#I know I. really shouldn’t have been wearing dirty binders but man
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It’s starting to get sunny and not bitter cold Im so excited to do my hand washed no dryer laundry I couldn’t really do December and January
#PLUSHIES. BINDERS. PILLOWS. GET BLASTED WITH THE CLEAN RAY#I know I. really shouldn’t have been wearing dirty binders but man#mannnnn. I didn’t know how to dry them#clothes horse with a towel under it probably but I feel weird taking up a bunch of space at my parents house to do that#I don’t. I don’t trust someone I’m living with to not just throw it in the dryer trying to be helpful#and I don’t trust my mother specifically to not do that ‘accidentally cause I forgot’ when she finds out hat it is lol#I usually do it when she’s not home cause no one else gives a shit
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Let me treat you (ZemoxTransReader) (Ftm)
Request from Anon: Zemo x Reader where they start to fall in love, but the reader gets hurt super badly in the stomach and Zemo has to like examine the wound. The reader keeps pushing them away bc they’re trans (ftm) and wear a blinder and they’re afraid that Zemo won’t like them anymore
Word count: 2k
Warnings/Tags: Mentions of guns and blood, slight angst, mainly hurt and comfort
Please don't upload this anywhere else
This is being cross posted on my ao3 account under the same name
Authors note: I hope this lives up to your expectations. I’m happy to get requests for one shots as people have such unique ideas like this.
Your back pressed against the wall as you glanced around the corner, waiting for the right moment to shoot. You could see down the road the figure of three men with guns pulled around ready to shoot if you ran past. You had to get them by surprise. Sam, Bucky and Zemo had all split up from you so you were on your own as you tried to work yourself back to them. You clutched the gun in your hands as you counted the moments down.
3...
2...
1...
Your legs moved quickly as you ran across holding the gun and pressing the trigger randomly. Your eyes were focused on the hiding spot ahead. Without stopping to see if you had hit them or not, you disappeared down the next road. Feeling your heart beat heavily against your chest you slowed down, gasping for breath. Your chest hurt from needing to breathe and your binder clung tightly to you, making you gasp for more air. Your hand grasped onto the wall beside you, supporting you as you learnt over to recover.
Footstep sounds rang in your ears, coming from behind you. You quickly spun around, aiming your gun at the person behind you. Your eyes were blurred with tears from your lack of breath but as they focused, you lowered your gun realising it was Bucky who was jogging up to you.
“Are you okay, y/n?” Bucky asked, taking in your worn out appearance.
“Yeah, just” you pant, stopping every few words to breathe, “Catching my breath, that’s all”
Bucky puts his hand on your arm gently pulling you down the road, “Sam and Zemo are ahead of us with the rest of the enemies. They need all the help they can get”
You nod, picking up speed at the thought of Zemo defending off everyone. You weren’t with the Avengers when the civil war had happened, so all you knew about Zemo was from what everyone had told you about. Specifically Bucky, who hated Zemo and with good reason. You pictured him as a man who was psychopathic, with an icy glare and fierce eyes, yet all the time you have spent with him was completely different. Dare you say it he was kind, funny, thoughtful. He gave everyone food, clothes, a place to stay. Yes, it was for his own advantage as well, but you couldn’t help but feel part of it was because he wanted you all to be okay. You enjoyed conversations with him as well, you always had a fondness for learning languages. Zemo indulged your interests. In the spare time you had together, he had taught you Sokovian his mother language. You were picking it up quickly, much to his surprise and Bucky & Sam’s annoyance when you two have your own conversation, which they can’t understand. At the safe home you were staying at, it had a massive library. One night you had asked Zemo to read you a book. Sitting opposite him on an armchair, you closed your eyes as you listened to his sweet Sokovian voice slowly lull you to sleep. The next day you had awoken somehow on the sofa with his coat draped around you. You had been too embarrassed to bring up that evening with him, and it seemed the same way for Zemo who hadn’t mentioned it again after.
You and Bucky jogged around a corner to see Sam and Zemo hiding behind a wall. As you caught up with them, their eyes flicked to you and Bucky. Zemo turns to you and briefly nods. His hair was slightly messy, stands fell over his forehead not in their usual position pulled back by hair gel. His chest heaved slightly as well, and his hand clutched the gun harshly. “Five men, ahead” he mutters
“Nice of you to join us” Sam says sarcastically, his mouth tugging up in a slight smile as he looked at you and Bucky.
Bucky shot him a dirty look while you focused on the five men ahead. They knew Zemo and Sam were there, but they didn’t know about you and Bucky, meaning you could take them by surprise. Bucky counted, making you all ready for the attack. You could feel a sweat bead drip down your forehead in anticipation.
“GO” Bucky shouts as you grab onto the top of the wall, pulling your body over and starting shooting instantaneously.
But then you felt something hit you. On your right side, just under your chest.
A yelp of surprise tore out of your throat, which quickly turned into pain as your body tensed up from the shock. The pain felt immense and spread throughout your body quickly. Your nerves feeling as if they had been lit on fire. Your legs gave out, and you watched as you slowly tumbled down onto the ground, but before you could reach the floor, you felt a body push into the side of you. It pushed you down and covered your exposed side with itself. The smell of cologne overwhelmed you, and you could feel his champaign stained breath on your face. His fur part of his coat tickled your face slightly. Zemo placed his arm beside your face to prop him up just above you as he used his other arm to shoot at the opposition.
With Bucky, Zemo and Sam all shooting at them, all the enemies eventually ran away. Zemo’s head turned to focus on you. His eyes were glazed with worry and his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the blood that was leaking through your shirt. If it was any other time, you would have been blushing like mad. But you were trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes because of the pain. You bit your bottom lip, slightly drawing blood as you stopped yourself from crying out.
“We need to get him back to the house,” Zemo tells Bucky and Sam urgently. He wraps his arm around your back, pulling you up onto your feet. He and Bucky have you wrap your arms around their shoulders and support you as they quickly rush you home. His hand presses on the wound to hold the blood in. You tried to stop him from staining his glove with your blood, but he refuses to listen.
Thankfully, the house wasn’t too far away from where you had been fighting, so you arrived there in no time. They carried you in and laid you on the sofa just inside the door.
“I need you two to rush to the shop and grab some bandages and antiseptic wipes. We don’t have any here” Zemo orders Sam and Bucky. They eyed each other, shocked at Zemo taking innovative for once but they don’t argue back and head towards the door. Bucky glances back as he reaches the door and you nod to him, letting him know you were okay with being left with Zemo. Zemo notices the exchange but just bites his tongue, choosing not to comment on it.
“I need you to take your shirt off,” Zemo says, refusing to meet your eyes as he tugs his gloves off. Your eyes widen and you shake your head at him.
“No, I- I can’t,”
Zemo glances back to you frowning, “What? I need to check the wound y/n and put a bandage on it”
“I-I can do it, or maybe Bucky can,” you say, looking away from Zemo.
You hadn’t told Zemo you were trans. Bucky and Sam knew. They had known you for a long time, but you never really told Zemo and the thought of telling him scared you silly. You didn’t know how he would react. You liked him; you liked him a lot though you shouldn’t, and you didn’t want to ruin it by telling him and him reacting badly.
Zemo’s face hardened as he heard your words, and his eyes dropped from yours. “You don’t trust me” he states
“No Zemo that’s not-” you try to say but Zemo cuts you off,
“No, it’s okay Y/n, I understand. I’m not a good guy, we all know this. Why would you even give me a sliver of your trust? I don’t deserve it.”
“Zemo…”
“I was a fool to think of you any differently”
You tried to sit up to move towards him but you felt a shock wave of pain as you moved your wound making you cry out and collapse back into the sofa. Zemo was instantly by your side, kneeling down, his eyes full of worry. He grabs a hold of your hand and clenches it tightly to help with the pain.
“Don’t move. At least do that for me y/n”
The doors slam open with Sam and Bucky rushing in, “They’ve followed us here. Me and Bucky will keep them away while you treat his wound” Sam says pushing the medical equipment into Zemo’s hands.
“Wait-” Zemo tried to say, letting go of your hand to grab one of them but they had already left the building again.
He glances down at the stuff in his hands, then back up to you.
“Seems like you have little of a choice”
“I can attend to my wound”
Zemo’s jaw tenses and his eyes flash with anger as he looks at you, “Do you really hate me that much?”
“No, that’s not it, Zemo,” you exclaim
“Then why! Why are you so determined to refuse my help y/n,” Zemo says raising his voice
You look away from him in shame, and he stands up, groaning. He brushes his hands through his hair angrily as he paces around. He split off his coat and chucked it angrily onto the chair beside you, making you flinch slightly. You watched him walk around, though you are upset and in pain you couldn’t help focus on how good Zemo looked in that purple turtleneck.
“I like you y/n” he finally says, turning to look at you. Your throat runs dry and your eyes widen in surprise as those words slip out of his mouth and nestle deep in your heart.
“You are intelligent, funny, handsome. Everything you do I adore. Who you are, I adore. And I never thought that I would love someone after my wife, especially a guy. I’ve never felt this way about a guy before and it scares me, but I love you y/n. And I know you don’t like me back but please let me treat your wound, you are bleeding out and I don’t want to see you in pain”
You were left speechless at Zemo’s confession. Your heart swelled and beat rapidly against your chest, but your throat was dry like the Sahara Desert. With the more time gap between where you say anything, Zemo stares to get palier thinking he has fucked up.
“Zemo...you idiot, of course I like you!” you finally exclaim
He moves his mouth wordlessly, looking intently in your eyes as if trying to see if you were lying, but slowly the realisation breaks over him. His mouth turns up in a smile, but then something crosses his eyes and he frowns at you again.
“But then why don’t you want me to help you?”
You take in a deep breath and finally tell him, “Take my shirt off”
He cautiously walks up to, unsure of what to make of the situation. You feel his fingers gently brush against your skin, making you shudder. He slowly lifts the shirt off, careful to make sure it doesn't stick to the wound. As he lifts it off, your binder becomes plain to see.
His mouth opens slightly as he takes it in, then gazes at you in the eyes.
“Oh y/n, I don’t care about that. I like you for who you are”
“Really?” you question still worried.
His lips turn up into a slight smile as he looks down on you, he reaches forward gently brushing his hand against your face. You lean into it, closing your eyes slightly as you enjoy the contact.
“Really”
You grin happily at him, making him smile back as he sees how happy you are. He gathers the bandages and wipes and attends to your wound as you relax, enjoying the feeling of the man you love and loves you back, treats you.
Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @jayxkelsi (Not sure why it won't let me tag you) @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail
#zemo#zemo x reader#baron zemo#zemo x y/n#zemo imagine#zemo x you#tfatws#daniel brühl#marvel#mcu#helmut zemo#i love zemo
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De Aged Deckard: You’re gonna go far, kid - Part 12
Summary: When the Shaw siblings try to break into an Eteon facility, they’re met with some unexpected consequences. Now, it’s up to Owen and Hattie to be the older siblings Deckard never had. Even if they have no idea what they’re doing
Part 11
Victor Shaw was a miserable man.
For years now, he’s been forced to live off the kindness of his brother who had to pay protection money to Victor’s own wife because she was now the head of a criminal empire. One that she had never included Victor in, thus leaving him to deal with his three children by himself. The children he hasn’t seen in several decades in fact because his oldest had shoved a gun in his and told him never to come back.
That had been the day Victor Shaw had truly broken down and become the sad shell of a man that you could find wandering the streets of London.
He barely did anything other than drink and bask in his own misery. Sometimes his nephews would come around and bug him to do join them on a job, but usually that left a bitter taste in Victor’s mouth. It was because he let Deckard start doing jobs with his cousins that he learned how to shoot a gun, and no doubt had killed his first man with them as well. And that was what he led Deckard to pointing one at him and Victor could see the conviction in his eyes. He could still remember back to that day perfectly.
He would never forget the pure rage and determination in Deckard’s eyes.
But what else would he have expected from the boy? His first born would kill or even die before he let his siblings be hurt and that had been exactly what Victor had tried to do. Looking back on it, he regretted just how far he had been willing to go to punish his children, but at the time he never expected for Deckard to fight back. The boy had always done what he asked, followed his instructions down to the letter, and was even scared of disobeying him. However, once Victor dared touch his younger children, all bets were off.
Deckard had been prepared to kill him that day.
Instead, he had spared him, demanding he leave and never come back.
So, Victor did as he was told.
He had left his family behind, never once going back to their family home and had begged his brother to take him in. Luckily, being the head of the local mafia, his brother had connections to keep him hidden from his wife, who didn’t even seem to bother looking for him. Which had only stung marginally. After Deckard had been born, they had barely seen each other except for a few nights of passion when Queenie was actually in town.
After Victor had run, his luck stayed just as shitty as before and he was stuck living with his aging older brother and his family, never once seeing his own. He would get snippets of news about his own children from time to time; Deckard went off to the military, Owen dropped out of college after a year, and Hattie graduated top of her class and went on to get several more degrees. Then, both Owen and Deckard going rogue and joining the criminal world once again. Hell, Victor had even heard about Owen’s huge stunt in London only a few years ago. He wished he could have seen his son in the action.
But, he knew he had given that all up the day he had nearly killed his own children.
Now, he was just a lonely old man sitting on a park bench, smoking a cigarette as he watched dozens of people pass by him, all enjoying their lives and reminding him just how miserable he was.
No wife, no children, and nobody to even care if he died right there and then.
Taking a long drag off his cigarette, Victor leaned his head back and stared up at the sky, letting the smoke escape from his slightly parted lips.
“Da?”
Blinking, Victor slowly brought his head down and stared at the little boy standing just in front of him. The boy had dirty blond hair, was wearing a skirt with leggings and a long sleeve shirt, which made him look absolutely silly in Victor’s opinion, but there was no mistaking who the boy was.
“Deckard?” Victor breathed out.
It wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be!
How could the child version of Deckard be standing in front of him? There was no explanation for what was happening, unless he had accidently picked up one of his nephew’s joints instead of his cigarettes, but he knew that wasn’t the case. No, Deckard was clearly a child and standing in front of him.
“Mum said you were out with Uncle Dimitri.” Deckard told him, a frown marring his young face. His eyes were scanning over Victor rapidly as if he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. “But I wanted to see you before we left.”
“Left?” Victor couldn’t describe just how confused he was. What was going on? Who was Deckard talking about? Why had Queenie told him that? And how was Deckard a child?!
“Yes.” Deckard nodded dutifully. “Oh and Hatts say we can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Sorry.” Deckard’s answer came much quieter and he looked away, shame clear on his face as he admitted that.
“It’s fine, Deckard.” Victor frowned at the little boy. He couldn’t quite remember how Deckard was when he was this small. Was he always so timid?
Looking around, Victor searched around to see if anyone was coming for Deckard, and when he saw nobody, he stood slowly and almost cringed at how much he towered over the boy. He wished his wife hadn’t passed down the late growth spurt gene that seemed to be common in her family. Putting his hand out, Victor felt his family stretching in a way that felt odd. It took him a moment to realize he was smiling.
“Come on, son, how about we go and talk. I’d like to spend some time with you before you leave.”
For his part, Deckard stared up at him as if he had grown a second head before he took his hand. Victor felt the look stab him the heart; he knew exactly why Deckard had sent him that expression: he never showed any physical attention to his children, no matter how much they begged for it. No doubt Deckard didn’t expect him to start now. Straightening up, Victor vowed to do better.
Life had obviously let him have a second chance with his eldest and he didn’t want to squander it. So, as Deckard’s small hand slipped into his, he smiled even more as Deckard squeezed it and smiled up at him. How he wished he hadn’t wasted the first time he could have done this.
“Did you dress yourself?” Victor asked, trying to keep his smile and voice gentler, but could see his words had the opposite effect as Deckard scrunched in on himself.
“Sorry, Da. I know I’m not supposed to wear this stuff.” He mumbled, not daring to look up at him. “Oh said I could.”
Victor’s shoulders sagged as he saw the shame on Deckard’s face. He had almost forgotten how much a bastard he had been back then; he had mocked and ridiculed Deckard for wanting to wear dresses and skirts, but now, Victor couldn’t care less. Not when his own nephew had thrown away his own dresses and skirts for a binder.
Crouching down, Victor got on the same eye level with Deckard before he started speaking.
“Deckard, listen to me.” He looked his son right in the eye as he spoke. “I’m sorry for saying that you couldn’t wear those things. I should have let you wear them if you wanted to. You have my full permission to wear those things, and never ever let me or anyone else tell you that you shouldn’t.”
The little boy stared at him with large eyes as he nodded along. Smiling at his reaction, Victor slowly got to his feet, silently cursing his bad knees, and held his hand out for Deckard’s again. Much more enthusiastically, Deckard took his hand.
“Come on,” Victor looked down at his son. “Let’s go catch up.”
Setting off out of the park, Victor felt himself smiling more than he had in years, possibly his life as he led his now young son through the paths. He had no idea if he was actually dead and hallucinating this whole experience, or if Deckard really was a child again and giving him a second chance. Either way, Victor wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth- not when it came to being with his son again. No, he wanted to spend as much time with Deckard as he could, especially if his siblings were planning on taking him away.
#deckard shaw#owen shaw#hattie shaw#victor shaw#original character#hobbs and shaw#omni writes#de aged fic#a different de aged fic
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The Walls - Chapter 3
[ couldn't write for a while but [ hands you a glimpse into Felix's gay brain ] come and get your juice ]
First || Next || Previous || Last
It took a while after getting upstairs for Felix to grab everything he needed (literally just the clothes he was going to change into, he was just easily distracted), but finally he was in the bathroom.
He didn’t shower in the mansion bathroom very often, since he lived in the cabin on the property, so he was immediately worried about the thing in the walls.
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check.
Slowly, he made his way over to the most uncluttered wall that would have the crawl space attached to it. He knew it wasn’t omniscient, so if it were far enough away, it wouldn’t hear him. Hopefully it would be attached enough to Greta that it would be downstairs.
He paused for a moment, let out a breath, and lightly knocked three times on the wall. Three knocks was a greeting, or a goodbye between them. The thing usually only took a few seconds to respond.
…
Silence. Felix let out a sigh of relief, making his way over to the shower and turning it on. It was an old shower, but comfortable. He really did enjoy any chance he could use it without worry.
After a few seconds of making sure the water was at the right temperature, he started getting undressed. The overalls were off first, followed by the sweater he wore in the colder seasons. And then there was his binder.
