#bout time someone asked this *[CACKLING]*

[theamalgaverse]

Hey snatcher I have a question, why did you go after Lewis like attack him (because I remember seeing a post where you nearly killed Lewis). I’m just curious also *hugs*

Sydney: “Oh geez louise, where do I begin with that fancy tale? This was a hell of a while ago, before the ol fancy tree shack got made, and before anybody past Athena ended up here.”

“Alright. It was many… weeks. After I ended up in the Crater… god imagine what would’ve happened if I knew I could go back then-“

“…”

“But, hey. Karma, am I right- HAHAHAHA~! Ahh, I know too better now…”

[izvmimi]

cw: violence and serious injury. fem!reader is a pro hero with a vague quirk, but including the ability to fly. izuku and reader are newly married, reader is referred to as wife. a/n: a rewrite of something posted previously so if parts are familiar that's why.

Hundreds of feet in the air, away from the rubble and carnage of the active surface where a few dozens of civilians hurriedly evacuate, you hover over Tokyo, facing what you realize may be your last ever opponent.

By this time, your vision is starting to blur, and it’s a miracle that you can still focus on the gloating, hulking form in front of you. The humans below you are like ants in a loose file, thankfully making use of the valuable time you’ve allotted them to escape to safety by dragging your opponent into the skies. Something monstrous and yet something human enough to laugh does so in a raucous cackle as it takes in your already slackening body, still floating yet shakily so in the skies. You waver with every strong gust, the loose and torn bits of your Hero costume flapping in the wind; you’ve nearly run out of charge to your jet boots, and it won’t be long until you either take this fight to the ground or gravity overtakes you.

“Is it really worth it?” the villain asks in mockery. You tremble like a leaf, and you can’t think of a part of your body that doesn’t feel shattered. And yet the answer is yes. It always will be yes.

Today is a bad day. The Symbol of Peace, your Deku, is nowhere to be found. Overseas, in fact. Other Heroes have heard your call to action, you’re sure, but no one is coming to your immediate rescue as of now. It’s just you, alone, for the first time since UA, since ever.

You don’t muster up the courage to answer, instead clenching your fists, steeling yourself for one final bout against an enemy you cannot beat. There’s not much more you can do in the way of winning, except buy time for someone stronger than you to eliminate this threat and keep the premises safe. 

Bile rises in your throat and you spit, then grin, widening your eyes fiercely. Perhaps it’s a mockery of some sort that the villain takes particular offense to. That may or may not have been your intention.

“I’ve had enough time wasted toying with you!” it snarls, and charges in your direction. It’s too fast to evade, and the first blow you manage to block is agonizing, weighing heavily on your tensed forearms. You grit your teeth as you feel the limbs strain to nearly breaking. 

You are no stranger to fear nor are you unfamiliar to pain but you feel both right now, more than you’ve ever felt in your entire life - a type of terrifying agony that mixes together and amplifies, sinking deep into your broken bones, one that settles far into your psyche and weighs heavy on your chest. 

Another blow is delivered, then another, until there is a barrage that breaks through your defenses. It occurs to you yet again that you’ll die here as a punch lands on your right cheek and clearly fractures your jaw, along with another right in the solar plexus that knocks the wind and any remaining vitality out of you. 

A noble death, of course; in the line of duty. A Hero’s death. 

A smile spreads on your lips. You are doing the best you can, and something in that should be comforting. The screams from down below are barely audible from the ringing in your ears and time seems to slow.

Things are starting to fade to black and the next few times you are struck barely register, passing the threshold of pain into numbness. Perhaps your Quirk has gone into effect, shutting down your nerves, so that you can no longer feel anything more than the plethora of emotions welling up in your fractured chest.

You’ve failed. You haven’t failed.

Perhaps your family will be proud of you. Your friends. Him, for risking your life as he would, if he were here, even if it meant he would lose it in the process.

You hurtle back to Earth like a meteor. Someone is calling your name. 

Someone is calling your name.

—

Thousands of miles away, Izuku Midoriya picks up his phone to find more missed calls than he’s ever had in his life in the span of three hours. As he leaves his conference, he fumbles with his phone, scrolling faster and faster through every notification. Bakugou, your friends, his mother… but none of them are from you. 

There’s a pit in his stomach as he realizes Bakugou is the only one brave enough to leave a text.

Call me ASAP. ___ is in the hospital.

__

“Your wife has a tendency to bite a little bit more than she can chew, but she’s alive.”

Izuku can hear the not yet uttered ‘for now’ that Bakugou is holding back, and he’s somewhere between grateful and dreadfully angry. There’s an incessant tap in his foot that he can’t help himself enough to stop and he knows he is giving off tiny little sparks of OFA the longer he sits and waits for the gate to open to allow boarding. It’s a good thing there’s nothing nearby that can catch fire, and if it weren’t for the fact that his childhood friend is on the line calming him down the only way he can, he’d have a word to say to the attendant who is staring him down.

“You didn’t catch her,” Izuku says suddenly in a cool voice. 

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, long enough to betray Katsuki’s guilt at being able to make it to the scene to subdue the enemy but not fast enough to intercept your crash towards the earth. That part of the fight was on video clear as day, captured by a civilian who immediately posted it on the internet, displaying your battered body for the world to see. 

Izuku watched it five times in a row, clenching his phone tightly until a long crack formed along the screen and his stomach churned enough to vomit. 

Katsuki mulls the words in his mouth before he replies.

“You’re right, I didn’t.”

Izuku decides to leave it at that. Anger won’t do him much good, and a part of him blames himself. 

There’s another silence on the phone and Izuku can hear his pulse racing in his ears.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou says, and Izuku realizes the situation is truly dire. He doesn’t want the apology, not from someone who rarely does so. He doesn’t say anything in response.

—

“It’ll only be a week,” Izuku says, smiling. You give him a pout, even though you’ve been over this already for the past three weeks.

“A week is a long time, Izuku,” you sigh, but you forgive him anyway, rubbing his back gently and interlacing the fingers of your other hand with his. The airport is busy, but less so than you expect for this time of day, the early afternoon on a weekend. You don’t want him to go, you think, but anyone can get through a week and even if you’ve just recently tied the knot, he doesn’t only belong to you.

“It’ll fly by,” he insists. “I’ll call you every morning, okay?” 

You smile at him, your eyes nearly closing with the action. He smiles back, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss the back.

“Be safe,” you offer him as he moves past the waiting area, where you can no longer follow him.

“I will,” he promises. “You be safe too. I love you.”

—

“You can’t go from the airport straight to the hospital. Sleep first. Breathe. She’s not going anywhere.”

Bakugou’s voice is steady, the very opposite of what Izuku is feeling right now, having just touched down on Japanese soil and already calling right out of the gate.

“Which hospital?” Izuku repeats, completely disregarding his friend’s advice. Even breathing deeply doesn’t seem right somehow, right now - the air smells wrong to him, too salty and too dry, and the migraine that started on the plane 12 hours ago shows no sign of abating. 

Bakugou sighs and answers the question. Izuku is stubborn to a fault, he knows that better than everyone, and he can clearly sympathize with him.

“Just don’t harass the staff when you get there. They’re doing the best they can.”

—

“Who did it?”

Izuku’s voice comes out low and the fatigue in it is evident. The random beeps and whistles of the machines in the intensive care unit have worn him down over time, especially in the last hour, not to mention the drip, drip, drip of the bag of intravenous fluids that hooks up to your wrist.

The man in front of him balks at the interruption, then clears his throat. It’s clear that Izuku does not want to hear the same recapitulation for the fifth time today, but unfortunately this is all he has to offer.

“Unfortunately sir, we have no idea who that-”

Izuku snorts derisively, an action that has the nurse freeze and the words die in his throat. His eyes are narrowed and he is clearly upset, but he remains perfectly still, save for rolling his aching broad shoulders back. He’s been sitting in this exact spot for too long, watching, waiting.

Hoping you will wake up.

“Who did it?” he repeats.

The nurse furrows his eyebrows and pulls his stethoscope off of his neck, playing with it in his hands. It’s a simple nervous gesture, but it drives Izuku slightly mad.

“The important thing is that-”

Izuku closes his eyes and lets out a quick sigh, then claps his hands onto his thighs loudly enough that it echoes throughout the room. When he reopens his eyes and focuses them at the useless individual in front of him, his tongue is sharper than the edge of a blade.

“I’m going to be quite honest with you right now. I don’t care about the chronology of what happened once she made it here anymore. You’ve given me every painstaking detail and I’ve sat here quietly and listened to it. Really, I appreciate all you have done to make sure that she stays alive. However, my wife is here with staples on one side of her head and hasn’t opened her eyes since I got here... I’ve wanted to hit something desperately for the past twelve hours and if you don’t start giving me useful information - as in something I can act on - in the next minute, it may regrettably be you. So start talking.” 

The nurse’s face grows ashen.

“T-There’s no way for me to know that sir.”

There’s a pause in the air that nearly fills with the sound of the nurse’s heart beating out of his chest, and the beep, beep, beep of the overhead vitals monitor. Izuku smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m aware now,” he says, finally. “So please leave and let us rest.”

The nurse doesn’t have to be told twice, knowing that Midoriya has given him an abundance of mercy by not taking out his anger on him. He scrambles out so fast he trips on the way out.

As soon as he leaves, Izuku acknowledges to himself that he was far too harsh, and the fact that, if you were awake, you would have given him an earful for being so unkind. He’s barely acting like himself. He is kind. He is a kind man.

Izuku lets out a sigh and runs his hands through his hair five or six times, a seventh for comfort. Your own head is partially shaved and wrapped in gauze, and while you were extubated before he made it across the country to this very hospital, there’s still a myriad of wires and tubes that sprout from your body like weeds in an untended garden. He’s been having trouble looking at you, not because you’re too beat up to gaze upon, but because your face is actually miraculously spared from swelling (or at least appears so due to the wiring of your jaw shut) and you look so peaceful in your slumber that you might as well be dead.

He wasn’t there to protect you. Constantly traveling these days, having been dispatched to other parts of the country where a second wave of insurgency against the Hero-favoring status quo had again resurfaced, and then most recently overseas, he regrets the fact that he couldn’t possibly be there for you. Yet, you always insisted and proved you could handle yourself well. You’d said repeatedly that despite being better on the field when you were together, you were still pretty damn good on your own.

And it was true, even if Izuku didn’t particularly like you going on missions separately initially at first. Even if you weren’t ranked as high as him, you were still ranked among many capable Heroes which meant you were at least competent.

But this time you truly had bitten off more than you could chew.

Deku steels himself to glance at you again and intertwines his fingers with your slightly cool ones. He flinches at first - the fearless Symbol of Peace actually flinches - but then grips them tightly, remembering that you’re still breathing. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest beneath the slight covers that the hospital provides you, and makes a mental note to bring your favorite blanket from home.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he prays quietly that it’s not work related because he truly believes that this will push him over the edge, but it’s a text from Bakugou.

We made dinner for when they eventually kick you out. You can stay with us for tonight.

Izuku’s eyes start to burn. 

His friend thinks of everything. Katsuki understands, having been in the same position with his own partner just months ago. It had been so easy for Izuku to open up his home then, and now his friend has the opportunity to return the favor. It’s bittersweet. 

Izuku chokes down a sob.

Thanks, Kacchan. 

He doesn’t want to leave but visiting hours will be over in a couple of hours, and he’ll be inevitably separated from you again. 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can no longer be by your side.

[ponyosmom35]

show him

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter three!

synopsis: reader is struggling with the aftermath of disrespecting Ghost. Everyone seems to avoid her now. Gaz and Soap come to the rescue and enlighten her about Ghost.

Link to full Liability series!

