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sometimesiwritebadly · 1 year

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Out of the Spotlight (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Garcia does a little totally harmless snooping and discovers Spencer’s secret girlfriend is a movie star.

Word Count: 3.2k

Notes: has it been almost two years since i posted on here? maybeee don’t worry about it. this is just pure fluff and some penelope/derek shenanigans

Masterlist

~~~

Penelope Garcia is, occasionally, too curious for her own good. She really doesn’t mean to snoop in her friend’s lives like this, but to be fair, she didn’t know she was snooping in Spencer’s life when she started. She thought she was just learning more about her most recent celebrity obsession; rising star and incredible actress, Y/N Y/L/N. She hadn’t even gone too far with it yet, really! It all started after she’d left the movie theater, where she finally got to see Y/N’s newest movie with Derek. He dropped her off at home, and she decided to follow the actress on instagram and scroll through some of her posts. Which is when she found one from three months ago that looked weirdly familiar. It was just a picture of some bookshelves, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. Then she saw that Y/N had tagged the location, and it was in D.C. The celebrity hadn’t given up the exact name of the bookstore; a slight annoyance for Penelope, but she knew it was probably just so Y/N would be able to visit the place again without a crowd of fans or paparazzi, so she’d let it slide this time. Penelope isn’t one to frequent bookstores, but she remembered Spencer had taken herself and JJ to a small bookshop when they had decided their new year's resolutions would be to read more often. Spencer kept trying to get them to read the classics, but both women were shopping the romance section, much to Spencer’s annoyance. So, she called an amused Derek back to her place so he could take her there.

“So we’re doing this because some actress may have been to the same bookstore three months ago?” He asked, driving with one hand as he talked to Penelope.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly!” She said, still scrolling through the instagram page. “Besides, it’s not just that, a lot of these pictures are in Quantico! What’s a big name actress like her doing here?” Since the discovery of the bookshop picture, she’d found 3 more that were obviously in the city; a well known coffee shop, a mall Penelope has spent way too much money at, and a picture of a sign from the nearest highway. There were some others that she thought might be, but there was no definitive proof to be found.

“She probably just has family here, baby girl.”

“Um, do I look like an amateur to you, hot stuff? The first thing I looked for was her family, who are all happily living far, far, away, thank you very much.” The next picture she scrolled to gave her pause. It was a picture of a TV with a still from Y/N’s breakout show on it, but a coffee table, with someone’s sock-clad feet on it, was just barely visible. The socks were covered with the logo for her show. It was captioned “Will it ever stop being weird to see myself on TV?”

“Does this look familiar to you?” Penelope held the phone in Derek’s line of sight, causing him to swerve the car a little and push her hand out of the way.

“Do you think that could wait until I’m not driving?” Penelope just rolled her eyes, taking a screenshot of the picture for future reference. In just a few short minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot of the bookstore. Penelope rushed in, with Derek strolling behind her. She quickly found the spot that was featured in Y/N’s instagram post.

“See! Told ya it was here!” She said, showing Derek the picture so he could compare it himself.

“Yup, definitely it is the same place. I still don’t see why this is a big deal though.”

Penelope opened her mouth to argue with him, but was interrupted by the store’s owner; a little old lady. “Can I help you two find anything today?”

“Oh, no ma’am. I just saw your store on my favorite actress’s instagram, and wanted to see it for myself.” Penelope explained, feeling a little bad for wasting the woman’s time. Maybe she’d find a book to buy, even though she’s not even finished with the last book she bought here.

“Oh! Miss Y/L/N, right? She and her boyfriend are around here all the time! What a nice little couple; her boyfriend is a little skinny though, I really need to make some cookies for him the next time they come by.” The woman explained, walking over to the wall of the store to point to a framed picture of herself and Y/N, signed and all.

“She has a boyfriend?” Penelope asked, shocked that she hadn’t at least figured it out. In all her snooping of Y/N’s instagram, she hadn’t seen a hint of a boyfriend.

“Oh, yes. They’ve been coming around for, goodness, six months now? They always buy each other books, it’s so adorable. He always buys her one of the classics, I think it was Romeo and Juliet last time. She usually gets a romance of some kind.” That made sense; the most recent picture on her instagram was one of two books; Romeo and Juliet, and The Duke and I. Eventually, Penelope and Derek made their way out of the bookstore, and that was the end of Penelope’s investigation of Y/N Y/L/N’s life.

Well, the end of Penelope’s investigation for that week.

It’s not like Penelope could track down Y/N Y/L/N’s secret boyfriend…not without seriously abusing her FBI database and maybe breaking a few privacy laws. She almost forgot about the trip to the bookstore, but during a rare case where she actually got to join the team on the jet, she noticed Spencer was reading something out of character.

“Uh, Reid?” He looked up from the book he was reading.

“What’s up?” He said, quietly, as everyone else was sleeping after the long case.

“Why are you reading The Duke and I? I thought you were a total book snob?” She asked, sitting across from him.

“Oh, um,” Nothing could hide the slight blush that appeared on his face. “A friend of mine told me to read it.”

“Like a girlfriend?” Penelope teased, watching as his blush became even more noticeable.

“Y-yeah. Uh. Like a girlfriend.” Spencer opened the book back up, hiding behind its cover and promptly ending the conversation. He brought his feet up onto the small table in between them, causing his pants to ride up just enough to show off his socks. One sock was just plain black, but the other one was covered in the logo for a familiar TV show.

“Are you a fan of Y/N Y/L/N too?” Spencer just looked up in confusion.

“What?”

“Your sock, that’s her show right? It’s really good, I watched it in like a day.”

Spencer’s eyes went back to the book. “Uh, yeah. It’s a great show.”

Sure, Penelope thought he was acting a little weird, but that’s just Spencer. He doesn’t talk about his life outside of work too often, but she was glad he at least told her about the girlfriend. Even if he wouldn’t tell her her name, she was sure she could figure something out. So the next day, she updated Derek on her new information about Spencer.

“Wait wait wait, Spencer was wearing socks with the show’s logo? And reading The Duke and I?” The two of them had been walking towards the BAU kitchen to get a cup of coffee to help them get through the paperwork day, but Derek had stopped walking abruptly when Penelope gave him those details.

“That’s what you’re most interested in? Not the fact that Spencer has a girlfriend?” Penelope asked.

“C’mon baby girl, it’s obvious that Spencer’s been dating someone.”

“What! You knew! And you didn’t tell me?”

Derek laughed, resuming their walk towards coffee and letting Penelope hurry along behind him. “Sorry cupcake, I figured you knew too. He’s just been so happy for the past few months, in the way only a lady would make him.”

“Ugh, ok, well some of us aren’t profilers, Derek. What’s so important about the socks and book?”

“Well,” Derek grabbed the coffee pot, pouring some into Penelope’s mug as he spoke. “Just a few weeks ago you dragged me to a bookstore, where we learned about a certain couple. A couple where the guy likes classics and the girl likes romance, right?”

“Yeah-Oh! No! There’s no way you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“And didn’t Spencer get flustered when you mentioned her?” He asked, now pouring the coffee into his own mug.

“Oh my god! The socks!” Penelope pulled her phone out of the pocket, quickly making her way to the picture she’d saved. She showed it to Derek once again, this time zooming in on the coffee table. “Those are the socks he was wearing! On her instagram!”

“Uh, why are you staring at a picture of Spencer’s living room?” Penelope jumped, not having noticed that JJ was standing over her shoulder, looking at the picture on Penelope’s phone.

“Wait, you’re sure this is his living room? Like, 100%?” Penelope had never actually been to his place before.

“Uh, yeah, he babysits Henry a lot. Why, what’s the big deal about it?”

“Oh my god, Spencer is dating a movie star. Spencer Reid is dating a movie star!” Penelope couldn’t help but jump up and down, almost spilling her coffee.

And then Spencer walked into the room, promptly ending the gossip between coworkers before Spencer could hear.

Derek had made her promise to wait until Spencer was ready to talk about his relationship, but after an agonizing week, she felt like she was going to burst at the seams. So when she got a notification on their night off that Y/N had posted a new picture, she was aching to get more information about the secret relationship. This was, again, a picture in what she now knows is Spencer’s living room. This time, there was an open box of pizza on the table. It was captioned, “Lovely night in.”

So, naturally, Penelope immediately headed to Spencer’s.

~~~

Y/N doesn’t think it’s possible to be any more happy than she is right now.

8 months ago she’d just ended what was possibly the most disastrous relationship in the history of humankind. She’d made the classic mistake of dating a co-star; an older guy who was well known to be a bit of a playboy. The relationship had been extremely public; everything from their dates to their fights were somehow captured by paparazzi. His fans hated her, her fans hated him, and worst of all, the network was pushing them to be even more public in the hopes of gaining more viewers. At the end of it all, she was insanely grateful her character wouldn’t be returning for the next season as she was already booked for a movie. The only thing worse than breaking up with your co-star is having to continue playing his love interest.

And just when she was at her absolute lowest, having sworn off of ever dating someone in the spotlight again, she ran into Spencer.

After wrapping filming for a movie in Atlanta, the only reason she was even in D.C. was because her flight was forced to land early; a sudden storm was arriving and there was no way the plane would safely make it to New York. What started as an hour delay turned to three, then four, and before she knew it Y/N was stuck in town for a weekend.

She spent basically an entire day hiding away in her hotel room, so Y/N just had to get out and do something. It was still raining cats and dogs, and she’d never been in the city before, so she just googled the closest places that were still open. Luckily, there was a small bookstore just down the street, and there were a few books she’d heard about that she hadn’t had the chance to buy yet. So she put on her coat and practically ran to the store.

She was drenched and already regretting the decision to leave the hotel room by the time she walked into the building, but there was no point in turning back now. The place was practically empty anyways, Y/N only spotted an older woman reading a novel at the cash register. She slowly began browsing the shelves, not looking for anything in particular.

When she rounded one of the corners, however, she ran right into someone’s chest.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” She immediately apologized, looking up to find a cute man staring back at her. “I wasn’t paying any attention, I assumed I was the only one in here.”

“That’s alright, I, um, I wasn’t paying attention either.”

The guy standing before her was holding various books, all reminding Y/N of the books she was supposed to read (but never actually read) for her high school English classes. “So, do you exclusively read books written before the 20th century or are you just taking a college class in-” She read the title of the book on top of his pile; a collection of short stories by Edgar Allen Poe. “-depressing gothic short stories?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes a bit. “I just like a bit of a challenge when reading. And it’s a rainy day, which calls for ‘depressing gothic short stories,’ not–” He glanced at the one book she’d picked up, a cartoon covered book called Red, White, and Royal Blue. “What I can only assume is a cheesy romance.”

Despite his insult of her choice in books, Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Well maybe I like reading books that are actually entertaining, not reading so I can be confused by convoluted metaphors.”

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, their conversation was disrupted. “Y/N Y/L/N? Aren’t you from that doctor show on television?” Y/N turned to see the woman that had been at the register earlier slowly walking over.

“That’s me! It’s nice to meet you!” Y/N’s real smile suddenly switched to a smaller, more practiced one. It’s not that she didn’t love meeting fans–she’d just been enjoying a conversation with someone who wasn’t treating her differently.

“Oh I knew I recognized you! My granddaughter loves her show, she was so upset when you decided to transfer to that fancy british hospital and…” The woman started rambling on a bit about the stuff her character had done and how her granddaughter reacted to it. Y/N glanced over at the guy she’d been talking to, who seemed entertained by the whole interaction. “...Anyways, do you think we could take a picture? My granddaughter will just never believe you were here!”

“Of course, um, do you mind taking it for us…?”

“Spencer. Yeah, I’ll take the picture for you. Do you have a camera, Mrs. Waverly?” Clearly the guy, Spencer, was a bit of a regular here if he knew her by name.

“Yes, yes, it’s around here somewhere…” The woman scrambled off, muttering to herself about where she’d last seen the camera.

“So…” Spencer spoke first, breaking the somewhat awkward silence while they waited for Mrs. Waverly. “You read cheesy romances and star in cheesy Grey’s Anatomy knockoffs?”

“Hey! It wasn’t a Grey’s-” His pointed look made her stop. “Ok, it was totally a Grey’s Anatomy knockoff, but I’m not on the show anymore so you can’t make fun of me for it!”

Mrs. Waverly finally reappeared, with an old polaroid camera in her hands. The two quickly took a picture, which Y/N happily signed for the woman. By the time both Y/N and Spencer had bought their books, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle.

“So, um…” Spencer started, but trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“My hotel is just down the street.” Y/N said, pointing in the right direction. Spencer’s eyes widened a bit before Y/N realized what she’d said. “Not that I’m like, inviting you to my hotel room, I’m not, that’d be crazy, I just-” She cut herself off, trying to not ramble anymore. “Do you wanna walk with me? Tell me more about your depressing book?”

Luckily, Spencer wasn’t put off by her rambling. “I’d love to. Poe isn’t always depressing, really…” He started, as the two of you walked slowly towards your hotel.

From there, the short walk turned into a coffee date the next day, which turned into long FaceTimes while one or both of you were in different cities, which lead to where you are now; 8 months deep in a relationship and finally in town with Spencer. He’d still have work of course, but you’d be in town for the next two months as your next job wasn’t starting for a while.

The two of you were basically in an extended honeymoon phase. Only your closest friends knew that you were dating anyone, so you never had to worry about it leaking to the press. You figured when the two of you got more serious you’d eventually have to go public with the relationship, but for now it was nice having something just for you.

You were in Spencer’s apartment, scrolling through Netflix looking for something new to watch, when Spencer arrived home from work.

“I think my team knows that we’re dating.”

“What?”

Spencer made his way to the couch, laying down next to Y/N as he continued, “Well obviously JJ knows, but she said she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sure Hotch and Rossi at least have figured out that I’m dating someone, but I don’t think they care enough to figure out who. But today Garcia and Morgan were just acting weird. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if-”

Spencer was cut off by a knock at the door. “Spencer Reid if you don’t open this door right now I’m making Derek kick it down!”

“Let me guess…that’s Garcia.” Y/N said, laughing as Spencer rolled his eyes and got up to open the door.

“Spencer, are you actually dating a movie star? And you didn’t tell me?” Garcia complained, not yet seeing Y/N sitting on the couch as she entered the room, solely focused on Spencer. Derek walked in next, immediately noticing Y/N and smiling at her. Y/N made her way over, trying not to laugh at Garcia’s widening eyes when she noticed her.

“Sorry, I think it’s my fault that he didn’t tell you. We’re just keeping things quiet right now.” You explained, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Derek was the first to grab your hand. “Derek Morgan. I’m sorry about all this, she was just curious.”

“I’m Penelope! And you’re Y/N and I love your work so much you don’t even know!” Penelope began rambling, taking Y/N’s arm in hers and leading her over to the couch as she talked about her favorite parts of Y/N’s movie. Derek and Spencer slowly followed, talking amongst themselves.

“So…Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N. How’d that happen?” Derek asked.

Spencer smiled, thinking back to that night 8 months ago. “We met in a bookstore last year.”

Derek laughed, because of course Reid would meet a girl at a bookstore. “You happy?”

