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cookies-over-yonder · 11 months

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trick or treat!

CO-WRITTEN BY @silverlistenstothings

Part 23 of The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates

The teens go trick or treating!

✧*.♡.*✧

DnDads Halloween Week Day 7: Trick or Treating!

ao3

Taylor and Hermie are both sitting in the living room when the doorbell rings. Taylor instantly tries to get up to answer it, but he still has a bag of candy in his lap and ends up knocking his cane to the floor in his effort to grab it. Hermie stands up instead, returning his cane to its place against the couch as they do.

“I’ve got it,” Hermie says, sauntering over to the door with all the confidence they don’t really feel.

It’s not like the Cast’s arrival was a surprise; Taylor had been planning this all month. Hermie was even part of the group chat where it all went down, even if they very rarely decided to speak in it. It’s just that they aren’t necessarily looking forward to seeing them all at once. They still have a lot of mixed feelings about the lot of them, and with all five of them in the same place at the same time, Hermie was even more likely to be pushed to the side. For all the extra pressure of a one-on-one interaction, they greatly prefer it to being ignored.

Regardless of their feelings, Hermie’s fate has been sealed for some time now, and they open the door with minimal hesitation.

Scary had given both Normal and Link a ride, meaning all three of them were waiting on the porch. Scary is dressed up in a black and red modern bastardization of Victorian fashion, all corsets and lace and a cape drawn around her shoulders. She's got glittering black lipstick, and red face paint at the edges of her mouth dripping down to her chin. She's wearing bluish blush on her cheeks to make her skin look ashen, but the bright red eyeshadow definitely makes her look a little more alive.

“Hermie, you look great!” Normal exclaims, drawing their attention.

All and all, Normal doesn’t look all that different than usual in his Teeny mascot suit, but upon closer inspection, Hermie notices several patches of discoloured fabric. It looks like sections of the costume were cut out and replaced, stitches hidden and then gone over with dark, thick thread to create an exaggerated Frankenstein patchwork. The added colours clash in a way that manages to look purposeful, and it’s a perfect Halloween addition to the already-horrific Teeny.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Hermie admits, reluctantly impressed by the handiwork.

“Oh! Really? You think so? Hero helped me pick out fabric, but I did all the design and sewing myself!” Normal brags, bouncing on his feet. He excitedly shakes out the floppy mascot hand that isn’t holding Teeny’s head against his hip.

“Can we come in?” Link interrupts, which Hermie is actually very grateful for, for once. He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants in stark contrast to the others, but Hermie has been hearing all month about the costume Taylor's planned for the two of them, so they know what's coming.

“Scary’s the vampire here, you don’t have to ask permission,” Hermie says, stepping aside to allow them to pass.

“Link!” Taylor cheers from the couch, and Link lights up immediately at the sound of his voice.

“Taylor!” Link greets, matching his affection, if not necessarily his enthusiasm.

“Gross,” Hermie mumbles, rolling their eyes as they return to the couch.

“I guess we’re too old for it, but I still kinda wish we were going trick-or-treating,” Taylor sulks, continuing to mournfully sort through the bag of candy, snagging what he wants to keep and dumping the rest into a seasonally-appropriate bowl. Hermie leans over his shoulder, picking out some sour candies and stashing them in their own pockets.

"I've actually never been trick-or-treating," Link says, and considering his parents, Hermie supposes that makes sense.

"Me neither," they chime in absentmindedly.

It wasn’t a big concern for them after a couple of years of begging their parents and getting nothing but dismissive scoffs and annoyed looks for it. Once they were old enough to go out on their own, they figured they were too old for trick-or-treating anyways. Besides, in all the shows and movies they had their parents or friends accompanying them, and Hermie going out completely alone just seemed pathetic… and a bit scary, at the time. Which made it even more pathetic.

" What!? " Taylor shouts, startling everyone, it seems. "Okay, new plan, we are going trick-or-treating now ."

“What?” Scary groans, and Hermie is inclined to agree.

“It’s not a big deal,” Hermie sighs. Really, they should have expected this reaction. “You said it yourself; we’re too old for it now.”

“Well, it’s different now! We’re only getting older and you have to go trick-or-treating at least once!” Taylor insists.

“I really don’t think I do, actually,” Hermie says.

“I think it’d be fun! Nobody actually cares about how old we are, you know?” Normal joins in, smiling.

“I do,” Scary argues. “So fucking lame.”

“I don’t know, it kinda does sound fun…” Link says, and Hermie knows it’s over.

Hermie and Scary can both whine as much as they’d like, but they don’t stand a chance against the combined force of Taylor, Normal, and Link’s pleading. Hermie probably couldn’t say no to any of them individually, or anyone in general, because they’re pathetic.

“Hermie!” Taylor demands when there’s no further complaints. “Go retrieve the trick-or-treating thingies!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about or where they are,” Hermie sighs.

“The bags! I should have enough for everyone, but they won’t match our costumes…”

“Still don’t know where those are, and also I don’t want to.” Hermie slumps further into the couch, waving a hand dismissively.

Taylor mumbles a couple of displeased nonsense noises, but stands up and heads towards the basement.

“Everyone get your costumes ready! We’re doing this!” Taylor announces, pointing towards the others in the living room as he takes one backwards step down the stairs.

“Turn around, idiot!” Hermie calls.

Taylor makes a loud mocking noise, but obediently turns around anyways as he descends the stairs.

“Do we have to do this?” Scary sighs once Taylor is out of sight.

“I’d really rather not,” Hermie agrees, even as they straighten out the lapels of their suit and shift away the worst of their inhuman features.

“It’ll be fun! And we don’t have to stay out for long if it isn’t,” Normal says, returning the modified head of Teeny to its rightful place upon his shoulders.

Hermie feels like they should continue to protest, something about Taylor’s stubborn streak and how likely it is that he’ll refuse to turn back before he’s satisfied, but they know it’s an argument they’ll end up losing, assuming anyone even pays attention to them for that long.

Taylor scurries back up the stairs, several Halloween-themed bags in hand. He throws them down over the coffee table, radiating pride.

“Take your pick! Except for you, Link, I need to do your makeup!”

Taylor grabs Link’s hand with the one not holding his cane and drags him upstairs towards their bathroom. Hermie sighs, letting Normal and Scary take their pick of bags before grabbing the one they figure Link would go for, just to be a jerk.

Taylor and Link return after a while with makeup on and the last pieces of their costumes in place. Hermie’s head itches just looking at Taylor’s wig, but they aren’t at all surprised by his commitment to the costume.

Taylor's wearing a long yellow raincoat with matching boots. His wig is a deep royal blue, gelled to hell and back to where it looks like pieces of rope or string, and he's wearing the dragonfly hairclip Hermie had seen him making a few days ago. His nails are a pale blue—Hermie painted them last night when his hands were trembling again.

His eyes have little crosses in them, and while the button contacts do complete the look, Hermie wonders how obscured his vision might be.He's wearing blue eyeshadow and black lipstick, which isn’t exactly canon-compliant, but it does look good and match the costume well enough.

Link's wearing a long black coat and skeleton gloves. He's not wearing any fancy button contacts, but the dark eyeshadow circles under his eyes seem to be enough to tie together the costume.

“Ready? I’m ready! Let’s go!” Taylor cheers without waiting for a response, grabbing the last pair of bags off the table and dragging Link towards the entrance.

“I was not planning on walking around in these heels,” Scary grumbles, but she follows anyway.

“I would offer to swap shoes, but…” Normal trails off, frowning at Scary’s heels. They’re only three or so inches, but Hermie is inclined to agree.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” Scary agrees. “It’s whatever.”

“Just let us know if you want to turn around, okay?” Normal offers, and Scary mumbles an agreement.

The sun has only just set, but the street lights and ambient light pollution makes it easy enough to see by, even if not for Hermie’s infernal night vision. It’s just on the edge of being cold. Unfortunately everyone is wearing long sleeves at least, so that’s one less excuse to go home early.

The first house they visit is barely decorated. A few pumpkins on the porch and some ghost string lights indicate that they are indeed celebrating the holiday, and the group walks up to the door, with Taylor in the lead. He rings the door, practically bouncing with excitement as he waits for someone to answer.

It isn’t long before an older man opens the door with a bowl of candy in hand. He seems a little surprised by the sight of them, but extends the bowl without comment when Taylor says the line and the others echo it half-heartedly. Hermie lingers at the back of the group, refusing to partake. They do, however, sneak their hand into Normal’s bag and snag his bounty as they turn to leave.

The next house is far more festive. There seems to be a graveyard theme with plastic bones scattered around at random and an out-of-place skull sitting on the porch. The motion sensors in the glowing eyes are so clearly visible that it’s hard to imagine anyone actually getting startled by it ‘suddenly’ moving.

… except Hermie doesn’t have to imagine it, because Taylor ends up getting startled right in front of them. It’s not much more than a hitch of the breath and a bit of a jump, but it clearly got him.

Link squeezes his hand comfortingly, offering Taylor a concerned smile. Hermie is about to step up to Taylor’s other side to bump their shoulders together and offer some light teasing, but Normal slides into place beside him instead. Hermie is all at once reminded of their place within this group, which is to say, they don’t have a place within it at all.

When it’s just Hermie and Taylor, it’s easy enough to trick themself into thinking that Taylor actually likes them, but now they’re reminded once more of how easy they are to replace. Taylor only spends time with them because they just so happen to be there, and now that the others are around, his preferences are clear.

And it’s not just Taylor either. They wouldn’t expect Scary or Link to be all that happy to see them, but now that he’s gotten over his initial excitement, it’s clear Normal couldn’t care less about them either.

Oh, how they’ve missed this. They wonder if anyone would notice if Hermie just turned around and went back to the house. As Taylor turns up the sidewalk towards the next house, they’re almost tempted to try.

And then one of the yard decorations lurches to life, mechanical arms flailing with a whirr far louder than the groans coming from the speaker hidden somewhere in its chest. Normal jumps, ducking behind Link and Taylor, but Taylor shrieks , lifting his cane as if about to strike as he curls into Link’s side.

Taylor is shaking as they leave that house, leaning into Link’s and clutching his arm even as he continues to joke around. If Hermie were a better person, they’d step in and turn this whole party around because Taylor clearly isn’t having much fun, but…

“Hey, are you okay?” Link murmurs, voice soft and gentle and soothing in a way Hermie has never been able to replicate.

“Yeah, of course!” Taylor says, leaning a bit too hard into foolhardy confidence.

“You’re shaking,” Scary points out.

“It’s cold!”

“Not particularly,” Hermie mumbles, but it goes unheard or ignored.

“We can head back if you want,” Link offers. If he’s seen through Taylor’s lie, he offers no sign of it one way or another.

“No way!” Taylor insists, tugging Link away from the house and back down the street. “We haven’t even gotten to the house with the full-sized candy bars!”

There’s another few houses that are devoid of jumpscares, and some of Taylor’s nervousness almost seems to be fading.

Almost . Even if Taylor isn’t visibly shaking anymore, Hermie can still see the tension in the set of his shoulders. He’s glancing around the streets at the other trick-or-treaters like any one of them could prove to be a threat. Considering they’re all very clearly children, Hermie likes their odds in the case of an attack. Not that there’s one coming, because they’re a bunch of children.

Somewhere around four houses later, they come upon one with a pair of trees on either side of the path towards the entryway. Fake spiderwebs hang between the trees, a fuzzy black spider sitting in pride of place among the webs. There’s a few more plastic spiders scattered across the trees and lawn, with one sitting right beside the porch. The glow behind its red plastic eyes gives it away even from a distance, but Taylor still shrieks as it ‘suddenly’ scuttles to life.

From further down the path, Hermie can see that it’s attached to a semicircle base that means it’s only moving a few inches one way or another, but from up close it must seem like it’s coming right towards you. Taylor, of course, does not react well to that perceived threat, and slams the base of his cane straight through its wire carapace before stumbling back a few steps.

Hermie takes place beside it, kicking at its shattered remains. One leg still twitches through its mechanical death-throes until Hermie pins it underfoot and puts the poor thing out of its misery.

“Sick,” Scary comments absently, trying to sound aloof even as she steps towards Taylor, visibly concerned.

“Oh gosh, we’re gonna get in so much trouble,” Normal says, but his concern seems to be directed more towards Taylor than the owners of what is now a pile of spider-shaped scrap metal. “But hey, are you okay?”

Taylor wheezes on a response, and ends up nodding his head when the words don’t manage to make it past his throat.

“We can head back now,” Link says, gently insistent.

“No um—“ Taylor takes in a sharp breath, letting it out a bit steadier. “Nonono, it’s fine I’m fine it’s totally fine.”

Nobody who’s actually fine ever says they’re fine that many times in a row at that speed, but Hermie supposes, as usual, they have no room to judge.

Taylor continues onwards to the next house. Link glances over his shoulder towards Hermie, but Hermie looks away before anything can be communicated.

They should stop. They should grab Taylor’s other hand and drag him home. They should sit down in the middle of the sidewalk and refuse to move any further. They should do something , anything, to get Taylor to turn around, or at least to stop rushing ahead before he can catch his breath.

They don’t. Taylor leads the way up the sidewalk of the next house, and then the one after that. As they approach the third house, a rickety scarecrow decoration lurches from the lawn, scattering dead leaves across their feet. It actually was a well-hidden mechanism this time around, enough that even Hermie flinches, but Taylor…

"Fuck!" Taylor screams—immediately drawing in the disapproving looks of every parent in sight—and stumbles backward, only to fall into Link's arms, eyes wide and wild before he draws his hands up to his face. His breathing starts to become audibly shallow and strained, much to everyone's concern.

“Whoa, Taylor, you okay!?” Normal says, rushing to Taylor’s other side. His hands flutter anxiously, but all it does is make Taylor curl further into his hands. Scary stares at Taylor for a moment longer, before straightening up and glancing around; checking for threats, Hermie supposes. One of her signature scowls scares a curious child away from investigating the group of teens further.

"Taylor, hey, hey, hey," Link turns Taylor so he's facing him, and carefully pries his hands away from his eyes, holding them tightly. "Breathe."

Taylor's eyes are shut tight, and his words are weak yet clipped. "I'm— I'm good ," he says between small gasps.

He's trembling violently now, a somewhat familiar sight to Hermie but no less alarming for it. It still feels strange to see Taylor falling into this kind of panic, especially out here on stage, but they don’t have time to dwell on it.

“I really don’t think you’re—“ Normal starts, only for Taylor to cut him off.

“I’m good!” he snaps.

“Well, I’m not,” Hermie interjects, really leaning into the natural whine of their voice, “you have wildly overhyped this whole ‘trick-or-treating’ experience, and I’m tired, it’s cold out, and I’d like to go back to the house.”

“But we—“ Taylor stutters. “You haven’t been having fun?”

Trying to change the topic. Classic Taylor.

“It’s been fine. I forgot how wonderful it is to be ignored by all of you at once.”

Maybe a bit too harsh. Hermie hadn’t really been trying to incorporate themself, all too content to stew in their self-righteous anger rather than do anything about it. And it’s that same stewing that got them into this situation in the first place. They should have turned this metaphorical car around a long time ago.

“Hey, can you not be a dick right now?” Scary snaps, stepping between Hermie and Taylor as if she expected them to take a lunge at him.

Hermie could continue to be a dick— they’re very good at it— but that isn’t really their goal right now. They hold their hands up placatingly, meeting Scary’s eye and hoping she gets the point.

“Since you asked so nicely…” Hermie says, trailing off deliberately. “I still want to go back to the house, though.”

Scary blinks, posture loosening a bit. Good. They don’t particularly care what Scary thinks of them at this point— she’s already seen the worst of them, and for all the fun they’ve had together, they know it’s hopeless— it’s good to have her on their side.

“I’m with you there, actually,” Scary says, shrugging as she turns back to Taylor.

“No! No, we should keep going! Let’s keep going!” Taylor says frantically. It could almost be mistaken for excitement.

“I think Hermie has a point, actually—“ Link starts, sputtering to a stop when Taylor pulls himself out of his grip as if burnt.

“No! I’m having fun, aren’t you guys having fun?” Taylor insists, turning on his heel and marching down the street away from them.

“Well, yeah, I just…” Normal tries, voice fading out as Taylor storms off.

“I’ll go get him,” Link offers, turning to follow Taylor.

“Forget it,” Hermie scoffs, glaring at Taylor’s retreating back. “If he wants to work himself into a panic attack, he can go ahead. See if I care.”

“You don’t mean that,” Normal says, sounding hurt on Taylor’s behalf. “Besides, it’s not really that bad, is it?”

“Don’t act like you know anything about what I do and don’t mean,” Hermie snaps, fighting down the urge to lean into their more demonic traits in their anger. “You’re the last one I want to hear that shit from.”

Normal steps back as if struck, opening his mouth to respond before Scary beats him to it.

“Just fucking go if you’re gonna be such a dick!” Scary snaps, stepping between Normal and Hermie. “If you hate us so much, why are you even here?”

Hermie snarls, refusing to be cowed. She does make a good point, but—

Someone screams. No, not just someone, Hermie knows exactly who that is. The defensive anger and spite drains out of them in an instant as they brush past Scary and Normal and head in the direction of the shout.

Taylor had turned the corner, apparently, down a dead end street that’s mostly yard and unnecessarily large houses. As soon as Hermie turns the corner to follow, they see the source of the issue.

Their first thought is that this is stupid , which they immediately feel bad about. It’s a fairly elaborate decoration of wires and lights that turn on and off in a set sequence that plays out a simple scene. A brown horse rears up, and its rider’s head tumbles from his shoulders. It’s the sort of thing Hermie wouldn’t have looked twice at, except maybe to point out how poorly the darkness hides the unlit sections of the decoration.

It’s not doing much to hide Taylor either, who stands before the decoration with Link at his shoulder. He’s nearly frozen except for the way he’s shaking, and Hermie can see the way his shoulders hitch with each ragged breath even from here.

He's got his hands clasped around his neck, and Link is saying something to him too soft for Hermie to hear, and it doesn't seem to have any effect, since Taylor is crumbling to the ground and curling in on himself in a second. Link sits with him, and Hermie recalls a certain time they left Link alone with an anxious Taylor.

Just as Hermie's about to approach, two sets of footsteps catch up to and rush past them.

" Taylor! " Normal shouts with worry, but his intentions ultimately backfire once more when Taylor flinches at the sound. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Taylor opens his mouth to respond and a few squeaky sounds escape him, nothing more.

Hermie steps closer, attempting to shoot Normal a stop overwhelming him look, but it goes unnoticed. Of course.

"Taylor, hey, it's okay, just take a deep breath," Link says, hands hovering cautiously in front of Taylor, whose breathing is only getting more strained and quick with time.

His eyes are wide and his gaze is fixed on the dead, yellowish grass beneath him.

Hermie has only really seen Taylor's anxiety spike at the house, and they're almost certain Taylor isn't familiar with it affecting him in public at all. And that's only making it worse.

Taylor draws his knees to his chest and buries his head in them with his hands still on his neck, and Hermie can hear the painfully familiar sound of strangled sobs between uncontrollable gasps. Focused on Taylor as they are, they don’t even notice the stranger approaching until their hand is on Hermie’s shoulder.

“Do you— is he okay?” the stranger asks. She’s an adult, an equally concerned-looking child in full costume trailing behind her but keeping their distance. If only their mother had the same common sense.

“He’s fine,” Hermie snaps, shrugging off her hand. “I mean— he’s not, obviously, but I can handle this.”

“Wh— Hermie, has this happened before? Is— is Taylor okay?” Normal fusses, glancing back and forth between Taylor and Hermie.

“Yes, no, and you’re not helping,” Hermie says, probably a bit more sharply than necessary. “Back off.”

Hermie pays no further mind to Normal, instead kneeling down in front of Taylor. The amount of heat radiating off him would be enough cause for concern on its own. Hermie is almost worried about the grass below him catching fire, but that’s a situation that they’ll deal with when and if it comes up.

For now, they cast a quick glare towards Link. He seems reluctant to back off, but eventually he does, standing back up and squeezing himself between Taylor and Normal.

With that dealt with and Scary intercepting the woman from earlier, Hermie can focus their full attention on Taylor. Despite how much they want to flinch away from the heat, they reach out to put their hands on either of Taylor’s arms. Taylor shudders a bit at first, before curling forward to rest his head against Hermie’s shoulder. He whines, and Hermie can feel hot tears hitting their shoulder, and Taylor's fully hyperventilating now, and falling apart in their arms. Hermie doesn’t feel equipped to hold him together, but they don’t have any choice but to try anyway.