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She walks into the lunchroom, her back aching. She’d been with a soldier all day dealing with an impalement. She was able to save him and keep his vitals stable. She made herself a plate of the food being served, it was taco Tuesday her favorite day of the week. Walking over to an empty table and sits down, she looks over her shoulder at the others staring back at her. She’d made quite a reputation for herself as rumors spread around that she’d spoken to Ghost. She rolls her eyes, feeling like she was back in high school all over again. 

“Hey ankle biter what are you doing over here?” Soap asks as he plops down across from her with a plate packed to the brim with food.

“Hungry?” she asks 

“Starved” he says inhaling his first taco

“I don’t think anybody wants to associate with me right now” she admits “feels like high school all over again”

“Eh fuck em’, they don’t know what to make of you lass. Nobody speaks to Ghost the way that you did, plus there ain’t many young American beauties around here” he adds, she rolls her eyes and sets down her food. 

“He’s hated me from the moment I got here, I shouldn’t have done it but I’ve had enough, someone needs to take him down a peg” she explains causing soap to cackle. “That you certainly did, you’ve got quite a reputation round here. You’re the bravest person here, I’m surprised you survived, LT ain’t one to take back talk” Gaz says as he sits beside her.

“Hey Gaz” she says 

“I don’t know how you did it, I work with the man everyday and you’d never catch me mouthing off to him, look I’ve got chills just thinkin bout it” Gaz says showing them his forearm

“Whats his deal?” she asks “I mean the mask, the attitude? Why is he like this?”

“Not my story to tell love” Gaz says with his hands raised in defense

“LT doesn’t hate you, he wasn’t trying to be rude, he just comes off that way” Soap explains

“What do you mean?” 

“Ghost ain’t afraid to speak his mind, doesn’t matter if it hurts. He’s blunt and straight to the point. He takes his job seriously, this is his life. He’s got high expectations of everyone he works with. He doesn’t accept failure, he doesn’t entertain anything less than perfection” Gaz says

“How am I supposed to be perfect with him breathing down my neck? I’m not one of his soldiers, I mean who does he think he is?” she exclaims angrily 

“He’s the greatest fucking solider I’ve ever seen” Soap says defending his leader

“Ghost isn’t some random LT bossing people around, the guy is fucking lethal. He’s the greatest asset the SAS has, there ain’t nobody in the world like him” Gaz explains 

“He’s a fucking legend, half the world is terrified of him” Soap adds 

“Great, now I’ve got a target on my back then?” she asks 

“He’s not like that love, you’ve just got to earn his respect. It’s tough but once you do, there is nothing that man wouldn’t do for you. He’s a loyal motherfucker, does anything for his team, there is nobody else I would want leading me into war. You just have to give it time, you’re here because you’re good at your job. We’ve all seen it, now show him” Soap says placing a hand on her forearm “you got this ankle biter”

“Stop fucking calling me that” she laughs 

“How about ginger snap?” Gaz asks 

“Even worse! You guys are so unoriginal” she responds, finishing off her taco. In the time they’d spoke, Soap had demolished at least seven tacos and a side of dip. 

“Jesus take a breath” she jokes 

“No time” he responds before standing up

“Where are you going mate?” Gaz asks 

“Seconds” he deadpans, staring at them like they were crazy

“He doesn’t joke about taco tuesday” Gaz says nudging her shoulder to cheer her up. She sends him a smile.

[callmeoncette]

Do u take requests?

if u do can you make hobie brown x black reader where she beats the fuck out of this girl for flirting with her man. Like he clearly not interested, but she keeps insisting and then talks shit abt reader and reader goes ballistic on her ass.

thanks boo😘

Invited To The Cookout

Hobie x fem!black!reader

I remember someone mentioned they’d like to see him in a black southern cookout setting so I just mashed the two together if that’s okay with you!

Warnings: fighting, use of the n word, and a bit of suggestiveness at the end and I think that bout it

Hobie plucked away on his guitar, occasionally dodging a shirt or skirt, as he waited for you to get ready to go to one of your family’s many cookouts during the summer. He dressed casually. Black chucks, ripped up jeans with a few chains dangling, and a breezy band shirt because he learned very quickly that the southern heat in your dimension was nothing to mess with.

He smiled softly as he listened to you talk on FaceTime with your favorite cousin, who he mainly knew went by the nickname Bookie, trying to catch up on drama and coordinate your outfits. Your accent sounding thicker than normal as you two conversed.

“No cuz why my brother lie to that girl and tell her he was watching my baby? That negro ain’ watch shit but the back of his muthafuckin’ eyelids!” Your cousin said through the phone doing her hair

“He so weird for that like if you ain’ wanna go wit’ the girl just tell her…” you then smirked a bit and got closer to the camera, “I used to do that shit too tho’ I ain’t gonna’ lie.” You cackled like you’d list your mind. You then held up a large shirt and a pair of custom air force’s, “you think I should jus’ do these wit’ summ biker shorts? They go wit’ the colors Bee got on…” Bookie perked up, “oh my friend comin’?! HEY HOBIE!!” She yelled excited into the phone. He walked over to where you were and waved, the both of you laughing at her antics. She dropped her phone and the screen was black for a bit before she lifted it again to show her face along with a sweet baby girl’s, “Lala look! Its Hobie!” The baby babbling excitedly. You ‘awed’ softly at the sight before it was interrupted by your cousin pulling a confused face as she mumbled along reading something. Her face then fell as she groaned. Hobie quirked a brow while you asked her what was wrong, “Maggie bringin’ Tisha. You gon’ see yo bestie girl!” She laughed. Your face fell, “Stop playin’ wit’ me Bookie. You know I don’t like that girl.”

Hobie looked at your irritated face in confusion. You’d never mentioned the girl before but there’s clearly some history between the two of you. “Well alright…I’ll see you when you get at Granny’s girl. Khalil just got home from work so imma fix him a lil summ before we go.” Bookie said as her boyfriend walked behind her placing a kiss on the top of her head. You said your goodbye and hung up, laying your phone down a bit aggressively.

He stood behind you as silence took over. A pout on your face as you started doing your hair. His fingers drummed on his pants, “right, so who’s Tisha?” His voice is normally cool with a tinge of curiosity only you could pick up. You sighed a bit while rolling your eyes at the mention of her, “this bobble head bitch I can’t stand! Me and her been beefing since middle school.” you roughly brushed out your hair before he took the tool from your hands. He nodded, “the anarchist in me is screamin’ to tell you to fuck up the slag but I know you been wantin’ me to come to your ends and meet your fam’. ‘Ow bout we just avoid her and ‘ave a good time, yeah?” A soft kissed placed on your forehead, then your cheek, then your nose. You giggled lightly and pushed his face away, “okay! Okay fine! Now lemme hurry up an’ finish cuz we gotta pick up the drinks.” You say with a small smile.

———

You guys pulled up to your family home. The house wasn’t large and grand but the energy of it and the land made up for it. The yard and backyard was full of your relatives who waved and stared as you got out with Hobie. He looked around at everyone and let out a low whistle at the sight. He felt a familiar tingle and turn to see your cousin’s boyfriend holding their one year old, “it’s a lot right? I still be stuck everytime we come to one of these.” Khalil said with baby Jayla on his hip. Hobie hummed while he dapped the man up, “my guy!” He then squinted as he looked around, “she always said ‘er fam’ was bare big. Just didn’t think it was this big.” Khalil nodded, his locs swinging, “yeah they all hella cool tho’ ‘cept for like a few. [name] prolly explain that to you tho’ so…” the man shrugged lightly making his daughter laugh.

You walked up to the boys with Bookie laughing. She quickly held Khalil’s hand and turned to you, “c’mon girl. You know we gotta speak to Granny and Gran before anybody else.” She said to which you nodded knowing that in your family you spoke to the matriarchs first. It wasn’t really a rule, more so something you just did. You two led the way to the porch of the house where your great grandmother sat in a rocking chair with a thin blanket over her lap. She slowly turned to peer at your group and you spoke up first, “hey Gran.” She squinted with a frail smile, “hey, w-who you baby?” She asked, confused. “It’s [name], [mother’s name] daughter? I’m one of your great grandkids.” A bright smile come on her face as well as a look of realization. She nodded, “yes! I remember honey. How you been?” She asked but before you could answer her attention turned to Hobie who awkwardly stood beside you, “oh. He one my grands too?” You all laughed a bit. You shook you head and gently corrected her, “no Gran. He’s my boyfriend.” She nodded “I thought so. Too tall to be one of mine.” You giggled again and hugged her, “imma go see Granny now okay? It was good talkin’ to you.” You then led Hobie into the house while your cousin had her time with the woman.

“She’s a peach. ‘Ow old she anyways?” Hobie had thrown an arm over your shoulders and leaned down closer to you. You rolled your eyes, “you not supposed to ask a lady her age.” He pulled you closer, “yeah, but I didn’t ask the lady I asked someone else. Bit of a loophole, innit?” You sucked you teeth and pushed him with a laugh. “She’s 97.” He let out a low whistle, “97 years. That’s mad long!” He said in a bit of disbelief. You held the hand of the arm thrown over your shoulders and hummed in agreement walking to the kitchen where you knew your favorite woman was.

There she stood cutting up cheese for the macaroni while she hummed along with a song by Big Jay McNeely. Seeing her made you feel like a little girl again. How you always nagged her while she cooked and she’d answer your questions without missing a beat.

“Hey Granny.”

She looked up and broke out into a smile. She came over and hugged you tightly, “oh my sweet girl!” She pulled back and looked you up and down, “lemme get a good look atcha!” She hummed happily. Her eyes drifted to Hobie, “and who is this handsome young man?” A welcoming smile on her face. “This is Hobie Granny. My boyfriend.” He stuck out his hand, “it’s nice to meet yo-oh!” Your grandmother had yanked him into a tight hug. She pulled back up looked up at him, “oh so tall! My grandbabies pickin’ right might finally get some height in this family.” She squinted as she peered at his piercings, “all these piercings don’t that hurt sweetie?” You sigh and save Hobie pulling him back to your side, “Granny.” She waved you off, “I know. He’s still very nice on the eyes.” She smirked. She then looked back to Hobie, “now. Thought I heard an accent in there. Where you from?” “London ma’am.” He replied respectfully. She nodded, “okay, okay. Well I hope you hungry cuz I’m almost done in here.” “Smells bangin’. Can’t wait to eat it.”

Before anyone could say anything else Bookie came in, “Granny I brought your only great grand can I get the first plate?”

“Girl!”

———

Hobie sat down beside you at the picnic table eating. In front of the two of you was your cousin and her crew. As he ate he kept feeling someone’s eyes on him and every time he looked up it was the same girl. She was white from what he could tell, had black hair to her shoulders with her edges done, a septum, and over lined lips with lipliner and gloss combo you usually used. She would smirk whenever their eyes met but it never went further than that.

Once everyone finished eating you turned to him wiping the corner of his mouth, “want some dessert baby?” He smiled softly, “that’d be lovely, doll.”. Bookie stood with you also going to get some while Khalil went off to change Jayla leaving the punk alone. That is until the mystery girl sat herself beside him a little too close for comfort.

“Hey.” Her tone making him scoot over a bit.

“Uh hi.” He said before pulling out his phone hoping she wouldn’t continue talking but of course luck wasn’t on his side. “I saw you wit’ [name]…” she her name with a smidge of venom that he caught, “y’all like friends or summ?” He continued scrolling on his phone but answered her, “bit more than that, mate.” She sucked her teeth in annoyance, “what wrong wit’ you? She don’t let you have friends?”

“Not with bitches holding onto that one black grandma like their life depends on it.” Oh thank goodness for Bookie.