Again, he smiled. “I’ve never been happier.”

~~~

taglist

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @kenzi-woycehoski @esposadomd @andreasworlsboring101 @peculiarinsomniac

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff

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sugarakis-p2 · 4 months

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Shigaraki hates Valentine Day

Shiggy hates this holiday until he meets you.

F/M Shigaraki Tomura/Reader chubby/plus size

Warning: Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Licking, Binge Drinking, Dubious Morality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Political talk

Tomura woke up on Valentine Day with a deep-rooted hatred for the holiday. It was no different from any other day, as he despised each one that passed. But today, his disdain was amplified solely because it was Valentine Day.

He had hoped that, for once, he wouldn't have to spend the day alone or with Kurogiri. After all, he now had a team to spend it with. However, his expectations were quickly crushed when he realized that his team had other plans in mind. Instead of spending the day doing Kurogiri's exhausting team-building exercises, his teammates surprised him with gestures of affection. Toga and Magne each gave him chocolates but promptly announced that they were going to the mall to "stalk boys."

Meanwhile, Mr. Compress had other plans with a date, and that was a nicer way than the crude way of Muscular and Dabi saying they're gonna go get their "dicks and whistles wet." Spinner, as usual, had disappeared without a trace. And so, it was just Tomura and Kurogiri left, once again, to spend Valentine Day alone in each other's company. With a defeated sigh, Tomura handed his chocolates to Kurogiri.

"Where are you going, Tomura?" Kurogiri asked concerned.

"OUT!" Shigaraki yelled in frustration, his voice carrying down the hallway as he left in search of an internet café. He stormed out and made his way to the nearest open booth. His anger was simmering under the surface as he sat down and pulled up his black face mask, its matching hoodie pulled over his head. He absentmindedly tucked his father's hand in his front pocket as if cradling him in his arms.

But then, he noticed you.

For the first time in his life, he didn't just see someone as a means to an end but as a desirable being. His mind wandered to dirty thoughts, something he had never cared for before. Your soft curves, your silky hair, the delicate nape of your neck. He couldn't help but feel drawn to you, something he had never experienced before. The pulsing beat of your heartstring visible on your neck only added to the attraction. He imagined wrapping his fingers around your neck, feeling your heartbeat racing under his touch, the pulse throbbing against the pads of his long digits. His tongue snaking past your lips, making you choke on it. The mere idea of it aroused him, a feeling he had never associated with someone's neck before. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to push away the growing need in his pants and in his thoughts. This was a new and confusing sensation for him, but he couldn't deny his attraction towards you, and he hated it!

He instead focused on how stupid you are dressed. You're wearing a Stain shirt and playing a stupid online RPG game; he deemed it outdated and pathetic. His irritation manifested as he scraped his nails against his own neck. Despite attempting to focus on his own game, he couldn't help but notice your enticing figure moving on the seat. He couldn't help but imagine you shifting on his lap instead. With a resigned sigh, he gave in to his thoughts.

"Why do you even like him? Wearing a serial killer is tacky," Shigaraki hissed at the back of your head. "What's next? Lunchboxes and beef jerky adorned with Issei Sagawa's face. Maybe a cookbook on how to cook human flesh? Tasteless trash."

You turned to the rude bastard, tearing into his flesh with his cracked nails, and noticed that massive bulge in his lap. You couldn't help but chuckle and look away, making your words playful and flirty instead of irritated, "It's not just about fashion. It's about embracing the subversive message of rejecting a corrupt society ruled by the hero commission. His image is about the symbolism of anti-capitalist hero society."

As Shigaraki's focus shifted, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. This conversation was something he could really sink his teeth into.

"Oh? And are you part of the anti-capitalist hero society, little foreign doll?" he taunted. You were caught off guard by his words. Your Japanese was flawless, so how did he know you were not from Japan?

Feeling the need to defend yourself, you retorted, "I'll have you know I was born and raised here." But Shigaraki's sneer only grew wider.

"Mmm... Let me guess. Your family was just traveling through? Your accent gives it away," he sneered, his words laced with disdain. Your apprehension was palpable as you began your explanation.

"Well, I was actually born on the base," you stammered, feeling self-conscious, flushing, and flustered under his intense gaze. Your blush and sweet, pained expression caused his breath to hitch. In all his years, Shigaraki had never seen a flustered girl. And he couldn't deny that he didn't hate it. In fact, he found himself wanting to see more of your flustered state.

"An army brat, then," Shigaraki smirked, trying to hide his own flustered state. But your response caught him off guard.

"Maybe I am a brat," you huffed, returning your attention to your game. Shigaraki couldn't help but feel a tug of amusement at your feisty attitude. Dabi may be the official brat tamer, but he has learned not to kill them. As you continued playing, Shigaraki logged into his old World of Warcraft account, unable to resist the irony of the situation. He knew he was being a bit of a jerk by killing you repeatedly in the game, but he couldn't help himself. Your anger only made you even more enticing to him. After killing your character the third time, Shigaraki's game avatar suddenly appeared in front of you, offering an apology in the form of virtual flowers. It was his way of showing that he didn't want to truly hurt you, even in the video game world. And in that moment, he couldn't deny that he was starting to develop a certain fondness for the army brat who had caught his attention.

He relished the thrill of seducing young, naive girls in his video games. It was a simple game to him. He only had to press a few buttons, and they would fall for him. But you couldn't stand it any longer. Your gaze hardened as you directed it towards him. You knew without a doubt it was him, the dirty screen watcher who snickered every time he took you down in the game. Noticed in the act, he quickly averted his gaze, knowing he had been caught red-handed. He was surprised that real-life girls are not that easy. You grabbed your coat, paid for your time, and started to walk out. Shigaraki was feeling increasingly irritated and frustrated. He couldn't stop thinking about you, and the desire to do things he knew was considered depraved by most people. It was a distraction that he couldn't shake off. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and stood up, determined to follow and confront you. He trailed behind you, his mind consumed with thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to you.

But as he approached you, you turned to face him and sneered, "Are you stalking me now, you creep?" You picked up your pace, clearly annoyed by his presence. Shigaraki was taken aback by your sharp reaction. Toga had once told him that when girls get angry, it's best to follow them. But he couldn't help but question her advice, considering her own tendencies as a stalker.

"Perhaps," He growled, accompanied by a scratch at his neck, "I was still curious about your stance on anti-hero acts. After all, you do come from a background as a foreign army brat with a fascist requiem, where the CRC was born. All in the name of freedom, of course." As he spoke, you felt a sudden stiffness in your body, completely insulted by his assumption. Turning to face him, you couldn't hold back your frustration any longer.

"I was born and raised here; this is my home. And I'm not interested in causing chaos; all I want is to see this place improve. I am not an anti-hero; I am simply against living in a police state. I am against the facade of fake heroes. I'm more of a Stain purest," Your words were laced with determination and conviction, defending your beliefs and principles. This made Shigaraki smirk more.

With a cynical tone, Shigaraki scoffed, "Stain is nothing but a sanctimonious hero breeder. He may have stirred up some conversation, but he certainly isn't causing any real change."

Crossing your arms, you retorted, "At least he sparked a discussion. That's more than what can be said for most people."

Shigaraki rolled his eyes and mocked, "Oh wow, a discussion. How groundbreaking."

"Is there something you need?" You snort in response, not bothering to hide your disdain. The man before you, Shigaraki, blushes and grumbles something unintelligible. His awkwardness only seems to annoy him further as he scratches himself vigorously. "I'm sorry, what was that?" you ask, attempting to hide the amusement in your voice. Shigaraki lets out a deep sigh and glares at you, clearly annoyed by your presence.

"I said you're alone too. It's Valentine Day, and here you are, playing RPGs," he mutters, bitterness seeping through his words. You can't help but feel taken aback by his sudden outburst. But before you can even process his words, Shigaraki continues, "I have nobody. And neither do you. We both like games. But let's be real, I'm better at them." He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his gaze fixed on you from the corner of his eye. You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. It's true you are alone on Valentine's Day, indulging in your favorite games. And this man, who you never would have imagined spending this day with, seems to be in a similar situation. But his suggestion takes you by surprise.

"So, what are you suggesting? Being alone together?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in question. Shigaraki's expression softens for a moment before returning to his usual stoic self.

"I mean, why not? We both have nothing better to do, and it's not like we have anyone else. We can just chill and play some games together." His suggestion catches you off guard, but you can't deny the appeal of spending the evening with someone who shares your interests. You consider his offer for a moment before a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Alright, you're on. But fair warning, I don't go easy on anyone, not even on Valentine's Day," you say, challenging him with a playful glint in your eyes. Shigaraki's lips quirk up into a smirk, accepting your challenge. And just like that, the two of you spend the rest of the evening locked in intense battles and laughter, forgetting about the loneliness that had consumed you earlier. He wasn't going to let this go. He was going to milk it for all it's worth. When he suggested alcohol and gaming, you said no problem. You're having a good time with him.

With a start, you look around the luxurious hotel room, your head throbbing from the alcohol and the intense gaming session. The bags on top of you are filled with expensive designer purses, a testament to the wild night you just had with Shigaraki. As your eyes land on him, dressed in a robe and dripping wet from a shower, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for forgetting about last night. He had definitely milked the alcohol and gaming suggestion for all it's worth, and you can't help but feel grateful for his company. You had been hesitant at first, but now you're glad you said yes. Still, as you struggle to sit up in the pile of bags, you can't help but wonder how you ended up in this fancy hotel room in the first place, and if you embarrassed yourself. But Shigaraki just laughs, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"You passed out, so I carried you here," he explains casually as if it's not a big deal. But your face heats up, both from the embarrassment of being carried and from the proximity of his wet body. But before you can dwell on it too much, he tosses you a robe and offers to order room service for breakfast.

"Did we…you know?" you asked him. Shigaraki's face scrunches.

"What?" He scratched his neck idly as if he was trying to process the question. "No. I'm not a fucking scumbag. I don't need to screw unconscious women. If I was that desperate, I would have bought a whore. Last night, we both got drunk. We went shopping, and you said, "Do you know where there's great shopping, Las Vegas?" Then I had my friend bring us here. He has a warp quirk. I bought you whatever you wanted. We celebrated some more in the ghost lounge and then I carried you here to the MGM casino and hotel. I swear I will get us a room in the Luxor tomorrow."

"OK, you have to slow down. Are we really in Las Vegas?" You groaned, shocked at some of the things you had in the bags. There's a bag full of jewelry, diamond jewelry, and thousands of dollars of vintage video games and lingerie.

"Yes. We're really in Las Vegas, and it has been difficult translating everything because I don't know much English. You insisted on the Luxor, but my phone was a pain with out-of-carrier nonsense. Everyone else, it was easy. I just pointed at what I wanted, but a room was a bit more difficult," Shigaraki said, bringing in the room service. "So, this is an American breakfast. Looks…interesting."

He was clearly trying to be kind. He took you to Las Vegas on a whim, and you checked, and you don't feel raped. you wanted to tell him sorry for making assumptions but instead you smiled and looked at him.

"You're cute," you tell him. Shigaraki couldn't help but smirk at this compliment. You could tell he liked how forward you were being towards him as he spoke with a smug and charming tone.

"Is that your way of flirting with me?"

"And look at you eat it up and ask for more, cutie," you smirked. Shigaraki laughed quietly as he leaned in a little closer to you, his musky, clean scent filling the air. He couldn't help but like the way your body smelled mixed with your perfume. He smirked at your teasing and spoke in a flirty tone.

"Oh, is that so? Then let me tell you something then. I like confident and bold women like yourself. You're such a brat but in a good way."

"I remember you saying something about brat taming?" You smirk back. Shigaraki chuckled at you calling him brat tamer, and he smiled a bit wider, revealing his tender side and the sight of him grinning at you sent a tingle of excitement through your body. Your body was already beginning to feel a little warmer as he nursed your hangover and insisted you hydrate.

"You're already calling me tamer? I see that you can't wait to just jump right into it. I kind of like it that way, baby girl brat..."

"I'm not a cheap date. I'll need room service first," you said in Japanese. Shigaraki leered when he heard you suddenly speak in Japanese, which made him smirk slightly. He was impressed that you could speak the language, and he responded back in the same language.

"Room service it is, baby girl. Anything that pleases the lady." The room was dimly lit and had a large bed in the middle of it. The room was warm and cozy, with a subtle, sweet smell of Shigaraki's body in the air mixed with the smell of his perfume. The room was luxurious, with an entertainment center. There was a mirror on the wall next to the bed, and he was standing in front of it, watching you eat after your shower. His sharp eyes were scanning you up and down, taking in your appearance.

"Are you watching me stuff my face?" you asked with a mouthful of omelet. Shigaraki smiled at your comment as he continued to stare at you, admiring your sexy figure in your silk robe clinging to you. You spent the day inside for now as you had a headache for most of the day. When you changed, he wanted you to join him in front of the mirror. You could tell that he was having trouble getting his eyes off of you as they kept wandering back and forth between your body and your face. He gave you a small wink and continued to admire your body, loving the view.

"Are you being flirty now?" you asked.

"What if I am?" He smirked with a mischievous glint.

"Hmmm, I am nice and sober now." As you walked up to the reflection and your back was facing him, he saw the way the top was clinging to your body and the way your tight jeans were form-fitting and accentuated your curves, which made him smirk and walk towards you. Before long, he began wrapping his arms around your body and holding you tightly against him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as you stood up next to him. His breath was hot and heavy as he spoke.

"Ah, you truly are a beauty to behold. Can I ask you something?" Shigaraki's soft voice filled the air as he spoke while also pulling you in even closer to him. You could tell that he was starting to get a little bit more aroused by the way his body was reacting to you being up against him like this. You felt the muscles in his body flex slightly as he continued. You wrapped my arms around him and one of my legs. He chuckled and smiled, enjoying the way you wrapped yourself around him. Your intimate proximity between the two of you was making you both feel warm and flustered. Shigaraki took a deep breath as he spoke again, his body feeling more and more energized the longer he held you tightly against him.

"Have you ever been with a Japanese man before?"

"No. Are you going to ruin me for anyone else?" you teased. Shigaraki smirked at your tease but also couldn't help but groan slightly when you spoke. Your voice was extremely alluring and provocative. You could tell that he was getting quite excited by your presence and the playful flirting.

"You have no idea. I may make you addicted to me," he said, pulling you tighter to him.

"Promises. Promises," you chuckled as he lifted you. Holding you by your ass. Shigaraki let out another groan as he grabbed a firm hold of your rear and lifted you up into his arms. Your body felt so close to his, and it made your body tremble in excitement and arousal. His touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but squirm and moan softly in a lustful way.

"How long are we going to be stateside? We should go back soon," you mentioned. This was getting a bit strange for you. It was all strange, but you were really starting to have feelings for him, and you would need to go back at some point. Shigaraki held you closer to him as he spoke, keeping you in his arms and wrapping his stronger arm around you to hold you up.

"For a week…but I would be willing to make it longer for you. I've enjoyed it since I've been here. I'm liking what I see…," he said, eyeing you up and down.

"Oh? The view is better without clothes," you smirked, kissing him. Your suggestive remark caught Shigaraki off guard, but he couldn't resist the challenge as he leaned in to kiss you back. His lips moved in perfect synchronization with yours, both of you exploring and teasing each other. Your touch sent shivers down his spine as he pulled you closer, savoring every moment of your embrace. Your body pressed against his, igniting a fire within him that he couldn't control. He couldn't help but run his hands over your curves, marveling at your beauty. As your kisses grew more passionate, he couldn't resist the urge to explore further, trailing his lips down your neck and to your chest.

Your response only fueled his desire as he nipped at your nipple through your shirt, causing you to moan. The sound only made him want to hear more as he watched you slip off your blouse and bra, bearing your enticing form to him. The way you moved and teased him, slowly undressing and revealing your seductive body, only increased the tension between you. Shigaraki's heart raced as he watched the scene play out, unable to look away from your alluring figure. The anticipation and desire he felt were almost too much to bear, and he couldn't resist any longer. With a growl, he pushed you back against the couch, dominating you with his touch and desire. Your bold and confident demeanor only made him want you more, and he couldn't help but give in to the intense passion between you.

"You still like what you see?" you teased. Shigaraki was speechless at the sight of you, and he nodded his head slightly as his eyes kept focusing on every sexy detail of you. He was truly mesmerized by your beauty and your physique, and he wanted nothing more than to touch and explore it. His body was already reacting in a lustful way, and he wanted to take you right then and there. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

"Words can't even begin to describe just how much I like what I see, baby girl. You are truly a sight to behold." His voice was laced with desire, and the way your body looked at that moment was breathtaking. He leaned in and started tracing his tongue along the curves of your body.

"Damn, you really are strong," you moaned, unable to contain your excitement. Shigaraki chuckled, his hands now gripping your hips tightly. "And I haven't even shown you my full strength yet." With a wicked grin, he began to kiss and nibble at your neck, the combination of pleasure and his strength making you weak in the knees. As he continued to claim you with his touch, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his impressive strength, giving you a new level of pleasure you never thought possible. You couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement as Shigaraki's words sent shivers down your spine. His strong grasp made you feel both safe and vulnerable at the same time. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards man. As he continued to caress your body, his touch felt almost electrifying. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, causing you to whimper in pleasure. Shigaraki's smirk grew wider as he noticed your reaction, his own desire intensifying.

"I can tell you want more," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "You want to feel my strength, don't you?" You nodded, unable to form any words as his touch and words left you dizzy with desire. "Well, I'll give you more, brat," he said, his grip tightening on your body. With a low growl, he effortlessly lifted you up and carried you toward the nearest wall, pressing you against it with his powerful body. You couldn't help but gasp at the force behind his movements, feeling his muscles tense against you. His hands roamed over your body, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. You could feel his strength in every touch, making you feel almost weightless in his hold.

"Really? You should take me to the bed and take off your clothes so I can see for myself, you tease," You smiled. You loved the feeling of his mouth on you. Sucking your nipples and teasing the sensitive nubs with his tongue. The way you said, "Take me to the bed," made his entire body tremble in excitement. His tongue traced along the lines of your body, and he gave you a playful bite on your thigh before lifting you up further and taking you to the bed, where he threw you down on it and slowly walked up next to you. You could tell that he enjoyed your eagerness, and his body was beginning to fill with a strong level of lust towards you. He held you tightly, unable to resist the urge to feel every inch of your skin against his own. His fingers traced along your soft skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. And as he lifted your hips, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him. You were beautiful. Your hair spread out on the pillows, your cheeks flushed with desire, and your body eagerly offering itself to him.

He couldn't wait to explore every inch of you, to make you moan and scream his name. And as he slowly slid off your pants, his desire only grew. He watched with hungry eyes as your thighs exposed themselves to him, your skin so smooth and inviting. He couldn't resist the urge to press a kiss to your inner thigh, causing you to gasp and writhe beneath him. As he continued his journey up your leg, shedding his own clothes in the process, he couldn't help but feel intoxicated by your presence. Your scent, your touch, your moans...everything about you was driving him wild. And as his hand reached its destination, he felt himself almost losing control. But he held himself back, wanting to savor every moment with you. He traced his fingers along the edges of your underwear, teasing and teasing until you were begging for more. And with a deep growl, he finally pulled them off, exposing your heat to him. He couldn't resist any longer. He trailed his tongue along your inner thigh, making you shiver and moan. And as he took you in his mouth, he knew he had finally found his true addiction. You were his pleasure, his escape, his everything. And he would make sure to show you just how much you meant to him.