He used to struggle a lot more with taking it off when he first started wearing it, but now he pulled it over his head without a fight. He draped it over the sink, away from his dirtied clothes, since he only really washed it when he absolutely needed to.
The water was almost scalding when Felix stepped into it, but that was on purpose. He’d basically shot his nerves when it came to hot water, barely feeling it if it wasn’t hot enough to leave marks on his skin.
He’d been told multiple times to go to therapy because of this. He assumed his nerves were so fucked because of the arson. Who fucking knows, he refused to go to a doctor.
The shower didn’t last very long, Felix just took as long as he needed to get the dirt off him and be done. The longest part was his hair, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d even gotten all the soap out of his hair by the time he stepped out of the shower.
It was while he was drying off his hair that he noticed the change in the room. Next to the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d laid out to change into sat a dark green, and very large, cardigan.
Felix knew for a damn fact that he hadn’t put that there. He didn’t even own cardigans- just an assload of sweaters. So where did this come from? It was too large to belong to Greta, too tattered too.
After a few seconds, it clicked. It belonged to the thing in the walls. The thing that always heard him complaining about the cold, or how it was hard to hide when he wasn’t wearing a binder.
And, it seemed, it finally did something about it.
Theoretically, he enjoyed the gesture. He was definitely going to wear it, the warmth was worth it, but still… this meant that it had come in while he was showering, and he hadn’t heard it. That didn’t imply good things.
He got dressed quickly, pausing before pulling on the cardigan. It was huge on him, even though he was average height and pretty well built. It smelled like wood, and smoke. It was… incredibly comfortable too.
After quickly glancing in the mirror, the green of the cardigan making the green of his eyes really pop. It probably helped that he was extra pale from the blast of hot water, bringing his freckles out as well.
He didn’t look too long. Felix didn’t like his face, and staring at it would make him shut down.
---
Greta had already started on dinner when he made it to the kitchen, and he was pleased to find Brahms sitting at the kitchen table.
“Hey. Sorry if you’ve been waiting long,” he said, rolling up the cardigan sleeves and jumping right into helping. She was making a soup apparently, probably because they didn’t have much at the moment. Malcolm was supposed to deliver some groceries tomorrow.
“Don’t worry about it,” Greta replied, handing him a knife and some vegetables to cut. He didn’t hesitate before getting into it, making quick work of them. “I hope soup is okay. We really need groceries.”
Felix hummed in response, keeping most of his focus on what he was doing. “Soup is always good, I’m just glad we could make something at all.”
Silence fell after that. They weren’t friends, they really didn’t have all that much to talk about. So they worked. At least it made the cooking go faster.
---
“So, where’d this come from?” Greta asked after they were finished and sitting down to eat, gesturing to the cardigan. He was surprised she could tell that it wasn’t his, especially because she knew next to nothing about him. Maybe it was because it was so big, or because of it being a dark colour.
Felix shrugged at the question, not willing to scare her off when Brahms clearly liked her. “It just kind of showed up. I’ve probably had it for years without realizing it. I can be forgetful like that sometimes.” No, he couldn’t. Distractible? Sure. Forgetful? Unfortunately, his memory was near photographic.
But Greta accepted it without question, just like he thought she would. It seemed like she was doing everything she possibly could to not question anything about this house. He vaguely wondered if she had seen Brahms move yet, but he doubted it.
When they were finished, it was Brahms’s bedtime. After making Greta promise she would follow the bedtime rules properly, he let her go to put the doll to bed, cleaning up the kitchen for her.
He heard rustling in the walls as Greta headed upstairs and smiled slightly to himself, knowing that the wall thing was making sure that she followed the rules.
The thought made him pull the cardigan tighter against himself, surprised at his own fondness toward the thing. Six years was a long time to grow attached to something, and he was honestly fine with being attached to it. After all, he never truly interacted with it. It probably wouldn’t hurt him.
Probably.
He shook those thoughts away, finished cleaning, and headed upstairs for bed. Greta’s door was already closed, Brahms was in bed, and the walls were quiet. Felix inspected his temporary bedroom once arriving at it, only laying down when he was satisfied that it was empty.
For once, sleep came easy.
---
The next morning, Felix woke up before Greta, and about an hour before Brahms needed to be woken up. Happy for the chance to get something done without Greta in the way, or needing to look out for Brahms, he wasted no time in getting up and dressed. He laid the cardigan out neatly on his bed for the thing to take back, making sure to close the door when he left the room.
Once downstairs he did some cleaning to take a bit of the workload off of Greta. Before heading out to do his gardening, he paused, glancing around the kitchen. They really needed that grocery delivery today, but he figured he could make breakfast before becoming the garden cryptid again.
So, he made something simple and wouldn’t need to be warm, put it in the fridge, and left a note for Greta. Once satisfied, he grabbed his gloves and headed outside. He’d probably come back in when Malcolm got there, just because there was something he’d need for later that he needed to ask him to grab.
It was time for Brahms to be woken up by the time Felix had started his gardening, a small smile crossing his lips when he looked up at the window and saw the light click on, followed by Greta opening up the curtains.
Well, maybe she was finally taking him seriously. He hoped so. He would sure hate to hate someone like her. She was nice and all, and really the only off thing that she’d done so far was not take care of Brahms right.
How unfortunate that that would change.
Felix happened to walk in during a conversation between Greta and Malcolm, relieved he hadn’t missed the man. He only caught part of the conversation, something about going out tonight. He didn’t hear Greta’s response, so he wasn’t annoyed yet, but it was getting there.
“Hey Malcolm,” he said as he grabbed a bottle of water, taking a sip before continuing, “could you grab something for me next time you go out? Nothing time sensitive or anything, it would just make my life a little easier.
Malcolm, sensing the change in conversation, replied without hesitation. “Sure man, what do you need?”
“A new pair of garden gloves, mine are falling apart. I’d get them myself but I don’t have a car and you know I don’t like leaving the grounds.” Felix was a little surprised when Malcolm nodded and wrote it down, but relieved. He really did need those gloves.
“I can grab ‘em for you today, I’ll be coming back tonight anyway,” Malcolm said as he tucked the small notepad back into his jacket. Felix immediately narrowed his eyes at him, his expression asking the “why” that he didn’t vocalize.
That’s when Greta cleared her throat and stepped in. “Malcolm offered to take me out to see the town tonight, and I accepted,” she explained, cringing at the harsh glare Felix sent her way. Before he could say anything, she continued, “Brahms will already be in bed by the time I leave! So there’s nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about? She was breaking the rules! And it would know!! It was significantly more dangerous than Felix was!!!
He let out a sigh that bordered dangerously on a growl, before running a hand through his short hair and deciding that this was a battle he shouldn’t fight. “Whatever. Don’t say shit to me when something bad happens because you chose to break the rules.”
“Oh, come on man, she shouldn’t be cooped up in here-” Malcolm tried to step in, only to be cut off by Felix’s shears hitting the table hard enough that it shook.
“Don’t try to tell me what should or should not be happening here!” he snapped, the rage bubbling over before he could stop it. It was his fatal flaw- shortest temper in the Shaw family. “All I know is that she’s breaking the damn rules, and we’re all gonna get hell because of it!”
He hated arguing. He did. So, with that, before they could continue, he stormed off. Before he knew it, he had slammed his bedroom door and fallen heavily onto his bed. It took a godly amount of self control to not break anything, but he managed.
This was slowly but surely turning into a fucking nightmare.
#story tag: the walls#romantic: 🎭👁#scrap.ships#s/i: felix shaw#brahms heelshire#self insert#self shipping#self ship fic#scrap.writing#chapter 3
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Yandere! Shouta Aizawa X Quirkless! Izuku Midoriya
I am new to Tumblr, so bare with me please. This is an au, please don’t judge, but I don’t really care if you do, it’s honestly up to you. If a part two is requested I will make it. Just so you know, you shouldn’t admire yandere relationships, you shouldn’t romanticize them either (but yet I am in a way, so don’t do what I’m doing). If you are going through a relationship that is abusive, toxic, or you have on with someone who has yandere tendencies, I suggest you get help before you get too attached. Do not attempt to kidnap anyone or do anything else in this book, except for normal sex,
Warning: Lemon (I guess), definitely not kid friendly, smut, and supper shitty.
Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, Rape, Possible Stockholm Syndrome, and Yandere Tendencies.
Synopsis: Izuku is 22 and quirkless, transgender male. He isn’t fully transgender, he just cut his hair, changed is name, his pronouns, and wears a binder. He somehow catches the eye of the pro hero, Eraserhead (I’ll let you decide how) and gets kidnaped. Yada yada yada (can’t tell you too much ;) ), Izuku may or may not develop Stockholm Syndrome, you’ll have to read to find out.
A mop of forest green hair ran through a dark alley. His breathing was heavy and his felt like they were on fire. He had fifteen feet till he reached a populated street. Now ten. Now five. Now-. A grey material wrapped around the greenette’s arms and legs, a harsh tug at the other end brought the male back to where he started. “Where do you think your going kitty?” The male’s emerald eyes looked behind him to confirm what he already knew. “I thought we talked about running away Izuku.”
A raven haired man was holding Izuku hostage, the males eyes glowed a bright red and his hair was floating. “M-mr. A-a-aizawa.” The bounds around him tightened. “S-shouta. I promise I won’t do it again! Just please don’t hurt her, she has nothing to do with this, I just wanted some fresh air.”
Tears were now streaming down Izuku’s face, Shouta felt a tang of pity for the younger male, but he was too consumed in anger to even think about an agreement the dealt with her. Shouta started to drag Izuku back to his prison. “I promise I won’t run away again if you promise not to hurt her.”
Shouta stopped. He turned around and used his scarf to bring Izuku close to his face. “Oh, Izu. I’ll leave her alone as long as you’re a good kitty and don’t mention her again. That includes during your punishment tonight.” Izuku felt a shudder go do his spine when Shouta said Izu, but fear built up inside him as he thought about what his punishment would be. Shouta leaned in to whisper something into his ear and felt something inside Izuku swell up, but he couldn’t just lay his finger on it.
Aizawa finished dragging Izuku back to his house. As soon as they entered Shouta’s room, he threw Izuku on to his bed and walked over to his dresser. Izuku knew better so he just lied down on the bed still wrapped in the restraints. He closed his eyes as he listened to Aizawa rummage threw his dresser. Izuku could only lay there and pray that his punishment was too bad. Aizawa had stopped digging through his drawer and padded quietly to his ‘prey’. He sat down whatever it was on the bed.
The scarf around Izuku started to retract and he was getting even more nervous by the second. Izuku nearly let out a yelp when his pants were pulled down if it wasn’t for the hand over his mouth. Aizawa’s cold, calloused hands slither down and pulled Izuku’s underwear down. A slight gasp left Izuku’s mouth as Aizawa grabbed his cunt. “Oh, you like that?”
Izuku let out a small whimper and Aizawa stuck his index finger up Izuku’s virginia, reciting a small gasp from the younger male. “Very vocal today, aren’t we? I guess you shouldn’t ran away, but nonetheless, I’ve been waiting for this”. Izuku’s face grew red in shame. He could feel the warmth in his core, and it only got worse as Aizawa moved his finger around inside him. “Look at that, you’re wet already. You’re so slick, you’re a dirty little slut aren’t you? And you’re my slut.”
Aizawa slowly took off Izuku’s shirt while still fingering him. Right before he took off his shirt completely, Aizawa harshly inserted a second finger into Izuku’s core eliciting a moan from the greenette. Aizawa was making scissors as he took off Izuku’s binder. Aizawa’s capture scarf crept up and coiled around Izuku’s wirst. It then wrapped around the bedpost preventing Izuku’s hands from moving.
Aizawa slipped another finger in to Izuku’s hole, receiving another moan from him. While Aizawa was slowly fingering and teasing Izuku, he was fumbling with some sort of metal. He connected two different metal objects to the lower bedpost and closed each one around Izuku’s ankles. The cuffs forced him to keep his legs spread and it was impossible to close them until the cuff were removed or the chains were broken. The chain needed a different key to unlock them and if the chains were broken, they would inject a sedative into it’s victims so they wouldn’t get far.
Izuku knew this because he had somehow broken a chain and had only gotten ten feet before he started to feel dizzy. Yet, right now, there wasn’t any fear in him, only the urge for Aizawa to go faster, the slowness was driving him crazy. Aizawa, almost as if he read Izuku’s thoughts, picked up speed a little while messing with his belt and pants. He pulled them down slowly and started to kiss Izuku near kis core which still had three moving fingers in it.
Izuku let out a moan before quickly clamping his mouth shut. “Ah, Kitty, don’t be selfish. I want to hear you sing.” Aizawa removed his fingers and a disappointed look came across Izuku’s face. He felt so good with Aizawa in him and he couldn’t understand why, he hated himself for it. Aizawa took his shirt off at an agonizingly slow speed that made Izuku whimper, but the poor boy could figure it out. Before he could think about it anymore, Aizawa dropped his boxers and Izuku gaped at his length for hundredth time. Aizawa wasn’t really long, but he was wide.
Before Izuku could protest, Aizawa’s warm breath skimmed over his heat an Izuku had a sharp intake of breath. Aizawa let a small smile creep onto his lips. Aizawa stuck his tongue into Izuku’s hole and teased him a little before he did laps around Izuku’s cunt. Gasps and moans could be hear from Izuku as Aizawa worked his magic. After a few more laps, Aizawa cleaned Izuku’s hole of any and all liquids, while in the process, teasing it so it would release a white and gooey substance on his tongue. Soon enough it did, and as cum poured out of Izuku’s hole, Aizawa’s tongue was lapping up every last drop. while Aizawa was ‘feasting on Izuku’s pussy, said male was screaming and moaning Aizawa’s name.
Because of that, Aizawa went beyond what he usually does for a punishment. He let Izuku’s high die down some, but not too much before he lined up his cock with Izuku’s core. Fear was prominent in the younger male’s eyes when he realized that Aizawa was going to fuck him, and that he was going to get fucked without protection. yet again, before Izuku could think about it, Aizawa was already on the next step. Aizawa lined up with Izuku’s entrance and pushed in. Izuku let out a pained gasp, but his slick entrance clutched Aizawa’s dick as if it was his life line. Aizawa started to slowly thrust, but it quickly escalated it Aizawa full blown ramming into Izuku. They screamed each others names when then came and were riding off their organism. Aizawa was exhausted, but he wasn’t done yet.
He crawled up to Izuku’s head and put Izuku’s wrist into the cuff connected to those bedposts. Aizawa threw his scarf on to his nightstand and waited until Izuku opened his mouth. When he did, Aizawa stuck his cock in it and Izuku let out a moan of delight. Izuku sucked on Aizawa’s cock until it was swollen and a bright red.
Aizawa then decided that the ‘punishment’ that Izuku had was a joke. He decided that he would break Izuku legs in the morning, but it was still night and he could have as much fun with Izuku as he wanted. He walked over to his drawer and pulled out a viberator that entered both holes. He inserted the viberator and grabbed his knife from his nightstand. “Shouta?”
“Yes, Kitty?”
“I love you.”
Aizawa got back on the bed and turned the sex toy, he slowly started to drag his knife across old scars and spell his name, he even caved a few new hearts into Izuku’s skin. “I love you too.” Izuku just yelled and moaned Shouta’s name the whole time. “One more thing, call me daddy if you really love me.”
“DADDY~!”
Aizawa swore that it would have woken up the whole neighborhood if his house wasn’t soundproof. After Aizawa was done cutting Izuku’s skin, he asleep to the sounds of Izuku’s moans and screams because he left the viborator in him. Right before Aizawa went to bed, he turned the toy up to high. Izuku slept after his thrashing woke up Aizawa, let’s just say, for putting on a good show, Izuku was allowed to sleep all day the next day.
#ShoutaAizawa#izuku midoriya#aideku#eraserdeku#quirkless midoriya izuku#Bnha#MHA#Yandere#Aizawa#Shouta#Izuku#Midoriya#Deku#Quirkless#Woobie#Dark#Angst#trans deku#lemon#Adult Izuku#Au#Fanfic#Smut
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Part one
The first call.
Word count:2k+
Pairing:Y/N x Feitan
Warnings:Swearing, mentions of death.
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Y/N sat in her chair, silently leaning against the back of it. She stared blankly at the monitor before her, her mind utterly blank. Her father, her partner in crime, was out at the time and training didn't sound too pleasing at the moment. And, dispite having the surface, deep, and dark web all at her disposal, things got rather boring quickly. The same old drama, government files, and red rooms just weren't appealing anymore.
So, she sat there, staring at her setup. "Wonder what dad is picking up at the store." She thought, scanning her desk for a moment before grabbing her water bottle and twisting the cap off. "Our next client better be interesting at the very least." She hoped. She brought the plastic to her lips, taking a swig of water. When her and her father got a client, she was in charge of planning, and she wasn't always planning the same thing.
On occasion they were hired to be a bodyguard, occasionally an assassin. The jobs varied, there were some that they just wouldn't take and others that they were more than happy to do. Y/N was in charge of finding out the details, helping her father understand what was to be done, and she was the one to come up with what would be done. Of course, if they ever worked for a celebrity then she would tag along. Just to meet them, maybe get their autograph or a couple of pictures. She was more than capable to handle their business all by herself, though. She was strong and smart, talented in what she did.
Her father, however, wasn't able to work by himself. He needed an idea of how things were going to happen, it was just who he was. The more detailed the plan, the calmer he was and without any idea at all, he panicked. He was really the only one she had, so she stuck with him. She worked to keep things in check, and he reeled in clients and handled most of the dirty work.
These were the thoughts that crossed her mind as she zoned out, snapping out of her trance only when she heard the door open. "Speak of the devil!" Y/N shouted, even though she hadn't been actually speaking.
"We have a client!" He boomed, clearly happy.
She grabbed the arms of her chair, standing up to help him put away whatever he had gotten. "Really? Who is it?" She asked, curious as she walked out of her room.
"Come here, I wanna see your reaction." She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that he knew she was on the way. Nevertheless, she picked up the pace until she was in the kitchen.
She walked over, grabbing one of the bags that he set on the counter, digging through it and grabbing a loaf of bread out of it. Her curiosity was now peaked, she saw her father smiling wildly out of the corner of her eye, he was just staring at her. "Well?" She asked, turning her head to look at him better.
He was silent for a moment, it was clear that he was ecstatic, almost bouncing off the walls. "The Spiders." He said, there was a pause, but then she laughed.
"You really shouldn't mess with me like that." She giggled. The Phantom Troupe needing their services? What a crazy idea.