You stood beside her with a stank face and two bowls of banana pudding. You placed one in front of him and placed yours at your seat but chose to stand and stare at the girl.

“You know you don’t talk like that in real life Tisha.”

Oh fuck.

The girl stayed at her seat beside Hobie and rolled her eyes, “whatever girl. He ain’t yo nigga. Yours busy with that baby so worry ‘bout that!”

Everyone started taking notice of the discussion. Tisha’s friends, including a distant cousin of yours, coming over.

Bookie screwed her face up and almost lept across the table till Khalil swooped in, “mention my kid again and I promise you. He ain’t gon be able to keep me from you.” She growled.

You glared at the girl, “he ain’t hers but he mine and he clearly don’t wanna talk to you. I suggest you stop sayin’ nigga by the way before actual niggas tag yo head.”

“She’s part black…”

“Shut yo dumbass up Maggie oh my god!”

“I think he can speak for himself.” Tisha said snidely.

It happened so fast but it also felt like slow motion. Even with his spidey sense Hobie didn’t see the attack coming.

After her snide remark you promptly dragged Tisha from the table and commenced to beating dat ass! Like you really whooped that hoe! Walked that girl like a dog! Honestly you should be ashamed of yourself. Shame on you [name]. Shame! Why you do that girl like that?!

When you finally got dragged off of her by Hobie who whispered in your ear trying to calm you down she was just a mess on the ground. Her wig as gone, she was missing a sandal, she had holes all in her leggings, and as much as she tried to cover it she had a knot and black eye.

Everyone whispered around shocked before one of you uncles spoke up, “aight now. Someone get the girl up off the flo’. Get her on home.” He said as her friends came to her aid. He shook his head mumbling, “shouldn’t been talkin’ shit.”

———

You sat at the kitchen table hissing in pain, “ow! That hurts Hobes!” He sucked his teeth, “oi, pipe down Mayweather. It’s not that bad.” He said as he internally winced, putting bandaids on your fingers where your nails broke off too close. You pouted before looking at him as he carefully worked, “I’m sorry I did that.” The man snorted before actually full blown laugh. “What are you apologizin’ for? Did wha’ you had to do, yeah?” His tone is light and playful. He then smirked, “it was a bit hot too…” he kissed your hands as he placed the last bandage. You looked at him with low eyes, “oh yeah?” “Yeah…”

“Ouuuu y’all in Granny kitchen being nasty!”

“You have a whole baby??? Get out???”

“Okay but lemme get summ of that potato salad behind you before I go.”

“BOOKIE!”

[phantom-playdough]

Human!Bill Cipher x GN!Reader: What's Valentine's Day?

Side note for the sake of the story: Bill and the Pines family are on friendly terms in this timeline. Just pretend, okay!?

TW: SLIGHT Attempted Sexual Assault, NOT BY BILL.

I promised my viewers on my YouTube channel that I would do a Bill Cipher x reader story, and people have wanted me to write such for years. So, I might as well give the people what they want and incorporate Valentine's Day. Hope you guys enjoy!

Guide: (N/n) = Nickname (F/B/F) = Favorite breakfast food

~~~

Y/n woke up to a certain someone booping their nose lightly. They opened their eyes, not fond of the fact that they were being awoken from their sleep. Of course, their best friend Bill was crouching in front of their face, mere hairs away.

"What do you want, Bill?" Y/n asked, not commenting on how close he was.

"I got a question for ya, sweets." He said, a bored expression coming over his face.

Sweets?

Y/n sat up and rubbed their eyes. "Well, what is it?" They decided to indulge in this conversation even though they had just woken up. Despite the rude awakening, Y/n struggled with the concept of being mad at Bill for an extended period of time.

He was too cute for his own good, honestly...

Bill hopped onto Y/n's bed, making Y/n bounce in the air a little bit.

"I heard Wendy talkin' 'bout some Valentine's Day thing? What the heck is that?"

Y/n blinked at that. "You don't know what Valentine's Day is?"

Bill shrugged. "I haven't been in this realm for that long, Y/n. Besides, you humans have too many holidays for me to remember."

It was hard to argue that when Y/n thought about it. December was overwhelming for Bill and, by extension, them because he was so confused by all the various traditions and holidays around that time of year.

"Valentine's Day is about expressing your l-love for others." Y/n saw the way Bill's uncovered eye widen in surprise. So, they were quick to add, "But it doesn't have to be about romantic love. It can be expressing love for friends or family. A-Although it is mostly advertised by people to be about romantic love. You normally do all of this by giving people gifts."

Y/n kicked themself in the head mentally at the fact that they kept stuttering with their words. It was too early for this conversation.

Luckily, almost suspiciously, Bill seemed to be eager to drop the topic almost as fast as it was brought up.

"Welp! Thanks for telling me, Y/n! Ya wanna go get breakfast at the diner?" Y/n was about to answer verbally, but their stomach seemed eager to answer by growling very loudly.

Bill cackled, slapping his knee dramatically. "I'll take that as a 'yes'!" He then stood up and left for the door, but he looked back at Y/n right before leaving. A serious look was on his face that made Y/n's hands sweat.

"Just outta curiosity, Y/n, do you have anybody you're gonna give a Valentine's Day gift to?"

Y/n flushed at that and wiped their hands on their blanket. "Uh, I was kinda just planning to give some stuff to Stan, Ford, and Soos." It was easy to see the glare from Bill. "I don't know what I would get you, Bill! I don't know what in this dimension would be a good gift for you."

Bill's face softens up. "Relax, Y/n. I'm just playin'. But I could say the same for you, though."

"Don't worry about getting me anything, Bill. Save that energy for someone you really like." Y/n said, brushing off the idea and hiding their feelings in the process.

In all honesty, Y/n really wanted to get Bill something. But making something would be hard to do, especially because Valentine's Day was tomorrow. Buying him something would serve to be even more impossible! Only a few months ago, he came into this dimension as a human and turned a new leaf. He hasn't had much time to adjust to how things were here. So, Y/n didn't know what would even serve as a good gift for him! Let alone whether he would want a practical gift or a sentimental gift.

But the idea of Bill giving them something made them even more uneasy than the other way around. Plus, Y/n didn't even consider the idea of what if Bill liked them back. It was not likely in their eyes.

Bill noticed how Y/n's face dropped a little at their own words, but he decided for once to not blab too much. Instead, he said, "Whatever you say, N/n. I'll meet ya downstairs." Bill then left the room without waiting for a response.

Y/n felt a little sad that Bill didn't argue with them about what they said, but they figured he didn't feel anything romantic for them. They brushed the disappointment aside and went ahead and got dressed.

When they came downstairs, Y/n was puzzled to not see Bill anywhere in sight.

"Bill? Where are you?" They called out.

No response.

Right when Y/n was about to call out again, they were poked in the middle of their back. They yelped out in surprise and turned around to see a certain smug blonde smirking down at them.

"Shut up, will you?" Y/n snipped, despite Bill not saying anything.

Bill's smirk only grew at that. "It's not my fault you space out so much, N/n." He flicked their forehead playfully. "Come on, let's go get some of those waffle-cakes."

"Pancakes, Bill." Y/n corrected.

"They're almost the exact same thing, Y/n!" Bill defended dramatically, making Y/n roll their eyes.

So, after a 15-minute walk that involved debating about pancakes and waffles, Bill and Y/n made it to the diner. The pair walked in and ordered their food. Y/n had (F/B/F), and Bill had pancakes, waffles, and a giant milkshake. When Y/n questioned why he got the milkshake, he said that having a brain freeze was amusing to him.

Once the meal was done, Bill begged asked for Y/n to go with him to the movie theater to see some random romantic comedy. Y/n had tried to ask him why he wanted to see it. But he only said, "It's research, sweetheart."

Y/n blushed as red as a rose at being called 'sweetheart', so much so that they completely dropped the topic.

So, they bought two tickets for the romantic movie. However, Bill was also bugging them to buy a GIANT thing of popcorn.

"I don't even know if the two of us can finish that when we literally just ate, Bill."

"Come on, Y/n! The popcorn is one of the most important parts!"

"To what?"

"To my research! Come on, please?" Bill once again begged.

Not wanting to hold up the line behind them because of their bickering with Bill and also not being able to say no to him left Y/n no other choice but to buy the popcorn.

Once they both got into the theater, Bill pulled Y/n to the back row, and they sat down. After the previews, Y/n started getting hungry from the aroma of popcorn next to them. Bill kept the bucket of popcorn in between the two of them so both of them could eat from it.

However, Y/n noticed Bill had not made a move to start eating any of it. They were confused, but they were not about to let the money they spent get thrown into the movie theater trash can without a fight.

So, Y/n reached their hand in to grab a handful of popcorn. But right as they put their hand in the bucket, Bill had put his hand in. As a result, their hands end up brushing against one another. Startled, Y/n retracted their hand and muttered an apology. Bill didn't respond to it at all, which only served to make the whole thing both more awkward and suspicious.

Instead, he only took some popcorn and munched away. Y/n waited for a good three to four seconds and reached in again to grab some when Bill brushed his hand against theirs again!

One time could just be an innocent mistake. But twice? The odds of that happening twice didn't make sense to Y/n. But they still muttered an apology and were ABOUT to pull their hand away. However, Bill clearly had different plans.

He simply grabbed Y/n's hand and held it in his own. Y/n looked at him in surprise, but Bill was just looking straight ahead at the movie with a semi-bored expression while he rubbed circles on Y/n's hand as though it was the most NORMAL thing in this dimension.

But if he wasn't making a big deal about this, why should they?

At least, that's what Y/n thought. So, despite them blushing profusely, they didn't pull away. But Bill just HAD to speak right when the embarrassment was dying down.

"Do all you humans sweat so much when holding hands?" He didn't even take his gaze off the movie when he asked.

"S-sorry." Y/n apologized again and tried to pull their hand away. But Bill tightened his grip. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to prevent them from slipping their hand out of his.

"It's fine, sweetheart." Bill spoke with a smirk, leaving Y/n a bright red, blushing mess.

After the movie, the pair almost killed the whole bucket of popcorn despite Bill refusing to let go of Y/n's hand.

The both of them exited the theater room when Y/n realized they forgot their phone at their seat. So they told Bill, "I'll be right back! Forgot my phone!" They didn't wait for him to respond as they rushed back in to grab it.

Y/n felt panic surge through them as they did not see their phone near their seat. But a guy who was cleaning up the row below clearly noticed Y/n's distressed face and said, "I take it this is yours?" Sure enough, he held up Y/n's phone.

"Oh, my God, yes! Thank you!" Y/n said, taking it from the guy.

"No problem. Uh, mind if I have your number?"

Y/n's face paled a little at the question. They didn't even know the guy's name, not seeing a name tag on him. They did NOT feel comfortable giving this random dude their number.

"O-oh, uh..." Luckily, the universe decided to bless Y/n with a savior at that moment. Right then and there, Bill walked over next to Y/n.

"I think they do mind, buddy." Bill spoke with venom. He appeared out of nowhere, practically. He must've come in when Y/n wasn't paying attention. But for once, they didn't mind him sneaking up on them.

The guy looked at Bill with a scowl. "Uh, who are you to be deciding that for them?"

Bill came closer to Y/n and put his hand around their waist, pulling them into him. But what Bill said next sent chills up Y/n's spine.

"They're off limits, kiddo. Turn around now before you see something you might regret..." The guy was spooked enough by Bill that he sped out of the room without a beat.

Once he was gone, Bill let a breath out through his nose he didn't know he was holding and turned to Y/n. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. You saved my skin there." They tried to laugh the whole thing off, but Bill clearly saw that Y/n was shaken up. He took their hand in his again and intertwined his fingers with theirs. The two of them stayed like that for a while when Y/n tried to change the subject.

"Is this a part of your research?"

"What?" Y/n squeezed his hand to specify what they meant. "Oh, haha, you could say that." Bill said as he squeezed back.

"Are you ready to head back to the Mystery Shack?"

Bill smirked and pulled Y/n outside. "Not quite. We got one last stop."