(A small voice in the back of their mind tells them that they do have a choice, that they don’t have to be here, that Link and the others could handle this and it wouldn’t matter to them even if they didn’t, but they refuse to acknowledge it.)

“Hey, hey, Taylor,” Hermie says softly. Their voice never sounds like their own when they talk like this, but it helps to calm Taylor and that’s all that matters at the moment. “Can you hear me, Tay?”

Taylor nods feebly against their chest, and then shakes his head. A bit of a confusing response, but it is a response, so that’s a good sign if nothing else. They wrap their arms around Taylor properly, running one hand along his back while the other grabs one of the hands Taylor has still clawing at his own neck.

Taylor squeezes their hand hard , and Hermie fights down a flinch. His nail length fluctuates with the way Hermie's seen him biting at them in the past, but right now they're long, and they might be piercing Hermie's skin, but that's no cause for concern when there's a bigger problem at hand.

"I'm right here, okay? Just focus on me," they say, and Taylor nods a second time, somehow smaller and weaker than before. “Do you remember how to— nevermind, just breathe with me, okay? In, two, three, four, five…”

Hermie squeezes Taylor’s hand feebly, taking in an exaggeratedly deep breath in time with their counting. Taylor tries to follow, but he ends up sucking in a breath for barely a second and holding it for another before letting it out, and he whines again, and there's a slight chance the grass may have caught fire now with the heat and the light in Hermie's peripheral, but Scary stomps it out in a second.

"You're okay, just keep breathing," Hermie hums in that same unfamiliar softness, bringing their free hand to take Taylor's other hand away from his neck. With the sharpness of his nails right now, it's no surprise when Hermie feels a little blood trickling down the back of his neck—they'll handle that later.

The hand wraps around and claws at their back, hugging Hermie tight and quite possibly staining their costume with blood.

If this weren't Halloween, there'd surely be even more panic in this yard from the unwanted witnesses.

"You're safe," Hermie says, though the increasing noise of worried adults makes them cringe. The relief came too soon, it seems.

"We've got it under control," Scary tells them, "Just—give us space. Now ."

Her voice is cutting and harsh, and the concerned chatter dies down immediately. Taylor flinches a little at the sound of her voice, and Hermie gently shushes him, running their hand along his back.

“You’re alright, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Hermie soothes. “Keep breathing, you’re okay…”

Hermie keeps counting and breathing and soothing until at last, Taylor's breathing slows. His grip loosens ever so slightly, and with the pressure fading it leaves room for pain. Taylor’s got a hell of a grip, but it’s nothing Hermie can’t handle.

"Any better?" they ask, gently carding their fingers through Taylor's… wig. Right. Hermie nearly forgot about that.

God they hate the texture of synthetic hair. Luckily, It doesn’t seem to be doing much for Taylor either, so they lower their hand to rest it on his shoulder.

"Uhh…mhm…" Taylor nods.

"We're gonna go back now, okay?" they say, and Taylor lifts his head the tiniest bit. His face is red and puffy beneath his running makeup, and his eyes are half lidded and teary.

"Ss.. suh…sorr…" he mumbles and scrunches his face up with a little squeak.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay, Taylor," Hermie hugs him tighter, sparing a glance to Link who's already knelt down beside them ready to pick Taylor up. "Let's go home."

"Taylor, I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" Link says, putting a hand on Taylor's back. Hermie sees his eyes widen when his gaze flickers to Taylor's neck, but he schools his expression fairly quickly.

"Mmhmm…" Taylor mumbles, pulling away from Hermie and turning to Link.

Link scoops him up, and Hermie feels a tug at their arm. They glance down and see Taylor's tail wrapped around their wrist.

Well. They suppose they'll be attached to Taylor the whole way home then. At least they have enough wiggle room to retrieve Taylor’s cane.

Taylor curls up in Link's arms, pressing his face into Link's chest and whining quietly. Hermie follows close behind, closer than they would if they had their choice of position. As if their proximity to Link wasn’t enough, Normal squeezes in next to their other side, placing a hand on their shoulder.

“Hey— um, are you okay?” Normal asks quietly, leaned in close enough that Hermie can feel his breath on their ear.

“What? Of course,” Hermie says.

“There’s blood…”

“Not mine,” Hermie scoffs, even if they’re not entirely sure whether or not that’s the truth. Taylor had one hell of a grip on them.

“Oh… then Taylor…?”

“I’ve got him,” Link cuts in, a soft murmur half-buried in Taylor’s hair. Taylor hums an agreement.

“Okay! Good! Good…” Normal trails off, brows furrowed.

Hermie glances at him, and it’s immediately obvious what’s bothering him; he didn’t end up helping at all. In fact, he was only making things worse until Link intercepted him. The part of Hermie that’s still all mushy from their comforting role wants to offer Normal some sort of reassurance, but they bite it back.

“You were… that was nice. What you did. With Taylor,” Normal says, running his hand along the back of his neck.

“Especially after you said you wouldn’t care if he worked himself up into a panic attack,” Scary mumbles.

“Shut up,” Hermie snips half heartedly, glancing at Taylor. Taylor doesn’t seem to have heard her, which is relief.

Most of the walk home is spent in silence, only occasionally interrupted by Taylor’s soft whines and Link’s soothing hums. Normal and Scary trail behind the three of them, exchanging hushed words that Hermie doesn’t care to make sense of.

Once they reach the front porch, Taylor's tail unwraps from Hermie's wrist in favour of Link's leg, so Hermie doesn't have much trouble fishing the house key out of their pocket and unlocking the door. They swing it open, bowing with a wide sweeping motion towards the open doorway.

“Thanks,” Link says softly, meeting Hermie’s eye when they look up. They can tell he’s talking about more than just the door. Theatrics unacknowledged and under-appreciated as usual, Hermie straightens up.

“Whatever,” they say, with a shrug. Link nods, and carries Taylor inside.

"Are your pyjamas in your room?" Hermie hears Link ask, and the rest of their conversation is too distant to make out.

Scary follows, glaring over her shoulder like she’s worried a mob of concerned parents are going to follow them in. Luckily, none of the thinning crowd of parents and trick-or-treaters seem to care about them at all. Normal trails after her, meeting Hermie’s eyes for a brief moment and offering them a shy smile. Hermie rolls their eyes and shuts the door behind them.

Link has disappeared upstairs with Taylor, with Normal and Scary left lingering in the living area. Hermie brushes past them into the kitchen, retrieving a pot from the cupboard and a jug of apple cider from the fridge. They quickly scan the label to double (triple) check for any allergens or anything else against the dietary restrictions of the group, but nothing has shown up since the last time they checked.

“Normal,” they call, and they barely have to raise their voice before Normal is all-but-sprinting into the kitchen.

“Hey Hermie, what’s up?”

They pour the cider into the pot and place it on the stove, cranking up the heat.

“Make sure this doesn’t explode while I get changed,” Hermie instructs, and they don’t elaborate before leaving the kitchen for their room.

“Yeah! Yeah, I can definitely do that!” Normal calls, and then quieter, “um, Scary?”

“It’s apple cider, doofus, it’s not gonna explode,” Scary says as Hermie heads upstairs. “Hermie was just trying to make you feel…”

And Hermie does not hear the conclusion of that sentence before they slam their door shut. That’s for the best, they decide; they don’t need to hear Scary dissect their character motivations.

Because there weren’t any motivations beyond ‘I don’t want to burn the house down right now and I always exercise utmost kitchen safety’.

It had nothing to do with giving Normal a task so he wouldn’t feel so useless. He was useless and Hermie couldn’t care less about how he felt.

Whatever. Hermie strips out of their costume and their horns and tail fall back into place. Taylor’s claws have left crescent-moon cuts along the back of their hand, but they’re hardly even bleeding, so Hermie licks away the blood and calls it there. They change into their pyjamas, and keep an ear out for Link and Taylor leaving the other room before sneaking in and depositing Taylor’s cane on the hook beside his bed. They figure they’ll probably sleep in the basement tonight anyways, and if absolutely necessary Hermie can run back upstairs to retrieve it themself.

Hermie allows themself a brief moment of peace backstage. God , they’re tired. They hadn’t realised until they had taken their bow. Almost every part of them is pulling them back towards their room, to lay down in bed and never interact with anyone ever again, but somehow, the voice of Normal calling them from downstairs is louder.

They take a deep breath, and return to the stage.

“What is it, Normal?” Hermie asks as they descend the stairs.

“Um, is it supposed to be boiling?” Normal asks, pointing at the pot. Scary is conspicuously absent.

“No, not really,” Hermie sighs, picking up the pace a bit. “Did you turn up the heat?”

“Um… n— yeah… I did,” Normal admits, and when Hermie doesn’t immediately respond, he continues. “It just— it wasn’t getting hot!”

“Because it’s a lot of liquid, it’ll take time for it all to heat up!” Hermie nudges Normal out of the way as they turn the heat off. “Go get a hot pad, they’re over in the drawer by the oven.”

Normal dutifully retrieves a hot pad, and places it on the counter by the stove. Hermie brings the sleeve of their pyjama shirt up over their hand to lift the pot and place it on the hot pad. Now that there’s no risk of it boiling over, Hermie breathes out a sigh and starts retrieving the necessary mugs from the cabinet.

“So… um… you said that that had happened before?” Normal says, quiet and cautious as if he thinks that speaking too loudly of it will make it happen again.

“I was talking about the other thing,” Hermie denies without even thinking about it.

“… no you weren’t,” Normal says slowly. “You said yes to my first question and no to the second one. And besides, you were… you were really good with him, like you knew what to do!”

“I’m fantastic at all theatrical arts, including improv.”

“Hermie!” Normal snaps. “I'm worried, so can you stop being all— like that and just give it to me straight?”

“Doing things straight isn’t really my area of expertise,” Hermie quips, because Normal really walked right into that one.

“Hermie!”

“Fine, god, yes, Taylor has had a panic attack before!” Hermie sighs, aggravated. “Despite what you seem to like to think, you’re not the only one who was traumatised by all that shit!”

“I don’t—“ Normal shouts, before lowering his voice. “I don’t think that!”

“You thought it all just bounced off him, didn’t you? You all did.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

Hermie could. They were pretty damn good at blaming people for all sorts of things that weren’t actually their fault, but… god, they really just don’t have the energy.

“I guess not,” Hermie sighs. “He’s a pretty good actor if you don’t know his tells.”

“And you do…” Normal trails off.

“Of course I do,” Hermie agrees. “Like recognizes like, and I live with the guy.”

“Right, that makes sense…” Normal is quiet for a few moments while Hermie sets up the mugs across the counter and starts dividing the cider between them.

“Do you think— like, is he okay? Just in general?”

“Are any of us?” Hermie shrugs, and Normal chuckles sadly.

“I guess that’s a good point…” Normal agrees. “… are you doing okay? As okay as any of us could be doing, I mean. Cm You never really respond to my texts, and I ask Taylor, but...”

“Unreliable narrator,” Hermie agrees, filling in the blanks. They do not continue.

“Yeah… so…?”

“So what?”

“Hermie! Come on!”

Hermie laughs tiredly, “does it matter?”

“Of course it does, Hermie! I’m worried about you!”

“Don’t be,” Hermie snaps, but there’s no real fire behind it. “I’m alive, despite my own and the universe’s best efforts.”

“You make it really hard not to be worried about you when you say stuff like that!” Normal says, taking a step towards Hermie. Hermie cuts him off by shoving a mug of cider into his hands.

“Everyone else has managed. All of this,” Hermie gestures at themself, “is self contained. If you don’t like the performance, the exit is to your left.”

“I… jeez, Hermie—“

“Come on,” Hermie says, shoving another couple of mugs into his hands. Normal takes them, but the worried expression doesn’t leave his face. Hermie ignores it, and leads the way down to the basement.

Link has already settled into place in the middle of the couch, with Taylor half on his lap and curled up against him. They're both in pyjamas, but Taylor's still got a full face of tear-smudged makeup on. Hermie sighs and rolls their eyes, setting down the mugs on the table. With their hands free, they unzip Taylor's go-bag and fish through it. Vaguely they register the noise of Scary descending the stairs to join them, but Hermie ignores it.

They find the makeup wipes without much issue, pull a few out of the pack, sit beside Taylor and try to lift him up from where he's lying in Link's lap.

Taylor whines and turns away from Hermie, burying his face in Link's pyjama pants. Hermie thinks they can hear a small and muffled "nooo."

"Let me take your makeup off. Then you can lie back down without it getting everywhere."

Taylor whines again, and Link assists Hermie by gently lifting him up and tilting him toward them.

They take his glasses off and Link holds onto them, and then they wipe the makeup off as gently as possible while still getting all of it off. It's not unlike Taylor to forget or forgo this step when he's too drained or achey—at least he didn't leave his contacts in. Hermie probably has Link to thank for that.

Taylor's face scrunches up as Hermie wipes the makeup off. Probably because the wipes are cold and wet and not the most comfortable thing when you're warm and cozy, but it's better than staining everything and fucking up your skin. Not that Hermie would care about the last part in particular, but still.

“There you go,” Hermie mumbles as they wipe off the last of it.

They bump their head gently against Taylor’s before pulling back… or at least attempting to. While Hermie was distracted, Taylor’s tail returned to its position around their wrist.

“My spot is over there,” Hermie whines, tugging gently at Taylor’s tail but not making any real attempt to pull free. As they glance mournfully at their spot, they realise Scary and Normal are staring at them, looking two parts confused and one part surprised. Normal’s face flushes when they meet his eyes, and Hermie quickly looks away.

Taylor whines something along the lines of ‘punishment for getting my face wet when I was comfy’, but none of it is actually words. Unwilling to make a further scene of it, they sigh and settle down beside Taylor, letting him bury his feet beneath their thighs.

Normal and Scary linger in front of the couch for a while, before Scary elbows Normal and moves over to sit on Link’s other side, which leaves Normal to squeeze in between Hermie and the armrest. He’s being very careful not to touch them, and Hermie stretches just a bit to knock their legs together. His tension was palpable, and Hermie is very glad to feel it loosen as soon as they make contact.

For their own sake, of course.

“Oh!” Link says softly from Hermie’s other side. “Do you have any more makeup wipes?”

Hermie produces the last one from their pocket, and holds it out for Link.

“You sure you don’t want me to do it?” Hermie teases, and Link immediately grimaces as he takes the wipe.

“Yeah, no, I’m good. That’s weird.”

Hermie snorts and leaves it there. They retrieve the remote from its place on the back of the couch. Usually, they’d hand it to Taylor and let him take over, but considering the way he’s still barely even looking at the screen, he doesn’t really seem up to it.

“Any suggestions?” Hermie says as they turn on the TV. Everyone replies with a chorus of vague, noncommittal mumbles. “Great.”

They open up Netflix and scroll through the list they prepared for the night, but most of their selections are actual horror movies, which don’t seem appropriate after the night’s events. Once they eliminate anything actually scary, they don’t have too much left to choose from, but The Nightmare Before Christmas seems like a safe bet. Hermie isn’t entirely sure if Taylor had inherited his father and sort-of-grandfather’s Christmas spirit, but it’s a fun movie either way. Nobody complains when they select it, so they hit play and settle in.

The movie plays with little chatter from everyone. Taylor is curled up against Link's chest, and Hermie thinks he might be asleep.

But then they hear his breath hitch, and they look over immediately to see Link shifting Taylor to face him rather than stay buried in his pyjama shirt.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, bringing his thumb to wipe a tear off Taylor's cheek.

"'M sorry…" Taylor mumbles to Link.

"For what?"

As an answer, Taylor only whines, and his breathing picks up again, and more tears start sliding down his cheeks.

Scary's torn her gaze from the TV, and she's got it locked on Link hugging Taylor—the sympathy in her eyes is something Hermie's only caught glimpses of before.

Normal is looking directly at Hermie, concerned and expectant. They don’t love being relied upon, but at least it’s better than Normal rushing in himself and overwhelming Taylor again. They hold up a hand in a stay there gesture, before returning their attention to Taylor.

Link is shushing and soothing Taylor as his sobs get louder, with one hand on his back and another in his hair, and Taylor mumbles something into his chest that's barely coherent, but Hermie pieces it together.

"...ruined Halloween…" he slurred between sobs.

So that's what he's sorry for.

Link's mouth is slightly agape, and judging by the look on his face, Hermie is almost certain he has no idea what Taylor just said.

"You didn't ruin Halloween," Hermie reassures, hoping they sound more sympathetic than exhausted. They certainly feel exhausted.

Link glances up at Hermie, apparently surprised by their translation, before he nods quickly and squeezes Taylor gently.

“Yeah! It’s fine! It may not have gone super great, but you still gave me the chance to go trick-or-treating!”

“‘s even worse!” Taylor sobs. “It was your first and maybe only time trick-or-treating and it was awful!”

“I wouldn’t have done it at all if not for you!” Link tries, sending Hermie a frantic look.

Hermie grimaces, but leans over to press their side against Taylor’s. It also means they’re snuggled up against Link’s arms, which Hermie is sure both of them could do without, but for now they’re willing to call truce for the sake of Taylor.

“Exactly. Besides, it’s not like you went out there with the intention of…” having a severe panic attack and almost starting a small suburban lawn fire, “all that. It’s not your fault.”

“‘s stupid,” Taylor sniffles, tugging Hermie a bit closer with his tail. There’s not much force behind it, but Hermie takes the hint and turns towards Taylor, wrapping him fully in a hug.

“No it’s not,” Link says.

“Hey, maybe, but the world's stupid and things happen,” Hermie says at the same time.

“I shouldn’t have…” Taylor mumbles, weak and muffled.

“None of us should have,” Hermie agrees, and hopes Taylor can make sense of the implication.

Of course Taylor shouldn’t have had a panic attack over a series of cheap Halloween decorations, but he did, and it was the result of some eldritch generational trauma that none of them ever should have had to deal with in the first place.

Taylor mumbles noncommittally, snuggling further into Link and Hermie’s embrace. Hermie settles more comfortably against the two of them, resigning themself to staying there for the rest of the night, potentially.

After the first movie reaches its conclusion, Scary has leaned against Link’s other arm. It isn’t until Hermie is half asleep an hour or two later that Normal finally works up the courage to cuddle in against them. Despite how tempted they are to tease, Taylor’s breathing has finally steadied out beneath them and they aren’t about to risk waking him. They keep their eyes shut, and adjust their own position so Normal can fit more comfortably against them.

They’re all bound to wake up sore and awkward tomorrow morning, but for now they’re cosy and comfortable, so Hermie, at least, is content to leave that problem for tomorrow.

#dndads halloween week 2023 #dndads #the mortifying ordeal of being roommates #fic #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #angst #hurt/comfort

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ghostchems · 2 years

Text

a perpetual rise - part 2

terzo, copia and marion have an awkward lunch. read part one here.

notes: 2.8k words. 18+! mndi! there is monster fuckery below the cut! terzo x female!oc. ao3 link.

The room was flooded with light, beaming directly into Marion’s closed eyes. She cracked them open with a groan, sitting up in bed as she ran her fingers through her hair. Then the panic began to set in – what time was it? She fumbled for her phone in the sheets and ripped the comforter off the bed, her phone landing with a thud on the floor. It lit up and read 11:43.

“Oh, fuck!” Marion launched herself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. She settled for a pair of black leggings and an oversized gray sweater (was it even hers? Or was she borrowing it for the day?) A quick trip to the mirror confirmed that her hair was a mess so she quickly threw it up into a bun.

She had really wanted to get all dolled up for the occasion, maybe even throw on a dress but she was already later than she wanted to be. Always the type of person to be early to any kind of plan so that she could be prepared, this had really thrown her off. It was almost a good thing, though, because now she didn’t even have any time to overthink and worry about the absolute worst-case scenarios.

She was finally out the door, walking briskly in the direction of the garden. Her attention was on getting to the garden as her mind raced, the nervousness beginning to creep up into her stomach. As she made her way down the hall, she was pulled out of her thoughts by a blur of red coming up next to her.

“What did you say to him?” Copia asked pointedly, his eyes narrowing as they started to walk beside each other. He was dressed in his usual red tracksuit but his overall appearance seemed much fresher, much brighter, like maybe he was starting to take care of himself again. Or maybe he wanted to seem put together for his brother.

“I didn’t say anything.” Marion grumbled, unable to hide her frustration that was already boiling inside of her due to oversleeping.

“You told on me. You tattled.”

“I did not.” She knew whatever she said, he wouldn’t believe her. The urge to completely snap at him, to tell him to get over himself, to tell him to grow the fuck up, was growing by the moment but she bit her tongue. She didn’t want to sour the lunch before it even started.

