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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now.

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

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biromanticbooknook · 3 years

Text

My Most Ambitious Crossover

I got bored by posting only my second gen Amazon AU, so I’ll get back to that tomorrow, but enjoy this one-shot about Chloe and Marinette creating their own trip instead of their class trip in the meantime. Can’t have you all thinking I’m a one-trick pony, can I?

“-and that’s why we think you shouldn’t go on the trip this year.” Mlle. Bustier tried to look apologetic, but it was as much her idea as the students. Between Marinette refusing to set an example and Chloe associating with her, neither of them deserved to go.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I would have to get my daddy to donate 30% of the funds like he does every year.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to take 60% of the trip funds out of my commission profits. That will give me a much bigger budget for fabric and accessories.” Everyone blanched at the statements of the 2 girls. They were saying that they paid for 90% of the trip every year, but that couldn’t be right. They worked so hard on fundraisers every year, they must be lying about how much they contribute.

Marinette just ignored them, turning to her seatmate. “Do you think that our other friends would want to go on a trip with us? Most classes take their trips during May, so we could leave at the beginning of June and take the entire summer.”

“Nice thinking, Maribug. With fewer people, prices go down and we can afford more bang for our buck.” They walk out of the classroom, discussing who to ask and when.

The class just made a big mistake.

-----

By the time the weekend rolled around, Marinette and Chloe had their group list finalized. The people going on their trip were themselves, Luka, Kagami, Aurore, Mireille, and Marc. They got together and started brainstorming fundraisers.

Marinette started. “There are the given examples; you know, car wash, bake sale, raffle. What else?”

“We could host a show.” Luka suggested.

“Like an exhibition?” Marinette asked. “We could have you perform, Kagami do a fencing demonstration, and I could do a small fashion show, using Chloe and Marc as models. Aurore and Mireille could be our MCs.”

“To capitalize on money-making, we could sell tickets, food and drink, and merch for Luka’s solo career as well as commission spots for our resident designer.”

“That’s good.” Marinette starts scribbling in the shared notebook.

“At Le Grande Paris, we could host parties. I know days when the grand ballroom is open. We could host an auction, sell lessons and creations and stuff. We could also host a masquerade ball that we sell tickets for. We could charge for food and drink. The pools are open for private reservation quite often, we could have parties there too.” Chloe takes the notebook and starts writing down her ideas, mapping out all the resources needed while muttering.

“We could also host a carnival or a gaming tournament in the ballroom.” Kagami looked thoughtful. “I’ve never actually been to one.”

Chloe added that to the list. “Should we do anything else?”

“We could start a go-fund-me. Artists and writers do it all the time to get their creations off the ground.” Marc murmured.

“That would be great. What’s our goal for this entire endeavor?”

“Our goal, Maribug, is €45,000. That should cover travel, boarding, tours, food, and souvenirs. Whatever we don’t spend gets redistributed to the group.” Chloe supplies.

“Then that should be it. Nice job, guys!”

“My, what a whirlwind of a planning session. I hope nothing rains on our parade. I wonder weather Mlle. Bustier’s class is doing this well.” Aurore beams at them.

“Mm-hmm.” Mireille agrees with Aurore.

“Probably not. Our classmates couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel. They’ll just listen to Lila that the boot will empty by itself through the toe because ‘I worked on patenting this boot’, then they’ll get mad at the boot for not doing it.” Chloe chuckles dryly.

“Be nice.” Marinette reprimands half-heartedly.

-----

Chloe immediately filed the paperwork with the school board so they could go on their trip with no safety or legal concerns. She recruited Mme. Mendeleiev and M. D'Argencourt to be their chaperones, who were more than happy to go on an all-expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, New York City, and Tokyo.

They had their first fundraiser at the end of September, a pool party at Le Grande Paris. Even Mlle. Bustier’s class attended, though they didn’t know who had set it up, only that Luka was performing. They hadn’t even started their planning yet. The group made €3,041.

The next was a car wash in the middle of October. It was cool enough for a car wash to be pleasant while being warm enough that everyone was still out and about. They earned €2,632. Bustier's class was getting ice cream and listening to Lila brag.

They then had an All Hallow’s Eve bake sale, complete with candy decoration reminiscent of the American holiday. They earned €1,800.

During November, they held a carnival, with a full fall theme. It was wildly popular with families from all over Paris, earning them €6,483. It was around this time that Mlle. Bustier’s class held a bake sale, and earned €1,594. They celebrated.

Throughout the holiday season, they took advantage of peoples’ spirit. They held a raffle throughout the 12 Days of Christmas, while also holding a bake sale the day before winter break. Overall, they earned €10,749.

Over winter break, Chloe bought plane tickets and reserved tours and hotels, so all that was left was to get money for the tours and food. They were over halfway to their goal.

During January, they rented a theater, and held their exhibition. They had a crowd of fencing enthusiasts, rock music lovers, and fashion followers. They made €5,830.

They held a date auction and a masquerade to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was amazing, and they earned €7,284.

They had checked their go-fund-me, and had found that €10,000 was there, putting them €2,819 over their goal. They were ecstatic!

They still held the gaming tournament at the end of April, but let it be free for everyone to enjoy as their celebration of reaching their goal.

-----

Mlle. Butsier’s class had made €7,000 over their 3 fundraisers, and they were pretty proud of themselves. No doubt they would be going somewhere much better than whatever Maribrat and Chloe have planned. Once the girls walked into the classroom, the class started to brag.

“We’ve finished fundraising!”

Marinette smiled and decided to be nice to them. “Cool. Where are you going?”

“We are going to New York City.”

Chloe was not as kind. “Oh, so are we! It was so hard to raise the €45,000 needed for our trip, but we did it. It was so euphoric to meet our goal. How much did you guys raise?”

“We made €7,000.” The smiles slowly slipped off the faces of the class. “What do you mean the €45,000 needed?”

“Well, we needed to cover food, travel, boarding, and tours, and that was just for the 7 of us. I can’t imagine what the budget would’ve been like for an entire class.” Her smile got an edge, like a lioness who knew she had cornered her prey.

Her classmates blanched. “What was our budget, Alya?” Rose looked towards their new class representative, hoping that she had an answer.

“We never had one.”

“Well, at least you filed the paperwork right?”

“What paperwork?”

Marinette responded this time. “The paperwork needed to go on a trip. You were supposed to submit it to the school board for approval of safety and legality. It was on page 17 of the packet I gave you at the beginning of the year. Didn’t you read it, Alya?”

“I-I-no. Lila said that was just extra work that you had given me to throw me off my game. She said you didn’t actually need to do all of that.”

“I didn’t know that Lila had more experience being a class representative than me and Marinette, the only 2 people who have ever been class representative here.” Chloe’s voice became as sharp and sweet as her smile. “Well, have fun with your trip. Marinette and I have to do last-minute checks on our arrangements.”

The class looked at the people that had carried them the previous years, and realized how much they relied on the girls. Lila was cursing herself for pushing away the only people who actually did anything in this class.

-----

The class ended up going to Disneyland Paris, and tried their best to look as upbeat as possible on their social medias. Meanwhile, The group was having the time of their lives.

They stayed in LA for 2 weeks, visiting movie sets and meeting actors. They spent another week just going on everything at Disneyland and California Adventure.

They then spent a week in Star City, touring Queen Industries and having a meet and greet with Oliver Queen and his ward, Roy Harper, who seemed to enjoy Aurore’s outgoing personality. They even saw the vigilantes.

They spent another 2 weeks in Central City, touring STAR Labs and watching the rogues try to fight the Flash family. It was the most meta-filled city in the world, and They toured a forensics lab with Bart Allen. Chloe seemed grimly pleased with seeing the bodies. She might’ve been projecting certain people onto them, not that she would ever admit it.

2 weeks in Metropolis was really fun. They toured the Daily Planet with Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Mireille was amazed by what you could do to report without having to be in front of a screen. They made a scavenger hunt of how many Supers they could find, and they found 2 different superboys. Lex Corp also gave them a tour, although it was more professional than the tour of the Daily Planet.

They spent 1 week in Gotham. They toured Wayne Enterprises and stayed out of the Bats’ way. Luka got the phone number of Tim Drake. Marinette enjoyed the inspiration that the gothic architecture brought her. There wasn’t much of a nightlife scene, considering only fools stay out after dark in Gotham.

Their 1 week in New York City was hectic. The Avengers were all at the tower when they were touring with Pepper Potts by Chloe’s request. Chloe might’ve been unofficially adopted by Tony Stark when she stood up to them and made them ‘cease their bullshit’. The Black Widow also took a liking to the girl. They also ran into these weird teens muttering about monsters when they were waiting for the elevator at the Empire State Building.

2 weeks in Tokyo. Their last stop. They visited the prestigious Ouran Academy, the host club getting Marc to come out of their shell by constantly helping boost his self-esteem. Chloe enjoyed talking business and finances with Kyoya Ootori. Kagami led them all in a traditional tea ceremony, before they all stormed the streets to try the unfamiliar street food.

Marinette ended up being unofficially adopted by 3 heroes, 2 rogues, and 5 billionaires. She was happy getting to spend 7 weeks on the road with only her closest friends.

The class was incredibly jealous of the trip their classmates took. They hoped next year they could go on a trip like that as well, but they had missed their shot.

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the-modernmary · 3 years

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my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 5)

Chapter summary: Aaron and the rest of the BAU finally make an arrest on their case, and you spend the weekend at Aaron’s.

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms

prev. chapter || masterlist || read on ao3

I had a few, got drunk on you, and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