~~~

Eventually, Y/n and Bill were out in the woods. But by this point, it was dark out, and Y/n could hardly see anything in front of them. But Bill stayed ahead of them and assured them that this would all be worth it.

After a few more minutes of walking, the pair made it out to a small clearing in the trees. Bill let go of Y/n's hand and made a picnic blanket appear on the ground a few feet ahead of them. He sat down and gestured for Y/n to join him.

They did, and Bill pointed up at the sky. Y/n was blown away at what they saw.

A meteor shower.

"Ya know, they normally say to make a wish when you see a bunch of shooting stars, right Y/n?" Bill asked with a genuine smile.

"Yeah." They then closed their eyes and made a wish. When they opened their eyes, they noticed Bill looking at them.

"What'd you wish for?" He asked as if he really was curious.

"If I tell you, it won't come true."

"Oh, Y/n, you underestimate me." Bill said confidently.

Y/n looked down. "I wished that you and I would be friends forever." They said softly.

Bill's face immediately turned a bit sad at that. "Just friends?" He asked seriously.

"What?"

"Just friends?" Bill repeated, looking almost nervous.

Y/n blinked. First in confusion. Then realization. Then shock. "Bill, are you having a brain freeze or something?" They asked with a nervous laugh.

"No? Why?" Bill felt a little hurt at that comment. What made Y/n think that?

"Because there is no way you're serious right now. It's either that or you're pulling my leg."

"Come on, Y/n. Even I'm not that cruel. Not... anymore."

"Well, what else would make you ask me something like that?"

"You." Bill didn't skip a beat in replying. But he knew that Y/n was going to take the high road in this. Besides, if he was going to be rejected, he might as well go down swinging.

"I mean, I've only known you for a few months. But I've lived longer than you humans could comprehend, and I have never felt the way I have when I'm with you. The moments we have together are kinda simple, but I like it that way. You make the boring things humans do fun for me, and you've been patient with me while I try and learn about this dimension. I couldn't do all the fun stuff we do with anyone else in this town. You seemed so simple when I first met you. But you're even more strange than I am because of how you put up with me. What more could I ask for in--" Bill hesitated in the last words of that thought. "--in someone I love?"

Y/n struggled to take this all in. They weren't even totally sure if Bill could feel any attraction to someone in this dimension. But the speech he gave seemed very genuine, and it was clear he wasn't joking around at all.

Before Y/n could reply, Bill snapped his fingers and made a small golden necklace appear. There was a single golden triangle charm with the same grooves Bill had in his triangular form hanging from the chain. But instead of his one eye in the center like his demon form, there was a black, heart-shaped diamond.

"I'm not gonna force ya into anything you don't want, Y/n. But if you do feel the same, I want you to have this." Bill said, holding the necklace out for the taking.

Y/n didn't even need to ponder the offer. They knew their feelings for Bill. So, they took the necklace from him and put it on. Bill released a breath that he again didn't know he was holding.

"I wished for you to return my feelings." He muttered. Y/n laughed.

"You didn't need to wish for that. It's already true."

"So is your wish." Bill then wrapped an arm around Y/n, pulling them close to him.

"Happy Valentines Day, Bill Cipher." Y/n said before they leaned up and kissed him.

The End

[lowcosmic]

Hiiii, I hope I don't bother you with this, but could you make like, a very arrogant reader who is in love with Kokichi and the feelings are mutuals but both of them are in denial despite it being so obvious that everyone is just looking at them like 🤨. Between love your works I've pratically binge read all of your fics

—— repudiation . ; kokichi ouma

“ he smiled sweetly ( almost like an angel’s ) … ”

— 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : kokichi really likes you ; and you , as arrogant as you are , like him back . but the thing is , you both are in denial. though , with the help of a couple of your friends , maybe that’s subject to change.

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff

— 𝐜𝐰 : cursing

— 𝐚/𝐧 : u all are so nice to me tysvm ♡♡ !!!!

“ come ooon , forgive me , please? i didn’t knooow , pleeaaase stop ignoring me !! ” kokichi whined , tugging on your arm. once he got your attention , he pushed you to the ground.

“ what the actual — ” you stopped yourself when seeing the position your both were in.

“ how could you ignore this face ?! ” kokichi confidently asked , putting his hands on either side of you.

“ … whatever. ” you murmured , a rushing heat pooling from your neck to your face. “ fine. just get off. ”

kokichi grinned and hugged you before getting off. “ aww , were you flustered ?? ”

“ i wouldn’t — !! i wouldn’t get flustered by some pipsqueak like you !! especially since — ”

“ i’m hungry. i’m sure you are too , maybe for something other than food! ~ ”

“ what the — !? shut up. i should be saying that to you with your horny ass. ”

“ come ooon. all the good food’s gonna be gone by the time you’re done yapping about how much you hate me !! ” kokichi urged.

“ i don’t hate you … ” you muttered under your breath.

kokichi spun around to look at you. “ what was that? ~ ”

“ nothing. ” you simply replied.

the walk to the lunchroom was full of talk. about lively matters , about school drama , about — well , anything you and kokichi could find to talk about.

eyes mostly pinned on the other , you two walked into the room with all smiles.

the regular bunch was there , doing their regular agenda.

“ it’s your turn to get lunch for the both of us , kokichi! meetcha at the usual table. ”

“ ughhh , with miu ?? do i have a choice? ” he complained.

“ ha , no. ” you playfully waved him off as you went to go sit with the others.

kaito seemed to be wanting to burst out with some question for you while maki gave him the death eye , which was probably the only thing preventing him from saying something.

meanwhile , miu was upfront about it. “ you and kokichi hang around together an awful lot , you must be fucking each other by now without any of us knowing! ” she cackled.

keebo rolled his eyes. “ what she meant was , are you guys dating yet? ”

“ i already told you guys , nothing’s going on between us! ” the heat from before came back , except it came acquainted with thoughts on what could happen if you did date kokichi.

“ but you guys are always stuck together , or at least in the same room. ” shuichi chimed in rather hesitantly.

“ exactly !!! you must have some feelings for him by now , right ?? ” kaito loudly exclaimed.

“ kaito. ” maki glared , which earned a yelp from kaito in return.

you regained a more calm , but still stubborn , aura. “ i don’t. i … ‘m pretty sure. i couldn’t like someone like him !! ”

“ but you like him well enough to ‘ hang around ’ him often. shouldn’t that be pointing to something? even so , human feelings are often misunderstood and are sometimes hard to interpret. we mustn’t harass (y/n) with questions , and instead try to lead them to the right path. ” korekiyo said.

“ and what’s the right path , hm? ” miu interjected.

“ following her heart , of course. ”

right then , kokichi walked up from behind. “ what was kaito yellin’ bout earlier ?? something idiotic i bet !! ”

“ HEY !! it was NOT idiotic !! i was saying how (y/n) — ” Kaito started to say.

“ shut it , idiot … i do have to question your tastes , (y/n). ” maki continued eating her food.

“ tastes on — ?? ”

“ nothing. anyways, let’s eat !! i’m starving. ” you hurriedly cut off kokichi. he looked at you suspiciously , but said nothing while the rest went back to their usual talk.

later , he started bugging you about before.

“ why won’t you tell me anything ?! ” kokichi grabbed onto the cloth on your back.

“ because. ”

he started tearing up ( with fake tears , of course ). you simply kept walking away. he caught up with you.

“ meanie. ”

“ uhh - huh. ” you looked at his face. on display was his crazy - cute form of puppy eyes , only reserved for you and you only.

you swore and immediately turned away. he knew that you knew that he would do anything to hear what you had to say about earlier.

it’d be easier just to tell him.

“ we were talking about feelings , okay? ”

“ ooooh !! romantic , i’m guessing ?? kaito really did yell abou — ”

“ yeah , yeah. bingo. ” you felt your face flush. were you really ready to tell him? and were these feelings really valid? it didn’t make sense.

“ aaaaand? sooooo? ” kokichi impatiently tapped his foot.

“ i think i love you. ” you diverted eye contact as kokichi fell silent. in that moment , kokichi knew that his feelings were valid. he liked you , no , even loved. there’s no way he’d let you go , even if it’d save his life.

“ … why didn’t you say so in the first place , dumbass? ” he said , making you turn around to face him , only to be met with your second tackle of the day.

he smiled sweetly ( almost like an angel’s ) , sunk his lips down to yours , and muttered a small , “ i love you too. ~ ” before closing the gap.

yes , everyone did tease you and kokichi the next day after you announced that the two of you were officially dating.

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Lowborn!Aemond x Highborn!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of Prince Daemon and a close friend of Prince Aegon who, like your father, is notorious for sneaking off to the streets of flea bottom. The one time you decide to join him on his nightly endeavours, you run into a charming yet mysterious someone who’s as beautiful as the sapphire that’s replaced one of his eyes.

Warnings: Indecent ogling, catcalling, harassment, foul language.

Part 1

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You asked in a hushed tone, following behind Aegon as he led you through the dimly lit passageways of the castle "If we get caught-"

"I've done this a thousand times and I’ve never been caught" He waved you off as he assured that there was nothing to be so concerned about.

With Aegon, it did not matter even if he was caught sneaking out the castle after dark, drinking away in ale houses or found in some brothel. It was you who would be ruined. Being born a woman came with a list of terms that you were told you had to oblige to if you wanted to survive in this hostile world; rules that did not apply to men.

Aegon had instructed that you should keep the hood of your cloak on at all times, to avoid anyone seeing the pearly white hair you had in common with all Targaryens.

The streets he led you through were bustling with people selling trinkets at their little stalls, children laughing and chasing after each other. A few drunk men ogled at you which made you a touch uncomfortable, to which you responded to by clutching Aegon's sleeve a bit tighter. The cloak only shielded your hair, not your pretty face.

Aegon noticed and protectively wrapped an arm around you, shooting a sharp look at the men who dared to stare at you with the gaze of a hungry animal.

He led you toward an alehouse from which he wished to purchase a flask of spiced wine. The establishment was filled with men much similar in nature to the ones you'd seen on the streets only minutes ago and you were uncomfortable by the thought of having to waltz in the midst of them.

"I don’t think we should go in" you meekly told Aegon, pulling his arm slightly "I don’t have a good feeling about this place"

Aegon did not wish to drag you into an environment in which you felt unsafe but his response was not one you were expecting.

"Why don’t you wait there, across this street?" he pointed into the distance toward a cart which held a few vegetables "I'll only be a moment"

"You are leaving me alone? Here?" you were taken aback by how he didn’t even think twice before suggesting this. The place was flooded by men who seeked for an opportunity such as this. A frail girl in a foreign environment who could easily be subject to their animalistic wants.

"I promise I won’t take too long"

And with that, he turned and walked into the alehouse, leaving you with no other option besides having to stand by the little cart in the near distance. Your heart was pounding in your chest but despite the nerves, you tried to mask your anxiety as you pulled your cloak tightly around your frame.

'She’s a pretty one, ain’t she'

You ignored the comment that someone made followed by a cackle that made you shiver. Gods Aegon, come back already.

'The money I would pay to have her warm my bed'

'Money? I ain’t paying no one. I simply take what I want'

Your breaths became more ragged when you heard the voices get louder, signalling the people who it belonged to, were getting nearer.

"Lovely thing like yourself shouldn’t be out here in the cold" one of the men grinned as he eyed you from top to bottom, making your skin crawl "How bout we taken you back to ours, warm you up"

You ignored them.