The silence stretched between the two of them, tension in the air. They both knew they weren’t going to get anywhere with each other, so why keep going? After a short while, they made it to the garden gates. It was a bit chilly out but the sun was shining, providing some warmth.

Papa was already seated at the table, his legs crossed daintily as he observed the two of them trudging over to him. His lips quirk into a small smile, stretching his legs out before he stood to greet the two of them.

“Has Hell frozen over? I don’t think I’ve ever been the first to arrive to a meal.” He quipped in typical Terzo fashion. His presence already made Marion feel so much better – he was in her corner, even though Copia was his brother. The goal was to have everybody on the same team so that they could move forward together.

Papa leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the forehead, calming her nerves even more. He squeezed her shoulder before walking toward Copia. It was an awkward interaction to say the very least, but they were at least able to give each other a solemn handshake, which was definitely better than nothing.

Marion’s gaze fell to the table that had a generous spread of sandwiches, salads and some snacks. Her stomach growled at the sight, loud enough that the two of them noticed. Terzo gave a small chuckle but it did nothing to cut the tension in the air. They all sat down, silence drifting over them before she couldn’t stand it anymore – reaching for a sandwich.

“I’m sorry guys, we could sit here uncomfortably for a while but I need to eat.” She added some salad to her plate, looking expectantly between the both of them before digging in. “Papa, don’t you have something you want to say?”

Terzo sucked in a breath through his teeth. His expression softened as he looked at Copia. “I am sorry, fratello. I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you.” He sounded genuine but it was already understood between the three of them that his words won’t mean much.

“I, ehm, understand why it had to be done but… but why? Y-you knew… you knew what she was to me.”

This was the first time Marion had seen Copia show such emotion. She was eating quietly as she watched him, furrowing her brows. In that moment, despite all the things he had said about her, she felt for him.

“We all knew.” Terzo leaned back in his chair, clenching his jaw. “We knew before you did. Seems a bit cruel of her to keep that information from you for most of your life, eh? Look at what she did to us. What makes you think she wouldn’t have done the same to you the second you were no longer useful?”

Copia was taken aback by his forwardness, sputtering for a moment before pressing his lips together. Marion could not eat any slower than she already had been, trying to be as quiet as possible so she didn’t interrupt. She was deeply uncomfortable but the conversation was so long overdue.

“We were always there for you, fratello, even if we did not get along all of the time.” Papa offered a small smile.

“Mmm. And what about now, Terzo? Does la familia still come first or does she?” Copia all but growled.

Marion swallowed the food in her mouth as her eyes narrowed, pointing in his direction. She wasn’t surprised by how quickly the topic had come up. It was something she was thinking over for a long time: what she would say to him once the opportunity came up to put him in her place. But after being so jumbled by oversleeping, her thoughts failed her. She finally opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Papa.

“We have a bond, fratello. A ritual was performed and we are bound together, forever.”

Marion’s eyes shot over the Papa who was fixated on his brother. This wasn’t what they had agreed to. The deal was that they were bound until they both held up their end of the deal – which to her knowledge had been done. Maybe he was just talking out of his ass to Copia but the concern was still there. Had he… lied to her?

She had just been going over that moment because of her job; the knife, mixing of their blood and how the altar ignited with black flames. Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry.

Copia noticed; he was always ever so observant, and it was difficult for him to hide the sly grin that crept onto his face. His fingers drummed on the table as his gaze fell to his lap, his mind turning.

“Just because you two are bound together doesn’t mean that she can replace Sister.”

“I am not replacing her.” Marion finally piped up. “My responsibilities are nowhere near what hers were.”

“In fact, if anyone has the experience to take up Sister’s responsibilities…” Papa trailed off, his eyes meeting Copia’s as his lips curled into a grin. “It’s yours, fratello, if you want it.”

Copia’s eyes moved back and forth between the two of them. He gave a soft sigh as he sat back. “I still need some time to think. This is still, eh… a lot for me to take in. A lot of change in a short amount of time.” He fidgeted with his hands, nervously tugging at his sleeves.

“Take your time. I hope that I will see you around the Abbey more often, yes?”

“Ehm, yes. Yes. I, uh, I have to go feed my rats.” Before anyone was able to speak, Copia was already off scurrying back to his quarters.

“Mm. I guess we have all this food just for us, amore.”

“I actually am not very hungry.” Marion replied dryly and then got up herself. “I am really behind today, slept in late by accident.” She pressed a small kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

She left him at the table alone. Papa sat there for a moment, in thought as he drummed his fingers along the table.

Marion was back in her office shortly after, her door closed shut so that no one would come in. She usually left it open for anyone who wanted to chat but right now she needed to be alone. The lunch seemed to have gone well for Terzo and Copia and she was happy about that… but now she had to have a conversation that she didn’t feel like having. She could ignore the fact that Terzo may have lied but she knew those feelings would just fester until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Her work for the day was completely shot. She spent most of her time fiddling away at her desk, attempting to write but then her mind would wander back to the lunch again. It was dark out by the time she decided she should at least grab some dinner but the prospect of leaving her safe space for the night made her anxious because she knew what she had to do once she returned to their quarters.

Marion gathered her things and started to head for the door when there was a soft knock on the other side. She hesitated for a moment, her feet rocking back on her heels a few times before she opened the door.

He was there. His face was dark, his expression cold as he walked in silently, surveying her office. The air began to thicken and Marion could feel it draining from her lungs. She stepped back as he stalked around her space, fingers drifting across her bookshelf and brushing the leaves of some of her plants.

“I did lie to you.” The Third mused, turning to face her again. Suddenly, he was so close to her, their chests nearly touching as he grabbed her by her chin. “Do you forget who I am? Do you forget what I am?” His grip tightened as he pushed her back until the back of her legs hit her desk.

Marion gave a small whimper, completely tongue-tied by his behavior – this was not what she was expecting. She could feel his claws start to dig into her cheeks, piercing her skin. Her entire body started to warm up, her cheeks flushing as she held his gaze. She hadn’t seen him like this in quite some time, the devious demon having been subdued since that night she had joined the clergy.

“You already accepted me. You gave yourself to me. What does it matter if we are bound together forever, Marion?” The Third’s voice still stung as he spoke but he sounded a bit softer now, a bit more gentle. He pressed his forehead against hers and she could feel the small prick of his horns.

“But what if I had said no?” She whispered shakily, staring back into his eyes. His grip on her chin tightened even more, making her gasp sharpy as he pressed his horns further against her. The Third’s lips spread into a sinister smile, his sharp teeth sparkling.

“You were never going to say no to me, amore. I think we both know that.” His hand moved from her chin to her neck, giving it a squeeze. Marion knew he was right. They were damned to be together. Their souls entwined with or without the ritual that had been performed. She swallowed thickly, her nails digging into the edge of the desk.

The Third lips crashed against hers, his tongue pushing in her mouth roughly. She tried to stifle a moan, her body pressing up against his as he kissed her possessively. His tail snaked up to Marion’s wrists, curling tightly around them to pin them behind her back. She gasped sharply, her eyes shooting open as she looked back into his dark gaze.

“This goes both ways, you know.” He whispered huskily against her lips, flicking his tongue against them. “You can command me. I must obey.” Terzo kissed the corner of her mouth, then trailed down her cheek to her jaw. She sighed at the touch and squirmed a bit in his grasp.

“Bend me over the desk.”

Her palms hit the desk so quickly, having been bent over in the blink of an eye. She braced herself against it as she pressed herself back against him. The Third tugged at her waistband teasingly before pulling her pants down, exposing her to him. He moaned at the sight, swiping his finger against her folds and giving a soft hum of approval. She was dripping for him already, having been so worked up by his treatment of her.

“You want me to fill you up, yes?” The Third growled as he gave her ass a soft smack. A low groan rumbled from her throat as her fingers curled around the edge of her desk. He dropped his pants, his thick, hard cock springing free. The pressure of his cock against her cunt made him growl, his claws digging into her ass as he pushed inside of her.

“Oh, Papa.” Marion hissed as she hiked her ass up so he could sink in even deeper. He held himself in place once he bottomed out, leaning himself over her so that her back was against his chest. His own claws laid on top of her hands, their fingers entwining as his lips met her neck.

“I love it when you call me that, amore.” The Third snarled as his fangs grazed her skin, his cock twitching inside of her. He started to roll his hips against her, the desk shaking as he thrusted, a few of Marion’s pens falling off of the desk. She was gasping sharply, scrambling to keep herself steady against the desk but she was completely pinned down under his weight.

He pressed open mouthed, wet kisses up her neck to her ear. The sound of slapping skin filled the room, mixed with grunts and breathy moans. Marion was blissed out, reduced to a whimpering mess beneath him as he fucked her.

“H-harder.” She whined as she pressed her ass further back into him.

“Anything for you, amore.” He nipped at her earlobe before he pushed himself off of her and rested his one hand on the back of her neck and buried the other in her hair. Her cheek was pinned to the desk, her mouth open as some drool spilled from her lips. His hips snapped hard into her, making her scream out in pleasure. His claws dug into her neck, hard enough to leave bruises from his grasp.

“F-fuck me, fill me up.” Marion begged, her toes curling as his thrusts grew even harder and faster, hitting her g-spot with precision. The Third’s hair was falling into his face as his pace grew more frantic, growls thundering from his chest. A string of Italian curses poured from his lips, the two of them panting and moaning until they both snapped. She cried out as she came, her body shuddering as it overcame her. He gave a strangled moan, his hips jerking and cock throbbing as he emptied himself inside of her.

He loosened his grip on her, his fingers brushing against her neck gently as he let go and slid his cock out of her with a groan. She pushed herself up and back to her feet, beginning to straighten out her sweater and then pull up her pants when his arms wrapped around her. He pulled her in close and pressed his nose to her neck.

“I am truly sorry, Marion.” Terzo whispered, his lips brushing against her neck. “I put you through so much when we first met.” He held her close as his wings started to spread around the two of them, forming something like a cocoon. His wings felt so soft and warm against her – she felt so safe, so secure in his arms.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, ever since I found you.” He was practically trembling, his breath shaky. “You invaded my thoughts in Hell. I knew I needed you. Forever.” Terzo lifted his head from her neck. She leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder as she looked up at him. “Please forgive me, Marion. I love you.”

He had never said it outloud before. Sure, she knew that he loved her. She knew that he would do anything for her. But hearing him say it outloud made her want to melt against him. All of her doubts were far away now. Marion was focused on him, on his gentle expression but she could see the regret in his eyes.

“I forgive you.” She kissed him, their lips soft against each other’s. “I love you, too, Terzo.”

#papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x female oc #terzo #terzo x female oc #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction

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countlessrealities · 5 months

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@proximasmith - from HERE

Proxima has gentle dusty-pink waves hair down to the level of her chin, and aqua-colored eyes that one could consider kind and sympathetic in other scenarios. On her Earth, her home, the light dusting of freckles was indicative of her status as a warrior that fights in the Sun Arena.

But here, years later, she's all business, even dressed in her unassuming mauve sweater hanging fashionably off of one shoulder. She looks like she fits in, here, at least. To an outsider she'd look like just another (if odd-haired) preppy Summer out to eat with her Morty and Rick, perhaps.

The Reconnaissance Specialist tries very hard not to rely on intel from other members of the Smith-Sanchez community, many of which would see a place like Haven M-42 like just another government set up to regiment the family into tidy categories. With that perspective, they have every right to be hard-headed about divulging information. But she can only hope this pair will be different.

"I have intel that you can give me information on a certain Rick that's become a problem for our organization. Well... most organizations, I suppose. Rick Prime. He's more dangerous to us for the schematics he holds rather than his charming personality, of course."

Proxima folds her hands on the table, glancing at the Morty with a little smile, but she's careful not to direct her words to him. She doesn't want him to feel pressured to contribute to anything he doesn't want to contribute to.

"...the problem being, of course, that you'd have to name your own price. I'm not sure what a Rick of your caliber might want out of the deal. Rest assured you'd be owed at least a favor for any amount of information that could point us in the right direction."

Rick doesn't much react when the name of the guy he has been hunting for forty years is mentioned, even if the gulps he takes out of his flask immediately after it is longer than the previous one. He's aware that this was what they would be discussing, so it doesn't catch him off guard. However, he can't help the revoltingly sour taste that fills his throat the mere mention of the man.

The same can't be said for Morty. If finding out that they were meeting a version of his sister has puzzled him, the mention of his biological Rick has him visibly tensing. The boy whips his head in the direction of the scientist, his expression both shocked and incensed. He can't believe that the old bastard hasn't given him heads up at least about that.

He opens his mouth, but no words leave his lips. Not just because Rick waves a hand in his direction, in a silent order for him to keep quiet, but also because he doesn't want the Summer to know about the ties he has with their shared target.

She seems nice and all, more than his original Summer and than his current one, but he can't help worrying that it would change, if she knew that, technically, he is Morty Prime.

"Y-Yeah, I know the guy," Rick speaks up, after having taken another mouthful of liquor. "W-We have...unfinished business." And what a huge understatement that is. "T-That fuckin' asshole has been More slippery than an eel covered in vaseline for too long. I-I've figure out a way to track him down, b-but the process is a pain in the ass. An-And it's taking fuckin' ages."

He puts his flask down on the table, ostentatiously setting it between his side of the table and Morty's. The teen shoots him a look, hesitates for a moment and then grabs it to get a swing himself. He's going to need some liquid courage to get through that discussion.

"Y-You wanna know my price? E-Easy. I don't work with you corporate drones as a rule, b-but I'm willing to make an exception for this." And that must say just how much he wants to find his alternate. "I-I know that the group your work with has resources. S-Shit that would make my work faster. S-So here's the deal. I-I share what I know an-and my tracking process, y-you help me find this guy s-so I can erase him from existence."

#[ threads :: Morty ]#[ threads :: c137 Rick ]#&& Proxima 'Summer' Smith || proximasmith #[ v. Forever a hundred years ; main verse :: Morty ]#[ v. Forever a hundred years ; main verse :: c137 Rick ]#proximasmith #;; queue

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petergiuliano · 1 year

Text

A Discourse on Ranch

Let’s begin with language. The English words salad and sauce both come from the same Latin root, the word sal meaning “salt”. In Latin, salsa means “salty” and salata means “salted”. Later, in Latin, “salsa” became the word for a liquid or semi-liquid food, containing salt, which is used to bring flavor to other foods. The famous garum salty fish sauce of the ancient Romans is a perfect, early example of the concept. “Salsa” entered some Latin-based languages intact (in Italian and Spanish). A different Roman dish, herba salata or “salted greens”, became the French abbreviation herbes salade and then just salade in roughly the 14th century. At about the same time in the same place, the French converted the Latin word salsa into a new French word, sauce. The point here is that salads and sauces are closely related, and come to us via the Roman Empire and particularly the French part of it. And, if you think of it, the “dressing” you put on a salad is really a sauce; it only becomes called “dressing” in English when you put it on a salad. Here, we will use “dressing” and “sauce” more or less interchangeably. But more on that later. Salads have varied in popularity over the years. At some points in history, raw salads were seen as dangerous as they still are in places where water is unsafe or raw manure is used to fertilize fields. Cooking vegetables neutralizes dangerous bacteria, after all. At other times, however, the virtues of raw-vegetable salads- especially ones based on lettuce leaves- were celebrated for being healthful and enjoyable.

"Lettuce" from the Tacunium Sanitatis, ca. 1450 One can find references to salads- accompanied with a sauce to “dress” them- throughout the culinary history of Italy, France, and even England. A memorable example comes to us from the English gentleman John Evelyn, who in 1699 composed the book “Acetaria: A Discourse on Sallets”, a complete guide to growing, preparing, and eating…. salads. Evelyn was a true salad enthusiast and passionate advocate for the healthfulness and flavor of salads, and prepared detailed notes on which plants were well-suited for cultivation and consumption. He only describes a single sauce for dressing salads, however, which he calls by the ancient Greek word oxoleon meaning “oil and vinegar”. Evelyn’s recipe includes olive oil, vinegar or citrus juice, salt, mustard, horseradish, grains of paradise (a kind of gingery pepper), and beaten eggs. This would serve as a delicious dressing even today. We can therefore think of the oil-and-vinegar mixture as the classical salad sauce, which contains four fundamental elements:

Classical Salad Dressing Formula

Something fatty (olive oil)

Something sour (vinegar)

Something salty (salt)

Something spicy (pepper, mustard, etc). Today, this formula is seen by Italians and French as the fundamental salad dressing: I once had an Italian teacher who would say “Olio, aceto, sale, pepe, e BASTA!” (“oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and DONE!!”) However, from very early times, cooks started finding ways to use other ingredients in salad sauces, either to add complexity or to substitute for the four classic ingredients above. Enter Mayonnaise

In deep history, Mediterranean cooks- probably from Spain or France- noticed that oil could be made creamy by mixing in an emulsifying ingredient: crushed garlic beaten with oil makes aioli, for example. By using various emulsifiers like egg yolk, ground mustard seeds, and even mashed potato, cooks began to emulsify oils into creamy sauces. One example of this is the French remoulade. By the 18th century, the habit of making emulsified sauces grew and mayonnaise- possibly named after the Spanish port city of Mahón- came into culinary fashion. Mayonnaise was made with oil, salt, spices like mustard and a touch of vinegar- the same basic ingredients as a vinaigrette salad dressing- and so it very naturally came to be seen as sort of a creamy version of a salad sauce. Egg yolk- a powerful emulsifier- began to be used often. Mayonnaise was used as a salad dressing for hundreds of years- indeed in the UK “Salad Cream” is a kind of mayonnaise and in the US the mayo-like Miracle Whip is marketed as “salad dressing”. In short, about 200 years ago, Europeans started using mayonnaise as a salad dressing, and using it often. Mayonnaise makes sense as a salad dressing all by itself, since it contains all of the elements of the Classical Salad Dressing formula, just emulsified together. One could also mix other elements with mayonnaise- like extra vinegar or spices- to make more complex salad dressings. The Milk-Eaters There is a great traditional divide in European cuisine between those who rely on milk products for fat and those who rely on olive oil for fat. This is often known as the “butter-olive oil divide”. Since olives thrive in the warmer climes of the Mediterranean countries, these are the “oil eaters”. Since cooler climes favor animal husbandry and make keeping milk easier, these are the “milk eaters”, who use butter, cream, and milk for their fat. It didn’t take long for the classic salad sauce dressing to encounter the oil/milk divide, and soon northern salad makers began to substitute milk or cream for the oil or mayonnaise in their salad dressings. In their 1878 cookbook “Wholesome Food”, Dr. and Mrs. Edmund Saul Dixon of London include a recipe for “Salad Mixture B”, an alternative to oil and vinegar (which was, of course, Salad Mixture A). They said Mixture B- a salad dressing based on cream, vinegar, salt and pepper, was “For those who are prejudiced against the very name of oil, often because they never tasted it; or, possibly, tasted it without knowing what it was.” Dairy-based salad dressings became popular in the northern European countries, especially Germany, Scandinavia, and England, and among immigrants from those countries to the US. In 1898, the “Home Queen Cook Book” contains 34 recipes for salad dressings, 25 of which contain dairy. Creamy dressings- white, emulsified salad sauces- became the norm in the United States, especially in rural areas where dairy was plentiful but oil was rare. The classic creamy salad dressing- sometimes boiled for thickness- followed the following formula, an adaptation of the classical salad dressing formula: Creamy Salad Dressing Formula

Something fatty (cream, milk, or butter)

Something sour (vinegar)

Something salty (salt)

Something spicy (pepper, mustard, onions)

Enter Buttermilk Every milk-eating culture has its fermented milk foods; sour cream, cultured butter, yogurt, etc. In these foods, bacterial action creates sourness, which extend shelf life and add unique tart flavors. Throughout Europe and among Northern European immigrants to the US, people used sour milk products in recipes, and eventually realized a soured milk product could be used to bring tartness to salad sauces instead of vinegar. This meant it was possible to use milk products for either or both the the “something fatty” and the “something sour” in the classic salad dressing recipe, and indeed this is exactly what people started to do. A great example is the German and American “Boiled Dressing” which uses cream, vinegar, salt and pepper, and was seen as an alternative to mayonnaise as a salad sauce. Boiled dressing was extremely popular in the 19th century and was used on a variety of salads both raw and cooked. Sour cream became a popular choice too, since it had the benefit of being both fatty and sour at once. And, finally, buttermilk: this sour-tasting byproduct of butter-making was perfect for salad dressings: it was tart, cheap, and nutritious. Buttermilk dressing became very popular, particularly in small towns in the American West and Midwest, and is represented in dozens of cookbooks from the late 19th and early 20th century. Here is a representative recipe from an Idaho Farm Bulletin in 1927: Buttermilk Dressing for Salads ½ pint thick buttermilk¼ pint mayonnaise dressing

Juice of ½ small onion

½ tsp. lemon juice

¾ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. mustard

⅛ tsp. paprika

⅛ tsp. white pepper

Fold all the ingredients into the unbeaten buttermilk.