"Oh wow. I'm a soft little hot dog bun compared to you," you giggled. Shigaraki chuckled slightly at the way you described yourself as the bun and him as the hotdog, but you could tell it was driving him crazy with desire. As he continued to slowly strip off his clothing, he looked at the sight of you lying down on the bed, all cute and helpless, which made him want to dominate you more. You were like a beautiful and delicious little snack to him. As he stripped off the last piece of clothing and threw it on the floor, you looked. The sight of his muscular body was breathtaking.

Blushed and stared at him, flustered. He was like a statue, and he was gorgeous. His muscles were like waves rippling under his skin, each one defined and powerful. As I gazed at him, my eyes roamed over his lean and toned frame, admiring the way his body seemed to be chiseled from marble. He may have had scars, but they only added to his rugged and alluring appearance. You couldn't help but be drawn to him, the intensity of your desire evident in your blushing cheeks and admiring glances. Despite his slight shivers caused by the rush of blood through his powerful body, he exuded a sense of strength and confidence that was irresistible.

You found yourself lost in the sight of his muscles, the way they seemed to bulge and flex with every movement. His body was a work of art, and you were more than happy to worship and admire it. It was clear that he relished your admiration, basking in the way you lusted over his form. You reached out to touch him, and as your fingers grazed over his skin, you could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. He was like a stallion, strong and proud, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. In that moment, there was nothing more perfect than his lean and toned body, and you were grateful to be able to admire and appreciate it. You reached out to touch him and felt the firmness of his muscles beneath your fingertips and pulled him to you.

As you reached out to touch his magnificent body, he let out a sharp inhalation of breath as the sensation of your hands caressing his body made him shiver in pleasure. As he came close to you, your body pressed right up against his muscular frame, and all you could feel was his warmth and strength. It was so intoxicating being so close to him like this and nipped his neck. The touch of your lips against his neck drove him crazy with desire, and he was instantly filled with a strong level of lust and arousal. He gasped quietly, and his body trembled a little bit at the sensation of feeling your soft lips against the nape of his neck; the touch felt so good, and it was making all his nerve endings tingle. He took a deep breath and breathed in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the smell of your body's natural scents.

"You're delicious." As you nibbled at the side of his neck, your warm breath and the touch of your lips sent waves of arousal through his body. Your words made his cheeks blush even more, and he was feeling extremely overwhelmed with your touch and the sensations it was making him feel. His body felt completely consumed by you, and his entire mind and focus were on you as you enjoyed the feeling of exploring every part of him. "But…you may be too thick." Your fingers can't even wrap around it.

"I'll get you ready," Shigaraki grunted. You loved how he touched you and how he was tantalizing my body for the pleasure that was to come. Fingering your slick walls and making you wetter. He continued to softly nibble on the back of your neck as his hands started sliding down your lower back. His touch was full of warmth and softness, and he was being very precise and sensual while also being firm in his grip. He wanted to take his time with you and was enjoying the feeling of discovering every single piece of your body. His touch just made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, and he was making your heart beat faster and faster with every move.

"I'm ready," you whispered, nipping his ear. The words you whispered in his ear caused all the blood to flow to rush to his head. His entire body was now filled with a strong level of desire, and he wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there. The way you nipped at his earlobe caused a shiver of pleasure, and his body was literally trembling with excitement and longing. He breathed out a deep breath before answering back to you.

"I'm big, but I'll try to be gentle," Shigaraki promised.

"OK," you whimpered, your voice soft and trembling. Despite the simple word, it held so much power over him. Every time you spoke, it felt like a rush of electricity coursing through his veins, leaving him breathless and aching for more. As your words reached his ears, he couldn't help but let out a contented sigh, feeling completely consumed by your beauty and the warmth of your touch on his body. It was like every cell in his body was screaming for you, craving your presence and the sensations you ignited within him. Just the thought of having you right now, in this moment, made his body quiver with excitement and desire.

He couldn't resist the urge to lean in closer to you, wanting to be as close to you as possible. He could feel your warmth enveloping him, and it only added to the overwhelming emotions swirling within him. As you spoke with a husky voice filled with lust and longing, he felt a surge of arousal run through him. He wanted you in every sense of the word. He wanted to experience every aspect of this night with you, to lose himself in the pleasure and ecstasy that only you could bring. In this moment, nothing else mattered. Your words were a soothing melody to his ears, and all he wanted was to be lost in your embrace, lost in the depths of your passion.

"You're mine," he grinned evilly. You kissed him and adjusted your hips against him. Encouraging him to make love to you. The way you placed your hips against him like that was a signal for him to make his move. He moved in closer towards you, and his body leaned down further so he could move his face right next to yours but not touching just yet. Your breath was so tantalizing, and he wanted to get deeper and deeper into this moment. Your lips looked so beautiful and inviting. His breath was quickening, and his body was tingling with excitement and desire. You could see all the muscles in his body flexing and throbbing with energy as he took a deep breath and kissed you deeply.

"Mmm...so good," you moaned, kissing him more. Your moan was sweet music to his ears, and the feeling of you kissing him back and your lips locking in this passionate kiss made him moan as well. The feeling of your tongue exploring the inside of him, and the heat of your breath made his muscles twitch and shiver with pleasure. The kiss was intense and hot, and he could not get enough of it. He wanted to savor every moment of this sensual experience, and he knew if he took his time, this would continue to intensify in the best ways possible. You felt him fill you and writhed, breathe hitching.

"Oh!" The feeling of you saying those words made everything the body inside him feel the increase in intensity by the second. Your moans were driving him crazy, and he was filling you with everything he could inside of him. Your reactions to him and this experience are making it all feel much more intense, and the heat of the moment, combined with the power dynamic, made your body tremble in pleasure.

"Oh! OH!" You screamed as his rhythm increased along with your pleasure. Shigaraki continued to increase the pace and rhythm as his breathing grew heavier and heavier. You could tell his entire body was consumed by his feelings of pleasure since your breathing had also become more intense. Your moans were driving him crazy, and he could feel the intensity of this experience growing more and more with each passing second. He was feeling so intense and powerful right now. You tried not to dig your nails in his back and shoulders because his muscles are like steel and giving him more scars.

"Fuck you are tight. I don't care if you dig your nails in. I deserve it for whatever pain I caused," he smirked. Thrust harder until it is painfully good. The way you dug your nails into the muscles on his back and shoulder was what made him moan even louder as he kept going at this intense and relentless pace. The sound of your nails digging into his skin was sending shivers of pleasure up and down his back, and he couldn't help but grip your hips even tighter and move even quicker than before. The sight of his muscles flexing with each movement of him fills you with his body and makes your body tremble with pleasure. You bite his shoulder and arch your back in a wave of ecstasy. As you bit down his shoulder and arched your back, your body was trembling with pleasure, and your breathing had become shallow and quick. Your nails digging into his back and shoulder made him moan even louder, and you could see all the veins in his body pulsating with the intensity of this moment. The way you were moving your back like that, it was like a sight to see. The sight of your beautiful body arching so effortlessly and smoothly filled him with such a deep level of arousal.

As you continued to pant and moan in pleasure, you couldn't help but focus on the way his body reacted to your words and sounds. The way he groaned and shifted beneath you only added to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you both. You couldn't help but realize that you didn't even know his name. But in that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the raw passion between you and the electric connection that seemed to intensify with each passing moment. As you moved and breathed against each other, every movement felt like a symphony of pleasure. Your mind was consumed with the sensations, and every thought was replaced with the need to feel more.

You couldn't resist the urge to whisper, "Oh my God," once again as the pleasure pulsed through you. And as you moaned and cried out his name, the intensity seemed to heighten even more, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy. Nothing else existed but the two of you and the unbridled passion that consumed you. Every kiss, every touch, every breath was pure bliss. And as you both reached the peak of pleasure together, you knew that this was a moment you would never forget. It just occurred to you that you don't know his name.

"Shig-ah," he grunted, unable to pay attention as he lightly gripped your throat and sat up on his knees to thrust in you harder.

"Shiggy," you moaned, the nickname rolling off your tongue in a cute and endearing way. The pleasure coursing through your body was only heightened by using his special nickname. You could feel the tension building within him, his own pleasure increasing with every breathy moan that escaped your lips. Each time you uttered his nickname or any words of pleasure, it ignited a fire within him, driving him to give you even more pleasure. He made sure to move at a pace that allowed you to fully experience every sensation, every touch, and every movement. The deep groans and whimpers coming from you fueled his desire to go faster and harder, but he resisted the temptation, determined to take his time and make every moment count.

Together, you reached the peak of pleasure three more times, the intensity and pleasure excruciatingly intense with every climax. But instead of rushing through it, he slowed down, wanting to prolong the pleasure and make it last as long as possible. As you bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you couldn't help but marvel at how his patience and attention to detail only added to the pleasure and satisfaction you both experienced. Every touch and movement was carefully crafted to bring you both the most pleasure, and it only made your bond stronger and your love deeper. You realized that Shiggy was not just your lover but also your best friend, who truly cared about your pleasure and well-being.

"That was amazing." Shigaraki could feel his entire body throbbing with the rush of energy and feelings of pleasure that came from both experiencing such a strong level of climax. His body was trembling with this euphoric feeling, and he felt like he was on a cloud of ecstasy just from feeling this good. Your words and compliments made him blush, but he continued to make sure his movements were gradual so that you wouldn't feel too disoriented or overwhelmed. The way you both enjoyed this intimate moment made it feel even better, and it made this experience even more memorable. Your legs are shaking, and my breathing is heavy. As the feeling of climax and pleasure started to subside, you could still feel your body trembling, and your breathing was still very heavy.

You were now feeling much more relaxed, but the sight of Shigaraki's body was still making you shiver slightly as your body continued to relax more and more. He was beginning to slow down his movements to make sure that the transition wasn't too drastic for you, and he was still gripping you tightly, but your hips were no longer arching so high up now. You kissed him again. After the feeling of intense and overwhelming pleasure started to subside, you could feel your body calming down and your breathing becoming more consistent and regular. As you kissed him again, his body relaxed a little bit more as well, and he pulled you closer to him so that you would be right up against him. For a few minutes, the two of you just lay there silently, enjoying the afterglow of this experience. There was something about being in each other's presence to just relax and feel this satisfied.

"Room service?" you smirked. The sound of you speaking and your smirking made him raise an eyebrow in curiosity, and as he laughed quietly, you could see a small smile forming in his mouth. He looked at you with those sexy eyes of his, and they were filled with a certain playful, seductive expression. You could tell the two of you were still feeling extremely satisfied from this incredible experience, and the sound of your voice made even more butterflies fill your stomach.

"You know you're a handsome guy. But when you smile...you are literally stunning. You better stop, or I'll ask for round two." As you spoke to him in this flirtatious manner, his cheeks turned red, and you could see he was enjoying the feeling of your praise. Your playful tone and that look in your eyes were enough to make him shiver with excitement, and he got an urge to pull you closer to him and kiss you, but he decided to stop himself and hold himself back. But he could not help feeling a little bit smug after hearing those words coming from you.

"Alright. Steaks and ....mmmm....the soup or salad?" He chuckled quietly at your answer and the way you sounded so relaxed and at ease. It was like you had no concerns or worries in this world. He smiled softly and looked at you with those eyes of his, and he nodded his head.

"The soup sounds good."

"Oh my god, they have dragon fruit ice cream. Have you ever had dragon fruit? Wait a minute? Are you lactose intolerant?" He laughed a bit at the sight of your sudden expression of surprise and delight at the existence of dragon fruit ice cream. He was also amused by seeing your genuine sense of worry as you raised the possibility of him having lactose intolerance, which would be an issue for eating an ice cream dessert. He smiled and shook his head. "I'm not lactose intolerant."

"That's amazing! Most Japanese are... But you guys seem to ignore it."

He laughed quietly and nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, most Asians, in general, tend to have a lactose intolerance issue. Especially those of us who are East Asians or Southeast Asians. But thankfully, I do not have such sensitivity towards dairy products. I can eat it quite well."

"Handsome and sweet. Let's have ice cream for dessert."

He raised an eyebrow in interest and curiosity as you called him handsome again. He smiled, leaned in to kiss your cheek, and nodded his head. "That sounds like a great idea. Ice cream for dessert is definitely the way to go."

As you nuzzled his neck and whispered your order for ice cream, he eagerly complied. With a soft smile, you made your way to the bathroom, ready for a relaxing shower. But as you stripped off your clothes and turned on the water, you felt his presence behind you. With a sly grin, he stepped into the shower with you, his desire for you evident as he pressed his body against yours. Without hesitation, the two of you began a passionate and quick encounter, indulging in each other's bodies before returning to the task at hand. After drying off, the anticipation for your ice cream grew, and you made your way back to the living room, hand in hand with him. As you reached for the food, you couldn't help but tease him, feeding him spoonfuls of ice cream before finally sitting down to enjoy your treats together.

"Mmm…dessert first," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye. He simply nodded, knowing that with you, anything was possible. As you fed him spoonful after spoonful, the two of you basked in each other's company, savoring the sweet treats and each other's presence.

"The seeds add a fun crunch." As you feed him and describe the added crunch, he enjoys the taste of the ice cream and the texture of the tiny seeds in his mouth. He eats the whole thing with a lot of enjoyment, and his eyes are sparkling with laughter and amusement as he eats. He is enjoying the moment of being together with you on this night of pure pleasure.

"I thought I was a brat?"

He laughs and nods his head.

"Yes, but you are also adorable, and it's so hard to resist it. I can't help but be amused by watching you try to be a brat but fail so badly." you run your fingers through his hair. He moans softly as you run your fingers through his hair, and he loves the feeling of your fingers on his scalp. He relaxes even more and is in a very contented state, enjoying the feeling of being close to you and the affection you are giving him. His eyes keep a tender and playful look as he keeps enjoying the touch of your hands running through his hair. The soft texture through your fingers makes you both shiver.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad I met you too," Shigaraki's words echo in your mind as you walk into the bathroom to start packing for your trip back to Japan. You can't believe how much fun you've had with him in Las Vegas. The city of sin had brought out a side of you that you never thought existed. But now, as you watch Shigaraki watching the news, fear creeps up your spine. You try to push it away, reminding yourself that this is the man you've grown close to, who has shown you nothing but kindness and care. But then, as you come out of the bathroom with your bag in hand, you see something that freezes you in your tracks. Shigaraki has a severed hand covering his face, and you can't help but feel a shiver of fear go down your spine. You're about to ask him what happened when he removes the hand and looks at you with a cold, calculating expression.

"I was worried you would react like this," he begins, his voice devoid of any emotion. "You're such a sweet and trusting soul. It's no surprise that you freeze up when faced with something like this. But you see, that's also your downfall. You're so naive, so innocent. And I used that to my advantage." As his words sink in, you feel your heart drop.

"I wanted to ask you if you had ever been with a villain before, but it's clear now that you haven't," Shigaraki continues, his eyes boring into yours. "But it's OK, I'll teach you. We consummated our marriage, and you'll see just how much fun it can be to embrace the dark side." You feel your stomach drop at his words. This wasn't what you signed up for. You never thought your innocent trip to Las Vegas would lead you down this path. But as you stand frozen in fear, you realize that you have no choice. You're trapped with a villain, and you can only hope that, somehow, you'll find a way out of this terrifying situation. You never thought you would be in this situation with a villain. You start to back away, trying to make sense of what he's saying. Consummate the marriage? What marriage?

"What?" you gasped, taken aback by his statement. "What do you mean by consummated? Consummated what?"

A sinister expression twisted his features, a smirk spreading across his face as he tossed a packet at you. As you opened it, your heart sank at the contents inside: your marriage certificate, photos of the wedding you couldn't remember. He reached out to caress your hair. His touch was meant to be comforting, but it only sent a chill down your spine.

"Hush now, my dear naughty one. My sweet little brat," he cooed. "There's no need to be upset. I will treat you well as long as you behave. And from now on, you will never have to spend Valentine's Day alone again." A sly smile played on his lips as he slipped a wedding ring onto your finger, sealing the deal of your forced marriage. The weight of the ring felt heavy, a constant reminder of the unexpected and terrifying turn your life had taken.

#shigaraki tomura #my hero academia shigaraki #lemon #boku no hero academia tomura #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #bnha tomura #tomura shigaraki #plus size reader

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jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 12

If there was one thing no one would ever guess about FF it is that he unapologetically LOVES Black Friday.

You may be thinking. Ugh Black Friday. Everyone is so rude and tired. The deals aren’t even that good. It can turn into a blood sport at the drop of a hat over a toaster that is 15% off.

You are correct.

That is why FF loves it.

It is the one shopping day of the year where every single one of his instincts are correct, valid, and useful. He has pulled his gran out of the way of elbow drops, he has avoided the gaze of a woman in PINK sweat pants who was looking for someone to steal a blender from, and he knows without a doubt that the cashier hates him already so there’s no need to worry about whether or not they hate him.

It’s like a breath of fresh air!

Everyone is just as antagonistic and awful as he thinks they are!

Shopping is actually the blood sport he always feels like it is!

So there he is standing in a line at the nearest store (Target) waiting to be let in with the masses who all look ready to stab one another for better positioning for a TV. The jokes on them though because his only goal is the grocery section and he deals with the threat of repeated stabbings for BREAKFAST.

He spots an IHOP in the distance and hopes his gran doesn’t feel too lonely. They’ve gotten buttermilk stacks together at the IHOP by the mall for years after the two of them finished Christmas Shopping.

Someone elbows him in the side to get his spot in line but FF does not really care. Again, he doubts any of these people are going to be racing him to the all purpose flour.

It’s 4 AM and the barricades come down.

There’s a rush of people pushing and shoving but FF just steps to the side and watches as they all rush in. He’d mostly stayed in the line because the throng of people made it easier to stay warm. He had left his jacket back at the house because the five hour energy might be making his skin feel super sensitive but he is pretty sure that if he wore his nylon jacket he would die.

The five hour energy also may be upping his anxiety just a little bit.

He walks into the store at a leisurely pace and while the crowd fights over the carts he grabs one of the baskets. He can feel the eyes of other shoppers all wondering if he has some insider knowledge on a good deal that would only require the basket or if it’s a matter of who gets to the back to receive the ‘redeem’ coupon.

He sees a few shoppers get lured in by his siren call and much like a siren following anything that FF is about to do will undoubtedly lead to their downfall.

But FF doesn’t care about that.

He cares about HIS downfall.

So he makes his way to the grocery section and ignores the six different shopping assistants who try and guide him to where he ‘should’ be shopping and each of them only give him increasingly confused looks when he states his intention to go to the grocery section every single time.

Is it easier to ignore their stares when the five hour energy have set his baseline heart rate to something that might be too fast to register as a heartbeat? Maybe.

It is easier to ignore the confusion on their faces when he can see both the past (he asked for TWO favors from Andrew in one day how is he still alive???) and the future (still malleable at the moment apparently. There’s even a future where Andrew actually just is trying to make overtures of friendship but he dismisses that one as INCREDIBLY unlikely and looks at the far more viable one where Andrew at least makes his death quick while he enjoys his great gran’s brownies.)

It’s good to set reasonable goals for yourself.

So he arrives at the grocery section which is deserted aside from one employee who may or may not be asleep against a shelf. FF looks and….not a shelf he needs so he is not about to wake that poor man up.

