why can you not get groceries at a mall in america

what if you want to get milk and a t-shirt

Nia just needed a friend to do a hard mall trip. Trying out dresses. For a formal dance. And hey, maybe Lena and Kara are mad at each other but... She just needs Lena okay?

When Lena receives a call from an unknown number, she almost ignores it. But just enough people spread her phone number that she answers it on the off chance it might be someone who needs her.

“Lena Luthor, how can I help you?”

“Lena, please don’t hang up.”

The voice is familiar, but Lena can’t place it until the voice continues.

“It’s Nia. Nia Nal? And I know--” Lena almost hangs up right then-- not because it’s Nia, but because Nia treads dangerously close to a subject Lena is dead set on avoiding. Almost. “I know you have no reason to take my call, but… I need your help.”

Lena almost hangs up. She doesn’t.

“What do you need?”

---

The crisis, Lena learns, is that Nia has been given the assignment of her life covering the Golden Globes ceremony being hosted in downtown National City, but has nothing even remotely appropriate to wear. The mundanity of it all is so far from what Lena expects that it’s long moments before the words fully register.

“Uh, Lena…?”

“I’m here,” Lena says quickly, clearing her throat. She leans forward in her chair, rattling off an address. “Meet me there tomorrow at 11am.”

The next day, a few minutes after eleven, Nia walks up to Lena outside of Sylvie with hesitation all over her face. “Lena?”

Lena tucks her phone away and turns towards Nia with a professional but bright grin. “Nia, you made it.”

“Uhm, yeah actually… I kinda thought I’d gotten lost…”

Lena looks at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Lena, I can’t afford anything on this boulevard, are you crazy??”

Oh.

“You’re not paying,” Lena says simply.

Wide eyes blink at her in shock. “What? No! No, Lena, I can’t ask you to do that--”

“I’m offering.”

“Look, I was thinking we could just go to the mall--”

“The mall.”

Nia quails under Lena’s judgement, and Lena softens.

“Nia, you are about to be on the red carpet, covering an event that could catapult your career into the stratosphere. I think that warrants something a little more than what a department store can offer.”

“But…” Nia continues to protest, but uncertainty colors her features, and Lena knows she’s slipped under her guard. Carefully, Lena places a hand on Nia’s wrist.

“I won’t force you to accept what I’m offering,” she says gently. “But calling a Luthor for help means calling for a Luthor solution-- and nothing says Luthor more than shopping at the best boutique in town.”

Nia nods, but she ducks her chin with a swallow. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t want you to think that’s why I called, you know?” Nia expels a sigh, working a harried hand through her hair. “It’s just that Kara was supposed to come with me for moral support, but she’s had to cancel four times and the ceremony is in three days and if Andrea hears one more time that I don’t have a dress, she’s going to kill me…”

“Nia,” Lena says softly. Nia stops, and meets Lena’s gaze with a hesitant one of her own. “I would never think you were calling for a hand out. I’m offering.” Nia still looks uncertain, but Lena holds her gaze. “You asked for help… so let me help.”

Nia considers her words, studying Lena carefully. Finally, she wraps her arms around herself with a steadying sigh. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

Nia follows a few paces behind as Lena turns and approaches the door to the shop, lingering to let Lena be the one to press the buzzer to be allowed in. But as they near, the door opens for them, ready and waiting to admit them.

Luthors don’t use buzzers.

“Welcome to Sylvie.” A pair of well groomed attendants relieve them of their purses, exchanging their bags for a couple flutes of champagne offered by a third.

“Thank you,” Lena replies easily, well versed in the practice. Nia fumbles a step behind, her movements stiff and uncertain. Instead of moving directly into the belly of the store as she usually did, Lena lingers, allowing Nia the chance to take in the shop for the first time. The showroom looks much like any other, as could be glimpsed through the windows, styled with clean lines and immaculately dressed mannequins. The true Sylvie experience, however, happens further in, beyond the curtains that separate the dressing rooms from the rest of the store.

“If you’ll follow me, ladies, I’ll show you to your dressing room.”

Lena wonders what Nia expected as they approached one of the curtained off areas. Perhaps a cramped alcove like the hollywood thrift stores shown in coming-of-age films, where your elbows knocked the walls as you changed and you’d be lucky to find a stool to put your own clothes. Certainly it isn’t the plush, spacious room that awaits them, if Nia’s wide eyes are anything to go by.

Charnelle waits for them at the curtain. “Welcome, ladies,” she greets, parting the curtain so that Lena and Nia can slip inside. “Lena, lovely to see you again.”

“And you,” Lena returns.

“I’m Charnelle,” she introduces herself to Nia. “Wonderful to meet you. I’ll be assisting the two of you today.”

“Thankyousomuch,” Nia says in a rush, her shoulders tight as she shakes Charnelle’s offered hand.

Charnelle allows the curtains to close behind them, isolating them in their own little pocket of divine luxury. Lena settles herself on the central chaise lounge, folding her legs elegantly before her. Nia perches on the edge beside her, her gaze flicking to the small boudoir in one corner and another curtain that shields the actual changing area. Inside there, Lena knows Nia will find a plush bench to sit on as she undresses, and gold hangers to hold her clothes while she tries on various gowns. It’s designed to be beyond comfortable, a place where one could spend hours-- and lots and lots of money.

“So, what do you have for us today, Lena? Another benefit gala to dazzle?”

“Actually,” Lena replies, “Miss Nal here is covering the Golden Globes this week for CatCo Worldwide.”

“How exciting!” Charnelle rounds on Nia. “And what are you looking for in your gown?”

Caught with a mouthful of champagne, Nia freezes, then swallows audibly. “Um…” she coughs out. “Something nice? I probably shouldn’t be outdressing the stars or anything, so nothing too crazy?” She shrugs. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“Charnelle,” Lena intercedes, “could you bring us some formal options in black, maroon, or blue? Floor length, of course.”

Charnelle nods, beaming. “Absolutely.” She gives Nia a wink. “She has your colors nailed, honey. What are your measurements?”

Nia stares at them both. “Uh. A six, usually?”

“They’ll need your measurements to ensure a proper fit,” Lena delivers gently. “Do you mind if Charnelle--?”

“I’m trans!” Nia blurts, her chinks coloring a solid ear-to-ear pink. “Sorry,” she adds quietly. “But-- yeah. Just so you know.”

Lena stares, surprised more by the outburst than its content, but Charnelle takes it in stride. “So am I, baby girl,” she responds smoothly. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have a dress that fits.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nia finally, finally relaxes. She offers a shaky grin. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Charnelle gives Nia’s wrist a squeeze on her way to the boudoir to pull a tape measure from the top drawer. While she’s busy, Lena catches Nia’s eye and lifts her glass in a silent cheers of support. Nia rewards her with a small smile, before Charnelle returns and makes quick work of measuring Nia’s bust, waist and hips.

“All right!” Charnelle chirps, wrapping up her tape. “I’ll be right back with some options. You two stay here and get comfortable, all right? I’ll be right back.”

She disappears, and Nia all but collapses onto the chaise next to Lena. “I can’t believe I did that,” she groans.

Lena pats her on the knee. “You’re all right. Sylvie only gets my business because they know the value of discretion.”

“Yeah.” Nia lifts her head with a hum, surveying the dressing room once more. “This is nice. Thank you for talking me into it.”

Lena smirks. “Just wait.”

As if on cue, the curtains part to admit not Charnelle, but the woman who’d offered them their drinks. This time, her tray holds an array of small finger sandwiches. “Refreshments?”

“Oh, wow!” Nia exclaims, quickly helping herself to three. “Okay, yeah. I could get used to this.”

Lena grins, snaring a cucumber sandwich for herself. “Thank you. And another round, if you could,” she adds, seeing Nia’s empty glass.

The woman nods. “Of course.”

When she has disappeared again, the dressing room fills with quiet, and Lena realizes that she doesn’t have a clue what to say. She’s gone shopping with her mother, and with Andrea, and in both cases the conversation flowed easily, for better or for worse. But she’s never been shopping with a girl several years her junior, and never one in the middle of Lena’s biggest heartbreak.

“It happened the last time I went shopping for a dress too,” Nia says, breaking the silence. “The anxiety about… you know. I guess something about formal wear brings out the worst of it.”

Unsure of how to respond, Lena looks at her. “When was the last time?”

Nia sighs. “Prom. I’d transitioned by then, and most people were used to me, but I didn’t have a date, and part of me just internalized it as a fixture of me not being girly enough, and not, you know, the fact I didn’t know how to talk to boys, let alone date them. I didn’t even know if it was worth it to go at all, and I just-- started crying, right there in the dress shop.”

“What happened then?” Lena asks gently.

Nia smiles fondly. “My mom. She just hugged me, and told me how proud she was to have such a beautiful, confident daughter. It was sort of embarrassing at the time, but… it was something I needed to hear, you know?”

She pauses then as the server returns with their champagne. Afte the woman dips out again, Lena nudges her. “And did you ever find a dress?”

Nia snorts, nodding. “Yeah. Like, two minutes after I calmed down I found my dream dress. And my friends and I had a blast at prom, so I’m glad I went after all.”

“Good,” Lena murmurs, sipping her drink. “Well, I can’t promise anything about a dream dress, but I’ll call it a win if we get out of here without any tears.”

“Cheers to that,” Nia concurs, lifting her own glass for a deep sip.

In that moment, Charnelle returns, wheeling a short cart of long dresses along with her.

“All right, ladies-- who’s ready to see some gowns?”

---

Nia settles on a bias-cut gown of sky blue, accented with beaded embroidery at the bust and straps. It may not have qualified for dream status, but it’s perfect for the Globes, and Lena can tell Nia is excited by the time they step back out onto the street, garment bag draped over her arm.

“Thank you, again,” Nia offers, hiking her purse higher on her shoulder. “You really didn’t have to do all this, especially with how weird things are right now. I know it probably wasn’t easy to say yes when I called last night.”

Lena blinks. It honestly hadn’t occurred to her to say no. “Nia?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you call me?” It’s her turn now to shift uncomfortably on her feet. “I’m always happy to help, but… as you say, things are weird. Why me?”

“Honestly?” Nia asks. Lena nods. “You remind me of my mom. I can’t begin to tell you how or why, but you do. And the thing is… my mom was probably the kindest person I’ve ever known. So-- if you reminded me of her, I figured you were a pretty safe bet. And the worst you could do was hang up on me, so…”

Right.

Lena nods, her throat locking painfully around a sudden lump in her throat. Forcing a smile, she clears her throat. “Okay. Well… I’m glad I was able to help. Are you okay to get home?”

Nia nods easily. “Yeah, I’ll just catch the bus. Thank you again. This was really nice, and it was really good to see you.”

Lena nods, but before she can turn away, Nia catches her by the wrist.

“I mean it, Lena. I owe you one. If you ever need anything…”

Lena turns her wrist, allowing her hand to settle into Nia’s palm. Giving it a squeeze, Lena offers her a smile.

“I know who to call.”

// prompts are closed

this isn't a real mermay prompt, but if the mood strikes you: indulgent supernatural sugar daddy indrid? roleplaying that he's finally reached the limit of his patience for duck's teasing and now he's going to tie him to the bed and use him however he sees fit

Here you go! I riffed on something we discussed on the discord. CW for mentions of stripping, blood and booze, the roleplay could be read as dubcon but it's clear what they're doing and that everyone is consenting and enjoying themselves. After care is show.

“Damn, guess they ain’t kiddin when they say it’s the city that never sleeps.” Duck stares from the window of their suite onto the flashing neon and 11 pm traffic of the Las Vegas strip.

“I thought that was New York City?” Indrid looks up from where he’s laying their dinner out on the shiny black table.

“Maybe? I dunno, only ever been there once, on a trip with my folks as a kid.” Duck slides into his chair across from his grinning boyfriend. They picked up a massive spread of food earlier tonight, their friend Barclay having lots of intel on the best food in the city and the affection for them to write out a detailed list where to try.

Indrid grabs a pill from his bag on the bathroom counter, then settles across from Duck with an excited grin, “There, now I can dine without fear.”

They’re well into dessert when Indrid wipes his lips with a thoughtful hum.

“You know, sweet one, this never silent, ever bright environment lends itself well to certain activities.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck leans across the table to take his hand.

“I have more details that we can discuss while we digest, but to begin; how do you feel about dressing like the loudest man on a college campus for the night?”

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

Duck strides into the main floor of the Wynn, the industrial strength air conditioner practically sending him into shock after the heat of the pavement and desert air.

En route to the agreed upon Blackjack table, he makes eye contact with his reflection in a bank of windows. Only the flip flops were in his suitcase when they arrived; the mint green muscle tank and khaki shorts came from the nearest thrift store. He picked up special underwear once he and Indrid separated, suspecting it will make his boyfriend laugh. He loves making him laugh, even during their most intense scenes.

He gets his chips, his seat, and his hand within ten minutes, signaling a waiter for a screwdriver. God only knows why, but it feels like what this kind of guy would order on a Saturday afternoon. Duck’s decent at Blackjack; Juno taught him how to play and Ned helped him refine his technique. So he’s holding his own when a new player sits down two stools to his right.

“I intend to play the eccentric millionaire.”

When Indrid uttered that sentence, Duck pictured a slight variation on his usual evening wear; the suit he brings on trips just so he can take Duck out for nice meals without--as happened on one occasion-- being forced to borrow a jacket from a waiter.

He was not expecting this.

Indrid’s suit is jet black, blood-red lining flashing when he unbuttons his coat. His usual red glasses perch on his nose, and he’s done something to his hair that renders it sleek rather than it’s usual silvery tangle. His back is straight, his smile wide, and his manners pure perfection.

“May I join on the next hand?”

“One sparkling water please. Do add on a nice tip for yourself, won’t you?”

“Twenty! Oh, how delightful.”

Indrid wins more than he loses, careful to go over or come too far under enough times to avoid accusations of counting cards. Duck’s stack of chips dwindles, and he directs his frustration at this fact towards Indrid, muttering unkind things whenever the older man says, “hit me.”

When he’s down to thirty bucks, he taps out. Pushes back from the table with the huff of a man who’s used to getting what he wants. He finds the nearest bar and takes a small table for himself.

The chair across from him doesn’t stay vacant long.

“Hello.” Indrid folds his hands on the table, smiling pleasantly.

“What the fuck do you want?” Duck grumbles.

“To see if you were alright. You seemed rather upset when you left the table.”

“Ain’t upset, I’m fuckin broke. Came to vegas to get laid and get rich and I’m strikin out on both so far.”

“Perhaps I can help. I, ah, we are both here alone. Why don’t we keep each other company? Two bachelors taking on the city.” Indrid gives a very awkward “ta-dah” with his fingers.

“Dunno, I don’t really feel like slummin.”

“You won’t be. I promise.”

Duck leans back in his chair, arms crossed, “Oh yeah?”

A knife-edge enters Indrid’s smile, only to be covered by a menu, “Let me buy you lunch as proof. Order whatever you like.”

He calls the older man’s bluff by ordering a craft beer, the most expensive burger on the menu, and three appetizers, only to discover it was not, in fact, a bluff. Indrid pays for everything without so much as glancing at the prices.

“There now” he smiles at Duck as the waiter clears his leftover steak (“as rare as possible, please”), “have I proven myself a worthy companion?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Excellent” Indrid claps his hands together, “then let us see what else this town has to offer.”

While they digest they peruse the malls and casino hop wherever there are shaded routes that allow them to do so. As they’re maneuvering through the throng near the aquarium, Indrid says, “tell me a bit about yourself, Duck. Nono, wait, let me guess; southern prep school, expensive college, a family very happy to support you while you search for your place in the world?”

Duck nods (the only ways he’s able to lie during their scenes).

“I certainly hope you didn’t burn through your trust fund playing the slots.” Indrid elbows him playfully.

“Nah. Set myself a limit for what I could spend gamblin each day.”

“Clever young thing.”

“Indrid, how old do you think I am?”

“Thirty?”

“Thirty-six.”

The crowd presses them closer together as Indrid murmurs, “You don’t look it.”

“If we’re goin for personal questions, how old are you?”

“Oh, a bit older than yourself.” Indrid replies breezily, “ooh, look, rays!”

When the thermometer flashing in-between advertisements for Lady Gaga and The Osmonds cracks a hundred, Indrid ushers Duck to the indoor pool at their hotel. His new companion lounges in a reserved cabana while Duck soaks in the cool water, other swimmers floating past him or propping themselves on the edges to talk with their partners.

And every time he surfaces, he feels a red tinted gaze watching him. His new friend isn’t even trying to hide it, flat out ogles him whenever he’s in shallow water. Duck’s far from the youngest or most ripped guy here, but Indrid’s eyes never stray. It’s flattering.

It also makes sinking further into his role as easy as slipping into the deep end.

If the rich weirdo wants to buy him fancy shit because Duck is hot, he can knock himself out. It’s not like Duck has to fuck him. But teasing him might get him even more free drinks and expensive souvenirs. If he plays his cards right, he won’t pay for a single thing the rest of his trip.