- Harry Styles, “Medicine”

~~~~~~~

The investigation was slow going, and every day when you got off the metro to get to your internship, you would see the undercover van that you knew had BAU members cramped inside, sitting and waiting for somebody, anybody , to slip up and say something incriminating.

It was weird being at work knowing that it was bugged, but it did wonders for your productivity. Whenever Chris or another one of your friends at the office started to ask you about your personal life, you were able to deflect it with a quick “Sorry, I’m in the zone right now, and I’ve really got to focus!” Usually, you had no problem sharing, but you really didn’t want the FBI to have audio evidence of your retelling of you double fisting vodka Sprites the night before until you passed out in your bathtub.

You also hadn’t seen Aaron since that first night together, which was almost a week ago now. The two of you had been texting back and forth pretty consistently, but you quickly found that there was a variable that wasn’t there two years ago - Jack.

You should have realized that, of course , Jack would be living with Aaron now, but it never crossed your mind. Jack used to live with Haley, and Aaron rarely brought him up to you. Now that Jack lived with Aaron, it made things a little more complicated. It also meant that you couldn’t just show up at Aaron’s doorstep whenever you were feeling lonely, or vice versa. After a long and awkward phone call, Aaron and you had both agreed that it was best that Jack just didn’t meet you, just in case he got attached.

“For now, at least,” Aaron had added at the end, and holy shit, you did not have the time to unpack whatever the fuck that meant.

Especially not with Chris throwing a crumpled piece of paper at you like the two of you were in middle school and passing notes.

You held up the ball of paper with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously? You have the desk across from me, you could have just said my name.”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked you, pointedly ignoring your question. “Nina just got the Catan expansion pack and she wants us all to come over.”

You pursed your lips as you thought about the offer. You did love game nights with your friends, but it was Friday night and you were still holding out on the possibility of Aaron maybe being free and inviting you over. It was almost pitiful how touch starved you were after just a few days of not being with Aaron.

“I’m not sure whether or not I’m busy tonight,” you admitted, maybe speaking a little too loudly in the direction of the listening devices, just in case Aaron was listening in.

Chris gave you a knowing smirk. “Oh, are you waiting to hear from your secret lover?”

“Okay, don’t use the word ‘lover’ again,” you groaned. “And what makes you think that it was anything more than a one night stand?”

“Because when you’re not actively texting, you’ve been checking your phone every 20 minutes.”

Your face turned red as you sunk into your seat, trying and failing to hide yourself. Maybe if you willed it hard enough, the ground would open up and swallow you whole, just to save you from the embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were checking your phone so often, but you also didn’t doubt it.

“Fine,” you grumbled, deciding that coming clean to your friends was going to be much easier than having to deal with them bringing it up at every moment possible. Besides, you didn’t have to give them all the details. “I will tell everybody all about him, but later . Not now.”

Chris smirked as he leaned back in his chair, obviously proud of himself. You turned back to your work, mindlessly doing edits as you came up with a cover story in your head.

Ran into an old friend, you could say. We got drinks, and then one thing led to another. That could work, except you came to the realization that you didn’t have any photos of Aaron, which would be suspicious if he was an old friend. You would have to look him up, which you were sure would just lead to a slew of FBI ID photos and news articles, which would mean that they’d just do some major googling of their own. You had avoided looking up Aaron, maybe in fear of what fucked up cases he had been involved in, but your friends would not hesitate.

You could come up with something so ridiculous that they would just laugh about it. Yeah, I got a sugar daddy and he made me sign a nondisclosure agreement, sorry! You giggled to yourself just thinking about it. Aaron would probably be mortified at the thought. Although, he did wear a Rolex, so you guessed that anything was possible.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Chris mumbled, and you just gave a lazy hum as a reply, not really paying attention. “The FBI is here.”

Your head snapped up at that . You whipped your head around so that you could face the entrance, and sure enough, the entire BAU team was walking in like they owned the place, with Aaron in the lead. They all had their FBI vests on, a sight which was way more attractive than it should have been. JJ and Reid stayed at the entrance to make sure nobody got out.

“Everybody, please stay calm,” JJ called out, putting her hands up non threateningly. “Everything is okay, but we need you all to stay sitting exactly where you are.”

A commotion came from the conference room and against your better judgment, you turned your head to watch what was going on. It wasn’t just one person getting arrested, it was every partner. You watched as Aaron spun Julian DuPont around by the wrist and pushed his face down on the conference table and oh, the FBI vest was nothing compared to watching Aaron arrest somebody.

If anybody asked you if you got turned on during an FBI raid, you would vehemently deny it, but watching Aaron take out his handcuffs made your mind flash back to all those times you were in that same position, cuffed and bent over, completely at Aaron’s mercy.

Just as quickly as they came in, the BAU made their arrests and made their way back out. As Aaron passed your desk, his eyes met yours for a brief second and the corner of his mouth quirked up smugly. It was so subtle and quick that even you barely caught it, but you knew that look.

At least you weren’t the only one in this situation with your mind in the gutter.

Once the rest of the BAU was out of the building, JJ and Reid started the process of getting everybody else out of the office so that CSI could come in and finish looking around. When you passed by them, both agents greeted you with a warm smile, like the three of you were old friends.

“Y/N, we’re going to need to get your statement before you go home,” Reid told you as you walked by, and you just nodded in confirmation.

Once you got outside, you were immediately greeted by some agent named Anderson. He needed to get your statement on the work you did with the team, and you quickly gave him the PG version of the story. Your mind, however, was more focused on finding Aaron, who you knew had to be somewhere in the crowd. God, how long did it take to write down a simple statement?

“I’ll take it from here, Anderson. Thank you.”

Aaron’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you spun around to look at him. You brought your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Nice arrest, although I’m surprised. Mr. DuPont doesn’t even drive himself to work, I can’t imagine him waiting out to kill somebody.”

“That’s because he hired hitmen,” Aaron explained. “The victims were all bribing judges to get their cases dismissed, and all of those dismissed cases looked really bad for his prosecuting record.”

You shrugged, placing your hands on his hips. “Probably not as bad as prison, though.”

That actually got a laugh out of Aaron, but he quickly composed himself as another agent walked past the two of you. “Yeah, he’s not going to be practicing law ever again.”

You opened your mouth to say something - maybe to invite him over? You weren’t totally sure - when one of the CSI’s came over to ask Aaron something.

Aaron waved him off, telling him that he would be there in a moment, before turning back to you. “My house will be empty all weekend,” he whispered, looking around to make sure nobody was watching. “Pack a bag, come over.”

Before you could even answer him, Aaron had already taken off. You made your way towards the metro so that you could run home before heading to Aaron’s. You had to fight the smile that was growing on your face when Aaron mentioned packing a bag. Not only was it an unspoken promise of a weekend full of sex, it also meant that he was planning on making room for you to keep some of your stuff at his house. The two of you were quickly falling back into your old routines, and it was weirdly comforting.

When you got to your house, you made a split second decision to change out of your work clothes into a more casual outfit, although it didn’t matter much what you were wearing. It’s not like it was going to stay on for very long. As you packed your bag, you ordered an Uber, knowing it would get you to Aaron’s place faster than the metro.

Sure, you were a little impatient, but it had been so long since you had spent the night at Aaron’s place. It always intrigued you how different it was at his house than it was at yours. You were just staying in a shoebox apartment while you were in college - something liveable and temporary until after you graduated and got a job where you could put actual roots down. Your decor was fairly minimum, an assortment of knick-knacks and photos of your friends.

Aaron’s place was different. It was a certifiable, adult house with framed art and random decorative bowls scattered around. All of his kitchenware was a part of a matching set and his living room looked like all the pieces were picked out by an interior designer. In a weird way, being at Aaron’s house gave you a glimpse of the life you could have in just a few years. Sometimes, it was easy to imagine that you were a part of his world.

You couldn’t think like that, though. Especially not when he greeted you at his door with an eager kiss, pulling you in so that you were pressed against him.

“I’m going to use this entire weekend,” Aaron mumbled against your lips in between kisses. His hands slid up your sides, pulling your shirt off almost immediately. “To thoroughly and completely ruin you, until you can only say my name.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you smiled into the kiss, your fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt. A soft moan escaped your lips, which only encouraged him to deepen the kiss.

The two of you stumbled towards Aaron’s bedroom, only detaching your lips when absolutely necessary and leaving a trail of clothes behind you. You needed to be naked, to feel your bare skin pressed against his. His hands were impossibly everywhere all at once - running up your thighs, cupping your breasts, and gripping your hips so hard that it was bound to leave bruises. Your body burned everywhere he touched and soon all you could think about was him and how badly you wanted him to touch you where it mattered.

Once you got to his bedroom, Aaron pressed you against the wall. You tried to grind against him, but he moved one of his hands onto your hips so that he could hold you in place. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking just enough to make your back arch. “You have no idea how often I thought of you this week. How hard it was to listen to you and not think about how you sound when you’re begging for me. How badly I needed you.”

Your nail scratched down his back lightly, just enough to elicit a soft hiss from him. “Desperation is unbecoming on you, Aaron,” you teased, knowing that would get a reaction out of him.

It worked. One of his hands stayed on your hip, pressing you firmly against the wall, while his other hand tangled itself in your hair, pulling your head back so that your face was lifted up towards him. He kept you at an arm's distance as his eyes raked your body up and down hungrily.

“I’m desperate?” he said scornfully. “Coming from the girl who is so needy that she couldn’t stay away from her phone for more than a few minutes, just waiting for me to want you. I could have called you at any time, and you would have dropped everything just to let me use you, isn’t that right? You’d let me do anything to you, just like the filthy slut you are.”

You visibility gulped at his statement but you nodded obediently, which earned you a sharp tug of your hair.

“Yes, Aaron, fuck ,” you gasped out. “I would have let you do anything at any time, just please…”

Aaron gave you a predatory grin as the hand on your hip slowly made its way up your stomach until it cupped your right breast, thumbing lightly over your nipple. It wasn’t enough to get any real pleasure, but it made you moan all the same.

“You did such a good job this week,” he murmured, looking at you almost worshipfully like he wanted to commit you to memory. “I was going to give you whatever you wanted tonight. But maybe that would make me too desperate .”

You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. “I- I-” you stuttered out. You couldn’t think straight.

“I- I-,” Aaron mocked. “I thought you were a lot more intelligent than that. Come on, Y/N, whatever you want. Use your words. Unless pleasure’s turned you into a stupid whore.” He punctuated the last word with a light spank to your clit, which made you cry out and your legs instinctively try to close.

“I want you to use your mouth,” you begged, arching your back in a pitiful attempt to create some form of contact. Your shoulders pressed against the wall was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Where?” he asked all too casually.

Your breathing was still shaky at best, but you forced yourself to make eye contact with Aaron. He looked back at you expectantly, waiting patiently for your answer.

You slowly raised your hand to point to your left breast, which so far had been woefully ignored. “Here,” you said hesitantly, not sure whether or not he was going to tease you. While Aaron always gave you what you asked for eventually, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make you beg for it first.

To his credit, however, Aaron immediately bent down and attached his mouth to your nipple, his teeth gently scraping over the sensitive flesh. His eyes never left yours, he wanted to watch your reaction.

Feeling more confident, you cupped the sides of his face and pulled him off you, and the sound it made was obscene. “I want you to eat me out,” you whispered, blushing as you said it. “I want to feel myself cum on your face, please .”

Aaron smirked as he slid down to his knees, kissing all the way down your stomach. “Good girl, you asked so nicely,” he mumbled against your skin and it sent shivers up your spine. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him a perfect few of your pussy, slick with your arousal. “Look at you, dripping down your thighs before I’ve even started. Desperation is unbecoming on you, Y/N,” he mocked. He was using your words against you, and you didn’t even care. You just wanted him to do something, anything.

Aaron ran a finger through your folds, ghosting over your clit. You hips bucked, desperate for more contact, but his finger was already gone. “Look at me,” he ordered, and as soon as you did, you were greeted with the image of Aaron admiring the wetness that was covering his finger. Then he stuck the finger in his mouth, smirking as he did, and you moaned out at the sight. “You taste so good, Y/N.”

“Please, Aaron, I need you to- oh! ” you begged, but you were cut off by Aaron licking a strip up your center, still avoiding your clit.

His hands came around and grabbed onto your ass as he got to work, lapping through your folds. You tangled your hands in his hair, rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more . His tongue teased at your clit, humming every once in a while in a way that sent vibrations throughout you. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into you curling them in just the right spot.

As Aaron’s fingers pumped in and out of you, his lips focused solely on your clit. He flicked it once with his tongue before sucking, relishing in the way you moaned out his name. You tightened your grip in Aaron’s hair as your first orgasm hit you, your whole body shaking and a string of expletives leaving your mouth. But that didn’t stop Aaron.

He added a third finger and replaced his mouth with his thumb on your clit. “You’re going to give me another one,” he practically growled. “And then I’m going to fuck you until you’re a whining mess. This is what you asked for isn’t it?”

When you didn’t answer right away, he turned his head to the side and bit down on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, causing you to cry out. He sucked on that same spot for a little before dragging his tongue over the newly formed bruise.

“Yes, I want that, Aaron,” you cried out. “I want you .”

He reattached his lips to your folds with newfound vigor, making tight circles around your clit. His free hand snaked up your sides to your breast, pinching and twisting at your nipple. You continued to beg, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. All you knew was that you were so full of want , want for your second orgasm, and want for Aaron.

Aaron fucked you with his fingers with ease, as if he had all the time in the world. You ground down on him again, chasing your orgasm the best you could. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure, but you needed more. You opened your eyes, only to be met with Aaron’s blown pupils, eyes full of desire. You could almost feel his smirk as he wrapped his lips around your clit and pulled .

The heel of your foot dug into his back as you cried out, your second orgasm twice as intense as your first one. Aaron’s fingers kept pumping into you lazily, and even your panting couldn’t cover the filthy sounds it was making. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs.

Aaron slowly removed his fingers from you and lightly swiped them over your clit once more as he stood up, which almost made you completely lose your balance, a sob tearing from your mouth.

He held his glistening fingers in front of your mouth and you opened obediently, moaning as you tasted yourself on him. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, making sure to clean every trace of you off him.

Aaron removed his fingers from your mouth. “Do you have one more in you?” he asked, and it was softer than you were used to. “It’s okay if you don’t. We have all weekend.”

“I need your dick in me,” you said in lieu of an answer. “Please, please fuck me.”

Aaron pulled you to his bed and you all but collapsed onto your back, your legs still shaking from your back to back orgasms. Aaron crawled on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, all the way from your stomach to your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. All of his movements were gentle, bordering on caring. “Yelling out my name so that everybody can hear that you’re mine .”

He pressed into you slowly, his first few thrusts shallow, and you could see that it was taking all of his willpower to keep teasing you like this. You dragged your nails down his back, not caring if it left marks on him.

“Aaron,” you whimpered, bucking your hips to try and get more movement. “Please fuck me. I need more.”

Aaron was always good at giving you what you wanted.

His hips snapped into you harshly, and you had to attach your lips to his shoulder to keep from screaming out. Aaron thrusted into you hard and fast, wanting to feel every inch of you. He stretched you in all the best ways and your back arched off the bed. You were holding on to Aaron like a lifeline, and all he could do was grunt out your name over and over, repeating it like a prayer.

Your third orgasm came fast, spreading through your body like a wildfire, and you could feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the overstimulation. Aaron’s thrusts became more desperate and harsher as he felt you squeeze around him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, his breathing ragged and you could tell that he was so close-

“Cum for me… Fill me up,” you purred into Aaron’s ear, and that’s all it took for him to finish, holding himself deep inside you as his warmth filled you. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath. You brought your head up to kiss Aaron, slowly and deliberately and filled with… something . You couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

Aaron pulled out of you slowly and flopped onto the bed next to you, but he reached over and held your hand. The two of you laid like that for several moments, giving yourselves time to come back down to reality. Finally, Aaron rolled on his side to check on you. You admired the flush on his body, especially as it rose to his cheeks and made him look like he was practically glowing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hand. “Can I do anything?”

You turned your head to smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze, before sitting up. Aaron was always so careful about aftercare, which you were immensely appreciative of. “Oh, I’m fine, I’m just going to go to the bathroom. A UTI might ruin the mood,” you joked.

When you returned, Aaron was already in a pair of pajama pants and sitting in bed. He had also laid out one of his shirts for you, which caused your stomach to do flips. Despite the fact that you actually did pack pajamas, you chose to wear his shirt. You could feel his eyes watching your every movement as you made your way back into bed, leaning back against the headboard.

Aaron placed an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him, catching his lips in another kiss, this one soft and sensual. You placed your hand on his bare chest as the kiss deepened, and Aaron’s fingers ghosting over your skin sent shivers down your spine.

“So,” you murmured against his lips. “What are your plans for me this weekend?” It was partially a joke, but you wanted to be as prepared as possible for just how sore you were going to be on Monday after an entire three days of being thoroughly wrecked by Aaron.

Aaron’s lips curved up into a smile as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head, letting his lips linger for just a second too long. “Hm, we can play it by ear. Although, I was thinking Indian for dinner tomorrow night?”

You were too old to get butterflies, but there was something so soft and so sincere in his reply that it made your stomach do flips. Aaron yawned, probably not even giving a second thought to his reply, and pulled you in closer to him.

“Yeah,” you conceded, closing your eyes. “Indian sounds good.” You could deal with the butterflies later.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #my best habit #my writing

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noayuusukki · 3 years

Text

Say My Name.

Iida x fem!reader Fluff (cause I’m feeling lonely, even though I’m single as a Pringle- I also am suddenly on an Iida kick so~ and I have this scenario in my head a lot I also REFUSE to believe that the Iida family doesn’t know English almost fluently due to the generation of heroes, and them wanting to help ALL- even foreigners- and Iida calling you his star or my love just makes my heart 🥺)

Word Count: 2,133 Little Summary: You’re a pro-hero from Japan that moved after going on hiatus when you somehow met Iida. When you’re invited to be a guest “speaker” at UA for the heroes course, Iida is in for a little surprised. TW: Long Distance Relationship; None that I can think of~ . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Being a pro-hero was hard. Being one at a young age was even harder. So When you went on hiatus, you went back to school to catch up on everything you missed. And one of the assignments that you had to do when you got back- a letter exchange.

That’s you met Iida, Purely for a school assignment. Write a letter to someone in a different country, compare your cultures, all that jazz. Somehow you both ended up wanting to talk to each other more- not wanting to wait on the letters being delivered half way cross the world, so you gave him whatever forms of social media you had and waited.

Lucky for the both of you, he sent you a message within a week. Telling you that he made an account specifically for you both to talk. Which Warmed your heart. After the letter exchange, you and Iida continued to talk and after a year of talking decided to start a long distance relationship. You were now a senior in America and Iida was in his third year in Japan, having known each other for nearly 3 years and dating for almost a year- you both had never met in person.

Sure, you’ve face-timed each other when the other was awake, just waking up, or wasn’t busy. But when Iida started to train more to be a hero, you heard less and less from him- the once hours long calls turned to five minute ones, and the conversations of text that would be miles long within an hour, turned to simple good mornings and good nights.

And while you knew what it was like to be a pro, and having trained since you were little. You still felt like you weren’t worth his time anymore, always making the first moves. Until one day your guardian got a call from your manager about an opportunity to speak to up-coming heroes, and more specifically UA. Almost instantly an idea popped into your mind, and you instantly agreed to talk to the heroes in training.

With this new information, you text his brother, Tensei to help you figure somethings out.

You had met Tensei by pure accident.You had called Tenya when your relationship was new, and instead of him- you saw someone who looked like him, but older. You instantly hung up and waited for Tenya to text you about who that was, but instead the ringing of your phone returned and you hesitantly answered- only to see the same person from before. Which caused you to drop your phone out of shook. But you could still hear Tenya yelling about how he wanted his phone back, and how this was an invasion of privacy- that’s basically how you meet and befriended his brother.

“I’m going to that same talk, but why are you calling me about it?”

“Tensei, I got invited as well.” There was a long pause before Tensei asked the very important question.

“You’re a hero?” You quickly explained that you were in deed a hero that even worked in Japan, your quirk allowing you to gather information on a person by looking them in the eyes, even if it’s for a split second. You told him why you were on hiatus, but still did some work on a smaller scale for local heroes.

“But that’s not why I called,” you laughed after hearing his reaction. “I wanted to get there a few days earlier to surprise Tenya.”

“They’re really busy at UA-”

“I can try to get in contact with one of the teachers, all I need is another excuse to see him.”

“So I’m an excuse now?” He teases, an evident smile on his face as he agreed to help you with your little plan.

A week or so before the initial date, you found yourself on a plan to the closest airport to Musutafu with your guardian.

You were beyond nervous, having never seen Tenya in person, wondering if he was the same person he was on the phone. You knew he was, but you can’t help but wonder- let your mind wander as you spent 10+ hours on two/three different planes. The whole way there was a big blur until you met Tensei in the airport and were in your hotel room.

Which you crashed as soon as you were changed and on a comfortable surface. The next day is when your plan really started.

So the next day, Tensei picked you up and helped you into UA and the dorms. having one of their teachers help with this- you waited for Tenya to return to his room after class. You waited in his room for hours, looking at everything you had around and even reading some of the books he had laying around. It wasn’t until you heard yelling from downstairs did you realize that classes were over.

You put the book you were reading down and smoothed out your clothes, your nerves starting to act up as you patiently waited. Hearing chatter outside the door, you stood and waited.

“Make sure you don’t stay up to late! Despite tomorrow being a weekend, keeping a god schedule is important!” You smiled and made sure you weren’t in the line of sight from anyone in the doorway.

“You too, Iida-kun.” A somewhat higher pitched voice said before Tenya nodded, closing the door and sighing, taking his glasses off, rubbing his eyes.

“Tenya?” His ears perked up at the sound of your voice, he instantly put his glasses back on and finding where your voice came from. When he found you standing in his room, questions came to his mind- were you really here? How were you here? Why? What? When?

“My star?” When he snapped out of his questioning state he hesitantly made his way towards you, his voice timid like he was scared this was a dream.

“My love,” you closed the gap and engulfed as much as you could hold in a hug, feeling his body stiffen before relaxing. He was so happy that you were here, but he still had questions. Pulling away from the hug, he cupped your cheeks softly.

“My star, why are you here? How did you get here, and into UA?”

Smiling you answered, “I thought it was about time we met- I was also getting tired of the lack of conversations.” That statement made Tenya’s brows furrow, he was going to respond but you cut him off. “I also had help from a certain Engine hero.” Tenya could only roll his eyes at the information, that is brother helped sneak you into UA just to see him.

“That’s highly irresponsible of both of you-”

