot noises) of himself by running off with a producer he met by chance during a visit in Duckburg to try to become famous. And doing so without so much as a second thought to the person he’s been living with/sort of dating for over a year. It took me a while but eventually I figured it out. These weren’t three separate AUs, these were three separate pieces of the same AU. And so my masterpiece never meant to be made came to be: “The Trilogy: College/Baia/Reverie.”

“The Trilogy” Itself:

The story will never be written for a variety of reasons, personal and practical. But if it ever were to be written it would be three separate fics, aka: College, Baia and Reverie.

College encapsulates their college years (duh).

To set the stage:

Panchito: A friendly, arrogant and easily excitable musician with big dreams, good grades and a whole lot of anxiety and insecurity. He has complicated feelings towards his identity as both trans and pan and how that might affect his dreams of becoming famous, but is overall bright eyed and innocent enough.

José: A lazy (depressed), charming, pessimistic, tbh kind of a douche and deep in the closet gay man. He tends to push forward a very “Manly man” persona to make up for his own deep seated internalized homophobia brought on by a shitty upbringing. He just got away from said shitty upbringing and doesn’t really have any hopes for his future...Maybe to travel a bit?

José and Panchito start as enemies, both fearing losing their one real friend, Donald, to the other. Despite this the three start a band and the two’s rivalry becomes far more friendly. They get particularly close during the trip down to Acapulco for spring break where the general feeling of being disconnected from life and reality leads to several rather romantic moments between the two...They almost become a thing several times but never quite do. However, they are very good friends by the end of college. The three stay in contact for a while after college but eventually lose touch…

Baia timeskips forward 13 years later (I know it's only 10 canonically, I always say 13 for reasons) to a conversation between Panchito and José on the Sunchaser at the end of “The Town Where Everyone Was Nice.”

Panchito: Life hasn’t been kind to Panchito...His need to be famous, to be something in order to be someone has led him to push a lot of people out of his life so he can better focus on “Work.” Or drive them out by constantly asking for their support, financial or otherwise. He has no friends and even his relationships with his loving and supportive family are strained. Currently, he’s working freelance as a performer at childrens’ birthday parties (in his eyes: a clown) and goes home to a sad, empty apartment every night to stare at a notebook full of half written songs and muster enough energy to eat cereal for dinner for the third time in a row. Needless to say, his optimism is wearing thin.

José: A lot of hard work on his part, some good therapy and mmm; drugs have put him in a pretty good place. He’s more or less got his life together now, is way less of a douche and is more of a realist than a pessimist. He’s also pretty much completely comfortable in his identity as a gay man. He’s been trying to explore romantic relationships, but unfortunately (likely due to the loveless marriage between his parents making him strive so hard to believe that love is real that he puts the unrealistic goal of true love above all else) feels incomplete without one and double unfortunately has a tendency to be drawn to toxicity and abusive situations. So other than a string of (short lived) bad relationships, he’s actually doing great!

Panchito has already asked Donald to drop everything and stay with him down in Baia to try to get funding for the band. Donald said no. José has a steady job, a decent apartment and a supportive friend group back home. He's also long since lost interest and hope in their college dreams of being famous...José says yes. The two have a bunch of wild and wacky shenanigans trying to get funding and both dance around their growing feelings for each other until it explodes and overwhelms them. They rush into a romantic relationship head first with no real ground for it to be built on and unrealistic expectations of what the other can give them. Despite all this, things seem quite happy...for a while…

If you've made it this far, <3, CONT. in pt 2.

#the word of grim #please god don't actually try to read the whole thing #Josépan #panjosé #José x Panchito #panchito x josé #shades of red and green #pt. 1 #this is really meant for my peeps on the cabs discord but if you see this and are inclined to read it #please do I will cry #but like...skim it...

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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 288: ZOOM AND ENHANCE

Previously on BnHA: Tomura, AFO, Deku, and Nana all met up inside of OFA and were all, “wow this is awkward.” AFO talked a whole bunch about vestiges before realizing that nobody cared (EXCEPT FOR ME. I CARED!!), and was then all “anyway so just to get everyone up to speed here, Tomura is Nana’s grandson.” OFA appeared and was all “what up bro I see you’re still a dick”, and then everyone stood around for a bit waging psychokinetic war on each other and blowing up on the ground and shit. This didn’t really accomplish anything, so AFO shifted gears and started trash talking Deku instead, because he’s a whiny little punkass loser who can’t admit when his brother has gotten the best of him yet again! OFA was all “anyways Deku rules and haters gonna hate, peace”, and then everyone wooshed back out of OFA and back into the real world, Deku with his quirk still intact. Meanwhile Gigantomachia and the LoV stampeded ever closer to the city, and Toga started monologuing in preparation for a seemingly inevitable battle with Ochako! And then the chapter basically just ended there lol.

Today on BnHA: Imagine you are Uraraka Ochako. And you’re out here doing what you do best, saving bitches and being a badass, when all of a sudden some old lady runs up to you and is all “PLEASE HELP ME, MY HUSBAND IS ASLEEP OR SOME SHIT, YOU KNOW US OLD PEOPLE, WE’RE SO FUCKING FEEBLE AND HAPLESS.” And so you’re all “OF COURSE” because you’re a good fucking person, and then she speeds off like she’s got fucking wheels and it’s like damn, grandma, were you in varsity track or what, and then OUT OF NOWHERE she just spontaneously turns into HIMIKO FUCKING TOGA. And she’s all naked and shit, and it’s like damn, Toga, where are your clothes, and she just giggles and ducks into a nearby building. And so you follow her for god knows what reason, and she fucking pounces on you and starts interrogating you in like the most seductive way possible, and you’re all wtf is this. Like, can you even imagine. Anyway so Ochako is having quite a day.

okay lol so I’ve gotta kind of rush through this since I’ve got other stuff I need to wrap up today as well, so! fingers crossed that we get a nice, simple chapter with no controversies or elaborate revelations or anything like that! just give me lots of stuff to mindlessly keysmash about, Horikoshi. I’m counting on you bro

lol what

an actual fucking plane?? is that allowed?? how bizarrely normal. are we sure this plane does not shoot lasers or something or is powered by someone with like a fusion reactor quirk idk

and who tf is Takeo-san. some random guy Horikoshi is suddenly introducing after 300 chapters to come save everyone at the last minute? pretty sus. Horikoshi is this your self insert

GASP

NO WAY THIS IS ALL MIGHT, RIGHT?? holy shit I swear to god if it’s All Might this lady needs to TURN THE FUCK AROUND RIGHT NOW. stop at McDonalds, order a black coffee for herself and only herself, and drive the rest of the way back home without so much as a bathroom break. there are certain prophecies which we don’t need to be tempting right now, okay people?? holy shit

(ETA: OR, here’s a thought, WHAT IF IT’S BEST JEANIST. hope springs eternal lmao. anyways though surely it’s not actually All Might. he can’t die yet, he’s got like 5 million secret things he needs to explain to Deku, and also Kacchan is unconscious and he can’t just SLEEP RIGHT THROUGH ALL MIGHT’S DEATH like come on.)

oh look more heroes all lining up to be slaughtered by Machia

real talk, at this point their priority should just be evacuating any citizens in Machia’s path, and then getting the fuck out of his way. none of them stand a chance in hell at stopping him and they know it. the body count is already high enough as it is. regroup and live to fight another day, people

anyway, so Machia is apparently plowing through cities at 100km per hour. that... actually might not be fast enough. Gunga and Jakku were 80km apart, so at that rate it would take him nearly an hour to reach Tomura. that fight’s gonna be long done by the time they get there. huh

okay these guys are saying he’s going to reach them in about 8 minutes. ?? so are you telling me Tomura and Deku and the rest have been fighting for like 40 minutes already?? lmao Gran probably bled to death half an hour ago at this rate. Horikoshi please explain yourself. some of us spent our entire childhoods doodling comics instead of paying attention in math and science AND IT SHOWS

anyway so this is all very bad and this guy is really rubbing it in just how bad it is

I mean... yeah. obviously the villains are still to blame at the core of it all, but yeah. feels like you all could have planned a hell of a lot better for this. you knew there was the risk of Tomura waking up, and you knew there was also the risk of Gigantomachia waking up as well. and you pretty much had no contingency plan at all huh. society is really gonna be in shambles after this

lmao look at this shit. Machia is so big at this point that it looks like they’re having a picnic in the middle of some desert somewhere. at what point does it cease being a guy’s back and start being its own zip code

even has its own wifi. amazing

oh shit Compress apparently spotted someone and he’s asking Skeptic to “zoom and enhance” like it’s CS fucking I. that’s not how it works Compress you fucking boomer

anyway so OF COURSE,

was there a reason you needed to zoom in on them, other than to trigger Toga?? some people just want to watch the world burn

so Toga is now GEARIN’ UP!!

that honestly is so fucking handy. over at U.A. they have to carry their gear in briefcases like scrubs. does Compress actually have the best quirk in the world?? it flies under the radar so well that I always forget about it, but like WHAT CAN’T IT DO though, y’know??

WELL WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN MY DUDE

“oh hey is that the U.A. kids? Skeptic could you please zoom in on them for absolutely no reason? OH MY GOD TOGA IS RUNNING OFF TO FIGHT THEM, OH MY GOD WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN, OH MY GOD”

now he’s all “DABI PLEASE DO SOMETHING” but Dabi is all “DABI DON’T CARE”

Dabi don’t care about NOTHING OR NO ONE!! Dabi don’t got time for this

lmao I literally forgot that Spinner was even there, shit

so are you gonna go with her then or not? because I got news for you dude, it doesn’t matter how heartwarming your speech is, nothing can stop this girl now that she’s gone full distracted boyfriend meme

AW BUT IT REALLY IS HEARTWARMING THOUGH

Spinner is the glue keeping this dysfunctional Addams family together honestly. too bad he couldn’t stop Compress from OPENING HIS BIG DUMB MOUTH ah well

lmao but he’s letting her go anyway though

Spinner for new LoV President. all in favor??

ANYWAYS LOL THIS IS BAD

“ACCELERATE EVACUATIONS” LOL WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO OCHAKO HE’S MOVING AT 100KM AN HOUR AND HE’S LIKE FUCKING GODZILLA SIZED FKJLK

“PLEASE RUN OUTSIDE OF THE VILLAIN’S PERIPHERY” well thank fucking god the people have you guys to guide them what would they even do without you lklkhlkds

NO HORIKOSHI DON’T YOU DARE

IF YOU HURT MY GIRL FROPPY I SWEAR TO GOD!! LEAVE HER ALONE YOU BRIGAND

OH THANK GOD

“sorry for SAVING YOUR LIFE” smh. anyway so how fucking badass is Ochako though?? can we just talk about this. THE GIRL POWER ARC STRIKES AGAIN hot damn

(ETA: and btw, seeing as Iida is nowhere to be found, I’d say odds are pretty good that they did in fact send him to go warn the Endeavorsquad of Gigantomachia’s imminent arrival. godspeed Iida! they need all the help they can get right now honestly.)