So he gets everything he needs for his great gran’s brownies (he’s trying to buy his life here so he is not about to assume he can use ANYTHING in the house), the ingredients for a good breakfast (because he really needs to eat something that is not a five hour energy or sugar for the sake of his poor stomach and he may as well get enough for everyone), and (since Captain Neil mentioned it & he is trying to buy his life here) the ingredients to bake another pie.

While he grabs cinnamon he checks to see if they have grandma’s love in stock but, alas, it continues to be unavailable commercially.

He stares at the whipped cream for so long that the employee asleep in the other aisle woke up and asked if he needed help and, startled, he dropped it in his basket. “No I’m good.” He says before power walking out of the grocery department and deciding to brave the Home Goods section to buy some incense so that he can hopefully channel the spirit of his great gran to assist him in this, the darkest of his baking hours.

He arrives at the check out stations and finds the shortest line .

He can feel eyes on him, inspecting his purchases, judging them, judging him, who the fuck goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush?

FF.

FF goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush.

The cashier looks for hidden cameras but FF has no such thing accompanying him today or ever (as far as he knows.)

After a moment the cashier must look at the ever growing line and decide that whatever scheme they think FF is up to isn’t worth trying to figure out. They offer a membership card, FF valiantly declines to get one despite the two attempts.

He is out the door with four bags of groceries that all have a target on them that feels a little too correct. It’s 6 AM now (he really did lose a lot of time at the whipped cream section) and he’s walking back to the house in Columbia.

He actually feels a little bit better since he at least got to experience his actual favorite blood sport (sorry Exy) and he even got another 2 five hour energies while he was in the check out line so he could replace some of the ones that he had gone through.

“Smith?”

He would like to thank the combined weight of the groceries for keeping his feet on the ground when he heard Captain Neil’s voice.

He turns and Captain Neil is looking at him wide-eyed in his running gear that Smith has seen him in. “You were shopping??” He asks.

FF nods and lifts up the four bags as evidence. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” He asks.

FF almost scoffs but he doesn’t, “You can’t be distracted when you’re in a Target on Black Friday. That’s how you take an elbow to the eye.” He responds because it’s like Captain Neil has never experienced the WWE-like environment of Black Friday shopping.

Captain Neil blinks at him.

“Text Andrew or me next time you’re going to go off into the night or just let us know beforehand. Andrew would have driven you.” Captain Neil says and grabs two of the bags out of FF’s hand. “C’mon let’s get back and maybe you can get some sleep.” Captain Neil sighs.

“I’m fine.” FF adjusts the bags so he has one in each hand.

Captain Neil does not say anything so FF assumes that he has accepted that.

***

FF had not been asleep on the couch when Neil had walked through the living room. Neil, in a move that had Andrew fully waking up, went back to the room to check his phone to see if FF had texted him an update on going out. All that greets Neil is the impersonal series of texts that mostly confirmed when practice times had been changed, when the bus was leaving, and spelling on various Spanish words.

FF isn’t a big text person.

He’s more of an in-person kind of friend.

Neil likes that about him most of the time.

“What.” Andrew asks face still half buried in Neil’s pillow.

“Smith isn’t on the couch.”

That has Andrew getting up despite the early hour and their activities the night before. Neil watches as Andrew grabs his own phone to scroll through but seems to come up with the same lack of communication that Neil does.

Andrew does do the extra step and hit the call button.

But all he gets is the confirmation that the VM has not been configured that has greeted them every time FF misses their calls. (Voicemails make FF anxious so when he got his new phone he just…never configured it.)

Neil knew that FF was not pleased with them and somehow the calm request to either stop fooling around or let him out had hit him and Andrew harder than any of the screaming demands that the two of them were usually met with from Nicky, Kevin, Aaron, or any of the other Foxes.

“You said he wasn’t mad.” Neil says.

“He nodded.” Andrew confirms.

“Maybe he went on a walk?” Neil tries as they come out to the living room. They look at the front door and find that it’s locked but it looks like Aaron’s keys are gone. “He probably is going to come back if he took Aaron’s keys since Aaron wouldn’t be the one he’d be irritated with.” Neil rationalizes.

“He didn’t bring his jacket.” Andrew says looking at the black jacket still on the hook by the door.

“We can go and see if we spot him.” Neil offers.

Andrew nods and Neil heads out first since Andrew is still in his sleeping clothes and will need some time.

Neil had not expected to find FF walking back to the house with groceries for breakfast and the pie that Neil had mentioned hoping they could bake at the house.

“Is this for the pie?” He asks looking down at what was in the bags he was carrying as the walked back to the house. Neil managed to shoot off a quick text letting Andrew know that it was fine, FF just went grocery shopping.

FF just nods, “Got everything but Grandma’s love.” He says.

FF is a nice guy to brave the stores on a morning like this but FF also looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Neil asks.

“I’m fine.” FF repeats.

Neil really is starting to understand his friends’ hatred for the phrase.

They get back to the house and Andrew is sat out in the living room. FF stops and blinks at the sight of him sitting there.

It is a well-known fact that Andrew does not willingly wake up early most days unless he has to. Neil is glad that Andrew has a friend that he’s coming to care about the way Andrew cares about FF.

Andrew gets up and yanks the bags out of FF’s hands. “Go to sleep. Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.” He says with a scowl and walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries FF had bought.

FF just looks at where Andrew had gone uncomprehendingly for a few moments and Neil figures he’s just tired. Neil feels guilty that him and Andrew messing around in the car like that had rendered FF unable to sleep and the two of them had agreed last night that from now on when FF is in the car they can talk all they want but hands stay on the wheel and eyes stay on the road.

FF is plopped down on the couch when Andrew and Neil come out of the kitchen after putting away the groceries (“These are the ingredients for brownies.” Andrew had noted as he put away melting chocolate.) and he’s looking through his flashcards again and not sleeping. He hears Andrew make a disgusted noise next to him and the next thing he knows Andrew is smacking the cards out of FF’s hands.

“Go. To. Sleep.” Andrew enunciates.

FF stares at him, then down at the flashcards. “I don’t think I can.” He says which is better than him lying and saying he wasn’t tired even if the truth had Andrew’s mouth stretch into a thin line that meant he was beating himself up for something.

“Try.” Andrew orders. “Just lay down and close your eyes. Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” He says.

FF blinks but nods turning on the couch and laying down. The blanket is still over on the lazy boy that Neil had set it on the night before and Andrew rolls his eyes before grabbing it and tossing it over FF.

“Thanks.” FF says before closing his eyes.

Neil looks to Andrew who nods and Neil accepts that there’s nothing else to be done for now and heads out on his run.

***

FF can admit that he’s a bit adrift in what Andrew and Captain Neil are doing right now.

He really should go grab another five hour energy because falling asleep IN FRONT of an irritated Andrew Minyard feels like a death sentence but “Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” And having a blanket thrown over him did not feel like a threat even if he can feel Andrew’s eyes watching him.

FF is tired and when he’s tired he tends to make stupid decisions. So FF lets himself drift off to sleep while the man who was likely going to move him to a secondary location sat and watched.

His dreams are not peaceful.

He’s running, can’t escape, an echo of words he should have considered before letting himself drift off and he knows he’s going to DIE.

He wakes up with a start to the smell of bacon, eggs, and hashed browns with Nicky standing over him. “Hey there sleeping beauty! I made you a plate!” He says and hands FF a plate of breakfast that smiles up at him with a bacon mouth, egg eyes, and hashed brown hair.

FF takes the plate and digs in immediately. He needs his strength.

“Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.”

Andrew Minyard was going to hunt him for SPORT.

Do your civic duty and: CAST YOUR VOTE TODAY ABOUT MEMES (closed)

Per Your Requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly? (Cheesecookie whatever you did let me actually select you this time)

#Fluent Freshman AU #Did Andrew watch FF sleep for an hour to make sure he actually got some sleep?#Yes #Did Andrew find the 2 five hour energies and throw them out while putting the money FF spent on them in his wallet?#Also Yes #Nicky wakes up and remembers that he promised FF that he could sleep in his room #So he is trying to make it up to FF with smiley face breakfast #FF's love of Black Friday mirrors my own #Do I like the deals? Eh. Do I like the barely concealed threat of violence? YEAH BABY #We go visit my Fam in Ohio for Thanksgiving and then me my mom and my aunt make a battle plan #Mom's on grabbing duty since she's tall while my Aunt and I are on protection detail #I got a black eye one year but the Xbox 360 was worth it for Tales of Vesperia #then we get IHOP #I miss when it started at like 5 AM #Now it just starts on Thanksgiving which is bullshit #I ain't moving from my turkey coma #AFTG Fic #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG Shitpost #Andreil #FF - Pt. 12

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fizzigigsimmer · 8 months

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That spring, Steve’s mom finally gets tired of getting cheated on and files for divorce. His dad is a dick about it and hires a bunch of lawyers to ensure that she basically leaves with nothing. Worse, he fights her for custody of Steve and taunts her with the fact she’ll never see him again - because why would any teenager want to give up everything, just to rough it out with their train-wreck of a mother? But jokes on him cause the judge basically leaves it up to Steve, and Steve would rather stomp on his own balls than get stuck with that asshole. Even if it means having to leave the big house and his car and starting over in a new place where nobody knows him.

Steve never met his mother’s side of the family in California. All he really knows is that the family disapproved of her marriage. There’s a story about his aunt coming to visit once on his birthday when he was like five, but she got in a fight with mom and she’s never been back. So Steve doesn’t even think about them when he tries to imagine what he and his mom are going to do on their own. He imagines her selling her car and the other gifts dad put in her name over the years to rent a decent apartment somewhere, maybe in Indianapolis or Chicago.

He’s really shocked one night when she announces that she’s been in touch with her family, and she she asks him about how he feels about moving to California to some sleepy little town called Moonwood. She tries to enthuse him about it by going on about how beautiful it is there, right at the edge of the national forest, but Steve’s more concerned with the fact that they’ll be living with people who hate them - and in the sticks too! Its two hours to the nearest mall! How’s he gonna find a job in this place? And what about school?

But Steve looks around at the hotel they’ve been staying in and the paper thin smile she fixes on her face to try and hide her broken heart from him and how fucked everything is, and he just wants her to be okay.

They move to California, and the one bright side is the relatives turn out to be not all that hateful. There’s awkward tension and a shit load of history there for sure, but from the minute they pull up to his grandparents house the door is thrown open and they’re welcomed with open arms. His grandpa seems a little stiff at first, but Steve gets the impression its because he doesn’t know what to do with himself as Steve’s mom and his grandma hug each other and cry. The weirdest part is when they start speaking in a language Steve’s never heard his mother use before.

Later his aunt tells him it’s lythan, but she just laughs when Steve asks if that means they’re from Lithuania. Apparently lythan is a very old language that started in romania and is only spoken today in two places. Here, and some village in romania that an ancestor immigrated from.

None of this is making sense to him but he’s just happy his mother seems happier and that he has help taking care of her, since she’s still pretty broken up about the divorce. She’s always been a passionate woman his mom. The kind of person who believes in soulmates and love at first sight. She’s always told him that when he meets the one for him he’ll know it in an instant and that he should hang on to that person with his whole heart. Which sounded great and all when he was a kid, but honestly just makes him sad now when he looks at how things turned out with her and his dad.

The first week after they get there, Steve cant sleep and catches his mother, his grandmother and his aunt talking in the kitchen late one night. He overhears her say that she knew it was a risk being with his dad, but that she’d have regretted it more if she didn’t follow her heart. Even if she wasn’t the one for Steve’s dad the way he was for her, she’d always be grateful because she has Steve. But she doesn’t want him to grow up feeling like he has to change who he is and like he always has to be the one giving to someone else just to be loved.

For the first time since the divorce Steve is almost mad at her - wants to shout it’s too late mom! - but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes. He’s just sad, for them both. But he hopes things will be okay here and that this can be a new start. It could be worse right? At least he gets a room to himself. Yeah it’s kinda weird that his aunt still lives at home and nobody seems to have a problem with that, or is talking about what his moms plans are like they expect that she’ll just be there forever now. But he figures they’re all just focused on making up for lost time right now.

And his grandma says that people in Moonwood stay close to home anway, and that most of them spend their whole lives there without leaving. It shocks him to learn that she’s never been further outside of town than to the edge of the national forest.

His second worry, about finding a job, gets resolved by his his grandfather - who runs a soda shop on the beach. There’s not much traffic durring the off season, but in summertime the redwoods draw a fair number of tourists. Steve’s kept very busy scooping up ice cream and making root beer floats while he flirts with the gap year girls who come through in groups, to backpack through the forest. He’s just turned eighteen and he’s never had much of a problem picking up girls so he has a few flings. He gets invited to parties on the beach and ends up doing a lot of hiking that summer in his downtime. But then fall rolls around and with fewer and fewer groups of tourists passing through Steve finds himself at loose ends.

School starts up again and he realizes that maybe it was a mistake not to put more of an effort into meeting local kids and making a few connections beforehand. Schiller High is over in the next district, and Moonwood is so far out the kids have to be bussed in. Steve’s a little nervous about starting a new school in his senior year but he tells himself it’s just one year. One year and then he has no idea what to do with himself after that, but at least he won’t be forced to attend school anymore. Still, he begs his mom to let him take their car to school the first day so that he doesn’t have to be the oldest kid on the bus. He’s pretty sure that’s a social constant even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Schiller seems pretty normal at first. It’s about the same size as his school back in Hawkins was. The school receptionist calls in some guy named Tim to show him around his first day and make sure he gets to all his classes. Tim’s alright, but Steve can see the neon nerd sign blinking above his head and plays it cool. He’s not an asshole or anything, he just doesn’t want to close any doors before getting the lay of the land. Steve just wants an easy year and he’s not gonna get that if he’s hanging out with a bully magnet - sorry Tim. Plus, Steve’s not exactly thrilled about the way Tim talks about ‘moonies’ - which is apparently what other people call people from Moonwood, instead of hicks or whatever. Steve doesn’t bother telling Tim that he’s technically a moonie now too.

His aspirations to plant himself firmly in the middle of the student social hierarchy and go unnoticed for the next ten months involve finding a group - or a pack as his grandfather weirdly put it when he assured Steve he’d find his in no time and start to feel more at home once school started. He asks Tim about the school’s athletic teams because being on a team with a bunch of other guys will basically do the work for him. There’s a swim team that Steve is definitely going to try out for. He’s not sure about basketball. He only got started back in Hawkins because his dad thought it was manlier than ‘playing’ in the pool. But he likes it okay, and Tim says the Schiller team has actually won a few regional titles.

Even though it’s his last year Steve figures it can’t hurt his college applications to be on a winning team for once. He probably won’t to start or anything but he thinks he has a good shot of seeing some playing time.

“I would stick with swimming if I were you. There’s no way you’re getting on the team.” Tim laughs. “The head coach is a moonie and he only ever picks guys from Moonwood.”

That doesn’t seem very legal, but that’s not Steve’s problem. He figures Tim is probably exaggerating anyway, just salty that the coach is giving a little extra focus to the guys from the less privileged side of the tracks.

Until Steve actually sees Billy and some of the other guys from the team.

It’s just before lunch when Steve and Tim have stopped by Steve’s locker. A blond kid in a red and white letterman jacket appears at the mouth of the hall, flanked by two other guys. It’s like something out of a movie the way the hallway clears for them and the other students gaze at them with awe filled expressions as if they’re watching a parade of olympians pass through.

“That’s Billy Hargrove. He’s captain of the basketball team.” Tim answers the unspoken question in Steve’s glance. “Don’t get on his bad side. He’s pretty much the top dog around here.”

Steve doesn’t need Tim to tell him Billy runs things around here. The guy is built like the terminator. Like someone who has ascended above mere mortals and wouldn’t be out of place among the gods. He’s built like a man, Steve finally settles on with an prickle of embarrassment hot in his chest. Steve’s a guy and he doesn’t go out of his way to look at other guys a lot, but he appreciates the things about them that are enviable.

Only envy is the furthest thing from Steve’s mind when he first sees Billy. It’s like time slows for Steve. His mouth gets dry, and he thinks to himself that Billy Hargrove is beautiful, and he wonders what that’s like. Steve knows he’s good looking. This isn’t some self depreciation bullshit, it’s just inexplicably different somehow the way he looks at Billy and thinks he finally understands what real beauty is. The way he instantly wants to get closer to him, reach out and touch. Billy has none of the unfinished awkwardness of a teenager. He’s a poster child for physical perfection that Steve is convinced walked off of a poster taped up on somebody’s wall, and has no business walking down the halls of an American high school. Seriously. How is this guy real?

He spares a quick glance for the other two guys with Billy - Dave & Chet - just long enough to confirm that he’s fucked. If these are the kinds of guys they’ve got on the team, Steve has no chance of seeing anything but a bench all year.

Billy and the other two stop at a locker not far from Steve’s on the other side of the hall, but not before Billy’s gaze does a casual sweep around the hall - very much a king surveying his kingdom. Steve fully expects that gaze to pass right over him just as unimpressed as it does everyone else, but to his surprise Billy’s gaze locks with his and sticks.

A little tingle dances up Steve’s spine and he sucks in a breath. He can’t tell what color Billy’s eyes are from this distance - at first he thinks they are something light, like a blue or grey, but then the corner of Billy’s mouth tilts up in a smirk and the light hits them a certain way and they look almost gold as he runs his tongue over some very white fangy teeth. Jesus the guy has some chompers on him.

Steve’s not afraid of a fight but it’s profoundly unsettling to have some dude literally licking his chops at him like he can’t wait to take a bite of the fresh meat. He’s pretty sure he just landed himself on Billy Hargrove’s shit list and he has no idea why. Fuck his life.

But he figures there’s nothing he can do about it but ignore it and hope that Billy decides he’s not worth the trouble. Steve turns to shut his locker, sending the message with his back that he doesn’t care about the dude giving him the crazy eyes and that Billy doesn’t intimidate him. His sweaty palms tell a different story, but that’s for Steve and only Steve to know.

As he leaves, he can feel Billy’s eyes burning into his back like lasers.

So much for going unnoticed for the year.

Now with Part 2

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #werewolf au #teen wolf-adjacent #lol #look it’s october and I wasn’t kidding about needing more werewolf fic in my life #will come back and tag as I can’t remember the handle atm #fizzi writes fic #this is loosley inspired by angryhuangyu's lovely fanart #moonwood

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ckret2 · 7 months

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Chapter 26 of human Bill doing his best to arm-twist his captors into doing anything he wants, featuring: the gang going to the mall, where Bill tries on some of the most ridiculous outfits known to mankind, to Mabel's delight and Stan & Dipper's despair.

(please click on the second image, you can't imagine how long it took to make those two patterns. (Okay you probably can, it was a couple hours.))

####

Bill said, "Well, you can tell Stanford that if he's got a problem with my drinking, I'd like to see him try to get a good night's sleep in an alien body without some kind of sedative! I've got a fresh new liver, three little cans of cider a day won't kill me before one of us finds a way to get me out of this body!"

Exasperated, Mabel said, "Why do I have to tell him? Just talk to each other."

"You think I don't want to? He's the one who's put two doors, an elevator, and a trick vending machine between him and me."

Mabel supposed that was true. "Okay, fine. More importantly: what do you think of going shopping?"

Bill shrugged. "Sure. I'll take any opportunity to go outside. It'll be a good test run for other trips."

Mabel frowned, clearly disappointed by the reaction. "That's it? I thought you'd be more excited. You can finally get more clothing!"

"How much clothing do I need?" He gestured down at himself, wearing his hoodie and a borrowed skirt. "I'm not naked, what more do you want from me?"

"To like your clothing!"

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting you have a whole thing about people other than you being happy."

Mabel socked his arm. "Do you just not care about clothes? I didn't expect you to be like Dipper about it."

Eugh. "It's not that I don't like fashion in general," Bill said, eager to distance himself from the household wet blanket. "I have very strong opinions on other people's fashion! It's just..."

It was just that he didn't relish the idea of standing in front of a mirror, partially nude, staring at the bone-caged skin prison he was locked inside.

He still put towels over the bathroom mirror when he showered.

"Well," he said, "isn't the whole point of fashion self-expression? And my self can't be expressed in this body." He tugged on the collar of his hoodie, "This is as close as it's gonna get."