"I'm not fucking with you, they want our help taking out some bodyguards." He explained. She had never seen him this happy.
"You're serious?" She asked, he nodded. "The Troupe." She murmured, trying to take it in. "The Troupe." She said louder, finally getting grasp of the situation. "We're working with the fucking Phantom Troupe!" She screamed, immediately dropping the bread and wrapping her arms around her fathers neck, nearly crying with joy.
He spun her around, as if she were still a little girl and not an adult serial killer. They were excited for two different reasons, Y/N had always admired the Phantom Troupe, their witt, strength and ability to get a job done was almost unbelievable. F/N was excited for the opportunity, if they did well, then a group as well known as the Phantom Troupe recommending them was good for getting business. Dispite their different reason for being happy, they still spun in the kitchen.
He eventually bumped into the counter, however, causing them to stop. They let go of eachother, both of their faces still as happy as ever. "I told the man I talked to to email you, it was about a hour ago. As if on cue, one of her monitors let out a noise that signaled she had a notification.
"And your sure it's them?" She asked, just wanting one last assuring word so she didn't get her hopes up for nothing.
"You know I have my ways of making sure people are the real deal, now go answer him, he said that we'll move out in three weeks so make a good impression!" He said, turning around and continuing to unload groceries.
She turned as well, heading towards her bedroom. She had been with dozens of clients, each and everyone leaving some sort of impression. Very few flirted with her, which she didn't find surprising. This was a professional job, and they didn't offer those kinds of services, although many had asked. An unpleasant thought then popped into her head. "What if the one I talk to is a pervert?"
What if he flirted, would she flirt back? No, she was professional, and while connections did mean alot, almost everything. She wouldn't go as low as to going out with someone just for work. That's something she told herself after she reached eighteen, she didn't care who it was, she wouldn't do that just for work.
So, if he was a pervert, she was fully prepared to ignore it. As she entered her room, the notification was on the screen still. So, she sat down and clicked on it. Her thoughts had ruined the mood she was in, almost instantly.
Blue apple. Hot pink watermelon
This was the message that her father told whoever was on the other end to send, it confirmed that she was talking to the same person and not just a random person who thought it would be funny to email her. With each client came a different secret message, they were all random and some were rushed, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that these helped.
Keep your fruit! For I have a lock of hair!
Be careful, for I only offer you one strand.
Y/N sent this message, followed by a link that would send him to her website, where he would have to enter yet another secret code that her father gave him. It didn't matter if he changed his account, the website wouldn't pop up anymore if he got it wrong he only had one chance. So, if he wanted to try again, he would have to go out and get an entirely different device.
On the same note, if he got it right, then as long as he stayed on whatever device he was using, he wouldn't have to enter the code ever again. She clicked on the link, her screen immediately changed. The website had a dark theme, it was simply easier on her eyes when she had to work late at night. She kept her eyes on the welcome back message, reading it even though she already knew what it said. There wasn't alot on her mind, now that her one main worry had taken over her mood, she thought of this as another job. Until she had talked to the man, just to make sure he wouldn't hit on her or anything of that nature, she decided to stay calm.
Y/N put on her headset, crossing her legs while in the chair.
She made sure that it was plugged in, adjusting the mic so that it was in front of her mouth. She just waited, staring at the screen for about a minute before a small rectangle popped up at the bottom, informing her that she was getting a call. She moved her mouse, hovering over the accept button for a moment, putting on a welcoming smile before clicking.
There was a few seconds of silence, as she scanned her face on her side of the screen to make sure she was looking half decent.
"Hello," she said, pausing as her gaze drifted over to the other side of the screen. "My names Y/N." She quickly took in his features, black hair that seemed wet. Maybe he just got out of the shower, or it could have been raining where he was. He seemed to be scowling, but she wasn't judging. Most of the time business made her grumpy, too.
"Feitan." He said, his voice sounding a little raspy.
"Nice to meet you, will there be anyone else joining the call?" She asked.
"No. I'll relay all of the information to to the others." He explained, leaning back onto the wall behind him. A dark hoodie and what she could only make out to be sweatpants were his clothing of choice, making her feel a little better about wearing a t-shirt and shorts.
She nodded. "Okay, got it. Would you mind explaining the operation?" She leaned forward, grabbing her binder and opening it, picking up the pen that simply laid inside.
"There's a man, he has some stuff we want. So we're going to go take it. He's said to have some skilled bodyguards. I'm sure we would have been able to handle it but Shalnark heard of you and wanted to see if it was worth what people paid for your work." Such a vague description,
"Mhm, could you give me a idea of where it is?" She ignored the last bit, not really caring why they were hired.
"Somewhere out east. It's called Bog Mansion."
She nodded, quickly jotting down this information. "Okay and now I'm going to need some info on the abilities of everyone whose going to be working with us." She prepared to start writing, but what she was asking for wasn't given to her.
"Why would I tell you that?" He questioned.
"I need to plan, that's the whole point of this call. I'll get and gather information, then I'll come up with a plan so you don't have to." She explained.
He considered it, eventually sighing. "I trust the person who wanted to hire you, but since it was his idea I'll leave it up to him to go kill you if you give our information away."
Y/N wasn't fazed, everything was classified of course, that's why she wrote everything on paper and not electronically. If it was stored electronically, you can never tell who has a hold of it even if you think it is only visible to you. "Would you like my address? Hell, I'll gladly deliver myself on a silver platter if I sell you out, of course I never will but still."
This caused Feitan to smile for whatever reason. "Okay, how about you tell me your ability as well. Your father already told me his so don't bother."
"Oh, my ability? It's nothing special I call it Satan's Zoo, and I just make animals with my aura. I have a pole that I use for close range fighting but it's in my closet somewhere." She glanced over to the closet in question. "Of course how many animals I make and the size of them both effect each other, but I can also modify animals it's a little difficult but I think I've gotten pretty good at it."
He took this in, being silent for a little bit as if he was thinking of what to say next. After about a minute he spoke up. "Will you be coming with your father with at a job?" He asked.
She was slightly taken back, of all things she expected him to ask this wasn't one of them. "Yes, I'd like to meet in person so I'll be tagging along."
"Then I would like to fight with you before we go to Bog Mansion." Feitan said calmly.
This was definitely unexpected, it left her speechless. A Phantom Toupe member thinking that she might be worth fighting? This was an odd honor.
"Your ability intrigues me." He said, perhaps trying to carry the conversation after seeing her speachless. "I'll try my best not to kill you. But I'd like to see your ability I person while your fighting against me rather than running into you in the mansion." He explained and all of a sudden her excitement returned.
"Really? You think I'm worth fighting?" Y/N asked, still star struck.
"Why do you sound so happy? I could kill you by mistake." He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I've looked up to the Phantom Troupe for a while. The pure strength that all of the members posses is amazing and I strive to be like all of you. Fast, efficient and good at what I do." She was smiling from ear to ear, making no effort to hide her happiness.
Feitan seemed like an okay guy, focused on business from what she had seen so far.
"Your strange." He commented. "I've never met a Phantom Troupe fangirl." He snickered, but she wasn't insulted.
"Well now you have, maybe you should release merchandise I'm sure there are people who would buy it." This caused him to laugh again, and this time Y/N joined him.
"Anyway, back on track." She said. "Go on ahead and start explaining everyone's abilities and such please." She readied her pen, excited to fill up her page full of information about her favorite group of thieves.
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A single page wasn't able to contain all of information. It took at least a full page front and back for each member, sometimes more. With five members the exact number of pages came down to eight pages front and back. Her wrist was used to writing nowadays, but this was the closest it had come to hurting in a while. It was almost overwhelming how much Feitan knew about his teammates. Although, the more she knew the more solid the plan could be but still.
"Well, I have to say Shizuku's ability seems most interesting." She commented, closing the binder. "But I would also like to see your umbrella." She said, sighing as she closed the binder, leaving the pen inside. "I'll do some research and see if I can get a layout of the building and some intel on the bodyga-" while sitting her binder down she removed her eyes from the screen for a split second, and in that split second he was gone.
"Uh, Feitan?" She asked. It was only a moment before he moved back into frame with the umbrella. He sat back down onto the bed, grabbing the handle and actual umbrella before pulling a few inches of the concealed weapon out.
"Wow! That's actually really cool." She said, staring at it for a moment. "Did you just have it laying around?"
He closed it, placing it beside his bed. "Yes, it's best to have a weapon close to you when theres people out for your head."
"Has anyone actually tried to assassinate you?" She asked, wondering who might be stupid enough to try and kill a member of the Troupe.
"A few, unfortunate souls down on their luck. I'm guessing that people have a pretty high bounty on us." He sighed, crossing his arms. "What about you?" He asked.
"Well, people have actually sent some pretty skilled assassins after me. Thankfully, no ones sent in the Zoyldic family yet!" She joked, placing a finger inbetween her two collarbones and starting to trace down. "A man with a sword actually got me right through here." She continued to trace the old scar, moving down until right below her chest, where it curved to the left. "I beat him, of course but he left me with a pretty nasty scar." Her hand returned to her arm rest.
"Now that I I've told you our abilities, what now?" He asked.
She dreaded her next sentence. Talking to him was actually more pleasant than most of her clients, so this would be a little more difficult to let go. "Well, you call me around this time tommorow and until then, I get to work! I'll figure out everything I can and use what knowledge you've given me to make a plan!"
Feitan pursed his lips. "Okay I guess."
"I'll talk to you later, just message me if you have any questions!" She smiled. "Goodbye!"
"Bye." And just like that the call was over.
Y/N grabbed up the binder, opening it up to a new blank page. She needed to impress him, get a good word in with the Troupe and she might be able to work with them again! This was so exciting. So, as her heart pounded in her chest, she got to work on figuring out everything she could about Bog Mansion and the people who lived within it.
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It Looks Better on you
decided to write a little jetkie fic! this fanbase is tiny so i thought “fuck it” and decided to feed myself. please leave feedback/constructive criticism if you would like!
Rookie squinted at his computer screen. Was it always this bright? He couldn’t keep track of a single thought, they came and went as they pleased. He’d been sitting at his desk for far too long.
He stretched his arms up, arching his back out of his wheelie chair. He felt his back crack, relief flooding through him. He knew he slouched way too often with his binder on. I guess I should probably take a break, he thought absentmindedly, lifting up his sunglasses and rubbing at his eyes.
Pushing the chair back, Rookie hopped off and looked around. What to do… Gary was probably too invested in his tinkering to be bothered, Dot wasn’t scheduled to come in today, and Ace was… probably plotting something against Herbert.
His eyes landed on a clean workspace, not a thing out of place. A stack of papers was neatly tucked in the corner, and a large laptop display sat in the middle of the desk. Of course! Jet Pack Guy!
Rookie ambled the short distance between his and his coworker’s desk. It was only then that he took note of the absence of said coworker. He glanced around, wondering where Guy took off to. He reasoned it was likely a coffee break, as his usual mug was gone from the workspace. Rookie knew that he was still here though, because his blazer was hanging off the back of his chair.
Wait- his blazer?
Sure enough, the article of clothing that Guy almost never went anywhere without was draped right in front of Rookie’s eyes. It was odd, seeing it somewhere other than on Guy. Come to think of it, he didn’t think he’d ever seen him without it. He wondered what he would look like. Would his sleeves be rolled up? He hoped so, the dark skin of his arms would go well with the white of his shirt. The thought of that alone made his face heat up. I shouldn’t be thinking about my friend this way!
His body betrayed his mind, hands gingerly reaching out to grasp the black fabric. They lifted the jacket off of the chair and brought it closer to his face, eyes gleaming with wonder. The material was so smooth, surely it wouldn’t hurt to just try it on.
Before he knew it, Rookie’s arms went through the sleeves and he was now donning his best friend’s jacket. He felt giddy, subconsciously smiling at the fact that yes, this was real. He took note of just how small he was compared to Guy; he was practically swimming in his blazer. His fingers barely poked out of the sleeves. Taking advantage of this adrenaline high, he grabbed the lapels of the suit and brought them up to his nose, inhaling the scent. It even smells like him. God could strike him down at this very moment and he wouldn’t have a care in the world.
Unfortunately, his mind finally caught up with him and he dropped the lapels in shock, eyes widening. He really shouldn’t be doing thi-
“Rookie?”
Oh no.
He jolted, recognizing the voice of none other than the owner of the jacket. He kept his back turned, not wanting to face the humiliation of what he had done.
Jet Pack Guy spoke again, “Is that my jacket?”
Rookie winced, his shoulders hunching up. How on earth could he get out of this mess? “Hey JPG! Whoops, must’ve been sleepwalking again and conveniently slipped on your jacket!” He cringed at his inner dialogue. Not even he would fall for that.
Might as well just bite the bullet. He slowly turned around to face Guy, his face heating up as he did. Of course he was still wearing his sunglasses, so Rookie couldn’t see his expression. Is he mad? Upset? Disgusted? Oh god, he might not even want to be my friend anymore!
Panicking, Rookie launched himself into speech. “I am so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking! I just walked up to your desk and thought ‘Oh, what a nice jacket’ but I didn’t mean to actually put it on, I swear! Oh god, I just realized I completely violated your privacy so I completely understand if you hate me or don’t want to be friends anymore or-”
He was interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Rook, hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.” Guy exaggerated breathing in and out, instructing him to do the same. Rookie followed along, albeit with some stuttering breaths. Once he determined his friend was okay, Guy reluctantly pulled his hand back from where it was on Rookie’s shoulder.
The shame of almost breaking down in front of his best friend made tears prick at the corners of his eyes, which were hastily rubbed away with the sleeve of the jacket-
He was still wearing the blazer.
“Damn it, I probably got your suit dirty. I’m really sorry about all this,” He looked anywhere but at Guy’s face, feeling his face flush once again.
“Really, don’t worry about it. I know you’re beating yourself up about this but it’s not a big deal to me. Thank you for apologizing, though.” He reassured him, the corner of his mouth tilting slightly upwards.
Cute, Rookie’s brain supplied, squashing the thought immediately afterwards.
“I guess I should probably give this back to you,” he gestured to the suit, smiling sheepishly.
He saw Guy’s eyebrows raise for a split second before interjecting, “Uh, it’s fine. You can keep it.” Now that he was closer, Rookie could see his eyes widen behind his shades. He quickly covered his mouth, as if he just realized what he said.
Rookie blinked a couple times in shock. There was no way he heard that right. “Wh- I- are you serious?” He looked up at his friend, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. Oh my god, is he blushing?
“I mean, uh, yeah, I have quite a few spares.” He replied, his hand going to rub the back of his neck.
Rookie’s mouth opened slightly, not believing what he was hearing. His shocked expression quickly turned into a large grin, and in not being able to contain his glee, let out an incomprehensible noise. His coworker let out a brief chuckle upon hearing it, eyes slightly crinkling.
“Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” He exclaimed, rushing forward to tackle Guy in a hug, but thankfully remembering boundaries at the last moment, stopped himself. He was about to back away, nervous laughter creeping up his throat, when Guy met him halfway and embraced him. Rookie fully relaxed in his hold, arms snaking around his waist. He was almost positive the whole agency could hear his heartbeat by now.
After what seemed like ages, yet at the same time one second, they parted, arms returning to their sides. Guy was holding a steady grin by now, and Rookie could not be happier to be the cause of it.
The tranquil moment came to an abrupt end when Rookie glanced at the digital clock on the wall. “Oh man, did I lose track of time! I gotta get back to work!” He quickly ran out of Guy’s workspace, glancing back just to see him looking at him fondly. His heart skipped a beat as he neared his desk, feeling giddy.
Rookie sat back down on his chair, hearing the usual squeak it gave under the strain. He spun around once for good measure, and resumed his report with renowned vigour.
If any agents passed by Jet Pack Guy’s desk to see him more upbeat than usual, or to see Rookie wearing a blazer that was far too large for him, they didn’t mention it.
#club penguin#rookie#jet pack guy#jetkie#jookie#one-shot#yes i write club penguin fanfiction what about it
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Truly Monstrous Luck - part 1
I didn’t think my day could get any worse. I lost my job after I got evicted when my landlord thought my testosterone was fucking heroine, my wallet got stolen - thanks, New York - and that meant my bus card and my money, So I have to walk from Manhattan to my brother's house in The Bronx, in the rain, without an umbrella. I thought this was the worst my day could get. Boy, was I wrong.
I was on 1st Avenue heading towards the Willis Avenue bridge, when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't think anything of it for the first few minutes - it's New York, a lot of people live here. But these footsteps sounded like someone was wearing tap shoes, crisp and loud and menacing. It made me nervous, sure, but I didn’t think they were dangerous. The only thing of any value I had on me was my phone, this shitty old Motorola Droid X I bought used when I was 13. Even if I did get mugged, I don't think anyone wants a 9 year old smartphone, so the worst that would happen is I would get a little roughed up. Big deal, I've dealt with worse.
But as I crossed 86th Street, the footsteps behind me sped up, and as I crossed in front of an alley I felt a pull from behind me. Then I started to really panic. A thousand horrific thoughts flashed through my head then as I was pulled into the dark alley, but none of them come close to what actually happened.
The person who had been following me was a guy who looked a little older than me, maybe 24. He wore a 3 piece suit with a golden tie and a pair of dress boots, and he held a solid black umbrella. He held me by the throat, pinned against the wall and out of sight of passers-by. I was shocked for a moment, unsure what happened - this guy was really strong. Inhumanly strong. After the shock settled a little, my mind was clouded with fear. Bad things can happen in dark alleyways, and I wasn't about to become another fucking statistic. I pulled at the man's hand, desperately trying to break free. But the man in the suit had an iron grip, keeping me firmly in place, several inches off of the ground. My fight or flight had already kicked in, and I was kicking at this man with all of the force I had, which was admittedly low since I had walked 15 blocks in the rain with a binder on, not a healthy combo. Combined with the pressure on my windpipe, I could barely breathe.
The man laughed as he held me there, weak and pathetic, fighting for dear life and on the verge of tears.
"It's worthless, little boy." He growled, and I saw now he had a pair of long white canines. "There's no escape now."
Oh, fuck no. No no no no, those things aren't real. Monsters don't exist. they shouldn't, at least…
"W-what do you want?" I wheezed, tears pricking at my eyes. I started feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.
"I might kill you. Drain your blood, leave you here for someone to find you." He starts, nodding his head from side to side as if weighing his options. "Or maybe I could turn you. Curse you with eternal life, give you the thirst for blood… which would you prefer?"