EXCUSE ME BUT ARE YOU TOGA

IS THIS TOGA. THIS IS DEFINITELY TOGA OMG

“I IMMEDIATELY TRUST YOU AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH” noooo Ochako nooooo

damn Toga you really drained some poor old lady’s blood just so you could pull this kind of sneaky shit. I forgot how much I loved you

ohhhh lol so it’s her “husband” that is Takeo-san lol

THE BETTER TO LURE YOU INTO A TRAP MY DEAR

lmao Ochako you rube

now you’ve done it Toga. there is nothing Ochako loves more than a good old fashioned Old People Romance. DID YOU KNOW SHE HAS SEEN THE NOTEBOOK LIKE FIFTY TIMES. AND NO MATTER WHAT, IT ALWAYS GETS HER AT THE END. meanwhile I just want to watch a movie where James Marsden actually gets the girl for once but we all know that will never happen

OH MY

ngl this page would be like a thousand times better if Ochako was still blushing omg. did I ship this before?? I honestly can’t remember but I sure as fuck ship it now goddammit

(ETA: pretty sure I shipped it back during the Forest arc too but I don’t have time to check right now lol. but Toga is just so horny on main for everyone, all the time, and so like, it’s hard not to ship it.)

so now Toga is running off all flirtatiously and Ochako is barreling after her lol

plot twist, Takeo-san is actually in there. and he has NO IDEA what’s going on. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WIFE. WHY IS THERE A GIANT MOLE MAN BURROWING THROUGH THE CITY

Ochako why on earth would you follow Toga into this dark creepy house where she could spring at you from any angle out of nowhere. just go back outside and float up over it until you have a high enough vantage point to see all the exits and just wait for her to come out

Toga says she wanted to talk to Tsuyu-chan as well, but let’s be real, you and her don’t have the same kind of electrically charged kismesis energy that you’ve got going on with Ochako though

LMAO DEKU NOWHERE IS SAFE

getting dragged like a fucking wedding train and he’s not even there to defend himself, shit

blah blah blah just ask her your question already Toga

MY WORD

would someone please inform Toga that this manga is only rated PG-13

so now Ochako is all “seriously Toga wtf”

you see that’s what I wanted to know too, lol. I really like that the characters actually think about these things and ask these kind of questions. that’s exactly the contrast between the heroes and the villains right there. the villains care about each other, they’ll give each other heartwarming speeches to please come back alive, and yet they’re utterly indifferent to the thousands of people being killed as they demolish their way through city after city. meanwhile by contrast Ochako’s first thought upon being erotically waylaid by her sexy knife-wielding archnemesis is “but what about that poor old lady is she all right.” just completely opposite energies, almost to a hilarious degree. like maybe Ochako actually should worry about herself just a little bit more lol but heroes gonna hero

and so now what, Toga!! you’re gonna pout about it?? like she’s betrayed you somehow?

anyway so that’s the end of the chapter! and I’ll just come right out and say that I’m hoping that this fight ends up being something where Toga maybe starts to see things just a little bit more from Ochako’s point of view, and not the other way around, because otherwise I’ll be a little frustrated, ngl. the manga has done an excellent job of making the villains likeable and relatable and getting us to sympathize with them up till this point, but at some point it’s got to start refuting some of these arguments and making it clear that the villains do not actually have any kind of moral high ground here

and also! I really like Toga and would like her to have some kind of redemption arc! but as of now that’s looking to be really difficult if not impossible to pull off, because Toga hasn’t exactly shown a whole lot of remorse for anything she’s done so far, you know? because she doesn’t see it as bad in any way; to her it’s just her way of expressing love, and being true to who she is. but being true to yourself really should NOT involve, you know, MURDER, and so yeah. it’s a problem lmao

but who knows! maybe this battle with Ochako will be the start of something which eventually leads to some sort of change within her! I have absolutely no idea how that could play out tbh, but even so I can hope! either that or she will double down on the whole “villains are victims and heroes are apathetic cruel hypocrites” ideology and decide she wants to kill Ochako and Izuku for breaking her heart, in which case I will be very sad, but I guess if that’s the way Horikoshi’s gonna play it it is what it is!

and lastly, so is this going to be like the final battle between them or something?? surely not, right? like this is just round 2 of 3. well at any rate, it’s sure going to be interesting

#bnha 288 #himiko toga #uraraka ochako #asui tsuyu #mr. compress #league of villains #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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thevioletjones · 3 years

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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fruit-teeth · 3 years

Text

Obscure stories from my childhood/teen years

1. Once when I was like three years old and laying in bed, I watched a black, slimy creature with red eyes climb out of my floorboards and look me in the eyes while grinning before disappearing. This memory has haunted me for years and I’m sure it was just a dream, but if it wasn’t...what the fuck

2. When I took tap-dancing lessons, a screw came loose in my tap shoe and scraped the floor by mistake. Upon noticing it, my dance instructor began screaming and crying and hyperventilating, and she went to get her husband who then started screaming at me because the floors were apparently very expensive (I was six so why he thought I would understand this is beyond me). Later, one of my friends in middle school had the same dance instructor, but when I told him this story I don’t think he believed me.

3. At that same dance program, I knew a girl who was really rude to everyone except me, but she only liked me because I brought plastic dragons to our class and she really liked dragons. I looked her up on Facebook awhile ago and she’s apparently a physic medium now. I have no idea what to do with this information

4. My nickname in eighth grade and all throughout high school was Pony, because I drew My Little Pony characters all over my notebooks. I also did a video project for my Global History class wherein I didn’t want to film my own face so instead I used my Fluttershy doll to explain the history of Libya. Thinking about this makes me cringe so hard every muscle in my body clenches

5. In high school, I role played as a character from Homestuck to impress some girls I was friends with. The kicker: I have never read Homestuck

6. I found a book of magic spells when I was 15, and the first thing I did was curse one of my teachers. I don’t think it worked, but he did get a broken rib several weeks later in an ice skating incident. However, a week after his accident, I got the worst stomach flu I have ever had. Karma is real

7. I quoted Doug Walker (the Nostalgia Critic) in an essay I wrote for my sophomore English class...and I am ashamed. To be fair, though, I don’t think my teacher even read it because she gave me a 95 anyway.

8. In fifth grade, I drew the PowerPuff Girls violently attacking my teacher because she made me mad one day. In case you can’t tell my relationships with my teachers were troubled

9. I wrote a series of very terrible Invader Zim fan comics in 7th grade. The plot was incomprehensible, but it was full of memes and a surprising amount of fan made lore. I also unapologetically stole jokes from other comics. I still have all of these comics but I am in decisive over ever sharing them with anyone because GOD they are bad

10. At ten years old, I opened up a word document and typed my first fanfiction. It was a PowerPuff Girls fanfic and it wasn’t good, but my mom was so impressed that on Thanksgiving, she printed it out and had all of my family members take turns reading it. Thinking about this sort of makes me cringe but at the time I felt like the coolest bitch on the block

#facts about me no one asked for #you can laugh at me its okay #lol #text post #just me things #writing #my writing #long post #childhood #ask to tag #mlp #powerpuff girls #iz #should i even tag homestuck #I’ve literally never read it #ah well

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

It’s This Jealousy

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I got tagged in this post right here by @starkerscoop and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it. It got a little smutty at the end - hope you don’t mind! (& @send-me-your-hcs asked for a tag, too!) Warnings: masturbation Summary:

It's this jealousy Oh, and I just can't believe In this jealousy This jealousy for you

At the ripe age of 49, Tony never imagined he’d be best friends with an 18-year-old. After all the mess with Steve and Bucky, things were a little strained between Rhodey and Tony. It wasn’t anything personal, there were just lots of things between them now, the leg braces he worked constantly to improve not even close to the only thing. With Peter, Tony could simply be. Their shared history wasn’t filled with anything other than a little tension and some misplaced control on Tony’s part.

The more Tony started to see Peter as the intelligent person he was and not the kid he always made him out to be, the more he wanted to have the younger man around. There was something in the way he tilted his head to ask questions and babbled incessantly that Tony just felt drawn to. Try as he might, there was no escaping the magnetic pull that drew him more towards Peter every single day.

It wasn’t subtle, either – the way they just seemed to fit. Peter moved into Avenger’s tower after graduating; the transition from part time to full time was and easy one, he fit right in with everyone – especially Tony. It didn’t take long for the two of them to break off and head for the lab together or be found in the living room pressed together from shoulder to hip talking quietly amongst themselves.

If someone was looking for Tony, they always pointed him in Peter’s direction. There weren’t many times throughout the day that they weren’t together. Tony appreciated Peter’s brain – he thought from all angles and wasn’t afraid to be wrong. There were many times when Peter taught Tony something new or made him go back and look at things from a totally different perspective.

Just the other day, Tony sat with his head in his hands, the nanotech and its housing unit he’d been trying to manipulate for the last hour sitting uselessly on the desk. A soft touch on his shoulder had him looking up, a smile overtaking his face for the first time all day. “Hey, kid,” Tony said in greeting, his hand coming up to hold Peter’s to his shoulder for a moment. “Training go well?”

He’d been trying to update his suit, so he stepped out of the group training for the day. The transition from the mechanism on his chest to the full suit was still too slow – he needed at least another second off of the total time. The headache didn’t seem worth it at that point, though – he should have worked the frustrations out. His head ached and he wanted to pull the freshly showered Peter Parker closer to him more than usual.

When Tony let go of Peter’s hand, he was surprised to find that Peter didn’t move his hand from its place on his shoulder. In fact, the fingers there dug in, the tips moving up and down the line of muscle. He tried not to move – the last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid away; the touch felt amazing. It was almost enough to make the collection of useless tech below him not matter. Almost.

“It did – the new adjustments you made to the aiming system did a world of good. I was moving so fast today,” Peter answered, his voice excited. Tony forced himself to settle on the slightest flash of a smile – Peter loved being a superhero, it was so insanely obvious. More often times than not, Tony found himself working on Peter’s suit just to see the astonishing smile on his face – the very one that was beaming back at him right now.

Tony picked up the small screwdriver he’d been using to mess with the back paneling, his face burning a little from the rush of affection that washed over him. It didn’t make sense, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. But he couldn’t help it – Peter was so wholesome and filled with excitability and life; it was hard not to be drawn to it. “Bummed I missed it. I’ll pull the data from EDITH later – we can do a little data spec. I’ll see it in real time that way.”

He heard Peter suck in a breath, then saw the smile on his face grow wider. “That sounds like a good idea. I also brought some new ideas for the next evolution of web fluid. I’m so close to a breakthrough.” He went about taking his StarkPad and old-fashioned spiral notebook out of his backpack, excitement written all over his face.

Sitting down next to him (instead of across from him like not too long ago) Peter leaned into Tony’s space, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s this,” Peter remarked, pointing to the external structure. “The adjustments you made on the shooters was in the programming. I don’t think it’s a mass thing, either. I think it’s in the transition.” To Tony��s surprise, he opened his notebook and pointed to a couple different equations. “I ran these this morning when I saw what you were looking at yesterday.”

Peter’s cheeks were red, and his body radiated the kind of heat that shouldn’t have been natural. It made his entire right side warm, the bare skin of his forearms prickling from the contact. Letting his eyes roam over the work, Tony leaned into him – an arm wrapping around his shoulder. “This is good stuff, Pete. I think I know exactly where to go now.” He kept his arm there for a few minutes, the two of them still lightly discussing the numbers and what brought Peter down that path.

A week later, his suit was ruining faster than ever before. Every time he punched the mechanism and the nanotech did its thing, Tony felt a warm drip of pride in the middle of his core – the little bits of attraction he’d been trying to hide getting harder and harder to ignore.

Especially because Peter seemed to think that their friendship came with an all access pass – to him, to the never-ending stream of thoughts that ran through his head, hell, to Tony’s things. Many times, he’d come back from a meeting and find Peter passed out on the edge of his bed, the huge TV dialed in to some anime show he couldn’t force himself to get into. He never did anything about it – how could he? Most of his daydreams revolved around that very instance.

After a few weeks, Peter started to talk – like, really talk. He started with the story of how his parents died and the struggle it was to get used to living with May and Ben. Peter talked about the things he missed because he didn’t have parents in his life, no matter how much his aunt and uncle tried.

The more time they spent together, the more Peter let himself be free with his words. Tony knew what type of shampoo he preferred, how many times May walked in on him naked or unclothed, and all the different fanfictions currently all the rage.

They were close – plain and simple. There were a few times when their closeness seemed like it might be something else, but neither man acted upon it. Tony didn’t want to apply undue pressure to a situation that only few people his age were interested in. He didn’t know much about Peter’s thoughts on that matter – it was the one thing they didn’t talk about.

MJ quickly became a topic that strictly stayed in the friend pile, Peter’s interest in her weaning significantly after some sort of mishap during their trip to Europe.

Tony spent most of his time holed up in his bedroom the entire week Peter was gone, his mind and body exhausted from all the work he managed to get done in the comfort of his king-sized bed. He didn’t talk to anyone, Tony keenly aware that his behavior was not appropriate for an almost 50-year-old person.

He could never admit that Peter coming back was the best day of the entire summer – the two of them quickly catching up on his use of EDITH and the different aspects of the new suit he wanted to start working on for his patrols back in the city. It seemed like nothing changed between them – but relationships or anything related weren’t brought up again.

The idea that he wasn’t approachable in that area made his jaw clench. His history didn’t lend itself to a positive image, he could admit that. There were a few years when things were so out of whack that only going from one thing to the next could satisfy him. After the cave, Tony figured the person closest to him when he got back was the answer. The try he applied to his relationship with Pepper wasn’t lacking, they were simply better off as friends.