"Does clothing have to express your self? Can't it just look really cool?" Mabel asked.

Bill considered that. "I do like looking really cool."

Maybe he didn't have to see it as dressing himself. Treat it like inflicting his design whims upon a helpless human puppet. He'd done that before, he liked doing that. He was lucky, at least, that as far as puppets went, this was an incredibly good-looking one. Aside from the neck.

"Do I have to wear that, though?" Bill skeptically eyed the knit garment held in Mabel's hands.

"Yep! Grunkle Ford's orders! It's to make sure you don't talk to people."

"Can I put it on over my hoodie?"

"As heartwarming as it is that you love it so much: no, you've gotta take it off."

"How come?"

"It's safer this way! Your hoodie might freak people out."

"Freak them out how?"

####

Soos trudged into the kitchen at 3 a.m., yawning, and turned on the lights.

The Bill Cipher, triangular and angular, gold-bricked and one-eyed, hovered in the air.

Soos screamed. "He's back! Everyone watch out! You stay away from my family, you—" Soos picked up the nearest weapon and chucked it at Bill.

The spatula bounced harmlessly off his chest and clattered to the floor. Bill took his hood off. "Wow. Thanks for getting my hopes up, Questiony."

"Oh, whoops. Sorry 'bout that. At a quick glance, that hoodie makes you look a lot like... you." Soos looked Bill up and down again. "Hey. How come you're standing on the kitchen table in the middle of the night?"

"Eh." Bill shrugged. "It passes the time."

####

"Sometimes I curse your species's overactive pattern-detection instincts." Bill snatched Mabel's offering out of her hand and trudged to the bathroom to change.

He emerged a moment later wearing the tank top Mabel had knit for him, and tugged out the hem to examine it. She'd cross-stitched on the chest: "STAY BACK! I BITE SALES PEOPLE!"

"I'd be pretty insulted," Bill said, "if this wasn't the funniest thing I've ever worn."

####

Stan pulled the old Diablo near the porch to minimize the amount of time Bill would spend in open air between confinement in the shack and in a vehicle; then waited leaning against the car, glowering at the ground like the world's surliest chauffeur (he'd even put on his suit), for Dipper and Mabel to escort the prisoner outside.

The second Bill stepped off of the porch, he looked up in amazement. "What is that?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at Bill's face, then in the direction he was looking. He was staring straight into the sun without squinting. Mabel said, "The... sun?"

"No, not the sun! I mean the—" Bill gestured toward the sun. "Whatever it's doing."

Mabel looked skyward again. She didn't see anything else Bill could be referring to. "Shining?"

"I know what sunshine is!"

"Then what are you asking about!"

Bill studied the sky a moment longer. Finally, he said, "Guess I don't know what sunshine feels like! It's been a long time since I've been naked in the sun."

Stan's head snapped up to stare at Bill. Bill was still completely clothed.

After another few seconds, arms outstretched, staring in blank-faced wide-eyed wonder at the sky, Bill concluded, "I think I'm photosynthesizing again."

This time Dipper looked over. And, Bill was still completely human—a species notoriously well-known for not photosynthesizing. "'Again'?"

Bill didn't respond. Instead, with a shrill cackle that startled the nearby birds out of the trees, he took off at a full sprint.

"Hey!" Dipper tore after him. Stan tensed up, but then grunted, leaned back against his car, and waited for Bill to trip.

Bill's run was the awkward bouncing gait of a moon astronaut on fast forward: someone who at some point had definitely learned how to run, but clearly wasn't used to doing it in this body on this world. He switched to an odd sideways crab-walk gallop—which was, surprisingly, faster—and then attempted, and failed, a cartwheel. Dipper dove for Bill, Stan laughed at them both, and Mabel shouted encouragement at Bill from the porch; Bill hopped back up just before Dipper could catch him.

He attempted a second cartwheel but was caught in the middle by an invisible force jerking his wrist. He yelped and tumbled to the ground. "I think I twisted my arm!" He sounded way too giddy about this.

Mabel looked down at her own wrist and the chain bracelet. She wasn't being actively pulled toward Bill; but nevertheless she couldn't pull her wrist any further away from him. "It worked."

"Of course it did!" Breathing heavily, Bill got to his feet and leaned backward on his heels, using the tension of the bracelet around his wrist to keep from falling. "What, did you ever doubt me?"

"Yes," Stan said. "Always," Dipper said. "Every time you open your mouth," Mabel said.

"You're all haters."

Mabel took a flying leap off of the porch. Bill toppled on his back again.

Once they were all loaded in the car—Dipper in the front glaring in the rear view mirror, Mabel and Bill in the back with Bill making faces at the mirror—Stan said, "Okay. I'm not getting you anything nice, because you're not worth it."

"Aww. And after I made you almost five grand?"

Dipper's jaw dropped. "He what?! When did—"

Raising his voice, Stan went on, "So we're going to Shop Thrifty. Any complaints?"

Bill said, "You don't wanna go there."

Stan turned to give him a dark look.

"You don't," Bill said. "They were robbed this weekend. Security's gonna be high."

"No they weren't, you can't know that. You're making that up. I'm calling your bluff."

Dipper cleared his throat. "Actually... yeah, they were robbed. I've been investigating the possibility that it might've been..." At the sight of Bill's keen gaze in the rear view mirror, Dipper trailed off into mumbles.

Bill waited a second longer to ensure Dipper was properly cowed; then said, "See? You can trust me! But if you want to go to the thrift shop..."

"Ha." Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel; then reluctantly said, "I guess we could go to the mall—"

Mabel pumped her fists in the air. "THE MALL!"

"Yes! Finally!" Bill dragged his hands down his face in relief. "Civilization! Other people!"

"Hey!" Stan turned around to point threateningly at Bill. Bill held up his hands to block the accusatory finger. "This still isn't a social trip. Talk to anyone and we're going back to the car."

"I know, I know. I just wanna look at people. That's all!" Bill said. "You know that feeling when you come out of a couple weeks in the hole? When you're grateful just to see anybody?"

Stan's frown deepened; but he didn't say anything. He just turned around, ignored Dipper's curious look, and started driving.

Mabel and Bill high-fived.

####

As the car pulled into a parking spot, Mabel handed Bill a pair of mirrored sunglasses with one lens popped out. Bill rolled his (yellow, slitted) eye, but he switched his eyepatch over to the lensless side of the sunglasses and put them on. "Nobody'll notice my eyes. They only look inhuman at certain angles."

"We're being extra cautious," Mabel said.

"If you're gonna make me wear shades any time I'm in public, can I at least pick a pair I like while I'm here?"

Mabel said, "Sure!" at the same time Stan said, "Not a chance." Dipper looked between the two of them, and said, "I'm with Stan."

"I wasn't taking a vote." Bill leaned forward to shove Dipper's hat over his eyes, and followed Mabel out of the car before Dipper could retaliate.

Bill's grin got a little wider and his gait a little bouncier the closer they got to the mall, until he was practically skipping through the automatic doors. "Look at this place! I can't remember the last time I visited a bazaar this booming in person! Two stories, even! Wow!"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Gravity Malls was, by far, the smallest mall either of them had ever visited. You could see from one end of it to the other in a straight shot, and the anchor store was just a more popular chain's discount outlet location. Dipper muttered, "He's trying too hard to talk up the place."

Mabel giggled. "Maybe he's easily impressed."

Bill evidently didn't care. He was too busy taking in the sight of all the stores and all the people who didn't hate his guts (or, at least, didn't know they did). He chipperly said, "Hey there!" as he wove around a haggard teenage kiosk salesman.

"Hello?" Snapping into sales mode, the kiosk kid said, "Are you interested in genuine gold-plated signet rings? We have rings with dragons, eagles, Chinese characters, American flags, football teams..."

Bill did a u-turn without slowing down. "Boy, am I! You got any secret societies?"

Stan wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders—"No, you're not interested."—and dragged him away. He lowered his voice. "What happened to no talking to anyone?"

Bill laughed. "Sorry, I got excited!"

"Uh-huh. Get 'excited' one more time, and I'll assume you're 'forgetting' the rules on purpose and we're going home."

Bill stopped laughing. "Okay, fine." He trudged alongside Stan, sulking.

####

Stan tried to direct them toward the discount outlet store; Bill looked wistfully at Edgy On Purpose; Mabel overruled them both by grabbing Bill's hand and bodily dragging him to the coolest store in the mall: 18th Century, the place where the almost-and-barely college kids shopped, and Mabel's newest fashion avatars now that she'd had a year to explore "teenage" fashion and had gotten over it. "You can tell it's for college kids, because they also sell bedsheets and inflatable furniture," she explained as they entered, just before abandoning Bill with Stan as she ran off to start collecting clothing on Bill's behalf. Bill and Stan side-eyed each other, and Bill drifted off toward the small home goods section.

"Ooh, Dipper look." Mabel pointed at a sales rack. "Out-of-season prom dresses! Those are the fanciest dresses!" She dove in eagerly, checking the size tags.

Dipper hovered behind her, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to stand far enough away that it didn't look like he was an active participant in this shopping trip but not so far away that people might start wondering why a thirteen-year-old boy was in the dress section by himself. "Are you shopping for B—for Goldie, or for yourself?"

"For Goldie, obviously! He likes having a triangular silhouette, he needs dresses!"

"Does he want dresses?"

Mabel made a vague I dunno sound. "I haven't asked him yet."

"Maybe you should?"

"It's fine, I'm going to! He can tell me when he catches up!" Mabel pulled out a sequin-studded dress that looked like it had been constructed out of fluorescent pink peacock feathers. She paused. "Okay, it's not exactly his style, but do you think he might try it on anyway?"

Dipper groaned. "Mabel, he's a guy, he's not gonna try on a dress. He wears top hats and bow ties, remember?"

"I know, but... just for fun...?"

Dipper shook his head. Mabel sighed.

Bill rounded a rack of clothing, using a curtain rod he'd claimed out of the home goods section like it was a cane. "Hey, star girl. I know we're here on a focused mission, buuut do you think we could spare a minute to try something just for fun..." He trailed off as he and Mabel simultaneously realized they were both holding a pink peacock dress. Bill's face lit up. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up! How are you this cool!"

"Where's the dressing room."

They took off for the back of the store, Bill tripping over a whole clothing rack as he went.

Dipper watched them uncomfortably, decided he didn't want to follow, and picked his way to the front of the store, where Stan was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed tightly and a sour look on his face. Dipper asked, "Does it worry you how well Mabel and Goldie..."

"Ohhh yeah."

####

Bill swung open the dressing room door. "Well? Whaddaya think?" He fanned out the feathers as best he could with his hands.

"It's so beautiful," Mabel said.

"It's hideous," Stan said.

"It's kinda baggy around the shoulders and chest," Dipper said.

Bill shrugged. "I've got the shoulder span of a snake and the hips of a sumo wrestler, what do you expect?"

"It's okay, I can tailor anything we get," said Mabel, who had never tailored anything in her life but was sure she had a book on it in Piedmont.

"Tailor nothing," Stan said, "we're not getting this! What, are you crazy?"

Bill said, "Obviously."

Stan gestured at him. "What in the world would you wear this for?"

"Who cares? It looks cool and this body is merely a meat armature to drape coolness upon." Bill stepped back into the dressing room to eye the dress in the mirror. "Color's a little uniform, though. I'd need some accessories to break it up."

"I think you're right," Mabel said, stroking her chin. "You know what color goes best with hot pink?"

Simultaneously, she and Bill said, "Lime green," then cracked up and pointed at each other excitedly.

Stan and Dipper exchanged a tired look.

####

"How about this one?" Bill looked at Stan and Dipper, who were standing guard while Mabel searched for more clothes. "It's obviously the best shirt in the store, but is it me?" Bill was wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt covered in bright multicolored triangles with animal skin patterns—leopard, zebra, tiger, checkers—and a pair of black jeans that fit his hips but consequently drowned his ankles. "Trick question. It's me all over!" He laughed. His laughter petered out. "It's... it's more me than I am. Wow."

Dipper and Stan didn't laugh. "I'm a Hawaiian shirt kind of man," Stan said, "but if the choice was between that thing and going naked, I'd go naked."

"Keep your nudist fantasies to yourself, Stanley." Bill studied his reflection again. "The shirt's great, but they make the pants look dull. I need something that coordinates with it. But what..."

Mabel returned while Bill was musing on his shirt. She wordlessly held out the pair of cheetah/tiger print rainbow leggings she'd been retrieving. It matched the shirt perfectly, in the sense that they both had so many colors on them that inevitably some of those colors were accidentally the same.

Bill accepted the leggings with an expression close to awe. "You're a fashion genius," he said. "Are you sure you don't want your own planet?"

"Not from you," Mabel said.

And for a moment, Bill actually almost looked hurt.

####

Bill held up several shirts thoughtfully. The first was an eye-searing abomination; the second was a retina-burning nightmare; and the third was about the same, but it was covered in smiley faces, and somehow that made it worse.

"I feel like they'd all have the right psychological effect on my enemies," Bill said, "but all three is a little redundant, isn't it?"

Not looking, Stan asked, "Is the effect you're trying to have boring your enemies to death? Because it's working."

Bill scowled. He chucked all three at Stan's face. "Fine! Stick them in the 'maybe' pile, I'll narrow them down later." By this point, the "maybe" pile in Stan's arms was almost too big for him to carry.

"My willingness to indulge Mabel is losing to my annoyance at indulging you," Stan said. "I thought this was going to be a quick trip."

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda getting into it."

"Well, would you get out of it and dress like a normal person?"

"Okay, fine. I'll try on something subtle—"

"Goldie!" Mabel ran up waving a ruby red jacket over her head. "Look what I found in the clearance bin! Glittery vinyl!"

Bill's eyes widened.

Reverently, Mabel said, "It looks like a 50's diner booth."

"Is the picture on the back a—?"

"Yeah, it's a puking kangaroo."

Bill snatched the jacket from her hands. "I'll try something subtle after this."

Stan groaned. "I'm gonna stretch my legs." He dropped the "maybe" pile on the floor. "Dipper, make sure the demon doesn't try to end the world while I'm gone."

Dipper resigned himself to the fact that this shopping trip was never going to end, and curled up on the floor to wait to die.

####

"Now, this is a keeper," Bill said, examining the summer dress in the mirror. With Stan gone, Bill had a moment of leisure to properly inspect the way the fabric moved and draped. He was using the opportunity to grab the skirt and twirl it like a three-year-old who'd never worn a dress before. "It really speaks to me."

Mabel asked, "Is it because it's covered in—?"

"It's because it's covered in yellow triangles. I know what I like!" He spun around to see how the skirt flared out, tripped and fell over—"I meant to do that!"��and heaved himself back upright with his curtain rod cane. "I'm fine, shoo." He waved off Mabel's attempt to help, and brushed off the dress. "Too bad it looks weird with pants. I'd prefer my legs covered, but dresses are the only thing most human stores carry that flatter my shape, so what're you gonna do."

"What about more leggings?" Mabel asked.

"Do they have any black ones that don't look like cheap spandex?"

"I think I saw some that look like jeans!"

"It'll do. Good thinking, star girl."

"Any time, triangle... guy." Mabel paused. "Hey... just out of curiosity—since I don't think we ever really covered this, since you're an alien and all—aaare you a guy or a girl?"

"I'm a triangle! C'mon, you already know that."

Mabel opened her mouth to protest that Bill hadn't answered her question; hesitated as she realized that maybe, in fact, he had; and instead asked, "Is a triangle more like a guy or a girl?"

Bill paused as he gave the question a moment of contemplation; and then he said, "No, not really."

Dipper, who'd been using the "maybe" clothing pile as a pillow and pretending to ignore everything Bill did, finally gave in to the urge to glance over curiously.

Mabel concluded a triangle must be either in the exact middle of the scale, or else outside of it completely. "Oh! Okay."

Bill elbowed Mabel and said, "Keep this bit between you and me," blithely ignoring the fact that Dipper was totally within earshot and now seething about being ignored in return. "But if anyone else on this planet asks, I'll usually imply I'm a 'man,'" he put the word in finger quotes, as though he wasn't wholly convinced that "men" really existed, "but—that's strictly for business."

"Business?"

"You know, work stuff," Bill said dismissively. "It makes things easier. See, for the last few millennia, most humans have taken a male's suggestions a bit more seriously than a female's, even when the entity they're talking to is an all-knowing extra-dimensional divine alien angelic muse. Crazy, right?" He said this like he was imparting some great secret he'd figured out by himself.

"Ugh, yeah," Mabel groaned. "Sexism."

"Sexism," Bill sighed, as if he had any dog in this fight at all and wasn't just pretending he could commiserate with his only local friend. "So I figure I can get things done faster as a Bill than a Jill. But honestly? Your local gender system doesn't make any more difference to me than it would to you if somebody asked how many sides you have."

Mabel considered the matter of her hypothetical sides. "I feel like I'd have seven sides."

"Oho! I stand corrected." Bill laughed. "I would've pegged you as a pentagon. I'll remember that."

Mabel had no idea what information she'd just conveyed to Bill, but she felt like he was impressed she had an answer at all.

####

"How about this one?"

"I love it. It's so mysterious," Mabel said.

Stan said, "I thought you were gonna try on something subtle?"

"What's more subtle than camo! That's the whole point of it!"

Dipper said, "You're not wearing camo."

Bill looked down at his galaxy print tank top, galaxy print button up, galaxy print skirt, galaxy print leggings, and galaxy print sneakers. "I guess what counts as camouflage depends on the context."

"Wh—" Dipper blinked at Bill in disbelief. "In what context could this possibly qualify as camouflage?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Drily, Stan asked, "You got travel plans taking you to outer space anytime soon, pal?"

Bill's shoulders slumped.

"Now put on something you might actually wear," Stan said.

####

Bill opened the dressing room door with four sets of basic black leggings and pants, a couple shorts, and several plain tops in various shades of gold and yellow. "Okay, done."

"Not gonna model each of these for us?" Stan asked.

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Fine! You kids don't need to weigh in on these—they're not as fun as the other outfits you were busy unappreciating." Bill shoved the whole pile against Stan's chest, burying the "maybe" outfits he'd insisted he would narrow down. "Okay, let's go."

Stan scowled. "How many outfits did we agree to get you?"

"You didn't." Bill headed to the front of the store.

Mabel started to follow him, paused, glanced back at Stan, and said, "Maybe you can just... toss some of it back on the racks?"

"Maybe you can toss most of it," Dipper said. "How much does he really need, like two shirts and two pants?"

Mabel laughed. "Shut up, that's what you wear!"

Stan rolled his eyes, but headed to the front of the store with an armload of clothing.

The cashier smiled as Bill approached, read his "I BITE SALES PEOPLE" shirt, and quickly turned her attention to Stan. "Hi! Did you find everything you needed?"

"Yeah, and then some," he grumbled, shooting a look at Bill and Mabel. He dumped the pile of clothing on the counter with a heavy groan proportionate to the emotional weight of carrying Bill Cipher's shopping, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where'd I put my wallet?"

As the cashier scanned the clothes, took off the security tags, and stuffed them into bags, Stan alternated between snatching up the bags to sling them over his arms—looking grumpier with each one—and searching for his wallet. "I'm sure I put... ah-ha!" He withdrew it triumphantly. "There! I know I've got a twenty in here somewhere."

The cashier immediately stopped scanning to give Stan a perplexed look. Hopefully, she asked, "Will you be paying for the rest by card?"

"What do you mean, 'the rest'? How much could this stuff—?" Stan grabbed the price tag on one of the shirts, squinted at it, and grabbed his chest. "Holy moly! For one shirt? This is robbery!"

Mabel winced. "I guess it's a little bit pricier than the thrift shop, but it's not that bad—is it?"

"Not that bad?! For prices like this, it'd be cheaper to get a boat ticket to Taiwan and rob the sweatshop where they sew this stuff! Forget it!" He started sliding bags off his arms and tossing them back on the counter. "Keep them! We're not shopping here!"

"But Grunkle Stan!" Mabel grabbed his coat. "We just found a bunch of stuff that's perfect for Goldie! Please?"

"Do you think I care? He'd be wearing potato sacks if I had my way! We'll go to the outlet store, those are the prices he deserves."

Dipper groaned. "Do we have to do this whole thing all over again?" He and Mabel both looked pleadingly at Bill, waiting for him to protest the return of his carefully-curated wardrobe of tacky golden horrors.

Bill shrugged. "If he didn't bring enough money to the mall, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Hey! This isn't on me! If it wasn't for you, we'd be at the Shop Thrifty right now!"

Bill scoffed. "Come on, Stanley. It's the 2010's. Even at a thrift store, how far do you think a Jackson's gonna carry you?"

"I think it'd get me a sock I could cram in your mouth, how do you like that?" Stan tossed the last bag on the counter, told the dismayed cashier, "And he looked ugly in everything he picked out, anyway," and stomped toward the door.

"I'm so sorry," Mabel said to the cashier, and hurried after Stan with Dipper. "But Grunkle Stan, we found so many nice things here! We could at least get a couple shirts or leggings..."

"Hey," Bill said. "It's okay, kid."

Mabel shut her mouth, but she didn't look happy about it.

The party trailed behind Stan past a couple of stores, before Bill sped up to walk alongside him and asked, "Well? What's our haul?"

Stan grunted. "What?"

A slow, sly grin spread across Bill's face. "Come on. You can fool the humans, but you can't fool me. What's our haul?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill raised a brow.

Stan only lasted a couple of seconds before he cracked a mischievous smile as well. "Oh, did you mean this haul?" He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a pair of leggings. And then another pair. And then, from his other pocket, a Hawaiian shirt. And—

Mabel gasped. "Grunkle Stan," she hissed. "You didn't!"

"Aw, man." Dipper smacked his forehead. "So all that was an act?"

—and three pairs of socks out of his jacket sleeve, and a dress from his inner coat pocket, and— "Yeeep. I've still got it."

Mabel and Dipper exchanged an exasperated look.

"And you were gonna hit the thrift store." Bill lifted his sunglasses so Stan could see him roll his eye.

"Hey, they've usually got less security than the mall. It's a safer score."

"Cheaper, too."

"You shut up! I'd like to see you do as well."