"I… I don't wanna die." I whimpered, not fully thinking what I was saying, tears streaming down my face.
"Unfortunately that's not an option, dollface." He smirked. "But I'll give you the next best thing." And with that, he plunged his fangs into my neck.
Up until this point, I had tried to convince myself that this dude was just some fucked up lunatic with coincidentally long teeth. But as soon as he bit me, there was no denying it. This asshole was a vampire, and I was fully about to die. Fuck, what am I gonna tell Justin? I guess nothing, he probably wouldn’t believe me anyways, if I even survive.
I thought that getting bit would hurt a lot more than it did, but it felt a lot like getting a shot - not painless, but unpleasant. I could feel the life being sucked out of me, and the longer it went on the more hazy my consciousness became. I fully lost consciousness after 10 seconds. The last thing I remember is his breath on my neck as my humanity melted away.
I wake up as I feel someone grabbing me around the torso. My vision is hazy and I feel hungry. My mind is hazy, I can’t manage to think of anything but death. I do my best to focus on what’s happening, who’s grabbing me, and slowly my vision clears and I can see that I’m in the arms of a hulking humanoid with green skin and an underbite with two giant protruding from its mouth. I start to panic all over again. What happened after I passed out? How long was I out? I start flailing frantically, trying to escape the clutches of this green-skinned monster. It notices me squirming, and holds me out at arms length by my underarms. Its silver eyes look me up and down, and as it seems to notice the fear in my eyes its own expression softens.
“Wh-who are you?” I manage to say as my mind fills with thoughts of escape, get away, kill whoever stops you and I hold back the urge to bite this thing. “What happened? Am I dead?”
Its eyes fill with a look of hurt and grief. “God, you’re so young. Fucking monsters, doing this to a kid…” Its - their? - voice is gruff, but more in a butch lesbian way than an MMA fighter way. Their face lightens a little, forcibly, eyes still full of grief. “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Yvonne, I work with a group that’s supposed to stop shit like this from happening to kids like you. Fuck, these assholes get so damn confident on rainy days…"
"Why did you grab me?" I ask slowly, suppressing the overwhelming thoughts of death as much as I can. "Why didn't you just leave me there?"
They take a deep breath and go down to their knees and set me on the ground, still holding onto my sides, so we're eye to eye. "Fledglings like you are often overwhelmed by their desires. I can see the bloodlust in your eyes, kid, and you're doing a hell of a job suppressing them like this. But by the time the sun sets you will have drawn blood, and that has caused a lot of good kids a lot of grief the day after. The group I work for works to prevent things like this - vampirism and lycanthropy and the like - from being spread, but sometimes shit like his happens, someone gets infected, and we have a responsibility to contain those kids, give them resources for dealing with their passive urges, help them get their fix in a way that doesn't put anyone at risk."
"I am dead." I mutter, going limp in Yvonne's arms and start crying. "Fuck, the universe won't give me a break, will it?"
"I'm sorry, baby." Yvonne mutters, pulling me back towards their - her? - chest and holding me in a tight hug. "Shit, 10 minutes and I would've been there, 10 minutes and this wouldn't've happened to you."
"Wh-why do you care about me?" I whimper, curling up in her arms. "I… I'm just some stupid kid."
"Everyone deserves someone who looks out for them, baby." She sighs. "I wouldn't wish what happened to you on my worst enemies. This area is my responsibility, this happened on my streets, I need to make sure you don't think you're alone in this."
"Th-thank you." Is all I can manage, before the thoughts are back at full force and I clutch my head, keeping my head between my legs, my mouth away from Yvonne and my eyes away from any people. I hiss as the thoughts invade my mind like a plague. All I can think about is death, of blood, of killing everyone, of killing this woman who has just shown me overwhelming kindness despite never having met me before. I start crying even harder, trying to make the thoughts go away, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up at Yvonne, a look of complete calm settled over her face - I wonder if she works in healthcare? - as she holds a small labelless juicebox.
"Cow blood." She says simply. "Helps with the urges."
I snatch the box out of her hand, poke the seal open with a fingernail, and chug the metallic liquid inside. It feels wrong, but my mind is so clouded with the need to drink that this seems like the greatest thing I've ever consumed. I feel a little dirty after doing it, but the thoughts are quieter.
“Can we leave?” I ask hesitantly. “I want to learn how to deal with this. And I don’t want to be here anymore.”
She nods, and stands up. “We need to get to Belvedere Castle. Do you have a way of getting home from there?”
I shake my head. “My brother lives in Mott Haven… and someone stole my wallet, so my only way of getting there is walking. All I have is my Motorola Droid.”
She nods sympathetically. “Do you want to go to your brother’s house first?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do two subway rides in a row. Plus, I need to figure out… how to tell him.”
She nods again. “You got a name I can call you, baby?”
“Uh, V-Victor.” I respond shakily, everything that’s happened in the past half an hour has me reeling and stressed and convinced that I must’ve just been pushed into oncoming traffic and this is a comatose nightmare, that a monster lady didn’t just have to explain to me that I’m a fucking vampire now. Monsters aren't supposed to be real, they’re not supposed to be able to walk through Manhattan totally unnoticed.
I’m not supposed to be one.
"Well, Victor, you good to walk the mile down to the park?"
I nod. “I… I have a binder on though… I can’t walk very fast.”
She looks confused for a moment, then realization flashes across her face. “That's good to know. We can get you connected to other trans guys at headquarters.”
“Th-there are other guys like me?” I’ve never heard of a trans vampire before.
“Nothing says monsters can’t be queer.” She reasons. “My girlfriend is a lycanthrope.”
I nod, a sense of lingering awe hanging in my mind. There are other people like me. This isn’t as much of a death sentence as I thought it was. It’s just another half an hour of walking to get to Belvedere Castle.
The rain is coming down even harder now, the clouds dark with the threat of thunder. I smile a little at that - I've always loved the sound of thunder. Vampirism isn't gonna fuck that over for me. Nothing can fuck up the pure joy the sound of thunder or sight of lightning gives me.
We head out, and I realize now just how hard it still is to breathe. My throat is burning, my binder is crushingly tight, and on top of that my legs feel like jelly. I do my best to keep pace with Yvonne, which is difficult to do without letting her know anything is wrong.
We get to Park Avenue before I have to pause and catch my breath. I tap Yvonne's arm as I wheeze slightly, leaning on a nearby building as I take as deep of breaths as I can.
"You good, baby?" She asks gently, and I nod in between breaths.
"Fine, just… drained." I mutter, not telling her about how tight my binder is. If she knows she'll make me take it off and that'll be worse than any broken ribs I might get.
"Take your time." She reassures me, leaning against the building and crossing her arms.
I mutter an unintelligible thanks, and take a minute or so to let my heart rate slow down and my lungs return to functioning normally.
"Alright," I sigh as my breathing returns to normal, "I'm good. Let's keep going."
She nods a little hesitantly, but makes no comment. I let out a tiny sigh of relief as we continue towards the park.
Lightning fills the sky by the time we reach Belvedere Castle. I smile wide as the flashes dance through the clouds, high above the highrise buildings of Manhattan. The water in Turtle Pond is constantly shifting under the barrage of the rain, warping the reflections of the trees and the castle above. Yvonne walks around the outside of the building, periodically knocking on stones as she goes, then walking into the castle and disappears as she rounds a corner inside. I trail close behind her, glad to get fully out of the rain. As I turn the corner where Yvonne disappeared, I find myself inside of a real, proper castle, walls lined with sconces fitted with lightbulbs and a giant chandelier hangs from the high ceiling. I run up to follow right at Yvonne’s feet, as the dozen or so people milling about turn to look at us. I can feel the creeping eyes of all of the people around the hall watching me, and I grab onto Yvonne’s shirt like a little kid following his mom. I have never felt less my age than I do at this moment.
“You don’t have to be so nervous, Victor.” She mutters, “Most of them won’t bite you.”
I snort at that, but her comment does little to stop the anxiety welling in my chest. Fuck, today is utter bullshit. It’s not even noon.
Yvonne leads us down a series of hallways, and everywhere we turn there are more people turning to look at me as we pass. I bear my teeth at a few of them out of fear, before remembering that probably has very different implications now that I have horrible vampire fangs. I keep my head down after that. I can still feel all of the eyes on me, but I do my best to ignore it.
“Arthur!” Yvonne yells as she guides us into an office-type room. “We’ve got a new infected!”
A man walks out from a sideroom and glares over at her. “This fucking early?” He hisses, then he sees me poking around from behind Yvonne. His expression shifts from annoyed to sad, and lets out a deep sigh.
“Where?” He grumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“86th and 1st.” She mutters. “He showed a surprising level of self-control right after he woke up. But… I still didn’t get there in time to stop it. The FUCKING train was late and now this kid’s dead.”
“It’s not as much of a death sentence as you think, Yvonne.” Arthur sighs, then looks at me. “What’s your name, son?”
“V-Victor, sir.” I respond quietly. This man is tall, maybe 6’2”, with sharp facial features. His cheekbones are high, and his nose is a little crooked, and his skin is deathly pale. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a Queen shirt, and he looks like hasn’t slept in a while.
“Well, Victor, I’ve been living like this for 50 years, and I’m perfectly fine… as long as I remember to eat…” he looks at me a little closer, squinting his eyes. “How old are you, kid?”
“Um… I’m twenty…” I squeak, getting a little bit of sensory overload at this point. I pop my knuckles to try and ground myself a little. My binder suddenly feels a lot tighter again.
“Jesus fuckin christ…” he groans, resting his face in his hand. “those bastards love to turn em young, huh?”
I nod a little, then things start to go out of focus. The room is spinning, my vision blacks out, and before I know it I’m on the ground. Fuck this spandex deathtrap.
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Pumpkins and Problems
(A Halloween fic, ~1600 words. Cassian and Jyn are neighbors. Jyn has had a lousy day; she doesn’t know it, but Cassian has too. Fallout ensues. Warning for mention of an offscreen transphobic action, abuse of a spare key, and a conflict between Jyn and Cassian that isn’t resolved by the end.) Now has a followup here.
Jyn trudged wearily to the door to her duplex. Her first graders had been fidgety with excitement about Halloween, and her car had been dead when she tried to start it. Normally she could have called her neighbor for a ride home after she dealt with having the car towed to a repair shop. She had tried, but his number had gone straight to voicemail, and after waiting a few minutes for a return call or text she had taken the bus home.
The nearest stop wasn't that close, and she had gotten drenched when the heavens opened up moments after she stepped off the bus. All she wanted now was to shower before she had to be ready to hand out candy. Having enough time to dry her hair would be a bonus.
She stopped short at the steps. Her neighbor's side had eight pumpkins neatly lined up. All of them had designs: half of them had faces. The others were a witch on a broomstick, a cat with an arched back, a skull, and a wolf howling at the moon.
"That's ... festive," she muttered. The pumpkins hadn't been there when she left. Well, her neighbor worked at home most of the time; one of the benefits was that you could carve out the time to carve a pumpkin or eight.
She turned the key and let herself in, making straight for the stairs, leaving her purse on the floor and strewing clothing as she went. She was done with the feeling of wet fabric sticking to her skin
Her socks were the last thing to go. Hot water, here I come. She stepped over the wall of the bathtub and shrieked. She was up to her ankles in ... goo. Cold, gloppy goo.
She looked down nervously. The goo was orange. Pumpkin slime. She was standing in pumpkin slime.
Jyn thought of the freshly carved pumpkins on the steps. Well. I guess I was wrong that I could trust him with a spare key. "What did I ever do to you, Cassian Andor?" she muttered.
She bent down and swept the rug aside, climbed gingerly out, and sat on the toilet. She moved the trash can, held her pumpkin-coated feet over it, and reached for some toilet paper. This was not going to be fun at all.
Half an hour later, her feet were no longer wet or sticky. She had toweled herself dry, picked up her dirty clothes, and thrown them in the hamper with more force than was strictly required. Her hair was brushed and semi-dry; now she was hesitating in front of the closet. The temptation to put on pajamas was strong; but when there was any chance she might encounter her students and their parents, she made a point of looking presentable. She settled on tights, a black broomstick skirt, and a long green sweater that would hide her braless state. Black flats finished the ensemble.
She put on mascara and a little lip gloss and went downstairs to assemble the candy and other Halloween goodies she was going to be handing out. She had novelty erasers and pencils for the kids with allergies; the candy she planned to dole out was free of several of the common allergens, but you never knew.
A few minutes before the designated trick-or-treat hours started, she was ready, seated on the couch with the candy bowl ready to grab. Her doorbell rang, and she got up.
It wasn't a trick-or-treater. Well, it wasn't a child trick-or-treater. The costume was impressive even if she had no idea what it was: a glowing-eyed pumpkin head and a black robe over an outfit with tall boots and crossed belts featuring a skull and crossbones.
"What are you dressed as?" Jyn said finally, breaking a silence that was rapidly becoming uncomfortable.
"A reminder that you shouldn't fuck with the person who has your spare key," said her neighbor.
"You're the one who decided I wanted a pumpkin pedicure," Jyn snapped. "And I want my spare key back by the end of the night."
"I want mine back, too."
Jyn ducked back inside and slammed the door. It was a short walk to the kitchen drawer where she kept Cassian's spare key. She opened the door, startling a trick-or-treater who was reaching for the doorbell, and then had to fumble for the candy bowl. "Nice Spider-Man," she told the kid, and dropped some candy in the pillowcase that was held out to her.
When the kid was gone, she held the key out to Cassian. He took it, and then had nowhere to put it. Apparently his costume didn't have pockets. She swallowed a smirk as he dangled her key awkwardly from his one free hand.
But she really did want it back, so she took it, and slid it into her skirt pocket. "Your costume is less impressive now that I know it doesn't have pockets," she informed him.
He scowled at her. "It does have pockets. But it's none of your business where they are. I am not talking about my costume to someone who tried to ruin it."
"I didn't even know you were wearing one, so how could I have possibly tried to ruin it?"
"Freezing my new binder inside a giant block of ice and filling the boots with kitty litter made a good start."
"What? I didn't do that! I wouldn't have done that. Except that right now I'd like to buy whoever did it a beer."
"You're the only one who has a spare key. Unless you think it was the management company." He handed some candy to a girl dressed as Elsa, and Jyn followed suit.
"Are you really, really sure about that? That no one else ever had a spare key?" She flashed back to the time over the summer when he'd asked her to feed his cat while he was away, and she couldn't, because she was going to a conference. Not that the beast would have starved over the weekend—it was a huge Maine Coon—
She dragged her thoughts back to the present and looked at him. It was impossible to see if any realization had struck behind the mask, but she had looked back in time to see his shoulders slump.
"Oh, shit. Jyn, I'm sorry."
"I'll take that for what it's worth." She doled out candy to a pair of pirates. "Right now? Not much."
"I guess I deserve that," he said when the pirates were gone.
"No argument here."
"Any chance we can hash this out when we aren't being swarmed by children?"
"What is there to hash out? You jumped to conclusions and vandalized my bathroom. You're not getting the time you need to talk your way around that tonight."
The sound of a throat clearing pulled her attention away from Cassian's response, if he had one.
"Hello, Ms. Erso."
Jyn blinked, and turned to look at her latest visitor. She didn't recognize the child in the turtle costume, but she did know the man who'd greeted her. "Mr. Malbus. Hello. And Happy Halloween, Lan." Lan held out her teal pumpkin, and Jyn gave her a handful each of erasers and pencils. "Candy too? It should be safe." She held her bag of lollipops up; Lan's father nodded provisional approval, and Jyn gave her a handful. Lan had serious food allergies; Jyn hadn't realized she lived close enough to show up at her house, but she was glad she'd prepared. She'd been thinking of kids like Lan when she'd picked out her candy and other offerings.
"Happy Halloween again, Ms. Erso! And thank you," Lan added.
Jyn smiled. "You're welcome, Lan."
"Is everything all right?" Mr. Malbus asked, and Jyn wanted to die of embarrassment. He wasn't just Lan's father; he was also Jyn's co-worker. At least she knew he wasn't much for workplace gossip.
"I'm fine," she assured him, after what was probably an awkwardly long pause; it was the best safe answer she could find.
"All right, then. Lan and I will see you tomorrow."
"Of course." Jyn managed what she hoped was a properly collegial tone. "See you then. Have fun, Lan."
"Bye, Ms. Erso," Lan called, and turned to wave as she and her father walked away.
"Bye, Lan," Jyn replied, trying to summon up her teacher's smile. She probably failed miserably; in any event, she could feel the attempt turning into a glare as they walked away and she remembered that Cassian was still there.
"You talked yourself right into that, so don't try to blame it on me," he said before she could speak. "I think that's enough for this evening."
He opened his door, and swept inside in a swirl of fabric. His duplex's porch light went off a moment later.
That was much more dignified than someone wearing a pumpkinhead has any right to be. She stayed where she was, handing out candy to everyone who came calling until her bowl was empty and she was down to pencils and erasers. Then she went inside and flopped down on the couch. She had to admit that after a day like this it would be nice to have a cat to pet and sulk with. But sulking won't make my bathroom clean tomorrow morning. She got up with a weary sigh, grabbed her dustpan and a trashbag and a roll of paper towels, and headed upstairs.
Thanks for reading! A followup can be found here.
#therebelcaptainnetwork#rebelcaptain fanfic#rebelcaptain#my posts#i wanted to write a rebelcaptain fic for halloween and here it is#halloween
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enjoy your stay - chapter twelve
A/N - I don’t put links in anymore so that this comes up on search, but check my masterlist linked in my bio for links to every previous/future chapter.
Word count 2.9k. This chapter is the tiniest 100 words shorter than they normally are, but that’s because chapter 13 is pretty...full on. I will almost definitely be updating again this week as a celebration for 300 followers, so watch this space! There’s more coming very soon...
ENJOY YOUR STAY
↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung
↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.
SUMMARY
↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.
CHAPTER TWELVE
↳You confront Taehyung about him and Jimin, but his reaction is unexpected. You navigate some boundaries with Jungkook, but he has one condition. You go to Yoongi’s office to show off your budget, and he makes an impulsive decision.
“You look lovely.”
You glare at him; having forgotten you were wearing a work uniform in a black-tie event. “Shut up,” you mutter irritably. “When did you take that photo?” Your voice is more vulnerable than you had intended, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“Shortly after I arrived in town. I was testing out the zoom on my new rig and I saw you in the parking lot. It’s a good shot.”