He hops out of the pool, takes his time drying off and stretching before laying on his belly on the swanky deck chair, facing the opposite direction Indrid is to give the other man a better view of his ass.

“Where to next?” He tries for a purr and only succeeds at exaggerating his drawl.

Indrid’s smile widens all the same, “I have a few ideas. But let’s linger here a bit longer.”

After that he stays as close to the other man as he can, let’s their shoulders bump and fingers brush as they make the rounds for some pre-dinner drinks. He even whispers a flirtatious word or two, makes Indrid blush when he orders a drink called “silver fox,” looks him dead in the eyes and grins, “my favorite.”

He’s plenty tipsy when Indrid steers them into a hallway where bass shakes the floor and pink light disguises the cracks in the walls.

“Can’t say you’ve been to Vegas unless you’ve seen a little sin.” Is all the explanation given before the doors open on a two story strip club.

“Holy fuck.” Duck lets Indrid shepherd him to a stage where several men with abs that look painted on play at fucking the air, the stage, and each other, much to the delight of the two bachelorette parties and the single men dotting the audience.

“You’re a fuckin genius.” Duck growls, sitting when Indrid pushes down on his shoulder. The older man takes the seat to his left, watching the proceedings with polite detachment. He orders a cocktail for Duck and water for himself.

In spite of his apparent disinterest, the dancers all come to Indrid, one after the other. In theory, some of them should pass by Duck afterwards. But they all go right back to the stage or to other patrons. The few times one even looks at him, their eyes immediately slide away onto Indrid.

The fact the other man is handing out fifties and hundreds like they’re singles probably helps.

A tall brunette is currently in Indrid’s lap, and the silver-haired man whispers something and points at Duck.

Suddenly there is a very hot man in a glorified thong in his lap, who gives him a vaseline slick smile, “Your friend over there bought you a dance.”

Indrid waves, the movement grating on Ducks pride. He glares in response.

The older man calls “you looked lonely.”

“I don’t need your fuckin charity.”

Indrid cocks his head, then shrugs, “very well. Please come back here, for double the tip.” He holds up three hundred-dollar bills. The instant the dancer is out of his lap, Duck stands and stomps out, swaying more than when he came in.

The onset of evening has worsened the crowds. He slogs and weaves through them with every intention of getting back to his room, ordering room service, and bandaging his scraped ego

“Why so down, Duck?”

“Fuck! Jesus, let a guy walk in peace will you?” Duck snaps as Indrid falls into step beside him.

“We're on the strip, there's no peace here. No quiet either. Makes it easy to do what one wants.”

Cool fingers find Duck’s wrist, keeping him from breaking ahead to the crosswalk. As they stand and watch the cars and buses roar by, Indrid murmurs, “How about a little friendly game as an apology?”

“Better not be fuckin blackjack.”

“Nono, I’m thinking Poker. If you win, you win bragging rights and whatever else you like that I can give you. But if I win...you have to walk me back to my room. I’ll still buy all the drinks, of course.”

Neon glints off a fang Duck pretends not to see.

“Fuck it, sure. I'm gonna wipe the table with you, old man.”

“I look forward to it.”

In spite of Indrid making good on his promise of drinks, Duck only has one Whiskey Sour before switching to water; being full-on drunk would make him worse at Poker, something he’s complete crap at on the best days. Figures Indrid would choose a game where bluffing is key.”

His card shark of a companion is beating him, and everyone else at the table, soundly. He also declines any food or drinks for himself. After two hours of play and countless hands of defeat, Duck surrenders. Indrid preens, tips their dealer, and wishes everyone else at the table a good night.

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

“Why are we takin the stairs to the top floor?” Duck stares up the winding flights, unable to see their stopping point.

“It’s good for one’s health. And it’s, ah, far more private.”

“Why do you need privacy gettin to your room.”

The footsteps behind him stop as they reach the next landing.

“Simple. I'm hungry.”

Duck whirls just in time to catch Indrid as he lunges at him, fangs bared. It turns out to be a useless movement, the vampire trapping him in a corner effortlessly.

“What the fuck, fuckin let me go.” Duck hisses.

Indrid licks a fang with a thoughtful hum, “I can, though it comes with its own risks.” He sighs, put upon, “But you have been such pleasant company, I suppose it’s only fair to give you a choice. If you let me feed now, I shall be as gentle as I can be and only take a little. Or you can take your chances at outrunning me. However, should I still catch you, then I will take as much blood--and whatever else I like--as I please.” He brushes their noses together, “It’s up to you, sweet one.”

Duck takes a deep breath, the game fading while Indrid gives him time to decide how he wants to play.

Then Duck shoves Indrid away from him and bolts through the nearby door, running down the maze of corridors until he finds his salvation. Indrid’s laugh is still ringing in his ears when the elevator door finally closes.

When the ding announces his floor, he pokes his head out like a prairie dog watching for a hawk. No sign of the vampire. He comforts himself with that though, and with the fact that there’s no way Indrid could catch up to him now, as he click his keycard into the lock.

He shuts the door and reaches for the light switch.

Chilly fingers circle his wrist.

“I win.”

Duck is dragged, then carried, through the darkness, the light not clicking on until he’s tossed onto the bed. Indrid stands at his side, grinning hungrily.

“W-wait, fuck, please, I, how’d you-”

“Quiet.” Indrid tosses his jacket on the floor, straddles Duck with fangs unashamedly on display. Duck whimpers, tries to curl in and protect his throat. Indrid noses at it all the same, “don't worry you spoiled excuse for a man, it won't hurt too much.”

“‘Drid” Duck gasps, tipping his head automatically at the purr in the vampires voice.

Cool lips tenderly meet his own, “Indulge me a bit longer?’

“Hell yeah I will, sugar.” Out of habit, he guides Indrid’s glasses off and sets them out of crushing range, “Uh. Please, my dad is real fuckin wealthy, I'll pay you whatever you want?”

Indrid traces a sharp fingernail along Duck’s collarbone, “What I want is you. All those years getting what you demanded, not lifting a finger, you'll taste very rich.”

“Please don't kill me.” Duck can feel himself getting harder whenever teeth brush his skin.

The vampire cups his cheek, “Not a chance. I need to eat often, after all. And you're perfect to be my new pet. Spoiled, handsome, and no one will miss you.”

“Fuck you” Duck kicks weakly at Indrid’s ankle.

Indrid tuts, “Do I need to tie you down? I could hold you down easily, but I need my hands free to cover that sinful mouth and enjoy this lovely body while I feed.”

“N-no, no I’ll be good, I’llAAH!” His whole body tenses as fangs pierce his neck. He wants to cry out more but it’s perilous, might make him jerk away and tear the skin. But his body has to do something to release the tension, or the taught coils that replaced his muscles might snap and leave him in pieces.

He’s saved by a rush of pleasure melting every tendon, caressing every nerve into calm. Duck sinks into the bed, his body registering the suck of Indrid feeding but feeling no need to intervene. The vampires right hand creeps down to hold Duck’s left, his satisfied hum setting arousal buzzing in his chest.

Duck only realizes he’s been slowly grinding on Indrid’s slacks when the other man laughs, muffled and bloody. The vampire raises his head, lapping at the wounds so not a drop is wasted, “greedy boy. Even when you're dinner you think your pleasure deserves priority.”

“Please.” He wants his teeth in his neck forever, he wants his fingers and tongue between his legs every night.

Indrid kisses the wounds, sits up while daintily wiping his mouth with his shirt-sleeve, staining the starched white with red, “Delectable. Don't go anywhere, pet.”

“Not your fucking pet.” Wooziness pulls any teeth left in his tone, “and, and I thought you wanted me up here cause you were hungry. Now you ain’t. So, so I can go.”

“Oh no, that” he points to the marks on Duck’s neck, “was because I was hungry. The rest of tonight is happening because of your endless teasing.”

“I, uh, I don’t-” Duck turns bright pink.

“You were rather obvious. And silly me, indulging you because of your charms. Well, now it’s time to show me how grateful you are. Let me just slip into something a bit more comfortable.”

Indrid snaps his fingers. Reality gives a sickening crack. Then a mothman stands at the foot of the bed, feathers of soft browns rustling as he stretches his wings. He doesn’t have mandibles, but when he yawns it reveals rows of sharp teeth, the two where his human canines would be noticeably longer than the rest.

“Much better.”

Duck yelps, scrambles back into the headboard as Indrid dives onto the bed.

“Ah-ah” Indrid pins his arms and thighs to the bed with his four hands, “we had an agreement, little one. I get to do whatever I wish to you because you lost. And, more importantly” a long tongue drags up Duck’s cheek, “because that is how spoiled little humans earn their keep.”

“Oh god.” Is all Duck gets out before claws rip his shirt and shorts to colorful pieces. Indrid tips him sideways to finish mauling his shorts and pauses.

“What in the-” the vampire flips him onto his belly, stifles a giggle, “‘Bite me? Rather fitting underwear choice.”

“Thanks” Duck smirks into the blanket.

“Well, since I find myself incapable of denying you things, pet…” reality cracks once more.

“Wh-AHFUCK!” He yanks the nearest pillow over to muffle his cries as Indrid sinks his human fangs into the meat of Duck’s ass. It’s a different kind of pain, not as heart-pounding but just as fun. Indrid isn’t feeding, so he bites down only a few seconds before lifting his head to target another patch of skin. He doesn’t let up until Duck sobs his name into a silk pillow.

The vampire pulls back, but keeps Duck on his forearms and knees as he kisses a curve from his lower back to one of the innermost bite marks. Another shift and claws prick his legs.

“Mmmm, I can smell how turned on you are. I wonder….”

“Fuck, ohfuck” Duck pushes his hips back as Indrid’s tongue infurls down to tease his folds, “Indrid, please, please fuck me like that.”

“‘Ike ‘is?” The tongue presses in, thrusting lazily and without much pressure.

“Yes but, fuck, but more.”

A growl and Duck is slammed onto his back, Indrid looming over him with his wings outspread, “Have you forgotten the purpose of this evening?”

“No.” He stares up into red eyes, too turned on to be sheepish.

“Then why do you keep making demands? You have spent all day asking things of me and now it is time to show me why I tolerate such behavior.” He grabs Duck’s knees, holds them up and open with his lower arms, and purrs, “though there’s no denying your appeal from this angle.”

“Fuck yeah.” Duck fists the blanket in anticipation as Indrid adjusts them to put his head between the human’s legs. Indrid’s tongue caresses his dick, filling the room with slick, obscene sounds.

Then searing pain flashes through his left thigh as Indrid sinks the fangs of his form into it.

“FUCK! I, I thought, moths don’t-”

“Vampire moths do.” Indrid grins before smearing a line of red on Duck’s skin, “and I intend to drink my fill.”

Duck yelps again, slams a hand over his mouth when he remembers there’s two other suites on this floor.

“Be as loud as you like; I cast a little spell on this room to make sure no one hears what I’m doing to my new pet.” He thrusts his tongue into Duck without warning, fucking him on it until he’s bucking his hips, then pulling out to lap and suck at his thigh. When he next returns to sucking Duck’s dick, the feathers around his mouth are as red as his eyes.

Heat builds in Duck’s gut at the sight and he moans, “‘Drid, please, I’m so close to cummin just from this, please just let me cum.”

“Absolutely not.” Indrid drops his legs, dragging him into his lap with a hiss, “you have still not learned your lesson. You think you can get whatever you want just by looking sweetly at me. You’re so very wrong.” His upper arms trap Duck’s own behind his back while his lower set prick his hips, “now be a good pet and keep your legs open.”

Duck doesn’t get a chance to ask why; a cock, covered in vertical ridges with a very thick tip, shoves halfway into him.

“Mmmm, that’s lovely.” Indrid thrusts hurriedly, “now I remember why I put up with your demands all day. Spoiled though you may be, I’ve never had someone fit my cock so well. Ohhhhh” he opens his wings, grinning, “someone likes that.”

“Like you, fuck, Indrid, I swear I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t not teasing, no, fuck FUCKfuck” He takes as much as he can in one thrust, the last third still pulsing outside his body.

“Don’t lie, sweet human. I know you let me spoil you endlessly, teased me mercilessly all day, all while thinking you would spend your evening asleep and alone, rather than where you belong.”

Duck whimpers as his thighs fight to keep up the pace. They give out a moment later but nothing happens; Indrid’s grip on his hips is so strong he’s moving him without help.

“Fuck that’s so fuckin good.”

Indrid flutters his wings “You see how easily I control you, sweet one? You may be strong and handsome, but at the end of the day you’re nothing more than a toy for me to use and discard as I please.”

He whines at that, let’s himself go limp so it’s easier to hide his face in Indrid’s fluff.

“Don’t worry, pet, I shall not discard you. As I said, you are perfect for me, a lovely little gift to myself after a day spent giving them to you.” The hands restraining his arms let go and he instantly wraps them as far around the vampire as he can. Then clawed fingers gingerly stroke his dick. He groans out a thank you and Indrid laughs.

“Oh no, this isn’t for you. I just find that humans taste even better during orgasm.”

Any noise Duck makes in reply is drowned out in fluff and Indrids high, trilling moans as he sinks his teeth into his neck. Duck thrashes helplessly as his orgasm burns out his veins and muscles, leaving a melted man in its wake.

“Perfection” Indrid purrs, licking at the bite to close it as he grunts and pumps his hips, “my spoiled little human is finally worth something OHyesss, yes.” He holds a squirming Duck down on his cock as his spurts into him, the human unable to do anything but cling to him and moan his name.

A sweet voice lilts in Ducks ear, “if you ever forget what you’re for, or dare to tease me so again, I will strap you down in my lap and fill you until it sloshes.”

Duck nods to show he heard, but only gets through half the movement before wincing.

“Oh, oh dear, is the bite too big?”

“N-no, think, think it’s just real sore. You bit hard both times.”

“Let me look to be certain...yes, you’re right, the wounds are the usual size. Come, let’s get you in a bath at once.”

The next thing he knows, spindly arms lower him into the fancy jacuzzi. Indrid chirps over him, telling him how wonderful he is, how well he did, promising to fetch him anything he desires for dinner, all while bandaging the bigger marks and scrubbing blood from his chest. When the vampire is satisfied with his efforts, he takes his human form and joins Duck in the tub. The human immediately waves him into his lap and guides him into a kiss.

“Insatiable thing.” Indrid purrs, nuzzling his cheek.

“Damn right. And you love me for it.”

“That I do.”

Sweet Night 2

Jae x Reader

 It is Saturday and I don't have errands today but I don't want to waste this day by just laying on my bed and watch sum tv shows because that's what I always do (after my shift or when I don't have work). I decided to take a shower and wear a white shirt, jeans and one out of my three pair of shoes cuz I’m broke af. I put sum random stuff into my tote bag just in case cuz I still have no idea where I wanted to go. I head out my room and locked it. I glance over to the room across mine, I wonder when he will return my charger.. I’m just kidding. I wonder if he’s alright, I mean if he seems okay living alone and streaming all day? or all night not leaving his apartment. I’m just a concern co-tenant that’s all.

 I walked and walked and walked until I reached to the bus station. I didn’t wait that long for the bus to arrive, I hopped in thankfully there’s not much people at this hour. It’s only 10AM and I still have lots of time to waste. Since this bus is heading to the center of the city, where most people go cuz there are a lot of shopping malls and attractions I’ll stay there and let where it will lead me.

 When we reached the bus station, I immediately got off the bus and casually walked on the street. There are lots of stores in the area that I’m in, there are sum bookstores, clothing stores and cafés. I don’t usually go outside like this but when I do, I only go to market to buy groceries so it feels new to me to go out alone in a different place. What I like about living here is that people don’t actually care about others, it doesn’t matter to them whatever you do in public as long as it’s not harmful.

 I entered to sum clothing stores just to checked their prices and left right away. Damn. Why does clothes have to be that expensive, I can already buy five thrift items for that price. I went to a bookstore and bought one book. It’s a self-help book, though I don’t actually read but I want to give it a shot, this might be a new hobby for me so. I also went to Daiso which I think is now my favorite place, they sell random stuff and cute stuff which I ended up buying more than 5 items.

 Going to stores surprisingly took me 3 hours it’s already lunch time so I went to a café that also sells meals. The ambiance of the place is so calm and expensive, and there’s not much people inside which what I like. I ordered iced matcha and sum carbonara. After I eat, I headed back home cuz I might end up spending all my recent salary in just one day cuz that’s possible to happen. Knowing myself I’m a big spender but try to manage that since I’m now earning and paying my own bills.

 On the way home I didn’t saw the strange old man, thankfully. I’m tired and can’t deal with him right now. I put down all my bags on the floor, got change and lay on my bed. I was busy scrolling through my phone when I heard a knocked on my door so I stood up and walked over my door. My eyes grew bigger when I saw who knocked. It was my neighbor, Jae. He’s wearing sum navy long sleeve button down polo and jeans, way different from what he always wears except only his slides.