It smarted a little – how perceptive Peter was. If the reason he didn’t approach Tony was because of his past, he couldn’t begrudge Peter one single bit. The kid was smart and understood that bad habits weren’t to be repeated. Too bad Tony’s history wasn’t anything like the way he currently felt and thought.

----

Walking into the kitchen in the common area of the tower, Tony quirked a brow at the congregation of Steve Rogers, Wanda, Bucky, and Peter – they all looked up at him when they realized he was in the room. Peter’s cheeks colored, his eyes drifting down to the hands knit together in front of him. The rest of the adults at the table were looking at him with looks of curiosity and interest – Tony almost certain he could feel Wanda picking around in his brain, or something.

“Tony!” Peter exclaimed, one of his hands moving quickly to cover his mouth. It would have been comical if Tony didn’t know the kid so well. Peter didn’t do so well with lying or bending the truth – his face and expressive eyes gave him away. Staring at him now, Tony wondered what kind of snake pit he walked into. He gave the group a swift nod but didn’t stop to join them – he didn’t need spider senses to understand the prickly sensation on the back of his neck.

He was quick to get the hell out of dodge, a water bottle in his hand – the thought of making a sandwich quickly abandoned when all of the eyes in the room followed his every movement. Settling onto the couch, Tony put a random Netflix show on and turned up the volume – his ears ringing from the overdrive of his thoughts. Whatever they were talking about, he suspected it might have something to do with him.

It didn’t stay a mystery long. Tony saw Steve approaching him from the laid-back position he let himself curl into on the couch. Queer Eye sucked him in, so he let his brain check out, his body relaxing with the rest of him. The second he saw Steve, though, he sat up – the prickly sensation returning to his skin. He felt like he might throw up all over his fancy shoes, the thought that maybe throwing up would be a little less painful than whatever Steve might have to say crossed his mind.

“So – “ Steve started, his arms folding across his chest as he settled into the empty part of the couch. “I had a surprising conversation with Peter. Or well, he asked some surprising questions. Are things okay between the two of you?” Steve’s voice sounded a little patronizing – the big brother act something Tony could never get behind. At least he was here talking to him, though – it didn’t seem right to begrudge him that.

“What are you talking about, Rogers? I don’t know what kind of questions he asked you to know what you’re referring to. The last time I saw Peter, he was smiling over a beaker of web fluid.” Tony pressed himself against the side of the couch, the softness of it aggravating. In that moment, he wanted weight – something to ground him to this weird conversation.

In another life, Tony would’ve appreciated the tilt of Steve’s head, the curious look in his eye not the worst thing to look at. He knew what it was like to take on Bucky, though – he’d never win that fight alone. Shaking his head of the thought, he focused on Steve and the words it seemed he was trying to find. “He was asking about pleasuring himself. We all assumed you two were good in that department.”

Tony sucked in a breath, his eye bulging. “Pleasuring himself – what? Steve, we’re not together.” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth, like they were trying their hardest to cling to the surface of his tongue and not be spoken; speaking them made it true. Running a hand through his hair, Tony wished that the couch would open up and swallow him whole.

The emotions that swarmed around him made it hard to pay attention to anything else Steve said – his head nodding, but his brain not really processing anything. All he could think about was the fact that Peter went to Steve Rogers of all people to ask about the most personal of matters. Tony was good enough for everything except carnality – what a joy that was to learn. Without much thought, Tony got up, not really giving two shits about the still talking Steve gaping at him from the couch.

He took refuge in the lab – the sight and smell of familiar things enough to calm him down slightly. “FRIDAY, play some classic rock, will you? KISS, maybe.” Tony said absentmindedly – music would drown out the bottomless pit of things that only made him angry. His understanding of how irrational it was to be as angry and jealous and upset about something that wasn’t even his business made it all a little worse.

A whoosh of the door opening a little while later brought Tony out of the trance that he blissfully slipped into. Not thinking was a lot better than the war of emotions that threatened to consume him. His eyes caught Peter’s, his exterior softening for a second – his presence was soothing, even now.

Remembering Steve’s mistake and the weird feeling of betrayal, Tony lowered his eyes quickly – it would take ignoring the soft look in Peter’s eye to keep firm to his resolve to be mad.

“Tony – I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Peter approached him like one would a wounded animal, slowly and with caution. He wondered if Steve was supposed to tell Tony about Peter’s questions – if he was betraying the kid’s trust to set the record straight. His blood felt like it was boiling – the direction of his thoughts not very productive in deactivating the bomb that was ticking down, each second a little closer to explosion.

He felt himself huff out a sarcastic laugh, his emotions getting the best of him. “Well, you found me. Now what?” Tony’s voice was harder than he ever wanted to use towards Peter – the pitch of it sending a shiver of shame down his spine. The subtle change in the room wasn’t missed – so he let the feeling take hold; what did he really have to lose?

“What? Tony, I – “ Peter spluttered, words not coming despite his demand for them.

“You what? You’ve told me your entire life story, every little intimate detail, but you seek out Steve Rogers for sex advice? I don’t get you, Peter – a little piece of me is licking a wound. It kind of feels a little like betrayal.” Tony inwardly cringed, his own desperation so very evident. The dam inside of him was broken – there seemed to really be no going back. “I’m good enough for everything but this?”

Peter’s face fell, his usually bright eyes clouded over by confusion that was swiftly mixing with hurt – it pained Tony on a molecular level, seeing that gorgeous face anything but radiant with happiness. “Steve’s such an asshole,” Peter muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Tony wanted to pick Peter’s head up and rub his cheeks until the red hue and shine came back to his face.

“I didn’t come to you because you’re the one driving me crazy – I’ve been so on edge around you and I can’t – there hasn’t been any relief. I thought I’d ask people who are just as souped up as me about it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me,” Peter admitted quietly, his eyes peeking up to gauge the look on Tony’s face.

Shaking his head, Tony cursed himself for not being the stonewalled person he made himself out to be. The cracks in his armor were ones he couldn’t buff out – no matter how hard he tried. Words he longed to hear sat on his skin, his body trying to decide how to process the stimulus of actually getting the thing he wanted the most.

The few steps it took to close the gap between them felt like miles – Tony couldn’t get his hands on Peter fast enough. “I’m driving you crazy?” Tony mumbled; his hands grabbing Peter’s hips. “You walk into the room and I’m completely lost. I’ve thought about bending you over every one of these tables – kissing you breathless against the damn fridge you lean into and search for food that isn’t there.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck, his enhanced strength pulling Tony against him before he knew what happened. There wasn’t any space left between them, their noses brushing with every hitch of breath either man took. “You’re my best friend, Pete – I haven’t wanted to fuck that up.”

Their lips touched then, both of them leaning in to close the distance. Tony’s fingers clenched, the hold on Peter’s hips tightening. The t-shirt Peter was wearing rode up a little, a bare stripe of skin available for his fingers to touch. At first brush, the body against him squirmed, Peter pulling away to let out a soft gasp. “Fuck!” Peter grunted out, his eyes clenching closed.

Tony watched Peter’s reaction, a rush of heat collecting in the boiling pit of his stomach – his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. He’d thought a lot about what Peter would look like in the throes of passion – the sight was exponentially better than anything his brain could dream up. The flush on his cheeks made them seem fuller, the globe of them looking tasty enough to pull into his mouth. Glazed eyes and a hanging jaw had Tony moving – his lips desperate to be pressed against Peter’s once again.

“We should move this elsewhere,” Peter babbled against Tony’s lips, his fingers fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin, Tony.” His hands were uselessly tugging at the buttons, the fabric of it starting to tear with the force of his grip.

Groaning, Tony forced himself to take a couple of steps out of Peter’s grip completely. It would take too many brain cells to get to the elevator and up to the floor his rooms were on if he were still anyway attached to Peter – his hands achy to touch, to finally feel the thrum of Peter’s heartbeat pulsing in his veins.

“After you,” Tony mumbled, his chest heaving as he watched Peter walk in front of him, the articulation of his step hitched a bit from the stiffness in his pants. His steps were quick and the view from behind was nice – a good enough distraction to get him from the lab, into the elevator, and then down the hall where he grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him along.

The slamming of the door in his bedroom was more satisfying than he figured something small like that had the right to be. Peter’s breath hitched when Tony’s eager fingers slipped under the edge of the soft t-shirt covering the long limbs he’d been thinking about for months. It got caught on Peter’s ear as Tony pulled it off, both of them laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Peter admitted, pupils blown wide.

Tony grinned, the tips of his fingers trailing down the hard planes of Peter’s sides – “It’s real – I’m real,” Tony answered, his hand grabbing Peter’s and placing it over the hardness trying to escape the confines of his jeans. “That’s for you.” He let a chuckle slip, the reaction of Peter’s hand tightening on his crotch surprising him.

They made quick work of clothes after that, Tony kissing him breathless between the unbuttoning of his shirt buttons and the fumbling it took to get shoes, pants, and briefs off. Peter ended up in the middle of the bed, Tony settled between his spread legs. “Touch yourself. Steve may be enhanced, but I know what it’s like to feel good,” Tony’s voice dropped, his eyes wandering over every single inch of Peter stretched out below him.

Peter didn’t wait to do what he said, long fingers wrapping around a thick erection before Tony even finished speaking. His grip was tight, Tony taking stock in the way he slid his hand from the head to the base, and the flick of his wrist on the upstroke. Dark eyelashes flickered, the edges of them just barely moving along the edge of Peter’s cheek.

Without saying anything, Tony let the fingers of his right-hand trail along the inside of Peter’s thighs. He kept the touch light, the skin pebbling with his caress. “The best part of what you’re doing is the build-up. It starts with the littlest itch. You grasp on and try to itch, but the pressure you’re using isn’t enough,” Tony flattened his hand, his palm running down the front of Peter’s balls. They were slightly hairy and drawn up – the sheen of sweat on Peter’s skin telling him just how much Peter seemed to be enjoying the tease.

Gripping both of Peter’s balls in his hand, Tony gave a tug and rolled them between his fingers. “So, you grip a little harder and move your hand a little faster – it’s the sweet combination of pleasure-pain, the relief of almost curing the itch and the slightest dig of your fingernails into your skin.” Tony let his left-hand wrap around his own length, the tip completely drenched in precum.

Tony slipped his hand from Peter’s balls down his perineum and in between his cheeks, his finger tracing around the tight rim of his asshole. Peter’s hand was moving quickly over himself, his eyes wide as he tried to stave off an orgasm and catch every move of Tony’s hand that he could. “You should cum, Pete. Finally scratch that itch.” Tony’s finger pressed ever so slightly against the rim as he spoke, the tip barely slipping inside. “Cum, Pete.”

The clench of Peter’s muscles was almost enough to pull Tony over the edge with him – Peter’s hand was flying over his length, the start of his orgasm splashing against the bottom of his stomach, then pooling between the ab and pec complex up towards his chest. Tony’s name dripped from his lips, Peter’s free hand fumbling around until he grasped bare skin.

It took a couple more strokes for Tony to follow him over the edge, the sight of Peter’s cum coating his own stomach and the blissed-out expression on his face more than enough to fuel Tony’s fire for a long time to come.

Without much thought, Tony collapsed on Peter’s chest, their legs tangling. He didn’t care about the cum that smeared against his skin when he moved in to press a kiss to already swollen lips – Tony hoped to spend many days covered in Peter’s cum and sweat. Now that the dam was broken, there’d be no holding back the feelings he tried his best to keep under control.

Peter’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Tony feeling the boy’s sigh from his position against his chest. His skin was warm and slick – the softness of it a contrast that made Tony want to hunker down and be surrounded by it forever.

#starker #ironspider #bobbie writes #prompts #starkerscoop

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twiistedgalaxies · 3 years

Text

Genesis: Chapter 8: Holly Jolly Christmas

How two brothers can take two opposite paths. How a man can be made into a monster and how the other must pay the ultimate price to save everything he knows and loves.

Or, alternatively:

The origins of All for One and One for All.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Tomura woke to the excited chatter of his peers. He sat up in his bed with a groggy groan, squinting against the morning light. One of the meta-human kids he’d befriended, Emrik, was gesturing emphatically with his gleaming, metallic hands.

“Buuh?” Tomura said intelligently, not awake enough to process what he was saying. A large hand ruffled his long hair.

“It’s Christmas, goober,” he heard his brother say, smile in the teen’s voice.