A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes and your fingers twitch. As much as you wanted to, you still had to drive back after this. “Isn’t that, like, illegal? Taking a photo of somebody without their permission?”
He runs a hand through his perfectly tousled hair with a clipped sigh. “I didn’t realize you’d be so opposed to it. You should be honored that I chose your photo for my final project. I had hundreds to choose from, you know. And I’ve had three different offers to buy a print of it. Like I said, it’s a good shot.”
“Okay, Steven Spielberg, I get it.” Now that he keeps insisting on it, you can kind of see the twisted flattery of the situation. “Don’t I get a print, then? Since it’s my eye.”
He gives you a cheeky grin. “Sure. It’s going for $250.”
You let out an incredulous cry, but you can’t help your lips from quirking up. “Fuck you,” you spit out, but there’s no malice in your tone.
“Hey, now,” his hands come down on your shoulders, head leaning in closer to whisper, “please don’t show up at my place of work with such foul language. I’m sure you’d hate if I did the same to you.” His eyes twinkle mischievously.
You desperately try to quell the grin spreading across your face, but one thought drops it in a split second. “I was the one, back then.”
He blinks, confused smile playing on his lips. “What?”
You clear your throat. His warm palms on your shoulders, burning through the fabric of your blouse are the only things keeping you anchored. “That night, in your hotel room. Namjoon asked me to go sort out a noise complaint. Jimin was there.”
He sobers instantly, eyes staring out to middle distance, probably recalling the door you slammed on your way out, before he catches himself and looks back down at you in pity. “Oh, Y/n…”
“It’s… It’s fine if you two are a thing, you know. I don’t have any right to, uh, to stop it.”
He bites his lip thoughtfully, glancing around the room, then slides a hand down your arm to curl around your elbow. “Let’s go to the backroom,” he mutters, “we can have a little more privacy.”
You obediently let him lead you out back, to a cramped space filled with covered canvases and boxes of materials. There’s a dirty sink with dried-up paintbrushes in one corner, and a couple of odd chairs and stools in the other. The plastic linoleum is splattered with decades-old paint, and the air smells of turpentine. The distant noises from the party are cut off when he closes the door behind you.
“Jimin told me about everything,” he begins, sitting tiredly on a wooden stool. Even with his expensive clothes and ostentatious accessories, he still fits in with the room, and you’re taken by how graceful he looks among it all. “Everything that went down between you two. He felt like you weren’t willing to give him a chance. He called the hotel directly and was put through to my room. He explained it all, then asked me if I was willing to comfort him.” He scratches at a burnt ochre smudge on the rounded edge of the stool, ignoring the pigment getting caught under his fingernail. “It upsets me that he did it to get at you, not because he actually liked me. If I’m honest with myself, I knew it when he was calling me. I guess I could’ve just hung up, but… It’s hard to say no to Park Jimin, you know?”
You did know. You grabbed a seat of your own, an old metal school-chair that wobbled every time you shifted your weight. “Dammit. I wish I could be angry at you.”
He scoffs good-naturedly. “I watched a movie once. Three women getting back at the man that cheated on all three of them. Instead of being angry at each other, let’s team up.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully at the suggestion.
“I think I remember that movie. Cheesy Hollywood chick-flick. I didn’t take you for the type to watch cheap comedies. I always assumed you would be the one to have a binder dedicated to Kubrick’s moon landing theory and cry about the golden age of cinema being over.”
He tilts his head innocently. “Oh, what about me could possibly draw you to that conclusion?”
You raise your eyebrows pointedly. “It seems redundant to answer that.”
“Fair enough,” he allows. He straightens up. “Hey, shouldn’t you be at work?”
You nod. “I got sent on a mission from the Better Kim. He wants me to convince you to sell your pictures to the hotel.”
“Ah, you can have them,” he waves a hand dismissively.
“Really? Namjoon seemed pretty happy to pay. Surely you’d want to take the opportunity to make some money off of your hard work?”
He sends you a quick wink. “The beauty of the digital age is that I can print out more copies again and again until the day I die. I’ll be making money off these bad boys forever, I can afford to give Joon a set for free.”
“You punk. You business-savvy punk.” You get up off your chair, sick of the unsteady leg. “If that’s settled, then I only have one more question.” He rolls his eyes when you pause for dramatic effect. “How are we gonna get back at Park Jimin?”
You’re surprised that Namjoon doesn’t comment on how long you’ve been gone when you finally do return. Once you announce that his little brother is willing to give over the prints, he probably assumes that you spent those two hours trying to convince him, and you feel no need to correct this presumption.
You find yourself able to smile at Jimin again when you do your rounds in the lobby, no longer feeling like he’s got one up on you. Of course, he doesn’t know what’s coming to him yet, but he gives you a surprised but jolly wave back nonetheless.
Hobi is uncharacteristically subtle about the whole thing and doesn’t question you about the drastic twists and turns your attitude about Jimin has gone through.
Jin has left a little saucer with a couple chocolate eclairs on it when you stop by the kitchen, and beside it is a little note with a pun about how you were ‘sweet enough’ on it. Your mood had lifted quite a bit from when you had left home that morning, but more importantly, you felt more clarity than you had in a long time.
You made your way to the bar last, knowing you might be a while. Jungkook had his glasses on today, little round lenses with a gold wire, which meant he had been studying at work again. His expression automatically brightened when he saw you, but then he settled back into a pout and rubbed at his tired eyes. You noticed with a pang of guilt that they were still red.
“Jungkook,” you say gently, sitting at the bar instead of coming inside it like you used to, “let’s talk.”
His jaw shifts, and his eyes are downcast, but he nods.
You suppose you should’ve expected his sullen mood, but it still disappoints you. “I wanted to apologize,” you start, “not for the fact that Yoongi was over, because you still had no right to accuse me of anything, but for the way I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
He nods again, not saying anything. As you speak, he keeps lowering his head, tucking his chin into his chest, and you think you hear him sniff quietly.
“But we do need to take this as a sign that things are moving too fast. I like you, Jungkook, I really do, but you were right. We’ve gone about this all backwards. Sleeping together, moving in; those things should happen later in a relationship. You’re still young, and inexperienced,” he scoffs indignantly but you keep talking, “you are, and that’s okay, but it means that I have a responsibility to make sure you’re safe. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
He makes a strangled noise in his throat, and when he looks up to reply, his eyes are glassy. “Noona, you aren’t taking advantage of me. I’ve never been happier.”
“Okay, Jungkook, but that doesn’t change things. I still need to be careful. If you want to be in a relationship with me-”
“Yes!”
You sigh tiredly at the interruption, but you can’t be angry at him. “If you still want to be in a relationship with me, we’re going to need to start from scratch. We need to go back to square one and take things slow, okay?”
He whines. “I don’t wanna take things slow.”
You try to bite back your clipped tone. “Well, it’s non-negotiable, Jungkook. Take it or leave it.”
He sniffs noisily and wipes his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. “So, you’re breaking up with me so that we can get back together again? That’s stupid.”
You hum, unamused. “What’s stupid is that you’re getting upset over nothing. I’m giving you a chance to do this right, or we won’t do it at all, okay?” You bite your lip, worried you’ve been a bit harsh on a boy who clearly just doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Jungkook, did you notice that you never once actually asked me to be your girlfriend? You just assumed, after we…” You clear your throat. “Technically we were never officially together, so I’m not breaking up with you.”
He blinks away his tears, more put-out than upset. “Still feels like it,” he mutters petulantly.
“Gah, stop with the pity party,” you tease lightly, “if you want us to be together, you have to ask me out like a real man.”
He blinks at you suspiciously, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. “Noona, will you be my girlfriend?”
“No.”
He slams a fist on the benchtop. “Then what was the point of-”
“Ask me out, Jungkook. We have to go on a few dates first, get to know each other.”
He releases his fist slowly. “Noona, will you go out with me?”
“I’d love to,” you answer breezily, chuckling at the dramatic sigh that leaves his lips when you do. You get up from the bar-stool and brush the creases out of your pants. “Now, I’ve got to go, but you can tell me the time and date when you-”
“Noona, wait!”
You freeze. “Yeah?”
All of a sudden, he’s avoiding your gaze, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He laughs nervously. “Could I ask for a favor?”
You eye him suspiciously. “…I guess. It depends on the favor.”
He shrugs sheepishly. “I kinda, sort of, already told my parents I had a girlfriend, and that she was the one I moved in with.”
You breathe out slowly. “Okay…”
“And they want to meet you this weekend. I was going to ask you anyway, I didn’t… I didn’t realize you were gonna break up with me.”
You rub your hands over your face tiredly. He seems ready to defend himself, but you just nod in defeat. “Sure, okay. I do this one-time thing for you, and then you promise to take things slow and not be so possessive. Deal?”
He grins. “Deal.” He waits until you’re almost at the doorway before calling your name out again. Once you turn around expectantly, he gives you a cute smile and puts on a voice. “I love youuu.”
Your mouth hangs open a little, and you want to tell him that it’s inappropriate, that he promised he would take things slow, but you just laugh incredulously, unable to stop the blush and flattered grin from taking over. That boy was too handsome for his own good. “Damn you, Jeon Jungkook.” He waves you out, battering his eyelashes.
You had been avidly working away at your budget since Yoongi had left your apartment mad that day, as if proof of your willingness to improve would cheer him up.
You knew the reason he was so upset with you, and it still struck you with a pang of guilt every time you thought about it.
You had acted like you and Jungkook weren’t a thing, and he had defended you, but then later walked in on the two of you sucking face like teenagers. It would be embarrassing if it weren’t so desperately unfortunate.
In your defense, you didn’t see Jungkook and you as officially dating then, and now you had confirmed it, but still, as you left work, telling Jungkook you were seeing an old high school friend, you felt that you were really walking the line here.
You had decided to go directly to Yoongi’s office to tell him. He hadn’t made any attempt at booking you in for a follow-up, and you doubted he would. The receptionist recognized you, and you only had to wait in the lobby for twenty minutes before he had a gap in his appointments, and she sent you up.
Yoongi looked comically shocked when you delicately rapped on the glass door of his office. His mouth hung open in a perfect ‘o’, his eyebrows went up and his eyes were blown wide. He composed himself by the time you sat down, however, and when he finally addressed you, it was with a low, businessman voice.
“Was my advice not helpful enough the first time?” he drones.
A little disheartened at his disinterest, you shake your head emphatically. “That’s not it, I just…” you trail off and root around in your purse, pulling out the freshly printed budget you had drawn up, slapping it down on his desk with a flourish. “I did what you asked, and I thought you’d want to see.”
He raises his eyebrows again, but this time in bemusement. The thought that he isn’t that angry at you eases a little pressure in your chest. “You thought I’d want to see? Do you think perhaps that I work in this industry because I just love staring at budgets?”
You purse your lips. “Well, no but- I wanted you to know that I’d taken your advice. That’s all,” you trail off awkwardly, casting your eyes down to his tiepin, unable to hold his gaze for long.
You hear him chuckle from the back of his throat, but he doesn’t crack a smile. “Hand it over, then.”
You shoot up in your seat and push the paper over to his side of the desk. He plucks it off the table reluctantly. After a few moments of dealing with his impassive gaze, you cough impatiently. “Is it any good?”
He presses his lips together and looks up at you from under his delicate eyelashes. “You spend $280 a week on your water bill?”
You frown. “No, that’s the monthly average.”
He rewards your stupidity with a wry grin, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “All of the amounts need to be for a set period, a week, a fortnight, a month. Otherwise you’ll get confused.”
You scratch your head, humming in agreement. “Oh, it definitely was confusing. Alright, I’ll change it. Anything else?”
“One thing,” he announces, tossing the sheet of paper carelessly onto the table, “I’ve never. Heard a budget be called ‘Mean Yoongi’s money table’ before.”
Shocked, you jump up in your seat like you’ve been stung, snatching the page off the table. You see in the top right corner, written in your ungraceful handwriting, the temporary title you had assigned the draft of your budget.
You realize, with dawning horror, that you had handed over the draft instead of the final printout. Dammit, you think to yourself, and I went to all that effort to put a pretty border on the actual budget only to give him the wrong one.
You screw up the paper into a ball and chuck it into his wastepaper basket, laughing nervously. “I’m sorry, sir, that wasn’t the actual budget.”
His eyes twinkle a little when you call him sir, and you hope that it’s enough for him to forgive you. He spins around a little in his chair and shuffles down a bit, resting his interlocked hands on his stomach. “I’ve decided,” he proclaims rather dramatically, “that I’m ready to cash in.”
“Cash…in?” you repeat uncertainly.
He grins at you, tilting his head to the side and letting his eyes wander over you. “Cash in on your generous offer.”
It still takes you a few moments, but when you get what he’s implying, your mouth drops open. You glance around his office. Glass doors and glass windows. “…right now? Right here?”
Suddenly his sly attitude is gone, and he straightens up, staring at you quizzically. “No,” he states like it’s obvious, “I’m taking you to my place.”
TAGLIST (send me a message or an ask to be added, and you’ll get notified every time I post a new EYS chapter).
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@thisgirlis-shy
@sweetcheeksdna (I don’t know why your tag isn’t coming up, sorry!)
@boononx
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#bts au#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#yoongi x reader#bts fic#enjoy your stay#jin x reader#jimin x reader#namjoon x reader#hoseok x reader#jeongguk x reader#bts imagine
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Double Bloom drabble 1
AU: On the right wrist of every individual is the first words their soulmate will speak to them.
Characters: Aalto, Iain, Destiny, Oliver, Mochi, Vel, Kadence.
Word count: 2,266
Aalto kept his arm outstretched. It strained him, keeping a focus on the spells he was practicing while maintaining control over his prosthetic’s fingers. To stay clear, he tested the waters and allowed his shaking hand to relax slightly to give himself more control.
“Keep your mind on balancing both tasks.”
Aalto stiffened his prosthetic’s arm once again. He hated to hear that voice, demanding and condescending. Commanding him to do what felt impossible, to do what made him sweat under the desert sun, with no sympathy to spare for him.
Hours passed, with limited success. Aalto was able to keep his prosthetic arm in the casting pose using his magic, however, since the incident that took his arm, Aalto encountered trouble in focusing on casting magic while controlling his prosthetic. He did well enough for a small nod from Iain before being told what he had done wrong.
It was only the occasional training session that Iain would end with some half-assed summary of what Aalto had done decently. Usually it was what he struggled with, and how it wasn’t anywhere near what was expected of him, as it was today. Destiny was always waiting inside on the days she didn’t teach, and would often greet Aalto afterwards, offering some kind of drink to help him cool off. He would take it, thank her, and go to his room and lock the door.
Now Aalto sat in his room, listening to the primarily one-sided conversation in their makeshift kitchen. Destiny was reminding Iain to ‘go easy, he’s just a human boy.’ Aalto assumed that Iain had barely acknowledged it. A thankful smile grew as he heard Destiny’s reaction to whatever bullshit Iain had tried for an excuse after that, ‘he’s not like us, Iain, and you know you shouldn’t push him like you are!’
Aalto then laid back onto his bed, trying to think past the conversation going on just down the hall. He tiredly pulled his tunic off, arching his back slightly to unzip his binder before pulling it off alongside his arm. He had heard the argument before, and he was tired of being reminded. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of sand hitting his window as he thought back and attempted to keep his breathing keep and steady.
Aalto had lost his arm after casting a higher level destruction spell. Destiny was concerned for the fact that Aalto had suffered a major injury, one that was able to be healed quickly by her magic. She began her thoughts towards his mental health, but it was short-lived after Iain discovered the scene. He was proud, the bastard. Proud that this human that his sister had adopted somehow paid off. He told Aalto that casting that spell was promising, that it assured him of the potential that lay within him. Training increased from once a week to three times a week, one of which was with Destiny. Those were Aalto’s favorite sessions.
Aalto slept with a common dream of his own. When he had lost his arm, he had lost something else entirely. On the right wrist of every human individual were the first words they will hear from their soulmate. Iain and Destiny lacked those words, however, Aalto fawned over this distinction. When he was young, he had enjoyed the concept of a soulmate. He begged Destiny to tell stories of how he may grow older, a master of the magic Iain promised to teach him, and as he performed miracles to help other humans like him, a stranger spoke the words- “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
So what now? Have his words been erased from his would-be soulmate? Has his soulmate forgotten him, or would they be searching for the person with an intact right wrist that says those exact words as they speak? Oh, what a mistake he had made.
In this dream, Aalto was pushing his way through a thick wood, using his magic to bend the greenery out of his path. He wore the outfit Destiny had made for him, it felt as if it was made of silk, and it never grew dirty. She called it professional, said it made him look dashing. Maybe that’s why he always wore in the dream. As he trudged forward, wildlife watched him. An uneasy feeling overtook him as he moved faster, it was as if a message was passed through the woods to him, a message he was desperate to answer. It was then that Aalto pushed past into a clearing, and in the center lay a figure. Aalto called out, and in return he looked to his prosthetic, the words spoken towards him written as if that was his own flesh and bone.
When he awoke, Aalto saw Destiny’s kind face hovering over his. Immediately she smiled gently, knowing to keep her excitement down. He was exhausted, and a slow glance at the window gave the indication that he had slept towards the evening, with no harsh winds and a sky no longer burdened with a burning sun.
Destiny shifted, kneeling to be face level with Aalto. “Iain and I talked about your training, he should be going easier on you now. When you’re with him, I’ll be your audience from now on. How does that sound?“
Aalto hummed. “Good, I just… It’s just that I don’t want to trap myself again.” he whispered. After training, Aalto slept. Then he ate. And then he slept again until morning came, and Iain waited for him to eat before training began once more.
Destiny brought a hand up and began to run her hands through Aalto’s hair. She brought her head up to rest beside his. This was her boy. He was mature, but young. An idea sparked, and Destiny smiled, bringing her head up.
“Rumor has it that there is a bakery opening in Nucifera, and I’d hate to live in the mystery that their goods might somehow match up to our own.” Destiny brought an arm up to lean on, smiling more as Aalto understood. “So, I think it would be best if you redressed and went out to get a meal along with some treats from that bakery. Perhaps then we can make the decision on if it is up to our own quality.”
Aalto smiled, reaching for his binder and arm before Destiny pulled it over to him. She winked at him, and as she reached the door, Aalto gave a tired wave.
“Love you.” he said.
“I love you too. Be safe.”
When Aalto arrived in the kingdom, the sun was lowered enough to touch the sandy horizon. He enjoyed the view from the kingdom, but it was difficult to shake the feeling of unease as he stepped out of the desert and onto the cobblestone path as he moved onto the plains the kingdom was built on.