“Tenya, you can reprimand us later, but I just want to hold you for now.” Tenya couldn’t argue and only agreed, leading you to his bed and cuddle for the rest of the night.

-----

The following week, after spending a lot of time with Tenya and Tensei. You and Tensei made your way to UA, you both in versions of your make shift hero costumes, despite Tensei having passed down his costume to Tenya.

“What’s with your costume?” Tensei laughed, all you had on that was from your costume was a black face mask with sheer fabric laced at each bend of the arm with it ending at the base of your middle finger.

“I made it when I was like 14- I haven’t really had the chance to change it, but I’m also not wearing all of it.” You said as you stopped in front of gym gamma, taking a deep breath you looked at Tensei before nodding and entered the gym, standing behind the other students. Hearing Eraserhead say they had some special guest to help them with training today. You and Tensei smiled at they intently listened to their teacher.

“Eraserhead!” Tensei shouted as soon as he was done talking. Everyone turned around surprised to see the retired hero and some random girl behind them.

“All of you know who this is,” Erasure said while walking in front of the group and motioning to Tensei. “But, you may not know who this is.”

“Hello! I’m Intel, I’m basically an underground hero who worked with big names before going on hiatus!” As you spoke, Tenya was trying to figure out why you sounded so familiar- not knowing it was you. “Erasure asked us here to help you, either with teamwork building or stealth.” Tensei read out the people who would work with him first, leaving you with the rest.

“I worked with people like All Might, Endeavor, Fatgum, more of the bigger heroes who couldn’t fit into small spaces and sneak around.”

“How old are you?” A guy with Yellow hair and a dark brown lighting bolt in his hair asked.

You giggled, “I’m actually your age.” That giggle is what connected the dots for Tenya. Intel was (Y/N), Intel was you.

“Let’s play a little game!” You suggested, “I had Cementos make this terrain, 5 of you will be patrolling and I will try to get this ball from one side to the other without getting caught.” The others didn’t believe you could do it and instantly agreed, having the other 15 watch what was about to happen.

The first 5 that went in weren’t back, but you got the ball from one side to the other in a matter of minutes. The second group was a bit harder, but that only lasted for the first few minutes as you got to the other side. The third group had a similar plan to the second, having someone at the entrance and exit purely to catch you- not knowing that you could get passed them.

The fourth group almost caught you, they were tactful from having watched the other groups. But something that they had yet to learn was your quirk. While you could simply learn theres once they looked in your direction, they didn’t have to see you, but you had to see them.

Deciding that you wanted a little challenge, you decided to yell. “Over here!” Before you ran into the shadows, only Tenya was in this group and you came to where your taunt was very quickly. Soon the others also came and that made it easier for you to creak away and win. After you won that round you had them either take a break or talk to Tensei, but you didn’t expect Tenya coming up to you and asking you to talk.

“Intel, may I speak wth you?”

“Sure, what would you like to talk about?” Tenya took off his helmet and looked around you both before stepping a bit closer.

“(Y/N),” the tone of your name and the seriousness of his voice made you wonder what he wanted to talk about. “Say my name.” Okay, what?

“Huh?”

“Say my name, please, I would like to confirm something.” He said, lowering his head and his voice, “Say Tenya, please.” You took a deep breath and, bit your lip.

“Tenya.” His eyes snapped up to yours, his dark blue eyes boring into your (E/C) eyes. He nodded and stepped closer to you again, patting your head and walking away. You knew he would talk about this more later but for now, you were happy to be able to help him follow his dreams.

--------

“SaY mY nAmE.” You mocked as you walked out of UA, having just finished talking to Nezu and thanking him for this wonderful opportunity. Tensei had left earlier than you, having to finish paperwork at his office. The gesture left your heart racing for the rest of the day, wishing that you saw this side to him a bit more- even if you were oceans away.

As you were leaving, you heard your name being called.

“(Y/N)!” You knew who it was without having to turn around.

“Tenya, what are you doing? Don’t you have homework?”

“I do, but I wanted to see you off for a long as I could.” You smiled and continued to walk to the gate, now with Tenya by your side. You could tell he wanted to ask you something, but didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Tenya,” you stopped walking and turned toward him, “if you’re wondering why I didn’t tell you I was a hero, the simple answer is- it never came up. I would’ve told you when if it did, but it never did.” Tenya was quiet after that, grabbing your hands.

“Can you... can you say my name, one more time, my star?” You giggled and nodded before saying his name, his grip on your hands tightened a bit before you asked why he wanted to hear his name.

“It sounds different in person.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ . . ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

This sucks cause it’s like 6:30 am when I wrote this, and spent like 2/3 hours on it. I know it’s not going to get a lot of notes like Please Cause Iida is underrated

But I was in an Iida mood and become sad then sleep deprivation kicked in and this story lost all the angst- but i hope you enjoy!

#bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia iida #iida tenya #Iida #iida x you #iida x reader #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero x reader #pro hero x reader #pro hero reader #ingenium

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pearl-blue-musings · 3 years

Text

Perchance to Meet pt. 3

whoops is it time for a little bit of angst??? i think it’s time for a little bit of angst.

warnings: cussing, suggestive language, attempted assault, sexual assault, stalking, unwanted advantages,smut, angst, another smut warning cause i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute, please 18+ cannot stress that enough

masterlist for my writing

Part 4

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

One date had turned into three which sprouted into many many more. Despite having challenging schedules, the two new found lovers made time for each other. Aizawa didn’t really think he’d get a chance like this but here he is, standing outside the bookstore he frequents as often as he can with a tiny goofy grin on his face.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

He stutters out a response upon seeing the outfit his girlfriend decided to wear. It wasn’t an easy thing to squeeze out of the man, but after the fifth date and the first time she spent the night at his place the couple made it official. Even his co-workers couldn’t believe the sleepy man had a girlfriend on top of everything he already does… But here she is, wearing one of his favorite outfits of hers as they meet up for a brief date.

“I was about to drop dead if I had to wait any longer,” he whispers as he leans in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love the way you look tonight.”

(Y/n) looks away embarrassed. Even though they had been dating for over three months now, she still couldn’t get used to Shouta’s flirting and downright cuteness. “T-thank you, Sho. I’m glad you get a few hours before your patrol shift starts.” She looks to him with bright and eager eyes that he could get lost in forever. “So, where are we going?”

It takes a little willpower in Aizawa to hold back a smirk as he enjoys the view of her impatience adorn her features. He’s not sure who will be more excited for the date, him or her.

“You’ll see,” he snickers. Her eyes roll as they stroll along the street. The setting sun ahead of them litters the sky with beautiful purples and oranges; a few clouds line the skies giving the world around them an ethereal feel.

They continue to walk for about ten more minutes, having mindless conversation about anything and everything, from how he’s going to be a homeroom teacher for the next year, how she wants to add a café portion to her bookstore to draw in more people and have more income, it flows seamlessly.

Soon they stop at a store front that is unfamiliar to the woman. Once she sees that her lover has stopped, she looks to the sign and suddenly her face lights up.

“Shouta, shut up are you serious?”

He leans down to her ear, “we’ve walked by this before and I’ve always noticed how your eyes linger here. So I got us reservations.”

The sparkle in her eye is unfazed as the grin on her face only gets wider.

“A cat café!? Shouta, I can’t- I mean you took me? Here? God, you’re amazing! I just-“ she ends her sentence by pulling him by his jacket collar and kissing him lovingly. After his initial shock, he cups her face with his warm hands and deepens the kiss. The feel of his lips on hers is a sense she never wants to tire of; she’s practically addicted to it already.

Aizawa hesitantly pulls away, “as much as I’d like to continue that, we don’t wanna miss our reservation, Kitten.” He kisses her on the cheek and pulls her inside the establishment. Once inside, the couple gets swept up in the ambiance of the place. (Y/n) had an inkling that this date wasn’t just to make you happy, but to make a certain cat lover of a man next her happy too. She had picked up on his love of cats and strays on their other dates and she may or may not attempt to adopt one of the cats as a surprise.

Two hours went by too quickly in the couples opinion, but they had to sadly leave. Their stomachs and hearts full, the two begin their walk back to the bookstore. A deep voice breaks the content silent. “I really don’t want to go on patrol tonight.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrow at his statement and silently urges Aizawa to continue. “I want to keep looking at you like this. So happy and content… I wish our schedules weren’t so crazy.”

“I do too,” she breathes, “but that’s how it is and I get it. I mean, we both know each other at this point and know that we’re busy. It’s life, we do what we love and hopefully someone will be there with us you know…”

The momentum of the conversation slows as they reach the bookstore. The words she wishes to say fill up her lungs begging to burst from her lips as she stares at the pre hero before. She gulps whatever anxiety she has and blurts out the words she’s wanted to say all night.

“I love you.”

Black eyes widen at the proclamation and then soften once he sees the shyness and slight fear (Y/n) poses in front of him. He steps up to her, staring at her lips then back to the eyes he can get lost in forever and whispers, “I know, I love you too Kitten,” and softly kisses her lips.

***************************************

“Hey, it’s (Y/n), I mean, yeah it’s me… But where are you? I’ve been waiting outside the club for about 10 minutes now. I know your patrol ended half an hour ago. Just call me back okay?”

(Y/n) grouchily hangs up the phone and pouts. She knew he was out late which is why she wanted him to pick her up from work so she could spend the weekend at his apartment. Aizawa had just finished the first week of school as the new 1-A homeroom teacher and his girlfriend knew he would need sometime to relax. Begrudgingly, of course.

She looks to her phone again and sees that it’s approaching 2:30 in the morning. Normally she doesn’t take closing shifts because of the bookstore, but wanted to align her schedule with Aizawa’s for some time together. After almost a year don’t you think he would have been a little more considerate of this fact? This wasn’t easy for her with the new café being added to her store and having to hire new employees; she needed this one little thing.

“Fuck it, I’m walking by myself.”

Clearly a bad idea. Blissfully unaware, she sullenly walked away from her second job and toward Aizawa’s apartment. The city at night wasn’t always the safest and she knew that, but she had been waiting for more than 20 minutes for Aizawa to show and he hadn’t so she took matters into her own hand. She kept her bag close to her body as she sped walk, attempting to keep her roaring thoughts at bay.

Her phone buzzes which halts her mind, and herself, and she stops in her path. She reaches in a sees a text from him saying “omw”. That’s it? And just now? Barely being on her way, she decides to turn around and go back to their original meeting place.

Bad idea number two. Roughly, she bumps into a stiff being and trips back a few steps. In front of her is a man in a long coat and hat, covering most of his identity. “Excuse me,” she mutters past him, but is abruptly stopped when his hand grips her forearm.

“You don’t remember me.”

“Sir, let go of me.”

“Why don’t you remember me?!”

Panic rising in her, (Y/n) begins to struggle against her assailant. “Sir I have no idea what you want from me! Please let me go.”

The man, clearly hysterical, pulls her into a nearby alley and slams her against the brick wall. The woman winces in pain and tries her best to not cry in front of this stranger. “Please, just take my bag… Don’t hurt me!”

“…Why don’t you remember me? You served me for months at the club. Months! You always made my favorite drink, always made me feel better. I love you (Y/F/n)! I always gave you extra tips when I came in and now I find that you’re thinking of quitting?! Is there someone else? I left my wife like you said I should because I wasn’t happy!”

The more the man rambles, the more she starts to remember. He went by the name Shuichi Oda and from what she gathered had a rough night. Obviously a drunk, it seems like things haven’t been going well for him. She remembers having some brief conversations with him to make her patron feel better but… Damn it! She knew that this was the downside of her quirk, some people took it too personally.

“Look, Shuichi-“

“You do remember me!” He exclaims and pulls her into an unneeded hug and starts to pet her hair. “I’ve been waiting for you to be alone for quite some time. Your quirk made me feel better. You, made me feel better.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she shakily tries to reason, “I’m just a bartender. It’s my job to make people feel better.”

The man hits his head with his fist, frightening the woman. “No! With you, it’s different, see?” After he says he leans in to sloppily kiss her, holding her still against the wall behind her. His hands begin to roam in places they shouldn’t which make tears start to form in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he wipes a tear from her face but she moves out of his reach. “Don’t be scared, I love you. And you’re gonna come with me and be with me forever okay?”

“Please,” she screams, “let me go! I have- mmph!”

“Sh sh sh sh, we can’t have you screaming! Others could hear and try to take you away from me!” The hand he placed over her mouth is now covered in tears from her eyes. She bites at him, but his maniacal smile only gets bigger. “I don’t feel physical pain darling, just emotional.” As soon as he says that, his wandering other hand goes toward her breast and he sighs in contentment. “Oh how I’ve longed for this-“

“That’s enough!”

Soon Shuichi is being thrust into the air. He’s wrapped up in bindings and hanging from a nearby streetlamp. Eyes glowing red stare at the apprehended man and pull the wraps tighter, causing him to cough in pain. Aizawa tugs on the wraps to make the man hit his head on the light and pass out. Luckily some sirens are heard closely as someone walking by heard her scream and called for the police. Aizawa was on his way and followed the direction of the police cars hoping it didn’t involve his lover.

An hour later finds the couple walking into the pro hero’s apartment. A strong silver blanket is still wrapped around (Y/n)’s body as they make their way in. They both take off their shoes and settle in silence as the events of the last hour replay through their minds. They don’t even bother to eat anything and start to get ready for bed. Her pajamas are partially on when he sits down on the bed and mumbles, “why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Hm? What was that?”

Sighing louder, her turns to face her. “I said, why didn’t you wait for me like you were supposed to?”

(Y/n) scoffs as she pulls his shirt down her body. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I wait? Why were you late?” Her question came out more forceful than she intended but it had been a very long day. “I rearranged my schedule so then we could get off work around the same time for once. Where the hell were you?”

“Don’t give me that,” he states getting louder, “school went late so I began my patrol late.”

“Would it have killed you to tell me that instead of keeping me waiting?”

“Would it have killed you to wait where I wanted you to? Then maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened.”

Her mouth flew open at his assumption. “Are you saying me getting attacked was my fault?!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as his frustration grows. “If you had just stayed there and waited I was going to get there.”

“Yeah sure! But did you forget the part where that nutjob has been following me for months? He would’ve gotten to me regardless.”

“That’s because you’re too kind. Letting people think that all their problems and issues will go away with just the right fix!”

“You’re ridiculous!” You yell, “Is that really what you think of me and my quirk? Is that what you think I did to you?” (Y/n) moves around the bed to get face to face with him to prove more of her point.

He stands up off the bed to look down at her. “It could be like that for him or any other guy you’re kind to or use your quirk on. All you had to do was wait!”

“And we’re back to where we fucking started. You were late! What was I supposed to do? Wait for the next guy to come along and fuck me over in the middle of the night?”

“(Y/n) that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Oh is it? Then why do you keep putting the blame on whether or not I waited?”

“Look,” he recedes slightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me being late, but you can’t just walk around by yourself like that!”

“Fuck off, yes I can! I’ve done it before why does it suddenly have to change now?”

“Because I fucking love you, idiot!”

Throats hoarse after the shouting match, black eyes shut as he sinks into the bed. (Y/n)’s conviction begins to falter as she follows him onto the mattress. “Shouta?”

He takes a deep breath in attempt to control himself, “I know I should have told you I was late, I’m sorry. But, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. When you weren’t there, I panicked.” He leans onto her shoulder while she rubs his back soothingly. “I was so scared for you. When I saw him touching you, I saw red.”

(Y/n) breathes deeply taking in his words, “Sho…”

“I don’t want to lose you, or have you be hurt because of me. I’m a pro-hero and a teacher at a prominent school, I’m bound to have some enemies.” He sits up to meet her gaze, holding her face in his hands. “That guy hurt you because of you and I wasn’t there.”

“Sho, it’s not your fault.”

Silence falls over them, letting the weight of their words settle into their beings. He brings her forehead toward his as fresh tears fall from her face wetting his skin.

“Kitty cat, I’m sorry for yelling.”

She kisses him lightly, “Me too.”

He kisses her again, and again, and again, Until the light, chaste kisses become deep and full of lust. Her hands find solace in his hair as her lips grant his tongue entrance. He pulls her closer to him, hoping that she can feel his erection through his pants. The feeling of him grinding against her sleep shorts elicits a moan from her mouth that makes him harder. They break for air, a line of saliva connecting them as their pupils dilate.

“Fuck I wanna keep going but you’ve had a long day.” He tries to pull away from her only to be brought in for another breathless kiss. His hands automatically went to her hips. “Kitten,” he moans into her lips.

“We have the whole weekend for me to treat you right. The whole weekend for you to be screaming my name, calling me daddy,” he smacks her ass at that comment earning a hiss from (Y/n) which ended up making her even more wet. “But we need to sleep.”

“Fuck you Shouta,” she whines. “I wanna fuck you now. I’m already so fucking wet for you and I know your dick is itching to be in my mouth or better yet in me.”

Aizawa grunts at the implications but stays strong. “No, sweetie. As much as I really want to, we gotta sleep.”

“Please I want to forget he touched me so please do something or else-“

At that she’s quickly pinned to the bed with the strong man above her. “Don’t forget,” he whispers, “you asked for this.” He slowly drags her bottoms down her legs, exposing her dripping sex to him. It took everything in him to not move too fast. Once her pj bottoms were thrown across the room, he situates himself between her legs, rubbing his hands up her calf, to her thighs enticingly slow. A pressure is felt on her hips as she’s being held in place by her lovers grip.

On instinct her hips buck slightly, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. The feel of his breath on her inner thigh sends her thoughts into a frenzy, only for him to place his lips around the sensitive skin. His kisses are feather light that they almost don’t feel like they’re there, but she’s reminded as soon as his teeth make contact with her skin. A whine escapes her lips at the action, making Aizawa growl.

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so wet for me.”

“Mhm, ah, only for you Daddy- ah fuck!”

All his restraint came undone at the pet name as he wrapped his lips around her folds, sucking and tonguing her with earnest. The way his tongue would flit in and out of her wet hole drove him crazy; it was like she was made for him and only him. He continues to lap at her folds, already starting to feel the pressure build up within her.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum for Daddy this early, eh? All I’ve done with eat you out and I’m not full. Plus,” he sneaks a finger into making her hiss and cuss, “I don’t think you’ve had your fill yet Kitty cat.”

Her moans and whines are music to his ears as he doesn’t let up his ministrations. Now two fingers deep into her, he begins to scissor her open while sucking on her abused and pronounced clit.

“Ah, fuck Sho. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” (Y/n) is breathless as her back arches off the mattress for the umpteenth time. She can feel him smile against her as he lifts up to face her. “Then cum Kitten, cum for Daddy.” His motions speed up and upon hearing her scream out his name mixed with curses, he lets up. God, she looks beautiful like this. Her body is covered in a glimmering layer of sweat, her stomach moving in time with her rampant breathing as she comes down from her high. No one else will get to see her like this, no one. Aizawa wipes away sweat from her brow and leans in to let her taste herself on his tongue. The action alone is enough to make him want to burst, which he is tempted to do.

“Damn, you’re still so wet and slick for me,” he notes swiping a finger against her to reaffirm.

“Babe, rollover. I wanna ride you.”

The lovely man above her lifts an eyebrow at her request, “as you wish, princess.” He is then forcibly pinned, almost like what happened to her not too long ago. “Fuck, you look so hot from down here babe.” He knows that she needs this, to feel to be in charge and take the lead. So he doesn’t help her line up the tip of his hard cock to her entrance, and he doesn’t push himself up into her like he wants.

A wanton moan escapes his lovers lips as she finally settles herself on his cock. She feels the grumble and twitching from her his dick inside her and the feeling is euphoric. The pro-hero’s breath gets shallower as he waits for her to move on him, again holding himself back from taking charge. Once she starts bouncing on his cock, all he can do is whisper and moan out praises and curses. “Fuck, Kitten. That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah babe? You like the way I’m riding your cock?”

He hisses, “fuck yeah. Please do it more- unf.”

Suddenly he feels a new and ecstatic feeling as she gyrates her hips in ways that have him seeing stars. He’s trying to figure out if there’s some kind of pattern. And then it hits him.

“You spelling your name on my cock, yeah?”

A gasp for air is heard from both of them before she responds, “I’m just, ah, letting you know who this belongs to baby.”

“Ah fuck, Kitten, I’m gonna cum soon. But first,” his voice lowers as he grabs her breast in his hand. His thumb flicks over her nipple, earning another moan before he wraps his lips around it. His tongue continues to work the hardening bud as his hand kneads her mound. His free hand works its way to her clit and begins to rub it fiercely.

“Fuck Shouta, if you keep doing that…”

A slick pop is heard as black eyes bore into lust filled ones. “I know Kitten, we’re so close. Come on, let Daddy cum. Let me cum inside baby.” “Yes, yes ah fuck- FUCK!”

The melodious sound of moans and whimpers fill the once noiseless bedroom as the couple comes down from their highs. They fall onto each other, sweat covered and full of love for each other. Their breathing starts to slow the more they wait out, still being connected by their sexes. (Y/n) is the first to move as she slowly removes herself from her boyfriends embrace, whining at the loss of contact. Aizawa leans up slightly to take in her form and beauty.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some water.”

He pecks her cheek and leaves the room. Once he returns, he sees (Y/n) and fondly smiles. She had finally fallen asleep after everything was said and done. He rolls his eyes but continues to clean up their little mess. He leaves her water glass on her nightstand while he had finished his.

Aizawa pulls the covers over the two of them as he cuddles into his girlfriend, watching her sleep soundly. She looks ethereal right now, no problems or stress on her features.

“I swear I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

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

ha ha hahahahaha it’s so long whoops but yee if the option is there the taglist is open! @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo @cupcake-rogue

#i did the thing #my writing #perchance #aizawa x y/n #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha aizawa #bnha x y/n #aizawa shouta

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overwatch-does-stuff · 3 years

Text

Lindholm Family Headcanon Dump!

I know Michael Chu retracted the statement that Torbjorn has a bunch of kids, but Chu just quit so I make the rules now. It’s a LONG post under the cut because I got carried away. Mostly starring Torbjorn, but featuring Ingrid, Reinhardt, and Brigitte (plus a bunch of other kiddos that exist but I don’t have headcanon names for yet oops.) There won’t be any Bastion in this one because that’s an entire other post’s worth of content.

- Torb has a big family. He and Ingrid had a couple children of their own while he had a stable position in Overwatch, but they found out that they loved having little children around the house, so after all of their biological children moved out, they chose to volunteer in the foster system! This lead to them adopting at least four more kids. - Which means they drive a huge van everywhere. - Both Ingrid and Torbjorn are masters at driving as a result. - They’re exactly equivalent in skill with one exception: Ingrid can parallel park the van, a skill he has yet to figure.