A bright smile snapped across Bill's face. "Would you! Then get a load of this—" He showed off the front and back of one empty hand, then the other; curled one into a fist; pushed his fingers into the fist and plucked out a corner of fabric; and then, like a magician revealing a long line of scarves tied at the corners, pulled out one garment after another, shirts and skirts and pants. Mabel buried her face in her hands. Dipper looked around like he expected mall security to run up and immediately arrest them all. Bill said, "What'd we lift, almost half the stuff I picked? Neither of us managed to get the kangaroo jacket, did we."

"How did you..." Stan trailed off, jaw dropped.

Bill smugly stuffed the clothing back under his tank top. "All that, and... these." Bill lifted one foot and wiggled it, showing off the yellow foam clogs he'd changed into.

"You just walked out with those on?"

"Sure! You'd be amazed what you can do in plain sight—as long as you don't call attention to it."

"Where the heck are your sandals?"

"Not my problem." Bill gestured vaguely back toward 18th Century with his curtain rod cane. "From the lost-and-found they came, to the lost-and-found they shall return."

Stan, having had his attention called to the curtain rod cane, snatched it out of Bill's hand with a muttered "No weapons," and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Bill watched it go with an expression of miffed resignation. Stan said, "Okay, but how'd you get the security tags off all of those?"

And Bill's grin was back. "Maybe I'll show you—if you show me how you got all that clothing out of those bags into your pockets."

"I thought you were watching."

"My eye is better than my physical coordination. Give me a couple pointers and I'll give you a couple."

Stan looked doubtful. "I just saw you hide half a suitcase under a tank top. I don't think you need any more help with..."

"I'll sweeten the deal," Bill said. "I'm not really a clogs guy. You set me up to walk out with a pair of proper dress shoes, and I'll help you grab a couple rings from that booth at the door?"

Stan scowled. Bill grinned wider. "Come ooon. I know you were eyeing those rings too."

"If we get caught and you throw me under the bus, I'm dragging you down with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it! I don't think either of us can afford to show up on the police's radar, do you?"

"All right, fine. You've got yourself a deal, Cipher."

Mabel silently slid her cell phone over to Dipper so he could text Soos and Ford about this unsettling development.

####

(Thanks for reading!! As always, if you made it this far I deeply appreciate any thoughts & comments you want to share! Stay tuned next week for the unsettling development to get Even Worse.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher

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spectres-n-soap · 2 months

Text

Times Long Since Past - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, therapy, pregnancy

A/N - Not gonna lie when I say I nearly cried writing this part.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The therapy office was located in a strip mall that had obviously once been a 1950s era housing estate in the past. You glance around the parking lot before Simon places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you from whatever pit you were trying to sink into. “Don’t stress.” He mutters and you roll your eyes.

“When in the history of the world did that ever make someone not stress?” You ask and he shakes his head but you can see his eyes crinkle just slightly. You sigh and look at the general area where the office was as your hand rests on your stomach. “Do you really think this will help?”

Simon nods, “It helps.” You sigh again before you nod and begin walking towards the office. A bell jingles over the door when you enter the office, Simon not far behind you and keeps the door open for you so it doesn’t bang into you. The receptionist smiles at you, a well practiced kind smile as she gestures for you to come forward. The waiting room was comfortable, only one other person sat in one of the chairs mindlessly flipping through the magazines.

“Name?” The woman asks and you try not to let the happiness in her voice grate on your soul. Would you be happy like her again? You give her your name and she nods as she types it into the computer, “Date of birth?” You mindlessly rattle it off and give her the time of your appointment (in fifteen minutes) and she smiles at you, “Alright, if you could fill out these forms,” She passes the forms on a clipboard with a pen. “And take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

You waddle over to the nearest seat and sit down before you start to fill out the form. Its basic questions and you recognize them all from your psych evals in the military. You bite your cheek before you begin to fill them out truthfully. When you finish, you hand the clipboard back to the receptionist and sit back down.

The therapist is nice. Clinically nice. You want to scream and rage as he calmly asks questions about what brought you here. His voice is perfectly level and you can’t even use it as an excuse for the reason you think he’s judging you. “It's not my job to judge, it's my job to help.” He says when you hesitate to answer.

“I lost someone very close to me.” You answer, picking over the words carefully because you and Johnny hadn’t put a label on it before he had died. Your stomach lurches at that sudden thought and you squeeze your hands into fists.

“I see. Was this person the father of your child?” He asks and you nod tightly. The thought still leaves an awful taste in your mouth.

“He died in action.” You take in a shaky breath, “He didn’t even know.”

“Let's start there. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable we can stop this session.”

You leave not feeling better or worse but like a small weight had been lifted from your chest. As you walk back out into the waiting room with the therapist, talking about the date of your next appointment you see Simon. You freeze, having totally forgotten he had promised to wait for you the entire time. He inclines his head at you and you're brought crashing back into reality.

You climb into his car and as he turns it on he offers to buy some lunch. “Got any cravings?”

“I’m pregnant. Of course I have cravings.” You grumble, “Mexican food. From this little hole in the wall place.” He hands you his phone, which is all kinds of busted up but the screen still works so he hasn’t replaced it yet, for you to type the address into.

You take a seat at one of the outside tables and a young man hands you both a small menu. The smell from inside the restaurant makes your stomach rumble and apparently the baby is into the smell too because they kick at your stomach. Hard.

You wince and bow your head a little as you hiss out a “ Fuck. ” You don’t see the way panic shoots through Simon but you feel his hand grab yours. You don’t pull away.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” He asks and you shake your head.

“The baby just decided to do some kickboxing, no big deal.” You let out a tight laugh that hardly seems to convince Simon. “Simon, I’ll tell you if it hurts okay? Promise.” Those words seem to put at ease and the arrival of your waiter draws attention from the way his ears turn pink.

Lunch is quiet between the two of you after that moment partially helped by the way you sort of shovel the food into your mouth. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as you bite into enchilada and Simon coughs on the sweet soda he had been drinking.

You and Simon arrive back at your flat, takeout box in hand because your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you had ordered another enchilada and he places it in your fridge as you settle down onto the couch. Exhaustion pulls at you despite the good sleep you had gotten last night and you hardly notice when Simon places the throw blanket on your lap.

“You know… you still have some gifts to open.” Simon mutters and you look at him with bleary eyes and make a noise of confusion before you look at what he has in his hands. The gifts from the MacTavish family. Your stomach sinks and your throat closes up at the sight. You sniffle but reach for one of the soft green green eyes.

Inside the first one is a little soft green dinosaur onesie and a few baby books. One of the books has a couple of lullabies and nursery rhymes. The other is easy recipes to make during the first couple months with the baby. More onesies in the next one, soft blues, pinks and yellows, a teddy bear and a card with a heartfelt message from his sisters. Of course a few items such as a milk pump and a diaper bag are already filled to the brim with items.

Just as you think you’ve finished opening everything, Simon hands you a card and one more bag. “The cards from Mrs. MacTavish, the bag is from me.” He clarifies although he really didn’t need to. The bag was a soft gray. You open his gift first and genuinely laugh when it's a onesie with little skulls. You shake your head at his gift before you set it to the side. You carefully pull the card from the envelope it was in and open it. A couple pictures fall onto your lap but you read the message first.

My bairn was a lot of trouble during those first few months. I hope yours doesn’t come with the same mischief for the sake of both of you. I know there is nothing I can say to ease the pain or the hole that Johnny left in you but you’re not alone. You’ve been given a beautiful gift whether he knew it or not. You’ll always have a piece of my wee boy and you’ll always be welcome in my home. I’ve made a few copies of pictures of when Johnny was a wee bairn for you. Welcome to the MacTavish family.

You glance down at the pictures, tears in your eyes as you look through them. You couldn’t help the small laugh that left you at one of the pictures. Chubby baby Johnny pouting in his chosen outfit but the others make tears fall from your eyes. You rub your thumb over one of the photos of him smiling up at the camera, chubby hands holding his foot up.

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scientia-rex · 9 months

Text

Read some more of Toxic Parents tonight and wow!!!! the amount of anger I have!!! and the incredible unwillingness I have to actually remember my childhood and feel associated feelings!!!!! Like, there are events I keep telling over like talismans, because these are the events that prove I'm not crazy. These are things that happened that should never have happened. The time Dad kicked the door in is the biggest one. The time I spent twelve straight hours cowering in the far back of our station wagon with my fingers jammed in my ears so I wouldn't hear my father screaming at my mother and my mother sobbing as we drove to a different state. The time I told my mother I had gotten accepted to graduate school and her first words were, "How are you going to pay for it?" instead of "Congratulations" or "I'm proud of you."

But these aren't all of it. They're so far from all of it. One memory I have is not of the presence of abuse, but the sudden, bewildering absence of it: my sister drove me to the nearest town with a mall, an hour and a half away. We were stopping to pick up snacks for the drive back, I think at a Safeway. I picked up a box of Golden Grahams cereal and nervously asked my sister if I could have it. She said, "Of course you can, you know what you want." In the limbus of a childhood spent being told I was picking the wrong soda for myself when I gave my order at fast food restaurants, suddenly being told I could have what I wanted T-boned me emotionally. It was like running into a wall I hadn't known was there. What? I can just want things? I can just get things and have them because I want them? I don't have to justify it, or lie, or hide what I want? No one is going to tell me I'm stupid for wanting something or that I'll regret it?

Just an incessant drip-drip-drip of emotional abuse, sometimes punctuated by a flash flood. "If I leave your mother, how do you think you're going to eat? You're going to end up on the street."

And now, reading the section on how children end up feeling about the passive parents who enable abuse, I just think, oh, there's me! There's me. I hated her and pitied her and loved her and wanted more for her. I didn't have the adult emotional capacity to understand how much of her life she was complicit in, but damningly, I did vaguely, tangentially understand that she was constantly making excuses for Dad--coming to my bedroom to sit on my bed and tell me, while crying, that he was sorry, while he never apologized. Making it my job to comfort her. I said to her once that I remember, "If he was really sorry, he'd stop doing this," and she just looked at me with something that looked like sorrow but I could tell was rage--she was angry at me for not forgiving him and letting us snap right back into the "good" phase between angry outbursts, where we could, for however long it lasted, pretend to be a normal family.

And how she always resented me. She resented that I was separate from her, she resented that I could do and see and understand things she couldn't, she was angry when I went into Psychology, even angrier when I went into medicine. She's been throttling down her anger at Dad for as long as I've been alive, pretending to be malleable, having vague health complaints and maladies mixed in among the real ones, forever retiring to her bed with a washcloth over her eyes instead of interacting with me.

And now that I'm an adult, and not just an adult but a middle-aged doctor, why don't I call? Why do I insist on bringing up the past? Why do I expect Dad to apologize? I'm hurting his feelings, after all.

The past. Sure. When I graduated from medical school, he named the worst doctor we ever met and said, "He went to medical school, too. Don't get a big head."

And when we were talking, once, not long ago, maybe two years or so, about how he used to stand there and yell at us--I can't remember any of the words anymore, just the way he looked, the tone of his voice, the experience like being buffeted by a strong wind--he said, "At least your sister fought back. You just stood there and took it."

I can't imagine a clearer illustration that he doesn't actually regret his behavior. He doesn't regret his actions. He still feels justified. We were disappointments, we were failures, we weren't him, we weren't what he wanted for us, and more than that, we were convenient targets for his rage. You can do almost anything to your children and get away with it. And he didn't hit us, so it was okay, and the fact that we were hurt by the actions he took with the intent to hurt us means that we were weak. And it's okay to hurt the weak.

Christ! This is the man who, in a fit of sullen self-pity, when I gave him a mug that said "World's #1 Dad" for Father's Day when I was probably eight or nine, talked about how we both know that's not true. As if a child is your therapist. As if it were my responsibility to reassure him.

My mother has read Toxic Parents. My mother has read Why Does He Do That? She has a bachelor's and most of a master's in psychology. She has an IQ of 150. She is a bad mother. It feels like the worst judgment you can make, a bad mother. It feels worse than calling someone a bad father. Because we expect less from fathers. But a bad mother is unnatural.

But lots and lots and lots of mothers are bad at being mothers. And I love mine and I hate her, and I'm angry and I'll always be angry, and I'll die angry, and I have to try to carve what happiness I can from a world I entered into under false pretenses. I was always told I was wanted. I knew I wasn't. I may have been intentional, but I wasn't wanted.

My mother's mother just died last week. I didn't know her. She chose not to know us. I hadn't seen her since I was twenty-two and graduated from college. My mother is struggling with her relationship with her mother. She often tells me her mother was a narcissist. I want to ask her what she thinks she is. She's not a narcissist, but she's an enabler, she's a doormat, she's a classic case of codependency, and I don't think she sees it that way. I always got the sense she was just waiting for us to grow up and go away so she and Dad could go back to being happily miserable alone together.

I asked her, this last year, if she'd read Why Does He Do That? and she said she had, and she asked me carefully why I was thinking about it, waiting for me to confess to her that my husband of ten years was abusive. She's been gunning for this relationship since the beginning--I'd been with him for maybe a year when she mailed me a copy of He's Just Not That Into You (or maybe it was the sequel, It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken) along with an article on how to date as a single older woman. I was 23. She was flabbergasted when I said I thought Dad was abusive. Denied it immediately. I listed examples and she didn't even say words, just made simultaneously pained and exasperated noises.

She wants me to be single and a career failure and pathetic so she can feel good about herself in comparison. Dad thinks he wants me to be like him, but if I actually behaved like he does, I think he finally would belt me.

I had to hide everything good in me from them so they wouldn't deliberately ruin it. I couldn't tell them about my writing. The first time I finished writing a novel I told Mom and she didn't even acknowledge it, just told me to do the dishes. I was sixteen. I can't tell them what I love about my husband because it would be like speaking to them in a foreign language. They think it's a performance, like their performance, and they're always waiting for me to slip up and reveal the misery they're sure is lurking just underneath.

I've done well. They don't own me. I wish I had real parents, but I'm going to try not to shop for oranges at the hardware store anymore.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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specialagentlokitty · 2 months

Text

Aizawa x reader - a heroes spirit

I have a request for Aizawa if that's alright. Maybe where R is a vigilante that's been running around the city taking down criminal organization's or something like that and Aizawa is sent after them to find out why they are doing this so maybe it ends in a fight and he has to use his quirk to stop R? So when the R tells why they are doing this is maybe revenge for a close family member that died? - Anon💜

Running down the street, you took a sharp turn, sliding into the crowd of people, weaving in and out of them all as the hero that was chasing you tried to grab you.

You knew Hawks was above you relaying your every move to them as well, so you had to get somewhere he wasn’t going to be able to follow, and you had to be quick about it.

Eyes searching around, saw the mall nearby and ran straight towards there, if you could get in there, you could loose them all in some shops, so that’s what you did.

You stepped aside as you ran, and you pulled your hood up a little tighter, diving into an even larger crowd, then following a group into a shop.

You hung about in there for a while, looking around, and you found a different jacket from yours, so you walked over to the cashier, handing over cash for the jacket.

“Keep the change, is there a changing room?”

“Uh… no, I’m sorry.”

You nodded your head, and you looked out the entrance where a few heroes were looking for you in all the shops.

“Is there a restroom I could use?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to but I guess since you’ve already brought the jacket, yeah. Here.”

The boy led you to the back, and opened the door for you, letting you slip inside where you hung above for a minute, changing your jacket.

You finally came out, having left your old jacket hidden behind a couple of boxes in there, and you bowed your head to the boy before leaving.

Slipping back out into the public you slowly walked around this time, only stopped when Best Jeanist approached.

“Excuse me, have you see this person running around?”

He showed you his phone, showing you a photo they’d managed to get off you a few days prior, but they couldn’t see your face.

“No sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright, thank you.”

He asked another group who looked at the photo.

“Hey it’s the vigilante that’s all over the news. I don’t get why you can’t leave them be, they’re hunting villains, saving people. Basically a hero.” The man said.

You huffed quietly as you carried on walking.

This was the problem with people, while the majority view you as some sort of heroes because you were wiping out villains, a small percentage of the population saw you as a villain.

You didn’t want to be called either.

You never actually killed the villains you went after, you simply rendered them unconscious, dragging them to the nearest hero or police station.

When you took down a whole organisation you would call the heroes and police to your location when you were done.

You made your way back home, aiming to get some sleep before you went out again, but you only managed to get a couple of hours.

Getting showered, you changed into a different jacket, putting on a disposable face mask and made your way out of your apartment.

You kept to alleyways, lingering in the know that’s where a villain would most likely show up, but you also kept an ear out for any trouble.

“Tracker, put your hands up.”

You paused, slowly turning around to face the hero who was stood at the end of the alley.

You didn’t recognise him, but you did recognise his voice from the radio and when you tried to bring out your claws you noticed that you couldn’t, and you frowned heavily.

“I have no business with heroes.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you became a vigilante.”

His scarf surged forward, and you barely dodged it, but you noticed you could bring out your claws, so his quirk must be to take yours, but there was a limit.

Digging your claws into the building, you hauled yourself up onto the fire escape, running up the stairs.

“Stop!”

He chased after you, his scarf grabbing your leg and tripping you, rolling over you swiped at it, cutting your leg free.

Standing up you turned to look at him and he charged, aiming to hit you and you deflected him with your arm.

You ducked under him, turning around to keep an eye on him.

You had to do something about him if you wanted to get free, but he wasn’t a villain.

He seemed to notice your hesitation to hit him back, and you blocked his attack you kept your hands away from him.

Your claws shimmered, as if they were coated in something, and they didn’t know if the poison you were using to temporarily paralyse the villains was on a weapon or if it was your quirk.

Now he realised it was your quirk, so he had to wait for the right time to erase it.

You grabbed his arm as he lunged for you again, and you threw him behind you, not realising how close you were to the edge.

When you saw him tumbling to the edge you dived forward, grabbing his arm, bracing your hand against the ledge, digging your claws into the side.

With your help, he got back up, and while he was climbing up he erased your quirk, trapping you with his scarf.

You did try for a minute to get out, but even with your quirk you were stuck, your hands were unable to reach, and you sighed heavily, sitting down on the ground.

“Who are you?” You asked.

“You didn’t know who you were fighting but you still rushed to help me?”

You gave a small shrug.

“I know you’re not a villain, a villain wouldn’t have told me to put my hands up. I’ve seen you a few times with the other heroes.”

He studied you, crouching down, resting his arms on his knees.

“Eraser head. I’ve been sent to ask you some questions and bring you down to the station.”

“Ah, Aizawa. I’ve seen you on the news recently talking about your students.”

“You keep up to date with everything, don’t you?”

You nodded your head.

“What’s your quirk?”

You refused to answer this one.

“What’s your name?”

Again, this was a question that you chose to ignore.

“Why’re you taking down villains?”

“Because they took my brother from me.”

Aizawa wasn’t expecting you to answer this question to either, so he was slightly shocked when you did without hesitation.

“Who?”

“Some low level thug, got him from behind and used him as a hostage, hurt him really badly and the heroes tried to help him but he never made it.”

Aizawa slowly nodded his head.

“Is that why you don’t attack heroes?”

“You’re doing the same thing I am, you just have more rules to go about when doing it.”

“You’re a criminal too you know.”

“Am I? I never attacked first, you know that. Which means technically I was acting in self defence, I’ve not actually broken any laws, you know that.”

“You attacked me.”

“I never actually laid a hand on you, therefore I never attacked you.”

Aizawa sighed heavily because he knew you were right, they’d take you down the the station and the most that’ll happen is a reprimand for you using your quirk without the correct forms.

They’d seen the footage of your fights, and you always waited to be attacked first before attacking, instead you settled for taunting the villains into attacking you.