At this, Tomura felt a jolt of excitement rush through him. He bounded out of bed, only to regret it a few seconds later when his joints screamed in protest. Luckily, Hisashi reached out to steady him before he could fall backwards onto the unforgiving steel-framed bed.

“We’re all out in the mess hall having breakfast!” Emrik chattered, “If you hurry up, you might be able to get some sausage rolls from the cook before they’re all gone.” The boy grabbed his arm and began dragging him out to eat, despite Tomura’s squawks of protest. Hisashi just looked on at the situation with amusement. Traitor.

The mess hall was crowded and loud as everyone gossiped about the gaudy Christmas tree that loomed over them at the end of the room. Tomura found himself cringing at the volume, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. His other friends, Jonah and Finn, waved them over after they got their food. Soon, he was wedged between Emrik and another clique on the bench across from the duo. The two were as thick as thieves, and often he and Emrik felt like they were just an accessory to their dynamic.

“So, what do you think you got for Christmas, ‘mura?” Finn asked, features brightening to a light green.

Tomura shrugged, “I’m not sure, honestly I’ll be amazed if I get anything. It’s not like we have money to spend.” Really, he was shocked he could pull together enough for Hisashi’s present.

Emrik bumped his shoulder into Tomura’s own, “Yeah, but with all the toy donations we got this year, at the very least you’ll have something, even if it’s dumb.”

Jonah’s eyes took on a mischievous glint, “One year, Finn got a hot pink doll house.”

Said preteen turned red and black with indignation, “I thought we agreed not to talk about that!”

“I made no such promise,” Emrik chirped. Finn slumped in his chair with exasperation, turning a light blue.

“There, there,” Jonah said while patting his back with a scaly hand. Finn let out a groan. Tomura smiled at his friends’ theatrics, at the very least it would be nice to have the day off of school and chores to hang out with them.

“What about you guys?” Tomura asked, digging into his eggs and sausage rolls.

“I’m hoping for some lotion,” Jonah replied, mouth full of food, “my scales are getting dry from the cold, it’s really itchy!”

Finn cuffed Jonah on the back of the head, causing the reptilian to shoot him a puzzled look, “Joan pleeease don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s gross.”

Jonah just smirked and chewed with his mouth open in an exaggerated manner. Finn leaned away from him, making disgusted noises. Meanwhile, Emrik and Tomura found themselves laughing at their antics.

“I want a muzzle to make Jonah chew with his mouth shut,” Emrik quipped, dodging a stray piece of scrambled egg launched at his head.

Suddenly, Tomura felt something cold and wet be poured over his head, drenching his clothes in something thin and sticky. Baffled by the sudden rush of freezing cold, he glanced around for the culprit, only to be met with the shark-like eyes of the orphanage bully, and contender for butthead of the year award, Bruce. He flushed bright red at the kids around him (minus his friends) bursting out into laughter at his expense. Tomura had never considered himself to be the type to actively hate other people, but man, if Bruce wasn’t the sole exception to that rule. The thirteen year old, held back a few years to be in their class, was a pudgy, mean-looking - ugh! Tomura had many, many, not nice words to describe him. It was Bruce and his cronies that were disrupting his now friends’ marble game a little over a week ago. In his left hand, Bruce held a now empty pitcher that seemed to have once held orange juice.

Tomura was about ready to deliver a scathing insult (or lunge himself at Bruce, whichever came first), when the matron’s familiar, shrill voice filled the air, “Settle down, settle down children.” Abra waited a moment for them to do so, fiddling with the megaphone in her hands, “As I am sure you are all aware, it is Christmas. You have the day off, yes, but any horseplay or mischief will not be tolerated,” she sent a pointed look towards a bunch of teenagers squeezed together at one of the tables, “Those of you who have chores are still obligated to do them today.” At this, a bunch of people groaned with protest. The matron looked displeased at their response, “That being said, for those of you who have finished eating, feel free to retrieve your presents from under the tree, and do so in an orderly fashion.”

They did not get their presents in an orderly fashion. A tidal wave of children flooded to the end of the room, finally breaking apart into cliques once presents got distributed. Tomura was thankfully able to pick out Hisashi’s familiar mop of white hair from the crowd.

“Hisashi!” he called, and his brother walked towards him, several presents in hand.

“Merry Christmas,” the teen said, and handed him two presents, one from donations and the other from Hisashi.

“Thanks,” Tomura replied, eyes darting around as he looked for an exit, he didn’t want to have their gift exchange somewhere so crowded.

“Why is your hair orange?” Hisashi raised an eyebrow, “And why are you soaking wet?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tomura said, shrugging the questions off, “Let’s just head back into the dorms, okay? I need to change out of this.”

His brother nodded and gestured to him to lead the way.

It seemed that some other people had the same idea they did, because there were a few cliques clustered in the common room and the dorms. Once they got to his bed (where his stuff was), Tomura hastily changed out of his ruined clothes into something warm and dry. Finally, the pair ended up sitting on opposite sides of the stiff bed, presents between them.

“Well?” Hisashi began, “What are you waiting for? Open your gift.”

Tomura carefully ripped open the bright red wrapping paper, labelled as being from Hisashi.

“One of my friends owed me a favor, and he works at a comic book store, so we got you this,” His brother said, a fond look warming his face.

The wrapping paper was torn to reveal a manga, on the cover the title read ‘Ultraman vs. the Demon King, Volume 1’ Tomura looked up, question unspoken.

Hisashi shrugged, “It’s some sort of shonen, apparently it’s really popular in Japan right now, I thought you’d like it.”

Tomura threw his arms around his older brother, touched by the gift. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Hisashi chuckled, “Yeah it’s no problem, squirt, now open your other one. I want to see what the orphanage randomly gave you.”

He released his brother from his death grip and tore open the other present. Tomura grimaced upon seeing what it was. His older brother doubled over laughing.

“It’s not that funny,” Tomura grumbled, feeling his ears heat up.

“You’re right,” Hisashi shot back, “It’s hysterical.”

The randomly assigned present was a princess costume meant for toddlers. Tomura found himself looking up at the ceiling, silently railing against whatever deity was up there. “Maybe one of the younger kids will find it useful,” he sighed, placing the accursed gift to the side for now, “It’s your turn, ‘sashi, I worked really hard to get you your present.” He truly had, running errands for the matron to get spare cash wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

Tomura watched his older brother open his gift with a baited breath. Whether or not he’d like it was hit or miss, it came from an old antique shop, and Tomura had barely enough cash to buy it. Hisashi’s face lit up once he removed the wrapping paper and opened the velvet box within. It was a watch, already calibrated to the current time. “Wow, I..” his brother began, only to cut himself off with a frown, “Where did you get this?”

“I did some tasks for the matron and she gave me some money, combined with some of my savings from before, I was able to go to an old antique shop. I thought you’d like it,” Tomura replied, feeling a familiar buzz of anxiety in his stomach. Had he made the wrong choice?

As if sensing his thoughts, his brother placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “I do like it, thank you.”

“Of course,” Tomura laughed awkwardly, “Though this is your birthday present too, I know it’s coming up soon and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get you anything.”

Hisashi grabbed the other present, the one from the orphanage, “It’s fine, I didn’t even expect a Christmas gift this year to be honest, it’s not like such things come by easily these days.” He opened the gift, and Tomura watched his face fall into something between deadpan and profound irritation.

“What is it?” Tomura asked, leaning over to get a glance. He immediately burst out into laughter, much like his brother had earlier. In Hisashi’s hands was a spiral notebook covered in glitter. On its front was a kitten dangling from a tree branch with a caption that read ‘Hang in there!’.

“As tempting as it is to set this on fire,” Hisashi placed the book next to his watch, “Maybe it’ll be useful later.”

Once Tomura recovered from his laughing fit, he said, wiping a tear from his eye, “Merry Christmas.”

Hisashi smiled, something he seemed to be doing a lot of today, “Merry Christmas.”

-@~*^*~@-

The bus ride up to Beverly Hills was quiet, and given that it was the dead of night, Hisashi wasn’t surprised. The meta-humans were generous in the equipment they gave him. He was clad in black bloc, an earpiece was nestled snugly in his left ear. Inside of his hoodie was a handgun with a silencer attachment, and in his jeans was his ever faithful switchblade alongside a nice set of lockpicks. For once, he wore gloves. A dingy, failing Gamestop was one thing, a high profile target was another. He checked the watch on his wrist, 1pm, Markov and his family should be asleep by now.

The bus screeched to a halt before a dimly lit bus-stop. This would be as close as he could get to the Hills, the rest of the journey would need to be on foot. He disembarked and secured his face mask before making his way down the few blocks between himself and the target’s neighborhood. Christmas at the orphanage had been… interesting to say the least. He spent most of it playing a new board game Rafi had gotten for Christmas. Sorry! It was called, but Hisashi felt no remorse when his opponents faced crushing defeat. He hadn’t been in the hallway when Jose, rather stupidly, used the basketball he had gotten. While doing so, Jose had slammed it at top speed into one of the fluorescent lights, shattering it and nearly taking off the entire ceiling panel in the process. In all honesty, Hisashi was a little impressed, the thrashing Matron Abra gave him must have been legendary.

The gate to the miles-long driveway towards Markov’s mansion was tacky to put it kindly. It was bleach tinted iron and gold-leafed, prominently featuring the pharmaceutical company’s symbol entwined in vines. Hisashi sneered at the sight before devising a way to break in. This would be easier than expected, as Markov had so kindly made the brick wall attached to the gate only shoulder height. Granted, Hisashi was significantly taller than most people, but regardless, all it would take was a few simple footholds to scale the thing. He walked a ways from the front gate (no need to alert any cameras after all) and climbed over it without much fuss. Finger on his earpiece to activate its microphone, he spoke, “I’m in the front yard.”

“Cool,” he heard Amy reply, she sounded bored, “I disabled their security system. Do you need me to go over the floor plan again like a dumbass or are ya good?”

Hisashi scowled, even though she couldn’t see it. Of course he didn’t need a refresher, he practically had the map burned into his eyelids with how much he’d stared at the thing. “I’m fine,” he said, short and to the point.

Amy hummed, “The target and his wife are in the master room, out cold last I checked. Their little imps are also in their rooms. If you don’t make a ton of noise like a one-man circus you should be able to pull this off. If anything comes up on the security cameras I’ll let ya know.”

“Alright,” Hisashi said, and removed his finger from the earpiece, shutting off the microphone.

He crept across their lawn (which was so long it was ridiculous) and paced around the mansion’s perimeter until he saw what must have been the cellar window. It was a small, narrow thing and he found himself mentally cursing both Michael for recommending this route and his past self for not planning for contingencies. He stood there for a moment, trying to think. Above the cellar was the kitchen, he could probably pop open a window and crawl through that way. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a set of sliding glass doors. He had forgotten about the sun room. That would be much better than reliving his many adventures with a narrow window dueling with his lanky stature. Mind made up, he headed towards the sliding door and realized that he lacked anything to pry it open with. Hisashi cursed under his breath, window it is. He nearly jumped out of his skin when vicious growling and barking filled the air.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated under his breath as he backpedaled from the door. Hisashi reached up to his earpiece, “You never said anything about a dog!”

“Eh, I didn’t know they had a mutt,” the brat said, in a tone that made him very much think she had known, “Besides, it’s kenneled, just give it a minute to calm down and you should be able to get in from somewhere else without a problem.”

Hisashi retreated to a group of hedges and waited in its shadows, both for the canine to calm down, and to see if it had woken up the mansion’s occupants. Once everything settled back into peaceful silence (apart from the ringing in his ears), Hisashi snuck towards the kitchen window. All it took was some fenangling with his pocket knife - really, you’d think they’d have better security than this that wasn’t reliant on the internet - and he was able to get it open with a satisfying pop.

He quietly climbed through the window and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The kitchen was large, almost industrial grade, clearly meant to hold some sort of staff. If he remembered the floor plan correctly, there was a sitting room up ahead, and then a set of stairs leading to the second floor to the left. Despite there being three floors, Markov and his family had their rooms on the second. It was likely they didn’t want to bother themselves with climbing an extra set of stairs. Hisashi set out on the route, sneering at the extravagant decor in the sitting room. If nothing else, Markov deserved to be erased from this Earth for poor taste. No one in their right mind needs a giant taxidermied tiger. He winced as the stairs creaked underfoot and paused, heart in his throat. He didn’t need their hound having another fit. Nothing seemed to happen, so he continued forward.