The guards watched him. Magic users were not common, and while they were not exactly welcomed, they are not completely turned away. Destiny once told a story of how magic users helped build the kingdom, how they worked alongside the royal blood to maintain such a prosperous kingdom. But those magic users left after the royals gave them nothing in return.
Aalto walked the path up, stiffly watching his own movements. Last time he had been here, Destiny had been told to wait at the gate, and Aalto refused to go in without her. Thankfully it didn’t burn his face into banishment, but it did make for a sour trip home. Aalto now regrets it, as he moved through another cobblestone wall through the path he followed. Shouldn’t market areas be easy to find?
“Excuse me? Excuse me?”
Aalto turned, to see an annoyed man, wearing a white coat and formal wear. Glasses framed his eyes, which stared right into his own.
“Who are you, why are you on royal grounds?” he asked. “Are you even supposed to be here? This isn’t a shortcut!"
Aalto stared back, completely silent. No way he was gonna say something to bring more attention his way.
"Oliver, is there a problem?”
Shit. Aalto turned, seeing a small group, all of whom where looking at him. The one who called over was also wearing a white coat, they had long blonde hair with a blue stripe. Behind her was another girl, with red hair matching her outfit pinned up, a blonde stripe matching the other’s. Lastly, there was…
The fucking prince.
Fuck.
Aalto must have been hiding his panic fairly well, as Oliver and the blonde-blue hair white coated people bickered, the prince looked from them to him and fucking smiled before taking a fucking step towards him.
“Oh shit.”
The words were out of Aalto’s mouth before he could think, and by the look on the prince’s face, he was done. No meal, no stop by the bakery, if he was being released to go back home today then he was going home with some kind of fine and banishment from the kingdom. Perfect.
The prince’s look of disbelief faded and he began to walk towards Aalto again, who stood stiff. When the prince stood right in front of him, the prince’s smile was bright, and he put out his hand. And Aalto froze.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”
FUCK.
The prince stood silent, watching Aalto’s face for any reaction other than intense discomfort. He then pulled his right sleeve up slightly. On his wrist the words ‘Oh shit.’ stood as a permanent mark against his skin.
“Granted, I never really… enjoyed having this sort of vulgarity printed on me. I will say my attempts to listen through crowds of visitors to hear it were straining to say the least. Though, I believe this meeting is preferable to the stories that I’ve heard from others.”
The group he was with was staring and whispering to one another.
“Although… I suppose other stories don’t compare to the one you create.”
Aalto took a deep breath. He did not want to be here right now. The prince took a step back and put down his hand.
“I’m- sorry, I suppose that isn't… the best… introduction. My name is Kadence, I'm… I’m Prince Kadence Nelumbo. This is the Kingdom of Nucifera, although you probably knew that.”
The two stood still, and Aalto then spoke softly, enough to Kadence to hear.
“You… you are my soulmate.” he said softly.
Kadence nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry if I'm… not what you had hoped for. I promise you, any further steps you want to take I will support.”
Not what he had hoped for? Aalto raised his right arm up, and watched Kadence as his eyes drifted down. Several emotions ran across his face, clear as day. This prince never had to hide anything, did he? Kadence looked up to meet Aalto’s eyes. The prince’s soulmate was a human magic user.
Aalto looked past Kadence to the group that had accompanied him. The red haired one pushed Oliver away as he harshly whispered to her, and the blonde gave a thumbs up. They were leaving. Oh, shit, he had to leave. Aalto took a step forward and looked back at Kadence.
“It’s- I live in the desert. It’s late, and I…” Aalto fumbled. He felt more comfortable when it was Kadence who was fumbling with words. But shit, it was worse when Kadence’s smile slowly fell into worry.
“Can’t you stay? Just tonight and we… we can further discuss things, we can discuss one another and make up for lost time-”
Kadence wasn’t really thinking when his anxieties crawled into his words. For years, maintaining his kingdom as its prince, a title he could never shake and must earn beyond, felt fruitless. He was pitiful. Kadence ruled his kingdom, but he was not a king. For years he believed that if he were to find his soulmate, certainly, he would mature. His staff would bloom and he would be the king. He and his true love would care for the kingdom and they would flourish. He couldn’t lose this man.
Kadence held Aalto’s metallic arm so gently. As if holding him closer would break them both, while holding him any less would whittle them both to nothing. Aalto leaned closer and rested his forehead against Kadence’s. He felt the prince freeze, although he had leaned into the touch. Aalto brought his left hand up to the prince’s side, where he brushed his thumb softly. Aalto took a slow breath in and out.
“Kadence,” a shift as the prince turned slightly to listen closely, “I promise you, I will be back. I’ll be at the gate when tomorrow dawns.”
Aalto began to pull away, and tipped Kadence’s chin up as his expression laid dejected. “You promise?” the prince asked.
“I promise.” Aalto’s eyes flickered down for a moment before leaning and kissing Kadence’s cheek.
“I… Okay, I’m gonna…” Aalto shrugged slightly as Kadenced smiled, watching. Aalto moved back, looking for the entrance he had moved through. “I’m gonna meet you then. Okay? Uh… bye!”
Kadence watched Aalto leave, almost hurried with a small sigh and a smile. He touched his cheek. His smile fell as he saw the group of staff at the window.
“How much did you see?” he asked.
“Enough to make you tell us everything about him.” Mochi called out, straightening her coat. Vel turned from her sister and shrugged before beginning to shoo everyone away, bribing them with the idea of a cake she may just make for the prince’s soulmate.
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secret keepers. douze.
repost because i apparently never gave you guys chapter 11!
Warnings: smut, disregard of pronouns, dysphoria mention, emotional abuse(?), and vulgar language. This stuff is all just mentioned as josh and tyler talk about it.
Disclaimer: I am a cisgender, bisexual female and so I have no idea what is like to be a trans, gay man so I am sorry if I offend anyone! I'm gonna say this here and I'll repeat it in other chapters where I feel like people can get mad at me for things. If I have gotten something completely wrong/offensive, please give me advice on how to make it better!
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Josh grunted as a weight settled on him, eyes slowly opening to see his boyfriend happily perched on his chest, wiggling his little hips.
"Ty what are you," Josh's question was cut off by a soft kiss to his lips, Tyler's hands trailing down his body and towards his boxers. Josh let out a soft moan, he always enjoyed being dominated by Tyler. It was nice to see the usually shy man take what he wanted. It was at this moment that Josh remembered what had happened last night. Talk about a cock block. Josh pulled back from the kiss, sitting up so he could see Tyler and so the younger man couldn't avoid his questions with kisses.
"Honey what about last night?" Josh got out breathily since Tyler had started to attack his neck half way through his question.
"Tyler," Josh attempted to be stern, but the teacher whined in annoyance.
"I don't wanna talk about it Josh," Tyler whispered, "I just wanna be close to my boyfriend, right now," Tyler purred, running his fingers through Josh's hair. The older man bit his lip, not sure what he wanted to do. He wanted to make sure his boyfriend was okay after last night, but also didn't want to see his confidence drain from him. Josh sat unsurely for a second before nodding his head slightly.
"You tell me when you need me to stop, the exact second Tyler," Josh said, tone firm as he gripped Tyler's hips tightly. Tyler nodded his head to show he understood before pulling Josh back into the kiss. Josh got lost in the kiss, holding his boyfriend with such care like he was scared Tired might break in half. It was the standard make out session that they were used to having. Until Tyler took one of Josh's hands and casually led it into his boxers. Josh's fingers trembled as they touched Tyler's coarse pubic hair, trimmed to by hygienic, but not like how the girls Josh has been with were like. Josh reminded himself that Tyler was no girl and he shouldn't be comparing him to past relationships.
"Be tender," Tyler instructed, letting go of Josh's hand and moving his own up to clench at Josh's bicep. Josh gulped audibly, not wanting to accidentally hurt Tyler or cause him discomfort. Josh thought back to his past with girls and by-passed Tyler's clit to rub his labia slowly. Tyler inhaled sharply, rocking into Josh's touch.
"Sensitive honey?" Josh whispered, Tyler nodding his head against Josh's shoulder. The older man slowly made his way up to Tyler's clit, letting his thumb circle the nub, gradually getting faster. Josh kissed at Tyler's neck during this process, listening to Tyler's keens and moans.
"Joshua, oh Joshua, JOSHUA!"
Josh shot awake to the harsh shaking, looking over at the flustered Tyler. The pink haired man glanced down at his crotch and Josh let out a loud groan, rubbing a hand over his face.
"I'm sorry baby boy," Josh said, his voice groggy. He made to get up, needing to calm down away from Tyler so he didn't pressure his boyfriend. The last thing he wanted was for Tyler to be uncomfortable. Soft hands on his chest stopped him, Tyler pulling Josh back onto the bed. Josh looked at him confusedly, but Tyler didn't meet his eyes, focusing on drawing shapes on Josh's chest.
"Honey?" Josh whispered, reaching up to cover Tyler's hand with his own, pausing his movements.
"Have to get used to it, don't I?" Tyler whispered, bringing Josh's knuckles to his lips before putting them back on his chest.
"Can't be with the man I love if I can't handle his wet dreams," Tyler joked solemnly, Josh smiling warily.
"Baby can we talk about last night?" Josh asked, eyes focused solely on Tyler to watch his reactions. Tyler paused for a second before nodding slowly.
"Take your time darling," Josh whispered, slowly sitting up in the bed and pulling Tyler to sit in his lap. The younger man curled up to his chest, fingers hooking in Josh's collarbone for a brief moment. Josh rubbed his back tenderly, waiting for Tyler to start.
"It wasn't a sudden thing... I think I always knew that I was different. Girls like dolls and dresses and I would scream and cry every Sunday when my mom attempt to put me in a dress. I liked to play basketball and get dirty, no matter how much my parents scolded me for getting 'your pretty skirt, Tyler!' dirty," Tyler started, brushing his fingers over Josh's peck. It wasn't in an intimate way, more of a subconscious action.
"When I turned fourteen I met this kid, Mikey, in high school. His sibling was transgender, only male to female. Went from Gerard to Gemma," the name tickled the back of Josh's mind, but he couldn't for the life of him remember why. Not that he cared about anything other than Tyler's word right now.
"I wanted to be Tyler Robert instead of Robin, my family believed it to be a phase, but it was who I was - am. I moved out at eighteen and rarely talked to my family unless I was forced too. Got top surgery at twenty-one, wearing binders hurt, though I sometimes wear them when I feel less... masculine I guess you could say," Tyler trailed off, letting his fingers play with Josh's happy trail, plucking a hair here and there. Josh's muscles contracted with each pluck, but he didn't stop Tyler.
"Do you feel less masculine often?" Josh asked, speaking for the first time in twenty minutes. Tyler had paused in his story, plucking at the hairs on Josh's chest and stomach absentmindedly.
"No, not really... Sometimes on my, um, period or if I think about the past. I'm pretty confident in my body, though having a vagina sometimes messes with my head..." Tyler admitted, humming softly when Josh's hand came up to rub his calf gently, blunt fingernails dragging through the body hair found there.
"And have you thought of bottom surgery?" Josh prodded nervously, not wanting to be insensitive. Tyler's lips quirked into a smile at the question, tilting his head up to finally look at Josh.
"Yeah, and I think I'll pass on that part. Besides vaginal sex feels better than anal," Tyler giggled softly, Josh pulling him closer. He loved seeing Tyler smile and giggle.
"I understand if you are not into it and want to like break up," Tyler whispered, his smile suddenly gone and the insecurity showing on his face once more. Josh shifted Tyler so he was straddling his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist.
"Honey, I wouldn't leave your side even if you were asexual. I'd love anything between your legs, even if it had something to do with tentacles." Tyler pushed him playfully at that, a small smile on his lips.
"And you wanna know something else?" Tyler nodded his head, biting his lip in a way that made Josh wanna flip them over and fuck him into the mattress.
"My dream was about playing with your clit and listening to your little noises that I am sure you make," Josh watched as Tyler's face turned red and didn't miss the subtle jerk his hips gave, seeking friction probably. Josh grinned at his boyfriend, patting his backside for a quick second and sitting back against the headboard.
"You dream about playing with my clit?" The word coming out of Tyler's mouth could have made Josh cum instantly if he was a teenager. Tyler did not like cursing, especially with Olivia in the house, so to hear such dirty words fall from his lips was hot.
Josh nodded his head, holding Tyler's hips tightly so he couldn't move them. Tyler huffed at him and they continued their conversation. Tyler's eyes widened when Josh revealed what he had told his family and burst into laughs that wracked his entire body. The both agreed never to call Tyler's bottom anatomy a cock ever again. Josh thumbed Tyler's hips, a lull in their conversation, one thought wracking his head over and over again.
"Hey Ty, how come you didn't want to tell me?" Josh finally asked, Tyler sighing, but he knew it was coming. He just didn't want to try an explain and hurt Josh's feelings.
"Protecting myself I guess? I didn't think you would come to mean so much to me or that I would ever meet you in person and here you are. I tried so many times to tell you that I was trans. How you didn't figure it out I will never know, missed health class baby?" Tyler teased, Josh knocking him off his lap. The teacher laughed and climbed back on top of his boyfriend.
"Plus I had bad relationships in the past where they find out I'm trans and say they are okay with it, but it was never long before they started to call me a sissy or a female or something like that. I didn't want you to be like that," Tyler whispered, wrapping his arms around Josh's neck. The older man rubbed his back and leaned up to press his lips to his briefly.
"I'd never hurt you or treat you different Ty. I actually dated a transgender woman in high school, couldn't figure it out then either," Tyler grinned at him, Josh rolling his eyes.
"But I had no problem with her, my problem was how people treated her when they found out. I wish with everything in me that I had been able to show her that I wasn't like the others. I'll spend my life showing you just how much you mean to me, how much you mean to my daughter Ty. I love you so much and that isn't going to change. Even if you turned out to be a killer."
Tyler's eyes were watering at Josh's admission, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
"I love you too sugar," Tyler whispered, pressing their lips together. Josh grinned into the kiss, flipping them so Tyler was on his back. The older man swallowed the younger's gasp, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Josh pulled back from the kiss, leaving Tyler breathless as he kissed down his jaw and towards his ear.
"Let me show you how much you mean to me, baby boy."
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Word Count: 1,733
i hope you guys enjoyed this! let me know your favorite part(s)! send me some cute ideas for fluffy chapters please!
until next time,
stay alive sunshines
- courtney xox
#joshler#josh dun#tyler joseph#twenty one pilots#top#fanfiction#gay fanfiction#secret keeprs#scarycis#writing
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The Gender Tag
I thought this could be fun. I know, I know I am really late to the party... but that’s ok :). I’ve only just begun to dive into gender so this is all new to me and I’m excited so let’s do this!
Q. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that definition mean to you?
A. I would identify as genderfluid, but also have just become aware of the term transmasculine. Genderfluid means, to me, that I fluctuate between the opposite ends of the gender spectrum. One day I feel far more masculine but I don’t have a problem with looking beautiful as a women either. This is where the term transmasculine might serve more purpose for me. However, right now in this moment I prefer to masculinize myself over feminize. I am much more overall comfortable and confident with myself when I present more masculine despite being born a female.
Q. What pronouns honor you?
A. This is tough for me right now. I would say I prefer either she/her or he/him over they/them. For me personally they/them feels impersonal. I have not asked anyone to change or use he/him when referring to me but I often refer to myself as he/him (I tend to use words like boi and bro when referring to myself. I don’t feel that right now it is a big problem for others to continue with she/her. I do not like being called a woman though, I don’t like the word woman, and I can’t explain why. That being said I don’t know that I want to be called a man either. This is obviously something I am still trying to work through myself, so what a long answer. In a perfect world it would be cool if everyone could tell what gender I was representing on any given day and choose the appropriate pronouns, but they aren’t a huge deal to me. Right now anyway.
Q. Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear.
A. T-shirts and jeans or shorts, tennis shoes. I’m in the process of amping up my wardrobe to fit what I see in my head. I’ve been wearing bro tanks and khaki colored knee length shorts for the summer, some casual dude shoes or flip flops from the guys section. I’ve realized how much I love bow ties and neckties and have begun a collection of them, and would like to grow my button up shirt collection. I bought some very sleek men’s dress shoes too. I want my clothing to be the definition of dapper. Gentlemanly.
Q. Body hair... how do you style your hair, do you have facial hair, and what do you choose to shave and not to shave?
A. Right now my hair on my head is tall on top and shorter on the sides. I’m trying to figure out how I want to deal with it haha. I either just toss a hat on my head or comb it over and throw some Old Spice Fiberwax in it to add volume.
I don’t have facial hair because, well, none grows there. I wonder if I would look cool with a beard? Idk, I have never thought about that... but I’d need some help from T for that.
I like to have clean shaven legs and armpits. I’ve tried growing both out but I just get so uncomfortable and itchy, I can’t get myself past the itchy stage. I’ve always liked the idea of being able to be more free with that but the discomfort is too much for me to handle. I don’t shave above my knee though, and that means I don’t shave my junk. I remember trying to shave that area when it first started to grow but, I hated it so I just let it go. Needless to say it's probably been 8-10 years since I’ve done anything with that.
Q. Do you choose to wear makeup? Paint your nails? What types of soaps and perfumes do you use?
A. I didn’t wear makeup until I came to college. I finally starting learning my freshman year and tried to wear it as expected. But I hated how dirty in made my skin feel. How cakey and greasy. And there is a particular smell to a full face of makeup that I just hate. So gradually I quite and now four years later I am back to not really ever reaching for makeup. I take pride in the fact that I am comfortable without it. Occasionally I like to dabble with it though, it’s a fun hobby but not a necessity.
I don’t paint my nails any more either. I used to a lot but it was so much work that never lasted long enough for it to be worth it. So now I am in love with my natural nails and I have a hard time thinking about painting over them, they are healthy, no need to change them.
I’ve switched to men’s soap in the shower, a matter of fact I made the bold switch to cheap 3-in-1 soap so I don’t even buy shampoo and conditioner and body soap any more, I just use all the same stuff from one bottle. I do have a wide selection of perfumes as I wen t through a bath and body perfume phase a coupe of years ago but have faded out the use of those over time too. I bought a cologne that I wear on “special” occasions, and I tend to use men’s deodorant (IT WORKS BETTER, and smells tasty too).