 “Hi Jae.” I greeted.

 “Hello y/n. Do you have time?”

 “Yeah why?”

 “Um I know we don’t know each other that much but can you help me?”

 “Well, I guess what is it?” I honestly don’t have an idea what help he is asking. I don’t know he might ask me to help him move furnitures or carry huge boxes or even buy him food outside the building or sumthin.

 “I’m sorry if it’s so sudden, you’re the only person that can help me about this, can you do makeup on me?” Eh? that’s all? I really though he’ll make me carry boxes. When I looked at him, he’s scratching his forehead. I think he’s embarrassed. So cut-I don’t to make things complicated for him so I I’ll put my curiosity behind.

 “Yeah, of course.”

 “I already bought makeup earlier so you don’t have to worry.” I nodded and bite my lip. So, I have to go to his place? Omg

 “Uhh so where do you want us to do it?” Woah that sounds so wrong. I immediately covered my mouth that made him laugh. “I-I mean am I going to your place or?” I nervously laughed. Damn. What the fuck.

 “Anywhere you’re comfortable.”

 “Okay so.. my place?” I asked him and he nodded.

 “I’ll just get the stuff” he said and entered his apartment.

 I scanned my room making sure that my place is clean. All my dirty clothes are on my basket. I have no dishes in the kitchen. My bed is a mess so I quickly smoothen the crease I made on my bed earlier. I sat on my chair and suddenly felt my heart beats fast. I just realized that it is my first time inviting a guy that I barely know, in my apartment. Not that I trust easily, it just my gut feeling telling me that he’s a nice person.

 I heard a knocked so I stood up and opened the door.

 “Hello again” He smiled and extend his hand carrying a paper bag. I took it and oh boy it’s heavy.

“Have a seat.” I offered him to seat on my small dining table cuz I don’t have a couch in my apartment. I sat on the other chair across to him. I took out all the makeup inside the bag and lay it on the table. I think he bought every item that’s in the store, there are more than 10 products inside the bag.

 “Okay..” I looked at him and he fixed his posture and looked straight at my face. Woah. I never felt more shy in my life.

 “I already have moisturizer on.” He spoke. How come he can read my mind? Besides from being a streamer is he a mind reader too?

 “Do you think that’s enough cuz I don’t know what I bought.” He pointed the bag.

 “it’s.. a lot.”

 “I asked for assistance and the lady there suggested those.” I laughed. Poor boy.

 “I think she tricked you from buying everything.”  

 “Happy to help.” He said.

“Great. Okay I’ll put foundation on your face first.” I opened the bottle and put sum at the back of my hand. When I said that he bought every single item in the store, I mean it. He even has the complete set of brushes.

 I can see that he’s still staring at my face while I put foundation on his face. He’s prolly counting my acne and dark spots. I’m too shy to tell him not to look directly at me so I just asked him to unbox the products.

 “Can I ask?” I spoke.

 “Sure.” He answered while he’s busy unboxing each item.

 “Why am I the person you reached out for this?” I raised the foundation and brush, referring to the makeup.

 “Most of my friends are men I bet they don’t know anything about this and I think you’re the only woman that can help me plus you lived across  so..” I laughed when he said the last part.

 “What is this for? If you don’t mind me asking” There, I said it. I’m just curious why he wants me to his makeup at 3pm. Not sus at all.

 “A-ahh I have an event.. yeah an event I need to attend to”

 “Hmm. Is it like the streamercon thing?”

 “Y-yeah something like that.”

 “By the way what time is the event?”

 “Probably at 6 but I have to leave at 5.”

 “Alright I’ll just make it natural.” He nodded and stared at me again.

 “Do you play games?” He suddenly asked.

 “No and I will never.” He laughed.

 “Why?”

 “I don’t know, I just don’t like playing and It looks complicated”

 “Maybe at first but once you started playing, you’ll get used to it.”

 “Still not convince.”

 “How about hobbies? What do you do?” I stop what I’m doing and looked up as if that I’m thinking. He looked at me intently, waiting for me to answer.

 “Nothing.” I said and continue doing his face.

 “What? Really?” He said surprisingly.

 “Yeah, I don’t really have a hobby.”

 “How about that painting?” He pointed something on my back so I looked back to see. It was my painting on top of my drawer, I hid it behind my picture frame cuz I have a nowhere to hide it.

 “That was years ago. I don’t paint anymore.” No story behind it. I just stop doing it. Besides I got busy from working.

 “Why though? That honestly looks really cool.”

 “Really?”  He nodded. “Thank you.”

 “Alright.. down to the last part.” I finished doing his face and I didn’t put a lot of makeup since he already has great skin. I just put concealer under his eyes and brought colors back to his face. I grabbed the peach lipstick and twisted it open. Still laughing in my mind cuz the sale’s lady prolly made him buy 4 lipsticks.

 Now it’s my turn to look at him. I’ve been avoiding his gaze while we’re talking, trying to focus on what I’m doing. I don’t want to make it awkward for the both of us so I’ll just make it fast.

 “Just stay still okay.” He nodded while looking anywhere but me.

 I don’t know where to put my other hand so I let it rest on my lap while the other one is holding the lipstick. I raised my hand and before the tip of the lipstick even touch his lips, he grabs my wrist.

 “Why?”

 “Nervous.” He said, still not looking at me. I’ve seen guys afraid of having lipstick on them which I don’t understand why but I don’t question it either.

 “Is that necessary?” He added.

 “Not really but for you, yes. You’re quite pale, I don’t want you to look dead.” He slightly laughed and softly released my wrist from his hand.

 “Am I that pale?” I nodded.

 “Alright then.”

 “Do you want to?” Asking him is he wanted to put it on himself.

 “No, it’s my first time I might mess it up. I’ll just let you do it.” Woah.  I feel honored.

 “Okay hold still.” I leaned my hand on his face but I can see him leaning backwards.

 “Don’t lean!” He laughed.

 “Alright.. sorry.”

 I hold his shoulder using my other hand and raised the other to glide the tip of the lipstick on his soft lookin lips. I saw him shut his eyes and I find myself smiling cuz I think he looks like a cute little kid. I didn’t realize that the application was taking too long until he slowly opened his eyes. My smile slowly fades while my hands still attached to him, creating connection between us. Our eyes locked into each other for a solid 4 seconds until his eyes slowly landed on my lips-sxsnpRYrccxSWwhhelp

 “W-woah.. m-my makeup is a masterpiece.” I said and quickly moves away. I grab a palette with a compact mirror and hand it to him. He took it and scanned his face. I can feel my cheeks heating up.

 “Masterpiece…” He said and turned to me smiling.

 “Thank you so much y/n for helping me. I owe you.” Thankfully I’m not that dumb enough so I heard it right.

 “No worries Jae. Happy to help.” I said mocking him about the sale’s lady situation. He laughed.

 “No really. I can’t thank you enough.” His phone rings, he looked on it and put it in his pocket. “Also.. can you please keep the bag for me?” I nodded.  We stood up and walked over the door.

 “Sure.”

 “Thank you again y/n I’ll see you… sometime. I’ll definitely make it up to you.”

“Don’t bother. It’s alright.”

 “I insist.” He looked at me intently. It’s like there’s sum energy from his eyes or maybe it just him that made me agree to everything that he says. I think I need to go to hospital. There’s something wrong about here or there’s something wrong about me…

 “Alright. Alright.” I slightly raised both my hands, showing him that I surrender.

 “Good. See you then. Bye y/n” He smiled. What the fuck

 “Bye Jae.” I smiled back. I waited him to leave before I hardly shut my door. I leaned on the back of my door, thinking about what just happened today. There’s nothing wrong about me. It’s him. He’s the problem. The way he looked at me. The way he smiles. The way he laughs. Gosh.

 I’ve seen this in films before and I’m now living on it.

1   2   3    4   5 

Today was a great day. It was beautiful out. And I had a great time with Jess. 

I woke up after an alright night of sleep. I felt really cute. I texted Jess that I was going to be ready sooner and asked if I should just come. And she was like yeah! So I actually got Jess a little after 10. I had a donut and then I was off. 

It was such a fun time. We went to the skate park first. It was great. Though I wish I had my helmet with me. I think I was a little more scared because I only had knee pads. But no one was at the park and so we had lot of space to practice and try things out. 

We went down the ramps and tried the half pipe for about a half hour. Jess fell on her butt. But my breaking is getting better and it was just so pretty out I was having a great time. 

A boy showed up and he mostly just skateboarded on the half pipe, so we hung out on the other side and just worked on jumping in place and transitions. But once we were to sweaty we moved to the grass to attempt round offs. Bad plan. Made my wrist hurt more. I need to go to the doctor about this. Stupid wrist. 

We went to learning express next. Its a nice toy store! But like. I still love my squishmallows but also I am sort of tapped out. I dont want to many more big plushes in the apartment. It was still fun to look and search but Jess got the ones we wanted from here already. I did end up find a little taco for James. And it was just a good time looking. 

We went to Ulta next. Had better luck at this one finding the face lotion Jess wanted. They still didnt have it but they shipped it for free to her house. I do not know why the other two we went to didnt offer this. But they were really nice so we at least felt nice about the whole thing. 

We went to starbucks next. We were just walking around this shopping center now. But it was nice having a drink. But then we were at the car and off again. 

We went to a consignment shop next. I got some excellent pants. And Jess got a few really nice pieces. I had a nice talk with the shop owner. 

We drove back towards our parents next. And went to the thrift store my mom used to work at. We had great luck there. I got James some clothes. I got me some clothes. I had fun trying thing one for the first time in a year! It was weird being in a dressing room. But it was fun showing things to Jess and I had a really nice time. 

I also found a few small things. A mug. A tiny umbrella. And it was just a blast. 

We were going to go to salvation army but intead we went to taco bell and had snacks. Jess had better luck creating a more normal meal. I enjoyed my cheese and tortillas with lettuce. 

We didnt want to stop hanging out yet. So we went to the mall to walk around. 

This was strange. The mall is way more dead then I expected. Like half the stores were closed. And one of the workers said that some of the stores close at 4 or even open at 4? I guess because the people who come to those stores are younger and come after school? No idea but it was so odd.

We did see more squish. And we found the very very tiny ones. Got a few of those surprise boxes to open. And got to see the new backpacks. It was great. Just a lot of fun. And I just really enjoyed being with Jess. 

We finished the trip to the mall at the lego store? A second hand lego store?? It was very cool. I want to bring James there so we can build a minifig.

I went and dropped Jess off, she helped me get the drawers shes giving me in the car. And then I went home. 

I had a nice couple hours putting things away. I went and cleaned out the car. I rode my long board a little before I figured out how to fit everything in the trunk because I now have so many things to bring back to the apartment. I think its going to work but man. Its going to be a close thing. .Because our trunk is so small. Ugh. 

Around 630 I headed up leftovers. And then got on discord to talk to James before DND. And it was a fun night. We were mostly just leveling up so it wasnt to roleplay heavy. I sewed for a bit and ate snacks. It was a good time. Especially when dad came in and didnt understand they could here or see him.  So we were just goofing on him. And showing off the little dogs. 

I stayed on the call with James for a while after the game. Jokingly rolled for love and got a Nat20. But after a while I could tell they were tired and so we said goodbye and goodnight.  

I went down to the basement to talk to mom. And then took a shower. And now I am in bed. I am real thirsty and tired. Tomorrow me and dad are supposed to go downtown to a museum he read about. I hope its actually open? It will be a ncie time regardless I think.

I hope you all have a good night. Take care of yourselves!

@sestet asked to see the mall earthquake scenes I scrapped from the first draft of that TodoBaku soulmate AU fic. So I’m going to post them under the cut with additional commentary for context.

Please keep in mind everything below the cut comes from a first draft so it’s sloppy and rough because I don’t go back and rewrite/tweak/edit until after the whole first draft is done. 

BnHA/MHA manga spoilers may apply

In context, this fic is a 110,000+ fic that starts when the soulmate connection manifests and so far extends well into third year (and will probably finish a while after graduation). 

The soulmate connection is an ability to sense your soulmate’s emotional state at all times. If your emotions are identical then the soulbond, called the resonance, will vibrate and increase your ability to use your quirk. In romantic situations there’s a hum more than a vibration, which does not increase your quirk. 

These scenes take place in third year. At this point in the story, Todoroki’s been rebelling by wearing a ring for a long while, Bakugou and Todoroki have been dating for a few months or so. Bakugou’s mentor right now is Miruko and Todoroki’s mentor right now is Gang Orca. Todoroki also spent some time in second year having Present Mic as a mentor during some Council shenanigans. Bakugou, Todoroki, and Yaoyorozu are the Big Three. Midoriya ran off to deal with AFO and dropped out of high school on his eighteenth birthday. Todoroki told Endeavor his plans to be an underground hero in a dramatic hospital room confrontation, and Bakugou’s been on a trajectory to mature in such a way by the end of the fic he’s not as King Explosion Murder as he was as a first year. That way all three of them have the dream they started out with on day one changed by the end of the fic. Best Jeanist also turned into a nomu at one point and was declared dead later. Bakugou, Todoroki, and Yaoyorozu have been helping keep an eye on Eri, who wasn’t really prepared for Midoriya to just disappear, but has been coping with it since. Also, Natsuo is with the League of Villains after Dabi kidnapped him to save him from Council shenanigans the previous fall or so. Dabi died almost a year ago. The Todoroki siblings know Dabi was Touya. Not sure how much of that will be relevant to these sections but I figured they were some high points that might get referenced briefly or eluded to. 

This first version of the mall earthquake scenario is set just before Christmas in the story and about two months after Bakugou and Todoroki had their quirks swapped for about  a week. Bakugou’s POV will begin (though I’m probably going to keep this bottle rocket Bakugou section for the final draft in some form) and the POV will change every time you see a ~

===

Midterms ended and third years gained more privileges. They would be pro heroes in only a few months and needed the freedom to go to interviews and find housing. Their first licensing exam opportunity was in January, but the selection process started in lieu of licensing. Some people who proved themselves in the field but had an off day might work in offices until they passed the next available exam. Other agencies would not guarantee a position if a candidate did not receive their lisence accordingly.

This Sunday it was Bakugou’s turn to watch Eri after lunch. Yaoyorozu and Todoroki were out and Miriio was too busy studying for exams to come this week, but promised to visit more often after exams.

Eri rushed up to Bakugou and took his hand gently. “Can we make bottle rockets? Please?”

Bakugou blinked and then grinned. “Yeah.”

Eri already had all the materials. She even decorated the popsicle stick stabilizers with glue and glitter. “I watched a show on TV about it,” she said, “and I want to figure out how to do it.” She pointed to lines on the bottles. “I measured water and marked them for the vinegar. We need to make packets of baking soda.”

They took the equipment to the Home Ec room. Eri carefully measured out baking soda into paper towels and Bakugou helped her tie them at the ends. They attached the sticks to each bottle with more glue. Each rocket represented a different ratio of baking soda and vinegar. Each bottle also marked different amounts of vinegar.

Kirishima paused at the door. “Hey guys. That looks interesting.”

Eri explained the plan to Kirishima and soon all of them headed out to an empty part of campus with the rockets.

“You get to pour the vinegar but I’m doing the baking soda,” Bakugou said. He was not going to be responsible for Eri taking a bottle to the face or any other preventable mishap.

“But –” Eri stared up at him e a long moment. Neither of them looked away. Bakugou’s face remained firm. “Okay,” she agreed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?” Kirishima asked Bakugou.

“You just want to be the one to launch it.”

“So do you.” Kirishima snorted.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Alright. One bottle at a time.”

Eri put a funnel into the first bottle and carefully poured vinegar until it reached the line. She handed it to Bakugou along with the corresponding baking soda packet.

Bakugou stepped away, placed the packet inside and set the bottle down. He headed back over to Eri and Kirishima just in time for the vinegar to soak through the paper towel enough to create the reaction and send the rocket popping up into the air.

Eri wrote the results in her notebook and soon they prepped the second rocket. It shot up higher and then arced before zooming off haphazardly to the side.

Eri finished pouring vinegar into the third bottle and sealed the vinegar jug.

“What do you think will happen this time?” Kirishima asked.

“I think this one will go even higher,” Eri said. She smiled and handed the bottle to Bakugou. She turned to Kirishima for the last baking soda packet and then stared up at him.

Bakugou followed her gaze. Kirishima froze in place. His eyes scanned the horizon.

“Earthquake,” Kirishima said. He knelt on the ground. “Get down!”

Bakugou did so and Eri mirrored their positions. Her gaze shifted in the direction Kirishima stared. Soon Bakugou heard the rumbling growing steadily louder. The ground seemed to roll underneath them as it vibrated. Fire erupted as a gasline bursta few blocks away. The ground kept moving. Kirishima moved so his body protected Bakugou and Eri’s heads from debris. It lasted seconds but it felt much longer. The quake began to ebb the sound traveled into the distance. Sirens rang throughout the city.