Finally, he reached the master bedroom, and opened the door slowly. Markov and his wife were sound asleep in their bed, cocooned in silk sheets and rose petals. Hisashi felt his nose scrunch up in disgust when he realized they were most likely nude. Briefly, he considered searching the room for anything Matt would find interesting, but decided against it. Surely the head of a prestigious pharmaceutical company wouldn’t be so foolish as to hide something incriminating somewhere easy to access. His gaze made its way to their night stand. The man’s smartphone, however, perhaps that could prove to be promising. Hisashi slinked towards the night stand and made sure the phone was off before pocketing it. There was no need for GPS to track him down after all. The handgun was cold and hard when he pulled it out. He flicked off the safety and pressed it to Markov’s temple. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to kill someone for a favor or for cash. But never had it been someone so… prominent. Hisashi would never admit it out loud, but he was nervous, butterflies raised hell in his stomach like they had the first time he’d done something like this. He pulled the trigger. It was now or never.

“What are you waiting for?!” Amy hissed in his ear.

He released the trigger, and the bed’s sheets were painted in crimson. A sigh of relief. Even the most untouchable in society bled and shat and died like mortal men. Just to be certain there were no witnesses, he turned the barrel of his gun on the wife and ensured her death was clean and quick. Or at least, as much as it could be. (His mother sitting upright in their bed, face frozen in a fearful expression, brain matter covering the headboard like a Rorschach painting-)

Hisashi swallowed and spun on his heel to make his escape. There was no room for remorse, or pity, or reminiscence. All he had was the path forward, and the drive to keep his little brother safe, no matter the price.

A/N: Happy Imbolc/Candlemas to those who celebrate it! May your hearth be warm and blessings bountiful. This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated. Though, granted, I got distracted with another project and that slowed down my writing a lot. In other news, I'm going to be putting out a three part Witcher!Jaskier fanfiction at some point soon (within the week if all goes well), though it won't have a consistent update schedule like Genesis does. As always, feel free to leave a comment, feedback is my heroin.

AO3

Next Chapter

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water-writings · 3 years

Note

1-8 basics, 3, 5, an 9 for personality and fun facts for the oc questions for Marnie? 😘

Hi! Thank you for the ask! Love ya, girl! This was honestly so fun to answer!

Basics

1. What’s their full name?

Marnie Riley Hemmings (I literally just came up with her middle name for this lol)

2. What does their name mean? Why were they named that?

Also had to Google what her name means. Marnie means “from the sea” “sparkling”, or “shining”. Which I guess the sparkling and shining part fits with her powers in a sense. But literally I got her name from Marnie from Halloweentown because I loved that movie as a kid and always loved the name Marnie. So figured name my witch superhero OC after one of my favorite witches haha!

3. Do they have any nicknames?

Just Marn right now. Her superhero name is Harmony

4. How old are they?

Currently 16.

5. When’s their birthday?

I am realizing how much of the small details on Marnie I do not have planned out haha. So I picked September 1st.

6. What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance?

Marnie is a Virgo, Earth sign, and her birthstone is sapphire. Which sapphire fits since her color scheme is blue and I didn’t even plan that haha! Marnie does not believe in zodiacs. I feel since she’s all about books and knowledge she wouldn’t believe in any astrology. But I also wanted to find a zodiac sign that fit her personality just to be ironic.

7. What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities?

Marnie is human. She gains dark magic from a field trip gone wrong so she’s able to use spells. I’m still figuring out the extent of her magic, but so far I feel she’s got the same abilities as Zatanna, but dark magic and speaks Latin rather than speaking backwards. Which I think would fit Marnie better. She has to teach herself Latin which she’d enjoy since she’s a studious kind of person and she carries around a notebook that she fills with the spells she figures out she can use or create. She also uses a staff to help be a conduit for her magic since dark magic can take a toll on the user.

8. What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor?

Oh god, I haven’t played DnD in forever. I had to look this up. Marnie would definitely be a Wizard. Based on the website I found it says that Wizards are “a scholarly magic-user” which fits Marnie’s personality I think.

Personality

3. What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)?

Marnie loves to read. She has a book shelf in her room that’s filled with books. She loves mystery novels. Ones that make her have to think. She also likes fantasy novels. Just fun reads. Her favorite food I haven’t given it much thought, but maybe pretzels? Not sure haha. The book thing I definitely want to use to have her connect with Rocket/Raquel. @oathofoaks recently told me that in the comics Rocket wants to be a writer so she gave me the idea that Raquel and Marnie bond over their love of books. I have this cute idea where Marnie just lights up when she hears this. Like she’s normally a quiet/shy girl, but when she hears Raquel likes to read/write her eyes light up and there’s a huge smile and she kinda just goes off all excited.

5. What kind of things do they dislike/hate?

This one was hard. I haven’t given this much thought, but for sure she hates Math and Science. It’s why Wally helps her out with Science and in turn she helps him with Literature. Maybe she can’t stand sweet tea and it’s either lemonade or a soda if she’s at a restaurant. Or water. She’s definitely about the coffee life so maybe she doesn’t like tea. She’s tried it and not a fan. Which I’m the absolute opposite. I can’t do coffee at all haha! Oh maybe book to movie adaptions. That’d be funny, just to have her complain about what was different and what parts should’ve been.

9. What are they most afraid of?

Herself. Mostly because of her powers. She’s afraid of them. It took her a while to get the hang of them. When she woke up after the accident in Salem she freaks out when her powers start going haywire in the hospital. She can’t control them and things are either catching on fire, breaking, or she floating. She doesn’t know how to make them stop and it keeps her up at night. She’s extremely grateful for Zatanna teaching her how to control them, but she’s terrified they’ll act up again and she’ll hurt someone. Something happens later in the story that I don’t want to say, but basically it draws the line for her and she’s willing to do anything to get rid of her powers after that.

#oc: marnie hemmings #young justice oc #young justice fanfic #young justice #ask me #ask game #ask me about my ocs #oc ask #oc ask game #thank you for the ask #nightwingshero

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years

Link

Rating: T

Chapter Summary: Chat Noir brings up some renovations the base could use. Also, he and Ladybug flirt decide to study together.

Word Count: 2065 | Chapter 2/?

XXX

It was almost funny—in a twisted sort of way—how she could go from fighting for her life to panicking about her grades.

Today’s akuma had struck while she was supposed to be studying for her first physics exam. Even with Rena Rouge and Carapace providing backup, the fight through Lord Labyrinth’s twisting maze had taken three hours.

And, to top it off, she was stranded on the opposite side of the city.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Tikki said, curled up into a ball in her palms. “You’re sure you don’t have even a crumb left?”

She patted her empty pockets. “Nothing.”

Tikki had already eaten her five backup macarons, two emergency protein bars, and even a crepe she’d snagged with the last of her change. She couldn’t afford much more on a university budget. Tikki didn’t always need to recharge after using Lucky Charm anymore, but she also couldn’t go on forever.

“The hideout is closer than your school, right? We could stop there, then I can transform you and get you home.”

“Good idea, Tikki.” Marinette pressed a quick kiss to her head before slipping her into her backpack, which had reappeared once she’d detransformed. The heavy weight of her laptop and notebook pulling on her shoulders only added to her exhaustion.

“There’s a good entrance the next street over…”

Soon enough she was dropping down into the damp sewer. In comic books, didn’t the heroes have cool hideouts? But she couldn’t complain. Chat may have been the one to suggest the location, but she’d agreed that it was the safest bet. At least it would be a place she could rest for a minute.

The secret base was disguised from the outside, thanks to Rena Rouge’s new long-lasting illusion. Marinette could only spot the door by looking for a specific pattern in the wall—four slightly shimmery bricks at about eye level. She still patted the wall in three different places before brushing the secret handle.

“Finally,” she breathed, fumbling for the padlock. Once she pulled it just out of the illusion’s range, she could enter the password. Four letters, one on each dial.

HOME. She’d thought it was too obvious, but Chat Noir had teared up once he’d seen the lock’s default password, and she couldn’t bring herself to change it.

With the lock still in hand, she stepped into the room—

—Only to hear someone yelp and fall off the couch.

“Who is it? Who’s there?” Chat Noir’s voice rang out.

Marinette nearly jumped back and slammed the door. But thankfully, Chat’s hand was covering his eyes.

His ungloved hand. Thankfully, he’d at least had the sense to cover his miraculous with some kind of… hair scrunchie? Oh well, whatever worked.

“Don’t look!” She said redundantly. If he’d gotten a glimpse of her, it was already too late.

“I won’t, I pawmise.”

She took her fake mask from its hook and slipped it over her face. Then she shoved her backpack and shoes into the cabinet labeled LADYBUG, exchanging them for a long green hoodie that was too big to wear in public. Thankfully it was cool down in the sewers, even during the late summer.

The wooden cabinet door hadn’t been the product of a Lucky Charm, and it hung at a lopsided angle when she shut it.

“Alright.” She sighed. “You can look now.”

Chat Noir dropped his arm and stood, his eyes widening beneath the fabric mask as he took her in.

Strangely, she wanted to squirm under his gaze. It wasn’t like she looked that different outside of her suit, and the fake mask would still hide her identity. But Chat’s eyes… the black fabric didn’t change his scleras, and she found herself transfixed by the new shade of spring green. She hadn’t seen him like this since they’d swapped miraculouses while fighting against Reflekta and Reflekdoll.

“What? Hotter than you expected?” He grinned, flexing his arm under his Ladybug-themed hoodie. At least he’d been smart enough to bring an outfit change too.

“Trying to win me over by buying my merch now?” She raised an eyebrow. Pretty eyes or not, he was still Chat Noir. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting flustered.

“No, I’m trying to win you over by being pawsomely charming. This,” he tugged at the hem of his hoodie, “is just because I have taste.”

“I guess I can’t fault you there.” She stepped over to him and straightened the drawstrings hanging from his hood. It was still weird, seeing him in normal clothes, being forced to confront the fact that Chat Noir was a regular university student, just like her. She knew that, of course, but with his over-the-top puns and flirting, it sometimes felt like he belonged in a comic book.

“We need a doorbell. You could’ve seen me before I had the chance to put on my mask.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that sooner. She’d assumed heroes would stop here individually, or arrive transformed. It wasn’t like her to miss such an obvious problem; the stress of classes must be getting to her.

“You could’ve just knocked, you know.” He smirked.

“...I didn’t expect anyone to be here,” she admitted, face heating. “The lock was still on. How did you even get in?”

“I had Plagg put it back on just in case I ended up taking a catnap. But don’t worry about it, bugaboo. We’ll both be more prepared next time.”

His smile hit differently outside of his transformation. Stupidly, she found herself just staring into his eyes again.

“Great, now we’re going to have to watch the lovebirds in person.” Plagg gagged from his spot on the counter. It didn’t stop him from swallowing a wedge of cheese immediately after, though.

“And I’m going to have to smell you in person,” Tikki said, waving her arm in front of her face.

“We’re in a sewer! How much stinkier can it get?”

Marinette laughed. It wasn’t often she got to see Plagg, much less him and Tikki together.

“When it comes to month-old camembert, it can always get stinkier,” Chat said. “Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Marinette didn’t have a very good sense of smell, anyway. That was convenient when your secret base was located in the sewers.

“I think we’ll be fine coming here without our suits as long as everyone knocks first,” Chat said, plopping back down on the couch. “We’ve already got changes of clothes that won’t identify us. Rena and Carapace dropped theirs off when they were adding their improvements yesterday.”

“Improvements?” Marinette raised an eyebrow, not that he could see under her mask.

“I told them it would be okay; I didn’t think you’d mind. Carapace just thought it would be smart to put a Shellter around the Miracle Box. The kwamis can phase through it with their miraculouses, but no one can reach inside to steal them.”

She stepped up to the entertainment center and opened the cabinet with the miracle box. Sure enough, there was a glowing green barrier around the red egg.

“That’s a good idea, but… what if the kwamis don’t know they’re needed? They can’t hear us when they’re inside their magical world.”

Chat’s face fell. It was weird, not seeing his ears and tail droop, but the rest of his body language was still so expressive.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s okay.” She stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder. “It really was a good idea. You didn’t know.”

Master Fu had given her more training on being the Guardian than he had Chat Noir. All the Master said on the matter was that Chat’s schedule wouldn’t allow it.