"He asked you something" the second man snapped, making you jolt with the sudden spike in the volume of his voice "can’t you talk? Perhaps I ought to open that pretty mouth of yours with my cock"

"Leave me be" you managed to speak, the tremble in your voice giving away the fact that you were afraid of the situation you were in "I am expecting someone"

"I can be quick" the first guy laughed as he dared to caress your cheek, the touch made you sick to your stomach "In fact, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be willing to leave for y-"

"The lady said to leave her be"

You were too stunned out of fear to bother turning around to see who it was who had intervened. You were fearful that perhaps it was another drunk who approached to claim you as his property for the night.

The men stood before too seemed to think the same before they tore that lustful gaze away from you and looked toward whoever was standing at a fair distance behind you. Their expressions were hard to read. They seemed disappointed, angry and partly afraid of prolonging their conversation with you. Yet, they did not leave, glaring daggers until the mysterious person spoke again.

"The last man who challenged me was found the next morning without his cock" he said in a monotonous voice "perhaps you two would like to join him? Start a little club of your own, rant about how life was before your little friend was chopped off"

Under different circumstances, you would’ve found this comment slightly comical but in the present, all you cared about was leaving this horrible place.

Without another word, the two men walked off, still quiet disappointed that someone had walked in on their fun.

"Are you alright miss?" The mystery man walked around you until he was stood in front of you, not too close though "They didn’t do anything, did they?"

His tone shifted from cold and heartless to soft and gentle when he spoke to you. He too had his hood pulled over his head and an eye patch covered his left eye. He had sharp features and you could see a few whisps of dusty blonde hair sticking out from under his hood.

"N-no, I-" you were still a bit shaken up from before but you answered him "I'm alright"

"Because if they did, wouldn’t take me long to slice their hands off" he spoke and even though you seemed to take it as a joke, he was being quite serious.

"That won’t be necessary" you told him. I could order for their heads if I wanted to, you thought, I'm the blood of a dragon "Thank you"

"T'was no problem miss" he politely spoke and you could swear you saw a hint of a smile but it vanished just as soon as it appeared "You aren’t from here"

"What makes you say that?" you asked even though you knew his observation was spot on.

"The only women you'd find around these streets are the ones who work in pleasure houses" he stated as he crossed his arms "and you most certainly aren’t one working for any establishment"

"What gives it away?" you curiously asked and saw him heave an amused sigh.

"Apart from the fact you were absolutely mortified by the approach of those two men, quite the opposite reaction a whore would have; you’re wearing silk velvet beneath this sad excuse of a cloak. Fine material like that shows that you are not one of us townsfolk" despite him stating his observations of you, his eye never wandered over your body and stayed fixated on your face "and if that wasn’t reason enough, you’re far too pretty and perfect. No circles beneath your eyes nor crows feet, as if you’ve never had to work a day in your life"

Even though you'd heard it many times before, hearing him call you pretty made you smile ever so slightly. It shouldn’t have made your chest flutter, after all, he was a lowborn.

"Did my honest comment of your beauty make you smile, princess?" He chuckled as he grinned at your adorable reaction.

What- Princess?

"The hood only covers your unique hair" he seemed to understand what your next question might be based on how your smile instantly vanished as your eyes widened "but you failed to realise that your disguise did absolutely nothing to conceal your lavender eyes"

He did make an excellent argument. Still, it surprised you he’d unmasked exactly who you were within a few moments of your encounter. Perhaps the others might’ve too if they weren’t so busy raking the rest of your body with their indecent stares. Despite this man being short of one eye, he by far had the sharpest vision.

"I must commend your sharp and rather accurate observation" you told him in a hushed tone "your act of kindly rushing to my aid won’t go unrewarded"

"I didn’t do it with hopes of gaining any coin, my lady" he politely told you "I do not tolerate men treating women as some plaything they can use and abuse when they see fit. Besides, I only realised you were the princess after they'd left and I moved from behind to speak with you. Though I do beg your pardon, for I do not know which Targaryen princess you might be"

Sharp and respectful, you thought. This was a man you'd met only moments ago and yet he was by far the most courteous person you’d conversed with. He was polite with an authoritative undertone. In fact, you’d go as far as to say he was far more interesting and pleasant than most of the suitors you’d met.

"Y/N" you sweetly introduced "and may I ask your name, sir?"

"Aemond, my lady" he gave you a curt not, taken aback by the respectable endearment you’d used whilst addressing him. He'd heard many terms used while being spoken to: arseling, freak, rat; but never sir.

"Aemond" you repeated. You liked his name, it suited him "you need not use formalities, call me by my name"

"Alright then, Y/N" he called out, offering you a boyish grin at the mention of your name "might I be so bold as to ask what you are doing by yourself in a place like this?"

"Oh I wasn’t-" fuck, you’d forgotten about Aegon "I was here with my cousin. Who promised he'd be here as quickly as possible"

"If you are referring to the prince Aegon, I'm afraid he’s wasted away in that ale house over there" he pointed behind toward the same building into which Aegon had wandered into "I don’t mean to sound pushy, but it would be best if you headed back"

You knew he was right but for some reason you found yourself wanting to spend more of your time in his company. He was polite enough to walk you back toward where one of the castle passageways led to. You wondered why and how he knew of this but you did not bother asking, you were too engrossed in the lighthearted conversations you both were having on the walk back.

Aemond wasn’t much of a talker, he instead liked to listen. He did make a few comments and asked a few questions here and there that let you know he was invested in the conversation.

"Forgive me if I sound like I'm being intrusive" you spoke as you kicked away a small pebble. Aemond was thoroughly surprised by how politely you spoke to him whilst you yourself were a dragon and he, a mere nobody. For some reason, even his scarred face with the absence of an eye did not seem to bother you nor change the way you treated him "might I ask what happened to um.."

He found it slightly adorable how you failed to put your question into words, simply pointing to your eye to hint at what you were asking. Aemond did not like talking about it, simply because the only time people asked him was when they stared at him like he was some circus animal, put up on a stage for the eyes of others to judge and poke fun at his maimed state. But he could sense nothing of that sort coming from you. No, you were just a girl, curious about this mysterious man who came out of nowhere to her aid and was now walking her back home.

"I got into a fight a few years ago when three men tried to inappropriately lay their hands on my younger sister" He earnestly told her as he reached up to take off the leather eye patch "I stole a gemstone a few months after the wound healed, had the sapphire replace the empty eye socket in an attempt to seem less frightening, it did not work"

Aemond didn’t know what possessed him to reveal the sapphire eye to you. He himself was quiet proud of how it looked and for a fleeting moment he was eager to show you as well, momentarily letting his guard down and almost instantly regretting it. He'd just mentioned the stone did absolutely nothing to fix his appearance, then why did he find the need to show you? Furthermore he internally winced upon confessing that he'd stolen the gem, to the princess.

Either you had not heard him or you did not care about his thievery.

"It's beautiful" you smiled as you leaned in slightly to admire the gem before you blurted out "you’re beautiful"

With each passing second, you seemed to surprise him more and more. You, a lady of noble birth, a Targaryen- someone who was closer to the gods than to men had just called him, a commoner with a flawed face, beautiful.

"You’re too kind" he could feel his cheeks heating up as he quickly reached up to put on his eye patch once again. He couldn’t believe that this delicate little princess had managed to make him, the man that most of flea bottom feared, blush.

The two of you finally reached the place where you both would depart from each other. You, back to your warm castle and Aemond, back to his hostile slums.

"I hope you find your way back safely" he gave you a curt nod.

"Will I see you again?" you quickly asked, not wanting this to be your last encounter with the lad.

"Well that depends on the frequency of your visits into the city, though I do not recommend the place where we met" he raised a brow as he smirked, reaching out to gently hold your hand "Maybe the princess would care to meet me right here tomorrow, after supper so that I might take her to a place suitable for a dove as yourself"

Aemond knew he was making a bold move, asking for the princess of House Targaryen to leave the serenity of her castle to meet him, a man who lived a pauper’s life. He looked down at her with an equal measure of nervousness and hopefulness.

You smiled at him.

"I would like that very much" you accepted his invitation.

He brought his lips to your hand, placing a tender kiss to your knuckles without looking away from your striking eyes "until tomorrow then, princess"

"I told you," you chuckled lightly "call me Y/N"

"Of course" he smiled.

Right before he could let go of your hand, you took a step forward and going on your tip toes, you placed a soft kiss right beneath his scar and you could swear you heard a faint gasp escape his lips.

"Goodnight, Aemond" you bid him farewell one last time before you turned to sneak through the concealed entrance of the passageway inside the stone building.

"Goodnight Y/N" Aemond said in a whisper, almost like he was talking to himself. He stayed put, gingerly reaching up to touch the spot on his cheek that your lips had touched- no, kissed, only moments ago.

Part 2 >>

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Monkey business" - Druig x Reader

[TW: catcalling, physical fight, soft dark Druig vibes?]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

SUMMARY: Druig gets protective when a bold man foolishly decides to step over a line. Who knew he could actually be intimidating?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

A/N: is mob!Druig a thing? Because it makes me feel a little silly tbh

Druig was capable of controlling the minds of not only others but also himself - always collected, if a little cocky. As far as you knew, there was nothing that could make him lose his composure. So as it always is with human certainty, fate does its best to break it.

As one might have expected, it was you who convinced Druig to take a few days off, let the commune run on its own and for the two of you to truly have time for each other. To some extent, you had reasonable suspicions that he agreed to the little getaway just to make you stop pestering him about it. Or it just took him a little while to realize how much you needed to spend some time exclusively with him. And that's how you ended up strolling through the streets of Dublin, admiring a reality much different from yours. For the first time in your life, having spent so long in the Amazonian rainforest, the chill wind felt good brushing against your face.

Maybe he wasn't going to admit it to you, at least not in public, but if a getaway meant he got to see you dressed in a mini skirt and a tube top, Druig was willing to go for little trips with you a lot more often.

You were sipping on a green tea and peach bubble tea, a drink you swore by, and guiding him in the direction of some old church you wanted to see. Druig found it amusing that you would call early medieval architecture "old" right in his face.

"You're not old, love," you would say. "You're mature, vintage, like fine wine. Classy and timeless like all the other best things in the world."

The promenade was filled with people, each person moving on with their mundane, little life. Druig was enjoying that moment of anonymity, the lack of interest or expectations directed at either of you. He felt physically lighter when an entire community of people wasn't relying on him day by day.

Relative anonymity, to be exact. Yes, to his utmost displeasure you were garnering some attention and not of the innocent, curious type. He was used to staying back, quietly and closely watching as events unfolded to calmly decide the best approach, so Druig quickly noticed each gliding stare that stuck to you a little longer than he thought was acceptable. But he wasn't too surprised by that, not in the slightest - people were always interested in you, although you seldom noticed just how many did.

An unbearable, restless feeling sat in his stomach as he noticed a group of men clearly preoccupied with watching you, occasionally whispering something to one another. Dressed in faux gold and knock-off designer goods, they almost looked presentable. Their dark gaze followed each of your movements like vultures circling a dying prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. He knew that look, knew what thoughts hid behind it - mainly because once he wore it too, before that fateful day when he kissed you against a tree.

Considering the alarmed gut feeling he couldn't shake off, Druig might as well have been gifted with the ability to look into the future:

"I've got something else you can suck on!"

Druig felt your fingers squeeze his hand but, otherwise, you seemed unmoved by the unsavoury comment. Almost as if it wasn't the first time. He may have been beyond angry at the disgusting comment but the notion that it wasn't the first time, that someone had the guts to be so disrespectful to you, made him blindly furious.