You can see that this is just an combination of the Classical and Creamy salad dressing formulas, combining elements of both into a third salad dressing category: Buttermilk Salad Dressing Formula

Something fatty (mayonnaise)

Something sour (buttermilk)

Something salty (salt)

Something spicy (mustard, pepper, onions, herbs)

Since creamy dressings were already very popular, especially in the rural US, buttermilk dressings became popular too; they weren’t all that different from traditional cream dressings, but included soured milk, which was seen as thrifty and healthy. Now, if I were to make the buttermilk dressing above for you today, you would call it “ranch”. It is identical to many modern ranch dressings. But it wasn’t "ranch" yet. “Ranch dressing” had yet to be invented. Here’s how it happened. The “Invention” of Ranch Dressing

The creation story you’ll find about ranch dressing centers around Steve Henson, a Nebraska native who moved to Alaska in 1949 as a plumbing contractor. As the story goes, Steve would cook for his plumbing crews, and they became fond of a salad dressing he made. Henson’s success as a contractor led to an early retirement in California, where he and his wife founded the Hidden Valley Ranch, a guest ranch with a restaurant on the San Marcos pass near Santa Barbara. There, Hudson and his wife hosted legendary parties and dinners, which featured his secret invented-in-Alaska dressing, delicious steaks, and storytelling from Steve Hudson himself. Now, the question is, what was that dressing? Though the “Hidden Valley Ranch” dressing recipe has always been kept secret, former employees have said the original version of the sauce contained buttermilk, mayonnaise, onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and herbs. This recipe is clearly an example of the well-established buttermilk dressing formula above. It’s at this point we should mention that Steve Henson had what at least one of his friends, Allen Barker, called an “artistic truth... in the sense that…Steve told you what you wanted to hear.” In other words, Steve was a storyteller, a raconteur, and an embellisher of tales. The Hidden Valley Ranch wasn’t actually a ranch, it was a motel in the mountains. The bear rug in the motel, which Steve claimed he made after he killed the beast in Alaska, was actually a rug he found at a dump. Alaska seemed to be the location of many of Steve’s tall tales. Therefore, we should take the whole Alaska invention story, like all of Henson’s stories, with a grain of salt. The other Salad Dressing Craze Let’s rewind the clock a few years. In the West, the Palace Hotel in San Francisco had the reputation of being the source for many culinary trends. One of these was the Green Goddess Salad, invented by chef Philip Roemer in 1923 in tribute to the stage play of the same name. The dressing for the salad was based on mayonnaise and vinegar, flavored with the herbs tarragon, parsley, chives, along with garlic and anchovy. The herbs took center stage in this dressing, hence the name. Green Goddess salad dressing grew in popularity throughout the 20th century and by the 1950s it was celebrated by food critics and travelers as “the quintessential California salad dressing”. Premade versions even became available in markets.

Steve Henson had to have known about the Green Goddess trend, and his guests at the Hidden Valley Ranch were certainly primed to become excited about a new, secret-recipe dressing. It seems likely that Steve Hudson took a basic buttermilk dressing, sprinkled some Green Goddess-style herbs in there, and dubbed it his secret “Hidden Valley Ranch” dressing. The Alaska origin story is doubtful. Though it makes sense that Hudson might have made buttermilk dressing while cooking for big groups in Alaska (are Alaskan construction workers big salad-eaters?), he probably wouldn’t have had access to fresh herbs. It seems certain that this story was a California flourish. It was also at about this time that Hudson added another “secret ingredient” to his dressing: MSG. The “flavor enhancer” Ac’cent had become available in the 1940s, and according to insiders the Hidden Valley Ranch used it in their dressing. A dressing legend was born. Steve Henson, knowing a good thing when he saw it, began selling his dressing to neighboring restaurants. One of these, the Cold Spring Tavern, still serves Henson’s ranch dressing, alongside local favorites like barbecued tri-tip and wild game chili.

Soon, Henson began working on a spice-mix version of the dressing, which needed only to be added to buttermilk and mayonnaise to create the signature Hidden Valley Ranch flavor. This was Henson’s true invention- the idea that, instead of selling perishable dressing in a jar, he would package the “secret seasonings” for his “Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing”. These packets contained powdered garlic, powdered onions, salt, pepper, dried parsley, and MSG along with dextrin powder, a kind of starch. He began selling the packets as a dip and dressing mix, and pretty soon he shut down the guest ranch to focus solely on packet production. Henson loved to create a mystique around the brand, featuring a cowboy on the label, playing up the Alaskan origin story, and building a restaurant and supermarket clientele. Hidden Valley Ranch became so successful buyers came calling, and packets of Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing and Dip mix became popular, first in California, and then throughout the United States.

Why did Ranch become so popular?

In the 1960s, as Henson was growing the Hidden Valley Ranch dressing mix company, consumers were primed for a new dressing trend. Freshly tossed salads were becoming more fashionable, as “composed” salads- the molded salads common in the early 20th century- became passé. Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing provided an alternative to vinegar-and-oil, along with a story of Western ranches and California living. “Ranch” was a potent word in the American midcentury- remember “ranch-style homes” were a thing, “Rawhide” and “Bonanza” were the most popular shows on TV, and western style living- epitomized by Sunset Magazine- was definitely “in”. Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing fit in with multiple trends: salads as a part of healthy eating, western-ness, and- perhaps most of all- convenience. Henson’s flavoring packets- which really contained only a few herbs, spices, salt, and MSG, made it seem easy to make a restaurant-quality salad dressing at home. Henson had based his formula on dried and granulated flavorings, which were being perfected in the 1950s. And, using a spice packet along with mayonnaise and buttermilk seemed close enough to “real cooking” to make Americans feel as if they were making something special.

The Ranch Explosion

Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing began getting more and more popular- even beyond the west coast. Remember, in rural America, buttermilk dressings- and creamy soured milk-based salad dressings in general- had already been popular for more than 100 years. In places like Henson’s birthplace of Thayer, Nebraska, creamy, white salad sauces were a kitchen classic. So, in rural America, Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing had a different meaning- it was a continuation of a salad dressing tradition, a commercially available version of a homemade staple, and a tribute to the farms and ranches of middle America. Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing was one of those products that could appeal to consumers on the coasts and to rural areas equally, though for slightly different reasons.

In 1972, seeking to diversify into food products, the Clorox company bought the Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing company. This event signifies Ranch’s transition from a small-but-growing dressing brand to a full-on category. For one thing, during this time, powdered buttermilk was added to the mix, making it even easier to make: now one only needed to add fresh milk and mayonnaise to the contents of the packet. Also, Clorox began marketing premade, shelf-stable bottled dressings in supermarkets. The green flecks of dried parsley- once a big part of Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing’s appeal, began to dwindle in the recipe. These innovations made Hidden Valley Ranch even more popular- and imitators began marketing their own “Ranch” dressings. The Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing brand now was one among dozens of “ranch” dressings, which was becoming an entire category of salad dressings. But, in the great tradition of salad dressings being a sauce anyway, people used ranch for way more than just salads, serving it as a sauce for a great variety of foods. Meanwhile, the inclusion of buttermilk powder in the spice mix made it possible to sprinkle it on anything to give it a “ranch” flavor: from steaks to french fries. The ultimate example of this might be the 1986 introduction of “Cool Ranch” Doritos, which included buttermilk powder, dried garlic, onion, and MSG. Nowadays, any tangy, creamy dressing with onions and garlic will be instantly identified as “ranch”, and any product sprinkled with dried buttermilk and onion and garlic powder will instantly seem “ranch-flavored”. In Conclusion

Today, the ranch dressing phenomenon seems like a weird American quirk. For one thing, it is a goopy, white sauce, laden with fat, salt, and flavorings. Consumers can be seen dipping onion rings and pizza crusts in ranch, and it has become the mandatory sauce served with “hot wings”, a version of deep-fried chicken. Ranch has developed an identity as a tacky indulgence, a proletarian addiction, and the epitome of common bad taste. In truth, however, Ranch dressing is a sauce which has in its history the classical Mediterranean, European cuisine, and the American frontier. It’s a sauce that- under different names- has been with us for hundreds of years. Its re-invention is in many ways the classic American story: Steve Henson took an old recipe and gave it a clear, new, romantic identity. Big food turned it into an inexpensive, abundant, shelf-stable product that could be eaten more or less daily.

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thedivinelights · 2 years

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Pairings: Ebenezer Scrooge/Isabel Fezziwig

Summary:

Ebenezer Scrooge has spent these past two years fixing bonds he had destroyed, building bridges that he had burned. No more did people look upon him and fear. It was safe to say his future was averted.

Then the cracks began to appear, showing him the one he had carelessly thrown away years ago. He knew there was more to be done.

Perhaps happiness was not fully out of his reach just yet

The day had begun like any other for Isabel. She got up from her cold bed and opened the windows to let the cool winter breeze into the home. She went to her dressing table to prepare. She thought about what was going to be on the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She thought about what rooms still needed cleaning...

Isabel sighed, stopping midway from tying her hair up into her usual bun. She hadn't noticed before, but she seemed to care less and less about her appearance as the years grew on. The hours spent curling and combing were now down to mere minutes and the corsets she wore were hardly as fashionable. She was going through a dull routine with a marriage she wasn't even sure she wanted anymore.

She looked upon herself in the mirror, and wondered... how many years have gone by? How many years has it been since she said goodbye? She had become so incredibly numb to a life of tedium and petty trivialities that she had forgotten the woman she was before. To the days when she was but a young, carefree and stubborn woman who cared not whether she was wed to another.

Isabel gave a bittersweet smile. She remembered when she left Ebenezer, her father comforting her in her time of need. He had been supportive of her every decision throughout her life, but the old man began to worry she would end up all alone in the end. Not long after that was when she was introduced to Solomon. They had met during one of her father's gatherings, with Solomon only a budding lawyer and an understudy to his father. She thought they hit it off rather well, Solomon being a charming, sweet, and charismatic young man at the time. Both of their fathers agreed that they would be perfect together.

And so, she was arranged to marry him the month after in January, with Ambrose arriving late in October. Her father had been rather insistent on getting the wedding all set as soon as possible, to avoid a similar outcome to before.

For a while, they had been happy. She had gifted Solomon a handsome son. She got the life she desired, the love she thought Ebenezer refused to give her.

Until the year when Elizabeth came into the world, where her father went bankrupt and the business had been forced to close down, leaving thousands without work. He had died shortly after, the stress clearly taking its toll on him.

She thought to do something for those poor employees, only for Solomon to sharply shut her down with a cold look she had not seen in him before. It was a gaze she saw continue to grow the more he moved up the ranks and became one of England's greatest attorneys. She realised then that the man she had married was not the same sweet and charming man she had fallen in love with. That the man she married was naught but a ruse that he cast aside the moment this arrangement grew sour.

He had not even been there when Beatrix — her youngest — was born, citing that work had been piling up and he could not just leave it unattended to oversee it, only showing up for a baby shower to keep up appearances. It felt like the final straw for her, but she could not take off her ring as she did before. She had been stuck with him for the long run, with Elizabeth and Beatrix being her only comfort.

Isabel shook her head, the sounds of shouting derailing her thoughts. She quickly tied her hair up and got dressed for the day, making her way down the steps only to find Ambrose yelling at one of the maids.

"I say, do you truly believe that this is clean?!" He yelled out, pointing at but a small speck of dust upon the marble floor. The servant had shrunken at his words, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

"Pray excuse me, sir, I assure you that this shall not occur again."

"Cease your nonsensical prattle!" Ambrose gave a vexed growl at the woman's stupidity, "You are most lucky that my father is not here. If it were within my power, I should be most inclined to dismiss you from your position!"

"Ambrose!" Isabel scolded, finally reaching the bottom of the steps, "What is the meaning of this?!"

Her son gave a scowl as she moved to the shaken maid, placing a hand upon her shoulder, "Are you alright, my dear? Go, make haste. I shall handle things from here."

The maid nodded her head vigorously before swiftly making her way out of the dinette, Ambrose keeping his gaze upon her until he shifted it to his mother with scorn etched upon his features.

"Mother, you should not be defending her. She is merely a servant and must be held to a higher standard of cleanliness," Ambrose said sternly, causing Isabel to shake her head, her hands clenching slightly.

"I could not fathom standing idly by while you scolded that unfortunate maidservant. She was merely fulfilling her duties!"

"If she was fulfilling her duties, there wouldn't be this speck of dirt now, would there?" He pointed to the speck in question, "I am merely trying to keep this household in order and maintain proper standards in Father's absence. It is your fault that I have to be the one to do it, Mother. You were too lenient with the staff and now I must clean up the mess."

Isabel was stung by Ambrose's words. She had done all she could to try and ease the burden of the staff, overseeing much of the chores herself. They didn't have many staff in the household anyway, but it appeared that he had loathed all of them.

"I understand that, Ambrose, and I am sorry. But that does not give you the right to belittle and yell at those who are serving under us. They are working hard and doing their best. We must treat them with kindness and respect, not with anger and contempt." Isabel said softly, trying to reason with her son.

"Kindness and respect? For the staff? That is absurd, mother. They are beneath us and must be treated as such." Ambrose spat out, his face contorted with disgust.

Isabel's heart broke at the sight of her son, so full of hatred and anger. She knew that it was her own fault, her own choices that had led to this. But she also knew that she had to try and fix it, for her own sake and for the sake of her children.

"Ambrose, please. I understand that you are trying to uphold the traditions of society, but we must remember that these people are human beings, just like us. They have feelings and emotions, and they deserve to be treated with dignity and compassion."

"Compassion for the lower classes? You are becoming more and more like that old miser every day, Mother," Ambrose sneered, "Do you not remember how he cast you aside for his own selfish gain? And yet you still defend him, still try to make excuses for his actions. You are a fool, Mother. A fool who cannot see the truth."

Isabel's heart twisted at the mention of Ebenezer, their conversations from before still ringing in her ears, "I am not defending him, Ambrose. I am only trying to remind you that we all make mistakes, and it is up to us to learn from them and try to be better. We must strive to treat others with kindness, no matter their social standing or circumstances."

"I shall do no such thing, Mother. I will not stoop myself to the level of the lower classes. I am a Rothschild, and I shall behave as such." Ambrose said haughtily, turning on his heel and storming out of the room, leaving Isabel alone with her thoughts and regrets.

"Mother?"

Isabel didn't turn around to face her, but she knew who the voice belonged to. She was barely in her early twenties, her blond hair in a neat bun with a pink fascinator. She looked on, her grey eyes betraying concern.

"Will you father be coming home, Beatrix?"

She shook her head, "More work, it seems. Elizabeth is out as well; she's currently on her way to the orphanage."

When her mother did not reply, Beatrix gingerly moved towards her, reaching her hand out before retracting it.

"Are you well, Mother?"

Isabel let out a heavy sigh, "I am fine, dear. Just a little overwhelmed."

"Is it Ambrose?"

"Yes, it is. I fear that he has become too wrapped up in these frivolous notions of social propriety."

She curled a strand of her hair, a motion she did whenever she felt stressed, "And... And regarding your father as well. I fear he has been spending far too much of his time ago work, losing sight of those that are truly important to him."

"Like us?"

Isabel tensed, but gave a slow, shaky nod in response, "Yes, like us. His family, his loved ones. It seems that he has forgotten about us in pursuit of his own ambitions."

Beatrix wrapped her arms around Isabel, giving her a comforting hug, "I am sorry, Mother. I know how hard it is for you. But please don't worry. I am sure that Father will come to his senses eventually and realize what he has been missing out on."

Isabel hugged her daughter back, tears welling up in her eyes, "I hope so, Beatrix. I really do. But sometimes, I fear that it may be too late."

They stayed like that for a few moments, before Isabel pulled away, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Beatrix, but I think I need a while to clear my head. Do you mind-"

"Not to worry, Mother." Beatrix gave a cheerful grin, "I shall take care of things from here."

She looked at the young woman before her, a reminder of who she was. She was proud she had someone she could still rely on in these times; it gave her the courage to do the same for others.

Quickly fixing up her hair, she made to grab her coat hanging near the main door leading out of the house, placing it upon herself before heading out into the streets. The fresh air and the bustling crowds of people did much to calm Isabel's nerves as she walked aimlessly through the city. Her mind was a jumbled mess, thoughts of Ambrose's stubbornness and Solomon's neglect swirling around in her head.

The streets were surprisingly quiet that morning, although that was probably due to the early hours. Many of the shops had just began to open, and she had been wandering through the city for a while until a bright and colourful shop caught her eye.

Jenkins' Toys & Games.

It was a store that Elizabeth had recommended for the children at the orphanage, and she was surprised to hear that her daughter had gained knowledge of this place from Ebenezer himself. He hardly seemed like the type to look at children's playthings, but then again, there was much she did not know about him now.

Perhaps I shall buy one for my butler's son. She had thought, finally making the decision to step inside. Her eyes had to adjust to the bright reds and purples of the lights but was immediately enthralled by all of the wondrous toys stocked upon the shelves. Teddy bears, toy trains, even nutcrackers for the holiday season. She looked around, mesmerised by everything until the shopkeeper himself moved towards her.

"First time here, eh?" Tom nudged, "What can I get ya for?"

Isabel explained her predicament to Tom, who was more than happy to help her pick out a toy the young boy would like. Eventually, they had decided upon a nutcracker with a green and red uniform with gold trimmings. After picking out the toy, Isabel pulled out a few coins from her reticule, a few more than she needed.

"Here is some extra for the trouble, Mr. Jenkins."

Tom waved his hands out in protest, "No need to do so, my lady! I'm afraid Mr. Scrooge gives me too much as it is, I don't wish to take more than I need."

This got her interest piqued, "He does? How so?"

Tom rubbed the back of his head, "He provides me with a small fund to keep the business going, you see. Just enough to pay for the house and all that."

"I never knew him to be so charitable."

"Neither did I!" He laughed, "I used to owe him money you know. Two years ago, I would've have gone under if I didn't manage to pay my dues in time. But then, out of nowhere, I get an invitation to a gathering at his house for Christmas! 'Course, I was skeptical, but I went anyway and he cancelled all of my debt, just like that!"

He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point, leaving Isabel stunned.

"Ebenezer did that for you?" She asked, her mind racing with the information.

"Yes, ma'am. And he's been helping me out ever since, even though I'm not sure I deserve it. But I'm grateful, truly. He's not the same man he used to be, I think the holiday season brings out the best in him."

Isabel couldn't believe what she was hearing. Ebenezer, helping others? It was hard to imagine, especially after how he had treated her all those years ago. She had always known he was a successful businessman and that he had changed a lot in these past years, but she had never thought he would be so generous to those in need.

"Well, I'm glad he's changed for the better." Isabel said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Tom noticed the change in her demeanour and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Is everything alright, my lady?"

Isabel forced a smile and nodded, "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for the assistance, Mr. Jenkins. It has been a delight to speak with you."

"Anytime, my lady. You have a good day now, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to come back."

"I will, thank you." Isabel said with a small bow, turning to leave the store with her gift in hand.

She decided that she would spend more time exploring the avenue, enjoying the last rays of the morning sun before she began to see more people crowd the streets. The small, quiet roads began to bustle with cheer and goodwill. Christmas shoppers were out in full force, and while Isabel would have usually found herself caught up in the excitement as well, she couldn't help but grow increasingly numb to the sounds.

She had barely spent a few minutes after leaving the store, however, when she spotted a small group of youths hanging up advertisements for Scrooge & Cratchit Savings and Loans. Isabel couldn't help but stop and watch, a small smile forming on her lips as she remembered how Ebenezer used to be so full of life and energy.

"Hey, miss!" A voice called out to her, breaking her out of her reverie. She turned to see a young girl, Beryl, approaching her with a friendly smile. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, no, I was just curious." Isabel replied, returning the smile. "I saw you hanging up those posters and I couldn't help but stop and watch."

"Oh, we're just getting paid by old Scrooge to advertise his business. He's a bit shorthanded, y'see." Beryl said with a laugh. "I can't believe we actually got invited to his Christmas party this year!"

"Really?" Isabel asked, surprised. "I never would have thought Ebenezer would have a Christmas party, let alone invite people. Usually, people would have to invite him to get him to do anything this time of year."

"Yeah, it's crazy! But he's been really nice to us lately, always paying us on time and even giving us extra for the holidays." Beryl explained.