He nodded. “I’ll have him take it down next time I see him.”

Maybe they could still use Shellter in other ways; she’d have to think about that. If only all four of them could control the shield. That would make an excellent way to protect the base.

“You said Rena made some changes too?”

“Oh, right!” He sprung up again, then vaulted over the back of the couch to reach the kitchen. Apparently he was athletic even without the suit. “She brought some cooking supplies. Also, she was asking if we had any plans to add a bathroom.”

“A bathroom? This isn’t a hotel.” Marinette rubbed her temples. She wasn’t a plumber. She couldn’t just Lucky Charm up a functioning toilet.

Plagg let out a loud burp. “She’s right. Who needs a fancy kitchen or a bathroom when you’ve got a fridge full of cheese?”

Chat glared at him. “Some of us aren’t magical kwamis who never need to pee.”

“That’s what the sewer’s for, isn’t it?”

“Not that kind of sewer!” He smacked his forehead.

Marinette was doing her best not to burst out laughing. Chat Noir might wear the clown suit, but Plagg was the clown suit.

“I’ll see if I can come up with anything,” she assured him. Having a bathroom down here would be nice, though she didn’t know how to pull that off yet. There was a locker room for sanitation employees that they could probably use, but it would be risky, whether they went suited up or not.

This was supposed to be just a simple meeting place. She should’ve known that doing anything with Chat Noir couldn’t be simple.

Maybe we should’ve gone with his first idea of renting an apartment, she thought as she poured herself a glass of milk. It looked like Alya had brought disposable cups along with the griddle, spatulas, and utensils strewn on the counter. She really should try Lucky Charming up some drawers. Or at least break out the dragon miraculous and cut a few more cabinets into the rock.

“So what brings you here, anyway?” Chat asked while lounging against the counter. “Hoping you’d run into a handsome black cat?”

He slicked his hair back in a way he probably thought was suave. Instead he just ended up skewing his mask, and he blinked in surprise. Or maybe winked. It was hard to tell with the fabric covering up one of his eyes.

“Tikki needed a break before heading home. You saw how many Lucky Charms I used today.” She held out her cup, letting Tikki dunk her cookie in it before she took another sip.

“You were amazing. Building a trebuchet out of the pieces it gave you? Genius.”

She punched him lightly. “Flatterer.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true, my lady.” He winked.

Stop that, she told her heart when it picked up its pace. It didn’t listen, especially when he leaned in towards her.

It’s those stupid eyes. Those stupid, gorgeous eyes.

“I still can’t believe you launched my staff at just the right angle to hit the akumatized object over the wall. You wouldn’t happen to be a physics major, would you?”

“A what?” She blinked before his words actually sunk in. Then she nearly dropped her cup of milk on the counter. “Oh no! The physics exam!”

“...So that’s a yes?”

“No.” Her face flopped on the stone counter. Ow. “I’m terrible at physics. I just have to take the intro class, and I was supposed to study for the test today, but then Lord Labyrinth took forever and,” she took a deep breath, “I just really don’t want to.”

She’d never procrastinated in her life. Well, not on purpose, anyway. She just had too much to do to afford it.

“Even superheroes need breaks, you know.” He rubbed her shoulder, his touch gentle without his claws. “But if you do want to study… could I help you? I’ve took a few physics classes last year. They were a-mass-ing.”

“Really?” They didn’t talk much about their school lives—mostly for identity reasons, but also because they usually didn’t have the time. She never would’ve picked him out as a science guy. Theatre, maybe.

“Yeah. You could say I had a lot of potential.”

She groaned. “Oh no. I can’t take cat puns and science puns. If you keep this up, I’ll just take my chances with failing.”

“What? Do you think there’s too much friction between us?”

“Chat.” She glared on principle, even though she had to admit that one was almost funny.

“Alright, alright, I’m done.” He grinned. “Grab your notes and we can get started.”

#tali writes #ladynoir #home base #fic tag #if youre not following me on ao3 #just know that i posted this chapter weeks ago #there are like 5 chapters of this fic out already #i am slow at crossposting to tumblr

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padfootagain · 5 years

Text

The Suit

Here we go with a new cute little thing!! It is the last one-shot for my celebration, for the next two days, I will be updating two series you have voted for. I do hope I have managed throughout these 5 fics to bring a little bit of fluff and softness into your week. In case I had not succeeded so far, maybe this one will do the trick ;)

I have 0 respect for Canon in many fandoms (okay, all fandoms, to some extent) but especially when it comes to the MCU. Everybody lives, everybody is happy, the Avengers live together and the sky is full of rainbows! So… cute things ahead for Steve Rogers :)

I hope you like this, tell me what you thought about it!

Gif not mine (enjoy the eyelashes… argh, why is he like this?)

Word Count : 3941

When people picture the interior of the Avengers headquarters, they imagine some kind of large hangar filled with training rooms. Advanced weaponry on display in some of these rooms too, target practice, and large spaces where the Avengers can train and learn new fighting moves. Some might also imagine the Avengers' personal quarters, a kitchen, a large living room where all can gather and eat some Chinese food, maybe a room where they all can watch a good movie together too, a large bedroom for each of them and offices too were they can work on the intel sent to them.

And to this entire description, although one would gather a vague image instead of a real glimpse at the inside of the most secret building in the world (or at least one of the most secret buildings, for sure, although we must all admit that many labs in Wakanda are even more wrapped in shadows), this person listing the inside of this fortress would be right. At one major detail… or well, three, actually.

This enlightened person would have forgotten the library, for one, large and composed of an eclectic collection of novels, thesis about nuclear physics and comic books, was right between the movie room as the Avengers called it, and the offices.

Also, there is a miniature hospital in the base of the Avengers. They call it the infirmary, but it contains everything needed to heal any kind of wound they could sustain on the battle-field, and some of the most recent pieces of equipment would make even Dr Strange blush out of envy.

But the most important set of rooms that one would have forgotten are the labs. Scattered throughout the buildings, and yet vital for the heroes. Who makes the suits? The weapons? Who collects the intel? Who improves their defensive accessories? Who analyses the clues the Avengers find throughout their missions?

Obviously, the busy team of researchers and engineers working at the base.

And while you could hear the characteristic detonations of Natasha, Bucky, Sam and Clint training at firing, you were yourself stuck with a very hard problem to solve.

On your desk, what was left of Captain America's suit laid splayed so you could examine the damages the explosion had caused. He was okay, thanks to luck, his super-soldier organism and a little bit of patching up. A week after he was back from his mission, he was apparently completely healed already.

His suit, however, was still just as damaged as it was at its return from the field.

You heaved a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes. If one had told you, back at University, that your PhD in chemistry would be put to use to help a bunch of super-heroes, you would have laughed at their faces. And yet…

You heard a knock on the door of your office, but you didn't need to look up to know it was Peter Parker. You had recognized the knock already.

"Hi, Dr. Y/L/N!" He beams at you as he steps into your office and closes the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes at the teenager.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Y/N. I’m not that old! Besides, everyone does."

"Captain Rogers doesn’t."

"Yeah, but that’s because he’s old fashioned on a few things."

Peter grinned.

"You know, Natasha has another theory, and it’s a very different one."

"And what could that theory be?"

"Better let her explain it to you," he eluded the question. "What’s that?" he added, nodding at the pile of burnt and torn fabric on your desk that really didn’t look much like a uniform anymore.

"It’s Captain Rogers’s suit. I’m supposed to make an improved one for him."

"Cool! Your suits are always comfortable and efficient. Do you have any ideas yet?"

"None whatsoever."

"I guess he won’t need a new suit before the party. I hope nothing calls for it, at least. So you have a couple of weeks."

"What party?"

"There’s a big party in a couple of weeks. Everyone working here will be invited, I guess Pepper simply hasn’t sent the invitations yet. You’re gonna come, right? That would be awesome!"

"Well… if we’re all invited, then I guess…"

"Nice!"

You exchanged a smile. Something told Peter, and not his Peter tingles, another sense, a sense that was growing sharper and sharper ever since he and MJ were together, that Steve Rogers would be happy to learn that you would attend the party…

"But I doubt that you were coming here to talk about suits and parties, now, were you?"

His smile was back on his face.

"I have a new idea for my web fluid. But I need your expertise. Can you help?"

You let out a chuckle as you stood up and walked towards the door with a pen and your notebook.

"Of course. Come on, tell me all about it."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

After a few sleepless nights for you and your team, the new suit was finally ready. The tests showed a major improvement in terms of heat responses, you hoped it would protect Captain Rogers efficiently for his next mission.

The advantage of being the head of a scientific team in the Avengers HQ was that you could go to their part of the buildings and give them their new suits, weapons and other gadgets yourself. You had grown quite fond of most of the team along the years too, which made the trip out of your lab particularly enjoyable.

You wandered off from room to room, passing before the fighters training in various methods of combat. You also came across Tony and Peter watching Morgan’s favourite Disney movie with her, and you asked them about the Captain's whereabouts.

"I think he went to the gym with Sam and Bucky," Peter answered, his voice distorted by the handful of popcorn he had shoved in his mouth.

"Because obviously gym is useful to him," Tony added in his usual teasing and yet casual tone over the loud music of Be A Man. "I’ve always thought he was short in muscles."

Meanwhile, Morgan was shouting the lyrics and was now standing on the sofa, mimicking the fighting moves of Mulan.

"BE A MAN!"

"What are you looking for him for, anyway?" Tony went on over the loud singing of his daughter. "You need a coach for the gym?"

You laughed in response.

"No, we’ve finished a new suit for him, so I’m bringing it to him."

"YOU MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER!"

"You guys even do the delivery part for free? Amazon might have reasons to worry."

Peter had now joined the little girl for the rest of the chorus, and he and Morgan were both singing at the top of their lungs.

"WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A GREAT TYPHOON!!"

"Well as I said, he’s at the gym," Tony went on, still focusing on you instead of the two kids by his side. "Lifting heavy things and stuff. He’ll be happy to see you."

"What do you mean?" you asked back with a frown.

"WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF A RAGING FIRE."

Tony merely chuckled and gave you a knowing look. Although you didn’t know what the knowing in the look was about, you oblivious little thing…

"He’s always happy to see you, Y/N."

"MYSTERIOUS AS THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOOOOOOON!!!"

Tony’s gaze finally drifted back towards the two kids on the sofa, a tender smile soothing his features.

"I think she has a chance to become a superstar," he told you, pointing at Morgan. "That’s pure talent we have here. It’s not the same for the other guy over there of course, but everyone can’t be gifted."

"Hey! I don’t sing that badly!" Peter protested from his end of the couch, making both you and Tony laugh.

You thanked Tony for his help, and he waved at you in response, along with giving you a wink that seemed to carry a silent message, but you failed to understand it. Instead, you continued your journey through the HQ (but not without Morgan giving you some popcorn in support for your noble quest first, of course), and walked to the gym with a light trot and humming the tune of Mulan’s songs.

Indeed, you found Steve right where Tony had told you he would be. At the gym. Sam and Bucky were there too, but the three friends seemed on their way out. Sam and Bucky were talking (or well, bickering was a better word to describe any of their interactions, really) near the door while Steve was picking up his stuff…

… and for some reason he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or a T-shirt. Or any piece of fabric whatsoever that would cover his torso, the skin glistening slightly with a thin layer of sweat.

No matter how uncomfortable you felt, you couldn’t help but stare.

The three of them turned to you as the door loudly closed behind you, and you all remained motionless for a moment. And for a short moment, time seemed to stop as the four of you each reacted differently to the scene unfolding around you.

You were standing, frozen, in front of the door, your package still safely in your arms as your lips parted without you noticing, and you wondered about the ratio between his biceps and your thighs…

Bucky and Sam were motionless as well, simply because they were trying not to laugh as they watched the silent scene playing between you and Steve.

Steve was still, stopped mid-movement, holding his towel in one hand and a bag in the other. And his mind was currently wondering how it would feel to touch your cheek…

He was the first to shake himself out of his thoughts, and you were rather grateful for it, as you reckoned that you wouldn’t have been able to break free on your own.

“Dr. Y/L/N. What can we do for you?”

You forced your brain to work again and your stare to leave his torso to rest on his intense blue eyes instead. How could he have such long eyelashes?

"Actually, I… hmm… I’m the one who can do something for you. I’ve finished your suit," you added, handing him the suit although you were unable to cross the room to give him the package. You didn’t trust your legs enough, they felt like they were made of soft cotton instead of bones and muscles.