Kirishima stood up and helped Eri to her feet. Bakugou stood up and brushed the dirt from his hands.

“Let’s pick our shit up and get it inside. We’re going to find Yagi.” Bakugou grabbed the unused bottle. When teachers and students were expected to assist local heroes, Yagi always took care of Eri.

Eri nodded. She picked up one of the straw bottles. Kirishima got the other. Bakugou grabbed the vinegar jug. Bakugou’s phone buzzed.

<b>Yagi:</b> I am at the teachers’ office. You can leave Eri with me. I’m sure Nezu will ask you to assist soon.

Both Bakugou and Kirishima’s phones buzzed simultaneously.

<b>Nezu:</b> Hello, students. Due to the powerful quake in our area, we have permission to assist locally if you have your license. If your mentor requests your assistance elsewhere, you have permission to assist them. Those without licenses, await teacher instruction. To those off campus, be alert and aware. Be safe! Plus Utra!

After dropping Eri off with Yagi, Bakugou and Kirishima raced to the dorms to suit up. Some of their schoolmates were already heading to the school gates. Bakugou forewent his gauntlets since major explosions could be more detrimental than helpful in this situation. He hit the gates at the same time as Kirishima, Jirou, Uraraka, and Shouji. All of them moved as a unit into the city.

<b>~</b>

It was Todoroki’s first time in a mall that had nothing to do with work. There was so much to take in, so many things to look at. There was anything any type of quirk might need here and even things unrelated to quirks like books, music, and other forms of media.

Yaoyorozu adjusted the strap of her purse. “Sorry about asking you out here, but our time at the thrift shop was kind of fun and I didn’t want to invite someone who might accidentally invite Kyouka. I know Christmas is more than a month away but you never know when they might need our help again.”

Todoroki nodded. “I need to think about Christmas too.” As far as he knew, none of his family observed Christmas. Everything he knew about it he learned from pop culture and his classmates. Everyone who dated someone always made a point to get their partner something nice. When Yaoyorozu mentioned getting something for Jirou, it did not take long for Todoroki to want to get something for Bakugou too.

Yaoyorozu looked at him with a smile and said, “I guess we just dive in and see what happens.” She bounced excitedly on her heels. “Let’s go.”

They tried music, but Jirou had such a broad taste and so much music neither of them could be sure what she did and did not own. They tried books, but they did not seem the right fit and Todoroki found his mind wandering. Quirk themed gifts seemed too personal. There were a lot of stores that seemed too cheap. After a while they bought crepes and settled down on a bench in the middle of the mall. Todoroki nibbled at the strawberry filling. He did not really focus on anyone or anything, but sometimes his eyes swept the crowd or checked the exits.

“Earthquake!” someone shouted from far away in the mall. “I can smell it!”

Before Todoroki could fully consider how someone could smell an earthquake, it began to jostle the mall. Todoroki and Yaoyorozu got under the bench. Displays toppled. Glass shattered. The lights flickered. The ground kept shaking along with their bones. It seemed to last forever and then it moved on and away from the mall.

Yaoyorozu rolled out from under the bench. “Excuse me,” she said and then ate what was left of her crepe still in her hands in three large bites.

Todoroki’s ate what was left of his crepe and put its wrapper in his pocket. His eyes scanned the immediate area. One of the shops emergency gates fell during the quake. Everyone he could see appeared dazed but uninjured. He looked at Yaoyorozu.

They headed towards the sound of the glass. Their phones buzzed but they could answer later. Shards of glass began appearing on the floor, crunching under their boots. Three of the safety panels used to keep people falling from the floor above dislodged in the quake, the glass bursting across the concourse for meters. Todoroki sent out an emergency code like he might if he was working for his internship.

“Please remain where you are,” someone said over the intercom. “Heroes will be with you shortly.”

“We should move them before the aftershock, shouldn’t we?” Yaoyorozu asked quietly.

“Is that safe?” Todoroki looked at her.

Yaoyorozu’s eyebrows drew together. “Is it safer to let them go through the aftershock in glass fragments?”

Todoroki was not sure. He scanned the area. They were the only people able to help. “I can see if a store will let us transfer them inside.”

“I’ll make a stretcher,” Yaoyorozu removed her coat and tied it around her waist. She pulled her shirt up so it exposed her mid-drift. “It might take a bit. I’m going to make it folded and then unfold it.”

“That’s fine.” What were their other options? Todoroki sent out an emergency code as he would if it was during internship hours.

A nearby clothing store willingly started moving racks so they would have room to put the injured. Yaoyorozu’s stretcher helped speed up the process. Those that got caught in the glass tried to take shelter in kiosks and under benches. Winter clothing helped prevent many injuries but there were some with multiple fragments embedded in their skin. There was no ideal way to move anyone without causing pain. Todoroki carried those less injured and helped those that could walk. Yaoyorozu used the stretcher to transport the worst injuries. They brought the last of the injured to the store just in time for the first aftershock.

The mall shook even more than it did the first time. People cried out in pain. More glass fell in other parts of the mall. There was nothing they could do until the shaking subsided.

<b>~</b>

It was dark. The moon set not long ago. The aftershocks at first grew more intense before gradually diminishing. Now they were barely noticeable. Bakugou stared at another him, just as tall, wearing the same exact clothes. He was several evacuations into the earthquakes now. They were finding people who did not make it out of buildings in time more than survivors. He almost could not process this.

“Camie.”

“Bingo!” Camie held up a finger. Her pro-hero costume was not much different than her high school hero costume except she no longer wore the hat. “We have a problem nearby, and I heard you shouting, so I told my boss I could bring one explodey boi to help us.” She looked at Shouji, Jirou, Tokoyami, and Kirishima. “Actually all of you can come too.” Her gaze returned to Shouji, “If that’s up top with you, Sensei.”

“I’m also a student,” Shouji said. “We can assist anyone who needs help, so it’s okay anyway.”

Almost everyone who worked for the same agency as Camie had quirks that lent well to infiltration and not so well to search, rescue, and recovery. Hero and civilian disaster crews continued to work together. The aftershocks grew weaker. The body count began to rise. Bakugou and Kirishima helped move debris as they helped search for those still alive. A family huddled together did not move and no longer breathed. Under them was another family barely alive.

Kirishima’s jaw remained firm. His eyes reflected the streetlights coming on as the sun set. Bakugou looked away and kept working. Uraraka vomited nearby and offered a quiet, “Sorry,” before turning to lifting debris with her quirk. Shouji and Jirou worked together, Jirou listening intently so they could track sounds of potential survivors and target their efforts accordingly. Camie worked wherever she could lend a hand. The night grew colder. They kept working.

Bakugou stepped away from the wreckage. His breath condensed in the air. Something waved in his immediate vision.

“Noms?” Camie asked, twirling a protein bar in her fingers.

Bakugou grabbed the protein bar. It was the only savory and palatable flavor the brand made. “Yeah.”

Camie opened a matcha flavored protein bar for herself. She slowly shifted her weight from one leg to the other, resting as best she could. Flurries settled onto her hair. She let her breath cloud in the air on purpose.

Bakugou ate slowly. He let his chin hide from the wind in the collar of his coat.

“I want to work together again,” Camie said, “as a team.”

“Infiltration isn’t my thing,” Bakugou said.

“I know, but I’m a subcontractor. I work with everybody.” She put her trash in her pouch.

Bakugou’s phone buzzed.

<b>Nezu:</b> Hello students! Curfew is still in effect. Remember to communicate and bring proof if you are late. Plus Ultra!

Bakugou looked at the time on his phone. He frowned. He still had the energy to keep going, to keep helping. Four more months and no one would be able to stop him.

<b>~</b>

The mall remained standing. There were bigger problems and needs across the city. A vacuum hero appeared to help with the glass. Paramedics were slow to arrive. With each larger quake, more glass fell. Everyone took to the stores for shelter. Even then there were still injuries. The food court caught fire three times. Eventually the aftershocks were almost unnoticeable. The glass was gone and everyone could go home. Stores began cleaning up their messes. Todoroki and Yaoyorozu offered to help rearrange the clothing store and clean up the blood, but the manager and employees had it under control.

When Todoroki and Yaoyorozu exited the mall, their phones buzzed with Nezu’s curfew reminder. Snow flurries spit out of the sky at random. Todoroki let his fire quirk circulate to keep his left side from becoming too cold. They passed by people rebuilding tracks, working to fill sinkholes, and pulling survivors and corpses from buildings. There were still so many things to do, so many ways to help. Todoroki looked at his phone. He had several messages directed at the agency in general for help from various points throughout the city. His news alerts were filled with shots of the damage and everyone helping the major sites.

“I’m glad we were there to help,” Yaoyorozu said, looking at her own phone. “I know there were bigger crises but how many other smaller ones got ignored or put off accidentally?” She lowered her voice so only Todoroki could hear even though they were alone on the street, “How many villains get created that way?”

Todoroki put his hands in his pocket. “Now you sound like Midoriya.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I know I shouldn’t.” Yaoyorozu sighed.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Todoroki looked up at the sky as flurries turned into a thin snow shower. “Shouldn’t our job also be villain prevention?”

Yaoyorozu did not answer immediately. “I’m not sure if I’d go so far as to work with them.” She looked over at Todoroki. “What about…?” she paused mid-sentence. “No. I probably shouldn’t ask.”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve got other things to handle first.” Although if Midoriya or Natsuo appeared and needed his help, it would not be a hard choice to help them.

Iida, Tokoyami, Ashido, and Asui joined them as they neared UA. Todoroki offered Asui his left arm. She sleepily croaked and latched onto the warmth. By the time they hit the gates, there was a steady stream of students from multiple years and various disciplines.

Todoroki barely had his dorm slippers on when a flash of red zoomed towards them. Eri hugged Yaoyorozu tight. Yaoyorozu hugged her back just as tight. “I’m home,” Yaoyorozu said.

“Welcome home,” Eri returned. She let go of Yaoyorozu and looked at the other students. “Not everyone came back.”

“They’re coming,” Asui said. She rested her hand on Eri’s head. “I’ll clean up and we can wait for the others together.”

Eri nodded. She retreated deeper into the room where Yagi stood next to one of the tables. It looked like they were playing cards.

Todoroki took to the stairs with the others. He glanced back over his shoulder at Eri and Yagi. Eri watched the doorway, her cards in a fan. Todoroki turned his attention forwards. He knew everyone was capable of doing the job, surviving, and returning. He had not questioned it once. He felt Eri’s worry at the back of his brain. He tried to ignore it.

<b>~</b>

The ground opened up and swallowed them whole. Uraraka slapped Bakugou and Jirou hard in the arms, causing them to float. Shouji spread his wings. Uraraka clamped her hands over her mouth. They all took to the air and watched a sinkhole open up along the road leading to UA. Sirens echoed throughout the city. The sky was completely dark. From this height, they could see stragglers returning to campus and crews working various sites. Buildings around the sinkhole cracked and distorted. None of them had lights on inside, but that might just indicate a power outage more than vacancy.

“I sent security a message,” Shouji said. “They know what happened.”

“I’ve activated an emergency code,” Jirou said.

Bakugou and Uraraka landed on the north side and Shouji and Jirou landed on the south side of the sink hole.

Uraraka fell to her knees and vomited along the side of the road. Bakugou’s eyes swept the houses again. There were no lights or signs of movement at the windows. She cleaned out her mouth with some water and then walked over to him.

“I bet we wait at least half an hour,” Uraraka said.

“Probably.” Bakugou let off a series of sparks.

Snow continued to fall at a steady light pace.

“Reminds me of summer training,” Uraraka said.

Bakugou’s gaze shifted to her. Her eyebrows drew together and she stared at one of the dark houses nearby. “Where were you?”

“The east side,” Uraraka said.  She almost bristled at the memory. She took a deep breath and shook her head to clear it. “I’d like to think it doesn’t go on here.”

“It’s why they’re one of the top ten safest places in Japan. Probably true for all of them.” Bakugou shook the snow from his hair.

“Disgusting.”

“Yeah.”

Uraraka opened her mouth and then closed it. “Someone’s coming.”

Bakugou followed her gaze. Sure enough a group of construction heroes were heading their way, hopping from roof to roof as they traveled. Once they arrived and took over the scene, the students continued to UA.

When they arrived at the dorm almost everyone was in the common room. Bakugou had only seconds to react before Eri hugged him tight. He frowned and put a hand on her head. Eri slowly let him go.

“Welcome home. We were worried,” she said.

Were they? Bakugou glanced past her at the other students. They were busy making a hotpot for all to share. His gaze returned to Eri. She greeted everyone and then went back to helping make the hotpot. Bakugou’s teeth grit together. Midoriya just had to take off months ago. Bakugou didn’t want to think about it right now. He headed upstairs to clean up and make sure the hotpot was not turning into a disaster.

===

So, I scrapped the above version because I realized it would work better after New Years. Wasn’t completely sure where to use it so I chose Valentines Day to shake things up since it’ll be the third Valentines Day in the fic. 

Again, this is third year. Bakugou’s the first POV. 

===

Rain fell against the overhang splashing down to the concrete below. A sea of umbrellas entered and exited the mall. Bakugou watched his breath rise into the air as Todoroki scanned the posters. They should have looked at what movies were in theaters before leaving UA.

“What about this one?” Bakugou gestured to a poster with three adventurers running away from a propeller plane wheeling towards them engulfed in flames.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a romantic movie?” Todoroki asked.

“Probably.” Bakugou scanned the posters. Valentines Day was on a Sunday this year. Todoroki suggested catching a movie after they finished lunch.

“What about this one?” Todoroki asked. The poster had several couples on it with a slime monster rising up in the background in an ominous heart shape.

For a brief moment Bakugou felt the burning suffocation of slime invading his airways. He swallowed and scanned the posters again. “What if we hit up the arcade?”

The arcade had many different types of games and gaming modes. Several people already crowded into the room, gathering around the games as they played by themselves and with friends. As Bakugou and Todoroki walked up, a group of students vacated one of the dance games.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Bakugou said.

“We’ll see,” Todoroki said.

The game was both simple and hard. Each time they stepped on the board, it lit up with multi colored footprints and sparkles. The split screen directed them how to step, allowing for as much freedom of movement and flair as two people on the platform could allow. The song was fast and the beat easily hit each step. When the game finished, Bakugou put his arms up in the air, ready to claim victory.

It was a tie. The same score. The same “Excellent! 

Fuck that.

“Again!” he said at the same time Todoroki said, “Again,” in a firm but quieter tone.

They tied again. Bakugou won. Todoroki won. More ties. Were they about to sink all of their tokens into this stupid game? Definitely. The resonance vibrated. The dance beat pounded. The game flashed and glowed. People gathered around to film their dance off. Bakugou ignored them. He was going to win unquestionably.

Suddenly his feet slipped out from under him, throwing him towards Todoroki, knocking them to the platform. The ground continued to shake, growing and growing, rattling bone, teeth, and flesh. Bakugou rolled so he could protect Todoroki’s head with his body. He found his jacket nearby and put it over them. The ground kept shaking. Glass shattering echoed from the concourse. Children cried nearby. Games toppled. The power flickered and went out. Slowly the room stopped shaking, the building stopped singing. Everything was still. Everything was dark.

Bakugou let go of Todoroki and sat up, making sure to angle his jacket so any debris slid off. One by one cellphones illuminated. There was a chime not from the speakers but maybe some kind of projection quirk. 

“Please remain where you are. Help is on its way. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Are you okay?” Todoroki asked.

“Yeah.” Bakugou barely registered his phone buzzing multiple times in his pocket.

The generator kicked in and the power returned. Bakugou and Todoroki got to their feet and immediately headed towards the overturned games that pinned people to the ground. Bakugou wiped his face and then wiped his hands on his clothes.  

“I’m Shouto, this is Ground Zero,” Todoroki said.

“We’re going to move these things, so some of you have to move,” Bakugou added. “Now.”

Customers that could move cleared sections of the floor. Bakugou and Todoroki lifted fallen games off people and placed them where they would not fall on top of anyone else. Bakugou went to check how the rest of the arcade faired while Todoroki did what basic first aid he could to help the injured.

“Get down Ground Zero!” someone shouted.

Bakugou knelt just in time for the aftershock to begin. He grit his teeth and then consciously relaxed his jaw when the vibration grew too great. The power flickered but remained on this time. The games remained against the wall this time. When the quake subsided, Bakugou continued his assessment.

<b>~</b>

The aftershocks kept coming. The power went off and came back on repeatedly. The customers resituated themselves into safer positions. The voice kept reminding everyone to stay where they were, promised help would be on its way. So far there was still only Todoroki and Bakugou in the arcade. Once he treated everyone injured, Todoroki reported the situation to Gang Orca’s agency.

<b>Todoroki:</b> At the central mall arcade, second floor. Injuries and damage. No sign of other heroes nearby.