"Us? You're the one hogging our hard-earned coin, Beryl!" Mickey yelled out, almost falling off of the crate that he had been standing on. Luckily, the other two boys were there to keep him from tumbling to the cobblestone below.

Beryl gave a glare, "Oh shush, Mickey!"

Isabel chuckled at the exchange, "Well, it's nice to see that Ebenezer is doing well and helping out others. I'm happy for him."

Beryl's face lit up, "Oh, you know Mr. Scrooge?"

"Yes, I do. We used to be... close a long time ago." Isabel said slowly and rather cryptically, a pang of sadness hitting her as memories of her times with Ebenezer flooded back.

"Oh, well... I'm sure he's sorry for whatever he did to hurt you." Beryl said, a look of understanding on her face, "He's sure sorry for everything he did in the past. Apologises more often than not."

Isabel smiled, "Thank you... Beryl, was it? I appreciate your kind words. It's good to hear that Ebenezer is doing some good for himself."

Beryl looked back at her with a grin, before pointing her thumb back to her mess of a group, "Well, we best get back to work. It was great speaking with you, Miss...?"

"Isabel. Call me Isabel. And it was good to speak with you as well."

She gave the girl and her friends a small wave as she walked away, a newfound sense of hope swelling within her heart. She had been too quick to dismiss his changes before, even after saying that she forgave him. There was still that small part of resentment within her for what he did, and she wasn't sure if she would ever forget. But after hearing the generous acts he had given to those around him... the way people spoke fondly of him after years of scorn... it gave her peace. Optimism.

And if people could say that about Ebenezer Scrooge, the miserly, selfish, disgruntled man who once cared naught for others... maybe there was a chance for Solomon to receive the same.

She spent much of her time trapped in her own thoughts about Ebenezer and Solomon, not even noticing until it was too late when she felt herself bump into someone and stumbled back.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" She apologised profusely, the man she stumbled into turning around with a smile.

"Not to worry, ma'am! Happens to the best of us!" He laughed loudly, before taking a closer look upon her features, "I-I'm sorry, have we met before?"

Isabel's eyes widened, the realisation as to who this man was suddenly hit her as she gazed into his blue eyes. She debated upon whether or not to tell him who she was but decided that there would be no harm in doing so.

"You're Harry Huffam, are you not?" Isabel asked, turning to the woman next to him, "And you must be Hela. Ebenezer told me about you two."

Harry's eyes widened, "You know of my uncle?"

Isabel nodded, her smile widening, "My name is Isabel, and I knew you and your mother as well. You were only but a babe when we last saw each other, however. Jen and I... we were good friends, a long time ago."

She held a hand to her heart, the silence between them almost palpable. Harry remained stunned for a few moments, before a grin spread upon his face and he hugged her tightly, causing Isabel to yelp out in shock.

"Well then, a friend of my mother is a friend of mine! I should love to hear stories about her, if you'd be interested?"

Hela agreed with the sentiment, "Perhaps you may join us in the Christmas dinner that Uncle Ebenezer has planned in the coming days? You can bring your family as well!"

Isabel gently waved her hands out, feeling rather embarrassed at the whole situation, "No, no, I should hate to impose..."

"Nonsense!" Harry patted her on the back, "I'm quite sure my uncle wouldn't mind having a dear friend of his be part of such a wondrous occasion!"

A dear friend would be an understatement, to say the least. Isabel gave a small chuckle. Harry reminded her so much of Jen it almost made her heart ache. The memories of their friendship and the time they spent together causing her to form a bittersweet smile, almost one of pity.

"Perhaps it would be lovely to join you for Christmas dinner. Thank you for the invitation."

Harry beamed at her, clasping his hands together and bouncing up and down in excitement, "Excellent! I'll make sure to let Uncle Ebenezer know. It'll be a joy to have you there!"

As they said their goodbyes and parted ways, Isabel couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the thought of seeing Ebenezer again. It had been a bit of a while since they had last spoken, and she couldn't deny the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

She took out a small, golden pocket watch from her person, noticing that she had been out for a while. It was already almost twelve, nearing the time when Solomon would have his luncheon. Her smile widened.

Maybe she could visit his office and gift him some of her homemade lunch. It was nearing Christmas, after all.

#ebenezer scrooge #isabel fezziwig #2022 scrooge #scrooge: a christmas carol #scrooge a christmas carol #a Christmas carol #netflix scrooge #scrooge netflix

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sitpwgs · 1 year

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Hi! Ya I was curious about the extra bonus track..but some people said it might just be a remix so I wasn't too sure about it. I like the color though and how it also matches one of her 1989 outfits on tour like people were saying. But I kinda wonder why she is doing so much for 1989..similar to Midnights with the extra bonus track and different covers..but I think she just wants it to be really successful over the original version. I may buy one for the car eventually but it also won't have the bonus song so idk. I loved her VMAS look and after-party look..and how she wore a dress similar to Sabrina's and hung out with Selena! I love that they're still close.

Ooh that concert should be fun and I'm happy you got tickets! Hopefully she works on stage presence too. The whole album has grown on me more..especially Get him back, but i have the same favorites. Ooh yes I am hoping to listen to Laufey, Mitski and Madison Beer soon. They all kinda have a slow style and almost old fashioned sound which I like. I would say it was true for Billie's other album as well if you listen to it. But Olivia's was actually more rockish lol...so I really just like it all.

I never saw Ride the Cyclone but have heard good things about it. I guess I'm not as familiar with some off Broadway stuff for the most part but that's cool. I hope we can both like Broadway again soon. But I see you watched the Little Mermaid movie and so did I! It's nice thinking we both did the same thing near each other like with the Eras tour..and hopefully with seeing the tour movie too. Anyway I thought it was mostly fine..but also good. But I mostly enjoy all the remakes..cuz I already know what I'm getting so I can't be too disappointed. But anyway..ya new songs sometimes always feel unnecessary anyway. I knew it was Lin beforehand but also you can always kinda hear Lin's style too so it's interesting you didn't know. But it was more obvious in Encanto than here. I'm still a fan of his though! But I will watch any musical movie and at least somewhat enjoy it lol. I am also using it as an opportunity to watch the Cinderella with Brandy and Bernadette Peters finally..and hoping to watch the new Theater Camp movie that's now on Hulu. I'm also looking forward to seeing her in the Color Purple movie when it comes out, since I thought she was a pretty good Ariel. What were your thoughts? I get the idea that ya it doesn't really need to be remade cuz we have stage versions too so sometimes it's just kinda okay..I think they're all pretty equal to me.

I'm glad you're feeling better! I wasn't feeling as well either which is why I didn't reply right away. But I've also more offline and trying to read more too. I will hopefully be done with Some Mistakes Were Made by the end of this week..maybe. since I am now trying to read more books in the readathon and focus on that. I will probably put The Night Circus in cozy fantasy then, and finishing up picking for the other categories. I don't really listen to audiobooks cuz I get too distracted or can't focus on it. It would have to be a good one too..a lot of the ones I'm familiar with is just like reading out loud so I don't usually listen to them..but i could see how it might make you enjoy the book more if the audio was good. I'm glad you are reading more books you enjoy and getting more done for the readathon. I will definitely look into any book you love or recommend! Have a good week!

hi hello!! i'm definitely curious to see what she ends up doing in terms of remixes for 1989 tv! and i've seen some theories about her alternating between not a lot of promo and then a lot of promo, which is cool — and would make sense with rep being an album with not a lot of promo which means (in my delusional brain) that debut would have a lotttt of promo !! i do not think that's true, but i would love it if debut finally got paid its dues. unfortunately, the different covers is just the norm now; i think sour & guts both had ~ 15/16 variants, most artists have at least 3 but a lot of them usually have more, it's just a marketing/sales thing, unfortunately. and yes!! i think it's so cute how close they are <3

i listened to the new laufey last week but haven't had time to relisten and so i do not have favorites for you yet! i've actually never listened to madison beer, but tiktok keeps pushing her on me so i might give her album a go soon! and the new mitski — i am just very behind on music lately (been listening to audiobooks instead) but i am very excited to give the new mitski a go! one of my best friends got to go to an early listening party in a planetarium for the new mitski, and that experience sounded SO cool. guts has definitely grown on me a lot more; i think i like it more than sour, but that might be recency bias.

i saw ride the cyclone twice in seattle, and it is just such a weird little musical that i love with my entire heart! i love odd little shows that just make me think, and ride the cyclone definitely is one of those shows. i'm seeing the national tour of hadestown in a few weeks which i'm super excited for; i've seen it on broadway twice, but missed the tour last year when they were in seattle (got into seattle and then found out they cancelled my performance twenty minutes before doors opened). and i just got tickets to go see a regional performance of the band's visit when i'm in boston this fall, so i'm super stoked! i hope you're also able to love broadway again soon 🤍

and yes!! i love that! 🥺 i think i was a little disappointed by the remake? i don't usually like remakes though (aside from live action cinderella). i really loved halle bailey as ariel, but was a bit let down by jonah h-k as eric (and sent my friend caitlyn several voice memos about how his eric reminds me of how he plays laurie in PBS little women) vocally but also just wasn't the biggest fan of his characterization/interpretation! i think the remake also just didn't do a whole lot for me, which is fine! the pacing felt very drawn out, i wish the costumes were a bit brighter in color, and i think some of the casting was interesting, but i really loved daveed diggs as sebastian! i haven't actually wanted encanto but i keep meaning to!

i'm SO excited for theatre camp! i think i'm watching it on friday with a friend; i love molly gordon, and will watch anything for her haha. the color purple remake looks so good, i saw a trailer of it when i watched barbie and it looks amazing!! in general though, i really have mixed feelings because i don't think everything needs to be a remake — i think some things work better as proshots vs. remakes, and sometimes i just get sad because there are perfectly good actors who can sing well that we can cast in musicals and a lot of remakes/movie musicals don't do that (this isn't about any cast/movie in particular, just an overarching generalization).

i hope you're feeling better!! i feel like everyone is getting sick/ill lately :( take care of yourself, friend! i haven't really been doing the readathon as much as i want to either — jamie and i were briefly talking about doing an october / nov / dec one instead (i have some prompt ideas, might just post them to encourage the besties to read more if people are interested)! do you have anything fun planned for this weekend? what are you currently reading/watching/listening? 🤍

#post: answered #🩷 anon

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crazy-random-bookworm-17 · 1 year

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I wanted to talk to somebody. I don't have a therapist.

(I am a mutual of yours but I hope you understand that I don't want you to know who I am. I already feel ashamed enough. I really don't want anybody's pity. Just someone to talk to honestly and from my heart.)

We're in a place that's very religious. My family is super religious but me, not so much. See, the religion itself and what it represents simply doesn't resonate with me.

I'm going away to college very soon (in a month). My father wanted to sow that religious seed in me. He doesn't realise that the more he tries the more I'm gonna get tired of it and hate it.

When you try to force something on a person which they don't necessarily like, it's gonna make them dislike it more.

And see, its very very hot (40 degrees) and my skin doens't do well in the sun. I don't burn in the sun, but I've got eczema and sweat is not good for it and UV rays? Very very bad. I feel itchy all over and it so goddamn hard for me to even sit in one place.

In this condition they make me walk 3-4 miles a day to visit temples that I'm so not interested in and oh my god the photos.

It's a 7 day trip and I feel like dying. To make things worse, my father criticizes everything I wear saying it just doesn't make sense. Example: today I wore a wrap dress that ties around the waist. He looked me from head to toe and said that the tie should be lower and that the way its tied it makes me look not good.

I said that it's the way the dress comes and the tie stays in place. I can't lower it. I may have gotten annoyed and talked harshly but you can blame that on my sour mood this whole week.

He said that whoever designed the dress didn't know what they were doing and ended the convo. And I ofc, felt very insecure and kept pulling on my dress that I'd thought looked so good on me. I know that he doesn't know shit about fashion but still. It really really bothers me.

All this aside, I'm having somewhat of a crisis. The people here are so very pretty and wear simple clothing and I feel overdressed and like everybody is staring at me like I'm some abomination. I feel ugly. The sun's ruining my hair and God to make all this even worse, I forgot my sunscreen at home and idk what's gonna happen to my sensitive skin. I hate my face. Why does my hair get frizzy like that. I've got dark circles because of little to no sleep (we're travelling at night, spend the day at the particular place and then travel again, next place and so on.)

I feel worthy of nothing. I hate the looks my mother gives me literally drenched in pity. Yes I feel very bad and I'm not happy but pity makes it all worse.

I've never been that insecure about the way I look except for the occasional bad days where you hate everything that is you for no reason. No reason at all. You just. Hate yourself. Idk how to explain it.

I am short and people think my mother starves me. I can pass as a 12 year old when in reality I'm 17. Why am I the way I am. Why was I born in this family where body shaming is an everyday thing. My brother constantly calls me a mouse and maybe he means it affectionately but it still.. affects me yk. My mother forcing food until I feel like I'm gonna puke. She asks me to do skipping so I can grow an inch. See, me doing it on my own for my own health is different. But other people (yes even my own mother) making me do it is just.. not good yk.

Honestly, I understand part of what you're going through, especially the last paragraph, but sort of inversed. I'm sort of chubby, so I also understand that sort of thing, with my brother calling me nicknames (I don't know if they're affectionate or not) my parents (mostly my mom) making contsant comments and trying to make me exercise... I sort of appreciate it cause I can't motivate myself very well, but I also understand what you mean by it just not being good or effective. I really understand all of that; we're in opposite ends, sure, but we're in the same boat.

As for the rest, such as the religious aspect, I can't really relate to, but I'm going to try to give you some sort of advice and confort you anyways, even if you don't need it (bear with me though). I understand the part of you wanting to dislike something even more when someone tries to force you to like it.

I would suggest having a serious converstion with both your parents about...everything. But I feel like you can suggest that yourself; there's probably something that's preventing you from doing it (the fact that they're your parents, the fact that you already tried, etc).

For the frizzyness of the hair, if no one's restricting you, I would suggest a sort of binding hairstyle? A bun, or if that's too heavy for your head, a braid. If your parents forbid it, maybe try saying that your hair will look better this way, that it accentuates curls, and that you'll take it out when you get there?

Try maybe to wear very thin (heat) but skin-covering (excema) clothing. Buy a new sunscreen asap! Maybe some sort of cream for the excema? I can't quite suggest anything because I don't use those sort of products, but I think you should.

About the feeling ugly part, at times we just can't help it. We have a shit day, and we feel like crap in every and all aspects; we can't help this. But, it's so, so important to (at least try to) not compare yourself to others. There was this one video I saw that I feel would sort of accentuate what I'm trying to say, but I can't find it. The idea was that one girl was eating chips and felt like she should be more healthy and fit like another girl she saw. Cut to that other girl and her thoughts, and she felt weak from the diet she was on, and just wanted to regain her energy like a very loud and energetic person she saw across the street. Cut to this person, who is chiding themself for being so loud, and wanted to be calm and reserved like one of their friends. And this cycle continued. The idea is that maybe you feel inferior to them, while they may be feeling the same thing about you. Try your best to think of that. This is gonna be really cheesy but I also speak a quote to you (I don't know who wrote it, and I'm paraphrasing): "A bottle of water is 50 cents in the grocery store, $1.50 in a vending machine, $4 at the gym, and $9.50 on an airplane. The next time you feel as if you're worthless, maybe you're in the wrong place." The same thing can apply here. Maybe you're just not in the right place. I bet you're in a supermarket. Hopefully college will be the airplane.

And I totally understand that you might not want me to know who you are, no pressure! I hope you feel better. Look at the bright side: at least college is coming soon (ish) so this won't go on forever. Try your best to pay attention to the nicer things in life as well, even though I understand this is really difficult for you. Just don't lose sight of them.

I apologize if that's not what you wanted to hear. To be honest I'm pretty shit at comforting people, but I tried realy hard. I really don't mean to insult you to offend you in any way, if that's how it comes across. A lot of my advice is probably useless and you've probably thoughts of it anyway. If any of that is true, I hope at least the thought counts. If you want to say something else my ask box is always open (and feel free to drop criticism about my response or ask me to say something specifically).

I hope the trip isn't too bad. I wish you the best of luck, confidence, the Vibes, and everything else. Manifesting that it isn't too terrible and that it's over soon. Whoever you are, I love you <33 and I'm sending you support.

If you want to boost your mood I'm gonna drop a meme, probably a terrible one haha. If not, just scroll past really fast. I tried to cut it off but the "expand" feature disabled my cut. Sorry about that.

#long ask #ask #anonymous

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shotorozu · 3 years

Text

encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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carlosfruitsnacks · 3 years

Text

"Good old-fashioned loverboy"

summary:

— Camilo has found himself smitten by a certain someone in town, the rest of the Madrigal family is willing to do everything in their power to get him and that someone together

genre:

— songfic, fluff

notes:

— gender-neutral reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong though I will refrain from using too much Spanish. This also takes place after Casita was rebuilt.

warning/s:

— none

He has seen you before but never did he fully take the time to really look at you. It was that Camilo realizes he made a mistake, he should've looked at you a long time ago whenever he caught your figure in the corner of his eye. You looked so heavenly. He gets ecstatic when you smile, his heart flutters when he hears you laugh. Your existence just had him high and head over heels in love with you.

Though Camilo was hopelessly stuck admiring you from afar. He'll let out a heavy sigh with a sad smile upon his lips, wishing he part of your world. Of course, he thought about saying hello to you but when he got at least a meter away from you, his body began to convulse with utter nervousness. He thought he was the most confident in the Madrigal family, yet here you are turning him to the exact opposite without even trying. He was terrified of saying something wrong or accidentally causing something that you'll find distasteful and will drive you further away. His heart couldn't handle it.

Camilo sighs for the nth time, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he gazed out of the window. He watched you play with the children, it was endearing. He even thought about shapeshifting into one of the kids and blending in if it means getting close to you, then he chickened out, thinking he'll screw up and you'll find out it was him then you'll say something that will shatter him and-

"Dios mio, hermano, when will you stop ogling [Name]?"

Camilo chokes on his spit the turns to see Dolores and his cousins. Dolores had her arms crossed, looking unpleased, the others looked equally the same. His flustered face was replaced with a roll of his eyes.

"Cállate, my fascination for them is none of your business"

He tells them. Isabela scoffs, annoyed by her primo's reply.

"You're such a cobarde, Camilo"

Isabela says. His face turns sour at the insult. He turns to look at her and sticks out his tongue at her. Camilo gets back to admiring you by the windowsill, you were telling stories to the children with a glimmer in your eyes. He hears you laughing and his heart simply flutters. It was disgustingly obvious that he was lovestruck with you, and it was annoying the majority of the Madrigals.

"Come on, primo. When are you planning to confess?"

Maribel groans. But she was ignored by Camilo who was busy enjoying the sight of you from afar. He looked beyond smitten, if it was possible, there were hearts in his eyes and it's driving the rest of the grandchildren insane.

"¡Esto es tan molesto! We have to do something about this"

Dolores exclaims. And like the big-brained older sister that she was, an idea pops in her head. She tells the others to acquire help from their parents. Basically, they were going to set you and Camilo up in hopes it would make him confess. The others cheered and immediately started discussing the parts of the plan until they scattered away to begin.

As Camilo woke up, he sensed something different. He couldn't point his finger at what was wrong so he decided to shrug it off. After he got dressed, he exits his room and was suddenly greeted by his mother who had an enormous rainbow over her head.

"¡Buenos dias hijo mio!"

Pepa smiles then reach out to plant a kiss on his cheek. Camilo giggles at the sudden affection.

"Buenos dias, mamá. You're in a pleasant mood today, what's up?"

He asks his mother, she only replies with a soft chuckle as she gently caressed her son's hair.

"Ah, look at you, mi niño precioso, all grown up!"

Camilo raised a brow at the immediate but small raincloud above her hair, raindrops were falling slowly as tears form in the corner of Pepa's eyes. He was so confused as to why his mother was suddenly sentimental, not that he minded. Pepa sniffs and wipes her tears before they could fall.

"Let's get down and eat some breakfast"

She says and all of a sudden her raincloud disappears, a burst of rainbows spawned above her head as Camilo follows his mother downstairs. When they entered the kitchen, Félix grins at his son and approaches him.

"¡Ahí está mi chico! How are you feeling?"

Weirdly enough his father is being affectionate like his mother, Camilo furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

"I'm fine, papá..."

Félix pats him on the back. Camilo shakes his head at him, his tía Julieta's smile seemed bigger than usual as she serves him his favorite breakfast. His eyes light up as he begins to eat, Julieta gives him a pat on the head but he paid it no mind. After breakfast, he starts to prepare for his chores for today when Abuela halts him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Camilo, I see that you've been working hard this week"

"Sí, Abuela"

"Why don't you take a break today, mi nieto"

Abuela smiles at him. Camilo was aware of how his grandmother has been practicing being less strict and it's been paying off yet he was shocked by this.