- Their house is pretty big (the Overwatch paycheck paid well, that, along with Ingrid’s income,) so there’s plenty of room for all of them. - There’s three levels: upstairs (for the bedrooms and playrooms,) downstairs (for entertaining spaces/the kitchen and stuff,) and finally, the basement, which is Torbjorn’s personal workshop. - Most third world countries would kill to have a workshop as good as his. - It’s all because Ingrid spoils him so much. He gets just as excited for Christmas as his kiddos do. - “The latest arc welder? Aww, honey, you shouldn’t have!” - Ingrid doesn’t work in his field, but she listens to his special interests dumps, and puts in enough research of her own, that she knows just what to get him every year. - Ingrid doesn’t like getting gifts as much as he does, so for Christmas, he always makes sure to spend quality time with her. He jokes that he ‘sucks at planning dates’ but he really doesn’t! For her, it’s nothing but the top restaurants and most exciting experiences. She loves going ice skating in particular, something that he hates but will always do with her. - Torbjorn and Ingrid split the cooking equally. They’re a bit traditionally gendered with what they like to cook, with Torb leaning more towards grilling and Ingrid preferring baking, but it suits them just fine. - Their grill, along with every other cooking contraption in the house, has been upgraded in some way. In fact, Torb’s the one who grills only because Ingrid still can’t figure out how to use the damn thing since he upgraded it. - Their house is covered in contraptions of all sorts. Other than the grill, Ingrid utilizes every single one of them. Meals get served and sent around via chutes. The floors sweep and mop themselves automatically when they’re dirty. The dishwasher loads, washes, and unloads itself in record time. - You know the zany contraptions in the Addam’s family house? Think that, but more brightly colored. - However, Ingrid’s taste in interior decorating is the opposite of gothic or minimalist- she loves quirky, unique features and bright colors. - She loves thrifting. - The huge chair they got for Reinhardt in the living room was a thrift store find that she’s still very proud of. - She also has an old-fashioned “live laugh love” wall with all of the family portraits. She knows it’s cheesy, but it’s nostalgic for her. - She doesn’t just bring furniture home. She also brings home cats. - That’s right. Brigitte got her cat love from Ingrid. - It’s a long-standing tradition, with the first cat she brought home was over thirty years ago when they were a new couple. - Torbjorn swore that it would be her cat and that he wouldn’t take care of it. - He was wrong. - Very wrong. - He now loves his cats and calls them cutesy nicknames in whatever language he feels like in the moment. - He built them automated feeders, automated litter boxes, and even some automated toys. He spoils them rotten. - Every time Ingrid brings home a new cat it’s the same routine. He swears that this will be the last one and that he’s not taking care of this one! But that’s wrong and he knows it. - But, because Ingrid’s always bringing things home, she’s a little more tolerant when Torbjorn brings. . . a specific Omnic. . . home.

- But that’s a whole other fanfic that I would need to write, so instead, back to the parenting! - Ingrid is 100% a feral soccer mom. Torbjorn is just as bad. - They’re the ones screaming their lungs out at sports games. - They have a house rule where their kids have to participate in one extracurricular sport. It can be school teams, club teams, or even just working out on their own, but fitness is something that both Ingrid and Torb consider important. - Torbjorn, of course, built his own gym in the basement. He trained with Brigitte, and now he trains with another one of his daughters who’s taken an interest in weight-lifting. - But this all doesn’t mean that the Lindholms discourage more creative talents! - Torbjorn crafted a giant steel board where any arts and crafts get hung with magnets. One of his little boys is an artist and he couldn’t be more proud. - Brigitte experimented with metal art when she was a teenager, and many of her pieces are now permanent fixtures in the Lindholm home. - She crafted a particularly beautiful string of lights that hangs above the dining room table.

- Now it’s time for Uncle Reinhardt!!! - Okay, so maybe he’s called just ‘Reinhardt’ by the older kiddos, but everyone knows he’s essentially an uncle in all but blood. - He’s been invited to every holiday celebration for about. . . actually, he’s just always been there. - He’s a true multi-generational staple. Brigitte can’t remember a holiday without him, and now the younger kiddos are getting doted on by him every Christmas. - Rein loves telling stories for the children. He spends the entire car ride there planning his multi-hour epics. - Now that she’s older, Brigitte sometimes helps with the storytelling, contributing sound effects and such. - Something which just causes Torbjorn to laugh and shake his head. - Reinhardt also loves nothing more than being a walking jungle gym. As soon as he walks in the door, he’ll grab the nearest kiddo and put them on his shoulders. He’s often seen walking around with a kid in each arm and usually an extra hanging off his back. - Sometimes he gives Ingrid a heart attack when he starts throwing kids around, but hey, she’s known him long enough at this point that she (mostly) trusts him. - Everyone gets sad when Reinhardt has to leave, but he insists that there is justice that needs to be done. He soothes the kiddos by promising an even better story when he gets back.

- Now it’s time to get sad. . . here’s my Brigitte headcanons. . . - Brigitte was REALLY close with her father growing up. She spent so much of her time in his workshop learning from him, as one of the only Lindholm children to take a liking to machinery and engineering. - However, when she moved out. . . she found it difficult to escape his legacy. Everyone, many of the older industry professionals and the like, expected her to be just like her father. They tried to cajole her into finishing old weapons designs that Torbjorn had abandoned. - It was then that she learned the full extent of Torbjorn’s involvement in the Omnic Crisis. - She had a lot of trouble reconciling this news with her love for him. It’s still something she had great difficulty with. - This shock played a big part in her decision to give up on finding a job in the industry and instead accompany Reinhardt on his travels. - It wasn’t a decision that Torbjorn endorsed, which hurt their relationship even further. - But it’s not like he doesn’t try to keep in touch. They call every other weekend or so to catch up, but there’s always a tension between them that neither one is ready to address. - They will talk about it someday. They’ll figure things out. They care about each other too much for either one to give up. - In the meantime, though, Brigitte has gotten a lot closer with her mother. She calls her much more often. - They talk about all of the things that Brigitte wasn’t all that interested in when she was younger. Stuff like fashion, makeup, and more traditional advice, such as how to get a date or what it feels like to fall in love. - Ingrid also makes sure to show her how the cats are doing over the online call.

- To be truthful, Ingrid isn’t too worried about Brigitte’s decision to live the rough-and-tumble lifestyle. It reminds her a lot of her own young adulthood, where she decided to pick up everything and move to the big city to get away from her parents. - She’s quick to remind Torbjorn that her own little rebellion is how they came to meet whenever he gets worried about Brigitte’s decision. - (They met at Ironclad. The only job Ingrid could find after her big move was working secretary. She fell head-over-heels for him immediately, while it took him a while to warm up.) - (Their first date was just walking around the city, with Torbjorn talking almost the entire time about random things he saw. He’d see the newest cars on the street and dive into what he knew about that industry. They’d pass by a construction sight and he’d point out what tool designs were similar to the ones he was working on.) - (When he realized that she was actually listening to him and taking him seriously, he agreed to a second date and never looked back.) - They aren’t a perfect couple- they’ve had their fair share of arguments, especially because they’re both deeply stubborn, but they’re always able to work it out in a way that makes them both happy. That skill is why they’ve lasted so long. - One thing they’ve never argued about, though, is Torbjorn’s commitment to duty. When they started dating he made it clear that his work was very important to him. Ingrid made it clear that she was willing to be patient. - It got hard when he was away for months at a time with Overwatch during the Crisis and its aftermath, but through constant online calls they managed. - The biggest surprise of Ingrid’s life was when he told her he wanted to have kids when the Crisis ended. - Turns out, having a major life crisis about how your career impacted the world makes someone want to find another purpose in life besides their career. - And thus, they dove into parenthood together. - Now they both couldn’t be happier :)

#overwatch #torbjorn lindholm #overwatch torbjorn #ingrid lindholm #reinhardt #overwatch brigitte #brigitte lindholm #I have so many feelings about Torbjorn and his family. . .#I'm not sure this is very articulate but eh #who cares #it's content

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writeroutoftime · 4 years

Text

first fights

pairing: james (teotfw) x reader (requested by: anon)

summary: when you and james get into your first fight, harsh words are shared, and you leave, scared of your boyfriend. now he must try and make it up to you.

warnings: couple arguing (?)

words: 1640

a/n: this is another request that is so, so late, which (again) I apologize for! however, I hope that you enjoy it and that you see this, now that this is up. it is always interesting to write for james because his character can be hard to pin down sometimes, so I hope I did a good job. enjoy and have a fabulous day!

oOoOO

There hadn’t been some grand declaration of love or showy display of romance when you and James got together. Instead, it had been a quiet, yet heartful, conversation at lunch one day, and here you were five months later. Despite what everyone thought of yours and James’ relationship, it had been wonderful. Sometimes you worried that you had yet to have your first fight, but quickly dismissed the thought each time. If you and James hadn’t fought yet, you weren’t going to provoke anything.

While others criticized you for going out with the ‘freak’ of the school, you couldn’t care less. James cared for you and you cared for him. Besides, you did not find James to be a ‘freak,’ he was just extremely private and shared very little about his past. All that you knew was that he lived with his dad, and that his mum had passed away when he was younger, and you respected what James did and did not want to share with you.

Part of this secrecy was that James had yet to invite you to his house when the two of you spent afternoons after school and your days together on the weekend. Normally, you hung out at your house or at the park, but today your parents we’re hosting friends for an early dinner, and therefore, you could not go.

“Could we go to your house, today?” you asked casually as you and James walked close to each other in the hallway, fingers brushing against each other every few steps.

James tensed at your question and begin to fidget with the book curled to his chest. “Um, I don’t know. Couldn’t we just go to the park or something?” he asked.

You laughed at his suggestion, not realizing he was serious. “It’s pouring, James.” you reminded him, your statement further justified by a large clap of thunder. “Come on, I’ve never even seen your house before. Please?” you pleaded.

“Okay.” James relented and you squeezed his hand as a thanks.

oOoOo

When the two of you arrived at James’ house, he quickly ushered you inside and tried to steer you towards his room, but his success was stopped by a voice that came from the kitchen. “That you, James?”

There was a long stretch of silence before James finally answered. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, a bearded man rounded the corner who was just a bit taller than James and balding. Though the resemblance wasn’t perfect, there was enough there for you to infer that this was James’ dad.

“Who do you have with you?’ he asked cheerfully as he wiped his hands on a tea towel.

Another stretch of silence before you stepped in front of James and stuck your hand politely to shake the man’s hand. “I’m y/n, James’ – “

“Friend, my friend.” James interrupted, hurriedly and glancing down at the floor.

His dad looked between the two of you for a moment before he smiled. “Well it’s nice to meet you. I need to go and grab some things for dinner, James. I’ll be back soon, so no funny business.” he joked and walked out the door you had just come in.

Wordlessly, James lead you into the, now, vacant kitchen. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Sure.” you mumbled, not certain how to feel about what just occurred.

Neither you nor James spoke as he prepared a snack, which was normal for your relationship, but the once comfortable silence now felt heavy and awkward. Eventually, James placed the cut apple on the table, and you began to work on your homework. The only conversation came in mumbled questions about the correct answer.

When the silence became too much, you snapped. “Why did you tell your dad that I was your friend?”

James’ only response was the scratch of his pencil against paper.

“Are you ashamed to be with me?”

“No.” he mumbled.

“Do you want to end our relationship? Is this your messed-up way of telling me?” you continued to interrogate, desperate for an answer.

This caught his attention, and, finally, he looked at you incredulously. “No, that’s not it.”

His clipped responses were beginning to annoy you. “Then what is it?” you asked, exasperated. “We’ve been together nearly half a year, and this is the first time I’ve been to your house. You began, your frustration and insecurities rising to the surface.

James rose from the table and walked away from you, leaning against the counter, silent and his back turned to you.

“When I finally do meet someone in your life, you lie about the fact that we’re in a relationship!” you continued, James’ silence only egging you further. “I mean sometimes I feel as though I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!”

“That’s not true and you know it.” he responded, his voice low and dangerous.

His back was still towards you, and all you could see were his tensed shoulders, his fist clenched around something, and you could only guess that his facial expression matched his body language. You knew the things you said probably brought up James’ insecurities and further justified the things people said about him, but in the moment you didn’t care. You wanted him to understand how you were feeling.

“Really?” you countered, voice rising quickly. “I just don’t understand why we’re keeping this act up. I mean people whispered and warned me this would happen, but I thought you were different. Maybe I was wrong- “

“Shut up!” James shouted and slammed the object that had been clutched in his fist – a knife – into the counter.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help the shriek that left your lips at James’ action, which caused him to let his guard down and turn to look at you. There was a frightened looking in your eyes, which absolutely destroyed James inside.

He took a shaky step towards you. “y/n, I’m sorry,” he began.

Before he could go any further, though, you stood from your chair and began to walk backwards out of the kitchen. “I’m going home now.” you whispered, yet your voice still shook, and soon your back hit the wall.

As James tried to come closer to you, you took the chance to turn and run outside of the house, passing his father who had just returned. James, who had followed you outside, stopped as he watched your figure retreat down the street, despite the pouring rain. While every instinct he had told him to follow you, he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see. Dejectedly, James turned back into his house and locked himself in his room, ignoring his father’s question.

oOoOo

Days passed and you ignored every call and text James sent you, and you pretended he didn’t exist each time he attempted to talk to you and school. The separation killed both of you, and made you wonder if your relationship would last. Who would have guessed your first fight would’ve ended like this?

Eventually, James had had enough and went to your house with flowers. It was your parent who opened the door, and they gave him a harsh look. While you did not share all the details about your fight with James, they knew something bad had happened between you both.

“May I see y/n?” he asked, the flowers at his side, lamely.

Before he could be turned away, you appeared in the door and gave your parent a look, and stepped outside with James, the door closed behind you. Awkwardly, you stood in front of your boyfriend (if you could still call him that), with your arms crossed and eyes trained on the ground.

James figured you wouldn’t be the first to speak, so he took a chance. “What I did was inexcusable, y/n. You have no idea how hurt I was when I saw you afraid of me. It was like every terrible thing people have whispered about me came true in that moment. Ever since you ran out, I haven’t been able to get the mental image of you, terrified, out of my mind.

It’s just that everything you said hit home for me, which doesn’t excuse my response.” he hurried to add on. “I know I’m rubbish at sharing details about my life, and I know I don’t always let you know how much you mean to me, but you do mean a lot. And I didn’t say anything to my dad because I wanted our relationship to be just the two of us. The more people who know, the greater the chance I have at losing you. I know, it’s stupid. Just another insecurity of mine, I guess.” James rambled, his voice getting softer towards the end of his impromptu speech.

“I’m sorry.” he finally admitted, looking you in the eyes.

For a moment, James was fearful that this was the end, but your gentle voice filled the room seconds later. “I’m sorry too, James. I said, awful, horrible things to you. Things that I don’t think are true.” you said as you grasped for an explanation for your horrid behavior. “My own insecurities got in the way, and instead of talking to you about them, I let them build and build until I snapped.” you said as a few tears ran down your cheeks.

“I truly am sorry, James.” you continued. “Is there any way you could forgive me?”

James gave you a soft smile at your question. “Yeah. Long as you can forgive me.” he said but left the statement open-ended like a question.

Nodding quickly, you wrapped your arms around James and just let him hold you. No words were needed and, once more, the silence between you both was comfortable and familiar. With your first fight in the past, your relationship was stronger than ever.

#james teotfw imagine #james teotfw x reader #teotfw imagine #teotfw #the end of the ***ing world fanfic #the end of the f***ing world #james x reader

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queernarchy · 3 years

Text

Statement of Elizabeth Williams, regarding a box of tapes found in the basement of her student house. Statement given October 18th, 2018, 105 Hill Top Road, Oxford.

[INT. OXFORD, 105 HILLTOP RD, UPSTAIRS BEDROOM]

[TAPE CLICKS ON]

[SOUNDS OF BETH STUTTERING, APPARENTLY SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING TO SAY]

[A SHAKY INHALE]

BETH

Right. Um. I, uh. Right.

[PAUSE]

BETH

To be perfectly honest, I’m not really sure what I’m doing. I- I found this. It’s the only one I’ve found in the box that’s blank. You know, I’ve never actually seen a tape recorder, like in real life? It’s quite - Well, I’m not even sure I know how to use it. Except … I do. Because I turned it on. I hit the button and now I’m talking to it, like it’s a person. Like I’m crazy, which … I might be. God, I might be.

[BREATH]

BETH

I probably am. In fact, I hope I am. I hope I was just dreaming it all up. Another sign of an overactive imagination. Spending too much time with those books and not in the real world, as mum would say.

[PAUSE]

Even if it was real, there is no reason for me to be talking to you - no, to this. [TO HERSELF] It’s a tape recorder, Beth, it’s not a person. [BACK TO NORMAL] But I am. It feels right to, to tell you. So I’m going to. I’m going to tell you what happened and then it’ll be over. And I can go back to my life.

BETH (STATEMENT)

I’m not great at this. The talking, the explaining, the storytelling, it’s not really my thing, at least not anymore.

When I was a kid it was easy, you know? I was always latching onto one thing or another, letting it consume my brain and then going on and on about it to whatever poor soul I could corner long enough into listening. My parents didn’t let me use a computer until I was well into my teens - something about them making nightmares worse? It was all bollocks, really, how would they know that if they never actually let me use one? But, anyways, before that I used to spend hours in the Wokingham library touring the sections. Once, when I was twelve, I read a book on oceanography: Vanished Ocean: How Tethys Reshaped the World, and spent a solid week scouring the corners of every bookshelf for anything I could find on ancient supercontinents or vanished fault lines before giving my report to the first unlucky and unsuspecting librarian who happened to be out in the open. [LAUGHS] Poor Mike.

I never cared what the genre was, nonfiction, mystery, fantasy, that was never important to me. I just loved the pursuit, and the compelling joy of walking through a new world. It was like a secret between me and the writer, something that we knew that nobody else did.

I always dreamed of being a writer too one day, but like I said, the storytelling part never actually came natural to me, no matter how many books I consumed. I suppose it must have been that lack of skill that bugged the people around me to no end. My father spent most of his time at work and I didn’t really get along with my brother or sister, but let’s just say that my mum was never as ... enthusiastic about my new interests as I was.

It wasn’t her fault, I was deeply, deeply irritating. But to my credit, the minute I realized that, well, that’s when I finally started to shut up. Thinking back, I think that’s where it started. I had always kind of been afraid of pretty much anything and everything. But when I got old enough, I started to routinely feel a gripping terror bubbling up through my stomach, my chest, shaking my limbs and rooting me to the spot whenever I spoke for more than a minute at a time.

All this to say, a few years ago I graduated secondary school with absolutely no skill in writing, the one thing I actually enjoyed, and a lot of anxiety. It seems inevitable that I would end up studying library sciences, doesn’t it? It’s practically what I’ve always done anyways - sorting and researching. And a future as a librarian with a couple cats and a cozy cottage, surrounded by books, well … there are worse things. Much worse.

I moved into student housing right before my first term started at Oriel. I call it student housing, but it’s not, not technically. The actual dorms were a bit out of my price range, so when I saw an ad looking for flatmates in Cowley, only a 20 minute bus ride from the college, it seemed meant to be. There were ten living here all together, to start. George moved into his boyfriend’s place last year, leaving nine of us. [DARKLY] Well, eight, now, I suppose.

It was a proper house, renovated a few years back, I think, but it was already thoroughly trashed by the time I showed up. It was one of those places that, the minute you walked through the door, you could just feel the grime lurking between the worn couches and stained mattresses, that musty smell of overuse. I tried to ignore it, I did, but one Friday night a couple weeks after I’d settled in, I waited until everyone had gone and walked to the closest shop to buy a blacklight. It went about as well as you’d expect. I spent that entire weekend scrubbing this house from top to bottom. I even cleaned Sam’s room. It’s not like I’m a germaphobe or anything, I just like to know where things have been. And if they dirty again, well, at least I know it’s the slobbery of my friends rather than that of strangers.

I didn’t touch the basement, though. None of us ever did. I’m not sure why, it was always just an unspoken agreement between us. I must have asked about it when I moved in. I must have. I mean, it would be one thing if it just never came up, if it was just an unfinished and unsafe part of the house we didn’t go down to and that was that. But, you know, thinking about it now, we didn’t even mention it, not once. It’s amazing, isn’t it, what you can ignore. Right up to the moment you’re devoured by it.

I don’t remember the exact moment things started to feel wrong. Can’t have been more than a couple weeks ago. It was subtle, at first. Doors swinging closed on their own, misplaced items, shadows that didn’t really ... fit. All things that could be chalked up to the mind playing tricks out of boredom, or fatigue - just a consequence of one too many sleepless nights. I didn’t really think about it too hard, even when Sam brought it up at breakfast, started insisting the place was haunted. That was easy to dismiss, she’s always going on about some supernatural this or that and I don’t believe in ghosts, but even that would have been easily digestible as an explanation.

It was like that for a few days, and all the while, that feeling of wrongness lurked in the background, pulsing beneath us. I honestly don’t know if I would have even taken notice if Milton hadn’t started behaving the way he did. Milton is - was - every bit the hipster film student of your wildest imaginations. I swear, I saw him wear a beret once, completely unironically. We’d been friends, as I was one of the few people who would listen to him ramble on about whatever arthouse film had caught his attention that week. We got on fine, well, actually, for flatmates at least. That’s not to say that I always liked him - I’d acted in a few of his student films, just by convenience, and he wasn’t exactly the most easy to work with. Everything always had to be just the way he wanted it, down the most minute detail. I swear, if he could have tied strings around our limbs and puppeted us from afar, he would have. [PAUSE] Sorry, that’s … that’s poor taste.

It had to do with the cassettes. You see, Milton had always insisted on using magnetic tape for his recordings, refusing to even entertain the idea of a digital camera. Something about being more authentic - I never understood it, but far be it from me to get in between a film major and their precious ‘analog charm.’ He loved those tapes, and we all got used to seeing dozens scattered throughout the house at any one time. Which is why it struck me as odd when last week, they vanished entirely. When I asked him about it, he just said that he'd been editing a new project that he needed them for. I wasn’t sure what kind of project would require that many cassettes all at once, but he certainly spent enough time working on it. He’d be locked away in his room for hours, sounds of whirring machinery coming from behind his door. When he did come out, he was exhausted, gaunt. I tried talking to him about it, you know, but he’d just ignore me.

It was strange behavior, sure, but not supernatural. Perhaps I would have chalked it up to stress, just a bad week, but that’s when the nightmares started. I had always had them, just a side effect of my anxiety, but they’d died down a couple years ago, after I moved to Oxford. One sleep after this started, though, I saw Milton. He was sat at a desk, a mess of cassettes unspooled into piles of thin black magnetic tape scattered across it. He was tangled in tape as well, almost every limb bound by it. He stared at the pile in front of him with dull eyes, completely still.

I didn’t realize until the tape began to lift his arms that he wasn’t just tangled in it. The long, metallic strands were embedded directly into his skin. The strands controlling every movement, he grabbed a spool, and, very slowly, raised it to his mouth. His jaw unhinged, farther than anything natural, and he began to stuff the tape down his throat. Again, and again, and again, until the entire pile was gone. I had never felt relief the way I had when I finally woke from that dream. I didn’t know that was only the first time that I would have it.

I woke from one of these nightmares late one night, heart beating fast and body sticky with sweat. I climbed downstairs, trying to clear my head, and found Milton sitting in the living room, staring at our small television screen playing his movie. At least, that’s what I assumed it was. There was no coherence, no audio, just rapid, violent black and white images that flashed across the screen sporadically and bits of static that faded in and out at random. Occasionally, I’d see the corrupted and disjointed image of my own face cross the screen, along with the other actors. The pattern was hypnotic. Every few minutes, the images would perfectly align, shaping spindly, bony legs that almost seemed to reach beyond the glass face of the TV.

After a while, I finally managed to ask him if he was alright, if the cassette had become corrupted somehow, if there was any way to fix it. He had always been so fiercely protective of his tapes, and with the state it was in I expected him to be furious, or devastated, at least concerned. But when he turned, there was none of that written into his face. Just a calm, blank expression. He studied me carefully for a long moment, before finally speaking. ‘We should feed our guest. She’s so happy to have arrived, and she is very hungry.’ He smiled after he said that. When he did, I could have sworn I saw that thin black film tape weaved inside him - webbed in the back of his throat and threaded right through the fleshy center of his tongue. I went back up the stairs immediately and locked my door, sat in bed until the sun came up.

I managed to avoid him the days after that. I thought about telling the others, trying to explain it to them, but I knew it wouldn’t end well. They wouldn’t believe me, why would they? I wasn’t even sure that I believed me. I thought about moving out, of course I did, but I had nowhere to go. No money, no real friends outside of the ones I already lived with. And who knows if I was just overreacting, imagining it all. So I decided I’d just ignore him as much as I could until he went back to normal or I’d saved up enough money for a new place.