Todoroki enabled a paramedic alert. The agency responded with automated messages confirming it received both messages and would handle them accordingly. If the mall was this damaged, other buildings would be too. Who knew who might respond. All the hero agencies would need to coordinate and handle whatever was in front of them.

“Can we go?” someone asked.

There was a chime and the voice repeated the stay where you are message.

“No,” Todoroki said.

“Thanks Captain Obvious.”

“You’re welcome.” Todoroki headed towards the front of the arcade.

Bakugou met him within sight of the main entrance. “The professional heroes already here are assessing the situation,” he said. “They’re going to start evacuation.”

Todoroki gazed out at the rest of the mall. Glass particles spread everywhere, many panels from balconies on other floors coming lose and smashing in the quakes. Some lights were also gone and several displays were in disarray. Yaoyorozu and Jirou stood at the mouth of one of the shops on the third floor making a similar assessment.

Jirou looked at him and then gave one thumbs up and one thumbs sideways. Todoroki returned it. Their situations were probably similar with some injured but nobody so serious it was life and death.

There were enough rescue and recovery heroes to go through the floors and assess the situation. Medical emergencies left first, uninjured left second, and the injured and their companions left last. Some were taken to the hospital and others were patched up and advised to see their doctors if their injuries worsened. Each aftershock was weaker than the last and the gaps between aftershocks grew longer. That did not mean their work was over.

By the time Todoroki and Bakugou left the mall, it was dark. Sirens echoed through the city. Various helicopters and flying quirks flew through the air with purpose.

Hello!! Whereith thou get thee cool punked clothing? Ith would like to dress as cool as thou

Y’all gotta stop enabling me with my special interests- I WILL write you novels.

This is gonna be a whole thing, so sit your butt down and prepare to listen to me yell for ten years. 

This question is literally different depending on what I’m wearing- but my clothes fall into three schools of fashion which I’ll refer to ‘Statement makers’ ‘Essentials’ and ‘Accents.’ 

THE STATEMENT MAKERS: 

These are the pieces that make strangers want to start arguments that they can’t win on the streets with me XD I have 4 in total: Though each one is a work in process. “Where does get one of these fine pieces?” You may be asking yourself? “Surely there is a hot topic-esque store that must provide such items!” The long and short is no, there isn’t. You gotta make these yourself.

So how you do that?

Step one: Start with a base.I like to keep these relatively cheap bc A: I’m broke, and B: This way I can put a little more money into ‘accents’ (which I’ll explain more about later) First you need that base- a good garment that will hold up to your daily life and tolerate the abuse you’re about to put it through. What I do is go to my local thrift store, or good will (not salvation army. F*ck the salvation army) and get one second hand. The vest and the leather jacket above ran me a total of 20$ instead of the 100$ you’d waste if you bought it from Big Business (and also f*ck them too for killing the environment and the economy) Be heckin’ thrifty and crafty with it- you’re essentially purchasing your canvas so don’t be afraid to scrounge. 

Step two: Gather your men.And by men, I mean the sh!t you’re gonna adhere to this beast. A good place for pins/patches? Etsy. Theres literally millions of options you can get from small businesses and independent artists all over the world and they’re usually pretty cheap: Ranging anywhere from 1$ (plus shipping) to 15$ for big back pieces. Literally every single patch that wasn’t gifted or I didn’t make was purchased via etsy. Which brings me to my second option for pins and patches: Make them. You can get a button maker if you’re feeling frisky- or just go to a f*ck ton of rallies and accommodate them from there. Patches can easily be made with a scrap of black fabric and some white fabric paint. At my local WalMart a yard of plain black cotton fabric will run you about 3$ and will get you 10-20 patches depending on the size. The paint will run you about 1.50$ and an afternoon of your time just grinding away at it. 

And if you’re Extra Edgy™ like me- you’re gonna need some heckin SPIKES. Spikes are surprisingly easy to come by and add to your pieces- I get the little screw on ones: on Etsy it’ll run you about 10$ for 100 of them- or if you’re okay with it, use amazon and get 500 for 8$ (As much as I’m not a fan of big business, I can understand the need to go with the cheapest option.) 

Step three: Just literally throw that sh!t together.This is the fun part: Making it your own. This way no one has the same sh!t as you and you can wear your pride on your sleeve, back, chest ect-Small words of wisdom: -Iron on patches are weak. They’re not going to stay on for long. Just surrender to the fact you’re going to have to sew that sh!t on now and save yourself the heartache. -If you get/make flimsy fabric patches, you’re gonna need interfacing. You can also buy this at walmart for around 4$ a yard and it’ll save you so much goddamn trouble. -There is no way in the freshest of hells you’re going to be able to sew on a patch to a leather jacket. Just scrap that notion now- it’s not going to happen. So what can you do? Aleene’s super fabric glue. Literally the jaws of life aren’t gonna be enough to rip that patch off your jacket if you use it. Idk who Aleene sold her soul to to get such sticky sh!t but I stan her for it forever. -Don’t be afraid to paint directly onto your items. It’s so much f*cking fun. Just do it.-If you’re gonna make this a whole hobby/lifestyle you might want to consider investing in a sewing machine. You’ll never know true agony until you spend days hand sewing on a back piece stitch-by-stitch only to realize it’s crooked when it’s done. At least if you use a machine it’ll be 5-10 minutes of work lost as apposed to literal hours. 

THE ACCENTS: 

This is where you’re gonna throw the money you saved by thrifting your statements. These are the splurges, that one shirt with the funny logo you have saved in your bookmark bars, that impulse buy at the mall. The pricier things that you’re just not gonna be able to make yourself and would rather ask for for your birthday/christmas/whenever you’d be receiving presents.

So, as for MY guilty pleasure spots: 

WildBlackSheep on Etsy. What can I say? I love an independent bish. And their shirts are just so witty and funny, I love them to death and back. Not to mention the customer service is UNREAL. 10/10 would recommend to a friend.

WickedClothes.com. I’m just a dead ringer for combining that 80′s cartoon style with my morbid sense of humor. The ‘Let’s Have A Seance’ ringer tee is one of my favorite shirts. 

JohnnyCupcakes. Literally theres like one design, but it’s a design I love. If the cupcake with crossbones doesn’t convey who I am as a person, idk what does.

BlackCraftCult.com. Now, I’m not a satanist- but I’m extremely supportive of the ideals that neosatanism has. (Which is essentially just believing in yourself and not being an assh*le) Plus, satanist or not, the designs are dope. 

angryyoungandpoor.com. So, you want a particular piece of ‘punk’ fashion that can only be bought, but you don’t want to pay full price for it. This is your stop. It’s discount classic punk fair to find all your favorite brands at not full prices, plus more. The website can be like a goddamn maze but I’m sure every punk will find something they like there.

And theres so much more, but I’ll be here all day just getting down EVERYWHERE I buy clothes XD These are just my favorite brands, and the ones I frequent most to treat myself. 

THE ESSENTIALS: 

Now for last, but not least- literally the staples. The basics. The things every person who ever wears clothes ever needs. The foundation to lay all your accessories and statements upon to get a good cohesive look on you and have you feeling completely punkified. Find these literally anywhere that works best for you: Goodwill, Target, Walmart, whatever. It doesn’t matter as long as you have these staples to build upon your punky exterior. 

The shopping list:

-Black pants. Everyone and their mother needs just one good pair of plain black pants. They just go well with literally anything and are a dope addition to an edgy exterior. If you’ve got the funds and the time, I’d highly recommend finding one pair that fits you well and buying two of them- Keep one as normal but then take a couple of serrated knives and sandpaper to the other and give yourself some distressed pants. (Afterall, why on Gaia’s green earth would I buy PRE RIPPED JEANS when I’m the proud purveyor of my own destruction?)

Jeans.Same as the first for better or worse: You need a nice pair of jeans. I’d recommend doing the same shtick with the black pants and getting one pair to keep and one pair to rip up.

Plain black t-shirt.Literally get your butt to a dollar tree and get yourself a plain black t-shirt or two. You have no idea how useful it is to pair with your clothes. Just do it.

Plain white t-shirt.See above.

Boots.Combat boots just make the outfit. You may want to invest in a nice long-wear pair since shoes can be kinda expensive and you want a lot of milage for your buck. I’m a big fan of classic Docs bc they last FOREVER and are just good shoes. And if you’re not big on animal made items good news: They come in Vegan now. 

Converse.They’re just good shoes what can I say? It’s classic, it’s comfortable, it’s always been around and it’ll always be around. You can get them in all kinds of styles and colors- like why do I even need to explain to you why converse are a good idea? I bet 5$ you already own a pair! They’re also great running shoes in case you need to flee from cops if need be, in my experience.

And from there you can mix and match with jewelry (in the face or otherwise) and hair to get a whole look! Hope this helps my darling!! Best of luck with punking it up!!! 

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Therefore, you're in a position to locate an appropriate outfit which suits your personal and financial requirements.  If you're prepared to take a look at a thrift store to find out what you could find, prepare for an enjoyable adventure.  Scarves arrive in a vast selection of fashions, sizes and materials.

Things You Won't Like About Sandals Women's Fashion and Things You Will

Ideally, a customer request is going to be solved the very first time round.  Segmenting your emails will say that.  Compare how you describe yourself to the way that your customer describes you.

The first night in their new, real bed was the night they both decided something soft wasn’t going to cut it. Within the day, the comforter was removed and David pushed a firm mattress through the bedroom door.

Adjusting to life after death is a lot different than what survivor self-help books and online sessions seem to talk about. David knows and understand the work lain out - acknowledging problems, accepting the event, not letting yourself relapse to dangerous coping methods. Not obsessing over the dead body. Not consuming yourself with guilt and revenge. It’s the words he read before anything about fog and bear traps happened, but it’s all rooted in the same pain.

He likes to think he’s starving off the older fears better than the new ones. Possibly because John is dead. He made sure to find every piece of information that lingered on the Jigsaw cases - everything that sat in his apartment was gone, but the information remained elsewhere. Old newspaper articles. Obituary reports. Four dead in warehouse including alleged serial killer John Kramer.

It was a victory that felt - worth it. Not the fog. Not the trials. The cut throats and bullet wounds, that’s what was worth it. Upstate, David Tapp is dead, killed in the line of duty. Miami is a lot more simple than he thought it’d ever be, but Ace keeps the house quiet.

Too quiet, if it’s meant to be Ace Visconti talking.

The bed is the home of two men older than most of the lost souls who wandered the edge of the forest that never was. The bed is the home of David Tapp, who followed the train past the Mason-Dixon line with a couple other of the same souls when he got a phone call. The bed is the home of Ace Visconti, and he’s been sleeping in it religiously for three days.

David Tapp returns home in the afternoon, and makes sure to cross in front of the lazy smile of Ace to let him know he’s home, and - that he’s real, first and foremost. The hooks aren’t appearing at the foot of the driveway, and that’s - good. Ace once told him he dreamt they appeared at midnight, and Tapp stayed up the same night to take pictures to prove they weren’t coming back. The smile was the first genuine one of their life after death since breaking the fog’s barrier.

The sun lingers in the sky like it doesn’t want to say goodbye, dimming the streets in a good haze and making the insects sing in the trees. When David opens the door, Ace’s bare back greets him. He moves around their bed and checks how he lies, and a phone is close to Ace’s tired face.

”Did you shower?” David asks, tepid.

”I was supposed to, wasn’t I?” Ace says like it isn’t a question at all, and breaks his mouth to a lazy smirk, looking up at David removing his cap. “Don’t come crawlin’ up next to me, big guy, or else you’ll stink like rat-bitch.”

”I don’t think I was planning on to,” he replies, the laugh that finds it’s way to him the scoffed memory of old humour. David lays the uniform cap on his personal bedside dresser, atop the old clock. Digital, but ancient - they managed to find the same kind of clock he had for years in a thrift store, and its stayed with him ever since. A sense of familiarity.

David sits on the bed, nonetheless. He removes his shirt, an eggshell blue uniform belonging to a mall. He’s halfway through the fourth button when Ace whistles lowly.

”You're gorgeous, gorgeous, but I don't think I’m up for that right now.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re a comedian.”

”Oh, I try.”

When the shirt comes off, David leans down to pick up a white, more loose shirt. The same one he slept in - don’t knock him for lack of trying. “You should get up. Did you eat what I left out for you?”

He can hear Ace roll over, on to his back. “Thought about it. I’ll just have whatever’s for dinner tonight.”

David turns around. “Alessandro.”

Ace looks at him - he lowers his phone down against his bare chest, and the lazy smile he’s been wearing all day starts to fade, like the daylight outside.

”You don’t have to go using real names here, David,” he says, remarkably soft. David turns further into the bed, and lays down on his side.

”If it makes you listen, I think I have to.” A hand drags up the shoulder closest to him, and traces to his jaw. - as light as he can make it, because it’s been years since his hand grazed over the skin of another, even when the fog took everything else and left him with a gambler and his heart. “You have to leave our room eventually.”

”Just feeling under the weather. You know how things are... how they get.” Ace, though pushing his voice to be more distant, more neutral - leans to the touch, turning his head into his hand. “Must be the heat. Haven’t felt the heat like this since - well, you know. Couple summers ago.”

David’s smile is a lot sadder than Ace’s, and lasts even shorter than his. “You can talk to me.”

Ace’s mouth remains upturned, but like the humour in his words, it disappears eventually. His eyes roam to the ceiling, watching - nothing. The plaster is swept in meandering waves, low peaks to give their bedroom as much of art depth as a Miami designer can budget. But watching the waves of paint gets away from the subject, rather than looking at David.

As much as he might want to.

”Yeah,” he says, absently, without a real answer. David lays properly on the bed, supporting himself by his arm, and roams his hand down Ace’s body to curl over the knuckles of one of his own. David runs a thumb against Ace’s skin, and he can feel Ace change how he rests, an open palm to lock their fingers together. The silence is a better answer than anything that could be said, and David understands.

Humour is a great deflection tool. Self destructive behaviour is too, but he supposes it could always be worse, if Ace felt strong enough to grab what David is making and found the casinos again. Jobs are easy for an ex-detective, not so much an ex-gambler. 

Ace finally looks at David again.

”Denson called,” he says quietly, and it is then David realizes his eyes are looking past him, into the light of the outside sunset. Uneven stare. Readjusting to reality.

“She did?” David leans up a little to catch Ace’s eyes, then lowers back down when he follows with that stare. “She back in Pennsylvania?”

”Think so,” he says again, just as quiet, but with his eyes on David so focussed he might just disappear to golden ash and auric haze. “Said she’s moving back to her family. Sounds like she wanted a comeback.”

”Kate’s not the only person who can get back on her feet,” David says, and Ace’s next smile is a joke of its own.

”You’re right. Park? He’s talking to his old man again. Imagine waking up and deciding you want to be rich again, and being able to.” He laughs, and it’s uneasy, but sold like it’s perfect. “Can’t relate. I would love to, though, I swear it. If I could get back to it, darling, I’d give you everything—”

”What we have now is enough, Alessandro.” David brings Ace’s eyes back to him - this time with a hand directly, touching Ace’s cheek and holding him there. His stare looks past the shrouds of humour and the deflection - he would kiss him if he was furious with impulsive decisions, but David Tapp is nothing if not careful. “You’re still enough.”

Ace doesn’t speak. He looks like he wants to, but reaches his hand to David’s arm, first. When he does — “Man. Brute force your way to my heart.”

It’s a lot more sincere. Ace is the one who moves - the hand on David’s arm reaches up, and he guides him in, kissing him slowly, then deep, searching and - hoping. There’s a lot that he breathes against him, but David holds it in silence, leaning against Ace with a careful consideration. When he parts, he lays his head against Ace’s chest. Ace’s hand finds the back of his neck.

”Do you want to get up?” David asks, and he can feel him try to shrug.

”Yes, but...” Ace pulls his phone up, which had slipped off his chest at some point. “—Well, nothing’s out for dinner. We’ll have to order something.”

”That’s fine,” David says, pulling himself a lot closer, pinning half of Ace’s body under the covers that he’s made his home. His arm lays over Ace’s chest, and Ace’s hand finds his bicep. “For now. We’re going out tomorrow, since I’m off.”

”I’ve yet to reintroduce myself to the bakery sections of this state’s grocery chains,” Ace muses, and David looks up at him when he rolls his eyes, with an unreadable expression.

Unreadable to any man not named Ace Visconti, that is.

”The only thing that’s going to bring me back to life is a giant cookie cake, babe.”

That isn’t to say he’s vulnerable to the stern behavioural command that it gives, though.

”I’m going to lose you to your eating habits before I lose you to nightmares.” It makes Ace grin. Brute force to the heart, and brute force to whatever makes him laugh.

”That'll be quite the way to go,” Ace says, and rolls David to his back - the blankets press between them, and Ace has a hand to his chin, holding his head in place before he leans his mouth against him. “Indulging my pretty face in pasteries while my lover watches on in horror.” A kiss; stronger, on Ace’s terms. When David reaches around to hold him, his skin is warm, warmer than his own hands, all from being tucked under heavy blankets. It feels nice to kiss him from below without sunglasses knocking into his face.