"¿Pero por qué? Today is Wednesday, and we all take breaks on Saturday"

Camilo hears Abuela chuckling softly and it gives him an odd filling in his gut.

"I believe you deserve a break so why don't you relax for today, Camilo?"

He was about to protest but Abuela leaves him, he stands for a few seconds, still processing what just happened, and then shrugs. Camilo supposes that he'll relax for today, after all, who is he to deny a break for the entire day? He was about to go chill in his room when his little brother come rushing to him, his face full of panic.

"Camilo, Camilo!"

"Woah, there, slow down hombrecito, what's wrong?"

He leans down and gives Antonio a concerned look.

"Tío Agustín got into an accident, one of the pelicans told me! Can you go get him, I'm worried"

Antonio insists, he sighs.

"Ay, alright. I'll bring him home for tía Julieta"

Camilo ruffles Antonio's hair and heads outside. He takes the path to town, his eyes scan around for his accident-prone tío. He makes his way to the town's square and he still hasn't found his tío Agustín, he takes a rest for a second when Antonio's pelicans show up. They squawk at him then began leading him somewhere. Bewildered, Camilo lets the pelicans take him to the fountain in the center of the entire square. The pelicans abruptly fly away and leave him scratching his head.

"What the hell was that?"

He muttered but then turns around, he bumps into somebody, his eyes meet with the color of [Eye Color]. Air gets knocked out of his lungs, a scream gets stuck in his throat and his blood turns cold. It was you.

"Oh sorry! I didn't see you there, Camilo"

Dios mio, his name coming from your lips sounds breathtaking

"I..uh...sorry"

Camilo stutters. He momentarily looks away from you and to his horror, saw his cousins and siblings a few feet behind you, giving him a thumbs up. It all comes crumbling down to him. Why his mother and father were awfully cheerful and why Antonio being insistent on fetching his tío Agustín when he wasn't even in an accident! He was being set up! Camilo sends a glare at them but his frustration melts away when you set your hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Camilo?"

You ask. Camilo felt pathetic because he couldn't say a single thing, mierda this is the time where he should make an impression! Oh no, it's over. You're going to think he's a fool and it will ruin the chance for him to get to know you or tell you how he feels and-wait why does he hear a piano playing?

Camilo finds his tío Agustín, injury-free, and playing the piano. Dolores shows up beside his tío, his eyes watched her with sheer puzzlement.

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things, we can do the tango just for two"

His sister begins. Isabela makes an appearance and it only made it harder for Camilo to process what the fuck is happening.

"I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings. Be your Valentino just for you"

Isabela sings. Within a second, the rest of his cousins and his sibling pop up beside the piano, also drawing the attention of the townsfolk.

"Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy"

They sing in unison. Camilo turns to see your reaction, you were pleasantly surprised by the sudden singing.

"What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy?"

Dolores refers to Camilo, her eyes beckoning him to make a move but he's still in a state of shock. Unable to say if all of this was a good idea.

"Set my alarm, turn on my charm. That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy"

His sister continues, still encouraging him. Camilo has never felt embarrassed and nervous in his entire life, the only thing saving him is your smile while watching his family sing.

"Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat"

Dolores makes her way towards the two of you, the rest except Agustín followed behind her.

"Grow faster, faster"

They sang in a chorus. You watched in awe as the Madrigals surround you both.

"Ooh, ooh"

"Can you feel my love heat?"

Isabela smiles at you then quickly looks at Camilo in the eye firmly, it's her saying for him to snap out of it and make a move.

"Ooh, ooh"

"Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love"

Mirabel grinned as she sang, you got distracted by the Madrigals singing that you almost forget about Camilo who's having an existential crisis.

"And tell me how do you feel right after all"

Mirabel continues to keep you distracted, Isabela swiftly hands a banquet of flowers to Camilo. She gives him a smack on the back then points at you, he realizes that this was his chance to impress. He straightens up his back and lets his inner performer take in.

"I'd like for you and I to go romancing. Say the word, your wish is my command"

The moment Camilo sings, you turn your head and look at him with astonishment then he slyly gifts you the banquet of flowers and watches your face grow pink.

"Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy"

They sing and he pretends that he wasn't scared shitless earlier. Camilo gives you a smirk and you turn your head away, shyly.

"What're you doin' tonight"

His melodious voice continues.

"hey, boy?"

"Write my letter. Feel much better. And use my fancy patter on the telephone"

Camilo sang with dramatics as you laugh at his performance. The music turns a bit quieter, he takes out his hand for you and you take it. He leads you towards the piano, you watch him climb and stand on top of the instrument, further escalating the dramatic effect.

"When I'm not with you. Think of you always"

Your eyes glimmered when Camilo looked at you tenderly, you listen to him singing from the bottom of his heart and it made your heart skip a beat.

"I miss those long hot summer nights"

"I miss you"

His voice stands out from the chorus of his family. You were the center of the town's attention yet the only thing you can pay attention to is Camilo. You grip the flowers on your hands tighter.

"When I'm not with you. Think of me always"

"Think of me always"

Camilo places a hand on his chest while he sang, ignoring his nervousness returning. You literally melt by the sight of his eyes on you.

"Love you, Love you"

Your eyes go wide by this. Dios mio, was he confessing to you? Of course, he must be since he's only looking at you! You felt fuzzy as your face felt hotter by each second he keeps serenading you.

"Hey, boy, where do you get it from? Hey, boy, where did you go?"

The rest of the Madrigals sang. Camilo jumps off of the piano the lands smoothly in front of you, his charming smile reached from ear to ear.

"I learned my passion. In the good old-fashioned school of loverboys"

His voice sounded so serene, it feel as though you were dreaming. Suddenly, a guitar solo breaks in. Camilo looks and he was baffled to find his tío Bruno absolutely shredding it, he laughed then set his eyes on you as he twirls you around. The remaining of the Madrigals join the others by the town square. Pepa and Félix were joyous to find their plan working. Julieta watched her husband playing the piano and smiled at her sobrino. Abuela was pleased to find Camilo with you and have the time of his life.

"Dining at the Ritz we'll meet at nine"

Camilo starts as he held your hand and dances with you.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine o'clock-"

"Precisely"

You gasp when his face and yours become inches apart, your heart hammered in your chest at the thought of kissing him.

"I will pay the bill, you taste the wine"

The boy teased you with a smirk when he pulled away as he spun you around.

"Driving back in style in my saloon will do quite nicely"

You were hoping that this was all not a hoax and it was real. Camilo Madrigal is serenading you! You had to be the luckiest considering you caught his attention out of all people.

"Just take me back to yours that will be fine"

Camilo stops to look at you as he sang the verse, sincerely meaning every word.

"Come on and get it"

Félix cheered for his son. Camilo secretly rolled his eyes at his papá then began dancing with you.

"Ooh, love"

"There he goes again"

Dolores added, watching her younger brother enjoying his life with you. She can't believe that she finally waited for this moment.

"He's my good old fashioned loverboy"

Pepa sang along, her rainbows and good mood affecting the entire town as the citizens watched with pure joy.

"Ooh, loverboy"

The Madrigals sang at the same time, the music becoming louder.

"What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy?"

Isabela teased Camilo with the verse and with a flick of her wrist, a few exotic and beautiful flowers surrounded you two as you danced.

"Everything's all right. Just hold on tight. That's because I'm a good old-fashioned..."

He sings to you, and then and there you confirmed that you're absolutely falling for him

"Fashioned, fashioned"

The Madrigals followed, Camilo could no longer feel nervous when you looked at him with the brightest smile and shine in your eyes.

"Loverboy"

Camilo finishes as the music ends. The entire town claps and whistles at the entire performance, he bows at them and waves. While the cheering died down and the citizens went back to whatever they were doing. Camilo approaches you and ran a hand through his curls. His family watched him with anticipation.

"Hey, [Name]..."

"Oh my god, you were so amazing out there Camilo! I was starstruck and-"

You rambled and threw your hands around, praising him for his impromptu performance. Camilo couldn't be more in love with you.

"Thank you, [Name]"

"Oh and I was wondering if you wanna, you know, go out sometime?"

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you asked, his face becomes red as a huge smile appears on his lips. You were asking him out!

"Of course!"

"Great! Well, I guess I'll see you around, loverboy"

You winked at him then walk away. Camilo basically jumped in the air and celebrated what just happened, he couldn't prevent the amount of happiness he felt. Oh! And he made sure to thank his entire family after.

masterlist

#encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fanfiction #encanto fluff #songfic #spotify #camilo madrigal #camilo x reader #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo x you #camilo my beloved #camilo fluff #Spotify #jay's fanfics™️#jay's song fics™️#jay's fluff fics™️

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deleteddewewted · 2 years

Note

Ahhh! First time interacting with an event! Could I get a sweet and sour of going on a date with Mitsuri, while Obanai (who’s jealous of reader, but won’t say anything because he just wants Mitsuri happy) watches from afar? I hope this makes sense- like it’s angst on Obanai’s part but fluffy on Mitsuri’s?

Sweet and Sour: Silent Observer

Mitsuri x Gn! Reader/Obanai

❤️🖤Sweet And Sour Event (May 21 - June 26)(JJK, MHA, KNY Characters Only!)❤️🖤

❤️🖤Sweet And Sour Event Masterlist❤️🖤

W: Mildly suggestive, Jealousy, Angst

If you'd like to support my work (Check my Ko-fi and Throne!)

Mitsuri fidgeted with her shirt and flattened out her thigh-lengthed skirt. You had mentioned how fashionable western clothing was and even brought her some for her to try on. She fell in love with an A-line pink skirt with lime flower patterning. She, later on, found an ombre white to green blouse and added an artificial flower that one of the vendors had gifted her. She was excited to show you, the foreign demon slayer, what her outfit was and she thought of just outright showing it to you but after you had asked her out all of her plans changed. She wanted to show you that she could acclimate to modern and western culture since you had done the same for Japanese culture. It set her heart on fire knowing that you had done it all to impress her and she felt like it was her turn to do so back.

She thought of you a lot since the day you arrived at the Ubuyashiki estate was one that she’d never forget. You were wearing a western military uniform with a torn jacket on top. You were bruised but smiled through it all and even took the time to speak with each Hashira. She felt herself grow warm in the face when you made your way towards her. She felt so exposed at the moment and was tempted to cover her exposed cleavage for the first time ever. She found your looks very appealing and it hurt her to look away to stop herself from overheating.

“Y/n! Y/n! Would you like to spend the evening with me? I recently bought some new western treats from the market and thought you could possibly teach me about them?” Mitsuris’s face was bright red and her heart skipped a beat when she heard you giggle.

“Sure!” That’s what started her adorable cush on you. A simple request to eat with you and now you were going out on a romantic date together. Mitsuri moaned as she thought of the multiple ways the night could end, somewhere of you both promising to meet again in the future and the other was what she envisioned soulmates would do. A night of pure love-making and losing one another’s breath to the heat of your bodies being pressed together as you marked her, claiming her as your own.

Obanai watched as the girl of his dreams sighed once she stepped out of her estate. Her makeup was flawless as ever and her look was just as well put together. She had an upbeat skip to her and her flushed face redder than he’s ever seen before. She looked ethereal as she was but she was being so while dressed as a western girl. He felt his own face heat as he watched her from afar. No one should be allowed to look so beautiful.

He had hoped that one day he would be the one holding her hand and making her giggle but unfortunately, fate was not in his favor. You were the one that got to hold Mitsuris’s hand, you got to make her blush and sigh breathlessly. You were the one Mitsuri was longing for, not him. He watched you kiss her hand and escort her to your car. He could have done that, he could ford all of the western luxuries that you used but he guessed that they would lose their charm because he didn’t know how to use them. Maybe if he was a westerner he would have captured her attention sooner. You both drove off into the town as Obanai stared at the vehicle as it faded into obscurity. He could only imagine the ways you further touch her body. He walked to his own estate, the loneliness of it dawning on him for the first time. He wanted what you got and he wanted what you had. Mitsuri was the only thing on his mind and unfortunately in enveloped in your arms.

#mitsuri x reader #mitsuri kanjori #ask #dd answers #demon slayer #kny #dd speaks #mitsuri x y/n #mitsuri x obanai #mitsuri x you #obanai x reader #iguro obanai #iguro x mitsuri

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“Similar Tastes”

An enemies to lovers classic. You and Harry are too similar for you to ever get along...maybe

Hi hi! This is for @majorharry’s 20k celebration writing !!! Hope you all enjoy, I always love to hear from you :)))

The prompts I used: “How about you get off my dick” and “Sorry, I didn’t know”

This gif bc Harry “oh god that’s TEQUILA” Styles is king

Fluff? Smut? But definitely angst? Idk how to describe it bahaha a little bit of everything

Word Count: 4.0k | Warnings: language (there are actually two slurs in this - they’re bisexual slurs and they’re said by the bad guy so just take that into consideration), mature content (not quite smut but y’know), alcohol consumption, girl kissing girl at one point

Pt. 2 is up!

Saturday night. It was finally time to go out with your group of friends and you couldn’t be happier. Well, you could, but what would make you that happy wasn’t possible. If one of the people in your friend group wasn’t there. That would make you the happiest.

Almost everyone has that one person in your friend group who you can’t stand. Like, at first you don’t really know them and then as you get to know them more you just can’t stand them.

For you that was Harry.

While neither of you would admit why you hated each other, it was obviously about how everyone would always compare the two of you. You had practically identical personalities, and had similar fashion taste. At first, everyone else thought you would end up together because it seemed like you were perfectly matched. But the first time someone said, “Oh, Harry, your jacket looks just like the one Y/N wore last week.” Both of you had seethed in complete dissatisfaction.

Naturally, Harry took his jacket off early in that evening and you never wore yours again. You hated being compared to Harry, being told he had made a similar joke or said the same thing about something made you want to reevaluate your entire value system. Maybe it was because you both had such an individualistic mindset, but neither of you enjoyed being compared to anyone and that’s what made it all the worse when people chose to compare you to each other. It boiled down to both of you wanting to be the best at everything - the most unique, rather - that made you dislike the other so much.

So, tonight at the bar, as your group rattled in from the street, you stuck close to your pals at the front while Harry was chatting with someone near the back of the pack. Your eyes had met briefly when you’d seen each other’s outfits. Harry’s a half unbuttoned Gucci cream dress shirt, that was rolled to his elbows, tucked into high waisted navy trousers finished with cream boots and yours a navy bra top with a faux collar and a deep cut to show your cleavage paired with cream high waisted pleated pants and navy loafers. Not exactly the same, but if you had stood next to one another it would have looked planned. You rolled your eyes at him as he narrowed his towards you. You couldn’t wait to order a few drinks and let loose after a hard week at work.

As you all approached a booth, somehow the group shifted and Harry and you were suddenly side by side as everyone was getting in the booth. Then, you were sitting and Harry was right beside you. He tried to cover his groan of annoyance when he realized he’d have to be sitting next to you, once again regarding your outfit with disdain. Your only response was glaring at him. The friend who you had been talking to, Marie, placed her hand over your ring-clad one, that was now gripping the side of the table out of annoyance. “Play nice,” she said. You relaxed at her touch trying to refocus on the purpose of the night, fun.

Soon, a waitress made it to your table and smiled sweetly at all your bright faces. Harry and you were located to her left, and her eyes reached you last.

“Oh! You two are too cute! I love when couples coordinate their outfits!”

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and you gave a tight-lipped smile as you tried to keep yourself from having a blood vessel pop in your eye right then.

“We’re not” you began, Harry cut you off, “together, love.”

His expression changed as he smirked up at the waitress, trying to make it clear that he was very much single.

“Oh! My apologies...So what can I get everyone?”

As she began to take the orders, you shoved your elbow into Harry’s rib. You did it for two reasons, for him cutting you off when you were talking and for being so on top of you in the booth.

He turned to you, “The fuck was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

As you’re about to go off on him about being rude, Marie taps your hand and you realize it's your turn to order.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off your angry tone, “Tequila on the rocks, please.”

The waitress nods and then turns to smile at Harry, he gives you side eyes of disdain, “What’s your most expensive tequila?”

Her smile grew, “We’ve got Don Julio Real and Gran Patron for top shelf.”

“Don Julio on the rocks, please.” He winked.

She nods, scribbling something on her notepad, “Oh! Would you like Don Julio as well?” she returns to you.

You shook your head, “No. Jose Cuervo works just fine,” and glared at Harry once more.

Of course he would ask for top shelf, you thought. Harry couldn't have gotten through saying the exact same order as you, especially after the waitress had already pointed out the similarity in your clothes.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Being in such close proximity to Harry made you incapable of leaving the bickering alone. Everyone else always ignored when the two of you really got into it, because it honestly wasn’t that interesting. Like an old married couple, though none of them would ever dare say it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?”

You scoffed as he turned in his seat to look at you. “Oh, please, you just couldn’t handle ordering the same thing as me. You had to flex that you could order Don Julio!”

“You’re just upset because you can’t.”

“Come off it! I could, but I don’t feel the need to boost my ego by showing off to the waitress that I can afford the expensive stuff.” You laughed at his attempt at snubbing you about what you can and can’t afford.

His eyes darkened and flashed at you and you could see it even in the dim lighting off the bar. “I wasn’t trying to show off, it’s not my fault you don’t care to drink the good stuff.”

“Okay, Harry,” you say sarcastically, waving him off.

He huffed, annoyed that you were the only person he was sitting next to. He had to call across the table if he wanted to speak to anyone that wouldn’t involve you being completely in the way. As he was about to call out to Mitch who was directly across from him, the waitress returned with everyone’s drinks.

“Jose Cuervo on the rocks! And Don Julio on the rocks!” She beamed at the group after finishing handing them out.

Everyone thanked her and she disappeared. You and Harry simultaneously took sips of your drinks.

You wrinkled your nose, “This isn’t Jose Cuervo…”

Harry placed his drink on his coaster and swallowed, licking his lips he said, “I think mine is, tastes cheap.”

“You’re really an ass,” you say as you shove your misgiven drink to him and snatch his from the table instead.

Harry growing tired of your arguing already, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and took a larger sip of the correct drink.

You take a sip of your own drink and sigh again, “This isn’t even tequila, what the fuck?”

“Ah, no wonder it tasted like shit. What do you think it is?”

“Well, considering there’s only, like, a handful of clear hard liquors besides silver tequila, probably vodka, idiot,” you breathed the last word under your breath, still Harry stared at you with daggers in his eyes. You weren’t actually sure how many other liquors it could be, but you were so pissed off by the whole situation you just wanted to make him shut up.

“Well that’s a bummer, kid. Maybe next time, order a better tequila and she’ll get it right.”

You shoved him, not wanting to wait for the waitress to come back to fix her mistake, “How about you get off my dick and then I can go get something worth drinking?”

Harry huffed as he slowly moved his body up from his seat, yet he stayed so close to the opening of the booth you were practically chest to chest when you slipped out. Due to that, and maybe a little bit on purpose, you knocked your drink forward to get a small amount on him. Not enough for him to be drenched, but enough to bug him for the rest of the night.

“Oops?” you tilted your head and held a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you looked at his taken aback look. His prominent jaw had dropped as the cold liquid had pooled over his left breast pocket, some of his tattoos now much more visible. You quickly turned on your heel and bounced off to the bar. Harry grumbled and sat back down, Marie leaned over with a napkin, trying to dry him off a bit.

With a fresh drink in hand you weaved back to the table, all your friends were laughing together at something Harry had seemingly said. When you arrived everyone beamed up at you, far more jovial after a few sips of their drinks. Only Harry’s face was sour, but you chose to ignore it and smile at your friends, waiting for Harry to get up to let you into your seat that he had occupied in your absence. When he didn’t, your face began to fall from its smile.

“Are you going to get up?”

“No, just take that seat,” he waves his hand beside him, trying to go back to the conversation he was engaging in before you had arrived.

“But, you’re in my seat,” you pushed.

“You’re the one who decided to get up and leave it.”

“You cannot be serious, Harry.”

“As a heart attack,” he said flatly, and then turned his head to Sarah who was next to Marie.

You looked around the table for help, Mitch gave a slight sad smile like he felt bad, but everyone knew there was no changing Harry’s mind. You knew you didn’t have the strength to yank his large, muscled body out of the booth, so you resigned and took his old seat. There, you kicked Harry’s leg harshly and took a long sip of your alcohol, just wanting to get drunk enough to want to dance and then not be near Harry.