It didn’t last, though. It was three days ago that it happened. It was late, and I had carelessly lost time sitting in the kitchen, studying for my history exam. I was alone when he walked in. He didn’t say a word, just, met my eyes with that calm look, like an invitation. Then he turned, with a finality I had never seen before, opened the door to the basement, and vanished down the stairs.

I shouldn’t have followed him. I could have just walked away, went upstairs and buried my head in my pillow. But I didn’t. I had to know. To see.

So, I walked down those old stone steps, dodging cobwebs. I don’t remember if I closed the door behind me, or if it did that part on its own. The cellar was warm, far too warm for October. It was unfinished, and empty save for an old, lidded cardboard box that sat neatly in the center of the room. A long, jagged crack ran through the floor and up into the far wall, as though the foundation had been damaged in an earthquake or something. Milton stood facing away from me, towards the crack in the wall, whispering something I couldn’t quite make out. I called out to him, and he turned to face me, expression wild with … something. Excitement? Panic? He had started to say something before, all at once, dozens of shadowy, spindly tendrils, adorned with what looked like coarse hairs crept from the crack and began to wrap themselves around him.

I felt that familiar terror bubble up, running cold through my veins, stronger than I’d ever felt it before. I wanted to run or scream, but I couldn’t. He didn’t scream either, but I could see the fear growing in his eyes, silently pleading. He didn’t move, not even as the tendrils began to … unspool him. They reached into him, breaking into his body like plaster, and pulled. He was hoisted from the ground, his limbs yanked in different directions and elongated. They just dangled there, arms and legs and head only still attached by threads of dark, magnetic tape, like an old, torn doll hanging together by string. And then the tendrils began to move him. They took their time puppeting him, and at the end, they pulled up his head, forcing his gaze to meet mine. His cheeks were strung up into a grin, but I saw the tears that flowed freely down his contorted face.

I don’t know how long I stood there, watching him stripped him apart, piece by piece, slowly and deliberately. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks, although I couldn’t tell if they’d come from the terror of it all or simply because I no longer possessed the ability to blink. I watched and watched. And when it was over, and he was gone, I waited. I waited for them to take me, a part of me just relieved that I didn’t have to watch anymore. I had already shut my eyes tightly before I understood that I could. I felt my hands twitch, regaining their will. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was alone, in that old, dank basement, with nothing but that long dark crack, and, in the center of the floor, the cobweb covered cardboard box, now open, and filled to the brim with tapes.

I don’t remember the rest of the night with any real clarity. I know I stood there for a while. I know at some point I calmly bent down, picked up the box, and walked it upstairs. I spent most of the last two days just staring at it. I’ve missed all of my classes. Sam has come to see me a couple of times, to ask how I am. This morning she actually brought me a plate of spaghetti. Imagine that, spaghetti for breakfast. I do appreciate the thought, even if it makes no practical sense whatsoever. Must be an American thing. She did mention that a man stopped by yesterday. Short, greying hair, lots of weird scars, asking about ‘strange happenings’ in the house. Sam told him about her hauntings, and apparently he had been, less than impressed. He told her he was sorry, and that she should move out, and then left without another word. [LAUGH] Creep.

I finally got up the nerve to look into the box. It’s pretty much what it says on the tin: Tapes and stationary. And cobwebs. So many goddamn cobwebs.

Nobody has said anything about Milton. I expect in the next few days someone will notice he’s gone. How do you explain something like that? I’ve been seeing it again, though. My nightmares … my nightmares have been getting worse. I keep ending up back there. I just watch, and watch, and watch, and I can’t turn away.

BETH (POST STATEMENT)

Statement ends, I suppose.

[STATIC RISES]

[STUTTERS, CONFUSED]

…. Statement? I, I don’t, I didn’t -

[STATIC FALLS]

[A SHORT SIGH]

I don’t feel better. I really thought I would. I don’t know why. Why in the world did I think that telling my stupid story to this thing would make me feel better?

The box is still sitting at the foot of my bed. I want to get rid of it, I do. So why don’t I just toss it? It would be so easy. Just … throw it out. But I can’t.

[RIFLING THROUGH THE TAPES]

Oh, huh -

[STATIC RISES]

This tape’s blank as well. I thought I’d sorted through them all, but I guess I missed one. Hm.

[TOSSES THE TAPE ASIDE]

They’re quite interesting, you know. I haven’t played any of the tapes yet, but I glanced at a few of the written accounts. Some of them are so illegible I can’t even read them but others are. Compelling. They make me feel, right. Scared, but [SIGHS]. I don’t know how to explain it.

I did some research on them, the ones I read anyways. I say research, I mean some quick Googling, a bit of asking around. They’re not real. The Magnus Institute, that’s the logo printed onto the stationary, isn’t a real place. And, as far as I can tell, these people … these people don’t exist. Anywhere. I mean, I found a few names that match but nobody who lines up to the descriptions and when I reach out to them they claim to know nothing about any of it. One of the people I called, Timothy Hodge, his name is, actually gave me the number of his psychiatrist. [LAUGH]

So maybe it’s fiction. A collection of short stories about fictional people and fictional suffering. Just a practical joke. Except, I know that it’s not. I can’t explain how, I just … Know.

I should probably move out. Only an idiot would stay in this place, after something like that. When I leave this room, I’m going to have to walk by that basement door. Every single day.. I should leave. I want to leave. I will leave. Just, not yet.

I need to understand, to unravel the mystery, and I’m getting the feeling that there is something in this box that’ll help me do just that. I’ll try to record whatever I find out. I do have another blank tape, after all. [HM] End recording.

[TAPE CLICKS OFF]

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #writing #horror #okay this is the thing i've been doing obsessively sjkdlfsf #i recorded it for myself because it's so fun to and also genuinely spooks me to listen to #anyways i should probably go make a spreadsheet for my internship bye guys #probably nobody is gonna read this so i dont even need to say but just in case ...please dont take her from me she took so much time #unreality #short story

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cxmetery-gates · 3 years

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER FIVE: COFFEE AND TINDER

SUMMARY: Lynn and Gabriel have a heart-to-heart talk about her last lover, with Gabe offering barely-legal suggestions. WORD COUNT: 2.45k NOTES: Gabe is probably my favorite character WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston, mentions of past relationships, break-up talk, h*tler reference?? never thought i’d write that

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

THE SOUND OF A BELL alerts the classroom that the period is over. Everyone had been already packed and ready to go minutes before Mr. Hiddleston even began wrapping up his lesson. Even when I suffered through chemistry or dragged my deflated soul through finance, I never thought of putting my notes and pens away so soon. I know more than one student saw the icy glare I sent across the room but, most importantly and unfortunately, I also know nearly all of them didn't catch the slight disappointment in Mr. Hiddleston's tone.

I truly despise most people.

From the moment class started, it's been so unmistakably clear how much he loves what he teaches, that he enjoys what he spent thousands of dollars on just to show people how great literature is. I understand that all too well— save the going into debt part. Teachers are often times so mundane with their knowledge, not realizing how the way they present the information affects our understanding and interest in such. This is why high school teachers are stereotyped as people who just want a paid summer vacation. However, Mr. Hiddleston really put effort into his theatrics, like his lecture was a play. People with a teaching degree should teach in this way— why else go penniless willingly? The overall excitement was entertaining. And for that, I have to give the man some credit.

"Alright, guys. We'll be diving into the second part of this lecture tomorrow. Have a good one, you are dismissed." I don't think Mr. Hiddleston needed to announce the last blip of his closing statement. As I said, people are so rude.

Ellie begins to shove her notepad and other items into her bag after our teacher finishes speaking, reminding me of my kind company. I, on the other hand, am scrambling to take the last bit of notes, trying to relay any possible concepts mentioned on to paper. While there might not have been much depth in today's class, jotting down every last tidbit of information could be life or death. Or perhaps I'm just anal-retentive when it comes to note-taking. By the time I finish the note, Ellie is already standing.

"Girl, hurry up. We gotta go!" She drags out the last vowel of the last word humorously.

I wave my hand at her, flipping pages and dodging paper cuts. "Go on without me. I'll be fine," I say, remembering that Ellie's homeroom is on the first floor and the farthest down the hall.

Rolling her big brown eyes, she sighs, walking backward. "I'll miss you poppet. I love you." Her fake British accent is terrible, but I don't bother enlightening her. Perhaps the slight discoloration in her cheeks and how fast she dashed out of the room was due to finding Mr. Hiddleston in ear-shot of her terrible accent. I bite my lip, forcing myself to look away out of sheer second-hand embarrassment.

Once all my belongings are together, I turn to leave.

"That truly was an awful mockery," Mr. Hiddleston says in my direction from the whiteboard. His long toned arms wipe the marker away as I begin to walk past him.

I chuckle. "I'll let her know you said that."

Mr. Hiddleston fakes a groan, placing the eraser on the marker tray then turning to face me with those oh-so-charming eyes. There's no other way to describe them other than mesmerizing. "Oh, don't tell her I said it. I like being liked."

"Being 'liked' is the least of your worries with these girls," I mumble, mostly to humor myself. However, I must have been louder than anticipated. The innuendo is heard and doesn't fly over his head.

A titter of a laugh is heard from the man, and I now regret the words I mumbled. "So I have been told," he replies, making a slightly uncomfortable face. I can't blame him; anyone would feel incredibly awkward if teaching a class full of people who would sell both kidneys just to see them without a shirt.

Not in my dreams would I have imagined having a conversation with Mr. Hiddleston about how everyone wants to nail him. While such a phrase hasn't been explicitly noted, I have a feeling both our minds are in the same gutter. And with that recognition, an awkward heat embraces me. I press my lips together tightly and offer a shrug. "I think the proper thing for me to say is good luck."

Seeming to take my word, Mr. Hiddleston passes me a smile. I can't read what the meaning is, but I'll take it nonetheless with a cough to clear my throat. "Ah, well, as much as I love juicy gossip and scandals, I've got a stuck up prune for homeroom, so I definitely need to get going." I send him a wave, making my exit as awkward as possible.

"Warntz?" He asks.

My nose wrinkles at the name. It eve sounds terrible, almost as terrifying as Trunchbull or Umbridge. "You betcha."

"Good luck, Lynn. You've got two minutes."

I want to give another sassy remark, but the teasing look I find when I look over my shoulder sends my body into another blush. Muttering something close to 'whatever,' I decide that leaving is for the best, even if that means awaiting an angry, shriveled up raisin.

══════════════════

Exiting the high school front doors a few hours before the final bell is like the biggest sigh of relief and 'sucks to be you' to everyone else. An arm wraps around my shoulder, one I embrace kindly.

"So, we've got an hour on our hands," Gabriel reminds me, hinting we'll have to come back to grab Ellie and River. As he speaks, I toss my head back on his toned bicep. I swear he works out too much for an unpopular loser. "What would you like to do?"

I groan, dragging my chin down to my chest. "Why do I have to decide? You know I hate making decisions."

"We're taking second lunch here, Lynn. It isn't life or death, you weirdo," Gabe chortles.

"Can we just go get a coffee? I feel like I'm about to pass out." For effect, I pretend to faint, nearly going complete limp before his arms can hoist me back up.

Rolling his dark eyes, my partner in crime pulls a set of keys from his pocket, swinging the lanyard around his fingers while we head towards a tattered white truck being held together by zip ties, duct tape, and love. "You and Elle with your coffee addiction."

"Could be meth," I retort.

Snorting, Gabe slips a key into the slit on the driver's side. I stand on the opposite, sending a humored smile. "Yeah, as if that's any worse."

We make it to the local coffee shop in no time. Luckily for us, the lunch rush hour in this town ends just as we hit the road if we avoid the main highways that is. Gabe's truck and the coffee shop have a similar aesthetic: crowded, old, falling apart with an overwhelming sense of home and personality. I can't count how many times I've broken down and received well off advice from him in both locations. It feels safe here and being around him. Gabe's like the much older brother (by a month) that I never had. We're both complete, utter assholes to each other about 60% of the time, enforcing the sibling-like bond we have.

"Thank you," I say sweetly to the barista as he places my cold brew in front of me and Gabe's hot chocolate in front of him. Mimicking my gratitude, Gabe gives his thanks as the employee shuffled away, awkwardly patting at his frizzy hair.

We both take a sip and visibly relax. "So, the first day of our last year of high school." Gabe is also the mom friend. "Tell me, dear, how were all your classes?"

"Oh, dearest mother, I feel so content with my choices," I reply with a vintage accent, acting as though my voiced popped in from the 1920s. "How ever will I pick a favorite?"

Wiggling his brows, Gabe replies, "I hear someone landed themselves in the hottest teacher's class."

Prompting to return to my normal voice, I roll my eyes, a huff expelling from my diaphragm. "He's definitely a piece of eye candy, I'll tell you that."

"Took four years to figure that one out? I didn't realize unobservant you are." Taking a pause, Gabe brings to smirk widely. "Maybe that's why you haven't asked River out yet."

My eyes grow wide, my skin goes red. Looking at anywhere other than Gabe's eyes and smirking lips is a must. "I don't know—"

"Lynn, everyone knows."

"Sure, but he doesn't." I pause. "Wait, does he?"

"Dude, no, of course, he doesn't. He still thinks you're heartbroken over Trinity."

Ah, yes, Trinity. Who knew a happy year and two months could be wholly demolished beyond reconciliation in a single weekend? Certain not I, as I have spent the past three months moving on and over the ordeal. An annoyed grunt leads my cheek to rest in my fist. "He thinks I'm not over it?"

Gabe leans forwards. "None of us do, Lynn."

I stay silent.

"What happened... you didn't deserve that. Hell, Hitler wouldn't have deserved that. Probably."

"Weeeeell—"

"Point is, I know you're still trying to find a way to heal. You've done a damn good job, duh. But River thinks you're still in love with her."

"Ugh. I'd rather eat hairy horse shit than see her ever again."

Gabriel nods, "I was hoping that would be the case."

Knocking my knuckles on the wooden table, I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Man, I'm tired."

"You know we're all here for you, right?" Gabe asks, leaning in just a few inches. I want to roll my eyes, tell him that he worries too much, but I can't. I can't tell him, not because I want him to shut up or to change the topic, but because he knows me. To Gabe, I'm an open book.

I run out of words to say relating to the topic. The breakup is old news, everything following the incident becoming irrelevant memories and irreplaceable time. I'm kidding myself when I say I've moved on entirely because Gabriel is right: I haven't. Sometimes my thoughts get stuck on what I could have done better or what I should have done to convince her to stay. Despite these annoying blips, I know deep down that it was inevitable, that her consistent cheating and the emotional manipulation would only surface for everyone to see in due time. If they hadn't— which I tried to keep from happening— I have a gut-wrenching feeling I'd still be in the situation. I had a feeling Trinity and me wouldn't last, but it wasn't until after things ended did I realize how well she had me wrapped around her finger. It's taken months to find my way out of her web, but I now face the scary journey of recovery. Thankfully, the process has not been as hard as I anticipated. After all, living two cities away certainly helps.

"Yeah, I know. I'm still going through the motions. I just want it to speed up, you know?"

Smirking and pulling his hand back, Gabriel replies, "Maybe a Tinder will help?"

My nose wrinkles at the mere consideration. Hooking up, dating apps, meeting strangers behind a phone— not really my thing. "Nah, I'll pass on that offer, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

"Hmm, maybe I'll look into a sugar daddy site. Money from older men might make me feel a bit better."

Gabriel takes a sip of his hot chocolate, grinning. "Well, you have an interesting way with teachers. If you're struggling in a particular class, maybe that little fantasy of yours will come true."

"Oh yes, I can't wait to hop on Mr. Riley's seventy-year-old dick."

"Mhmm, yummy."

At this, I bark into a laughing-while-painfully-cringing fit. Never being a fan of the phrase "yummy" and having it tied to a man that's so old he's basically decaying, I find every part of this new conversation revoltingly hilarious. I guess my sudden outburst of laughter caught Gabe off guard, staring at me with a shocked grin and fixing the infamous beanie he wears. I couldn't count how many times I've seen him without; you can't count to zero.

"It really wasn't that funny," he says with a small hiccup of laughter in his voice.

I settle myself now that I feel the eyes of everyone in the coffee shop staring. "You're right, but something about it made me crack." I flip my phone over to check the time. "Should we be getting back? They've got twenty minutes left."

Gabe nods and lets out a content sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

We decide to chug the rest of our beverages quickly— now room temperature and not as satisfying— before heading back out into the world. Away in the parking lot, the truck seems to beckon us to its forty-year-old, duct-tape-bound seats. As Gabe unlocks the truck doors, I let out a content sign and stare up at the sky. Above, the sun beams down on us and, like an idiot, I managed to look directly into it. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust but by that point, a dark cloud rolled over the blinding, distant star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@khadineberry

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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dear-selena · 4 years

Text

Sketchbook (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader): Chapter 5

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Female)

Summary: (Y/N) never understood science-based subjects, despite putting all her efforts into studying them. Kids at school bullied her, her father, Tony Stark, was disappointed in her, and the Avengers looked the other way. Peter Parker, her best friend, and secret crush for almost two years was always there supporting her when she needed someone. However, since he became an Avenger and her dad’s ‘favorite kid’, (Y/N) doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be around.

You find yourself struggling to exist with everything working against you, and instead of asking others for help, you turn to your sketchbook.

Warnings: Suicidal ideations, serious depression, anger

A/N: Hello! Guess who finally has time to write again! I want to thank you all for being patient with me while I was in school. I can assure you that updates will now come more frequently!

This chapter does mention suicidal ideations, so if this is a trigger to you in any sense, please feel free to skip this chapter! If there is a tag missing that you feel I should add, please let me know!

Chapter 5: Breaking Point

Words: 2132

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At that moment, you feel the world freeze.

Your heart continues to beat rapidly, but it was as if all life ceased to move around you, forcing you to grasp what your father just said to you.

“I’m taking you out if Midtown. For good.”

Eventually, you slowly come back to reality, and you feel your palms sweat, your breath quicken, and your mind goes fuzzy and dark. Tears start to prick your eyes, and you blink rapidly to prevent breaking down in front of your father. You must not have heard him right. He did not just say he’s taking you out of Midtown.

“But dad, you can’t do that. I’m starting to-”

“No buts,” Your father cuts you off, making you swallow your words, your defense, and your pride. “We’ll talk more about this once I come back home from the mission. In the meantime, I expect you to stay out of the gym and this lab. You’ll be expected to collect notes from your classes so that when I decide how to educate you next, you’ll be prepared. I’ve called Happy to come and watch you over the weekend because quite frankly, I don’t trust you to stay out of your restricted areas. Do I make myself clear?”

Body shaking, and tears threatening to pour out, you struggle to keep yourself together. Your father has always been strict, but never did you think he’d be this harsh. You didn’t realize how much he didn’t trust you, or how lowly he thought of you.

What was the point anymore? Nothing you did matters, not to the people that matter to you.

“(Y/N)?” Your father calls out once again. “I said do I make myself clear?”

With one blink, tears start falling from your eyes. Looking up at your father, you send him an aggressive look, one you’ve never shown in front of him before. “No, no you do not dad.” You spit out.

Taken aback by your response, your father raises his eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said no, you can’t do this. It’s not okay. Do you seriously think I’m not trying? That I’m not slaving myself away over studies that don’t make sense to me? I’ve spent hours trying to figure out what the hell science is, but that’s not enough for you. And now I finally figure out what to do with myself and you’re just going to take me out of Midtown? Do you even want to hear what I have to say? Do you even care about why I came to talk to you? Do you even love me?”

With your voice becoming harsh, practically screaming at your father, he hesitates to answer, bewildered at what you’ve just said to him. However, before he could say anything, you turn on your heels. “Screw you, dad.”

You run out of the lab.

Aggressively wiping tears from your eyes, you try to silent your sobs. You walk back into the common area, where the elevators are, and try to pass all the Avengers undetected. This shouldn’t be an issue, you were invisible to them anyways. You were just about to successfully make it to the elevators undetected when-.

“(Y/N)!”

Whipping your head around quickly, you see Peter frantically run up to you, fear on his face. “(Y/N), are you okay? What happened?”

Trying to turn back around and get away from him, you sigh sadly. “It’s nothing Peter.”

Strong hands land on your shoulders and you suddenly find yourself face to face with Peter, whose concern has morphed into something more serious. “It doesn’t look like nothing. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

You try to shake Peter’s arms off you, but his grasp is firm. You don’t understand why though. “Seriously, it’s nothing Peter, dad just scolded me again. It's no big deal.”

Peter raises his eyebrows, knowing you’re hiding something. “No big deal? (Y/N), you’re crying. That’s not nothing,” he proceeds to cup your cheeks In his hands, sending such unnecessary butterflies through your stomach. “I really want to help you and understand. Please, just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll-.”

Not being able to take it anymore, you push him off of you, a new set of tears falling. “You don’t have to pretend you love me, Peter. I know you don’t.”

Eyes widening, Peter’s mouth drops in shock. “Wait, what?”

You look down, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s okay Peter, no one loves me. I don't need someone to pretend to.” Taking a deep breath, you finally look into his eyes for one last time, his filled with confusion and what looks like pain. “Like I said, it’s nothing. Thank you for trying with me all this time. It meant the world, but I’ll be going away now. You can have my bedroom, I think you’ll like it.”

“(Y/N), what are you talking ab-.”

Before he could finish his sentence, you run, making a beeline for the elevator as it quickly opens and closes for you. Luckily, Peter doesn't stop you. But the fact that he just let you run away from him after you practically confessed how you felt really stung.

You shouldn’t have had your hopes up.

Finally reaching the first floor, you run out the automatic doors of the compound. Not caring anymore where you went, you just start running back into the city. After all, no one is looking for you, no one cares to.

Not even your father or Peter.

—————

Adding the final touches to your latest drawing, you lean back in your chair and observe your work.

When you reached the city, you found yourself wandering around, not exactly knowing where you were or what you were doing. In all honesty, you’ve never had the chance to explore the city, being locked in the compound most of the time. You never really had a reason to leave the compound before, as you didn’t have many friends, and the one friend you have (or at this point, had) was always being the Avenger you always wish you were.

One thing was certain though. You were never coming back.

Unsure of what you meant by that statement, you stumbled across a local coffee shop and spent the evening there. After buying yourself a drink and something to eat, you sat down at a table in the corner, took your sketchbook out, and started to draw.

While drawing, you couldn’t help but think of what you meant by “never coming back”. Sure, you’ve thought of ending your life before, but was that something you actually wanted to go through with? From the minimal conversations you’ve had about mental health, you’ve heard that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and that statement kind of psyched you out. You’ve thought about what it would be like to end your life, imagining scenarios of what the aftermath would be. But was it truly something you wanted to do?

Another thing you’ve thought of was simply just running away. Maybe you could change your identity, get on a plane or a bus, and move away somewhere far and start anew. That way, you’d have a clean slate to do anything you’d like. No Stark, no avengers, and no father to control you.

Just you and you alone.

After what felt like forever, you snapped out of your negative thoughts to admire your work, you realize that you’ve drawn a lined sketch of the Avengers posing for battle. In the front, your father and Peter stood proudly, the mentor and the mentee. However, something felt missing from the image.

In the corner of the page, you started outlining a small figure off in the distance, completely covered in shadow. From the looks of it, the figure had your hairstyle and body type.

It was meant to be you.

“Excuse me?” You look up to see the barista with a broom. “We’re closing shop now.”

Sighing to yourself, you nod in acknowledgment, pack your things, and leave the cafe. Back on the city streets, you notice how dark it got, and how abandoned they feel. After all, it was a little past 10 pm, but you couldn’t help how eerie the environment feels.

Not knowing where to go, you decide to wander the streets for the night. You don’t really care anymore, you just don’t want to go back home, back to the compound. Maybe you could find an alleyway to duck into and spend the night? Or perhaps you could call someone like MJ or Ned, and explain what’s been going on. Then again, they might tell Peter where you are, and the last thing you wanted was for him to come back from his mission just to look for someone as worthless as yo-.

“Are you lost, miss?” You hear from behind you, not realizing someone was there. You immediately tense up but continue to walk, fear slowly creeping up your spine. The more you walk, however, the footsteps quicken, and suddenly you could feel the person's presence right on your back, sending shivers down your body.