"Hey, fopdoodle, that's no way to talk about a lady!" Druig yelled back. "Apologize."

"Gettin' pissy 'bout a joke? Where's ya humour, lad?" The man and his knockoff-wearing friends cackled.

"Right by the respect for women. Two things you seem to lack."

"Wanna fight me, little man?" the man asked while opening his arms - the universal invitation to a brawl. His friends were standing still as if their only role in that carry-on was to create an artificial mob.

But Druig refused to fight as a principle. Unless it was absolutely necessary, he wasn't going to raise a weapon. When the matter regarded you, however, he could never quite stick to his resolution but that quirk transpired into every aspect of his life: he waited for you to fall asleep first, you ate first and he shared his thoughts only after you've said whatever was gnawing at your mind. It seemed as if all of his care and attention was devoted to you and he had simply no more left to spend on himself.

Maybe it sounded horrible to some degree but you weren't worried for Druig, even if the men he was standing up to were physically bigger than him. He was this immortal, space demi-god, how could a mediocre mortal ever equal him in any way, shape or form? Besides, being capable of mind control meant that he could, quite obviously, omit a fight altogether should he want to.

"I don't have to."

"Oi, you're just chicken shit. Hey, pretty lady." The man's attention was once again on you. Druig shifted his body to cover you more and you couldn't be entirely sure whether it was conscious. 'Scared' was the last thing he was. "I'll treat you better than that chicken shit."

"Come on, Druig." You paid no attention to the taunting. "Let's just go."

He looked at you for a moment. Druig's face seemed to soften for a second when he noticed the resignation in your eyes. Then he squinted and took a ragged breath.

The situation took a dramatic turn in the blink of an eye:

Suddenly, one of the man's accomplices held his arms behind him while the other began landing sucker punches to his abdomen and chest. Druig was just standing there, his hands behind his back and you didn't need anything else to know that it was his doing. Although you weren't fond of him committing violence, you knew better than to start a fight about that - he was just one of those people who did whatever they set their mind to. The first time he needlessly escalated a situation like that, you were left completely baffled, never expecting such a collected man to have it in him. As time went by and you got to know Druig better, you realized it wasn't that there was some restless malice sitting deep in his viscera. The fact was that he cared, more than you were capable of imagining, maybe even more than he was letting himself feel. Perhaps there was a moment when the amount of affection and worry he had for you was simply overwhelming and he knew no other way to express it; like his body was experiencing such gut-wrenching sorrow or love that it turned to violence to hopefully get rid of the source of those unbearable sensations.

After a good few minutes of relentless punching, the man was basically hanging on his arms that were still tightly held by his, now zombie-like, friend. With a chilling calmness in his step, Druig approached the panting, groaning man. He leaned down to the man's face, their noses nearly touching. The audacious guy moved his face away from Druig in fear.

"Where's ya humour, lad?" Druig asked with mockery spilling out of each spoken word. He was staring at the frightened face of the once too-bold man, basking in his pathetic desperation. "Don't you dare talk to her like that," he whispered to the man. He patted the guy's cheek condescendingly before walking away.

Druig's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. His warm hand ghosted over your hip. You felt his lips place a long kiss on your head before he spoke:

"So where were we going?"

___

TAGLIST: @igotanidea

[reallyromealone]

I return

X

"Are you sure you don't wanna be a cool robot?"

"No thank you papa" (name) said softly and Steve sighed with a soft smile as Eddie cackled at the small boy "whatever floats your boat bud" Eddie said patting theur sons head.

"Dustin's taking him yeah?" Steve said to his husband who grabbed a drink from the fridge "yup, he's still getting ready in his room" the metalhead said offering his son a sip of the carbonated drink "still?? He's never been this obsessed with a costume"

"He wanna make girl fall in love" (name) said innocently as he let Steve put the cardboard box with arms and a head hole on the boy "whatcha talking about bud?" "He got cush on gorwl in class!" (Name) said and the two dad's looked at him wide eyed "dusty...has a crush on someone?"

"He talk bout it to Will all the time over talkie" (name) huffed and mumbled something about keeping him up "got any other gossip bud?" Eddie said playfully "aunty Robbie ated last of cereal" he said simply before waddling off to see what Dustin was doing "I knew it!" Eddie said with an angry Huff and Steve rolled his eyes.

"dusty! Hurry up!" (Name) with a huff and came in to see Dustin dressed as Freddie Kruger and poor (name) began crying loudly at it "what happened?!" Steve yelled as the parents checked up on them, Dustin taking off the mask "(name)! It's dude!"

(Name) looked confused and scared as he ran into Eddie's arms "bud, it's just a spooky costume" Eddie said to the tiny toddler who looked back to see Dustin's face "no monster?"

"No monsters bud, it's just your brother"

"Sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, it startled you"

When everyone was ready the parents went to a party at Eddie's music shop and Dustin and (name) went out trick or treating and meet up with the party where they looked at (name) confused "what is he supposed to be?"

"A cardboard box"

"...why?"

"Dad says he gets his sense of humor from pops side"

"That tracks"

The group went off trick or treating, the six teens keeping an eye on little (name) who was having a grand time "psst (name) trade you for those three Musketeers" Dustin said to the little boy, holding up a handful of (candy) and little (name) looked at the candy in awe "ok!"

One house was giving out soda and (name) struggled opening it "you good (name)?" Max asked and the small boy held it to her "help?"

The redhead opened the can and handed it back to the boy as the group took a short break "you having fun?" Lukas asked the toddler "popa wants starburst" as he then proceeded to eat a starburst "he ated my dunkaroo"

Lukas laughed at this and the group continued their journey, the group talking about a campaign they were working on with Eddie, little (name) to small to be able to hold focus on such a long game and usually hung with dad aka Steve.

When it was around 9pm the group returned to Dustin and (name)s house where they looked at their hauls, little (name) putting aside certain candies like Pez and the likes...old candy brands.

"What's he doing?"

"He likes to put candy aside for grandpa Wayne, they hang out on Saturday when we do our Champaign and Dad goes out with aunt Robin and Nancy"

"What do they do?"

"Grandpa Wayne and (name) work on woodworking projects for a while and then watch old movies and eat pizza until (name) passes out"

"Huh"

"Yeah, it's his most looked forward day of the week"

"Good for him"

When (name) finished his sorting and trading, Dustin helped him clean up and get ready for bed "aight dude, bath time!"

Many bubbles later and (name) was out cold in his little bed and the teens set up their horror movies around the time Eddie and Steve returned with pizza they promised to get the teens before going to check on the tot who was out cold but did notice a few starbursts and a few m&m packs on the dresser "Atta boy"

[sunflowernoodles]

Hiii! I saw your requests are open and, first off, I adore your writing! You are so talented omg. And I was wondering if you'd be willing to do a sequel to the "Detention" fic you did with Bakugou and Shinso? If not, I totally understand, but figured I'd ask ^^

Bakugou’s Revenge (Detention Pt. 2)

Been wanting to right a sequel for this one for a while so, I most definitely am willing to. Thank you for all the nice things you said too 💛🌻

Lee: Shinsou

Ler: Bakugou

~~

“You two are free to go.” Aizawa said from his desk.

The way Shinsou quickly gathered his things and booked it out of the classroom was absolutely comical to Bakugou. He grabbed his things, walking out calmly after Shinsou.

Shinsou kept telling himself that Bakugou was bluffing, just trying to scare him so he’d embarrass himself. If that was the case, then why was he practically running out of the school to get to the dorms? Because Bakugou was terrifying, and he wasn’t risking getting a taste of Bakugou’s revenge tickles.

Just as Shinsou was about to head upstairs, his book bag was grabbed and he was tugged back. The squeal Shinsou let out was embarrassing to say the least. “I told you you were dead when we got out.” Bakugou spoke as he shrugged off his book bag and took Shinsou’s before wrestling him onto the couch.

“I thought you were just bluffing. I’m not even that ticklish!” Shinsou protested as he tried to squirm away but he was pinned. Bakugou smirked.

“Then why were you walking so fast, hm?” He asked thoughtfully and pinched Shinsou’s side. Shinsou’s breath hitched and he stayed quiet, glaring at Bakugou. Though, Shinsou was just about the least intimidating person in the world right now, his face was flushed and he was so clearly holding back a smile.

Bakugou hummed slightly, poking around Shinsou’s sides and stomach in hopes to find a good spot. Shinsou flinched occasionally but was holding out pretty well. Until Bakugou gave Shinsou a good poke to his hip and he squeaked. They both froze.

“…Dude.” Bakugou snorted as he watched Shinsou’s face turn red. They made prolonged eye contact for a few seconds until Shinsou was thrown into a large bout of laughter when Bakugou ruthlessly dug his thumbs into Shinsou’s hips.

The embarrassing part, for Shinsou at least, was that Bakugou wasn’t even pressing into his hips that much. Shinsou was just that ticklish.

“STAHAHAP!” Shinsou cackled and thrashed around slightly, but going nowhere. His legs were kicking out behind Bakugou and a side smile was on his face. A smile that Bakugou was pretty sure he was seeing for the first time.

Bakugou chuckled, “Apologize first and maybe I’ll think about it.” He smirked slightly. Shinsou shook his head as a snort broke through his laughter.

“NEHEVER!” He laughed as he squirmed frantically, but he could admit, he was having a little fun. But could admit, Shinsou would first give away all of his favorite things before telling someone liked being tickled. Bakugou just shrugged and increased the intensity of his tickling.

Soon enough, Shinsou slapped the couch, “OKAY! I’M SAHA- I’M SOHOHORRY, JUST STAHAP!” Shinsou laughed and lightly shoved at Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” Bakugou said and backed off a moment later. “Are you alright?” He genuinely asked.

Shinsou attempted to speak, only wheezing out a small giggle. So he just waved his hand slightly as he nodded. The former nodded.

The two decided to hang out the rest of the day, and a few days after that, and so on. It turns out, that the two had quite a bit in common.

[partrin]

"what in the jujutsu sorcery"

a short, rinharu drabble inspired by the fact that i still cannot believe, till this day, that mahito and haru share the same japanese voice actor.

cw: spoilers for jujutsu kaisen S2E18

"this," rin starts, in between stuffing handfuls of salted popcorn into his mouth, "is intense."

haru nods. he keeps his eyes on the screen and watches as the antagonist—mahito—a flamboyant, grey-haired villain with an ugly hairstyle, a questionable sense of fashion and an absolutely grotesque way of transfiguring human souls and bodies into macabre forms, prances through an alley while squealing gleefully, dodging throws and punches from the main protagonist.

"nanami didn't deserve to die the way he did," haru says non-commitally, blindly reaching out for the bowl of popcorn that rin (selfishly) holds close to his chest. "if itadori had come sooner, maybe he wouldn't have died the way he did."

"oho, so you're blaming the redhead now?" rin asks, cocking an eyebrow. he waits, smugly, for haru to take his bait as he reaches around him for the aforementioned snack.

"i'm not blaming anyone."

"but you said that if itadori had come sooner—"

"i didn't."

"you clearly said—"

"i'm not. blaming. anyone." haru says, putting his proverbial foot down. he glances at rin through his peripheral vision, gives him the side-eye, and watches as rin straightens up and shakes the tension in his shoulders out. "all i meant was that if itadori had come sooner, maybe he'd have been able to intervene."

"don't we all wish someone would intervene sooner..."

"what was that?"

"nothing," rin mutters under his breath. "nothing."

the scene onscreen flashes once. sounds of heavy yet quick footsteps scurrying through walls of thorn-like protrusions echo in the air. mahito begins to chortle like a madman and yell something about how delighted he is to be in a fight like this with the redhead protagonist.