After a second round of drinks, this time the waitress getting your order right, you were feeling better. Harry and you were largely ignoring each other and laughing along with the rest of your friends to some story. Every so often his leg would open up and bump into yours and you’d hit back at it harder, his eyes sliding to your face for a moment and then looking away. He made you so hot with anger and the closeness of bodies in that bar already had the temperature way too high. You gulped at your drink, trying to cool down, but it only had the opposite effect, the alcohol mixing with your blood, heating up your insides, as well.

Then, once the third round of drinks were served, Marie suggested it was time to dance, commenting that some random song that was currently playing was ‘her favorite’. It wasn’t, but whenever she got drunk, every song was ‘her favorite’. However, you were all happy to oblige, feeling restless as the alcohol was buzzing in your systems.

Out on the dance floor, some of the couples in your friend group paired off to dance on each other while the rest of you spread out. You spotted a woman in the crowd wearing a sequin dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, her blonde hair reminding you of some rocker chick in the 70’s. While making your way towards her, Harry tried to get in front of you, obviously making his way to her as well.

Another thing Harry and you had in common, the people you typically went for - men and women. Shaking him off with a hand on his chest and a glare, you reached her first and she smiled at you as you complimented her outfit and began to dance with her. Harry resigned to staying with some of your other friend’s when he saw how the woman threw her head back at something you said to her. Soon, she was grinding herself against your front, your lips attached to her neck, hands on her hips.

Feeling particularly happy with yourself, your gaze flitted around the crowded dance floor. Eyes scanning those around you, you soon made eye contact with Harry, who actually wasn’t that far off. His eyes looked a more dull green in the light and he rolled them when he saw you looking up from your place against the beautiful woman. While he still looked on at your languid figures pressed together, you teased your tongue up her neck a bit, causing the woman to keen into your touch. As Harry was about to look away, shaking his head at your antics, he caught sight of a guy approaching you and the other woman.

He said something to the pair of you, but you couldn’t hear him. The woman had opened her eyes to look at the guy and you had removed your lips from her, shaking your head that you didn’t catch what he said.

He repeated himself, yelling this time, “Fauxbians out here trying to catch a real man! How ‘bout we make you total lugs!”

He was loud enough for your friends to hear, including Harry who had been watching the whole scene play out. He pushed through the crowd to get to your side, he might not like you, but he couldn’t stand someone who was homophobic, or biphobic, in this case. You pushed the woman off of you and to the side, she was clearly upset and you weren’t going to let what the guy said slide.

“What the fuck, man? You think it’s okay to say shit like that to people? What year are you living in, like for real?”

As you were about to start really ripping into him, you felt Harry’s presence beside you. You looked over and he looked angry, like really angry, not annoyed or exasperated as he usually did with you. Angry like he was about to grab this guy by the shirt and start pummeling him. Even with all the alcohol in your system, you knew that wouldn’t actually help the situation, even if you did want someone to wipe the smug look off this guy’s face, which had only grown worse since you’d started yelling at him. It was like this stranger was getting off on making these two women in front of him uncomfortable and upset.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry spat at the guy.

“Harry,” you turned your body towards him and put your hand on his chest, placing yourself between him and the rude guy, “I’m not letting you get into a fight over what he said. It’s not worth it.”

He had pushed himself almost against this guy, Harry easily hovering over him. Harry looked down at you and then back to the guy, who was chuckling to himself, stepping back from the scene.

He seethed, “You disgust me,” he looked at the man. “Just crawl back into whatever hole your sorry ass came out of.”

The guy just laughed and walked off. Harry looked down at you, his eyes softening instantly. You couldn’t exactly distinguish the look he gave you, you just knew it was something you’d never seen directed at you.

Your brow remained furrowed as you looked at him, then he said, “Let’s get some air.”

You looked around the room for your sequined dress woman, but she was nowhere to be found. So you let Harry take you by the hand out the side exit, to the bar’s alleyway.

Outside, you immediately brought your hands to rub over your exposed arms, the tiny sleeves of your shirt not being enough to brave the brisk night air. The altercation had shaken you up quite a bit and immediately sobered you. Harry stepped closer to you out of instinct, seeing you were shivering, but having nothing to offer warmth except himself. The two of you leaned against the bar’s outer wall and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, voice slightly hoarse from yelling in the loud bar.

“Fine. You?”

Why was he being so nice, you were surprised he had stepped in at all, but now he was checking in on you past that, it was confusing.

“Of course. You didn’t even let me get a single swing in.”

You scrunched your face at his comment regarding violence. “Why did you even come over? I can handle myself,” you asked, suddenly feeling the normalcy of bickering settle between the two of you.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His pectoral muscles slightly shifted and pushed around his cross pendant in the center of his chest.

“Because he was a dick,” he started, then sighed, “And because I can’t just let some homophobe say a bunch of slurs to my friend.”

Your eyes grew wide and shown in the street lamp, as they looked up into Harry’s green ones. He was slightly sweaty from the bar, but it was quickly drying and leaving a slight sparkle on his skin. His jaw was tensed, as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You remained silent, unaware how to respond to his statement that he did, despite much evidence saying otherwise, care about you.

Harry decided to continue, “You might piss me off, like all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random asshole to say that kind of shit to you.”

“I’m your friend?” you circled back to what he had said earlier. Your voice was small and also hoarse from yelling in the bar.

“Of course, Y/N, what the fuck?”

“I thought...I guess I never saw it that way.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know competing all the time and being annoyed with each other was friendship.” You shifted closer to Harry, your words dripping in sarcasm. Even now, as the two of you checked in on each other and talked about your friendship, you managed to fight.

“That’s just because you’re constantly infuriating me and getting us into fights,” Harry smirked, tapping a finger on your cold nose.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, there, Har,” you winked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugged and pressed closer to you.

Neither of you were very clear on what your bodies were doing, slowly moving so that you had your back against the wall and Harry’s hips were pressed up against yours.

“It’s not my fault you’re always jealous of me,” you breathe, his face inches from yours.

Harry snorted a laugh out of his nose, his eyes slowly blinking and looking away from you, before staring directly at you. “Oh, please, now who has it backwards?” His right arm went up beside your head and his hand rested on the cold stone next to you. His breath, from his laughter and words, fanning over your face, made you close your eyes at the warmth.

You moved both of your hands up to his chest, and he looked down at the movement. One moved up to grip his shoulder and the other fiddled with the cross that had caught your attention when he had folded his arms.

After a beat, Harry said your name, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted up, looking up at him questioningly. You didn’t really understand the position the two of you had shifted yourselves into. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Kind of…” He ran a finger over your cheekbone.

Your eyes danced with mischief “Why?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked in slight disbelief.

“As a heart attack,” you said gravely, throwing the words he had used earlier back at him. He sighed a slight laugh.

“Like I said, infuriating…”

Just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and connected your lips with his. Your hand cupped his strong jaw and brought him closer to you. His warm, wet lips pushed against yours with vigor. There was passion in the kiss. A constant push and pull for who got to be in control. You sucked on his lower lip, trying to get him to open up his mouth, but he declined.

He pressed you further onto the wall, while cradling your head to keep it from knocking against the concrete. His teeth nipped at your lip after a few more moments of fervent open mouth kisses without tongue. You resigned to not getting your way and let his tongue lick into you. Your tongue pressed against his as the two of you continued kissing. While his mouth was harsh, the rest of his touch was mostly soft. The hand that didn’t cradle your head was rubbing up and down your side, only venturing down to your bottom occasionally and squeezing quickly.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping slightly for air. He then rested his forehead against yours and you looked at him from beneath your lashes. One of your hands was now twisted in his curls, while the other was gripping his shirt, over the dried vodka spill from earlier. You smiled as you exhaled a big breath. Harry chuckled giddily.

“That was hot,” you said.

“Y’know, having similar tastes...might not be such a bad thing after all.”

“Knowing us we probably like all the same things…” you trailed off, blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t we find out sometime,” Harry winked before brushing his lips against yours once more.

Pecks weren’t possible for either of you though, both of you furiously pressing back together, hungry for more of the heat that came from you kissing.

“That’d be nice,” you whimpered against his lips.

“I think it’d be more than nice…” Harry brought his head down to suck on a part of your exposed cleavage, one of his legs pressed between yours, pushing slightly up into your heat. A strangled moan left your lips as you tried to stifle it. Harry chuckled, his face moved up to right beside your ear, “You’d probably love to have me take you right here, huh?”

His leg pressed up into you and your body automatically grinded down on the pressure. The alcohol and sexual grinding from earlier had gotten you horny and the making out with Harry had definitely heightened your desire.

“But we both know you can’t,” you gained your strength and pressed a little on his shoulders.

As much as you desired Harry right now and he seemed to desire you, as well, he was right. You two were extremely similar and would never actually have sex in a bar alleyway, as much as you might want to in the moment. You both laughed, releasing the sexual tension that was surrounding you.

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend we could...How about we go to my place and see what other fantasies we share?” Harry twisted a strand of your hair in his large hand.

“For once, I’m happy to be on the same page as you, Harry,” you grinned. He picked you up and spun you around, making you shriek in laughter, before heading back into the bar to gather your stuff.

You were quick to scurry out of the bar after telling your friends you were both leaving, tired from everything that had happened. Everyone simply nodded, but the minute you were far enough away they all snickered about the lipstick smeared on the corners of Harry’s lips and your terribly mused hair. Mitch even placed a twenty in the palm of Sarah’s open hand, shaking his head in defeat.

Tag list: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrxier @harrys-cherrry @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #majorharry20k #please enjoy #and give feedback #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry rec #fic rec

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curmudggeon · 3 years

Text

An Unexpected Encounter (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

After receiving an invitation to the mayor's Gala party, you encounter the one person you despise the most, Arthur. Just when you thought your rivalry would get any more infuriating, he comes along and one thing leads into another or maybe even into something more...

“Fuck it.”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Minor spoilers of 'The Gilded Cage' Mission, Vulgarities, Alcohol, Guns, Violence, and Sexual intentions

A/N: Honestly, I didn't know where I was going with this. It's been quite a while since I've written. While playing through this mission, I was thinking of an enemies-to-lovers type of banter with the whole glitz and glamour of the situation. I hope you enjoy it or maybe not...

The grand music by the string quartet swelled into the elegant ambiance of the evening. With Saint Denis’ high society gathered together into one establishment, being invited into these types of conventions was a rare opportunity. You managed to get in the mayor’s party through close connections within the city. It was a chance to get your hands on valued pickpockets from pompous rich people; away from the hassle of collecting useless bounties.

The mansion was rather extravagant as you entered; unique architecture and expensive pieces of artwork looking out into the outskirts of the city. The scent of liquor, cigars, and the deep aquatic plants of the Bayou was intoxicating.

Defying all the odds of 1899 fashion, you wore a dress that had a slit on the slide of your right thigh that was high enough to hide the spare gun that you managed to sneak in despite having to surrender the rest of your weaponry at the entrance.

The mayor’s servants eyed you closely when you laid out your revolvers in front of them, since it was apparently absurd to witness a woman carrying such hefty guns. Winking at them as you moved away, you scowled under your breath at their suspicion and avoid being further searched. It was your only option of protection in case a fiasco had broken out in the middle of your pickpocket adventure.

Conversations started to tune out the music in the background, the heads of married men turned towards your direction as you made your way through the party, striding with utter grace and elegance to catch the eyes of your potential suitors to steal from.

Grimaced expressions were coated on the faces of the women while examining your revealing choice of clothing. You stood beside the refreshments, holding a free glass of champagne, as you glanced at the group of women engrossed in conversation regarding the lady that came into the establishment. You.

Raising your eyebrow as you sipped on the champagne, you gave them a firm nod headed their way, causing the litter of southern belles to widen their eyes at your acknowledgment and quickly disperse from their conversation. Real smooth.

It was the kind of attention you had gotten used to. After all, being the only woman bounty hunter in the city wasn’t normal in the present day’s context. Opting for a more reckless and freer lifestyle gave you a sense of adrenaline; to escape every expectation of conservative American society. You felt entitled to be who you are and wanted to be. A free woman. You started making a name for yourself in this city, bounty after bounty until one particular man decided to show up and defeated all your means of survival on the jobs you took on...

Arthur

The sound of his name left a sour taste in your mouth. He was the reason why it started to get progressively difficult collecting bounties. When you showed up for a $100 bounty for the leader of the Lemoyne Raiders, Lindsey Wofford at the abandoned fort, that is how you met Arthur. You were outnumbered. Deciding to team up with him, was the last thing you should’ve done. He was charming at first, but then came the point when he handed over Lindsey’s body to the police, betraying your efforts to help attain the bounty as he kept the prize to himself. So much for being handsome.

The moment bounty posters were displayed, it became a competition to get to them first. He would capture or kill them before you did. The feeling of immense frustration struck you as he flashed that lazy, crooked smirk of his. Arthur tipped his hat to you while collecting his reward for the day.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath, unable to contain the urge to lunge at him for beating you to it. The glimmer in his eye resembled the commencing of his mockery towards you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Princess.” His eyes shined with amusement along with that stupid grin of his slowly widening at your reaction. Oh, he is so not going to see the light of day any time soon.

Your anger was at its peak, ready to set off and wipe that smug expression off his face. You couldn’t let him have this, not this time. Within a blink of an eye, you reached for your pistol and aimed it at Arthur’s head with ease.

“You take that back.” His face slowly turned south as his grin disappears upon my demand. I thought so, too.

“Woah, Woah, young lady. Put the gun down,” The policeman warned as he stood with his hand out to coax you into dropping my line of fire and from blowing Arthur’s brains out in front of him.

Ignoring the warning, you focused on Arthur, waiting for his apology. After a long pause of silence, his face slowly distorts, as if he can’t control the outburst of emotions flowing within him.

He’s

He’s laughing?

Your eyebrows furrowed even further as he slowly bends his arms onto his knees as blurts of laughter simultaneously start to escape his mouth. The policeman was surprised at the sudden change of atmosphere, as he stares at Arthur like a madman. He walks away, shaking his head as he retorts lowly, “I don’t get paid enough for this job”.

Rolling your eyes, you were annoyed at the fact Arthur doesn’t take you seriously. Even as your rival, it was unbelievably childish of him to do so. He continued to wheeze as if I’m the biggest joke in the whole wide world. “Ha ha. Very funny, Arthur”

A small smile crept up your mouth as you lowered your aim of fire and place it back into the holster at the round of your hip. You had to admit, he had one of the most contagious laughs you have ever heard, but that doesn’t mean you should lose your guard against the one person you despise the most. In defeat, you left the police station before he had anything else to say to mask yourself in humiliation.

“This changes nothing, I’m still going to beat you.”

A few glasses of champagne and pickpockets later, you managed to get your hands on some gold rings, silver-plated watches, and money off drunkards that made their way to you. They were easily wrapped around your finger to steal behind their back. The men surrounded the area as they unwind into the evening with very little knowledge, of what’s coming to them. You secretly stashed the contents of your pickpockets into your purse while walking away from endless conversations about politics and the weather.

Getting bored by the events occurring before you, in the corner of your eye you spot the mayor; Henri Lemieux by the fountain.

Hoping to make a name for yourself in this city —and probably pickpocket him, you make your way to his location. With elongated and purposeful sashays, you stopped in your tracks when you heard footsteps following behind you.

“Hey, little troublemaker.” His voice resonated through you.

Within a split second, you knew that warm, gruff voice anywhere. Frozen in your tracks, you closed your eyes and mentally cursed to yourself as you just got caught red-handed.

In front of you was your shadow cascading on the brick flooring of the garden as Arthur’s tall and burly figure enveloped yours under the dim moonlight. He was directly behind your back, just barely touching the exposed skin of your shoulders. You could feel the warm heat radiating off of him, making you shudder.

Slowly turning around to acknowledge his presence, composing yourself with utmost annoyance to resist the intoxicating proximity in between.

"Oh, it's you." He chuckled at your sarcastic remark as you admired his ravishing appearance. He donned a well-fitted Tux that hugged his biceps perfectly, along with the slicked-back hair from the usage of pomade to style it.

The view of him was a refreshing sight. Seeing him in such a way, despite the usual boyishly rugged blue shirt of his, that shaped his figure well tingled on your skin. He smelled of musk and wildflowers. The scent caused an involuntary sigh out of you before you could realize what you had just done.

"It's nice to see you." Slightly grinning, he stared at you closely. Holding eye contact as he took in the sight of your appearance. Before you stared at each other longer than the both of you had anticipated, fireworks had burst in swirls up in the sky. It caught the attention of guests as they watch the beautiful night sky be painted with streaks of vibrant colors. Comments of amazement filled the air.

Shifting your gaze back to Arthur, you felt like your heart had stopped for a mere second. What?

Arthur had already been staring at you, and your face started to slightly warm at the realization. As if on cue, at the side of the fountain was the mayor and his servant, quietly arguing. You eavesdrop only to hear the contents of the discussion 'Cornwall' and 'horse's ass'. Bingo. You knew anything that had to do with the wealthy man was a big deal to make out of. And definitely would come with something worthy to steal.

As the servant departs away from the mayor, Arthur was already making his way towards him to find out more information. Oh no, you don't.

You follow behind discreetly with the same intention before he finds something more useful than the already invaluable pickpockets in your purse.

Making way back through to the entrance of the Mansion, Arthur makes his way upstairs to the staircase leading towards the mayor's office, as you follow shortly after.

He enters the office quietly as he jams to open the locked drawer with a letter opener on the table. Slowly, you make your way to lean against the door frame, crossing your right leg over the left one to increase the view that revealed your exposed skin with a revolver strapped to your thigh. Preparing to display your disapproval of his actions, you fold your arms as he voices out the contents of the letter. "Mr. Leviticus Cornwall... Top secret… Extremely confidential. Very interesting."

"Very interesting, huh?" His head quickly turns in my direction upon the sound of my voice. His eyes widen. Gotcha cowboy.

Smiling innocently at his reaction, you slowly tilt your head the opposite way of the door frame, awaiting his response.

He pauses for a while as his gaze reaches your face as it makes its way through the revealed skin and revolver coyly making an appearance to him. Breaking off his stupor, It takes him a few seconds to process your actions as you walk towards him.

“What’s that?” He turns his back to prevent you from have a closer scan of the confidential document. Trying to reach it from out of his hands, he turns in another direction, holding the document up in the air far from your reach.

“Nothing useful,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone as he remains amused at your multiple attempts of stealing it from him. He looks away from you, dodging any suspicious allegations you might get just by narrowing your eyes at him.

“If you’re trying to hide it from me, sure as damn means it’s useful.” You hiss at him to hand it over as you continue trying to get up to his height to retrieve the ‘useless’ document out of his hands. Giving up, you stop your actions as an idea had come to mind. A stupid one.

Removing the revolver off your thigh, you pointed the gun at his foot to threaten him into giving you a glimpse of the contents of the paper regarding Leviticus Cornwall.

“I’d love to see you try,” His deep blue eyes sparkled as he challenged you with delight. Arthur knew you wouldn’t dare to pull the trigger and risk another catastrophe to happen at the mayors’ mansion.

Fireworks outside the window started to quieten down and conversations start to resume back to normal.

The sound of a key unlocking a door from another part of the office fills the room.

You look at Arthur with a slightly panicked facial expression. He folds the document neatly and places it inside the inner breast pocket of his tux as you quickly strap back your gun to the side of your thigh.

Arthur moves swiftly past you and grabbing you by the wrist before both of you get caught.

We make our way through the hallway and down a few steps down the staircase to get as far away from the office as possible. The soft tones of speaking at the end of the stairs traveled just at the rounded corner of the wall, nearing the both of you. Heavy stomps became louder and louder at the top of the staircase. You and Arthur were dead in your tracks, standing in the middle of the staircase, as your only two options of escape were far from reach. It was a dead end. This was a day you would go to jail, the both of you.

“Fuck it.”

And he kisses you. Hungrily and ever so desperately.

Pushing you against the wall as his hand cups the back of your neck bringing you close to him while the other was lowering to grab the exposed leg through the slit of your dress and cling it to the side of his hip. Your heart was beating out of your chest, ringing into your ears. And you were pretty sure he was able to hear it too. Not being able to grasp the situation, your stunned eyes fluttered shut, forgetting the entirety of your surroundings with his lips crashing on yours. Arthur’s lips.

There was no denying your attraction towards Arthur, from his physique to that annoying smirk of his that kept you on edge, it was hard to pay attention to the rivalry the both of you shared. Sometimes neither of you noticed the longing but yet despising looks you and Arthur exchanged. You thought you were being delusional, but It always seemed to be so much more. An indescribable magnetic force, pulling and pushing away from each other.