“Miss? Are you deaf?” The voice shouts now, obviously not taking a hint. You try to walk faster, and when a firm hand lands on your shoulder, you lose it.

Shaking the man’s hand off you, you turn on your heels, facing him for the first time. You immediately notice his black hoodie, hands in his pockets, and face covered by his hood.

“Don’t touch me.” You spit coldly.

“Oh… so she does speak,” The man comments, taking a step closer. A sly smirk appears on his lips, and you have to stop yourself from cringing. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing out here alone?”

Noticing your heartbeat pick up, and your palms sweat, you look down and try to keep your cool. The man, on the other hand, didn’t enjoy your silence.

You feel the man’s hand go under your chin. However, before you could register anything that’s happening, you quickly grab his hand and bend his arm back, surprising both him and yourself. “I said don’t touch me.”

There was a moment of silence between you two, you not realizing what was happening. However, the man was quick as he reaches into his hoodie’s pocket and pulls out a pocket knife, swinging it at you. You barely dodge it, almost caught off guard. Backing away a bit, you proceed to hone in all the training Natasha has given you, despite it being quite a while since you’ve last practiced, and started to attack this predator. You wish you had some sort of rope to act as a whip though, the fight would have been easier for you then.

But nevertheless, you were giving this man all you got, kicking him around until you knocked the knife out of his hand. Ecstatic that you caught him off guard, you pause for a moment, completely enthralled at yourself. Fighting had never made you feel so alive.

But that ends quickly when he suddenly punches you in the stomach.

You immediately fall to the ground with a thud, the air in your lungs completely gone and your back hitting the brick wall behind you. Gasping for air and tears forming in your eyes, you feel a stinging sensation on your stomach. Clutching it, you attempt to get up but stop when a red and blue-suited man jumps down and finishes your job.

Spider-Man backs the man completely away from you, leaving you to watch the battle from a distance. With the man completely flustered, Spider-Man webs him to the wall, knocking him out in the process. Turning towards you, the hero runs in your direction and kneels in front of you. His iron mask recedes back into his suit, revealing Peter’s distressed face.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” Peter frantically asks, grabbing your shoulders.

Looking into his eyes feels so heavenly and poisonous at the same time. On one hand, you were so happy to see him, thinking about how he basically saved your life. On the other hand, this was your battle, and Peter wouldn’t even let you have that. It suddenly dawns on you that you were trying to protect your life, and you couldn’t even do that.

Was there really no purpose for you?

“(Y/N), please talk to me.” Peter practically begs. Looking into his eyes, you can see he’s about to break down. He must be sick of taking care of you.

Sighing in defeat, and the stinging sensation in your stomach turning numb, you look away from your crush, ashamed of yourself. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Eyes widening, Peter’s grip on your shoulders loosen. “What?”

“I don’t want to live anymore.”

--------

A strike through your name means I could not tag you.

-Sketchbook Tag List-

@randomfanders-blog // @freestarlight // @depressing-as-shit // @sweetmilki // @supernerdycookietrashblr // @supermassiveblackhope // @starksthunder // @multi-fandom-headcanons // @adri1ii // @futureauthor03 // @maddie-laufeyson // @thejourneyneverendsx // @noakantor14 // @fangirlbookworm // @awesomedara // @motherhyuckerdude // @itswhiskeybitch // @kickstartmyheartmc // @deansbbysblog // @whatareyouhidingpeter // @aquaastrid // @mintywater7 // @bitcheswithbrokenhearts // @frog-face-wolfhard // @littlemissporter // @ppkrtingle // @rafaellannery7 // @choices97 // @eveningdawn222 // @babebenhardy // @emeraldrhee-grimes

-Peter Parker Tag List-

@sweetcoffeeblandtea // @house-arya // @jovialpeanut // @bookstoreblossom // @jackiehollanderr

-Marvel Tag List-

@sammghgecko

-Permanent Tag List-

@mindset-jupiter // @romance-geek // @imcharishope // @fakindob // @cutiekoa // @wowursofunny // @cals-cigarette // @supernerdycookietrashblr // @delicately-important-trash // @unlikelygalaxygiver

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shemakesmusic-uk · 3 years

Photo

This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to [email protected]. We look forward to hearing from you!

Emily Kate

Toronto-based recording artist, Emily Kate perfectly bridges the gap between country and pop with her unique sound and lyrical storytelling. Pulling from real life experiences, her music conveys relatable thoughtful messages weaved with fresh, soulful melodies. Her meaning filled lyrics coupled with her warm sound is often described as Kelsea Ballerini meets a motivational speaker. She has just released her new EP All In. “These songs have taught me how to love myself, feel inspired, chase my dreams, have fun and grow as a person,” says Emily. “They've been my reminder and helped me through heartbreaks, insecurities, and now they get to be yours. All In features a track which I wrote the morning after a fun night out. This upbeat song is about going out with friends and meeting someone who takes your breath away. Its lyrics are a twist on the common saying, you had me at hello, and instead, this song is about someone having you ‘The Whole Time.’” Listen below.

Emily Kate · The Whole Time

Jordana Talsky

Jordana Talsky is a singer-songwriter and vocal looper who fuses multi-genre influences into her own sound. She accompanies herself by voice with a Roland Boss RC505 loop station. Her ethos is to incorporate digital means into live performance in an organic way, and with the loop machine, she creates a choir on the spot with no pre-recorded parts. Her new single ‘Oh Yeah,’ represents a moment of awakening, like when you remember something you had forgotten about a dream that all of a sudden comes back in a flash, a moment to stand outside of yourself and contemplate, embrace, and inquire of your life. “It takes work, all the time, to choose not to look away and to be honest with ourselves,” says Jordana. “These moments, delicate and challenging, are insights into our authentic selves, that may offer a fresh vantage point from which we can choose to heal and evolve. Inspirational, fun and harmony-rich indie-pop, ‘Oh Yeah’ is about listening to your inner voice and taking faith in the spark you uncovered deep within you.” Listen below.

Jordana Talsky · Oh Yeah

Nimkish

To fully immerse in the multitudes of rising queer Indigenous star, Nimkish, is to honour the past, look ahead to the future, and bask in the resplendent present all at once. The Vancouver-based artist is fearless in her lyricism, confronting anti-Indigenous racism and colonial violence alongside other hard subjects like anxiety, grief and heartache. To the great tradition of singer-songwriters healing through their music, Nimkish brings a bright-eyed aim to flourish in all she has experienced. Nimkish’s lyrics give affirmation to past pain while living in the moment. To some it may sound like escapism, to others it may sound like moxie-driven R&B-pop pulsing through the club. What’s certain is her fortitude — she’s on a mission, combining the coolness and creativity of the TikTok generation with the lucidity and confidence of a grown woman. Nimkish’s anthemic new single, ‘YSB,’ features ASCXNSION and is about the need for healing, freedom, and to be heard. "’YSB’ is about the need for healing, freedom, and to be heard,” explains Nimkish. “Are you listening? Do you hear me? Am I screaming out into nothing? This song is about feeling like you can't get ahead, and specific issues that we as Indigenous women work through on a daily basis. Our generation has been left to deal with trauma and we are continually fighting for equity. It can feel exhausting to constantly try to be truly heard. I wanted to go deeper on this project and write about real shit. What we have created is anthemic, resilient, and confrontational, despite the vulnerability that it took to write about our lived experiences. This release is about showcasing Indigenous excellence and the need to amplify our voices. Our time is now – the future is Indigenous.” Listen below.

NIMKISH · YSB (feat. ASCXNSION)

Tana

Tana is an artist, writer and a topliner with charge and a unique flair for lyrics and melody. Her rich and diverse views on gay culture, have strongly influenced her musical and personal journey. Tana’s music is unapologetic, revolutionary, and liberating. At heart, Tana is a true artist, and is inspired by many things around her - people, sexuality, her heritage (being half Italian and Nigerian), the city she grew up in, and the LGBT community. She places diversity at heart and aims to make music that relates to the masses, whilst pushing her creativity at all times. Her array of influences create new ideas and sounds that break traditional boundaries. Think Halsey & The Weekend. She has just released her new single ‘Bad Habits (Keep On Coming)’. Tana says of the track: “I wrote ‘Bad Habits (Keep On Coming)’ over lockdown, and it’s about wanting to grow from a toxic relationship. I found myself holding onto flaws and limitations that really effected my personal growth, and writing about it helped me recognise these issues and learn from this experience.” Listen below.

Love Crumbs

Love Crumbs is a folk-rock and Americana group based in Massachusetts. Known for blending poignant lyrics with evocative vocal storytelling, their nostalgic, timeless, heart-on-sleeve sound harkens to a bygone era. They have just released their new single ‘Ellipses’. “The track is about trying to connect with someone and not being able to despite the best of intentions,” says Mike. “It's about the things that aren't said or are left unsaid. It's about a meaningful relationship that ended kind of suddenly. The person was typing to me (as evidenced by the "...") but I never got to hear their response. Closure isn't something that someone gives us, in the end. It's something that we have to come to on our own. The sonic influences for me on this track, probably in particular the chord changes in the verses are Neil Young, the pre-chorus Tom Waits. I wanted to stack Ali's vocals because it has an unreal sound (not occurring naturally, similar to Royals by Lorde) that can work in the right context.” Listen below.

Love Crumbs · Ellipses

Anniee

Anniee is an electronic artist and theatre composer based in Montclair, NJ just outside NYC. As a vocalist she has performed in a variety of styles and genres. Recently she has turned her attention to producing synthwave and retrowave tracks with modern and minimalist vibes. She has just released her new track 'Lonely Wolves'. "'Lonely Wolves' is moody and driving, with retro vibes and a modern sensibility—an intense journey exploring breakdown in relationship," says Anniee. Listen below.

Anniee · Lonely Wolves

Leah Rose

Emerging pop songwriter and producer Leah Rose has released her debut single ‘Goodnight’. The melancholic hue of ‘Goodnight’ arises from the sentimentality of a writer reflecting on a landscape they no longer exist in. The song was written and recorded in lockdown and is a prime example of how an artists’ time in isolation can result in the inevitable dissection of their past. Sonically, ‘Goodnight’ was inspired by artists such as Lorde, The Weeknd and Charli XCX. Leah Rose is a Cork-born artist who has spent the last 5 years based in Dublin. She spent much of that time honing her craft, finding inspiration in lyricists such as Alex Turner and Lana Del Rey. Strong imagery and colour play a huge role in Leah’s songwriting. Growing up with artists for parents meant that Leah was exposed to a range of visual art forms at a young age. She strives to create art not only through music but through her artwork, photography and overall visual aesthetic. “I see my songwriting style as atmospheric and somewhat abstract,” she says. “I love being able to use music as a tool to materialise the things I see in my mind. So when I write a song I try to place the listener right in the centre of my memories and daydreams”. Listen to ‘Goodnight’ below.

Leah Rose · Goodnight

Felyce

Felyce's alt-pop root influences shine through on her shuffling and atmospheric alternative Pop/R&B new single ‘Skin’. The Paris-based singer-songwriter Felyce shares the struggle she faced accepting the color of her skin while growing in France. Getting away from slow tempos, ‘Skin’ offers an energetic but still dark ambiance. Felyce wrote and performed ‘Skin’ and she worked with professional arranger Nicolas Lassus to make the song what it is now. She said in statement: "I wrote 'Skin' thinking about that beautiful story I heard once. A young black girl wondered why her skin was so dark and her mother told her the reason was because the sun loved her too much. That story really stuck with me". Born and raised in Paris, she spent most of her time between stage performances and school until high school when she put most of her focus on studying while writing her first full songs on the side. Felyce graduated from university in 2016 before starting a short career in HR but she realized that music was the only career for her and began learning production the next year while working on her debut EP Fear which dropped in 2018. She's been steadily releasing singles and crafting her sound since; embracing her formative influences, including British pop music acts like Sam Smith, Robbie Williams, Birdy, and American pop acts such as Lana Del Rey or Banks. Listen to ‘Skin’ below.

Kenzie Webley

Kenzie Webley has been writing songs since she was 13 years old but only started recording last year just before lockdown. Her new single 'Loveable' is out now to coincide with her finishing her A levels. Her debut album is almost finished and she already has the songs written for her second album! 'Loveable' tells the story of a couple arguing in public after a night out. It's from the perspective of someone who recognises their own culpability in the events. Listen below.

URARTA

URARTA’s new EP consists of four tracks centred around the issues of standing up for yourself and others, respecting the planet’s boundaries and looking out for your own. Musically, the band has its heart in punk, but simultaneously flirts with genres such as post punk, alt-rock, noise, Goth and indie. The lyrics are in English and in the dialect of Skåne –the southern part of Sweden where the band also has its geographical base. URARTA consists of Monica Richter (vocals), Ketty Hagmann (bass) and Tove Lorentz (drums). Listen to the song ‘D.I.Y’ below.

Vol 2: Vi Fick Fel Adress by Ursäkta Röran

#submission saturday #emily kate #jordana talsky #nimkish #tana #loe crumbs #anniee #leah rose #felyce #kenzie webley #urarta

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 6 - The Beach

Saturday had come and Varian and the rest of his new friends were all crowded in Wasabi's car. Wasabi had precisely enough room to fit six people, though perhaps a bit uncomfortably. He and Varian rode in the front seat, with Varian carrying Ruddiger in his carrying cage, while Hiro, Gogo, Honey Lemon, and Fred were squished together in the back seat. The robot, Baymax, was folded up inside his battery pack and tucked away in the trunk to make room.

Apparently today was a holiday and they were all heading to the beach. Well in truth the actual holiday was on Monday, but Americans spent the whole weekend in celebration. Said holiday was Memorial Day and was meant to honor warriors who fell in battle. However, despite this somber origin, most considered the weekend to be the official start of summer and would mark the occasion with picnics, parties, and public swimming.

For Varian and his friends though, this was the end of spring break. Starting on Tuesday, the university they now all attended would open back up and the summer semester would begin. The thought of which sent Varian's stomach churning with butterflies. He'd never been to school before and didn't know what to expect. He was filled with anxious excitement and to calm his nerves he looked out the car window to admire the scenery.

He'd been in this strange new world for a week now but he'd had little chance to admire it. For the past five days he'd been busy studying for his entrance exams for college. Passing the 'graduation' test in particular was important for gaining admittance into the school and Varian had to do some serious cramming to prepare for it. Squeezing twelve years worth of educational knowledge into his brain in less than a week.

Fortunately Varian was very good at memorizing facts and all his new friends were on hand to help him. On Monday, Hiro had helped him gather up the study materials he'd needed and told him what to expect. Wasabi gave him practice tests throughout the week and helped him pinpoint the areas he was weakest in. He was pretty good with math and grasped most of the science quickly, with Wasabi being on hand to fill in the gaps, but he needed help in other less familiar subjects.

Gogo had swung by on Tuesday and spent the whole day giving Varian a crash course in Social Studies, which was a combination of history, geography, and civics.

Varian took a special interest in America's founding and it's chosen form of government, which was unlike anything he had heard of before. They had no king nor royalty of any kind. In fact the country was founded by people who committed treason and fought a war to overthrow their ruler, and who then put into place a democracy made up of elected representatives instead. It most closely resembled the government of ancient Rome, before Julius Caesar had taken over, but was expanded upon to encompass a vast kingdom, larger than even most empires.

Varian had already thought San Fansokyo was an impressively large city, but was completely flabbergasted to know that not only was it not the largest city in the country, it wasn't even the biggest within its own providence; and there were fifty of these states that stretched across the continent from coast to coast with similarly massive metropolises in each.

It was mind boggling and it took him sometime to wrap his brain around the concept. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, he also had to catch up with some four hundred odd years worth of world events on top of that. But Gogo was a patient teacher and she carefully broke down everything into manageable chunks, giving him timelines, charts, and maps for him to refer back to. By the end of the day he had perhaps learned more in those eight hours spent with her than he had in his whole sixteen years.

On Wednesday, Fred had showed up to help Varian practice for the writing portion of the tests. He would have to complete two essays on any given subject for each of the two exams. Fred himself had actually completed one of the same tests, the S.A.T, just a few months ago and knew what the graders were looking for when it came to such essays.

Mainly, they just wanted to know if Varian could follow the basic guidelines of writing; paragraphs and sentence structure, grammar, spelling, and his overall ability to form an argument on paper. All things Varian felt pretty comfortable with, but it was nevertheless a good refresher of those basics. Essay writing and thesis statements were apparently expected of any student attending higher education and he would have to write many during the course of his studies.

Thursday, Honey Lemon stopped by to help Varian with Language Arts. Both tests would cover reading comprehension and even more grammar. Once again Varian was pretty comfortable with those two subjects, especially given the writing practice from the day before, and so they finished pretty quickly. Even with Honey Lemon adding in extra information about various important books and plays that had been written in the past four centuries, just in case any of them made it into the reading part of the exam. Though Shakespeare was still deemed the most influential even in this modern age. A fact which disappointed Varian; he personally thought Marlowe to be superior to the bard.

"You don't even like Romeo and Juliet?" Honey Lemon asked aghast, "But it's sooo romantic."

"But it's sooo stupid," Varian mockingly admonished with a laugh. Which in turn made Honey Lemon give him a not-so-serious pout.

"Look, what was stopping them from just leaving together in the first place?" Varian explained his point.

Honey Lemon opened her mouth to retort back but just as soon closed it again; she had never considered that question before. She screwed up her mouth in thought as she searched for a better answer.

"Weeelll, sometimes it's hard to leave the only home you've ever known. Isn't that why you want to get back to your world?" She asked him.

Varian just stared at her for a moment, thinking of an answer to give that didn't allow him to explain his past in detail. Finally he said, "I wanna get back because my dad is there. I couldn’t care less about Corona itself."

"You don't care at all?"

"It's just a bunch of buildings." He mumbled with a shrug, then he added, more assuredly, "What matters is the people in your life."

"I guess," She replied, "all I know is that I had a hard enough time just leaving Sacramento. Even though it's only an hour and a half away and I can still see my family whenever. I can't imagine what it's like to be lost in a whole other world."

Varian ignored her attempts to sympathize, not because he didn't appreciate the effort, but because he was ready to move on from the conversation. Instead he shut his eyes tightly and tilted his head back, trying to recall some of the new information he had recently learned. "Sacramento; that's the capital of California, right?"

"Yeah. But don't worry, no one actually memorizes all fifty states and their capitals. I only know like twenty or so." She admitted.

"Oh, good." Varian breathed in relief. Soon both he and Honey Lemon were just giggling, happy to relieve the tension in the room.

"Oooh, you know what? I brought my make-up bag with me!" Honey Lemon suddenly exclaimed, and just like that all previous talk about literature and writing gave away to other subjects, mostly chemistry.

Honey Lemon made her own cosmetics. It was a passion of hers to find new, safe, and 'biodegradable' chemical compounds to replace some of the more toxic stuff on the market.

"And absolutely no animal testing." She added in all seriousness.

She even sold her wares over the internet, shipping them to customers as they ordered them, as a means of making money on the side.

She poured out the contents of a rather large tote bag onto the floor and walked Varian through each item, what it was for, and how she had made it. Varian listened intently and even tried some of the stuff himself.

He found he didn’t care much for lipstick nor cakey foundation, the texture was off putting to him. He also didn’t like anything with a heavy perfume. However, he did like the eyeliner and the black fingernail polish he had previously bought. He was still fascinated by the concept of synthesized polymers.

They were both sitting on the floor, makeup strewn everywhere, laughing over nothing in particular, when Wasabi came home from his part-time job. Honey Lemon was in the middle of applying mascara to Varian’s eyes and he was trying his best not to blink but failing at it, which only sent both of them into more fits of giggles. Meanwhile, unnoticed by them both, Ruddgier had gotten into the powered blush and was making a mess in another corner of the room.

“I thought you two were studying.” Wasabi said with a hint of annoyance to his voice. He was tired from work and none too happy to find makeup scattered about his dorm room.

“Sorry,” Honey Lemon tried to say through her laughter, “but we finished early and I’d promise to teach Varian how to paint his nails.” Varian held up his hand to show Wasabi his newly painted nails as a way of response.

“That’s nice.” Wasabi replied back in a sarcastic tone. “Did you also teach the raccoon how to put on foundation?”

That’s when they both finally noticed Ruddiger. Varian got onto his pet and went to clean up the mess, effectively ending the study/make-up session.

The next day, Wasabi gave him two final practice tests and then it was time for him to take the real thing. He met Professor Granville at the school and, alongside a few other hopeful students, took the two tests.

The first test, the S.A.T., went smoothly, but he wouldn’t know his actual scores until his answer sheet and essay were sent off to be graded. The graduation test however was taken over the computer and it took several hours to complete with a few breaks between parts. He felt he could have finished sooner had he had the chance to take the test using a pencil and paper instead, as he found the mouse and keyboard awkward. But the positive thing about using the new technology was that he got his scores back sooner. He managed to pass all the parts, even with him just barely scraping by on the Social Studies section. His official certification would come in the mail, the professor told him, but for all intents and purposes he now had a high school diploma.

Which was apparently a big deal in this world. Earning a diploma was considered to be something of a rite of passage. Obtaining one meant you were ready to start entering the adult world and with it you could gain full time employment or seek higher education, like college. According to his friends, he should’ve been extra proud of this accomplishment since gaining a high school diploma at his age, while not unheard of, was unusual, and he had done it in less than a week when most took years to achieve it.

To signify just how important this was, all his new friends threw him a party at the Lucky Cat. Even Aunt Cass had pitched in and made him a special dinner. It was something called ‘sushi’ and she typically prepared it for celebrations like this one; having cooked similar dinners for both Tadashi and Hiro when they had graduated high school as well.

Varian was appreciative of her efforts, though he didn’t quite know what to make of the food itself. The ‘sushi’ consisted mostly of rice topped with raw fish wrapped in seaweed. The taste wasn’t bad but the texture of the uncooked seafood was weird to Varian. Fortunately, not everything was raw. There were different kinds to be had and Varian was able to pick out some that he did enjoy; ones stuffed with crab, egg, or just veggies. He especially liked the ‘dessert sushi’ made with tropical fruit.

He’d just finished recalling last night, when Wasabi loudly proclaimed, “We're here!”

There were whoops and joyous yells in response from the various passengers and Varian looked out the front windshield to see the familiar blue streak that was the ocean just up ahead. Wasabi parked the car in the designated parking lot and then they all piled out of said vehicle and made their way down to the beachfront.

The sandy beach was tucked in between two rocky cliffs and you had to walk down a wooden stairway to get to it. As he made his way down the stairwell, Varian could look out and see the expanse of dark blue ocean and lighter blue sky go on forever. It didn't look much different from Corona's coast. What did look different were the inhabitants. Corona's coastline was usually deserted save for the ports and the occasional fishing boat off in the distance, but here the beach was a mass of half naked bodies and swarms of vacationers enjoying the summer sun. Spread out along the sandy tolls were towels, blankets, folding chairs, and umbrellas of all sizes with scantily clad people lounging upon or underneath.

Varian tried to remember Gogo's words from a week ago, about how this was deemed normal and not to bring himself to attention by starring. But everywhere Varian looked he was met with the sight of a lovely lady's long legs or a handsome lad's toned chest. Not looking was very much like asking a small child in a pastry shop to hold their nose and ignore the sweet smells of pies and cakes surrounding them. Fortunately, he was able to keep his composure long enough for them to reach the shore and find a spot to set up camp for the day; managing not to hold his gaze for too long on any one person or thing.

They had brought a variety of towels and folding chairs of their own, along with a large parasol and ice chest full of food and drink for the day. Varian and Wasabi had spent that morning making sandwiches for everyone; tuna fish salad, sliced cucumbers with butter, jam mixed with a spread made from ground nuts, and some sort of mystery meat called 'baloney' paired with cheese. Varian couldn't figure out if said baloney was made from ham or chicken, as it didn't really taste like either, though it also didn't taste bad per-say. They also stored small bags of crispy fried potatoes, individually wrapped miniature cakes, and bottles of some sort of fizzy drink called 'soda' in the chest as well. Varian found the carbonated sugary drink to be odd but surprisingly tasty.

While everyone was setting up Hiro unpacked Baymax from his portable charger, the robot inflated to full size again before stepping out, and Varian released Ruddiger from his carrier. The raccoon was grateful to be let out of the small cage at last and promptly snuggled up on one of the folding chairs under the sun to catnap. Varian didn't think the leash necessary as there really wasn't any place for his pet to run off to.