You’d spent a lot of time researching all of this, even if they did decide to take you to court, the trail wouldn’t be a long one, maybe a small amount of time in prison at most.

You sighed softly.

“I’m not a bad person eraser head, I’ve never once hurt somebody who didn’t deserve it. I’ve never raised my hands to a hero or civilian.”

Aizawa placed his hands on his knees, pushing himself up so he could stand.

“You’re using your quirk when you shouldn’t be, if you wanted to take down villains you should’ve become a hero.”

“I tried.”

He looked down at you.

“I tried to be a hero once, before my brother died, but I wasn’t good enough. I have my claws and my poison, that’s it. I didn’t have the speed or the strength or the flashy quirk. I’m just an ordinary person who has a small amount of power. That’s it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have a right to become a vigilante.”

“What would you do if your only family was killed?”

“Leave it to the heroes.”

You scoffed a little bit, looking away from him.

“Yeah, it’s easy to say that until it happens. Then you’re left wondering maybe if you were stronger or faster could you have protected them.”

“You were there?”

You slowly nodded your head.

“I watched my brother die in the arms of a hero.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I should’ve been better…”

Aizawa could tell you had a lot of self hatred, you hated yourself for what happened, you hated the villains for what happened as well.

You didn’t blame the heroes, you knew they had tired their best to help and save your brother, instead you burdened the blame of your brothers death for who knows how long.

In a way he understood, he burdened that same kind of pain, but it didn’t mean he could let you justify your actions.

If you really were a villain yourself you’d be trying to break free, cursing heroes, trying to hurt him, but you weren’t.

Even knowing he could manipulate his scarf and that he would’ve been fine when he fell, you still ran back to help him.

You had all the makings to have been an amazing hero, and yet you took a different route.

He looked at his phone as it buzzed, then he looked back to you.

“Maybe you can get your chance.” He said.

You looked up at him.

“They’re offering an alternative, if you were to pass the heroes exam, you could become a hero.”

“They’re listening?”

He nodded his head, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“Well Tracker? The choice is yours.”

You didn’t reply to him and he sighed heavily, walking back over, crouching in front of you.

“I don’t condone what you’ve been doing, frankly I think it’s stupid as hell. But, you’ve got the makings to be a hero, you always had, that need to protect people, the desire to justice. You’ve just been going about it the wrong way. The hero commission want you to fight with us, help us keep the streets save, and save people like your brother.”

“I’d never pass the heroes exam anyways.”

“If a group of teenagers can pass so can you.”

You looked away from him.

“Why do you care? I’m just another unruly quirk user, right?”

He shrugged a little bit.

“Your choice, but no matter what you choose they’re not going to give up, they will ask you again.”

You sighed heavily, looking at the other heroes that were standing on the roof opposite you, just waiting for you to make a move.

“You can be a hero, in your brother’s name.” He said quietly.

You turned back to the pro hero, slowly nodding your head.

“Okay.”

He stood up, pulling his phone out of his pocket, walking away while he made a phone call before coming back a few minutes later, holding up some cuffs.

“Just a precaution.”

He cuffed you then released you from the scarf you were trapped in.

You didn’t want to stop fighting, so if being chained down by the rules that heroes followed meant that you could keep fighting then that’s what you would do.

You didn’t care what rules you had to follow, you wanted justice for everybody who couldn’t get it themselves, you wanted this world to be a better place

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #my hero academia imagine #mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha imagine #Aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #Aizawa imagine

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sherwees · 6 months

Text

snap a pretty picture of your own!

cw : dubcon but stretching to noncon, getting caught, non consensual groping, exhibitonism, frottage, just overall fcked up SHIT (once again), accidental boners and implied yang huge dick (that should be it?)

p.s : the ending was meant to be more harsh but I couldn't forgive myself for that.

also imagine yangyang in this outfit

Yangyang manspreads on his seat with his Polaroid, swinging his head around looking at the civilians on the subway as he taps his converses on the ground with a rhythm; admiring everything around him with a toothy smile. Everything within the surroundings became blurry as he immersed in your pretty little face, he wanted to snap a quick photo badly but isn't that a crime?

“Sir, sorry for bothering you but do you think you could get up?” A pregnant lady wearing a sweater similar to yours, holding her stomach with a slight arch asks with a slight furrow to her brows. He only nodded and smiled as he got up to stand beside you but something must've brushed a button of his Polaroid because it snapped a photo of the woman's thighs.

She gave a confused look but emitted a small, “It's okay” as the Italian male beside him gave him a scrunch of his nose with a disgusted look. He mumbled a small apology, the guilt weighed his fragile little heart down as he took the film and disposed of it in the nearest garbage and shuffled towards you, you seemed nice. He eyed your pearly white headphones, he could slightly hear the song that you were blasting in his close proximity, not even seeming to notice the nosy male only a few steps behind.

The subway was close to the 7th stop, where it would get unusually crowded because of rush hour. He had about 7 stops more after that and he coincidentally forgot his phone at his friend's house somehow after a week long sleepover so he could only find fun in counting the bleached strands in your hair.

Sooner or later, the train stops abruptly. People rush into the subway, pushing and shoving him closer. It's only then he notices your struggle, you were practically squished into a metal pole. The pressure putting an evident dent on your chest, showing the outline of your bra through the sage sweatshirt you bought at the outlet mall only hours before. Your pussy line(?) was now evident now as you only rubbed against it unintentionally with the turbulence of the train along with a slight burning sensation.

His chest jumps as he looks around in frustration and worry, looking up the subway lights made him nauseous as the blood rushes from the rest of his body but to his lower region. Yangyang notices that your hips slightly rocked against the pole, your lidded eyes looking around until you met eyes with him. Your plush lips were pouty and covered with clear gloss, forehead beamed with sweat.

Your soft fingers scrambled for the pole to keep the pleasuring angle on your sensitive bud once he slightly gyrated his hips into her ass, a soft moan left your lips but it was quickly cut off when the woman in front of you turned for a second.

His grip tightened on the handholds hoping that this was all just a dream and he could wake up in his happy humble home to his cat, Coco. His erection was barely even there yet but his sweatpants became tight like unbearably tight.. He regretted going commando because he under packed his undergarments; his jaw clenched, holding back a grunt as the foreskin at his shaft stretched. He attempted to adjust his growing member but his mushroom tip was now visible as a wide bump, poking out further every second.

He prayed in his soul that nobody would catch eye of this disaster. Of course, you caught eye of the suspicious looking beam he smuggled in his jeans.. Your mouth became agape but it closed with a mischeving smile like something from a brazzers ad that would border an xvideos video. He vigorously shook his head to make sure you understood that he didn't mean any harm and it was just some type of accidental boner but something in his gut yearned for you.

Your fingers reached behind and grabbed his waist band with a slight tear emitting from it, jerking his tip into the curve of your ass with an exasperated gasp coming from you both. If it wasn't so crowded in this subway, there would be major concerns going around but right now, that wasn't the problem in his racing mind.

The bigger (but not biggest) problem was the thin material of your grey shorts, Yangyang could only attempt to step away but you were like a psychic that read his mind with a magic crystal ball. You grabbed his wrist causing him to heave and rush forward along with the speed of the train car, the pole bumping against your ribs, taking a slight hiss from your mouth.

His breath now fanned your jaw as you spat through clenched teeth:

“Move away or I'm screaming some crazy shit.”

“B-but I have to get home—”

“ “B-but” nothing.” His cock prodded at your hole through the damp material of your shorts, your thighs clamp from the rush of pleasure of the sudden stop of the train once more. His adam's apple bobs at your small gyrations, his hands clammy and shaking as his member twitches. His arms then wrap around your waist, his breath and moans hot against your moist neck and if it was silent enough, you could hear the sounds of wet friction between the materials.

“Gosh, fuck.” He grunted as his fingers moved up the cashmere of your sweater to twittle with your erect nipples. You felt the escatsy surge through your body as another round of sweat leaves your skin but the string of your abdomen only became more prominent.

“R’ you gonna cum with me?” He whined into your ear, his thrusts assisting the pressure of the pole against your swollen clit. You could only hum at his desperation, you slightly smiled knowing that you pushed him into a vulnerable headspace. The same male you eyed for hours on end, you might've missed your stop even a few hours ago but it'll circle around.

His hurried thrusts slightly shifted the lining of your shorts enough to wet the front of his sweatpants with your pure slick causing him to straight out moan. The endorphins rushed to his cock, causing his high to come too early for his liking as his seed seeped through the front of his sweats and down his thigh.

Your eyes were snapped shut once your orgasm rocked through your nerves, too immersed in the pleasure to even realize you heard multiple photos snap and the booming of a male's whistle.

“Gosh, that fucking thing is huge!”

Huh?

Your eyes light up, the atmosphere blurry to your vision and humid to your body; your sweatshirt clung onto you. You're met with eyes of middle aged males and females and a random baby. You were quick to fix yourself awkwardly with an honestly fine male staring at your thighs too long for your liking but Yangyang was ruled unlucky.

Your neck craned towards Yangyang but he only attempted to cover indecency with his palms but failing.

Red-faced and about to break but suddenly, a female close to her 40's with fuzzy brown hair jumped from behind him; one hand is full on groping his chest with her coarse hands, raising his shirt to have a peek at his tanned defined abs but another reaching past his waistband, jerking off his leaking cock once more.

He let out a vile cry as he shoved her away into another seat to tug his white undershirt down with a sad scrunch to his perky nose. She slurred some type of vulgar word before she got up and sauntered to another cart with her black oversized shawl dragging behind her drunken steps.

This doesn't stop the clicks and woo's of the bystanders. He collects his Polaroid and scattered films that dropped from the sudden assault of the woman's hands.

It seemed that the attention was off of you as you dashed off and the attention slightly died down towards the flushed pink haired boy a few meters behind you eventually. Your stop was only a minute away, signaled from the little digital banner blinked above you.

You could only lean against the cool metal of the subway until the doors opened, letting in the brisk night air against your face; the moon looked pretty at least. Hurrying towards the parking lot, you noticed the dishelved strands of hair of the boy from earlier.

He seemed unbothered but still bothered of what happened earlier as he sat on the bench only a platform away. His eyes gleam with a lost look and you're lost with him, everything felt spacey and nothing felt real.

But with the worry and shame leaving your soul finding him in a normal condition, you turn around and head for the parking lot; fishing for your keys once more..

You don't miss is the miniscule sound of a click you heard from a distance and a sigh from the lone male.

He finally got the pretty little picture he wanted.

part 2

#nct smut #kpop smut #smut #wayv smut #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #yangyang smut #yangyang x reader #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv scenarios

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prentissluvr · 1 year

Text

eyes open — joel miller

gn!reader , can be read platonic or romantic , sometime between kansas city and jackson in the fall, mild angst maybe hurt/comfort , cw : canon typical violence, infected, swearing, wounds, blood, guns, medical inaccuracy , wc : 2.4K part two here !

initially, the plan was to find a coat, and get the fuck out. you knew you were lucky to have found a mall that’s mostly intact, even better, one that appeared to still have shit inside. of course it’s a small town, and therefore a small building, but you still found what you were looking for. what you weren’t looking for, however, was the party of two you spotted on the level beneath you. the second you saw them, you ducked away and out of sight, eager to avoid anyone.

that was barely a minute ago, and now that you’re nearing the exit on the upper level, you’re sure that you’ve avoided the worst of it. but you hear them first. it doesn’t take an idiot to know that the sounds below you are that of infected, and your first instinct is book it out of that building as fast as possible.

only two seconds later do you pause, cursing the sympathy you still can’t seem to get rid of in this hell of a world. there’s a kid. one of them was a kid. when you started to sneak away, you heard her laugh and it almost made you smile. you try to convince yourself that they can deal with a couple of infected, but when you peer down, it’s not just a couple, and they’re headed right in the direction you last saw the travellers.

“fuck,” you whisper. “i can’t believe myself.”

you scoff, but nonetheless pull out your gun and find the nearest broken escalator so quietly you swear you can hear your own heartbeat.

the idea that you’re purposefully moving towards a group of infected is actually insane, maybe just flat out suicidal, but you don’t want to think of what could happen to the girl of her and the man she’s with get when they are caught by surprise. from thorough inspection of the outside of the building, you know that the only unblocked exit is up where you were, past the infected.

once you’re convinced you’ll actually be able to shoot a decent amount of the infected and still make a break for the nearest exit, you take a deep breath, and aim.

at the first shot of your gun, chaos ensues. the infected start screeching, turning in your direction. but they’re far enough away, so you keep shooting, taking down three before turning and running. but there are more and now you’re really cursing yourself, because they’re blocking the way up the stairs.

your savior comes in the form of more gunshots, ones that don’t come from you. the last two who you initially chased fall, and another is deterred by your own shots. there’s only one left, one you plan to take down yourself. but your savior becomes an enemy when a searing pain rips through your side. a bullet skims your skin and plants itself in the side of the infected. moments later it’s fallen and you hear the gruff voice of a man telling you to put away your gun, or he’ll shoot.

you do as he says, turning to find him and the girl rapidly approaching.

“there could be more,” is all he says, walking past you and towards the stairs.

“right,” you grunt, pushing your hand up against the gash bleeding through your shirt and jacket. you do your best to limp after the two, and you almost run into the girl when the man suddenly stops.

he nods his chin in the direction of the coat you haphazardly stuffed into your bag. “where’d you get that?”

“up my ass,” is all you say, not happy about the way his bullet cut you up.

“i won’t ask again,” he warns. you just scoff.

“you know, i came down here and threw myself at a bunch of infected so you wouldn’t be trapped in here. all i get are threats?”

clearly, he doesn’t care about anything you could say. “i probably saved your life more than you did mine. now tell me where you got the coat.”

“i’ll tell you if you help me get the hell out of this town, i don’t know, since i’m gonna have a bit of trouble travelling thanks to someone’s bullet,” you bargain.

“no.”

you roll your eyes. “fine. get me somewhere to sleep tonight, make sure i don’t die within the first night of getting this stupid ass gash, and i’ll tell you where you can find the coats. even better, i’ll point you to some unfortunate person’s stash of actual good shit. i took as much as i could but there’s still more. there’s ammo, food, even some first aid shit.”

for the first time, the girl speaks up. “let’s just help them. we wouldn’t have known about the infected as soon as we had if they hadn’t shot up a few of them first.” you thank her in your head for taking your side.

“fine. where’re the coats?”

“up there, the store still has a few intact,” you inform. the two of them arrive at the top of the stairs far faster than you do, your feet starting to drag; the strain of your wound plus the stairs feel a little bit like hell.

once you reach the top, nearly wheezing, the man orders you to give your pack to the kid.

“why, so she can run away with my shit?” you bite.

“i wouldn’t do that!” she argues.

he pays no attention to her, only explaining in short words, “you’re moving too slow and there could be more infected.”

“well, i wonder why that is,” you grunt.

he huffs in annoyance at your snarky attitude, but nonetheless tells you he’s going to help you walk faster. despite feeling far more than miffed by the man, you allow him to wrap his arm around your waist and you hold onto his shoulder for extra support. moving is still slow, but you reach the store faster than you otherwise would have. the girl drops your pack on the ground in order to search for something to fit her or the man, coming up empty handed for him, but finding a padded coat for herself.

you clench your jaw against the pain in your side before speaking. “i think there’s a men’s boutique a few stores down.”

once there, the girl begins searching again, and you hate to find yourself leaning further and further into the man’s support. luckily, it doesn’t take long forher to find a fleece lined, brown jacket to fit his broad frame. you’re starting to feel a little bit out of it, and he can’t help but notice the way that your breathing is getting labored and your face seems paler than he thought it was before.

“we should get you bandaged up now,” he says, realizing your wound is probably worse than you’ve been letting on.

“sure,” you grunt. but you don’t even get the chance to sit down before you hear noises coming from the lower level. “nevermind,” you sigh. “there’s an exit that way.” you point in the direction you came with your chin.

the young girl gathers up all of the belongings she set down, sticking close to the other side of her companion. as the three of you make your way out of the building, you do your best to stay steady on your feet, not eager to even chance upon finding out what else was in there, be it infected or other people. you make it out of the building and turn down the first alleyway you find to cut into a different street.

with both the support of the gruff man at your side and the adrenaline coursing through you, you’re able to keep up a decent pace. but as the blood loss catches up to you, your steps falter and you trip over your own feet. with the arm firmly wrapped around your waist, the man pulls you even closer into him, nearly dragging you along at this point.

stopping at a corner to breathe and check the safety of a new street, his deep voice reaches your ears.

“just stay awake,” he orders.

“it’s not that bad,” you bite back through gritted teeth.

it seems he can’t care to argue further, just keeping a firm grip on his gun and a watchful eye on the girl as you continue to move away from the mall.

finally, he deems a fairly intact house on the edge of the town safe enough to do a sweep-through for safety. you stumble inside and he leaves you leaning against the wall with the girl to search the house. the second he’s out the door, the younger turns to you to strike up conversation.

“you kinda saved us, so i’m gonna hope that telling you my name isn’t gonna get me killed?”

“definitely not.”

“great.” she even smiles at you. “i’m ellie! the old grump is joel. sorry he shot you.”

you wish you had more energy to talk to her; she seems funny. but you have to keep your answers short, because you’d rather that someone so young not have to know just how much pain you're in. so you tell her your name in a curt tone, but make sure to tell her it’s not your fault. what you’d add if you could speak more would be that it’s his fault, but even him you understand, as he was just doing what he needed to protect her.

she doesn’t speak much more, probably getting the memo that you aren’t in the best position for conversation right now. even so, you still notice the way that every minute or so, she says something or asks a question, just to be sure you’re conscious enough.

ellie’s spirit is nice, but it’s a relief when the man, joel, you remember, reappears. he helps you to lie on the floor, then slips your coat under your head before gathering up supplies from your pack.

“gonna pull up your shirt, just a little, ‘k?” he’s more than respectful, almost gentle in contrast with his words that are rough more often than not.

you just nod, letting him remove your hands from your wound and lifting your shirt just enough for him to see the gash in your side. luckily, it’s stopped bleeding so much due to the pressure you had been doing your best to apply, but he was right; it was definitely worse than what you had been letting on at first.

“why didn’t you say anything when you had the chance?” he asks, voice harsh, insinuating that you should have stopped to care for yourself before or while ellie was searching for coats.

“well you didn’t seem particularly concerned with my well being,” you say through gritted teeth. he just huffs, knowing that you’re right, but you’re also an idiot for letting your this type of wound stay untended for so long.

“this needs stitches,” he frowns. a few snarky retorts stored in your mind beg to be used on him, but you opt to just nod, knowing you’ll need your strength. “you should bite on this.” he grabs his new jacket, bringing the sleeve to your face. you lift your hands up, placing the fabric between your teeth. it’s not comfortable, but when the first wave of pain comes from the alcohol poured on the open wound, you’re grateful to bite into the fabric rather than your own tongue.

before joel can begin the stitches in your side, you grab his wrist and pull the fabric out of your mouth with your other hand. you gasp before speaking, “does this kid have to stay?” you don’t want her to have to watch this.

it seems he agrees, because he immediately tells her to find a different room to stay in. but she’s stubborn, insisting she can stay. joel argues back when you don’t have the energy to, but she doesn’t have any of it, so he just shifts his attention back to you. you just place the sleeve back in your mouth as he sterilizes the needle and moves your clothing around a bit more.

his touch is gentle, but it does nothing to lessen the pain of the needle pushing through your flesh. you react viscerally, your hands clutching his shoulder and forearm, a muffled yelp escaping your lips.

“jus’ a few stitches,” he says steadily. “ellie, come over here grab their hand, it’s gettin’ in the way.” ellie does as she’s told, scrambling from her previous spot to sit right by you and take the hand that had latched onto joel’s arm. in the back of your mind, you feel bad for squeezing the young girl’s hand so hard, but you can’t help it.

joel is right; it’s only a few stitches, but by the time he’s done you’re barely conscious. he fixes your clothing to cover your torso once again, then reaches up to softly pull the fabric from your mouth. you let out a dry groan when he does so.

“eyes open,” he commands as he grabs water. he helps you drink, one hand holding his flask, the other holding up the back of your head. once you’ve finished drinking he removes his hands from you and begins to pack everything he used back into your bag, instructing ellie to keep you awake while he does so.