Ace holds him there. The passion lingers, and it doesn’t get much farther than Ace’s legs between David’s and the revelation that he’s not wearing any clothes. But - the life that blooms back in Ace, even if for a moment, is worth every moment halfway between man and blanket. When Ace leans back up, he smiles down at David. David’s smile is warm in return.

”Get dressed,” he says, quietly.

”Of course. Can’t have my youthful body lay bare, lest I catch myself in the mirror and fall victim to vanity,” Ace replies, sitting up as best he can without crushing David too much. “—Or make you think twice about wanting to stay dressed.”

David leads the blanket after him, covering half of his body. “I’m charmed.”

Thrift Store

(August 10, 2021)

I walked into a thrift store today -- to protect the innocent, I won’t mention its name. I was shopping with my dad. 

It was a sweaty day. In our un-air-conditioned house, I sat near an open window, plugging away on my laptop, while my father sat under a fan, sweating loudly, lamenting his need for new shorts. He'd been on this theme this for days. "Do you want me to take you to get new shorts?" I asked. 

We went thrifting. 

Mom wanted me to take some nice things to the thrift store to see if they had any trade-in value. I knew full well they weren't going to take them, but Dad was willing to go through the effort, so we brought the things with us. On the way to the shop, he detailed a story about a former acquaintance who had been imprisoned for some kind of child grooming or pornography or something. Should be about thirty minutes, they told us as they took my mother’s clothes.

I left my father with a mélange of boxy khakis and sad plaids and made my way to women's section. I combed through the systematically, dresses first. We were on a Big Ten campus, surrounded by 10,000 square feet of sorority RUSH approved attire. Clothing that looked good in instagram photos, and dutifully held up through "Sticky Ricks" and basement parties. Or maybe it hadn’t,  maybe these were the rejects?

I was home for a few weeks before starting a graduate program, so, technically, I was a student again. What do graduate students wear to parties? I landed on a shiny long dress, leopard print. Very impractical. Very fun. I flipped the tag and felt instant regret: Shein. Yuck. I hated that I'd been drawn to the item all, but I held it despite my revulsion. Giving it a fair shot. Or, more likely, trying to convince myself that I do in fact have taste. It's here... It's $8. I could extend its life...

I eyed with the line for the dressing rooms before unzipped the dress and tugged it over my head. My disgust amplified. The fit was wack. No one’s body is proportioned like that. I chided myself: Shein. A young boy person stared at me while I tugged the dress back off of my head. I dead-eyed him. What. 

I was out of my element. Turning 27, officially in my late twenties, has made me feel that way, lately. I watched a girl, who looked like she couldn’t have been more than 13 come out of a dressing room in a black and white, denim striped skirt. "Literally, that's a whole fit." Her friend insisted. (Gen Z doesn't really exclaim like we did when I was younger, but they do insist.) I avoided eye contact, in what I hoped was an encouraging way. The skirt was fine. "I kind of like it," she confessed.

I moved to other parts of the store with fading optimism, trying not to be impatient. There were brands there I had forgotten existed, or had vowed off at some point in my adolescence. Some had new logos or rebrands, some new names all together. With the cut, the fade alone, I could tell you exactly where in the local mall many of these items had come from. Macy's, Aeropostale, Hollister, American Eagle. The occasional trendy H&M piece. Divided. Wet Seal. What would it take to divorce some of these companies from the impression they ingrained in me when I was fourteen? 

I pawed through limp jersey and rayon, and tried to puzzle out how exactly a wearer was supposed to approach this element, to put their body in them. My brain sorted through a mental reel of TikToks I'd seen in the past year; reference material. Most of the shirts were lacking the parts of it that might most make it a shirt: torso coverage, sleeves, a back. The reel slowed as I landed on what was really bothering me about the tiny tops. I support showing a little skin, but a garment that was difficult for the user to understand is sign of bad design. Even clothing that's barely there should have structure. 

I left the racks and went to find my father, decided on final purchases.There was a short debate on whether or not board shorts, no matter how cool, are pants before we made our way to the counter. A woman in the line in front of us dumped a rolling duffel full of clothing on the counter. It horrified me to think that the salespeople were going to have to dig through strangers' things -- that was, in fact, the whole job. Watching her, it remembered to occurred to me my father and I were the only customers in the store wearing masks. 

As we checked out, the woman at the register laughed. Looks like I owe you! she told us. They'd taken a skirt from us with an original purchase price of $60 for $2. My father's new shorts, listed as $17.00, rang up to $1.80. Everything in the store was 90% off, a back to school sale. I was equal parts horrified and validated. Dad, too, struggled to understand if he should be excited about the bargain or concerned about the value implications. 

For $1.80, I might as well just toss these out of the window on the way home, he said. And I couldn’t argue. The statistic echoed through my head, most fast fashion will end up in a landfill after less than 5 wears. How much of fast fashion was garbage before it even hit the rack? 

Christmas Harmony - Everybody’s Secret Santa

@kaedesfleawaltz I WROTE THE SECRECT SANTA THING

I dunno where this flood of inspiration came from but it’s gone now so here’s the product: a one-shot told from various perspectives as the v3 kids go about getting their Christmas presents. Under the cut. Enjoy!

Kaede stared down at the note in her hand, as though maybe glaring at it long enough would change the name written on it. As much as she cared about her classmates and wanted to give them all the best Christmas ever, she really didn’t have the slightest idea of what on earth she could give to Kokichi Ouma. Unfortunately, her attempt to magically shift the letters on the note failed, and so she found herself standing in the mall, with festive music blaring around her and not a single clue of where to start her search.

She eventually ended up in one of the mall’s more familiar stores: a music shop that, while quaint, stocked quite a wide variety of cds and records. Right away, she was recognized by a employee, who immediately hurried over to ask if she needed anything.

“Um…yeah sort of. I’m having a secret santa with my classmates at Hope’s Peak, and I really have no idea what to get him.” Kaede admitted with embarrassment. She was class rep, she shouldn’t be having this much trouble knowing a classmate’s interests!

“Oh yeah? Well I’m sure we’ll be able to help with that.” The employee winks smugly at her as he says this. Normally, Kaede would definitely agree with the man’s confidence, and she was sure that if she’d gotten anyone else, that she would. In this case, however…

“Well, do you guys sell…anything that an evil supreme leader might enjoy?” The employee laughs at Kaede’s sheepish statement, only for that to change to a stare of bewilderment and concern for her mental health when he realizes that no, she isn’t kidding.

“….Nevermind.” Kaede squeaks out, before promptly rushing out of the store in mortification. She spends the next two hours wandering aimlessly around the mall, stopping through almost every store (though not telling any more employees about the focus of her search).

She finds herself in a discount aisle, hidden at the back of a giant thrift store and filled to the brim with everything from questionable looking toys to Halloween costumes that didn’t sell. And there she sees it.

The perfect gift.

The moment her eyes fall on the ridiculous, dramatic cape, she absolutely positive that he’ll love it. And then, in some magnificent Christmas miracle, she somehow comes across an equally fancy and over-exaggerated crown, lined with so much glitter and rhinestones that Kaede thinks she’s going to go blind just looking at it. It’s so outrageously over the top. It’s utterly perfect.

 The moment Korekiyo gets home he pulls out every single book he can possibly find on the subject of costumes. He hasn’t done a great deal of concentrated research, but that’s all more the reason for him to get started quickly, isn’t it? This is going to be one of the most splendid gifts Tsumugi has ever gotten, Korekiyo won’t settle for any less.

He spends hours pouring over the books, jotting down any and every idea that comes to mind. Everything from books on incredible costumers from millennia ago to replicas of the first sewing machine to be invented.

It’s 2 am by the time he remembers that food and rest is necessary for both productivity and basic human functioning. It’s even a while after that before he can get the part of his mind yelling “Sleep is for the weak!” away from the controls to his body.

He comes back after a hearty, well balanced meal and an extensive rest to find that his sleep-depraved brain had actually found something of interest.

A gorgeous, vibrant textile from Bali. It would serve as an exquisite addition to Tsumugi’s collection. Yes, it was excellent.

But as luck would have it, he could not have it shipped over within the timeframe left before the Christmas party. No matter. He had some money squirreled away for just such and occasion, after all.

After a roughly eight hour flight, Korekiyo arrives in Bali. From there he quickly goes about finding the fabric, and is all the way back on home ground within two days. Upon leaving the airport, he decides to spend the remainder of his day searching for appropriate wrapping paper and ribbons to compliment Tsumugi’s personality, as well as her outward appearance. Almost every employee in the mall has become irritated with his presence by the time he finds something suitable.

He spends three hours making sure that the wrapping is absolutely perfect before he lets himself go to bed.

Only for him to bolt awake in the dead of night upon realizing he forgot to get her a card.

Shuuichi sat miserably with his head in his hands on some random bench he’d found during his search. It seemed the detective had finally come across a mystery that eluded him. What was he supposed to get a girl who could already make whatever her overly-hyper heart desired?

Maybe she would want some makeup? No, she probably already had stuff that was a million times more expensive than his budget would allow. He really wanted to get her something she’d like…if only so that she wouldn’t make fun of him. He started wandering through the shopping district, staring up at the dancing neon signs in the hopes that one of them could give him a clue. He spots a store that Miu would most certainly want something from, but it’s also one he doesn’t really want to enter, much less shop in.

Shuuichi stares pensively at the adult store. Yeah, he’s sure he could find something Miu would like in there…but would he even be able to purchase something from there in the first place? And even if she did like it, she would still definitely make fun of him if she found out he’d gone into a store like that!

Nope, definitely not worth it. It’ll take longer, but Shuuichi will go find somewhere else to get the gift. At some point in his search, he runs into Kokichi, who, having apparently already found his gift, decides to entertain himself by following Shuuichi around and trying to guess who Shuuichi is buying for. After stopping in front of a few too many skimpy-looking window displays and cosmetic shops, Kokichi deduces that the person in question is Miu.

From there, Kokichi becomes…surprisingly helpful, throwing out gift ideas that Miu would actually probably love. Who would have guessed that Kokichi of all people could be relied on for such a thing? Well, the more you know, he supposed.

The beauty-salon-pass idea seemed pretty good. And so, Shuuichi pulled out his phone and started comparing prices, trying to find the cheapest place he could.

“Heeeeey, you aren’t trying to grab her something from some super-cheap place, are you?” Kokichi said accusingly. Shuuichi…didn’t want to know what could happen to him if he lied to Kokichi.

“Well, I don’t really have the kind of budget to send her anywhere expensive…”He retorted lamely.

“Ooooooh, well if that’s all it is, then why didn’t you say so? I can help you pay for it!” Kokichi offered nonchalantly.

“No, uh, it’s fine Kokichi. I couldn’t ask you to do something like that.” Moreover, Shuuichi didn’t want to be indebted to Kokichi. For anything.

“Awwww, are you worried about me, Shuuichi? That’s so sweet! You know you don’t have  to go worrying about things like money with me though, right Shuuichi? I’m the Ultimate Supreme Leader after all! I have lots of money!” Kokichi reassured him, and if Shuuichi had fully believed in the concept of Kokichi’s organization, he may very well have been reassured. He wasn’t sure though…

“…Are you sure it’s ok with you?” He asked with mild concern. He doesn’t want to turn down such a nice offer, but still…

“Of course! Anything for you, my beloved Shuuichi!” Shuuichi…didn’t really know how to respond to the second half of that statement, so he just nodded as Kokichi grabbed his phone and showed him an apparently nice establishment. They walked down the streets, with Kokichi getting childishly excited as he gleefully pointed out various Christmas decorations to Shuuichi. They got to the beauty salon to find it was…very nice, as Kokichi had said, but it also looked extremely expensive. Shuuichi’s wallet hurt just looking at it.

It turned out to not be all that bad though, especially with Kokichi paying for half of it. Shuuichi might have even had enough left to go buy some nicer wrapping for it. He’d do that tomorrow, though. And so, he parted ways with Kokichi, who…blew him a kiss as he left, and got on the train home, feeling a lot less worn out than he had that morning.

Kiibo was…at a loss on the matter of what to get for his classes’ Secret Santa. He and Maki didn’t really speak all that much. Maki didn’t really speak with anyone, come to think of it. That struck Kiibo as rather odd. Maki was a child caretaker, and common sense said that if someone’s job is to take care of children, that they should be an open and friendly person, right? Logically someone as shy as Maki should have a lot of difficulty with children. Oh, maybe that would be a good idea for a present! A book on “How to Deal With Children as an Introvert”, or something along those lines.

No, that didn’t make sense. Maki was already amazing with kids, that was why she was at Hope’s Peak the first place. Getting her a book on kids would be a ridiculous idea. What was he even thinking?

Oh, but now he was back to square one, because he still didn’t have any idea what to get for Maki! He was at a complete loss…Maybe he should call Miu for help? He debated this for a while, weighing the possibility of help against the risk of Miu teasing him. Should he? Was it worth the risk?

“Hey Keebs, what’s up?” Miu’s voice chimed from over the line. It sounded like she was in the mall…so she probably already had an idea. Oh, she would definitely make fun of him if she did! Maybe he should pretend he’d called her on accident or something…

“Keebs? What’s wrong?” she asked as Kiibo could hear sleigh bells and chattering of the mall around her.

“Uh, well…I’m having a hard time coming up with a gift idea for Maki…Do you have an suggestions to help me?” He answered timidly.

“Huh? How the fuck would I know what you should get that emo freak!? Just go to the mall and find something!” She hollered into the receiver, having a hard time making her voice heard with all the commotion around her.

“But shouldn’t I have an idea of what I’m getting before I head to the mall…?” Kiibo asks in confusion.

“Fuck no! You go to the mall and figure out what you’re getting by looking around, dipshit! The only reason I’m not doing that is ‘cause I’m gonna Bakamatsu some awesome shit with my genius brain!” Kiibo…hadn’t been aware of this apparently obvious fact. He felt like melting into a puddle with embarrassment. How had he not known something so common and basic? At least, Miu was certainly making it sound like it was.

“But wait, if you’re making a gift, then why does it sound like you’re in the mall right now?” He asked as he prepared to head over to the mall himself.

“’Cause I gotta buy parts, duh!” She shouted in exasperation.

“Oh…um, are you going to be at the mall for a while?” He asks tentatively as he as he starts over to the front door.

“I dunno, depends how quick I can find my shit, why? Oh, I get it. You want me to help you find emo bitch a gift, right?” Kiibo flinches at the cruel nickname. He really doesn’t understand Miu’s need to make crude insults at every opportunity…

“Well, yes. Would that be ok with you?” He answers back to her.

“No prob, Keebs! I didn’t feel like getting work done today anyways.” Kiibo can’t tell whether or not that was meant to be sarcastic, but she doesn’t say anything else that could be interpreted as such as they make plans to meet up, so he decides to just ignore it. Somehow, he feels like Miu is going to be teaching him some things today…

Ugh, why did Tenko have to buy a present for some degenerate male!? Why couldn’t she have gotten a cute girl, like Himiko or Kaede!? Instead she was stuck with getting something for…*ugh*…Kaito. He would probably think that she got him something rude, once he found out that she’d gotten him something. Hah! She would show him! She’d get Kaito the best present ever! That’d show him for thinking of her like she was on the same level as some rude, disgusting boy!

And so, the next morning, she charged into the mall with a furious energy that could’ve melted all the snow in the neighborhood. The best. Present. Ever. She charged through the mall, not bothering for more than a second with anything that she didn’t consider the best. Which was almost everything, as it turned out. How was she supposed to show up that damn male if the stores didn’t sell anything good enough!? Ugh, it was all Kaito’s fault.

Ahah! Tenko remembered now! There was a gift shop at the planetarium! Perfect.

Thirty minutes later, Tenko reached her treasure trove. There, perched on the display window, sat the most gorgeous gift an awful, space-cadet male could hope to receive. Tenko ran in a snatched  the snow globe off of the shelf. Star-globe? No matter, that pathetic moron would definitely love it. She soon exited the store with her fabulous trinket. Really, it was such a pretty little thing. Tenko almost felt compelled to keep it for herself…but no, this was a gift. She wasn’t some cruel boy who stole people’s gifts for himself.

She briefly contemplated getting some special wrapping, just to show him up with how great it was. No, that awful boy would look at her handiwork and say something gross about her secretly having a soft side or something equally depraved. She bought a purple bag from the dollar store near the edge of the campus before heading back to the dorms. She took her time wrapping the paper tissue around it before shoving it into the bag and out of her way. There, now she didn’t have to think about anymore gross males on her Christmas holidays!...Well, until the Christmas party, anyways. It still counted.

ccxxv.

What kind of makeup do you think is appropriate for church? >> The kind that makes one the most comfortable to wear.

What would you wear to church? >> I wear anything I want to church. None of my clothes are blatantly inappropriate church attire except for a couple of band shirts.