Once done with setting up, the gang then proceeded to unpack the various toys and games they had brought along as well. There was a game you played with a net, like tennis, only you used your hands to pass a 'volleyball' over said net instead of a racket and you didn't want the larger ball to touch the ground at any point. They also brought a flat discus called a 'frisbee' which you threw from person to person. Gogo had with her a flat wooden board used to ride the waves that broke along the shore. Which she let Varian and her other friends try out for themselves.

Varian however was not very good at any of these new sports. While he was fairly athletic, capable of running, climbing, and whatnot, he had never been the best at coordination. More often than not he'd simply trip and fall in his efforts to keep up with the ball or maintain his balance on the surfboard.

Instead Varian found himself wandering off occasionally to try and strike up conversations with new people. He'd hadn't had a lot of social interaction while growing up, especially with others his age, and he wanted some practice before he started school in a few days. Hopefully to ease the awkwardness of being dumped in a world that he knew next to nothing about.

However every time he'd smile at a pretty girl or make eye contact with a cute boy his age, his efforts to make small talk were sabotaged by some mishap or other. Either his own clumsiness would get in the way or he'd put his foot in mouth, as the saying goes. One particularly unfortunate incident involved him getting beaned in the back of the head from a misthrown volleyball while trying to chat up a couple of vacationing teens. Fortunately, his embarrassing failures at flirting would be followed by one of his new friends trying to engage him with some other activity so he was never left alone with his awkwardness for long.

Swimming, sand castle building, more games; like 'chicken', where you tried to push one person off another person's shoulders into the water, or 'Marco Polo' where one person had to find the others with their eyes closed, using the ancient explorer's name as a call and response, digging for seashells, and other similar actives were to be had to pass the time away.

Finally, the sun started to hang low in the sky and they all headed back to the car. They were wet, tired and covered in sand. They tried to knock the irritating substance off their shoes and things before all squeezing back into the ill fitting vehicle in order to head back home. They all sat on towels so as not to get the seats wet and their bathing suits and cover up clothes all clung to them dripping with sea water.

Varian sat again in the front seat, only this time Honey Lemon had asked to hold Ruddiger on the ride back. She, Gogo, Fred, and Hiro were all fast asleep in the backseat with Baymax once again tucked away in his battery case. Wasabi had the radio on in order to keep himself awake as he drove (and to drown out Honey Lemon's snoring if he was being honest). The music that filtered out of the speakers was called 'classical' music, which just meant it was mostly orchestral music from ages past. To Varian it sounded very modern and sophisticated to his ears, like chamber music played for royal courts, not the more rustic folk music he grew up on.

Right now a gentle suite with piano and strings was playing and it along with the steady motion of the car moving was beginning to lull Varian to sleep as well. He looked out again at the houses and scenery that passed by and thought of the day's events and the fun he had had as his eyes grew heavy. This world was so much more inviting and nicer than his own, it was a shame he'd have to leave it soon, but his Dad needed him and that was that. And with that final resolve Varian drifted off to dreamland.

youtube

#varian #tangled the series #BH6 the series #Hiro Hamada #Honey lemon #ruddiger #Wasabi #GoGo #Fred Frederickson IV #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Snow or sand? I love the beach, but hate the sand. It literally gets everywhere. I love the snow, though. I wish it snowed where I live. I’ll have to go with snow.

Do you like sour candy? No. I don’t like the sourness and it irritates my mouth.

If anyone, who did you sit with at lunch today? It’s only 5AM. I’m also not in school nor do I have a job, so I just have lunch at home either by myself in my room or with my mom in the living room or her room. That’s if I have lunch at all.

What is the last letter of your favorite song? I couldn’t choose just one favorite song ya’ll know this.

Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? No.

Are you a clumsy person? I bang my hand and elbow a lot.

How about disorganized? My room is a bit disorganized. I never used to let it get like that, but it’s a reflection of how I feel and have felt for the past few years. I’m a mess.

Have you ever thought about being a pirate? No.

If you text, who were the last three people you texted? My dad, mom, and brother.

Does today’s date mean anything to you? Nope.

How are you currently feeling? Tired and kinda cold.

Last male you talked to in person? My brother.

Have you ever had a sunburn? Yeah, many times. I got them a lot as a kid cause I actually used to play outside and spent a lot of time out there. Shocking, I know. I get them when I go to the beach as well. I’ve had some really painful ones. However, they always end up turning into a tan so that’s nice.

Do you use Firefox or Internet Explorer? Neither, I use Chrome.

Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No.

Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? I’m not a fan of lemonade.

Chocolate or strawberry milk? Strawberry.

Does it annoy you when people answer surveys with “idk”? I know I say “I don’t know” a lot. I try to answer the questions and in more detail, but sometimes I really just don’t know.

What is the current time? 5:08AM.

Should you be doing something other than this? Probably try to go to sleep, but that just wouldn’t be me now would it.

When is the last time you did laundry? My laundry just got gone last night.

What volume is the ringer on your phone? It’s all the way up.

Have you ever won a contest on the radio? No.

What shirt did you wear to bed last night? It was my Mario Bros shirt.

Where did you get that shirt? I got it from Hot Topic a couple years ago.

Do you hear any music right now? No, but I hear the ASMR video I’m watching.

Are you a fan of the band Gym Class Heroes? I like some of their songs.

Overall, how was your day today? Like I said, it’s only 5 in the morning so it’s too soon to say.

Silver or gold jewelry? I like both.

In one word, how would you describe your best friend? Fabulous.

Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There’s many.

Do you have an alarm clock? Yeah, on my phone.

What was the weather like today? It’s supposed to rain today. We haven’t had much rain this winter, in fact it’s been awhile, so I hope it does. Do you often write on yourself? I don’t do that anymore, but I did when I was younger. For some reason that was like a thing a lot of people did to themselves in middle and high school. *shrug*

Is there writing on the shirt you are currently wearing? Yes. It’s a shirt from a place I vacationed at.

Would you rather be cold or hot? Cold, most definitely. I love wrapping up in a blanket, wearing a sweatshirt or hoodie, drinking hot coffee, or sitting by the fireplace. I love the coziness. Being hot is just absolutely miserable, there’s nothing I enjoy about that.

Frosted flakes or frosted mini wheats? I like both.

Do mushrooms really add flavor to food? I don’t eat mushrooms.

What about onions? Yeah. I don’t mind if there’s some chopped up pieces in some foods and I like onion rings, but I don’t like onions on my burgers or in my burritos or anything like that.

Are you a fan of Thai food? I’ve never had it.

How about Indian food? I had chicken curry once, which I did like. I couldn’t have it now though cause I can’t eat spicy food anymore. :/

Have you ever tried sushi? Yes, and it was absolutely disgusting. I feel like everyone loves sushi but me.

What is the weirdest food you have eaten? I’m super picky, so I don’t think I’ve had anything all that weird. I’m so particular about my food.

Do you know who LL Cool J is? Yes.

You have a pocket full of change - what do you do with it? Put it in my bag.

Guitarists or lead singers? Lead singers.

What does your mom say about the pictures on your Facebook? She’ll like them and leave a nice comment.

Where are you? In my room on my chair.

do you know your mother’s birthday? Of course.

do you like texting? Over talking on the phone, yeah. I don’t do much texting, though.

would you run down the street naked if it meant earning $15,000? Could it be pitch black and not a single soul in sight??

how do you feel about the person who texted you last? I love him, he’s my dad.

do you own a pair of skinny jeans? All my jeans are skinny jeans.

what do the majority of people in your life call you? Steph or Sis.

will your next kiss be a mistake? I hope not? Who knows when my next kiss will even be or who it will be with.

has a book ever made you cry? Yes.

do you like to cuddle? Sure. I don’t have much cuddling experience, though.

do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? I check the time on it.

are your parents still together? Yes.

Are you missing anyone? I’ll always miss my loved ones who have passed away.

What do you currently hear? An ASMR video.

Plans for tomorrow? No. I’m so sick of this question, it’s like in every survey and my answer is always the same. My life is very routine. I spend all my time at home doing the same things, especially since the pandemic. My plans now just consist of my once a month doctor appointment that I have to go to in order to get my prescription refills.

What did you eat for lunch today? Like I mentioned a couple times now it’s only 5 in the morning.

Sex ruins relationships, right? No? It can, but that’s not a general statement.

Where do you want to live when you’re older? My dream would be to live near the beach.

Is your life falling apart or coming together? It’s been falling apart for the past few years.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? No, I didn’t even go to bed until like 6ish.

What color is your hair? It’s dark brown naturally, but I dye it red. Currently, it is a lot of my natural hair cause my roots are quite overgrown as it’s been almost a year since I last got it done. Sigh.

Are you spending the weekend with the last person you texted? Yeah, we live together.

Do you trip a lot? No.

If someone paid you $100 would you dance in the middle of times square? No.

Do you have anyone you fully trust? Yes.

What kind of pants did you wear today? I live in leggings, that’s all I wear.

How old is your television? About two years old.

Do you have a laptop or desktop? I have a laptop.

When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago.

Are you currently sleepy? Yes.

Have you ever deleted Facebook friends for a significant other? No. I’ve never even been in the situation where a significant other asked or wanted me to do that.

Have you ever had bad trust issues with someone? Yes.

What accent do you think is the most attractive? British and southern accents.

Are you hot or cold natured? Hot, unfortunately.

Do you own any television series box sets? I have I Love Lucy and The Dick Van Dyke Show boxsets.

Have you ever been in a fight with your best friend? Yes.

When did you last receive a hug and who was it from? A couple days ago from my mom.

Do you take any advanced classes? I’m done with school.

What is your lucky number? I don’t believe in luck, but my favorite number is 8.

Do you own a book bag? If so, what color is it? No.

Was the last movie you watched a horror film? Nope.

Do you own a lot of tee shirts? Yes. My wardrobe consists of a shit ton of graphic tees.

Do you plan your outfits ahead of time? No.

Have you ever spent the night in jail? No.

Are you a colorful person or quite bland? Bland. Well, except for my hair that I dye like a cherry red.

List one word to describe your significant other? Nonexistent.

Have you ever been so nervous you threw up? No, but definitely felt nauseous and sick and like I could throw up.

Do you remember the first survey you took? Uh, definitely not. I’ve been taking surveys since like 2004/2005.

How many friends do you have on Facebook? 100 and something. *shrug*

Have you ever watched fight videos for amusement? No. I don’t find stuff like that amusing or entertaining at all.

In high school, were you in trouble a lot? I was never in trouble in school.

Do you enjoy your hairstyle? No. I don’t have the energy or motivation to do anything with it besides throw it up in a messy bun all the time.

Do you have long hair or short hair? My hair is long, it goes past my butt. Such a waste that I do nothing with it.

How much make up do you wear on a daily basis? None anymore. I haven’t worn makeup in almost 4 years.

What is your favorite television show? I have many.

Do you have a leather jacket? *Pleather, but yes.

Do you think anyone dislikes you for no reason? They probably have reason.

Do you have any children? Nooo.

Have you ever been interviewed on television before? No.

Do you have weak upper body strength? I used to have really great upper body strength as a paraplegic who only had upper body mobility and uses a manual wheelchair. When I was in school and had a social life, I was active. I didn’t spend all day, everyday in bed or at home all day doing nothing. I had toned arms before. I lost my muscle mass and now I’m weak cause I’m not active at all anymore.

What is the worst insult someone can call you? I don’t know. I say mean, hurtful things to myself all the damn time. My brain plays ‘em on a loop.

Are you good at sketching? No. I don’t have any artistic abilities, sadly.

Do you think hugs are awkward? Yeah, they can be.

Do you think facial hair is gross? No. I’m not a big fan of a lot of facial hair, though.

Would you ever dye your hair an unnatural color? I dye it red?

What color was the last cup you drank from? It’s a clear glass.

Ever play Angry Birds? Nah, I never got into that.

Did you think it was annoying, like I did? It just didn’t look like my kind of game.

Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah, many times.

What instruments do you know how to play? None anymore, but I used to play some piano back in the day. I wish I took it more seriously back then. I wish I had practiced more and kept up with it because I did enjoy it.

How late did you stay up last night? I went to bed around 6ish. And that’s AM if you’re new here.

How late do you plan on staying up tonight? Well, it’s 5:46AM now...

Whose wall did you post on last? I share stuff to my mom’s wall sometimes.

Have you ever done hard drugs before? No. All I’ve done is weed.

Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No.

Do you own a Snuggie? I do.

What is your favorite band of all time? Linkin Park will always be one of them.

Would you consider getting a tattoo any time soon? Nah.

Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It’s not something I’ve actively thought or worried about.

Are there any paintings on your wall? Yeah, a few giraffe ones and a couple beach ones.

Speaking of which, what color are your walls painted? White.

Do you have any talents that come naturally? No. :( I’m lame.

Do you have any piercings? Just my earlobes.

What is your favorite piece of jewelry? The ones I have with my birthstone on it.

Is there a place you'd rather live right now? Somewhere with colder weather.

Do you change your bed sheets often? Usually just like twice a month.

Do you go out often? lol.

Have you ever had plastic surgery before? No.

Are you afraid of airplane rides? I get super anxious beforehand, but once up in the air I start to relax a bit and I’m okay. Well, unless there’s a lot of turbulence.

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? At least once a day.

Do you consider yourself a sensitive person? Very.

What's the best Valentine's Day gift you've gotten? My mom is so sweet and has always gotten me something like candy and a stuffed animal or something, but I’ve never received anything from a guy.

If you're reading a book, what page are you currently on? I don’t feel like checking.

Do you think people are intimidated by you? Uh, no. I can’t imagine anyone being intimidated by me.

Do you have a job you like? I don’t have a job.

Do you know how to do your own laundry? I have to have help with that.

Have you ever lived with a roommate before? No.

Do you like candles? There’s a lot of nice smelling ones, but I’m just not a candle person. Give me a room spray instead.

Would you prefer internet or television? Internet.

What is something you lose often? Patience.

Do you have any classes with friends? I’m done with school.

Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? No. I haven’t entered any kind of contest in a really long time.

What is your favorite possession in your room? I couldn’t possibly choose one thing. I love all my stuff. What will you be doing in the next ten minutes? Finishing this survey, maybe start another, and listen to ASMR.

How old is your oldest sibling? 37.

Do you consider yourself physically active? Not at all. I explained all that in another question.

How many scarves do you own, if any at all? Zero.

Do you have any cuts or scratches as of now? Not that I know of.

Where did you last sleep? My bed, like I always do.

Do you have Netflix? Yep.

Are you colorblind? No.

Do you know anyone personally who is colorblind? Yeah, my high school chem teacher.

Favorite salad dressing? Ranch. Unless I’m eating a Caesar salad, of course. A vinaigrette is good, too.

Do you enjoy dancing? I don’t do much dancing.

Have you ever considered writing a novel? I actually have thought about it before.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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fleurie3am15inspo · 4 years

Text

Everyday Hero: Dad-Aizawa Fic

Hey there @the-lupine-sojourner !!! It’s me, Fleurie 😁 I bet you’re wondering, “huh, I wonder why she’s tagging me in this fic?” Well, I got news for you, buddy! I was your Secret Santa for this @dailybnha BNHA Secret Santa event! 😄 Surprise! What are the odds, ey? 😂 I hope I didn’t give it away in my anon asks cuz with me sounding all nervous all the time :p try as I might, I cannot shake it, lol. Well, anyway, this is all still a little new to me, writing bnha centered fics and whatnot. And as I mentioned before, it came out a little more on the slice of life side than fluff. Sorry, but I hope you like it anyway! Enjoy some Dadzawa and I hope you have a Merry Christmas!

The baby in his arms reached her tiny hands up, grasping at a few strands of his hair. It was different than before. No more did he feel that irk of annoyance when she did that. Instead, it felt warm. Innocent. And filled with love. Eraserhead blinked in surprise and tugged his head back. The movement caused him to wince and the child to laugh a colorful, sweet, twinkling laugh. Despite himself, Eraserhead felt a smile broaden over his own face and a soft laugh break through.

“Fukukado,” he warned, still laughing, “Turn it off.”

She quirked a brow, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not me, Eraser.”

“Don’t lie to me,” His hair rises (save for the strand in the infant’s hand) and his eyes glow red as he attempts to erase a quirk that was never even activated.

What? Curiously, he sneaks a glance at Yoshiko. Nothing.

“It’s not her either,” Emi says chuckling, “It’s you. It’s all you.”

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

“NO.”

“Oh come on, Shota! You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“I don’t need to. The fact that you’re asking me is enough.”

“Since when is me asking for a favor a bad thing?”

“Since you haven’t visited for years and only show up whenever you need something.”

“Okay, I know I haven’t had the chance to visit lately, but I know for a fact you haven’t made the effort either. The way I see it, it’s the classic kettle calling the pot.”

“I have a responsibility to my agency.”

“As do I to my city,” Sigh, “Look, it’s just for a few days. I need to attend the conference per company regulation. It’s just a series of meetings and trainings, but I can’t bring Yoshiko with me. I need someone to look after her while I’m gone.”

“Why don’t you get a babysitter for her?”

“I’m not trusting my baby to a stranger! Especially not now where there’s been undocumented kidnappings in the area. I don’t have time to do background checks on everyone. I know you. And I trust you. Please, you’re the only one I trust to look after my daughter.”

“...How long?”

“Just the weekend. The second the conference is over, I’ll be on the next flight home. I promise.”

“Alright. Bring her by the house later when you’ve got all her things. Stay safe up there.”

“I will. Oh, thank you Shota! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Don’t mention it. Though, in exchange, you need to stop with these out of nowhere favors. Come by and visit sometime.”

“Of course! Yoshiko needs to get to know her godfather, afterall.”

“Her what?”

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

It’s been four years.... I miss you, Aneko.

Indeed, four years have passed since the disappearance of his cousin. What had only meant to be a three day weekend of watching his newfound goddaughter had taken a somber turn when news spread of a massive villain attack in the city where his cousin’s agency was undergoing their annual battle training. Normally, such an outright attack on a congregation of heroes would be wildly unsuccessful, if not laughable. But this instance was far from normal. In broad daylight, the entire building just vanished. Along with everyone inside it.

Investigations were still underway to locate the missing heroes. But in the four years of the aftermath, too little leads yielded little hope. Many families were grieving and others were moving on, adjusting to their new lives; Shota included. Suddenly, he found himself to be the only family baby Yoshiko had left. Her mother was missing and as far as he knew, Aneko had been on her own.

Once he came to terms with the fact that he was now her legal guardian, he had pulled out all the stops. Parenting books, crib shopping, taking a leave of absence from his agency, and enlisting the help of a few friends like Ms. Joke and Present Mic. Despite not having any children herself, Fukukado was great with children. She always seemed to know what to do to get a laugh out of the child without the use of her quirk. Mic knew some good lullabies to lull her to sleep.

Even with all the help he had been receiving from those around him, he still found himself questioning his abilities. How was he supposed to raise a child? Aizawa never had any siblings growing up and was raised to be independent from the get go. Aizawa knew he couldn’t rely on their help forever, so he spent countless hours practicing on his own. In no time at all, he learned to change diapers, properly prepare bottles, braid hair, put outfits together, etc. and as Yoshiko got older, he was constantly finding himself picking toys off of the ground, trying to get her to eat her vegetables, preparing special meals for her, struggling to get her to sit still in the morning long enough to brush her hair. It was hard work. And he loved every minute of it.

Finally, in the blink of an eye, Yoshiko was old enough to start school. It should have been a relief to have her start school. It would mean that she was being kept under close supervision at all times for the better part of the day so that he could focus a little more on his work. As it was, being a single, working father was hard enough. Having somewhere she could be safe while he worked gave him a little bit of breathing room, but lately, he had been reminded that villains didn’t seem to care for heroes’ personal lives and would make their little heists at ungodly hours of the day. Or just any time he could have spent with his daughter.

With a sigh, the erasure hero pulled his goggles over his eyes and refocused on his current mission at hand. His agency had gotten word of suspicious activity on one end of town and had sent him to investigate. Silently, he crept towards the edge of the building overlooking an alleyway. It looked to be some sort of contraband deal. There were six figures in total; nothing too serious. Working quickly, he made sure to apprehend them and made short work of them in no time. The only injury he sustained was a cut along his upper arm from one of the thugs’ talons when he let him get too close. All things considered, that injury was the least of his problems.

“Shoot!” The injury could wait. He was nearly two hours late picking up Yoshiko from pre-school. Working quickly, he made sure to bind the thugs together away from the contraband and contacted the authorities. It took forever for them to arrive, it seemed. By the time the first cop car arrived, Eraserhead was already wrapping his scarf onto the building ledge.

“Wait!” The cop called, “Eraserhead, we need a statement!”

“That’ll have to wait,” He responded curtly, “I’m already late picking up my daughter.”

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

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a little girl with violet hair and yellow floral overalls is sitting in the doorway of a classroom, drawing in the dirt with her finger. Her backpack is lain against the wall. Two of her teachers are watching from inside the classroom and exchange worried glances. The younger of the two, Akiyama, approaches her and kneels down next to her.

"How are you doing, sweetie? Your dad still isn't here yet?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to come inside? It’s going to be dark soon.”

“No, thank you.” she replied, not looking up from her drawings, “Daddy will come.”

“I know sweetie, but we need to get you inside. We’ll call your dad again in a few minutes.” She holds out a hand towards Yoshiko. “Come on. You can have a snack if you want, too.”

Yoshiko finally looks up at her and stares at her hand blankly. She hums in hesitation before glancing out one more time at the empty parking lot. “I don’t…”

A loud screeching of tires sounds through the air and a taxi is seen skidding past the pickup area, grinding to a halt a few feet away from where the classroom door is. The poor teacher’s aide next to Yoshiko screams and falls back, but the little girl smiles with glee. Aizawa jumps out the driver’s side and a very frightened taxi driver scrambles out of the passenger side.

The driver clutches his stomach and raises a shaking finger at Aizawa, “Y-you! What are you crazy?! You could have killed us!”

The other teacher rushes out of the classroom and kneels down at the side of the petrified aide. She shoots Aizawa a very angry look. “Sir!” she screamed, “This is a school, for Heaven’s sake!”

He pays no attention to them, instead, focusing on the one shout that mattered.

“Daddy!”

He rushed around the car to the little Yoshiko who is bouncing up and down excitedly. She’s raising her arms and he scoops her up into a hug with an apologetic look on his face.

“Hey, hey…” he murmured, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect work to keep me out so late. I’ll be on time tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“It’s okay Daddy,” she said snuggling her face into his shirt, “I knew you’re coming!”

The older teacher, Hayashi, is helping up Akiyama while holding a steady glare at the “Sir,” she reprimanded, “This cannot continue. We have told you countless times that we are not a daycare center. When 3 o’clock rolls around, you are expected to be here, on TIME, to pick up your child. I understand you’re a busy man, but given that you are already aware of these instances, I implore you to make arrangements at an actual after school child care facility-”

“I am not trusting my baby to a stranger,” Aizawa interrupted, holding Yoshiko tighter, “The background check process took long enough with this school, I don’t have the time to interview other daycares.”

“Well, I’m sorry, sir, but something has to be done. Take it up with your employer; we can’t keep doing this.”

The tension hung in the air for a brief moment before Aizawa finally relented with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Hayashi crossed her arms and said, “See to it that you do.” before leading Akiyama back to the classroom by the elbow.

“Looks like I have work to do,” Aizawa humphed. He pulled Yoshiko away from him and placed her on his shoulders. “You want to take the scenic route home?”

“Yes!” she cried, clapping her hands happily. Aizawa wrapped one end of his scarf around her like a makeshift seatbelt and readied the other in his free hand. Before taking off, he dug around in his pocket for a few bills. He promptly handed them to the taxi driver who, though no longer shaking, still remained a little green from the incident.

“Sorry about that. We’ll take the high road home from here. Let’s go!”

Yoshiko waved bye-bye to the taxi driver one last time. And with that, he swung off high above the building tops.

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

“Alright, Yoshiko,” he said putting her down once they got home, “go put your backpack away. I’ll clean up a little and get dinner started.”