“can’t i just sleep?” you grumble out.

“there’s a mattress upstairs, we’ll sleep up there,” he says sternly. you only hum in response, and there’s no need for ellie to keep you awake, as joel’s finished with the bags. she grabs them, leaving joel to hoist you into his arms. the movement pulls a pained groan out of your lips. and yet, the warmth of his body is comforting and you wish you had the energy to hate it, but your own body betrays you as your head sinks into his shoulder. the added pressure causes him to look down at you. he tells you to open your eyes when he finds them to be closed. but it’s almost like you can’t hear him, the only reaction he gets is a furrow of eyebrows in reaction to the pain you likely feel as he starts up the stairs. “alright,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else as your features finally relax and you fall into unconsciousness. at least now you’re all safe, so he can’t say it’s the worst thing to have you asleep in his arms.

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harmonictechnicality · 2 years

Text

After their weekly performance at The Hideout, Eddie and his bandmates decide to hit up the County Fair.

He’s up for anything until they get to the fourth room of the funhouse. It’s a small, pitch-black space with flickering lights. The mirrors reveal reflections that are just blurred figures. If he squints, Eddie can see himself silhouetted by waves of dark hues.

It all becomes disorienting very fast. He’s spinning in circles, searching for his friends that are clearly not there anymore. The lights give him a killer headache and the ambience of circus music and screaming children is sending him into sensory overload. So instead of doing the Normal Person Thing of exiting the room, he huddles into the nearest corner. Trapped in his foggy mind.

Eddie has been muttering ‘shit shit goddamnit’ to himself for a few minutes now, when someone responds.

“You okay?” It’s a lower voice. He’s not entirely sure where it’s coming from either - maybe somewhere in the shadowy room or on the other side of the geometric mirror wall beside him.

“Um.” Eddie sniffles, unaware that he’d been crying. “Just overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah - where are you?”

“Flickering lights room.”

Footsteps get a little closer, stopping a few feet away. Eddie looks up but can’t see any details besides lightly colored clothes. The guy bends down next to Eddie and he is able to observe a few more features: young. Dark eyes. Definitely lots of hair.

“Mind if I join you down here?” The guy asks, voice subdued but speaking clearly over the noisy music.

Eddie shakes his head no, instantly realizing they probably can’t see his reaction. “I don’t mind.”

The two of them sit quietly in this bizarre space, but it’s better than being alone. They wait for a group of rowdy teenagers to pass before speaking to one another.

“Did you hear about that explosion over the summer - in Hawkins?”

“At the mall?” Of course Eddie heard about it. The whole thing was all over the news a few months ago. Lots of casualties.

“Yeah.” The guy pauses, clears his throat. “I was there that night.”

“I thought nobody survived?”

“Got out before everything…” his voice trails off, stuck in an unwanted memory. “Anyways, fireworks and loud crashing sounds really fuck me up these days.”

Eddie hums in response. There’s a lot of unspoken trauma from this kind stranger and a lot of unspoken irrational fears from Eddie. Both perspectives somehow able to connect in this moment. Melding into a chain on the floor of this sketchy carnival attraction.

There’s a cymbal crash in the blaring speakers above them. Both of them swearing ‘shit’ in unison.

“It appears that loud crashing sounds fuck me up too.” Eddie jokes nervously.

There’s enough dim lighting for Eddie to see the guy nod, laughing softly. “You live in Hawkins?”

“Unfortunately. You?”

“Yup.”

“Think we know each other?”

“It’s a small town.” The guy shifts his weight. Eddie watches him scoot closer, as if he’s trying to get a better look at Eddie’s face. “Is this okay?”

He’s clamors towards Eddie slowly, hovering a few inches away. Waiting for Eddie to say something. Anything.

“Uh huh.” Which is barely audible, but the guy moves in to examine Eddie.

As the stranger looks him up and down, Eddie also tries to inspect his face - getting more than a little distracted by this guy’s fucking cologne. He smells like amber incense. He smells rich.

There’s definitely familiarity in his movements. In his voice. In his smile.

There’s also tension between them now. The guy is almost over top of Eddie and no longer inspecting his facial features. Eyes dropping to Eddie’s lips. Staying there.

“Still hard to see you,” Eddie’s voice goes dry. Throat muscles tensing up at this change in atmosphere.

“Yeah.” The air between them heating up from their words. “I can see enough to know you’re cute though.”

The stranger lifts his finger into Eddie’s hair and twirls one strand around playfully. Eddie goes breathy at the contact. He’s not usually this shy, but it’s not everyday he gets seduced at a local fair either.

“Maybe it’s better if we don’t know each other.” Eddie finally leans in close enough to see the stranger has a few freckles scattered on his cheeks. He finds the courage to touch one of the freckles, skating his hand down the guy’s neck. “Maybe we can make a brief, but worthwhile memory out of our shitty circumstances.”

“Close your eyes,” the stranger whispers.

His breath is so warm and thick, surrounding Eddie’s mouth. Their lips graze for a fleeting second before someone starts yelling in the next room over.

“Steve!” The high-pitched voice yells again.

“Damnit.” He sighs deeply into the thin space between them. “It was really nice to meet you.” He squeezes Eddie’s hand before standing up. Swiftly exiting out of a nearby corridor.

“Steve, come on!” They call out again.

“Coming!” He shouts back.

And that’s when Eddie grasps the reality of what almost happened. Pastel clothes. Perfect hair. Rich boy cologne.

Eddie Munson almost kissed Steve Harrington in a funhouse full of mirrors.

The Steve Harrington.

None of the mirrors in this room are broken, but damn - it sure as hell feels like his world has been shattered into tiny shards of glass.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #au where they meet in the fall of 1985

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joemothersfavoritechild · 7 months

Text

“across the street” pt. 3

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-3.2k-ish words

-no trauma au

an: sorry, i had a lot going on my life lol. not sure why this one took so long for me to finish, but here it is in all it’s corny glory. also, if it’s bad pls don’t tell me. idk how to do this lmao

summary: you bump into someone at the mall & go on a date with your hot neighbor

part two is here!

————————————————————————————

Clothes covered your bedroom floor and you continued adding to the pile. Your date was today. In a few hours, more specifically. Nothing seemed right, lunch is more casual than dinner but you don’t want to be too casual. A dress is probably too much, but leggings are not enough. You grumbled to yourself, Mike probably wasn’t worried about his outfit. He’d probably look good in anything, you decided.

You dropped another hanger on your bed, eyeing the growing pile. How could nothing be appropriate? You had a surplus of clothes, probably too many. How could one guy make you nervous to the point where you hated all of your clothes? Was that normal? Even your favorite dress was hideous to you right now.

Fuck this, you thought. If nothing feels right, you were just going to buy something that did. You were a responsible adult with a savings account, one outfit wouldn’t doom your finances. You reorganized your closet, swiftly taking your phone out to search for the nearest mall.

A mall was a good choice, you thought as you pulled into a parking spot. And being a Tuesday, it wouldn’t be packed full of teenagers. You stepped out of your car, locking it behind you, and walked towards the entrance.

As you walked through the doors, you noticed a map on the wall. Perfect, you can find something that’ll work. There are tons of stores, so you begin your shopping spree.

You spend a while browsing, more window shopping than anything. Clothes at the mall were kind of expensive, making you grimace at the price tags around you. Eventually, you found a small shop with decent prices. You settled on a nice shirt that you found, 22.99. Not too bad, and you could wear a pair of jeans that you had at home. As you checked out with the cashier in front of you, you glanced at the time on your phone. You glanced out of the shop, reading the sign that points to the food court.

You took the bag from the cashier, telling her to have a good day as you walked out of the store. You followed the sign, deciding to grab a treat on your way out. You deserved it.

The food court was massive and surprisingly empty. There was probably a total of ten people scattered around the building. Your eyes scanned the booths, trying to decide on which to stop at. Your eyes caught a familiar figure, doing a double take and stopping in place. Your heart pounded.

It was Mike, in his security uniform. He was surveying the room, hands on his hips. You inspected his face, noticing the serious expression on it. You knew he was a security guard, but seeing him in action was a completely different thing. It was hot.

As if he can sense your presence, you’re caught in his gaze. He’s smirking at you now. Your cheeks heat up, and you look away in embarrassment.

You look back up at him. He’s staring, looking you up and down. He makes eye contact with you again.

Fuck.

Before you can make a run for it, he’s walking towards you. His hands rest on his security belt as he struts towards you. You could make an exit, leave before he got close enough, and claim that you didn’t see him.

But he was fast, cutting through the middle of the food court, he stood in front of you in less than a minute.

“You miss me or something?” He asked. You internally rolled your eyes at his sudden confidence.

“You work here?” You ask, ignoring his question.

“I told you I worked at the mall.”

“I didn’t know it was this mall.”

“What other malls are there?” He asked sarcastically.

“You tell me.” You said, matching his banter.

He tried to hide a smile, but you could see it.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks.

“I was just picking up a shirt. I thought I’d grab a snack.” You answered, and he nodded.

“You like ice cream?”

You thought about it for a second, ice cream sounded good.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Follow me.” He said, leading you through the food court.

He stopped in front of a little shop, the two of you standing side by side. The place was cute, covered in rainbows and pictures of ice cream. He waved at the worker there.

“Your usual, right?” The girl asked.

“Two please.” He corrected.

You watched as she filled two cups with a swirl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. She placed them on the counter in front of you, inputting something into the register.

“Let me get it.” You say, reaching for your wallet. His hand on your arm stops you.

“I’ve got it.” He says, taking his wallet out of his pocket. It’s small, a simple dark brown leather. Very Mike.

He pays for the ice cream and grabs the cups from the counter. You grab the spoons and some napkins.

“C’mon.” He says, guiding you to a table nearby.

He takes a seat, and you sit in front of him. He pushes your cup towards you and grabs a spoon from your hand. His fingers touch yours for a moment too long.

“Thank you.” You say, scooping some of your ice cream into your mouth. It’s refreshing. The flavors are classic, but not too overpowering and the texture was perfect. Mike knew his ice cream.

“Of course.” He says, copying your movement. He sucks on the spoon for a moment, still making eye contact with you.

You have to look away, your mind putting torturous thoughts in your head. Maybe you were ovulating, or that’s what you told yourself.

His voice brought your eyes back to him. You didn’t hear a word he said.

“What?” You asked, noticing him laughing at you again.

“I asked, do you like it?”

“Oh,” You looked down at your ice cream. “Oh, yeah. It’s good, you didn’t have to buy it though.”

He looked at you in a way that you couldn’t describe, narrowing his eyes. You hid a smile as you watched him.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He said smiling, shrugging and looking away from you.

You kept your eyes on him, pondering conversation topics.

“Long day?” You asked.

“Nah, it’s been okay. I had to kick out some college kids earlier though.”

“No way.�� You said in a skeptical voice.

“It’s true, they kept connecting to the speakers and playing weird shit. Fart noises, the whole nine yards.”

“Oh my god.” You said, laughing as you went for another scoop of your treat.

“Living the dream.” He said, pulling another laugh from you.

“You’re funny.”

“I try.”

You smiled at him again despite yourself. God, he was charming. In a “this is just who I am” kind of way. Your hangout went on for at least another fifteen minutes, both of you eating and smiling.

Talking to Mike was easy, he listened to you. And not like a nodding along to appease, like an “I remember every little detail about what you said” kind of way. He asked questions and added things to the conversation. He laughed along to your jokes and widened his eyes when you deemed it appropriate.

Eventually, though, he was torn away from you by the sharp crackle of his walkie-talkie. He eased up from his seat slowly, as though he was being pulled through molasses.

“I’ll see you soon,” He said.

“You will.”

As you watched him walk away, he turned and looked at you again. You smiled and gave him a small wave. His eyes lit up, and he held in a small laugh as he nodded to you.

You sighed as he was out of view.

———————————————————————————

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, desperately looking at yourself. You had already changed, put a little makeup on, and you were attempting to make something of your hair. It seemed to have a mind of its own.

You decided to put it up, choosing a style that suited your face. As you leaned back to glance over yourself, you smiled. You looked nice.

You grabbed your phone, checking the time. You had about five minutes until Mike was supposed to be at your door. You smiled, thanking the universe for your timeliness.

You added a few spritzes of perfume to your ankles, thanking the internet for this piece of your routine. You froze as you heard a knock on the door, your breathing suddenly picked up.

You grabbed your phone, pocketing it as you walked into the living room. You fast walked to the door, looking through the peephole. Mike stood there, staring at his feet while holding a little bouquet. Your heart softened as you opened up the door.

He smiled at you.

“Hi.” You said, taking the flowers from his outstretched hands.

“Hi. Um, I hope these aren’t too much. A guy was selling them on the street, it just made me think of you.”

“No, not too much at all. Thank you, Mike. They’re pretty” You replied, looking at the small flowers.

He had gotten you a bunch of orange carnations, tied together with a green ribbon. Even if it was last minute, the gesture wasn’t lost on you.

“You’re pretty.” He muttered immediately.

When you looked back up at him he had a sheepish grin on his face, almost embarrassed at the words that slipped through his lips.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile, looking back at the flowers in your hands.

“Want to come in for a second? So I can put them in some water?” You asked, opening the door wider at the suggestion.

He nodded, following you inside. He tailed you as you went into the kitchen. You set the flowers on the island when you got close enough.

Vases were not something that you prioritized in your home, so you settled on an old mason jar that you found. As you filled the glass up, you could hear Mike fiddling with the flowers behind you. He met you at the sink, grabbing the jar from you and placing the flowers inside of it. He arranged them in a neater shape, noticing your gaze.

“It’s not a gift if you do all the work.” He stated, placing them behind the sink.

You paused, watching him. He was right, of course, but most people didn’t think that way. Most people gave you the flowers and called it a day, but that wasn’t Mike. Mike was caring, you noticed. Whether it was with you and flowers, or with his sister and the tender way he took care of her. He was a caring man, and you liked it. It was good for you.

“They look good.” You settled on, trying to push the fuzzy feeling to the back of your mind. You suddenly noticed his outfit. He was now in black pants and a grey button-down shirt.

“No uniform? You look nice.” You asked.

“Oh,” He replied, looking down as if he had just noticed. “I brought an extra pair of clothes to work.”

You smiled, god how was he so nice? He got you flowers and went out of his way to look good for you, and this was all after a few days of knowing you.

“You ready to go?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m starving.” You answered, following him back to the front of the house. You grabbed your bag and locked the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant was a comfortable silence, the only sound being the quiet radio. His car was on the older side, but it was nice nonetheless. It was clean and smelled nice. Bare minimum, but it was still impressive.

You made small talk on the way.

“How’s work so far? You have to kick any other crazy people out?”

“Eh, it’s fine. It’s funny you say that because there was a crazy lady there today.”

“Oh, yeah?” You asked, suddenly curious.

“Yeah, she was just standing there in the middle of the food court. Totally staring at me.” He continued, eyes wide open as he glanced at you.

“What’d you do?”

“I bought her ice cream.” He said, smiling at the road.

You narrowed your eyes at him, finally understanding.

“That’s just mean.” You said, feigning annoyance.

“No, you don’t understand. Two very separate occasions.” He said as he pulled into a parking spot.

He brought you to a cafe, you realized. It was a small place, but it was beautiful. The inside was very homey, decorated with couches and rugs. The lighting was yellow, really bringing the space together.

He brought you up to the counter, which had plants placed on the corners of the granite. You smiled at him while he ordered, noticing his haste. He’d memorized his order, it was cute.

You ordered your food and drink after him, glancing at the menu as you spoke.

“Oh, and one of those brownies,” Mike added as he took his wallet out of his pocket. Your eyes widened, very curious about this brownie. You had a soft spot for sweets.

The worker nodded and then rang them up. As you walked with Mike to a couch in the corner, you spoke up.

“Let me send you my half, please.” You said, talking about the money.

“No way.” He laughed, sitting next to you on the plush loveseat.

“It’s common knowledge that the person who asks the other out pays.”

“Must not be very common, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He teased, looking at you mischievously. You shook your head at him.

“You’re annoying.”

“I was funny earlier.” He continued his teasing.

“That was earlier.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

He tried and failed to hold in his laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Soon enough, your food came. It was really good. Mike’s was also good, you assumed, as he very loudly groaned at his first bite.

“Let me try it, if it’s so amazing.” You suggested, holding your fork towards his meal.

“Go for it, you won’t be disappointed.” He said, pushing his plate towards you. You slowly took a bite of his food, trying to hide your enjoyment.

It was good, though you would think it’d be awful. He had gotten some weird salad, one with grilled chicken, apple slices, and a pomegranate vinaigrette. You chewed slowly, trying to put a facade of disgust on. He didn’t fall for it.

“Ah, you like it. I can tell.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, stubbornly.

Your date went really well, eating and talking about yourselves. That’s what dates were for, so you went all out. The two of you talked about your plans for the future, what you wanted out of life, and your equally boring and unfulfilling jobs. Eventually, though, the topics landed on parents.

“So your parents won’t babysit Abby, ever?” You asked with raised eyebrows. He sipped on his coffee.

“Nope. We haven’t spoken since I moved out and took her with me.”

“I’m so sorry, Mike.” You said emphatically, you knew what shitty parents were like.

“Don’t be, they sucked. Were yours any better?”

“Not really. We’ve just never really gotten along.” You said with a shrug. He nodded in understanding.

“Seems like we’re in the same boat.” He said, nursing his coffee again.

“Tell me a little more about Abby.” You changed the subject, desperate to know something about the girl you were going to be babysitting during the weekends. Mike’s eyes lit up.

He told you that her favorite color was purple. She loved drawing, puppies, and any form of glitter. She was very girly and always wanted to give him makeovers. She liked to build forts and loved spaghetti and pizza.

Hearing more about Abby made you adore her even more. You loved kids and they always seemed to gravitate towards you. It seemed like babysitting would be fun, especially since you had some tips on what she liked.

Your date had to come to an end at some point, although you were both hesitant to depart from the bubble you had created.

Mike still had to work for the rest of the afternoon, and no matter how many times he told you that they didn’t care, you didn’t want to get him in trouble. He drove you back home, holding your hand in his the whole time.

When you stopped in front of your house he stopped you from opening the car door.

“Wait.” He mumbled, jumping out of the car and running to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, holding out your hand to help you out.

“How chivalrous.” You commented and you stepped out of the vehicle.

“You know me.” He said, shutting the car behind you. He followed you onto the sidewalk in front of your house, walking you towards it.

“This is me.” You said sarcastically as you walked to the front door. He smiled at your words, letting out a little chuckle.

He followed you to your front steps, just looking at you. You returned his gaze, suddenly warm with the tension that you felt. You looked at him curiously, as he glanced at your lips. You understood his intentions.

“Can I?” He asked, getting closer to you.

“Please.” You whispered.

He pulled you close by your hips, your fronts touching. You giggled at the quick movement, cut off by his lips on yours. You closed your eyes on instinct. His lips were soft and warm, all sweetness.

After a few moments of gentle kissing, you pulled away from him smiling. He shared your sentiments, smiling at you as he pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

You had wanted this so bad. And the real thing was even better than you had imagined, it made you want more. You crushed your lips back onto his, eagerly this time. He met your pace with vigor, picking up on the lust behind your actions.

He pushed you up against the door with his hands at your waist. You hungrily pulled him closer by his hair. He groaned into your mouth, allowing your tongue in. You sighed as he brought you impossibly closer.

God, he tasted good, like the brownie you shared earlier, and something else that was distinctively him. His hands eased under your shirt, kneading into the skin of your stomach.

He spread your legs apart with his knees, caging you in a little bit more. You moaned shamelessly when he pressed it up against the crotch of your jeans. He breathed it in like a breath of fresh air.

The sound of a front door shutting brought you both back into the present. He detached his lips from yours, drawing deep breaths. You felt his warm breath on your face.

His glossy eyes looked down on you as he licked his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, both of you coming down from the high of making out on your doorstep.

You started smiling at the situation, pulling one out of him as well. He pecked your lips again as if he couldn’t bear to be away from them. You fought against pulling him back to you. You suddenly remembered his words from the day before.

“On the first date? I thought you wanted to take it slow.” You remarked, he chuckled.

“I just needed to taste you.” He said, kissing your lips again. Your eyes closed involuntarily.

“And it’s basically our second date, so it cancels out.” He murmured as he pulled away.

————————————————————————————

**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

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