"Oh, thank you," he gave you a bright smile, throwing his towel on his large shoulder and striding to you.

You reckoned that it was rather rare to see a genuine, bright smile on his features. Little smiles, yes. But large ones? Not so much. You guessed that he was very happy to get a new suit. Or perhaps the source for such happiness blooming in him was the person who brought the suit… but you didn't know that, by then.

He took the suit wrapped in kraft paper, his smile still on his lips. You noticed how flushed he was, you guessed it was because of the gym session he had just finished. You couldn’t know that your assumption was only partly true. There was another reason for him to blush up to the tip of his ears. That reason was standing right before him.

"Are you coming tomorrow night? At the big party?" he softly asked.

"Yes, I am. All the lab was invited, and most of us are coming."

"Have you found your plus one yet?" Sam jumped in the conversation.

"Oh, no. I’m coming alone. I mean, it’s not like I need support, I’m going to see my friends there so… no need to pretend."

Sam gave Steve a pointy look. Which his friend ignored.

"Are you bringing someone?" you inquired in a friendly tone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. He doesn’t though," he added, nodding towards Steve.

You turned to Steve again. He tightened his grip on the suit, and shrugged, a shy smile on his lips.

"As you said, no need to pretend tomorrow."

You stared at each other for a couple of seconds, that seemed to stretch into minutes. And the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how you felt, how you hoped to see him the next evening, how wonderful you thought he was and… Gosh, he had gorgeous eyes…

But you couldn't do that.

"Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Have a nice day," you hurried the words out of your mouth so you could stride out of the room before your reason would yield in favour of your heart, and you would spoil everything.

The second the door had closed behind you, Sam was chuckling.

"You know, it ain't that hard to ask her out. You had the perfect opportunity. You just had to ask ‘Y/N, would you like to come with me to the party tomorrow’."

"Sam…" Steve heaved a heavy sigh.

"He’s too romantic for that. He’ll make a move tomorrow night. In the moonlight and all," Bucky mocked, making Steve roll his eyes.

"I hate both of you."

-------------------------------------

The large room was filled with a crowd. Low lights kept an intimate atmosphere throughout the floor. At the top of the Stark Tower, the view on New York City was stunning, an intricated labyrinth of shining lights matching the paler ones hung on the sky. You felt a little tipsy after drinking a couple of tequila shots with Natasha and Wanda. You reckoned that you needed some air, and stepped outside the busy room decorated with perfect taste. The music was still loud coming through the windowpanes as you walked on the large balcony. You hadn't seen Steve yet, but reckoned it was for the best. People had dressed up for the occasion, and you did not plan on dying of a heart attack because of the sight of him in a tuxedo.

The fresh air cleared your thoughts a little and you took a deep intake of breath. You leaned against the bannister, shivering a little as the breeze brushed your naked arms. You took in the view, the sparkling lights shimmering against the darkness of the night, the busy streets and wandering forms drifting back and forth into the maze spreading below your feet.

"Hey! Y/N! Bring your arse back inside, Thor and Nat are trying to see who holds their liquor best!" you heard one of your colleagues call for you, but you shook your head with a chuckle.

"We all know Nat will win."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You spun on your heels as you recognized Steve's voice. He was standing there, a few steps away from you, his silhouette wrapped in the lights coming out of the busy room giving him a surreal halo, a hand in the pocket of his trousers and a shy smile on his perfectly shaven face. And yes, he was wearing a classic tuxedo. And God, did the man know how to wear a bowtie…

"After all, he is an alien," he went on.

Your colleague had disappeared, you guessed she had judged wiser to leave the two of you alone on the balcony.

How could there be only the two of you out there anyway? Where were people gone to?

"Yes, but she knows too many tricks to lose this kind of bet," you argue.

He let out a chuckle, his eyes flickering to the tip of his black shoes and back up to your gaze, capturing it for good.

"I guess you're right. It's always unwise to underestimate her."

"Exactly."

"Aren't you cold out here?"

"No, I… I needed a little bit of fresh air."

"These parties can be a little too intense," he nodded.

"So can be the tequila."

You both laughed, and fell in a comfortable silence. Steve was too busy staring at you to think of anything else, let alone about words to say.

He hadn't felt that way in what seemed to be an eternity. The nervous tremor through his body, the stumbling of his heart, the freezing of his thoughts… he knew the symptoms and had no doubt about the disease causing them.

Love was an easy thing to spot when it was true, after all.

But if his feelings for you were clear to him, he didn't know about your feelings for him, that was a completely different story. Everyone kept on telling him that you liked him, and he reckoned that he should trust his friends' judgment. The doubt was still there though, a little frozen cube buried in the depth of his heart that burnt through now and then. And it was burning now.

Because as he stared at you, such an accomplished, clever, independent, strong, fierce, graceful woman, he wondered if you could really feel the same way he did.

He had been feeling this way for you for so long though… years, really. And he reckoned now that it was more than time to speak his mind. In the worst case, he would get his heart broken. But in the best case…

"Are you enjoying your evening so far? Would you like something to drink?"

You gave him an amused smile. He seemed nervous…

… maybe your friends were right about him after all.

"I am enjoying my evening so far," you answered. "And no, thank you. I already feel tipsy enough for tonight."

He walked to join you against the bannister, a dreamy smile on both of your faces.

Inside, the music had changed from some energetic pop to a slower and intimate tune. It seemed that time had slowed around the two of you as well, as you stared at each other, your frames lightened by the light inside the tower but also by the stars above and the streets below. Steve's blue eyes reflected the distant lights in an almost impossible way that lit your heart on fire.

There were a thousand things that he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you how he thought about you first thing in the morning and last as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. How you made him feel like he belonged in this world that wasn't his. You were amongst the few people who did not see the old soldier in him, but the man behind the shield. You had never made a snarky remark about his lack of knowledge to a reference, and he was grateful for it. You loved sharing the things you loved and that's what drove you when you showed him things he had missed during his time in the ice. It wasn't in a will to change him and make him fit better into a world he had been pushed into, it was in a desire to show him something you were passionate about, simply because you liked talking about it. It wasn't about changing him, it was about sharing. And the majority of people he had met since he had been awakened did not share that state of mind, but the opposite.

He longed to tell you how much he loved hearing you laugh, and thought you had the most adorable smile, and how he admired your smart mind, and how he respected you and your opinion about everyone else's…

There were a million words to be spoken and a thousand thoughts to articulate, but all that passed his lips when he finally mustered the strength to talk was a mere invitation, although it still sounded like a declaration.

"Would you like to dance, Y/N?"

Your heart skipped a beat or two as he called you by your first name, and dear God, did your name sounded wonderful rolling on his tongue. His hand rose as he offered you his open palm, fingers trembling slightly, blue eyes drenched in reflected lights still capturing your gaze and your entire life too. You were vaguely aware of people inside, and maybe some were staring at the two of you, but you couldn't find a way to care, nor even to check if your assumption was correct. Instead, you could not look away from Steve.

There were so many words you meant to speak and thoughts to express and confessions to free from the safety of your heart. How you adored how kind he was, and selfless. How you respected how driven he was and always right to his beliefs. And an infinity of other tiny things that had made you slowly and yet irrevocably fall in love with him.

Instead, you smiled up at him, and spoke only an answer, that still sounded like a promise.

"I would love to."

You thought he would bring you back inside, but he didn't. Instead, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer in a soft gesture. You slipped your hand in his and he gave your fingers a tender squeeze.

You started to sway with the gentle tune, but could barely acknowledge the movements of your feet. You were so close to him, he was so close to you… how could you survive this?

Calloused fingers held yours in a gentle hold, his other hand resting in the small of your back, drawing you closer and closer in an embrace that grew tighter every second and yet of which you knew you could free yourself of if you wanted. It felt safe. Warm. Peaceful. And safe, yes, so safe, so comfortable, you could lay your life in his hands blindly and wouldn't even worry about it. You couldn't remember when was the last time you felt like this, like this man before you could never make anything to hurt you, like not in a million years would he let anything bad happen to you. It felt like a lifetime ago that you trusted a man so thoroughly as you trusted Steve now.

There was warmth spreading from your body to his, reassuring, soothing. A calming glow oozing from your soul conquering his last lines of defence. He couldn't fight against you. He loved you too much for it. All he could do before you was to lay down his arms and offer you his heart on a plate. It was dangerous, and yet he was not afraid. He trusted you too blindly to worry about what you could do with his most precious offering. You would do with it what you pleased. He would accept it all no matter what. It could either bring him back to life or break him for good, but in any case, he would not regret giving you his heart. He knew so much, at least.

He leaned down, your bodies too close to be moved closer to each other by then, resting his jaw against your temple. He remained quiet and so did you, although your two pounding hearts spoke better than your tongues at this moment.

There were no words needing to be spoken, you both knew that this feeling coursing through your bodies now was the feeling of coming home.

Inside the busy crowd, Sam was finishing his third glass of bourbon, while Bucky drank the last drop of his third beer. They exchanged a glance, and Bucky extended his hand. Sam could only chuckle before reaching for his wallet and slipping a twenty dollar bill in Bucky's hand. He had lost his wager, but learnt an important lesson.

One should never underestimate the sense of romance of Captain America, especially if he is wearing that kind of suit.

*****************************************************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi

@madamrogers

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing

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jasntodds · 5 years

Text

Roses [t.h.]

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, like all the fluff, oral (female and male receiving), smut, some wine

Words: 3,601

Summary: It’s everything red and pink, drenched in hearts and roses, representing a simple and powerful four-letter word.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!!! Here’s a one-shot! Lemme know what you think!!

Masterlist

Your feet ache and legs are sore as you make your way to Tom’s door, one of his bright ideas. While it might be Valentine’s Day, it’s not a true holiday and you were stuck at work, receiving texts from Tom all day, reminding you to come over after work. Tom refused to tell you what he had planned and it truly surprised you that he actually managed to keep it a secret but as you searched for the key to his home in your bag, you were sure you’d open the door to see him basically vibrating from excitement, unable to keep the secret any longer.

The door creaks open and you’re greeted with a dark doorway and a dimmed kitchen to your right. Red, pink, and white heart-shaped balloons can be seen scattered about the kitchen and leading into the living room. Rose petals littered the floor in a messy trail and the scent of roses filled your senses.

“Tom?” You called out as you kicked off your shoes beside his old Nikes. “Where are you?” Your brows furrow as you start to make your way to the kitchen.

Lit candles are neatly scattered about his countertop with a box of chocolates, the lid half open to let you see what’s inside. You pluck a chocolate from the box before moving to one of the chairs against the snack bar, resting your bag in the seat. It’s then that you look up to get a better look at the balloons, all of them inscribed with quotes.

You tug down the string of one balloon and read over the writing in sharpie, the words scribbled in Tom’s handwriting.

“You make me a better man. - As Good As It Gets”

A smile comes to your face, gentle and soft as you let the balloon float back to the ceiling and grab another one.

“To me, you are perfect. - Love Actually”

You brush a hand over the lettering, none of it smearing meaning Tom has had these balloons done and unrushed. Your heart starts to swell as you bring your attention back to the ceiling, holding the red heart in your hands. The entire ceiling is covered in them and they start to lead out of the kitchen, following the trail of rose petals. So, you decide to let the balloon go and pluck balloons from the ceiling as you follow the petals

“It’s like in that moment the whole universe existed just to bring us together. - Serendipity”

“They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. - Big Fish”

“Everything I have ever done, I’ve done for you. - Great Expectations”

“Soulmates. It’s extremely rare, but it exists. It’s sort of like twin souls tuned into each other. – When Dreams May Come”

“I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once in a lifetime love. – The Vow”

You keep pulling balloons down, red, pink, white, whichever color happens to come down and the back of your eyes start to burn. Tears swell behind your eyes as all of your love and adoration for Tom comes to the surface.

“I’ve come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours. – Sense & Sensibility”

“You meet thousands of people and none of them really touch you. And then you meet one person and your life is changed. Forever. – Love & Other Drugs”

“You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don’t know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have. – The Notebook”

“It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, meant we were supposed to be together and I knew it. – Sleepless in Seattle”

Tom must have spent hours on just the balloons. He doesn’t really dislike any type of movie but you know him better than anyone and so far, you’ve found quotes from just romance films and you know those aren’t Tom’s favorites. He’ll watch them on his own or with you but they aren’t ones that are usually his top picks meaning he had to either sit through all of these movies just for this or take the time and look for them online. And then go through the task of writing them all down, neatly, on mylar balloons. This has taken a lot of time and it’s just for you.