His stubble along the sides of his jaw skimmed the surface of your chin, inviting a light hum to alight from your lips from the contact. It made him smile against your lips, enjoying your compliance with his actions. Unable to resist, you grabbed the ends of his suit into fists, bringing him closer as his hands explored the map of your skin. Just like a predator devouring its prey, you lightly moaned as the warmth of his skin against yours created an inexplicable connection. A grunt escaped his mouth at your reaction to his touch. Kissing you harder, his hand gently slid up the exposed skin of your leg and over your—

"Ahem,"

Breaking off your kiss, a look of disgust was plastered onto the face of the servant, stumbling upon a couple who can't seem to get a room.

Regaining consciousness, you realize the highly scandalous position the both of you were in. You against the wall, arching your back with your hands resting on his heaving chest. You look down, noticing the strap of your dress that had tipped of your shoulder, which revealed your cleavage a bit more than it had already displayed. And his hands, at your waist and up your thigh reaching, Oh. Your face turned bloodshot red.

In a protective stance, Arthur leans forward closer to shield the tantalizing sight of your appearance to the man who had caught both of you at the top of the stairs. Furrowed eyebrows and eyes of infuriation were headed his way.

"Oh, heavens" a group of maids that reached the staircase, quickly shuffled away to busy themselves with other things than going through the second floor of the mansion.

“Pardon me for the intrusion, but this area is strictly out of bounds.”

“Well, I don't see any signs suggesting, so”

The servant raises his eyebrow higher with arms crossed, emphasizing how ridiculous his comment was.

Arthur grumbles, “We’ll be on our way”

The man’s heavy footsteps move past us, giving you privacy to freshen up whatever articles of clothing that was out of place

Hesitant to make eye contact, you observed the bow tie that hung around Arthur’s neck like it was the most interesting thing you had ever seen. You could feel his intense gaze drilling holes into you as his eyes did all the talking. The air was thick, making it hard to breathe as each second passes by. There wasn’t an inch of space left between the both of you, except for the slight distance aching to be met at the lips. His fingers lifted your chin to divert your attention back to him.

You could see the reflection of yourself drowning in the deep seas of his cerulean blue eyes. His gaze lowers down to the swell of your lips. Momentarily, time stops moving, it was the climax of something different. Something exciting, that the hatred you had spent building up for him was collapsing. Something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

There’s a gravitational pull pulling us closer and closer…

The basis of physics was no match for the two of you.

Lips barely grazing onto yours as light music soars in the background,

“Arthur!”

He stops, painfully closing his eyes to the familiar voice that constantly put him to work.

The tension breaks like a gunshot piercing through the air, pulling you out of your daze and back into reality.

What the fuck just happened?

Arthur groans and smothers his face into the crevice of your neck. His arms tightening around your waist, holding for dear life like you were going to slip away from his fingers. Gibberish left his mouth, whining like a child being awoken from his slumber, as the voice that yelled for him gets louder.

You couldn't handle the position you were in, he was so close to you. Your heart could burst any time soon from his touch. It was nothing you had ever imagined with him, nothing you had ever experienced before. This feeling was new.

“I have to go” her murmurs barely under a whisper, only for you to hear. Arthur lightly kisses the skin of your shoulder to signal his departure. The sensation tingles as he separates away from you.

The initial distance that was so close between the both of you was now a little too far away for your liking. Leaving you at the staircase, he looks back at you.

Our eyes meet, and it’s only the two of us, and from this point onwards, everything changes, and you find yourself longing after his lips.

Maybe for once, things could change.

Maybe we can change.

Us.

part 2-?

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themaribatpit · 3 years

Text

Fiasco At The Wayne Gala

Author’s note: This story was written by DC Fanboy and proofread by Maribat fangirl, as a reaction to Style Queen. Maribat fangirl has been hard at work on Chapter 6 of “Hanging by a Thread”, while DC fanboy needed a break from the angst. This is the result, enjoy.

Content warning: A dash of Chloe salt, mostly Audrey managing to piss off everyone. Ships: Jason Todd / Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson / Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain / Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake / Bernard Dowd (mentioned), Bruce Wayne / Selina Kyle.

Fiasco at the Wayne Gala

Jason stood at the driveway to Wayne Manor, bored out of his mind as he waited for Marinette to arrive. Another Wayne Gala was underway, with Gotham’s elite pouring into Wayne Manor. Marinette said she would be arriving with her roommate, Zoe. He took out his phone and messaged his girlfriend asking where she was. He was interrupted from his thoughts when a rude woman cleared her throat in front of him. Jason was just able to look up from his phone before he was berated for not paying attention to her.

“You! Valet! How dare you play on your phone when you should be attending to us guests?” the woman screeched. Jason cringed and immediately placed his phone back into his pocket, just as he was about to argue with this banshee that he wasn’t a valet, he was rudely interrupted again with another screech. “How unprofessional! Notify Bruce Wayne that I, Audrey Bourgeois have arrived,” she waved her hand as if to shoo him away. “Now go and park the car before I fire you.” She tossed her keys to Jason, before promptly walking away with her chin held snobbishly high.

Jason looked down at the keys in his hands. He looked at the woman walking away and then towards her car, a jet black convertible. He walked around the vehicle, admiring the exquisite European sports car. A mischievous grin grew on his face as he looked back at the keys in his hand, he jumped in over the door into the car and started its engine. It roared to life, Jason couldn’t resist stamping both his feet on the accelerator and brakes at the same time. The tyres screeched from the friction, spewing smoke behind him. He then spun around, performing a doughnut around the driveway. He left behind a trail of black tyre markings on the asphalt below. Jason stomped his foot onto the accelerator, all the way to the bottom. The engine roared in response with an immediate burst of power, rocketing him out of Wayne Manor, speeding off into the distance.

Meanwhile, Dick waited for the cloakroom attendant to return. In his hands he held Barbara’s coat. Him being the gentleman that he was, he volunteered to bring it to the cloakroom for her. As he patiently waited at the counter, he heard a throat being cleared behind him. He chose to ignore it but then the voice grew louder. He elected to ignore it again, but the person behind him then shouted “You!”

Dick turned in surprise, he looked around to the source of the voice, a woman wearing a black, white and gold ball gown with a white fur coat in her arms. Beside her was, what he assumed to be, her daughter. She wore a matching dress and an entitled look on her face. He looked around, thinking and hoping she was trying to talk to someone else.

The woman then threw her coat at Dick, it draped over his head completely. He looked as if he was wearing an expensive ghost costume, as the coat hung over his head. The rude woman continued, “Now put this in the cloakroom, bring me the ticket when you are done and make sure nothing happens to it.” Dick didn’t say anything at that moment, he hadn’t fully registered what had just happened. “It is an expensive Arctic Fox coat, if anything were to happen to it I will make sure Mr. Wayne fires you.” She stomped off with her daughter in tow, the two walked past Barbara with Haley napping on her lap. The two scoff in disgust at the sight of the dog, “Disgusting, don't you think?” Audrey asked her daughter.

Chloe repeated the sentiment, “Absolutely, Mother.”

Audrey nodded towards her daughter in approval before turning back to face Barbara, “Now get that mangy, misshapen mutt out of here before we file a complaint and get that thing put down!” she threatened before walking away.

Haley whimpered from the scary lady’s yelling, Barbara’s eyes narrowed as her hands moved to cover Haley’s floppy ears, “Oh no you did not just threaten Haley.”

“Where did she go? I can’t see.” Dick asked, the coat still covering his head.

Tim stood near the food table, enjoying canapés and several other hors d'oeuvre while waiting for his date, Bernard, to arrive at the gala. A loud voice caught his attention mid bite, “Is that you Timothy? Oh it is you.” He looked up from his plate to see an obnoxious woman wearing sunglasses indoors, at night.

“Do you remember me? I’m your Aunt Audrey.” the woman spoke.

Tim cringed internally, remembering the woman from past events. A horrible woman if he remembered correctly, always sucking up to his parents, pretending to be their friend. Most of all he remembered the constant attempts at matchmaking, doing whatever she could to pawn her daughter off to the Drake family to gain their favour. He quickly swallowed the appetizer in his mouth and answered “Hello Aunt Audrey.” with a strained smile. His mind was in a flurry, trying to think of a plan to get rid of her.

“Oh how handsome you’ve grown, why don't you spend time with my daughter? I brought her here today.” she suggested, her voice devoid of any sincerity.

Tim slowly backed off, looking around the room hoping to think of a plan to get her to leave him alone. “Well...you see…” he tried to stall for time. He then spotted a familiar plume of blonde hair standing near the performing band and rushed towards her. “Steph! You gotta help me!” he croaked.

She turned in surprise, “Tim? You okay? What's wrong?”

“Pretend to be my date” he blurted out.

“What?” she cried incredulously, “No, I’m dating Cass. What would Bernard say?” she responded angrily.

“Please, I’m begging you. At least until this crazy woman leaves me alone,” Tim explained, “she’s been trying to hook me up with her daughter for years.” Tim grabbed on to her arms and gave her a shake.

“What is this, some kind of fake dating storyline? Did I wake up in one of your K-Dramas?” She answered in a voice dripping with sarcasm. She then peered over his shoulder to see two women in hot pursuit, shoving guests aside. She was already feeling her mood sour from their presence.

“You owe me for this, understand?” Stephanie said, her fingers jabbed Tim in the chest before she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Thanks, I’ll pay you back some day.” Tim then held out his elbow for Stephanie, which she held on to.

Tim and Steph slowly walked up to Audrey, “Aunt Audrey, I’d like to meet my girlfriend Stephanie Brown.” He gestures towards his friend. Stephanie then kissed Tim in the cheek, trying her absolute best to not show just how irritated she was at the whole situation.

Audrey’s eyes twitched at the sight, but it was unnoticeable under her sunglasses. “Nice to meet you too Stephanie.” she greeted, venom dripping from her voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I will attend to other guests. It was nice meeting you again Timothy.” She then stomped away with Chloe in tow.

The two then breathed a sigh of relief as they were left alone, “I need a drink” groaned Stephanie, as she held onto her forehead. “I just hope that Cass didn't see....that.” She turned around to see Cassandra Cain right behind the two, a frown on her face.

Both Tim and Steph both held up their hands, attempting to placate the girl in front of them. “Tim needed a fake date to get rid of a crazy old hag.” explained Steph, as quickly and concisely as she could. Stephanie gave Tim the evil eye, thinking of all the ways she would hurt him if his fiasco cost her her relationship with Cass.

Cass spun her finger on the side of her head. Tim and Steph released a breath they both had been holding, worried of what Cass’ reaction would be. Fortunately for them, Cass was able to see the whole thing. From watching Tim’s desperate plea, to the subtle signs of discomfort as the two spoke to Ms. Bourgeois.

Damian clung to the edges of the party, he detested these events. However, as the son of Gotham’s Billionaire he had no choice but to attend. He wandered around, hands in his pockets, he hoped he could find a familiar face in a sea of strangers. Perhaps Gordon or Grayson would let him pet Haley, it would at least help pass the time better.

For someone unaware of who he was, one could possibly mistake him for a delinquent. Then again, he was the grandson of the Demon. He spotted the dog on Gordon's lap, and made his way towards her. He was then intercepted by a raging woman pointing her finger at him and calling him a trespasser and an intruder.

The gall of this woman, he clenched his teeth and yelled back. "Shut up you hag, I live here!"

The woman expressed a loud gasp, "How dare you call me that? Do you know who I am? I am Audrey Bourgeois, director of Style Queen."

Damian rolled his eyes, "What? A magazine giving fashion advice to shriveled old hags like you?" he shot back.

Audrey Bourgeois snapped, she yelled at the boy at the top of the voice "How dare you!"

Damian shouted back "How dare YOU! Do you know who I am?"

Their shouting match had drawn the entire attention of the ball room, eyes drawn to the argument unraveling before them. Tim and Dick walked closer, hoping to get a clear view of what was happening, and to intervene if necessary. Who knows what would happen with Damian around?

Alfred ignored the chaos unraveling around him as he pushed a food trolley through the ball room. However, a young woman with blonde hair rushed in front of his trolley. "May I help you?" He asked.

"My mother is being harassed by some miscreant, go get rid of him." Chloe growled towards the butler.

"Very well." Alfred complied and began walking to the two shouting their lungs off.

Damian spots the two former Robins approaching and calls out to them, "Grayson, Drake, tell her who I am and get rid of her."

Both Tim and Dick narrowed their eyes, annoyed about how all attention was now on the two of them. The two looked at each other, annoyed at their younger sibling.

Tim had a plan to redirect that attention and knock Hell Spawn down a peg, "Who are you?" he asked.

This infuriated Damian, he roared "Traitor!" and was about to throw fists at Tim before Alfred stepped in between them.

"Please, let us all calm down and enjoy this fine evening." Alfred attempted to calm the entire situation.

"Not until you get rid of him!" Audrey yelled, pointing her finger accusingly at Damian.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Madam." Alfred deadpanned.

Audrey stomped her foot in anger, then she pointed threateningly at Alfred. "You're fired!" she yelled.

Alfred sighs and answers in a monotone voice "Madam, with all due respect, I don't work for you. I work for Master Wayne, and in turn I also work for the young Master Wayne." He gestured to Damian, who stood there angrily with his arms crossed.

Audrey Bourgeois recoiled in shock, she attempted to come up with a retort. Alfred continued, "As per the young master's wishes, please leave the premises immediately."

Audrey gritted her teeth, "Fine. Call the valet to bring my car over." She commanded before marching off.

Alfred and Damian looked at each other, intrigued at the request for a valet. "Pennyworth, we don't have a valet for this evening, do we?" asked Damian.

"No Master Damian, though I suspect we may have a case of grand theft auto on our hands. I shall go check the cameras for our culprit.” Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and left for the Batcave.

Marinette and Zoe stood near a window. Marinette was worried, Jason was supposed to be at the party. He did not answer any of her calls or reply to any of her messages. She paced about, worried Jason was away dealing with an emergency.

Zoe on the other hand was red with embarrassment and shame. She was unfortunately related to the two wrecking balls tearing their way through the gala. She hoped to any and every deity above that they would prevent her mother from noticing her. However, this was to no avail as Zoe was spun around forcefully.

"...Zoe! Why did you not greet your dear mother?" Yelled Audrey.

Zoe began sweating bullets trying to think of an answer while being berated by her mother and half-sister. "I-I uh, I just got here." She shakily attempted to explain herself.

"What are you doing here Marinette?" Growled Chloe, annoyed at how such a clumsy girl would be even invited to this event.

Marinette put the phone back into her purse, "I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend, but I can't find him and he won't answer the phone."

Chloe laughed at the girl's plight, "Who would even date a loser like you? Any sane person would leave you."

Marinette gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, much to Chloe’s delight. Her contained rage and shame were interrupted as Audrey began complaining about a valet.

"Where is my car? Where is that damn stupid valet?" Audrey shouted.

Zoe and Marinette looked at each other, confused at the mention of a valet. "There was a valet?" Marinette asked nervously.

"Of course there was." Audrey told her.

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous," ranted Chloe, "He did not even dress properly and now he can't even deliver mother's car. Where is the idiot with the white streak of hair?"

Marinette and Zoe raised an eyebrow at the specific mention of a white streak of hair.

"At least it explains what Jason is up to." Marinette thought to herself, "They won't be getting the car back for a while, if at all."

Alfred had reviewed footage of the driveway earlier that evening, and had discovered Jason was the culprit. Alfred sighed as he picked up the telephone and attempted to call Jason. Just like Marinette, Jason was not answering his calls. Alfred then contacted Jason through his Bat Communicator.

"What's the emergency, Alfred?" Answered Jason.

Alfred could hear the sound of a roaring engine and wind whipping through the air over the communicator. "Master Todd, you are the emergency. Please return the automobile to the manor.

"Alright, I will if you bake me two dozen cookies. Just for me and no one else." Negotiated Jason.

"Very well, Master Todd." agreed Alfred "Now please return the vehicle." Alfred closed the call and made his way to the ballroom.

Jason turned the steering wheel of the car harshly, sending it to a tight drift, making a turn back towards Wayne Manor. "Alright you two, we're getting cookies!" he yelled to his passengers beside him.

"Yaaaaay" cheered Roy along with Lian on his lap.

Back in the ballroom, Alfred asked the guests to quiet down for he was making an announcement. "Esteemed guests, allow me to introduce Bruce Wayne.'' He stepped aside and gestured to Bruce atop the stairs with Selena Kyle. The two slowly walked down the stairs, and thanked each of their guests for attending the gala.

Audrey Bourgeois pushed past several attendees to get a closer look. Other guests gave her space, not wanting to incur her wrath. As she reached Bruce Wayne, she shoved Selena aside and wrapped herself around Bruce's arm. Taking extra attention to make sure her chest rubbed against his arm.

Zoe sped to the bathroom in absolute shame after watching her mother attempt to flirt with Bruce Wayne. Marinette remained by the window, waiting for Jason’s return. She was then approached by Alfred, holding a small basket of fresh cookies. “Good evening Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I just spoke to Master Todd, he is on his way.”

Marinette glanced at Audrey Bourgeois still attempting to flirt with Bruce, “the sooner he gets here the sooner she leaves.” she comments. She notices the cookies in the basket. “Can I have a cookie?” she asked, salivating at Alfred’s baking. Tikki peeked out from her small bag, enticed by the smell of the cookies.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Master Todd, I made these in order to entice him to return the car. Undamaged, I hope.” Alfred explains.

Fortunately Jason arrived at that moment, with Roy and Lian in tow, their hairs were messy from the wind. Alfred gave Marinette the basket of cookies and asked her to give them to Jason while he notified Ms. Bourgeois that her car had arrived. “Jason, where have you been? I've been trying to call you all night!” Marinette yelled.

Jason scratched the back of his head, “about that, some crazy lady thought I was a valet.”

Marinette crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “I heard. But that doesn't mean you can take her car.” she huffed.

“ ‘Sup Little Wing,” Dick greeted Jason, “heard about your joyride from Alfred. How was it?”

“Awesome,” Jason replied, reaching into the basket of cookies. Roy, Lian and Tikki were already enjoying their share.

“Now that you’re back, that crazy woman can now go.” Dick said

“What did she do?” asked Jason curiously, hoping there would be a good story.

“For starters, she thought I was the cloakroom attendant. She threw her coat over my face, she pissed Babs off by calling Haley a ‘Misshapen Mutt’. Then she tried to hook her daughter up with Tim. On top of that, she managed to royally piss off Damian.” Explained Dick.

Jason’s jaw dropped while chewing his cookie, a few crumbs landing on the floor. Before doing a spit-take with the cookie in his mouth, he burst out laughing.

Meanwhile Alfred walked up to Audrey Bourgeois, who was still clinging onto Bruce Wayne as if her life depended on it. “Ahem, Madam Bourgeois, your automobile has arrived. Please kindly leave the premises.” interrupted Alfred.

“Come now, Brucie Darling. Are you really going to send me away after all we have been through?” Audrey asked coyly.

Bruce took a deep breath, “Ms. Bourgeois, please leave. As you can see my date, Ms. Kyle, has been very patient with you.” He points with his thumb behind him towards a glaring Selena.

Audrey growled loudly, “Fine, we are leaving.” She stomped out the front door. “You, Valet! What took you so long?” she demanded an explanation from Jason.

Jason spoke to her with his mouth full, spewing crumbs everywhere. “Having dinner, what's it to you?”

Audrey and Chloe recoiled at Jason’s bad manners, as a force of habit Audrey yelled back “I’ll have you fired for this.”

Jason continued undeterred, still answering with his mouth full of cookies. “Well shit, too bad.”

Frustrated at his aloof response, the two quickly got into the car and drove off. Everyone but the two Bourgeois noticed a large scratch and several dents along the side of the sports car as it drove away. “Yeah, uh, forget you saw that. Let’s get back to the party shall we?” suggested Jason. Everyone laughed hysterically at the wild night, now that the human wrecking ball had left.

As Marinette walked back into the manor, she pouted at Jason for keeping her waiting. “Come on now Pixie, are you still mad at me?” Jason asked.

“Yes, you stole someone’s car, drove off to who knows where. You didn’t answer any of my messages or calls. I was really looking forward to enjoying the Gala with you.” Marinette complained.

Jason ran in front of Marinette, stopping her in her tracks. “Look I’ll make it up to you Pixie, I promise. How about a dance then? The night is still young.” Jason said, offering his hand to Marinette.

Marinette contemplates for a moment before reaching out to hold his hand. “Fine, but this doesn’t mean I forgive you yet.”

The two then walked to the centre of the ballroom and danced the night away.

#jasonette #maribat chloe salt #maribat #ml x dc #dc x ml

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