Would/Do you like having brown eyes? >> Having brown eyes is fine with me.

Do you spend a lot of time on the internet? >> I sure do.

Could you live without the internet? >> I’d survive, I’m sure, but internet access enriches my life in ways that I find indispensable. I would be loath to give that up.

Have you bought anyone a Christmas gift? >> I bought three people Christmas gifts, and about ten people got cards.

Do you have a Christmas tree in your house now? >> Yes.

How do you feel when someone hates on Apple? >> Understanding.

Do you have an Iphone? If so, which one? >> I don’t.

Favorite flavor of jello? >> I like cherry.

I see. Do you have long toes? >> Not any longer than anyone else’s, I don’t think.

What’s something someone said to you that bothered you? >> I can’t remember anything off the top of my head.

What is one of your favorite compliments to receive? >> Anything regarding my fiction.

Do you compliment other random people? >> Occasionally.

Could you see yourself buying a truck as your go to vehicle? >> I could see that, yes.

What kind of car do you want? Something less than $100,000. >> A Tesla Model 3.

What kind of gift would you appreciate for your birthday? >> I’d appreciate being given a gift, period. Books are nice, if we must be specific.

Can you type fast? >> Sure.

Can you type without looking at the letters? >> Yes.

Did you take typing classes? >> I was self-taught. I think I might have had a few half-hearted attempts at typing classes in my school career, but I didn’t pay them much attention since I already knew how.

What do you use Facebook for? >> Lately, as a meme repository (and a login device, since a lot of websites have that “login through facebook” feature and I’ve used it enough times that keeping an account is necessary). I find a lot of things about facebook -- format wise and content wise -- to be more trouble than it’s worth.

What do you look like in your profile picture? >> On facebook? I look like me sitting by the river.

Do you love cartoons? >> Sure.

Name a band that you like. >> Vanden Plas.

Name a band you don’t like. >> Mumford & Sons.

Name a genre of music you don’t like? >> Bluegrass.

What genre of music do you listen to around the house? >> No specific genre.

You think it’s wrong to tell a person ____. >> That they should off themselves because of some perceived moral failing.

What kind of compliments have you given? >> No specific kind.

Would you rather give or receive? >> ---

Do you paint your own nails? >> Yes.

Do you like acrylic nails? >> No.

What is your favorite red lipstick? >> I don’t have one.

What are your favorite colors to wear? >> Black, gold, green.

What colors do you NOT wear? >> I don’t wear white, but that’s mostly because wearing white makes me paranoid about getting it dirty. I think black people in white is a compelling aesthetic. Maybe I’ll get over the paranoia one day.

Where do you shop for most of clothes? >> Amazon, Hot Topic, Rue 21-type stores, Plato’s Closet, thrift shops.

What are your favorite clothing stores/shops? >> I don’t know if I have any. All clothing stores manage to disappoint me in some way eventually.

What kind of shoes do you like? >> Boots.

Describe your style in one word. >> Eclectic.

Describe your current personality in one or two words. >> I’m not sure I can do that.

What is your opinion on weed? >> I enjoy it and I think other people should be able to enjoy it (or abstain from it) at their leisure.

Are you afraid of child birth/pregnancy? >> Yes, which is why I refuse to experience it.

What are your favorite bottoms to wear? >> Pajama bottoms, rave pants, Gap jeans, long layered skirts.

Do you like dresses? >> I do, but I’m particular about the kinds I’ll wear.

Would you rather be called a geek, a nerd or a dork? >> It doesn’t matter to me.

Do you eat cake with a spoon or a fork? >> Some with a fork, some with a spoon. Depends on the consistency of the cake.

What age will you be next? >> 31.

Did you graduate high school? >> I did.

Do you make youtube videos? If so, leave your URL >> I used to take video surveys. That was wild.

Do you flat iron your hair? >> No.

What physical features do you wish you had? ( name 2 ). >> Ram horns and a big dick.

Would you ever get plastic cosmetic surgery? >> Probably not. (Also, I’m being facetious about the big dick. It just sounded funny. Dead ass serious about the ram horns, though.)

Ever broken a bone? >> No.

What are your favorite youtube videos to watch? >> Music videos, Honest Trailers, and stuff like School of Life.

What is your favorite sex position? ;) >> Definitely missionary.

Do you like red lipstick? >> Sure.

What color will you paint your nails next? >> I don’t know yet. I need some new colours. I desperately need a good vibrant shimmery gold.

What is one of your favorite Disney movies? >> Hunchback of Notre Dame.

If you could meet a real life Disney character who would it be? >> Tia Dalma, hands down.

Are you afraid of ghosts/hauntings? >> No.

Do you like to play computer games a lot? >> Yes.

Are you a sore loser? >> Not usually.

What is your favorite game to play with family/friends? >> ---

What is your beer of choice? >> I’ll always go for something by Founder’s, Abita, or Leinenkugel.

What do you plan to buy next? >> Probably groceries, and maybe a couple of things for my room.

Do you like shopping? >> Not especially, but I try to find ways to make it less boring/aggravating.

What is one of your favorite things to do on the weekend? >> Hm.

Here, I’m giving you $500 dollars to one store, where would you spend it? >> Let’s just go for Amazon and call it a day.

Would you look good in a Beatle car? >> I’d look good in any kind of car, I’m sure.

Do you play slug bug? >> Sometimes.

What kind of computer are on? >> Normandy is a Lenovo IdeaPad.

You are attracted to ___. >> Where do I even begin.

Do you like glitter? >> I like looking at it sometimes, but I don’t like having it all over me (which is what inevitably happens any time you even think about glitter).

Have you ever owned a Quija board? >> No.

Do you like to text? >> Meh. I prefer instant messaging, especially since that means I can use my computer keyboard.

If you had to be an animal for Halloween, what would it be? >> Let’s stay on-brand and go with spider.

Do you have more dry skin or oily skin? >> Dry.

What kind of shampoo do you use? Be specific. >> I use OGX’s teatree and mint conditioner.

Do you have acne? >> No.

You’re glad that you don’t ___. >> have to do anything specific tomorrow.

You’re glad that you do ___. >> have a new library book to read.

Your favorite cuss word? >> I guess “fuck”.

Are you obsessed with any superheros? >> I’m really into Doc Strange.

Do you read comic books? >> Sure.

Do you like the Sunday paper and why or why not? >> I have no opinion on the Sunday papers.

Do you have cable? >> No.

What’s a show you wish that was still on air? >> I wish Carnivale had gotten to run its full course.

Do you listen to the radio at all? >> Not unless it’s playing in the car.

Do you like hip hop? >> Sure do.

Do you like pretzels? >> The big soft ones. But I’ll eat a few of the small crunchy ones too, if they’re there.

Do you like snow? >> Yeah.

What’s your favorite thing about your favorite season? Name the season. >> I am currently in the market for a new favourite season.

Name something that starts with the first letter of your first name. >> Ley lines.

Name something that starts with the first letter of your middle name? >> Frogs.

And your lastname. >> Dryads.

Do you have pets? If so, what and what are their names? >> I personally don’t, no.

You want your next pet to be what? >> I’m not even sure I personally like the idea of pets anymore. (Human ones aside, I suppose--)

Are you a religious person? >> Yes.

Do you like pina coladas? >> I’ve never had one.

Do you like coconut scents? >> BPAL’s Elegba fragrance has coconut in it, and at first I was like “hrm...” but it works. Anyway, I like coconut circumstantially. Sometimes it’s just too much, but sometimes it just works.

What is your favorite Bath and Body Works candles? >> ---

Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle? >> Eh, I can get candles I like for cheaper than that, so probably not.

What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? >> I’m not sure.

Do you look in the mirror a lot? >> Nah.

Do you brush your teeth twice a day everyday? >> No, once.

What brand of toothpaste do you use? >> Tom’s of Maine.

What is a dessert that you DON’T like? >> Chocolate cake.

And one that you love? >> Tiramisu. --Dammit, I accidentally left the rest of my tiramisu and Chinese food at Sparrow’s parents’ house! >:|

Twilight or Harry Potter? >> I prefer HP to Twilight.

Would you rather be a vampire or a mermaid? >> I don’t think either of those would suit me very well.

About how many times do you fart in a day? >> I mean, I don’t count or anything.

I see… well… what is your favorite angry music? >> I don’t know.

Do you have a favorite number? >> Nine...? You know, I think I’m just going to settle on nine for a number. It’s eight plus one (and eight is my dad’s number, so that makes a kind of sense), and it’s in nineteen, and there are some mythological connotations to consider. Eight’s a really good number too, though. But maybe I’ll go with nine. Nine will be mine.

Had a crush on somebody that every1 around u thought was ugly? >> Sure.

Are you happy with your physical features? >> Most of the time.

P.E or Math? >> Math.

Math or Science? >> Hm.

Creative Writing or Art? >> Creative Writing.

When you doodle, what are you usually doodling? >> Spirals, shapes. Little dancing stick figures.

What is something that you like that is really cheap in price? >> Incense from Sleeping Bear or whatever the name of that mall store is.

What is something that you like that is kind of expensive? >> Travel.

What do you do when someone is really rude to you in public? >> Depends on where my head is at. I’ve done everything from laugh to ignore to fly off the handle.

Do you argue with your significant other a lot? >> No.

Have you ever had a really painful breakup? >> Yes.

Which is better smoking or vaping? >> I assume vaping is less risky.

Do you write in print or cursive? >> Mostly print, for legibility, but I enjoy writing in script.

Do you have neat handwriting? >> It’s gotten less neat over the years, since I’m always on the computer. But it’s still quite legible most of the time, I think. I just have to get the fluidity back into it.

What do you like to write with? >> Pentel Flair type pens.

Do you keep a journal/diary? >> I keep a dreamwidth, and sometimes I even update it.

You should. Do you eat salads? >> Yes.

What do you like in your salad? If you do. If not, what is 1+1? >> Multiple types of greens, a bit of vinaigrette, a little feta, something crunchy like onion or celery or chip shards or small crackers. Pieces of apple is nice too.

If you HAD to change your eyecolor, what would you change it to? >> Hazel.

What would you not change it to? >> Blue. Although it’d be funny from a Deschain point of view.

What is one of your favorite colors? >> Dusky purple.

Do you prefer to be pale or tan? Don’t say in between. >> I definitely prefer being dark.

Favorite thing to do on your phone? >> Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, Bejeweled, reading ebooks.

What magazines do you like? >> New Scientist and Revolver.

What is your favorite book? >> I can’t possibly choose anymore.

What is your favorite thing about Christmas? >> The music.

I’m giving a ticket to wherever you want, where would you go? >> New Orleans.

Here’s $5, what do you do with it? >> Right now, nothing. I’d probably use it for a snack at the gas station during one of my walks.

Cool. Cool. Favorite flavor of Ice Cream? >> Butter pecan, I guess.

Least favorite flavor of ice cream? >> Anything chocolate.

Do you prefer white or black electronics? >> Black.

What is your favorite deodorant? >> I like the smell of my lavender one.

Are you a good kisser ( make out )? >> I like to think so.

A stranger comes up to you and gives you a big hug, what do you do? >> Recoil and fight my way out of it.

Do your eyes tear up when you’re nervous? >> No.

Have you ever gotten the shakes in public? >> Sure.

What do you like to order from Starbucks? >> Eh.

Vanilla or Chocolate? >> Vanilla.

Apples or Bananas? >> Apples.

Fruit or Veggies? >> Veggies.

Water or Milk? >> Water.

Regular Milk or Chocolate Milk? >> Regular, if I must.

Would you milk a cow given the chance? >> I’d have to at least try it.

What kind of underwear do you like? >> The kind that doesn’t give me a wedgie or some other kind of discomfort. (That’s... harder to do than it seems. A lot of underwear styles don’t sit right on me for some reason. Sparrow says it’s because my butt’s big. Probably.)

Where do you shop for your underwear? >> I don’t have a specific place.

Chicken or Fish? >> Fish.

Firm pillow or soft pillow? >> I prefer it to be a little firm.

What are you wearing when you go to sleep? >> Usually a t-shirt and pj pants, in this season.

Do you take any meds? If so which and why? >> No.

Do you like this survey? >> Sure, it was fine.

AT THE URBAN OUTFITTERS

     I feel like so many people complain (myself included) about how, oh, they don’t make em like they used to, everything is made for cheap now… but has Urban Outfitters gotten better? Or am I just appreciating it more now because I’m older?      But it’s not a grasping-onto-the-past thing (we’re well into the 21st century now, feels like we’re looking forward not back now), Forever 21 thing. First of all I was never urban anyway. The Urban Outfitters I went to growing up was in a totally 90s mall (okay, still looking back a little), and the best item I bought from it was a maroon Cambridge University t-shirt, that had the school coat of arms on it. I member once I wore it to a concert (which concert?… something indie… quickly sounding more and more pretentious) and a girl leaned over and asked if I had gone to Cambridge, and the concert was in Boston and I could tell she thought it was Cambridge, Mass, and she was nervous and trying to make small talk, and I had to tell her it was Cambridge, England. Which kind of makes me hate the shirt just for that, but I still love it. It became a hole-y shirt… had a bunch of holes in it. For years I couldn’t throw it away, ten bucks at Urban. (Do people call it Urban?) I dream of finding the same shirt again somewhere. I’ve searched online. Left posters on telephone poles.       Today when I went… well it seems less cheap is what I was saying. It basically used to just seem like a glorified thrift store, didn’t it? Or am I thinking of Hot Topic? No, pretty sure I’m thinking of Urban. Now it’s all Polaroid cameras and records and floral rompers and Champion hoodies. (Okay, okay, we’re still all very much dwelling in the past, if we can’t make it sound better by saying everything old is new again.) They even had scrunchies, sold in sets of four for twelve dollars, which I was tempted to get as a stocking stuffer.       Not saying I don’t buy a lot of stuff all the time, but I really have to have a magical connection with something for me to buy it. I have to look at it and say YES. With clothes in particular. The thing has to have integrity and nostalgia. It has to make me let down my guard as a shopper. I stared at the scrunchies for a good five seconds, connecting with them, bent down and looked at them, and then thought, no, my sister probably won’t wear them. But god if she would I would definitely buy them. A lot of the stuff of course I wouldn’t be caught dead in. My baseline as a human being who wears clothes is a plain white t-shirt that you can get in packs of six for ten dollars at Target. Around these t-shirts revolve, you know, some pants and some choice underwear. And a few good pairs of pajama bottoms and shorts… some sweatshirts… let’s see, sweaters. Pretty much everything, I guess. (No overalls, sadly.) But I swear that the white t-shirt is my baseline, it’s my blank canvas where I can start to add other colors in.       I’m actually wearing, as I write this, a plain white t-shirt and some Rugrats dinosaur boxer-briefs that I got from Urban Outfitters. The boxer-briefs were, again, twelve dolares. I’ve had them for a few months and you’ll be happy to know, so far they’re great. I always used to just wear regular old boxers, but these boxer-briefs, they’re pretty nice. They have a snugness and like a suctioning that I like. Everything is where it should be. Little kids probably make these in Temple of Doom conditions in Southeast Asia and I’m writing about my newfound preference for boxer-briefs. The mind reels. Seriously, how many little fingers were lost in making these? Women want blood diamonds… how fitting is that for a relationship?      They sell old Sega Genesises. I almost wanted to weep in front of the box. I don’t know if I’d play it if I got it, but just holding it and having it close by would have given me strength. There was a picture of a model in a bikini or lingerie, not today but the time I went before, when I got the Rugrats boxer-briefs, and I know it’s all glammed and glossed but the picture was of her turned around and I almost pouted, I did pout, as a full-grown adult, the one thing that can make me pout, as I walked up the stairs by the picture. That alone makes 2017 going on 18 better than things used to be. I guess girls didn’t wear them anyway but I hope JNCO jeans never come back.       Are we all becoming better though? Are our tastes becoming more refined? Are we becoming more fully human, as the years go by? Have our pleasures deepened? Are we still so connected to the past, despite our fractured attention spans? Going on a trip to Urban Outfitters, everything would say yes. 

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In the dead of night ages before the Web, finding that wonderful designer piece of vintage clothes was like searching for the proverbial needle in a giant, messy thrift store haystack. I really want to know how the choice was made to market the current scent as Z-14 (although I’m glad they went on this unusual path)! It could possibly last for a number of hours, even in a shiny summer season day. Colognes can last for decades after being opened. Warning: often calculation outcomes might be incorrect. Because cologne oil attaches to polymers within the pores and skin, weather can impact the depth of expression. What rental automobile companies have counters at Cologne Airport? Cologne would not have to be expensive to odor great. The fragrance of cologne varies from individual to particular person as the kind of skin and body determines the fragrance of the cologne or deodorants. The projection is just not overbearing, it’s Good as an in depth encounters fragrance.

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Punk (Chap. 3)

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 3324 (I know, long.  But it’s because idk when I’m gonna have more time to write the next chapterssss)

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N:  I’m overwhelmed with the feedback on the first 2 chapters!  love you guys and i can only hope to live up to your expectations with this and all future installments!