"y'know," rin begins after swallowing down another handful of popcorn, "he kind of sounds like you. mahito."

haru scoffs. "don't be ridiculous."

"i'm serious!" rin nods towards the screen of the laptop with his chin for emphasis the second mahito erupts in yet another loud, inherently evil screech. "he's got that weird baritone of yours; the kind that gets impossibly high once you start screaming."

"i do not sound like that," haru argues, looking positively peeved. "and i don't scream. that's your job."

"shut up," rin grunts. "and you do scream. think i forgot the time you yelled in my face in the locker room after regionals?"

haru rolls his eyes. "no. but i'm sure i didn't sound like—" mahito's cackling rips through the atmosphere, "—that."

they watch with their eyes peeled wide open as itadori mumbles some sort of bold, heroic, intrinsically-motivated speech to himself, the kind that speaks truth to power, as he punches and tears through the walls mahito erects in his path. tendrils of empowerment escape the screen and travel through their veins, feeding them with a constant, heady flow of pride for the protagonist and his impending victory over mahito.

"you do, actually." rin says without looking away. "you sound almost exactly like him." he shudders bodily. "remind me not to piss you off."

"you've pissed me off," haru notes. "many times, actually—"

"shhhh, haru—" rin hushes, nudging haru with his bony elbow. "itadori's 'bout to beat his ass and win."

haru shoves his elbow aside and doesn't mention that he thinks in this verse, and that of itadori's, redheads almost always come out triumphant.

[randomkidstarfic]

Omg I just saw the drabbles thing!

What about Kilik/Kid #5 👀

None of these are going to be drabbles, sorry everyone.

#5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” 

Kidd sat in the library, his head balanced on a fist as he read the book in front of him. It had been a slow day. There were no missions, Liz and Patty were at work, Maka and Soul were out, and Blackstar was who knew where. So Kidd took to the library, and had been reading all day without stopping. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

Kidd jumped, and looked up to find Kilik smiling down at him. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn't mean to scare you.”

“Oh. No, I was just distracted.” Kidd pulled out the chair beside him. “Go right ahead.”

Kilik sat and had a book ready, but glanced at Kidd's side of the table. “Whatcha got?” 

“I think this is just a short story collection.” Kidd glanced at the cover again. He had lost track of exactly what book he was reading ages ago. He just picked ones off the shelf and read. 

“You don't know?”

Kidd shrugged, and Kilik chuckled at him. 

“Well, I guess you are the god between us. What can I say?” 

“Whatever you want, I think.” 

They sat in silence beside each other for around two hours, both perfectly content to keep quiet and let the other read. Eventually Kilik closed his book and glanced at his companion. His fingertips tapped atop the cover. 

“Hey Kid.” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you…date?” 

Kidd glanced at him. “Date? What do you mean?”

“You know. Date. Like go out with people.”

“Oh.” Kid closed his own book. “I never have. But I wouldn't be against the idea.”

“So if I asked you out, what would you say?” 

Kid suddenly realized the context of the previous question and at first wasn't sure how to respond. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Well. I don’t know. I suppose you'd have to ask, wouldn't you?”

He smirked, and Kilik smiled back. Kilik opened his mouth to speak when he was suddenly interrupted. Someone slammed their hands down on Kidd's shoulders, bounded over his head and landed on the table. 

Kidd growled. “Blackstar,” he snapped. “You're going to wrinkle my jacket.” 

“If you're so worried about it, don't wear such fancy threads, death God.”

Kidd rolled his eyes. Blackstar squatted down and picked up the book. 

“Whatcha readin’?”

Kidd snatched the book back. “Short stories. Get off the table.”

“Yo, I'm looking for a bout, you down?” 

“I'm busy.” 

“Reading? Laaaaaame.” 

“Get off the table, Blackstar, you're going to get dirt on it.”

Blackstar smirked. “Why dontcha make me?” 

“I would, but I was having a very important conversation with Kilik.”

Blackstar looked at Kilik like he had only just noticed him. “Oh, hey Kilik. You been here this whole time?” 

Kilik frowned at him. “Yeah.”

Blackstar looked at Kid. “Just meet me outside, I'll be there.” 

Kidd rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you lose you wash the table.”

Blackstar cackled. “Sure, death God, sure.”

He bounded back over the chair and disappeared. Kidd rolled his eyes and gathered his things. “Sorry about him.” He smiled at Kilik. “You were saying?” 

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I was gonna ask you out.”

“I'd love to, Kilik.” 

Kilik glanced at the library door and vaguely gestured over his shoulder. “Is he…always like that with you?”

Kidd smile dropped. “Who like what?” 

“Blackstar. Like that. Ya know, flirting with you.”

Kidd chuckled, the idea so absurd he could do nothing else. “Flirting, you must be joking.” He paused “Hold on.” He furrowed his brow. “Are you jealous?” 

Kilik sputtered. “No. Of Blackstar? No. No way.”

“Sure. I believe you.” He stood up. “I better get out there before he comes back.” Kidd smirked over his shoulder. “Though perhaps it shouldn't be me fighting him this time.”

Kilik jumped out of his chair and followed Kidd outside. 

[myrammmortal]

Chapter 23, shut up bich! Birch! Bitch! Yeah, that one!

AN: dhut da fok up biches!1 ur jus jelos koz I gut 10000 reviowz!1 fangz 2 raven 4 da help n telin me bout da boox gurlu rok letz go shopin 2getha!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The door opened and Proffesor Rumbridge and Cornelia Fudge stomped out angrily. Then Till and Rumbridge sawed us.

“MR. WAY WHAT THE BEEP ARE YOU DOING!” Rumbridge shouted angrily. Till blared at her.

“Oops she made a mistake!” he corrupted her. “She means hi everybody cum in!” (in what?)

Well we all came in angrily. So did all the other students. I sat between Oliver and Richard and opposite Frau Schneider. Crab and Goyle started 2 make some morbid jokes. They both looked exactly like Ville Vollo. I eight some Count Chocula and nine som coffee from a cup, I normally use my hands. Then I herd someone shooting angrily. I looked behind me it was………Vampire! He and Richard were shooting at eachother. It was really impressive for Richard to be sitting next to me while shooting at Potter.

“Vampire, Richard WTF?” I asked.

“You fucking bustard!” yelled Richard at Vampire. “I want to shit next to her!1”

“No I do!” shouted.

“No she doesn’t fucking like u, you son of a bitch!” yelled Richard.

“No fuck you motherfucker she laves me not you!” shouted Vampire. And then……………… he jumped on Richard! (no not in dat way u perv) They started to fight and beat up each other. I begged them to stop trying to shit next to me, I prefer my bathroom time to be my alone time but they didn't listen to me. It must be my radiant beauty curse again.

Till yelled at them but they didn’t stop. All of a sudden…… a terrible man with red eyes and no nose flew in on his broomstick. He had no nose and was wearing a gray robe. All the glass in the window he flew thru fell apart. Also he had no nose in case that wasn't clear. Britney (that bitch that does have a nose) that fucking prep started to cry. Vampire and Richard stopped fighting….I shopped eating….Everyone gasped. Da room fell silent………………….Volzemort!

“Paul Darkness Omnipotentia Landers…..Paul Darkness Omnipotentia Landers…….” Darth Valer sed evilly in his raspy voice. “Thou havfe failed ur mission. Now I shall kill thou and I shall kill Vampire as well. If thou does not kill him before then I shall kill Richard too!”

“Plz don’t make me kill him plz!” I begged.

“No!” he laughed crudely. “Kill him, or I shall kill him anyway!” Then he flew away cackling. I guess he didn't plan on checking I actually killed someone. Which is bad practice for an evil overlord. Always make sure your victim does as they're told. That's just Evil 101 and I totally had that in this sad excuse for a school because I'm goffik.

I bust into tears. Richard and Vampire came to contort me. Suddenly my eyes rolled up so they looked all cool and gothic. I had a vision were I saw some lighting flash and then Voldremot coming to kill Richard while Richard slit his wrists in a depressed way. Less work for Evil Overlord McGee if he does it himself I guess?

“No!” I screamed sexily. Suddenly I locked up and stopped having the vision.

“Paul Darkness Dementia Raven Way Landers Paul Darkness Dementia Raven Way Landers aure you alright?” asked Richard in a worried voice.

“Yeah yeah.” I said sadly as I got up.

“Everyfing’s all right Paul Shadow Edgelord Omnipotentia Landers.” said Vampire all sensetive.

“No its not!” I shouted angrily. Tearz of blood went down my face. “OMFG what if I’m getting possessed like in Da Ring 2!”

“Its ok gurl.” said Frau Schneider. “Maybe u should ask Proffesor Sinister about what the visions mean though.”

“Ok bich.” I said sadly and den we went. 

[fictional-men-have-my-heart]

Day 30

Hello all! Welcome to day 30! I have some more time today, so how 'bout a lovely team-building drabble with the 141, Los Vaqueros, and Konig?

It wasn't an intended experience.

Gaz, Soap, and Alejandro had been messing around in the bunkhouse one day.

You came back from sparring with Rudy and Ghost, the two men in tow, only to be greeted by a destroyed table.

"Someone wanna explain what happened here?" You asked.

"SOAP BROKE IT!"

"DINNAE BE TELLING HAVERS! YOU CHUCKED ME INTO IT!"

"Look, I don't care who broke it. It needs fixed before Price comes back. He's gonna be back tomorrow." You point out.

"...Shit."

Cue the antics of a bunch of soldiers heading out to get a new table and assemble it. Konig and Ghost were brought along as the muscle.

"Our table was black, do we need to find another one like it?" Gaz asked.

"I don't think so. Table's a table." Ghost grumbled.

The real fun began when you got back to the bunkhouse and tried to assemble the table.

Konig and Ghost sat in the chairs off to one side, watching the chaos unfold.

Gaz and Soap sat in the middle, surrounded by pieces.

Alejandro and Rudy were bickering about whether to assemble the bottom or top first.

After a half hour, Gaz had left the room, saying "he'd be back shortly."

You looked at Ghost, slowly reaching for the instructions.

"I feel like those might help..." He mutters. You're holding back laughter.

"They're sharing a brain cell." You whisper. Soap raised an eyebrow at you now cackling as Konig and the Ghost shook with barely-contained laughter.

"Johnny, pass me a screwdriver." You smile, sitting beside him.

Twenty minutes later the table is up and done, and suddenly Gaz reappears, a bag in each hand.

"Oh, you're done. Awesome."

"Of course, you show up now Kyle."

"Shut up, I brought food." He retorts.

Dinner was had and you smirked.

"So, are you boys ready to admit what happened now?"

"I'm telling you, Soap broke it." Gaz blurts.

"Hey, I wouldn't 'ave if you hadn't tossed me onto it." Soap retorts.

"...I have a video of it..." Alejandro grins.

"...Show us." Ghost chuckles.

*Cue clustering around Alejandro as he plays a video of Gaz charging at Soap, tackling him into the table.*

Bonus:

Price returned the next afternoon, not mentioning the table at all.

You laughed at how Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro seemed a little on edge with Price back, almost acting like kids trying to pull off a stunt without dad noticing.

"Hey, kid, c'mere." He'd chuckled. He had an encrypted laptop, and he turned it toward you slightly.

"What?" You mutter, watching the same video Alejandro showed you.

"Think they've realized I got a nanny cam to babysit them while I'm gone, right?"

"...No sir, I don't believe they have..." You reply.

"By the way, what did you say that cracked Ghost and Konig?" He asked as you stood to leave.

"Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro share a brain cell."