“I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you. – Dirty Dancing”

“You were my dream. – Tangled”

"If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just passes you by. – My Bestfriend’s Wedding”

“I’m happiest when I’m being myself, and myself when I’m with you. – What’s Your Number”

“Our love is like the wind. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. – A Walk to Remember”

Tom’s door is in view but you can’t help but keep pulling down balloons. Your heart is erratic and the lump in your throat has tripled in size in just a few minutes. Salty tears have made their way down your cheeks and to your lips, you sniffle and having to wipe your eyes carefully without smudging your makeup. There’s so much effort here and you’re not sure what’s made him do it or what else he’s got planned. You’re just happy that you have him because who else puts this much effort into Valentine’s Day?

“Take love, multiply it by infinity and take it to the depths of forever.. and you still have only a glimpse of how I feel for you. - Meet Joe Black”

"But the you who you are tonight is the same you I was in love with yesterday, the you I'll be in love with tomorrow. - If I Stay”

“Being with you is the only way I could have a full and happy life. You’re the girl of my dreams - 50 First Dates”

Every single quote is about being in love and he’s never said it to you and you've never said it to him. Deep down, you both know you love each other. You’ve been dating almost a year and it’s always just right there. Careful touches, random take out or soup runs when one of you is sick, patience beyond compare with juggling your jobs and mismatched schedules, selflessness in everything the two of you do. It’s there but not out loud. Not yet.

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone. - Lord of the Rings”

“I can do all of these things because you believe in me. Because you give me the strength and the will to get them done - The Amazing Spiderman vol. 2 #50″

“But something in her makes me gentle. Makes me shy. Makes me strong. Makes me happy to be alive. - The Amazing Spiderman #53″

“I have to protect the one thing I can’t live without. That’s you. - Iron Man 3″

“It’s always you. - Avengers Endgame”

You held the pink balloon in your hands and you almost laugh because of course, the last few before you get to his door are Marvel-related but they’re all ones that are important and sweet, ones you know he likes and appreciates. All the other ones are amazing and they all have you crying but these last few, especially the Spider-Man ones, have you sniffling and wanting to scream how much you love Tom from every rooftop of the city. It’s special, more than the others because this is him. This is his thing and he’s choosing to share it with you, showing you that when he reads the comics and he looks at Peter and MJ, he’s reminded of you. And you’re breathless.

You let the balloon graze against your fingertips as it floated to the ceiling before you reached for the handle of Tom’s room. The door opens quietly and you’re met with the sight of Tom, cheeks flushed while he bites his lip and fiddles with his fingers. His eyes are doe-eyed and drenched in nerves as he looks back to you and around the room, as if making sure you liked the sight. The theme of rose petals scattered across the floor continues. Candles are lit all around his room, no lights, just candles and it all smells like a field of roses.

“Hi.” You say through a smile, taking a step in the room.

“Hey.” He says, sucking in a deep breath. “Do...you like it?”

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice is just above a whisper as you stand in front of him. “All this for Valentine’s Day?” You raise a brow and reach out to put your hands on his hips.

Tom shakes his head, his hands meeting your waist. “No.” It’s a chuckle that leaves his lips and you swear his cheeks would be as red as the rose petals if the lighting were better. “We’ve been dating almost a year.” Tom says, a slight quiver to his voice.

“We have been.” You watch him carefully as your heart rate echos through your ears.

“I’ve never told you before but, uh,” A nervous laugh escapes his throat as he shakes his head, a few loose curls moving with the motion. “I love you and I have since we first met. You make me a better person and you make me happy to be alive and I just really love you and I wanna show you how much I love you every day that you’ll let me.” After the initial three words, everything became a ramble in one word, the quiver becoming more evident.

“I love you, too.” You say and you want to start crying again because you know, you’ve always known but to hear it is something otherworldly.

Tom lets out a breath visibly relaxing as he squeezes your hips. “You do?” The quiver is gone as he nearly exclaims the questions, eyes bright.

“Yes,” You widen your eyes, a smirk coming to your lips. “And I wanna show you how much every day that you’ll let me.”

Tom pulls you gently against him and his lips start to graze against yours. “I’d like that.” He whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You deepen the kiss and Tom’s hands glide over your back and come up to cup your face. His thumbs trace over where tears had been falling just minutes prior and his tongue swipes against your lips. You tangle your hands in his hair, gaining an almost inaudible moan from Tom. You detach your lips from his, kissing down his jawline and to his neck, nipping at the skin and brushing your tongue over the mark to soothe his skin. Tom’s heart races as you reach for the hem of his shirt, his arms going up to help you remove the fabric and your lips attach to his collarbone.

You leave a trail of red and purple marks down his chest and stomach, moving to your knees in front of his crotch. Your hands work the button of his jeans and pull them and his boxer briefs down with ease, Tom’s hands coming to the sides of your face, brushing your hair out of the way. His cock is sprung in front of your face and you look up at Tom through your lashes, an easy smile decorating your face before you wrap your lips just around his tip. Tom lets out a gasp, his hands moving to the back of your head to get a better grip on your hair but careful not to push you onto him.

You hum against him, your tongue moving around the tip and the slit, teasing him. It’s taking every muscle in him to not jerk his hips forward and have you deep throat him right then and there. You hum again, the vibrations sending a surge of warmth and ecstasy through Tom’s body.

“Please.” He pleads, looking down at you through hooded eyes.

At a steady pace, you take him completely into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks. You bob your head and bring your hand up to work what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. Tom’s head is thrown back, his grip tight on your hair. Small moans come from him as you look up to him. His lips are pursed and you can see his chest moving with every breath and you can’t ignore the growing heat between your legs as you look at him. You rub your thighs together, bringing your other hand up to play with his balls. Tom lets out a loud moan, his neck craning to look down at you.

“Fuck.” He whispers, his eyes meeting your yours. “Come ‘ere.” Tom mutters, voice rough as he gently pulls you off of him and to your feet.

His lips connect to yours in a heated kiss before he starts stripping you of your clothes. Your shirt goes first and a smirk dances across his face as he catches a glimpse of your red laced bra.

“It’s your favorite.” You state, biting your lip while you wiggle your brows.

“Mmm.” Tom hums as his hands work on pulling your pants off, revealing matching lace underwear. “You’re gorgeous, ya know?” Tom says, looking you over.

“I know.” A confident smile splits your face.

“Good.” Tom’s voice is graveled as his lips come back to yours for one deep and heated kiss.

His lips trail down your jaw to your neck as you did to him and his hand snakes behind your back, undoing the clasp of your bra. Your bra falls to the floor before Tom’s arms wrap around you and move you to the bed, laying you flat on your back. His lips attack your chest, leaving marks below your collarbone before his lips attach to one of your nipples, sucking and swiping his tongue over the bud. You gasp and move your hands to his hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

A coil builds in the pit of your stomach as Tom’s fingers play with your other nipple. Your thighs rub together as your moans grow louder. Tom’s hot breath fans over your breast as he detaches himself to chuckle.

“Growing impatient?” His eyes flicker between yours and where your bodies meet.

“Maybe.” You whisper, biting your lip once more, a taunting smile coming to your lips.

“All you’ve to do is ask.” Tom teases, tweaking your nipple as he moves to his knees and fiddles with the hem of your underwear.

“Take them off and touch me, please.” The words leave your mouth, half a plea and half daring him.

Tom’s face lights up with more lust as he strips the remaining fabric from your body and positions himself between your legs. His lips kiss gently over your thighs before he places a kiss to your clit, deciding not to tease too much. You let out a small gasp and grip the sheets as he licks a stripe up your folds. His tongue dips inside and traces patterns and letters, working you slowly and then quickly, devouring you as if he’s been waiting for this moment all day. Your moans fill his ears, egging him on while his lips move to suck on your clit, inserting a finger and then another into your center.

Your hands go to his hair, tugging as you look down to him, feeling yourself hovering over the edge. “Tommy.” You gasp out through a straggled moan.

He hums and speeds up his movements, encouraging you to come undone. And you do with a string of moans of his name and swears, your legs clenching around his head while your toes curl. Your head spins as Tom slows his movements, helping you ride out your high.

Tom moves over you, his lips meetings yours, allowing you to taste yourself on him. “I love you.” He murmurs, this time with much more confidence than before, no quiver.

“I love you, too.” You murmur back, your hands cupping his cheeks before one of them reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out a condom.

Tom takes it from you and slides on the latex to his throbbing cock. He positions himself and slides in with ease thanks to your first orgasm. He bottoms out and starts a slow and steady rhythm, the two of you enjoying the feeling of each other.

Your hands glide down his back, tracing over the muscle he’s worked too hard to get and his hands are planted on either side of you, arms holding him up. You kiss up his bicep and over his shoulder, before meeting his lips.

Your head falls back onto the pillows as Tom kisses your forehead and his speed increases. One hand at a time, his hands find yours and intertwine your fingers, pulling your arms above your head. His head hangs in the crook of your neck as both of your moans start to get louder and beads of sweat form over your bodies.

Coils build in your stomachs and your hips thrust up to meet his. And soon enough, you’re both falling over the edge of your highs. Strings of ‘i love you’s’ and each other’s name reverberates against the walls until your highs are ridden out fully.

“Tom?” You whisper, catching your breath.

Tom looks at you, your bodies sticking together with a thin layer of sweat. “Hmm?” He hums with a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

Tom could swear his heart soared to the heavens with those three words coming from your mouth first. And he would kill to hear them every day.

“I love you, too.” He says and it’s said with excitement and confidence, even the smallest tinge of disbelief. “But,” He says as he starts moving off of you and starts taking care of the condom. “Stay here and don’t get dressed.”

Your brows furrow as you sit up on your elbows. “Why…?”

“It’s a surprise.” He says, winking at you as he gets up and starts walking off.

“Because the balloons and the rose petals and candles weren’t enough?” You ask, teasing him with his back to you, giving you a nice view.

“Not for you.” Tom states over his shoulder before he leaves the room.

“Aren’t you worried that there could be a serial killer in your house? You’re just walking around naked and they could kill you. Wouldn’t that suck to be killed naked?”

You hear Tom laugh from down the hall before he starts yelling back to you. “No one thinks of that.”

“I did!” You sit all the way up and wrap one of Tom’s blankets around your shoulders.

“You’re weird!” Tom yells back.

“But you love me!”

“I do!” Tom says and all you can hear is him laughing, a sound that makes your heart sing.

But, his laughter is cut off by the sound of running water from the bathroom. It’s loud, thundering and echoing into the bedroom and it doesn’t stop. It just turns into a splashing sound and you pick up on what Tom is doing.

He returns a few minutes later, still naked. “C’mon.” He extends a hand for you and you take it, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom.

Once you get the bathroom, you’re met with a bathtub filled with water and bubbles, candles decorated the counter with more rose petals. A bottle of wine and two wine glasses sit on the edges of the tub, positioned for both of you to have a glass. Tom helps you into the tub, the water the perfect temperature and once you’re comfortable, Tom joins you, sitting opposite you. You grab your wine glass and hold it out for him to pour you a drink. He does so with ease before pouring himself some.

“Was this okay?” Tom asks, taking a sip of the red wine.

“It’s perfect.” You state. “I do wonder what all the rose petals and balloons set you back though, there’s a lot.”

“Too much?” Tom asks with a slight grimace.

You shake your head. “No, it’s all perfect and I’m gonna take pictures of every balloon and gather up every rose petal and…” You pause for a second, watching Tom’s face relax. “Put them in a vase or something.”

“Why?” He asks, one of his hands under the water and rubbing your shin.

“Because you put a lot of thought into this and I wanna remember it.”

Tom’s cheeks tint a shade of pink. “You’re worth it.” He says as he leans forward, the two of you meeting in the middle to share a wine-flavored kiss. “I’ve got movies picked out after this, too and made sure your favorite jumper and joggers of mine are clean for you.” Tom jerks his head to the side, bringing your attention to your favorite clothing of his sitting out, away from the candles with towels and clothing another pair of sweats for him.

“Thank you.” You thank him with a kind voice and soft eyes.

Tom returns the smile before kissing you once more.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x fem!reader

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