If there was one thing you hated more than anything else in the world it was clothes shopping.  OK, that’s not entirely true.  Hydra was definitely up there…and commercials’ whose volume was louder than the show you were just watching so you had the crap scared out of you by some lady who was dancing and trying to get you to buy tampons so you’d ‘have a happy period’ (no such thing)… you really hated when you stepped in puddle on the kitchen floor while only wearing socks…any sort of insect…when you bought a book series but, for some unfathomable reason, the individual books weren’t the same height, because that’s just ridiculous.  Why would anyone think it’d be acceptable to have books 1, 2, 3, and 4 to all line up perfectly on the shelf then have 5 be slightly taller only to then revert back to the original proportions for 6 and 7?!  It’s was utter nonsense and the people responsible for inflicting such depravity on the literary world should—

Rap! Rap! Rap!  “Get dressed!”  Nat hollered from the other side of the dressing room door.  “I’m going to pay for these.  Meet me at the register.”  The clinking of hangers and rustling of clothing signalled her departure as you hopped back into your jeans and slipped your “Talk Wookie to me” T-shirt back on.  You let out a sigh at your reflection.  Can’t wear this anymore, you thought dejectedly. It was your favourite shirt. Faded, thin, and baggy from having been thrown into the wash so many times it was a shadow of what it once was.

But this was your decision.  You asked—begged—Natasha to get you some girlier clothes, and that she did.  Though she had to drag you through the stores kicking and screaming. She was a real trooper.  She’d found things that emphasized the boobs you don’t have, and dresses that cinched to give you some semblance of hips and a waist, and there were heels—God, where there heels.  Heels with pointy toes and heels with opened toes.  Heels with straps to hold you in and heels without straps designed for you to fall out.  And the pants—why were they so freakin’ tight?  Your legs felt like they’d been sausage wrapped.  How were you supposed to sit or breathe or eat?  And why was your underwear always showing when you sat down?  And how come all those shirts were so flimsy and short and see through?  You had to buy second shirt just to wear under the first one!  The injustice!

But it really didn’t matter what she had picked out; you felt like wolf in sheep’s clothing nonetheless.  Even when Natasha swore up and down that you looked nice in everything you tried on, you couldn’t see it. You believed what your eyes showed you, not what your friend said.  You could still see the fat rolls fighting straining fabrics, pulling at the seams. Nothing looked like how you’d imagined it in your head.  And everything just seemed too tight and uncomfortable.  And though you were trying on clothes, you couldn’t help but feel naked and exposed as you glared at your reflection in the floor-length mirror.

With a heavy sigh, you trudged from the dressing room to meet Natasha.  She handed you back the receipt and your credit card and you almost passed out in the middle of the mall.   “This is obscene!  This is a down payment on car or a home or a kid!”

“Could’ve just made Tony pay for it,” Nat sing-songed.

“No, no one can know about this!”  

“Oh, yeah, because you suddenly walking around like Malibu Barbie won’t be suspicious at all.”

“Shut up, Natasha.”

Being the incredibly skilled spy that she was, Natasha managed to sneak you back into tower without running into anyone besides F.R.I.D.A.Y who didn’t really count as a person and who didn’t really care about operation-get-Bucky-to-fall-madly-in-love-with-you.  Natasha didn’t know about the name…

Your bedroom was down the same hallway as Bucky’s and Steve’s, past the kitchen, but closest to the side balcony where Tony had set up a little garden.  You liked to go there and read.  Or sit in the sun with your fat black cat, Ferdinand, who liked to chase butterflies and lounge in patches of sunlight.  And occasionally you’d wander out there to feed the pigeons which you and Bucky had dubbed “Sam’s babies” after you two had lured him out there, thrown a loaf of Italian bread out after him, and locked the door.  He’d shrieked “Rat’s with wings!” for days afterwards, jumped whenever someone cooed, and twitched whenever a bird flew past a window.

But you didn’t have time for those sorts of shenanigans anymore, you thought wistfully as you flung the shopping bags into the closet, slammed the door, and listened to the bags crash against it.  You’d clean it up later…probably…

A knock sounded at the door.  “Yeah?” you called as you pushed against the closet door and glared, practically daring it to open and release the mess from within.  

“Hey, Punk,” Bucky said as he stepped over the threshold.  Punk.  Ugh.  What? No, hey Y/N, you’re looking exceptionally spectacular today.  And by the way I love you.  He eyed the shirt he’d seen you in a thousand times before and gave you a smirk.

“Hey, BB,” you replied with an embarrassed tug at your collar; it was the little pet name you had for him and only you got away with using it.  Peter had tried once and ended up getting shoved off the end of the couch rather unceremoniously.  “What’s up?” Bucky made himself comfortable on your unmade bed and, as it usually did when Bucky sat in your room, heat crept up your neck as your brain exploded with thoughts of oh my god he’s in my bed, he’s in my bed!

Ferdinand, as he was prone to do, interrupted Bucky before he could speak, chirruped and snuck out from having been hibernating in the dusty, dark corners under the bed for the majority of the day.  He wound his way through Bucky’s legs and rubbed his face all over his boots.  “Hey, Ferd,” Bucky chuckled, scratching the cat’s ears.  Ferdinand purred like a motor boat and flopped onto his back, exposing his belly.  Having fallen prey more than once to this so called show of submission, Bucky leaned over and rubbed Ferdinand’s tummy with his metal arm.  Ferd pounced, claws and fangs extended, but not even the ferocious tenacity of a house cat could dent that metal and he huffed and hopped onto the bed, content with leaning against the soldier’s thigh and falling asleep.  Bucky chuckled and pet his fur.  You smiled.  Ferdinand, like his owner, loved Bucky, though he was far more comfortable showing it.  You often found them snuggling in the living room and, though he denied it, you were pretty sure Bucky slipped Ferd table scraps and was the one who got him hooked on catnip…

“What’s up?” you repeated.  The awkward silence had extended long enough for your liking.

“Nothin’ much.  Jus’ wonderin’ if you wanted ta come train.  I’m meetin’ the rest of the boys down there in a few,” he said pulling the first stuffed animal he could find onto his lap where he tugged absentmindedly at its ears.  The movement caught your attention and you groaned inwardly. Ugh!  You’re stupid bed.  Grown women had tasteful throw pillows and bed skirts…and sheets!  Your room looked like the love child of a frat boy and the winner of a Dungeons and Dragons game.  Nobody would walk into your room and think; hmm I bet some sexy supermodel lives here.  No.  Their first thought would be; please find the twelve year old boy who lives here and introduce him to a vacuum cleaner!

Distractedly, you looked around the room.  It was your safe place…or at least it used to be. Where you could be Y/N.  Where it was okay to have movie posters and memorabilia, where your costumed jewellery could be displayed like the Crown Jewels, where each video game system had a place and shelf, where the DVDs took up a book case all their own, where fantasy books could fill all the crannies and all the nooks.  And though he’d been in here a thousand times before, Bucky’s presence, all of the sudden, made you embarrassed of this place and everything in it.  Ashamed of everything that you loved because it wasn’t ‘cool’ enough, wasn’t ‘feminine’ enough, wasn’t ‘good’ enough…not for Bucky.

This room wasn’t like Natasha’s or Wanda’s. It wasn’t a woman’s room.  It didn’t have a woman’s touch, or smell, or style.  Instead it was filled with toys and posters and the sheets clashed with the pillow cases.   Nat’s room, when not being taken over by Clint and his mess, was filled with guns and knives and grown-up books like “Zen and the Art of Assassination” and “How to Build Your Own Supercomputer without Really Trying”.  Her room had candles and art.  Real art. The stuff they hang up in museums. Paintings of cottages and fairies painted by old, dead, Italian guys.  The pictures on her wall weren’t purchased at Comic Con.  And Wanda’s room didn’t look like it was designed from a page in the kids section of the IKEA catalogue.  The Sokovian’s bedroom was filled with puffy cushions and potted plants.  Everything was soft and pale and radiated warmth. Her style was minimalist.  Things looked clean; her room was clean.  She actually vacuumed. And dusted!  She used coasters!  Her furniture matched; she’d bought a bedroom set.  You, on the other hand, bought your night table from the thrift store and paid some college kid three hundred bucks for your mattress after hitting the first link you found on Craig’s List.

“Hell-oo?” Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your musings.

“Yeah, hi, sorry.  Huh?  What’s up?” you gushed, Good.  No, that’s good, not at all weird.

Bucky smirked and you wanted to smack his stupid, beautiful face.  “I asked if ya wanted ta come train but ya spaced out.”

“I did not.”

“Did too. Thinkin’ about Star Wars again?”

“No.”  Though the new move was spectacular.

“That show with the dragons?”

“Game of Thrones, you know what it’s called you watched it with me.  And no.” You pulled the stuffed animal from his hands and tossed it on the chair where you’d piled up all of the freshly laundered clothes you hadn’t bothered to put away for three days.  Ferdinand opened one eye and gave you a nasty look. Apparently the movement had disturbed him.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky said with exaggerated understanding.  “The one with the naked people!  Is that what you were thinkin’ about?  Porn?” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly and gave you sly grin before swiping his tongue over his lips.

“No!” you yelped loudly.  That little tease of tongue got you all flustered.    “I wasn’t!” Great, now he thinks I’m lying.

He blew out a disbelieving puff of air from his nose and said sarcastically.  “Sure, sure.”

Your face heated up as if you were standing in front of an oven and you were pretty sure that he could see sweat stains forming underneath your arm pits.  You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed, “Really, I wasn’t!” 

Bucky, with a mysterious gleam in his eye, cocked his beautiful head to the side in thought.  He’d recently cut his once long hair into a shorter more modern do that left a layer of soft, dark curls on top that made your fingers twitch with desire to card through.  He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.  You wouldn’t think about that stuff at all.”

The fuck that’s supposed to mean? You felt your eyes widen fractionally with shock and your brain went into overdrive coming up with interpretations to what Bucky could’ve possibly meant.  What, fat girls can’t think about sex? Is that too repulsive of a thought? To think that someone who doesn’t have a body like a porn star could ever fathom getting down and dirty?  You could be dirty.  Hell, the things you imagined doing with Bucky, doing to Bucky were downright sinful.  NC-17.  Rated XXX. Not suitable for all audiences.  The things you pictured he could do with those hands, that mouth, that body.  Oh lordy, you spent many sleepless nights with visions of you two perfectly entwined, writhing together, gasping for air, moaning in ecstasy.  

The silence stretched on for what felt like eons before Bucky slapped his palms on his knees, irritating Ferd who yawned and crawled up to sit on your pillows, and got back to his feet.  “You okay, Punk?” He asked gently.  The way his voice lowered in a soft whisper seemingly full of concern had your heart fluttering like a hummingbirds.  But then he had to go and ruin it with that stupid nickname.  The nickname that didn’t relay any hint of affection.  Punk punk punk punk.

“Yeah, just tired,” you lied.  “I was shopping with Natasha all morning.”

“We went over this; no more books until you get another shelf.”  He motioned to the pile of books you’d arranged next to your bed since you’d run out of room on the book cases. 

You smirked.  He had a point.  “We were clothes shopping, B.”

Bucky blinked his big, beautiful eyes stupidly at you.  “What? Why?  You hate clothes shopping.  You never go clothes shopping.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically.  “I buy clothes.  I need clothes.”  He glanced at the mountain of folded clothes on the chair and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Different clothes.”  

“What’s wrong with the ones you got?”

Everything. So many things.  They’re wrong.  “Nothing, just—I dunno, tryin’ somethin’ different, that’s all.”  It came out all mumbled and you refused to look him in the eye, instead watching your slipper clad foot graze the hardwood floor.  Maybe you hadn’t thought all this stuff through quite right.  Yeah, you wanted him to notice a change, why the hell otherwise wold you blow an entire pay check on a bunch of getups you didn’t even like? But you didn’t think he’d notice. Like ask questions.  You thought it would be like in those teen movies where you walked down the stars looking all lust worthy and he’d stand there, mouth agape, at a loss for words by your breath-taking transformation into a certified bombshell.  But noooooo. You hadn’t even put anything on and he was suspicious of you.  Asking questions.  Already looking freaked out.  Faaaaacccckk. 

“Okay, I was—” but he didn’t finish his sentence as his phone buzzed in his pocket.  “Sorry,” he said, picking up the device and looking at the screen.  

You smiled, remembering it was you who had taught him how to operate it.  You’d found him a ringtone and showed him how to set up backgrounds, even forcing him to take a selfie with you and making it your icon for when you called him. Vaguely, you wondered if he still had it or if he’d decided to go back to leaving it blank, instead of having to look at your abominable face.

“Change of plans, we’re goin’ for a run instead,” Bucky grinned.  “Relax, you’re off the hook.  I’ve seen ya run,” he laughed lightly.

Um, what? What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Sure, you despised running in every form and you didn’t exactly keep quiet about it.  But that didn’t mean you couldn’t do it, maybe not very fast or for very long, but that was beside the point; you could run.  Immediately you became self-conscious.  ‘I’ve seen ya run’.  Oh god, did he see your thighs jiggle with every heavy step as you practically Hulk-stomped the pavement?  Did he notice the slight waddle you did as your legs shook with the effort to keep pace?  For the love of all things holy, please don’t say he noticed your thighs rubbing together or how you’d have to stop to pull up your leggings as your muffin top bounced loose and pushed the fabric down and under the roll.  Subtly, you pulled on your shirt to make it baggier, so as not to emphasise the fat underneath.  

“Anyway, I gotta go, Punk.  We’re goin’ out tonight.  ‘Round ten.  You in?” He asked.   

You weren’t up for a repeat of last night. Your self-esteem was already shot to shit and if you had to watch another flawless woman wrap herself around Bucky you might just spontaneously combust in a jealous rage or attack any woman within a ten foot radius of Bucky like a rabid dog.  You sighed heavily.  Just the image of Bucky with someone else had you feeling uglier by the minute.  

“Uh, no thanks.” 

“Really?  Again? You always come out with us,” he argued.

“I have plans already,” you lied.  “With, uh, Nat and Wanda.  Girls Nite.  We’re goin’ out.”  Lie.  Lie. That’s a lie.

Bucky nodded, lips pursed in amusement.  “Since when do you do ‘Girls Nite’?”  He made the finger quotes in mid-air.  

His incessant questioning was getting on your nerves.  You hadn’t planned on having to come up with so many lies so early in the game.  This isn’t how it is in the movies!  The dude isn’t supposed to ask so many questions!  Just accept the metamorphosis and move on! You replied, annoyed with his over emphasis on ‘you’. “You don’t know everything about me, Bucky.” Oh, yeah! Be a lil’ sassy!  Be mysterious!  Natasha’s gonna be so proud.

Bucky smiled at that.  “I know more than ya think, Punk.”  He gave you a wink and your heart dropped into your butt.  Oh god, does he know?  Please don’t know.  I’m not ready, I’m not ready.  I haven’t practiced what to say or do, I was gonna make a speech and, fuck, I’m wearing this stupid fucking shirt— “Alright, I’ll see ya at dinner then. We’re orderin’ Chinese and rumour has it that there’s pie for desert,” he teased and gave you a poke to the ribs that made you squirm away, not wanting him to prod the blubber. 

Ugh, he knows I eat!  But, fuck, I do love pie.

“See ya later,” and he clapped you on the shoulder and strutted out the door.  Mm mm mm!  That walk!  He was a typical ‘hate to see ya go but love to watch ya leave’ kinda guy.  The sexy lean, the hip swivel, and hot damn that ass! You could watch Bucky strut his stuff all day long.  He was one fine piece of man-candy.

You shook your whole body like a dog shaking off water. Calm yourself, woman!  Be cool. Be cool.  Once the Bucky fog lifted, you couldn’t help but dwell on your conversation and the conclusions you had drawn, mainly that you were fat and ugly and decidedly not sexy.  It wasn’t news to you, but the fact that Bucky was even minutely aware of any of those things made you want to fling yourself in front of a bus…at least then your stomach might be flat.

And thinking of that, you looked down at your Pillsbury Doughboy tummy and poked it angrily.  “Go away,” you scolded it.  “You ruin everything.”

With a deep, resigned sigh you gave up and changed into workout clothes, keeping your back to Ferdinand so as not to give the little perv a chance to oogle. Maybe some kickboxing would make you feel better.  You could imagine your face on the bag as you punched away.  And while you were at it you could talk yourself into a night on the town—OH MY GOD I DIDN’T TELL NAT AND WANDA!

You raced out of your room, hoping that Bucky hadn’t already run into either woman and mention the plans you’d made for them without their knowledge…Operation-get-Bucky-to-fall-madly-in-love-with-you turning out to be a lot more complicated than you had originally thought.

TAG LIST:  strike-through means the tag doesn’t seem to work.  If your tag doesn’t work for some reason, send me a message and I’ll take a look.

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