Q. Have you experienced being misgendered? If so how often?
A. I experienced this for the first time about two weeks ago! I wear swim trunks and a tank to the pool and I was climbing out of the pool and a guy was walking past and he nodded and said “what’s up man?” This caught me off guard but I kind of liked it. Because he perceived me as a male instead of a female which has never happened before, which means I was passing as I was expressing to an extent and that was a really epic feeling. A little kid once called me sir due to my short hair but his mom was quick to correct him saying that I was a lady. I didn’t like that.
Q. Do you experience dysphoria? How does that affect you?
A. I wouldn’t say I really experience dysphoria. But I do experience a lot of euphoria. When I am going about my life as a female I don’t excessively hate any of my parts. I don’t experience feeling disconnected with my anatomy. However, when I pack, I feel absolutely on top of this world. I am far more confident in myself and more courageous. And it has only been the last couple of months where when I am packing I wish so badly that I had a binder, to simply complete the feeling, the whole desired expression. But when I don’t pack I don’t feel any less than I am which I am very thankful for.
Q. Children, are you interested? Would you want to carry a child if that were an option for you? Do you want to be the primary caretaker for any children you may have?
A. Children is the hardest question ever!! I still feel confused about whether or not I want them. I’ve always felt like I would want to carry a baby, to experience that intense connection with a human being for 9 months, I’ve always thought that I would like to understand what it is like to be pregnant. But I’ve never really seen myself keeping it (like maybe I carried it as a surrogate or something). I’ve never felt very comfortable around kids, I don’t know how to act or talk or simply be with kids without feeling an insane amount of awkward. I don’t know why this is the case I have four younger siblings I should be comfortable.
I don’t think I would resent having a kid if it happened, especially if it was with a long term partner, the thought of a small family is something I have always loved but just never decided if it was really what I want. Maybe fur babies??? ;)
If I did have my own kids of course I would want to be the primary caretaker, well me and my partner together. I would want to be able to support them and love them and teach them and watch them grow everyday.
Q. Is it important to you to provide for a family financially if you choose to have one? Is it important to you that you earn more than any partner you may have? Do you prefer to pay for things like dates? Are you uncomfortable when others pay for you or offer to pay for you?
A. Money isn’t as important to me as it probably should be. I have always wanted to put love first. I believe that with love, you have everything. But if I did have a family absolutely I would want to be able to provide for them. I would want to be able to spoil them and surprise them. I would want to be able to set up autopay for my bills because I had money left over every month and never have to worry about waiting for the next paycheck before I could pay the electric bill.
I don’t care who makes more money, that shouldn’t matter, setting unfair pay based on gender aside... I don’t like that competition.
I wouldn’t say I prefer to pay for dates, I like to take turns. If the date was my idea I pay, your idea? You pay. Evening stuff like that out I think is important. And yes I am uncomfortable when someone offers to pay for me, and that goes for EVERYONE, even my grandparents. I want to pay sometimes, again, let’s even things out. I always feel obligated to pay back.
Q. Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?
A. I didn’t even realize I needed to step back and look at gender until a year and a half ago. And now that I have, I fell so proud of myself. I’ve made baby steps to feeling more comfortable in my own skin. I have realized that I don’t need to be so concerned with what others think, I am me and that is truly all that matters. I have never felt so confident. I am talking to strangers, I’m sharing love with people when I used to feel the need to bottle it up and save for very specific people. But everyone is deserving of love.
I keep saying I feel my heart has grown three sizes sense I started looking at my gender. I feel more open and accepting than I ever have before and that is liberating. I’m sharing more and more of myself with people when I’ve always been so, so shy and quiet. I’m letting people in and I’m allowing myself to form in the public eye and I’ve just never felt so excited!
I’ve realized that I simply want to be a gentleman, so that is just what I will be.
#gendertag#the gender tag#2018#gender#fluid#genderfluid#q and a#transmasculine#exploring#building confidence#pansexual
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Not the Right Time Fanfiction!
I was on @if-trash-could-speak blog and saw all of these Pyronica X Bill talks and had to make a fanfiction! I'm warning you, English is not my first language so it might sound weird. Please enjoy! (The words in the * * are Ford's thoughts) ~~~~~ Ford gasped as cyan chains grasped his neck and legs. He felt himself being pulled off the ground and levitating in front of his enemy, Bill Cipher. Ford tried to grab at the chains around his neck, they were cool to the touch. “YOU'RE MAKING THIS SO MUCH HARDER THEN IT NEEDS TO BE.” Bill said in his shrill voice, swirling his ‘margarita’. The purple drink smelt like blood and sulphur, it made his eyes burn. “EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS TOUGH GUY! I’LL MAKE YOU TALK, IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIM-” Bill stopped talking and looked away from Ford. His eye twitched but he didn't seem to be looking at anything that Ford could see. Maybe he was listening for something? *What are you doing Cipher?* Suddenly, he heard it. Large thumps coming from the other side of a Fearamid. It was getting louder and Ford could hear a gravely voice saying some gibberish. *Must be one of his ‘Henchmaniacs’ as he calls them.* Ford looked at Bill and could clearly see confusion in his eye. Suddenly, it cleared, as if he recognized that awful voice from the hall. Bill groaned and looked back at Ford. “DON’T TRY ANYTHING FORDSY. I’LL BE RIGGHHHTTT BACK.” He said in a singsong voice as he floated towards a door that was behind Ford. It must've been the entrance to his penthouse. Bill brushed against his arm while walking past the old man, it made the appendage numb. Ford drew back a bit and watched Bill disappear in a blue light. He reached up with his hands and tried to pry his neck chain off. He failed. He let his hands dangle and looked around the room. It sure screamed Bill. Especially that picture of the triangle wearing a crown and stepping on Earth. It showed him as he truly was. An egotistical bastard. Ford sighed and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he heard Bill return and he was jerked awake. The room was empty but when Ford turned he saw Bill enter the room from the door. He seemed pissed. “What was it?” Ford said in a confident voice. Bill looked at Ford with confusion, as if he forgot the conversation they just had. He blinked his one eye and looked at the chains he casted on the human. “YOU WOULD LOVE TO KNOW, WOULDN'T YOU SIXER?” The triangle sneered. “NOW WHERE WERE WE…” Bill floated closer to Ford, his dark cartoony hands crackled with electricity. Ford was about to resort with a defence when he heard the loud thumping noise again. This time closer. Bill’s eye turned red and he clenched his fists. “I SWEAR IF THAT IS KRYPTOS AND 8-BALL FIGHTING AGAIN I WILL TURN THEM INTO CONDYLURA CRISTATAS.” The triangle mumbled. Even when taking quietly, Ford couldn't stand his annoying voice. The thumping grew louder and faster, till it was outside the door. Ford saw Bill look over to the entrance and widen his eye. It flashed from red to the regular split pupil. He looked… uncomfortable? *Bill being uncomfortable?! What in the world could make Bill freaking Cipher uncomfortable?* He didn't want to know. Ford looked over his own shoulder and recognized the monster immediately. The Henchmaniac was over seven feet tall and bright neon pink. It had an ‘humanoid’ body with a round head, flaming limbs, messy short pink hair, huge horns, large lips, and one huge eye. It was Pyronica, he remembered her from the nightmare realm. In her fire arms, she held a large dirty white binder that had burns and teeth marks in it’s cover. “Heya Eye Candy! I got the pictures I needed to get!” Pyronica exclaimed in a gravely voice. She opened the binder, showing it was filled with pictures of dead bodies and ancient temples. “I needed Kryptos to do it. He didn't want to but once I showed him a meant business, he was happy to help!” She said, fluttering her one eye. The iris was red. “RONNIE, I'M KINDA IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING.” Bill said, only letting a inch of irritation into his voice. *Eye Candy? Ronnie? Jesus christ I don't want to hear Bill and this practically nude monster chit chat!* As the two monsters spoke, Ford tried to wiggle out of his chains. “Oh! Who is this cutie wootie!” Pyronica cooed, stepping up to Ford. “Hey! It’s the guy that Bill wanted to catch.” She said in a giddy voice. “I thought you turned him into gold, my little angle.” She said, turning to Bill. He looked liked he recovered from her barge in. “HE KNOWS SOMETHING WE NEED IF WE ARE GOING DOWN THIS WORLD DOMINATION ROUTE.” Bill explained. “ONLY THE DIMWIT WON'T TELL ME!” Bill sighed and itched his one large eye. “I WAS ABOUT TO SHOCK THE ANSWER OUT OF HIM BEFORE YOU CAME IN.” “Personally, I prefered him when he was gold…” She said gruffly, patting Ford's back. He expected her fiery hand to burn his trench coat and back. It cooled him instead. “Anyway!” She stepped closer to Bill and he floated back. “I got these cool pictures of places where we can visit after we get out of here!” She opened her binder and turned to the back. She walked back over to Bill and showed him. “Here is Palenque! I heard the humans that used to live there tasted great!” Pyronica said cheerfully. Bill, now getting into it, floated closer to the binder, and looked at the picture of Palenque. “I HAD HAUNTED A COUPLE PEOPLE THERE ONCE. FOR SOME REASON THE PEOPLE THAT LIVED THERE LEFT A SHORT TIME AFTER AND NEVER CAME BACK.” Bill eye seemed to be somewhere else for a second before going back to the binder. “THEY BUILT THESE TEMPLES THAT LOOK LIKE ME AND NAMED IT AFTER THEMSELVES! RUDE IF I SAY SO MYSELF. STILL, IT WAS A PRETTY GOOD TRIBUTE.” Pyronica smiled and turned to look at him. “Were those the people that insisted you press a wooden board against your forehead to make you look more beautiful.” Pyronica smirked, her bucked teeth and fangs poked out. Bill laughed, it made Ford cringe. He hated that laugh. “I SAID I LIKED THEIR TRIBUTE, I NEVER SAID THEY WERE SMART.” Pyronica rolled her eye playfully and looked back at the binder. She pointed one of her flaming fingers to a picture Ford couldn't see. The six fingered human realized his chains were suddenly looser. Bill must be distracted. “Going here would be cool! Only 8-BALL said it rained crazily, and I really don't want my hair to be ruined.” Bill scoffed and pointed to a picture in the binder. “WHY DID YOU PUT A VOLCANO IN HERE?” “Well, I thought we could have a hot tub party here, like what we did with Pompeii!” Pyronica seemed oblivious to the, again, uncomfortable Bill. “YEAH, WE PROBABLY SHOULDN'T OF TURNED ON THOSE JETS.” “Please, you know you turned them on. Even if it wasn't on purpose.” She laughed. “I must’ve gotten you riled up or something!” Pyronica and Bill shared a glance and the triangle quickly looked away. His pupil was about half the size it was usually. Ford, who at the moment was trying very hard not to laugh, met eyes with Bill. The demon’s form flickered red for a few seconds before going back to Pyronica. Ford gasped as his chains tightened sickeningly around his neck and legs. Bill looked at Pyronica and closed the binder shut with his magic. “SORRY TOTS, THIS WAS FUN, BUT I'VE GOT TWINS TO TORTURE AND BUBBLES TO POP.” Bill said smoothly, seemingly over his awkward feelings. “WHY DON'T YOU TALK TO ME LATER, AFTER I OPEN THIS IDIOT'S BRAIN AND FIND THE EQUATION I NEED.” Bill glanced at Ford. “FOR NOW, WHY DON'T YOU GO EAT KRYPTOS OR TEETH?” Pyronica grinned and nodded. “Sure thang boss man!” She sang swiftly. Her gruff singing voice sounded ok but then again, Ford just heard Bill sing earlier so everything sounded alright after that. She patted Bill on the top hat, blew a kiss to Ford, and thundered out of the suite. Bill’s body glowed light blue and he readjusted his hat. Ford remembered once trying to touch the infamous top hat during their researching in Ford’s dreams. He would never forget the look of pure death Bill gave him. He was surprised she survived touching his hat, you would think it's his child. “NOW THAT THAT’S GONE, IT'S TIME FOR TORTURE THE FORDSY. WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE CLASSIC WATERBOARDING, OR PERHAPS 500 VOLTS OF ELECTRICITY.” Bill looked at Ford with a cocky expression. He expected to see a terrified face but instead got a face trying to hold back laughter. Bill’s form shimmered red. “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!” The one eyed demon growled. “Why wouldn't I be?” Ford chuckled, ignoring the pressure from the chains on his neck. “The all so clever, smooth talking, deal making Bill Cipher just got flustered over a freaking pink highlighter!” As the moment got longer, Ford laughed harder, and angrier Bill got. The now red and black demon grabbed the chains around Ford’s neck and legs and held him up to his eye. “500 VOLTS IT IS.”
#my poor attempt#fanfiction#bill cipher#pyronica#Ford#gravity falls#Billronica#ship#if-trash-could-speak
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320 State Street- 2 (April 15)
AO3 | FF.Net
Part 1
“Wait a second, these lightbulbs are on sale!”
It was 1:45. Astrid walked into her new job, head held high. Hiccup was at the counter, his face slightly flushed as a tall black man loomed over him with a receipt.
“…they didn’t ring up on sale, did you grab the right ones?”
“Yeah! You should know your own ads!”
Wordlessly, Hiccup grabbed a binder from under the counter and flipped through it easily. “Oh, I see. They’re on sale if you buy ‘Hansen’s’ brand drain cleaner with them.”
“Oh.”
“…would you like to buy some drain cleaner?”
“Will I get these on sale then?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll do that.” And he went back into the store.
“Hey,” Astrid greeted.
“Oh, hi!” He grinned, his braces glittering in the florescent light. “You’re here early.”
“I got out of class early, and had nothing better to do.”
The customer returned. “Does it matter what size I get?”
“Uh,” Hiccup glanced at the ad again. “It says 32 oz. So, the smaller one.”
“Okay,” and again, he disappeared.
“Is this okay to wear? Or do you have a uniform?” She asked, gesturing to herself. She wore a red blouse with a gray mini skirt over blue, floral print leggings and white sneakers.
“Yeah, you look cute!” He colored. “Pretty! Nice! You look nice…there’s no uniform.” Then he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “But you do get a name tag.”
She smirked.
The man returned with his drain cleaner.
“So,” Hiccup continued, “I’ll start training you in a second, but why don’t you come back here and watch this?”
“Okay.”
The customer finished his purchase, buying two cases of lightbulbs and got 2 dollars off as a discount, but then spent 4 bucks on the drain cleaner. So in the end, he paid more for something he didn’t need.
“Thanks for coming in, and have a nice day!”
The bell on top of the door jingled as he left.
“I saw that going really badly, like, nightmares for weeks badly, but you handled it pretty well.” Astrid admitted.
“Our customers, ninety percent of time, are really cool and know what their doing, usually they’re regulars. But…sometimes we get in some really weird people? How-How good are your customer service skills?” He asked, nervously.
She smiled, pleasantly. “I’ve been around the block. You just show me how to use the register and what my duties are.”
He sighed in relief. “Good! Okay, so…” He patted the side of the register, which looked like a computer purchased from Goodwill for $20. “Everything is super easy. When a customer brings up an item, it will have a number on it written with sharpie. All you have to do is type that number into this little box,” he pointed to the bottom of the screen, “and then click enter.”
Astrid frowned. “…so you guys don’t have a barcode reader?”
“Nope.” He grinned, “and it used to be infinitely worse.” He pulled out another binder from under the counter. This one was much thicker, with yellowed pages and worn corners. Inside, each page had about fifty rows, with dozens of numbers. “This is what we used to use. And to some extent we still do. If you type something in and it doesn’t come up, you can look in here or radio me or Gobber.”
“Seems simple.” She shrugged.
“On Saturday nights, Gobber and I stay and enter promotions and sales, so they should automatically apply once you type in a number.”
“Nice! Is this a new thing too?”
“You don’t even want to know how complicated it was before. We’ve had this register for about a year now, but before that, we had to use that super antique one.” He pointed to a machine at the other end of the counter that looked like a typewriter. “The only reason Alvin upgraded was because, well A, it stopped working, and B, it wasn’t compatible with the credit card machine.” He pointed to the little key pad attached to the front of the register. “And we are chip card ready.”
Astrid laughed, “you guys have a chip reader?!”
“Crazy huh? And yes, you will have to correct everyone when they swipe their card, cause people can’t read the twenty signs we have.”
“Oh yeah, I know the struggle of The Chip.”
He laughed along with her. “Once you ring up all the items, press the + key, and then wait for payment.”
“Cool.”
“Easy peasy?”
“Easy peasy.”
Hiccup showed her some other little details before the door rang.
“Hello!” Hiccup greeted, turning to the interloper. “Oh, Tuff. Welcome back. You’re just in time. I’m training Astrid.”
“Who?” Asked the delivery driver, his pinky in his ear. “Oh! You mean Rat Bastard!”
“What?” Bit Astrid.
Tuff leaned on the counter, his long, matted blonde hair falling over his shoulder. “Yeah, Rat Bastard. That was the first thing you purchased! That’s how I come up with everyone’s nickname.”
She narrowed her eyes, “And Hiccup?”
“He was here before me, had to come up with something else.”
“I’ll pass on the name.”
“Too late! I already told everyone to call you that. Right Hiccup?”
He shrugged, “I missed that memo…and I don’t think having a swear word as a nickname is a good idea.”
Tuff laughed, “Oh boy, have I got a thing to tell you about the name ‘Dick’.”
Astrid interrupted, “my nickname in high school was ‘Hoff’, you can call me that, if you must.”
“Hoff! I like it!”
“Now that you’re here,” Hiccup added. “You can watch the register while I give Astrid a brief tour.”
“‘kay.” He pulled his phone out.
Astrid leaned closer and whispered, “are you going to let him do that?”
“Trust me, it’s better that way.” Then he headed towards a door in the back, “I’ll show you the stockroom/breakroom.”
—
If she thought the front part of the store was bad, then the back was like walking into the aftermath of a hurricane. “How do you guys find anything back here?” She asked honestly, if not a little amazed.
“We don’t.” He shrugged. “Which again, is why we hired you, so I can start to organize this. It took me long enough to copy that book down digitally so it was easier to purchase something.”
“You did that?”
“Yep! Gobber doesn’t know anything about computers.”
“Oh boy.”
He gestured to the various shelves crammed with odds and ends. “You don’t have to worry about this stuff. But, as a cashier, you will need to keep the candy, pop, and ice cream stocked.” He pointed to the side wall where a bookshelf housed the product. A walk in freezer was built into the wall, and it looked ancient.
“We sell ice cream?”