“Okay!”

While she bounded off to her room, Aizawa made his way to his own room to grab a fresh set of clothes and get changed. He winced a little at a small pain in his upper arm and remembered his wound. The cut wasn’t deep. Nothing a bandage shouldn’t be able to take care of. After wrapping it quickly, he headed back to the kitchen and set some noodles to boil on the stovetop. While that was cooking, he found Yoshiko sitting at the table with crayons and pages scattered all around her. Most were adorned with colorful doodles of cats and flowers. She had her head bent low over her current project and was scribbling feverently. Aizawa took a spot next to her, leaning over curiously.

“What are you drawing there?”

Donning a wide grin, she proudly holds up her drawing, “It’s you!”

Indeed it was. As close to resembling Aizawa as a four year-old’s crayon drawing could be, anyway. Yoshiko had drawn a tall box looking man with wild black sticks for hair and giant pink swirls for his eyes. Beside the figure was a smaller box girl with violet sticks of hair pointing downward that seemed to be both holding hands with the Aizawa figure and holding this giant pudgy looking cat in her other arm. (Said cat was now rubbing himself along the feet of her chair, meowing for attention.) And on the top of the page was scrawled the words “ME AN DADE” Warmth blossomed in his chest as he took it all in. Yoshiko leaned over with big gleaming eyes. “Do you like it, daddy? Did I do good?”

Aizawa chuckled and pulled her over, giving her a kiss on the forehead, “I do. It’s beautiful, thank you. And you know what? I know the perfect place for this.”

She jumped off of her chair and followed him back to the kitchen where she watched him proudly stick a magnet on the corner and stuck it to the fridge. “How does that look?” He asked her. Instantly, she squealed and bounced around in joy. “It looks perfect!!”

He picked her up and planted another kiss on her head before setting her back down again. “I’m going to finish up here. Go draw me another one, okay?”

“I’m gonna make a big one!” she cried, running back to her crayons and starting on a clean page with a renewed vigor.

As he stirred the soba, Aizawa got to thinking. How did he end up with such a beautiful little girl? A small pang hit his heart as he recalled the specific details as to how he came to be her guardian, but it was replaced with determination to raise his goddaughter as if she were his own. So far, it looked like he was succeeding. She was growing up so fast, and so patient for her age. She had to come first, always. It wasn’t fair that what happened today was commonplace for her. At this rate, it could spiral out of control and he could be missing out on larger parts of her life.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Working at the agency and trying to be there for Yoshiko was becoming too much of a losing battle. He would just have to take a break from hero work for a while. Try something else, teaching maybe. A lightbulb went off in his head and he grabbed his cell, dialing a certain blonde pro-hero.

“Hizashi? Could you come over and watch over Yoshiko for a little while? There’s something I need to do.”

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

“Principal Nedzu, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice”

“Not at all!” The small rodent hoisted himself up on a chair and settled down happily with his cup of tea. “I have often told you in the past that if you ever needed anything, all you had to do was ask. Surprisingly, not too many folks are too keen on the idea of coming to me when they need assistance. I ask for nothing in return; I’m so glad you are finally coming forward to speak with me. Just tell me what you need and we can work something out. Are you having issues in your current place of employment? Perhaps if we discussed it at great length-?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aizawa interrupted hastily, “I am experiencing some difficulty with time management in my current agency. I called hoping to meet with you to discuss an employment opportunity you had offered to me in the summer.”

“Ah, yes!” Nedzu exclaimed, “I do recall contacting you. We are in need of a new homeroom teacher for the hero course. Have you reconsidered my offer? The position is still available if you are interested.”

Aizawa set his own cup down and leaned forward in his chair. “As a matter of fact, I have. I will be leaving my current agency soon in favor of a job with more manageable hours. Financially speaking, we are well off. But practically, I cannot raise my daughter if I am never home. And now that she has started school, I am having a difficult time finding a middle ground”

Nedzu nodded understandably, “Yes, I see. It is no easy task raising a child alone. But rest assured, here at U.A. we take care of our faculty members. Believe it or not, you are not the only teacher who has had difficulty with after school childcare. We have a daycare center in our main building. You are more than welcome to make use of it for your daughter. We can send someone over to retrieve her every day precisely at three o’clock and have her wait here until the school day has finished.”

Aizawa stiffens a little at the mention of someone else picking up Yoshiko from school. Nedzu catches the hesitation, “I see you are a little uneasy still? Not to worry, Eraserhead, we are all trained professionals here. Your daughter will be in safe hands. You have my word”

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

Later that night, Aizawa took special care in brushing and braiding Yoshiko’s hair. He sat with her on the bed while she busied herself with annoying the old black and white kitty by hugging him relentlessly. While he brushed, he pondered how to ask his next question.

“Yoshiko? I want you to tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“How does it make you feel when I am late picking you up from school? Or have to leave early sometimes and you have to stay with aunt Fukukado or uncle Hizashi until I get back?”

The question makes her pause and think. The cat uses this opportunity to flee but she makes no effort to grab him again. “Well...sometimes when you’re late, I feel sad. I have to wait longer to see you. And when you’re really late...I get scared…”

A surprised look comes across Shota’s face, “Scared?”

She nods in affirmation, “Uh-huh. I get scared...cuz what if you don’t come for me? I don’t want you to forget about me…then I would be alone...”

At that, he pulls her in for a hug, “No, no. I could never forget about you. I’m sorry that I’ve scared you so much that you even had to think that. Look at me,” He lifted her face to look her in the eye, “I promise-”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, holding up her little finger.

“Pinky promise,” he confirmed, hooking their pinkies together, “that no matter how long it takes me to get to you, or how far I go, that I will never, ever forget about you. It’s impossible. You’re my little girl. I’ll always make my way back to you, even if I have to fight a million monsters to get to you. I’ll fight a million and one, just to keep you safe.” He kissed her forehead and scootches her over to the pillow end of the bed, tucking her into her covers. “Now you rest easy tonight, okay? Daddy got a new job, so I’ll be there right on time waiting for you after school. How does that sound?”

Yoshiko smiled and yawned, turning into her covers, “Every day?”

“Almost every day. If I can’t, I’ll have your uncle come get you. You won’t be alone again. I’ll be here. I promise.”

The smile on her face grew wider and more content as she begins drifting off into sleep.

“Thank you.”

He ruffles her hair in response, “You’re welcome.” He picks up her teddy bear from the floor and places it next to her as he gets up to leave. He stood at the doorway, flicking off the light when she spoke in a soft whisper.

“Daddy?”

He turned his head back to his little girl, already cuddling with her bear and falling half-asleep, “Yes?”

“You’re a hero.”

Aizawa snorted a little chuckle, “I know. That’s my job.”

“No,” she opened her eyes a little, “You’re my hero.”

A sudden burst of warmth exploded in his chest. To hold that mantle in your daughter’s heart...it almost made him want to cry. Almost. One thing he knew for sure: he would never let anyone hurt his child. He would protect her with his final breath, fight off any monster she feared, and make sure that she would be loved and safe for the rest of her life.

Sometimes he would think back to his life without her and think of how it was so different since she came along. His life was a better place. And it was all thanks to her.

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

FIN

#bnha #fanfic #secret santa #dailybnha #Christmas #present #I hope you have a great Christmas!#I'll talk to you later friend #:)

16 notes · View notes

melonkooky · 5 years

Text

the art of love [kim taehyung]

not requested

word count: 3576

genre: art school/college!au, taehyung x female reader (mainly 3rd person), fluff

warnings: no warnings 😊😊

author’s note: decided to enter into @btsboulangerie‘s september prompt contest. i’ve been working on this the past few weeks since september started. i know it’s early and there’s still a few weeks before the deadline but i just thought i’d put it out there (mainly because i might forget to post it). also, i’m apologizing in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes that i didn’t catch!!

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

taehyung raised a soft, half-asleep hand up to his face in order to rub the sleep from his eyes. he yawned in the process, soft sigh falling past his pink lips. he was exhausted to say the least, but that was because he had stayed up majority of his night finishing his most recent project.

it was a painting. he was attempting to mimic vincent van gogh’s style of art and integrating it with his own style. it was a simple painting of some buildings that he took a picture of while he was vacationing with his family a year ago in the united kingdom.

the painting was being held in his other hand as it was due today. taehyung walked onto the school campus, not expecting a lot to happen. but he noticed a small crowd of his fellow art students. it was hard to see as they were forming an uneven semi-circle directly in front of a brick wall. it was near the entrance.

quite intrigued by the matter, the tired look in his eyes vanished and his curiosity was peaked. being extra cautious of his painting, taehyung maneuvered through the crowd of students, mumbling tiny “excuse me”s every so often. finally, he reached the front and got a good view of what every was gawking at.

taehyung had to crane his neck back in order to get the full picture of what he was looking at, literally. he was close to the wall. at first, he noticed the shade of purple that was used. obviously it was graffiti, judging by the unique style of letters. it was a statement, a quote, that had been spray painted onto the brick wall. it read: “be the change you want to see in the world.” taehyung shyly smiled. he believed strongly in that quote.

after admiring the artwork on the wall, one that he knew would for sure anger the professors, he was about to turn around when his ears caught wind of some conversations.

“i wonder who did this…”

“it’s so pretty.”

“imagine mr. khan’s face when he sees this.”

taehyung also wondered who had done this. he was intrigued, drawn to the unique style of art, and the choice of canvas. still, he had to get to class.

taehyung forced himself through the crowd once more, checking to make sure that his piece of art hadn’t been ruined or contaminated in any way. once he was sure that it was fine, he hurried into the building, excited to get to class. taehyung had always admired art, it was a passion of his. for as long as he could remember, he would use whatever writing utensil he could find and draw on whatever was in front of him. his mom would always get mad at him when it happened to be a black pen and a placemat at the dining table. sometimes it would even be crayon on the walls. but with all the practice, taehyung’s art majorly improved. he loved how beautiful art was, and he always admired the deep, hidden meaning that some of the pieces had.

taehyung walked into the classroom, the life-changing quote still in his mind. that’s how to start a good day, he thought.

upon walking to his seat, he noticed that the classroom was completely empty. he was a bit early, he noticed when he pulled out his phone to look at the time. but, as he glanced around the vacant classroom, he noticed that there was a girl over in the corner. a section of her hair fell onto the side of her face while she used a pencil to seemingly shade something in. her eyes were trained onto the paper, not even leaving her sketchbook as her free hand came up to brush the section of hair behind her ear. she looked beautiful.

suddenly, she glanced upward, nearly giving taehyung a heart attack. he gasped. strange noises left his mouth as his cheeks changed from their typical sunkissed, golden color to a deep, cherry red. the girl remained staring at him, looking at innocent as ever. “h-hey.” taehyung finally managed to say, hesitantly moving around a few tables to get closer to her table.

“hi.” she replied, eyebrows raised slightly.

taehyung’s hand moved to the back of his neck. “sorry for staring.”

she blushed, a shy smile coming to her face. “it’s okay. you probably were just surprised to find someone else in here.”

or because you were absolutely beautiful…

taehyung cleared his throat. “yeah.”

suddenly, she glanced downward. “is that your project?”

taehyung’s eyes widened, cheeks red once more. he smiled proudly and help up his painting to her. “yeah. my reference was a picture i took when i was in england.”

her eyes were wide with amazement. taehyung noticed a particular sparkle in her eye, and he couldn’t help but feel even prouder. she seemed genuinely amazed at his piece of artwork. “wow!” she said quietly while running the tips of her fingers along each stroke. “it’s beautiful. so unique.”

taehyung grinned. “thank you!” then he glanced around. “do you have your final project?”

she looked down at her sketchbook before gasping suddenly. before taehyung could even blink, she was flipping her sketchbook over, causing her pencil to fling off of the table and onto the floor. when taehyung looked at the pencil, then her sketchbook, and then back at her face, she was bright red in color. taehyung’s eyes widened. “are you okay?”

“uh… yeah.”

she flashed taehyung an unconvincing smile, but taehyung didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. then, he bent down, picking up the stray pencil, and then handed it back to her, a smile on his face as he did so. “well, then.” he laughed shyly. “i’ll see you around i guess.”

she was still blushing, and seemed extremely flustered, but she still managed to say, “see ya.”

----

you sighed in relief as you watched his back while he walked away from you. your heart was still pounding against your ribcage, and your face still felt hot. once he was sitting down in his seat and became distracted by his phone, you flipped over sketchbook and found that you had accidentally creased a corner of the paper. it wasn’t too bad, but it still made your pout slightly. after one glance at your fellow art student, you picked up your pencil and continued sketching.

----

taehyung was proud that the teacher liked his painting. every time he looked at it, he remembered the countless amount of minutes he had spent on it, how he painstakingly painted each stroke. careful not to make any mistakes. his hard work paid off, he got a 100%.

after class, taehyung was ready to go back to his dorm. he planned on calling his parents and asking them if he could visit on the weekend and give them his painting.

while standing up from his seat, just after the bell rang, taehyung glanced behind his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the girl he had met earlier. for a split second, he wondered why he had never seen her before. but his question was quickly answered. she sat in the very back corner of the classroom, an entire desk - that could fit four people total - all to herself. she was also extremely quiet and mainly kept to herself.

taehyung felt like he was very similar to her. he did have friends that attended this college, but they had completely different majors, therefore, he didn’t have any friends in his art class.

the young art student glanced back over in her direction, only he caught her looking at him. surprised by that, taehyung looked away, feeling all of his blood rush to his cheeks. his hands froze, being in the middle of packing his sketchbook into his backpack. he wanted to look at her again, to see if she was still looking. so he did, only she wasn’t there anymore. she disappeared, as if nobody was there to begin with.

his shoulders relaxed, but his heart sunk. a strange feeling.

----

the next day, taehyung showed up at the same time. he wondered if she would be there already, just like yesterday. he was actually really looking forward to seeing her again, and he was wondering if he should try talking to her again. as he walked towards the building, he noticed that a few janitors of the school were working on cleaning the purple graffitied wall, although they had hardly made any progress. he felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards as he walked by, just as he slipped into the building.

the door to the art classroom soon came into view. as he approached the entry to the classroom, taehyung grew nervous. there was nothing stopping him, he had no reason to turn away and come back later. and yet, here was was actually considering it. why was he so nervous? he loved meeting new people, he loved making friends. taehyung found it easy and enjoyable.

taehyung shook his head, as if to shake away all his anxiety. with a deep, calming inhale, he grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. he looked around, finding the classroom empty once again, with the exception of the quiet, artistic girl sitting in the corner.

taehyung stopped, time seemingly to follow his en suite. the morning sun coming in through the tall windows was enough light for the classroom, and while it enveloped everything in a golden ray of light, taehyung easily took in the scene of her in front of him. how the sun gave her skin a mesmerizing golden hue, how he allowed him to see all of her. taehyung was falling in love.

the girl looked up, her beautiful eyes meeting his own. when she recognized who it was, she quickly turned a page in her sketchbook, attempting to hide her sketch. taehyung didn’t necessarily notice, his mind was far too occupied to think.

taehyung came out of his trance, his cheeks burning. he swallowed hard. “h-hi.” he spoke nervously.

the girl blushed as well, although it was hardly noticeable underneath the sun’s glow. “h-hey.” she replied.

taehyung walked closer to her desk. he kept his gaze away from her eyes, her face. he was too worried about how he had basically stared at her for a solid minute. “i noticed that you sit here by yourself.”

she nodded, a shy smile on her face. “yeah. i don’t have any friends in this class.”

taehyung felt himself smile. “yeah, me too.”

a silence fell between them, and it pained taehyung. what else should he say?

“um, do you mind if i sit with you? that way you won’t be alone.”

her eyes widened, her blush coming back. “yeah, yeah, go ahead.” she gestured to the seat across from her.

taehyung felt his heart skip a beat. she was so nice, and kind. it was hurting taehyung. he smiled as he pulled out the seat across from her, placing his backpack in the empty chair next to him. “so,” he said, pulling his sketchbook out of his backpack. “did you see the graffiti outside, by the entrance?”

she looked up, having started to doodle variations of flowers on the corner of the blank piece of paper. “o-oh, that. yeah, i did.”

“i wonder who did it.” he paused. “i liked the message, a lot actually. it’s always been my favorite quote.”

she smiled, “me too.”

“do you have an idea of who did it?”

the girl seemed to avoid his gaze. her eyes were trained on something outside the window now. taehyung stared at her, waiting patiently for an answer. she cleared her throat, “about that… that graffiti was actually me.”

taehyung’s eyes widened. “wait, that was you?”

she nodded.

a wide grin showed on taehyung’s face. “wow! you’re just good at all forms of art, aren’t you? graffiti, painting, sketching-”

she blushed as taehyung complimented her. “although, i wouldn’t say i can watercolor.”

taehyung laughed. “yeah, i have problems with watercolors too. it’s either too dry or too watery and then i can’t really blend or overlap or get the right color, so in the end, it’s just a mess.”

“exactly!” she agreed loudly.

“you know,” taehyung began, still laughing slightly, “i don’t know your name.”

“it’s y/n.”

taehyung smiled and reached his hand out. she gently took it, another blush coming to her cheeks. “taehyung.”

until the art professor arrived, taehyung and y/n talked about many other things, finding that they had a lot of things in common. and on the things that they didn’t agree with, they would playfully argue, and it only brought them closer together.

after class, before y/n could leave, taehyung called out to her. he quickly swung his around, reaching for her arm in order to stop her from walking away any further. she gasped in surprise, cheeks turning a bright red. taehyung himself was surprised. his cheeks gradually began to match hers. he coughed into his fist, releasing her arm. “sorry, i just had a question.”

she smiled at him. “yeah?”

“do you want to get lunch right now?”

she grinned widely. “that sounds nice. where do you want to go?”

“that’s a good question.” he replied, a shy laugh following after.

“how about…”

taehyung watched as her gaze moved around the room. she was thinking, trying to think of a place to eat at. the aspiring artist seemed to space out as he studied her, wondering how she managed to look so cute, because suddenly, she was waving her hand in front of his face. “taehyung?” the way she said his name caused his heart to skip a beat.

“sorry.”

“i said what about [restaurant name]?”

“yeah, that sounds wonderful.”

----

“i have another question.” taehyung spoke, swallowing his bite of noodles.

y/n looked up at him, attempting to slurp her noodles faster so that she could give him her full attention. “hm?” she managed to say.

“why did you flip your sketchbook over so fast? you were so flustered by it.”

y/n almost choked on her noodles. she hurriedly swallowed her bite, sitting up straighter. she prayed silently that her cheeks weren’t as red as the booth they were currently sitting in. “why do you ask?”

taehyung shrugged. “i don’t mean to pry. i’m just curious.”

“are you sure you want to know?” she asked him.

a weird, fuzzy anticipating feeling erupted in taehyung’s stomach. “yeah.”

she seemed hesitant, and taehyung wondered if he was making her feel uncomfortable. he surely didn’t want that.

y/n reached next to her and opened her backpack. she pulled out the sketchbook that taehyung was talking about. after she pushed aside her half-empty bull of ramen and made room to set down her sketchbook, she looked at taehyung. “please don’t feel weirded out by my drawings.”

taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed. he started to picture what he was going to see, both appropriate and inappropriate. he felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of inappropriate sketches.

slowly, she turned over the cover, allowing taehyung to see the first page. the first page was not what he was imagining. instead of nude drawings, there were sketches of birds, ones that he’s seen many times on campus. “wow.” he whispered, a smile on his face.

she continued. the next page was of a few realistic faces, some of the students he��s also seen in classes and on campus. a few pages later, he saw the rough draft of the graffiti on the wall. he spotted the written note in the top corner, reminding y/n to use the color purple.

“this is where it gets weird.” she warned.

taehyung didn’t understand. why was she being so shy? she drew amazing sketches and pictures, so realistic that it almost looked like they were just simply black and white photos.

y/n turned over the page, revealing a sketch that shocked taehyung. it was a picture of him, talking to one of his friends from another class. he was surprised how much detail she drew; the box-shaped smile, squinted eyes as he grinned, the shading on his face, everything about it wasn’t able to be described in words.

another page was turned and he recognized himself again, this time sitting in his chair in the classroom, drawing in his sketchbook. taehyung was in awe.

he glanced up at y/n, finding that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. her cheeks were still red, now matching the red used on the booths. taehyung’s jaw was hanging open and his eyes were wide. he definitely was in love.

seeing his reaction, y/n felt shy. she felt the need to slam her sketchbook closed and run out of the restaurant, away from taehyung. but she also felt a burst of confidence in her work. he didn’t seem disgusted or weirded out from her drawings of him. she often times felt like a stalker, convinced that he would never notice her.

but taehyung, he was in love. “wow, these are amazing.” he managed to say.

she smiled, “really?”

he nodded. “i could never match this skill.”

“you’re not, like, disgusted by me watching you and drawing you in my sketchbook?”

taehyung blushed. “not at all. i’m just surprised, and amazed.”

“taehyung,” she spoke quietly, “i don’t know when it began, perhaps it started on the first day of school when you first walked into the classroom, but, i like you. a lot.”

taehyung’s jaw dropped again. his cheeks were bright red, looking like someone has attached two giant apples to his face.

she giggled in response, afterwards biting her lower lip.

“i must be dreaming.” taehyung whispered. “i like you too.”

y/n smiled happily. “that’s a relief.”

“can i have your number?” taehyung asked shyly.

y/n nodded. she grabbed her phone from her backpack and handed it to taehyung, who put his own number into his phone. “you should probably text me, so that i know it’s you.”

taehyung grabbed his phone, just as the screen lit up. it was a message from an unknown number, but he easily recognized who it was from. it was obvious given the moment. it was a simple heart emoji, and taehyung swore he stopped breathing when he looked at her again.

----

months later

y/n cursed to herself as she glared at the painting in front of her. she had managed to mix the wrong color and in return, it ruined part of her painting. she needed to fix it. the only issue was, she had mixed that color in the first place because the white acrylic paint bottle had gone missing. she thought that she wouldn’t need it, but boy did she thought wrong.

with a sigh, y/n stood up from her stool. taehyung glanced over from y/n’s bed, attention pulled away from his phone. he had a small, mischievous grin on his face. y/n hadn’t noticed.

“what’s wrong, babe?”

y/n glanced at her boyfriend. she gestured vaguely to her painting as she walked over to the shelf across the room where all her art supplies were located at. she wondered if she had left the white paint bottle there by accident. “i messed up.”

taehyung watched eagerly. you wandered over to your art shelf and began moving things around, taking a random box off the shelf, searching through it, and then putting it back with a huff. you would check the same spots again and again, until your gaze gradually traveled up the rather tall shelf. and there, as the only item on that shelf because you couldn’t reach it, was the white acrylic paint bottle.

you heard a stifled laugh from the opposite corner of the room. you didn’t even need that sound to tell you who had done this. you turned around, an angry glare on your face. “kim taehyung.”

he finally released his cackle. he definitely was not holding back, and he was clearly enjoying this. “what’s wrong?” he asked while feigning innocence.

“you know what’s wrong.”

taehyung hopped off the bed, doing a slight skip afterwards, and then walked over to your side. he glanced up, a grin still seen on his face. “did i do that?”

you rolled your eyes. you shifted all of your weight on one leg before crossing both of your arms over your chest. “can you please get that down?”

taehyung reached up, easily grabbing the bottle, only he didn’t give it to you. instead, he opted to hold it up on the air. you groaned, “taehyung!”

“i need a reward.” he suggested.

you blushed slightly. “for grabbing the bottle that you put up there…”

taehyung wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his side. his lips were puckered out, and you were feeling yourself slipping. why did he have to be so damn cute?

finally, you pressed your lips to his. immediately taehyung deepened the kiss, clearly wanting more. you obliged, only while he was distracted, his arm came down. in the blink of an eye, you grabbed the bottle and pulled away from taehyung, a loud smack resonating after the two pairs of lips parted. taehyung stood there, surprised, as he watched you skip towards your canvas, pretending as if nothing had happened.

he sighed in defeat, shoulders evidently relaxing. “gotta love her.”

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