“Yeah, it’s one of those chest freezers with Häagen-Dazs in it. It’s next to the pop.”
“Must have missed it. Do we sell a lot?”
“In the summer. Gobber eats most of it the rest of year.”
She chuckled.
“And this isn’t actually one of your duties, but you know all the little drawers behind the register?”
“Yeah?”
“They have nuts, bolts, screws…all that kind of stuff. They’re all labelled, but I’ll give you a box of various fasteners and then slowly through the day, when no one is here, if you could put them away, that would really help me out.”
“Oh sure, that’s no problem. It beats standing around waiting.”
“And you’ll be able to help customers more when someone asks for something.”
She nodded in understanding.
“Okay, so over here is the break room.” He guided her an industrial sized shelving unit. While the top housed all sorts of merchandise, the bottom most rung held two couches, a mini fridge, and a microwave.
“Is this safe?” She asked skeptically.
“Probably.” He shrugged. “If it hasn’t fallen yet, it’s probably okay, just don’t climb on the top and start jumping.
“OSHA probably doesn’t come here very often…huh?”
“What’s OSHA?”
“Something something safety and health administration.”
“Oh…yeah no. I’m surprised this place is still in business.”
“Do I have a locker?”
“Sort of…” He stated, beckoning her to a closet in the corner. “We each have a designated coat hook and cubby underneath. You can thank me for that. This room just used to be full of Gobber’s dirty clothes.”
“Ew.”
“So I put my foot down and packed it all up and threw it away. To this day I don’t think he’s noticed.”
“So, you really are the Prince.”
He rolled his eyes, “if anything I’d be the Jarl or something.”
“So…am I going to have to do those dumb training videos? You know, the ones where they tell you not to play football in the store?”
“Astrid, we have a common sense policy. It if seems like something you shouldn’t do. Don’t do it.”
“Fair enough.”
“Let me clarify, if it seems like something Tuff would enjoy, don’t do it.”
She laughed. “Okay, that makes perfect sense.”
“And, before I forget…” He gestured with his hand to follow and went to an office filled with papers. “Wait here, I don’t want you to get caught in an avalanche.” He dug around for a little bit. “Now where did he—dang it I just had it yesterday…” He threw a stack of papers on the floor. “Don’t need those anymore…AH HA!” And he pulled out a little name tag. “Here you go!”
She glanced at it. “You spelled my name wrong.”
“Oh what?!” He snatched it back.
“Just kidding,” she cheeked.
“I’ve got my eye on you, cashier.”
She grinned.
Then he put his hand on a door next to the office. “This is the bathroom. Do not use it.”
“What, is it broken or something?”
He shook his head, “oh it works just fine, but every time I try to clean it, I just end up throwing up instead, and I don’t have a weak stomach.”
She grimaced.
“If you have to use the bathroom, Fishlegs will let you use the one at the computer store. And trust me, it’s the best way to go.” He started back to the front of the shop. “Alright, that’s about it. For the first couple of days, I’ll hang out with you at the register, so you have someone to ask questions too.”
“It seems pretty easy.”
“And, it’s only April. We’ll get busier next month.”
He opened the door to find Tuff standing on the glass counter, balancing a hammer on his forehead.
“Tuff!”
The hammer fell to the ground with a clang. “Oh dude, you made me lose my concentration.”
—
‘Not too busy’ was an understatement. An hour had passed without a customer. Hiccup and Astrid both sat behind the counter with superficial conversation while Tuff continued to balance the hammer.
“So…nursing, huh?”
“Yeah, second semester.”
“Where at?”
“LMC.”
“Oh hey! Me too!”
She furrowed her brow, “you’re in nursing? I’ve never seen you.”
“Oh…No no,” he shook his head, “I mean I go to LMC, I’m in Engineering Technology…well, Industrial Design.”
She blinked a couple times, “So…designing machines?”
“Yes, but I have a focus on prosthetics.”
“Oh that’s nice. Are you doing this for Gobber, or do you know someone with an amputation?”
“Uh…” he looked down and his feet.
Astrid followed his line of gaze to see his left leg, or lack of one, missing right below the knee. Instead, there was a stylish, twisted cage of steel running down his shin with a flat hook for a foot.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t even notice!”
He simpered, “well, its better than you overly noticing.”
“I guess I just only saw you yesterday behind the counter…wow, I’m usually more perceptive than that.”
He waved his hand, “don’t even worry about it, Tuff didn’t realize it until my last prototype got caught on the floor and popped off. He thought I broke my leg and the rest of it broke through the floorboards.”
“In my defense,” called Tuff, now balancing the hammer on his hand, “how often do you look at a man’s shoes?”
“How fortunate for you,” Astrid stated to Hiccup, “that boot is hideous.”
“What? No it’s not! I got it—them from Cabela’s!”
“Cabela’s?! That’s a hunting store! How on earth are you going to get a girlfriend if you wear a hunting boot to work?”
He blushed. “Who said I didn’t have a girlfriend?”
“Oh…do you?”
“…No, but I could if I wanted to! I just…haven’t found the right girl yet.”
“Well, how do you know if she’s the right girl if you don’t ask her out?”
He snippily replied, “ever heard of a thing called friendship?”
“Touche.”
“What about you, Astrid? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Oh.” He sounded ever so slightly disappointed.
“His name is Scott and he’s—…” How to adequately describe Scott Loud, the man who currently held the title of ‘boyfriend’ in her life? Some things had changed in the last year, and in honesty, she wasn’t quite sure she could say he was still the same, funny, sweet, pig-headed, boy she had known two years ago. In fact, she’d go as far to say—no, that wasn’t polite to say out loud. Especially to a stranger, so she simply stated, “he’s a good one.”
He picked up on her hesitation immediately, but decidedly didn’t comment.
Tuff became the source of entertainment as his balancing act became a juggling act. Astrid would have been nervous, if the merchandise around him had been breakable, but as it was…it was probably fine.
“So…” most of these conversations with her new co-worker started like that. She used to like silence, but with this guy, silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Not yet. “How’d you lose it?”
“Hm?”
“Your leg. What happened?”
“Pygmies in Africa.”
Tuff laughed, faltering with his juggling. “Don’t count on the right answer Astrid, he doesn’t like to talk about it!”
“I’m sorry,” she blanched. “Curiosity killed the cat, right?”
The door rang.
“Hello!” Astrid greeted.
A young man was at the door. Maybe as tall as he was wide. His short blonde hair was tucked under his baseball cap as he held a backpack on his shoulder.
“Hey Fishlegs.” Both Hiccup and Tuff called.
“Hey guys,” he responded coming fully into the shop. “And…Astrid? Astrid Hofferson?”
“That’s me,” she shrugged. “Wait, I know you…you’re Jacob…Ingerman? Right?”
“Yep! We were partners in chemistry! It’s been a while! What are you doing here? I thought you got some amazing scholarship and went to Harvard?”
“No way! Harvard is way too hard to get into!” She laughed, “I went to Yale.”
Hiccup gaped at her. “You went to Yale? And you couldn’t get a job anywhere?”
She shrugged, a solemn look ghosting over her face. “I only went one year. My scholarship ran out…among other things. So yeah, I’ve been back in the area for a year now. I’m in nursing.”
“Whoa, bummer,” Fishlegs offered.
“So what about you? I thought you were working at your Uncle’s computer store?”
“I am! Hiccup and I carpool into town, since we live in the same neighborhood. We close at 6 though, so I come here and hang out.”
“Oh my god, it’s 6 o’clock already?” Astrid turned to look for a clock. There was one wedged in the space of a support beam by the ceiling.
“Time really flies when you’re having fun, huh?” Tuff called back, then dropped one of his hammers. Then the rest fell with a clatter. “Oh geez!”
“Tuff, are you sure Gobber doesn’t have any more deliveries for you?”
“Yep! Made all of them this morning in one trip. I had the truck today.”
Astrid smiled to herself, “this is great.” She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but she didn’t regret it.
“Huh?” Hiccup asked back.
“I’ve been in and out of jobs. Some retail, some food…and each time I never really connected with my co-workers. I don’t know why. But…I really like it here. I know it’s the first day and all…but I think an eclectic store out of the way was just what I needed.”
Hiccup grinned, “Aw, you don’t mind befriending a bunch of nerds?”
“And a pothead!” Called back Tuff.
“Oh man, Tuff, I thought we talked about this!”
“We did, my prince, but I promised to not smoke on Sundays before church, and before or during work. I am just, unfortunately, a slave to the good kush. I might be hopeless, but I’m not a liar.”
“Hopeless is accurate.” Hiccup shook his head.
—
The last two hours went well. Collectively, two boxes of screws were sorted and another dent was added to the hardwood floor. Those tax forms were finally filled out, though Astrid wondered if Gobber was actually going to use them.
After clocking out, Astrid bid adieu to her new friends and headed home.
Getting in her jeep, she checked her phone. Hiccup hadn’t said it was prohibited during work, but old habits die hard. There was one message from Ruff.
Nothing from Scott.
She called him yesterday, but hadn’t really talked to him in days. And the last time wasn’t under great circumstances. She tried again.
The dial tone rang in her ear, until finally, “yeah?”
“Hey honey!” She sang, her day was really great, and she couldn’t wait to tell him about it. “So I had my first day at work today.”
“What? First day?”
“Yeah, I tried to tell you yesterday, but you hung up on me.”
“Yeah, sorry. But this is a bad time. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
“I’m…busy.”
This was getting old. “You’re always busy. I’m your girlfriend! We should be communicating! I want to hear about your day!”
“Later. Just…text me next time, okay?”
Her heart was sinking, “but I miss you.”
“I’ll tell you what, we’ll go out for dinner on Sunday night, okay?”
“You mean it this time?”
“I promise.”
She sighed. “Okay, it’s a date. Love you.”
The phone beeped. He hung up.
Astrid stared at the device like it had personally done her harm. Scott was notorious when it came to forgetting dates. Or ditching her at the last second. It had been like this for far too long.
She started her car. “I should just dump him.” But then she would be all alone. And she kind of owed it to him to stick it out, at least until she paid him back.
And who knows how angry he’d get if she called it quits. She’d rather be forgotten, than be in a room with him angry.
Astrid drove home. Her jeep humming and whining all the way. “Come on girl, I just need you to keep holding out.”
She parked off the street, and made her way to her crappy little two bedroom apartment. She could smell her roommate’s candles from here. She undid the three locks on the door and walked inside. It was hardly dark outside, but every light in the apartment was on.
Couldn’t be good for the electricity bill.
“Stormfly! Here girl!”
Her bird was quiet.
“Hey Alison?” She called to her roommate as she put her coat away.
The woman in question came out of her room, completely naked. Astrid was, unfortunately, used to this. “I put your bird in it’s cage.”
“When?”
“Noon.”
“At noon? Did you make sure she had food and water before you did that?”
“I’m not your bird’s keeper.” And she ghosted back from whence she came.
Astrid hurried into her dark room where the cage sat in the corner. The pretty blue and yellow Macaw was huddled in the corner with it’s eyes closed. “Stormfly,” she whispered. “I’m home! Are you hungry?”
The bird puffed up slightly and squawked.
“Atta girl! There’s my Stormfly!”
The Macaw hopped out of the cage and on to Astrid’s arm.
“I’m sorry I had to leave you alone all day! I know it’s no fun! But in a few days, we’ll go see grandpa! Won’t that be fun?”
“Go see Grandpa! Go see Grandpa!”
Astrid smiled, “So…I had a weirdly great first day at work…”
#httyd#how to train your dragon#Astrid Hofferson#hiccup horrendous haddock iii#modern au#fanfiction#fanfic#320 State Street
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A bit of a dark thought but
Tw: sexism, politics, death, rape, rant, kink. Unedited, straight from my brain, what I think should be things that exist. Tl;dr: Bad and hateful people deserve what they wish given to innocent people, men rock dresses and makeup, women rock hairy legs and comfortable clothes, money should be earned equally and given to those who need it, males with a lot of estrogen are hot, and men's underwear has material needed to stick things to it that women's underwear don't because obviously men need feminine hygiene products more. If the amount of people the Alt-Right/Nazis want to die (minorities, women, poor people, suppressed people in general) ended up being the number of Alt-Righters/Nazis set to die a week from today, how many would stay committed to hating everyone and die at the end of the week, how many would take it as a sign from God that hate brings about damnation? And if in this way, those who hate are changed to love or squashed by their own hatred, how many atheists would start to believe God exists? On a lighter note, what if the amount of unjust hate for a group of people was proportional to an invisible force weighing down a person. Like a big backpack, and if there is no hate to weigh you down, you walk free. But if there's too much hate in the backpack, that person wouldn't be able to easily move about or do things, kind of the way those who are hated can't but with less genocide. And it's up to the person who's weighed down to learn to love humans despite them acting/looking slightly different. But then I think of all the people who will purposefully hate when they're young so that they can learn to love when they're older when they need the ability to move the most :\ "I spent my entire young life hating everyone and now that I love everyone, I've never been freer!" Is kinda a half-and-half statement. On a totally different note, in Sex Ed. classes, why don't they have an extra credit bit where all the boys wear those period-simulating machines for a week to learn the pain of a female, and all the girls have to wear a sock in their underwear for a week to learn the awkwardness of a male. Maybe we'd all learn to appreciate each other this way. Also, what if instead of raising female pay to match male pay, we took the extra money men earn and give it to poor people? Specifically single mothers? If people won't raise female pay to match male pay, then why don't we just make some of the male pay mean something better? Once the men start protesting along with women, something will have to be done because God forbid a man be unaccounted for, oh and I guess that means women get more money too. Also why isn't everyone wearing the same clothes yet? Before I start this different note, why do people who make female underwear use non-stick materials while male underwear can have stuff stuck to them? Is it because they're worried that if they make women's underwear stickable, the men's underwear won't have enough stickable material for their pads which, for some odd reason, are part of a group of objects called "female hygiene products"? But when I walk into a store and I see something really cute, my first thought is how easily a bra could be seen through it, how easily nipples and jiggle could be seen through it without a bra. And then I realize that no, this white, long-sleeved shirt with sparkly, multi-color pastel hems, cuffs, and (low) collar is obviously for male wear. If you're not going to make female clothes plausible for a female to wear, why can't males buy and wear that product without being shamed for it? Why can't men wear skirts even though their packages would appreciate it? Also, males and females should be expected the same amount of effort for the same situation. None of this "You look horrible without your makeup!" bull. Either females will be respected without makeup, or males will be disrespected without it. Both of those lead to gender equality technically. Both genders should be able to wear makeup if they want to and not if they don't without being shamed. Personally, males look amazing in female clothes and anyone can be improved with a bit of makeup, and clothing should be desexualized and degendered so anyone can wear anything. We've already got that covered for females, who now are more fierce and willing stand and fight for themselves, but why do our males still have a tendency to act irrationally at times? Any time they've considered a female article of clothing, they've ejected from their mind the thought of ever wearing it. In all decisions that is the "default" state for a female, they've rejected femininity for the sake of being more "manly". But what if our men were gentle and sweet and kind and honest, the way men have historically left their women as at home as while they went off to war? What if the expectations for even something like shaving were equalized between the genders? Either men are expected to shave EVERYTHING like women are, or women are under no pressure to shave ANYTHING like men. Either the issue of men with hairy legs, armpits, chests, arms, and pubes would be resolved, or the issue of women feeling insecure for looking like men would be. Even in the first case, the second one gets resolved. What if men were raped as much as women? That's not to say I WANT that, for men to live in as much fear as women do now. I'll believe gender equality exists when the amount of men and women who get raped is the same. Women are nine times more likely to get raped. Ideally, the number of women getting raped shrinks to the same number as the amount of men who get raped. Gender equality would technically still happen if more men got raped, but no problems would be resolved because more people would get hurt and more people would be fearful. Also can someone explain why men are allowed to get their dirty votes all over women's bodies? Also can someone please explain why in female prisons, there's usually inadequate feminine products, or none at all? Yeah they've done SOMETHING to deserve prison, but being imprisoned and getting blood everywhere is entirely different than only serving the prison term that was agreed on. Why aren't people who sexually assault other people given more jailtime? If I had to choose between violation of my body and death with no way out, I would choose death. If anyone had to pick the order in which it happened, being assaulted first then killed, or killed first then assaulted, anyone would choose death first. If somebody thinks it's okay to hurt another person in that way, they deserve more than your average graffiti artist or vandal. Surely nobody thinks a wall is more important than a human being. Quality chest binders need to become normalized for anyone who wants them! Feminine products should be free (like condoms!) and ABUNDANT- It's harder to refrain from menstruation than from sex, and if a person doesn't think that and acts in ways that show it, they should be getting a lot of prison time unless their partner thinks the same way. People who aren't white should have as easy a time at getting a job as people who are white, not white criminals! In Sex Ed. classes, instead of just teaching the reproductive way of sex, they should teach about deviations from vanilla sex. All sex needs to have consent, and if it doesn't, it's rape. This applies to EVERY SESSION, including people who "like it rough". If it's not wanted, it shouldn't be done, regardless of personal interests. A kink can become something to be fearful of if the victim has lost the ability to safe word out. The people who need to know this are the judges who let rapists go free because the victim had a history of enjoying deviant practices, because that rapist most certainly is able to hear the victim taking away consent at any possible instance. If rich people aren't willing to give their money to people who need it, they don't deserve to be rich! People should be judged not by their color, orientation, gender, abilities, wealth, etc, but by how they treat other people! We should get rid of cultural defaults! This world has plagued us with cultural defaults. We're expected to be something and when we aren't, we're suddenly bad. Stop censoring from children the suffering people who look different from other people faced in the past and present! Start teaching your kids that instead of Mrs. Clause, Santa is married to the black Santa that appeared on the news! Hey hey, look at all this normalization of stuff Nazis hate happening. It's almost like you could become a good person simply by opposing the worldview of the Nazis. Either all people should be treated like the privileged class, or the privileged class should be dragged SCREAMING to the level of the suppressed, either one is technically equality. I dream of the day I can stop being ashamed of being a human being on a planet of over seven billion human beings, and I think of that as a more approachable goal than dragging those who have achieved my dream down with me. I've left a lot about many, many groups of beautiful people unsung, and for that I apologize. I've only just scratched the surface of how I feel our world could socially improve. Thank you for reading. Now run off and think about how funny a "person" who hates humans would look with the weight of their hatred squashing them all the time. "Hhhhhhhng, I have... Such... A strong urge to... Ugh... Commit a hate crime, but... I can't move...!"
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