[stronghours]

2008; 21, 45

It took twenty minutes flat, between Jules slamming the door shut upon his exit from the backseat to Martin spotting his dark head reappearing over the hoods of parked cars. He returned by himself, without Paul. Walking normally, he slid into the passenger seat and closed the door with little politeness. He offered no words. Martin played at fumbling with the keys to lengthen the time between the silence and the engine in case words were going to be offered right away. He doubted it, and correctly.

“Take me somewhere,” Jules said, once they’d nosed into traffic. He sounded terribly hoarse. A livid red puddle marred his cheek, and the rest of his skin transitioned from saturated to sallow between streetlights.

“Home?” Martin asked.

Jules nixed this with another bout of silence.

Martin tried again. “My apartment?”

Jules rested his temple against the window. “I’m hungry,” he said, and Martin took this as an offered kindness – Jules was as pathological about food as he was with money, and dining out married the worst of both factors, all of which Jules had laid out for him: The admittance of appetite; the act of eating; being observed eating; being at the mercy of someone else’s kitchen; being at the mercy of your companion’s meal; the exchange of cash; the indignity of being paid for; wanting to be paid for; worrying if you would be paid for.

Considering the arrangement in the parking garage and inside Paul’s apartment, Martin wondered if Jules had experienced a sudden epiphany about how silly that struggle and anxiety had been, and resolved to let it all go and become a much easier person to date. Ha-ha! Jules’ voice caroled in his brain: As if!

Martin had been chauffeured in Jules’ car often enough now to start finding the silence in his rental off-putting. He always forgot to put on the radio. If Jules had to take a sharp turn in his own, the cumulative plastic clatter of dozens upon dozens of CD jewel cases were enough to rain out whatever bridgeless, hookless, sonic cut-and-paste he was using to transmigrate his muffled emotions. Jules would tell him the names of artists and albums; Martin would try very hard to remember, until he figured out Jules was freest identifying the names of musicians toward which he felt the least.

I like this, Martin gently prompted, white lied, once when Jules had been stuck on the same album for a week and his curiosity would not let him resist. This was before the first of their several consummations and he’d felt unpleasantly disconnected from his romantic pursuit. Huh, Jules replied, underneath a barrage of repetitious guitar and martial drums and a singer’s shredded voice bellowing BLOWYOURBRAINS! OUUUUUUUT! BLOWYOURBRAINS! OUUUUU-HOOOU-OOOOOOOOUT!

And after they’d bonded a little more, and Martin told Jules how, historically, he was usually the one pursued by his marks, Jules cackled against his bare thigh and showed all the crooked and missing teeth on his bad left side, and thereon Martin’s education began. At least, his education regarding the song, which was about a pedophiliac serial killer – a religious cult – the biologically essential murder of male/female coitus – cannibalism – a playground snatching – a parent fucking their child.

Don’t worry about it, I like other stuff too, Jules said.

-

In the street outside the diner in Jules’ neighborhood, the only place cheap enough to hoodwink his neuroticism, he was stricken with an explosive coughing fit and didn’t fight when Martin helped him step over the curb. Inside, the sympathetic waitress Martin liked was nowhere to be seen, and they were gestured sharply to the booth near the washroom by a nasty young man not much older than Jules, whom Jules had affectionately dubbed their hate-crime server.

Jules hacked into his napkin and ducked his head under the sticky tabletop.

“Did Paul not even give you a glass of water?”

Jules resurfaced instantly. “Oh yeah, I asked for a glass of water,” he said. “And a cuddle, and a blankie.”

Martin wanted to touch his face. “Did he hit you?”

“You know he hit me.”

Martin did not like the grimy neighborhood, or the diner, or the ugly-minded server Jules found so funny, or the cruel tut-tut look on his lover’s casual face. Jules sucked down a glass of water, no ice, and Martin imagined him as a loner at the table, cruising the waiter as a gag and getting slammed straight to hell. He did know Paul hit. They’d discussed the hit explicitly, the two grown-ups, far away from their little pitcher.

“Fix your face,” Jules said. “The trauma is minimal.”

“Something’s bothering you.”

“God, sure. I felt like I was watching a movie I didn’t like, but not enough I could walk out of the theater.” Jules held the lukewarm glass to his jaw. “It was bothering me in the backseat of the car while you two went through you little pimp script, and it bothered me when I saw you two exchange the envelope that may or may not have had real money inside, and it bothered me walking up with Paul, and in the elevator, and in the foyer of Paul’s apartment – it was bothering me. First of all, where were you?”

Jules pointed.

“I was in the car,” Martin said, accustomed to these debriefs.

“Wrong answer.”

Martin immersed himself. “I was the pimp, selling you to a stranger.”

“Right answer,” Jules said, “to a question I wasn’t asking. Let me try again.”

But he didn’t try, right away. The server slammed menus onto the table with such force the table’s uneven legs barked against the floor; even Jules recoiled. Martin would have stood up, but Jules kicked him in the shin.

“It’s like, so funny that he’s getting worse,” Jules said, and stole Martin’s water cup.

“He wasn’t always that bad?”

“Singular guys like that don’t care about one faggot in their vicinity,” Jules explained. The smack mark on his face was, if anything, getting worse and he was beginning to squint. “When I got to go to high school, everybody could clock me, but nobody cared, because I wasn’t trying to fuck anyone.”

Any erotic fulfillment Martin might have gleaned from Jules’ delinquent teen escapades had been overrun by the discovery that he had fallen out of touch with what the kids were going through. Most of his dear friends were his age, many were older, and the young people around them had acted as mute, respectful ears to their compiled experiences. He’d been spoiled. Now he had Jules to observe and immerse himself within, who couldn’t have cared less about Martin’s coming of age through the seventies and eighties, was indifferent toward AIDS, was outright caustic toward the leather protocols that had given Martin so much direction in his youth, and, as far as Martin could tell, incapable of personal nostalgia, even when it related to the time periods of his most beloved, horrible music or his rancid gore films and video nasties. Martin had never met an artistic twenty-something so fundamentally bad at fantasy. Once, trying to rev up the evening early in the relationship, Martin had asked what Jules thought about when he masturbated. “You think I masturbate?” Jules, appalled, answered.

If he had taken that that little anecdote seriously, before his meeting with Paul, Martin realized, then this night would not have happened.

But Jules was traveling on his own track. “I think I’ve been really open with you,” he said, a sudden burst. “I think I’ve allowed a lot. I think we got really close in a really short period of time. What are you not getting from me that made tonight happen?”

“What do you think tonight was?” Martin’s desperate attempt to merge.

“A stupid, therapeutic roleplay scenario.” Jules’ voice was distorted by his hand palpating his cheek. Worse than angry, he sounded cheated.

“I didn’t mean it as a therapeutic.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jules said. “It was a transaction play. I’m not dumb. I know what you know about what I’ve done. You brought cash props. If you included it, you included it for a reason. Not only do I have to suck off some stranger and get slapped around, I have to ponder on healing themes and come to some kind of positive conclusion. We just start getting really, really intimate, and you impose this – this – this – distance. You weren’t even in the room! You were sitting in a fucking car!”

“I guess,” Martin tried, “I can’t convince you I did this solely because it was a scenario that gets me off? That your reaction beyond going through with it didn’t matter?”

“Get real,” Jules said. “Anything you do to me, you do for me.”

It was a pretty good line; Martin was touched. He reached out to grasp Jules’ free hand with both of his. He wished they were anywhere else but in public. “Oh, my buddy,” he said, absolutely nothing else in his head but goo. “Oh, kiddo.”

But Jules was capable of horrible sternness and didn’t react to this tenderness. “I can’t believe you weren’t even in the room with us. He had this framed print of Salvador Dali on the cover of TIME. And one of those stupid balls of fake leaves in a gold rim. I saw that from like, the floor, and was all if Marty was in here, I wouldn’t be noticing the shitty culture.”

“Why on earth didn’t you call it?” Martin gave his wrist a tug. Jules tugged back, listless.

“I don’t know,” he said. He thought about it. “I guess I know what a huge bitch I can be. I guess I wanted to give it a shot and see what I was missing.”

The physical reality was untenable – parties had arrived, been seated, waited, and served around the pair, and Jules, with the mute, desperate pain of a house pet, could not stop pawing at his face. Martin, hot and uneasy, rose to leave and Jules followed; but not as meekly as he looked. He said, in an overloud voice as they passed from inside to outside, and the male server swept behind their backs: “You know he’d fuck a man, right?” The jingle-bells strapped to the door were not so cheerful when they were pointedly slammed.

“It’s true,” Jules said, as Martin steered him over curb. “They’re only that mad when they know they’d fuck. If it came down to it.” And he was silent until they reached Martin’s sublet, where Martin distracted himself with ice in the freezer and Jules half-undressed on the edge of the bed before resting his head in hand, ruminating somewhere behind his empty face.

Martin believed his romantic habits were healthily balanced, and had been so for some time – he had not made a habit of linking up with very young men or particularly aggressive ones; but he’d collected a few throughout his late thirties and forties, just enough to know Jules was not the angriest, the most socially wronged, or the most antisocial among them – he was fastidious, virtually sober, socially perceptive, and possessed of a well-muscled work ethic bizarre to behold in a twenty-one year old – (Martin handed over the ice) but (Martin began to undress; in the long closet mirror, Jules’ forearm flexed) he was, or had been, or could remain, one of the most inaccessible.

While Martin had done his chasing and wooing, this had been exciting, sexually frustrating, pleasantly silly. He’d felt very young. He listened hard to Jules’ music in the car and wondered if the kid was sending him subconscious clues and messages through the song choices, a conceit he had to give up after he heard, beneath the instrumental clutter of one song, the voice of Mario Savio intoning, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels! Upon the levers! Upon all the apparatus and you’ve got to make it stop! And you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it -! In retrospect, he had not been prepared for Jules, so firmly guarded, to have swung open the door so sudden and wide. He’d thought, once inside that door, the places Jules would go were the places Martin could guide him.

Because Jules had given him the right, Martin seized him by the shoulders without asking and pressed him back against the mattress. The ice slapped against the floor, and Jules rubbed his wet face against the sheets with the indifference of someone who’d seen it coming. He said, “ok,” just a vocal reflex, then looked Martin flat in the face with big, black, take-it-or-leave-it eyes and Martin’s wrist, scraped lightly by Jules’ fingers, was shocked by his freezing hand. He knew at once two things: that the plaintive, whiny atmosphere souring his headspace, the one with words that went will you please lighten up, will you please let me understand you, will you please let me like you harkened back not to his hearty memories as a grown man fucking and relating with other grown men, but to his experiences with his daughter Claudia during her teenage years; and that he would not in a million years be getting hard tonight.

He pressed his face into Jules’ neck and demurred.

Jules was canny. “You can’t even make love to me,” he said, and wriggled towards his side of the bed. The first time Jules had uttered the phrase make love Martin almost fell on the floor laughing; instinct and a miraculously timed sneeze stopped his lungs (that’s romantic, Jules had responded mildly, and handed over the Kleenex)

Sometime during the night, which Martin only became aware of in the morning, Jules migrated backwards against his chest, and he could enjoy a few minutes of conscious rest against the rare treat of a pliant and silent Jules. But the evening before asserted itself. He’d pretty much fucked it up, he decided. He’d allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security. Jules had stroked his ego for three months straight and he’d lost his edge. Possibly he’d lost it long ago.  Jules wasn’t waking up and Martin tried hard to follow.

He lay with one arm lightly around Jules’ ribs and the light lengthened across the walls and he entertained all sorts of grim, unproductive thoughts. You weren’t even in the room! Why hadn’t he been in the room? Such a small, simple detail. Jules tended to sleep with at least one hand palm-upward on the pillow, his fingertips nestled together. He’d held something in his sleep and dropped it. Martin wanted to find it and give it back, no matter how trivial – a tennis ball, a wadded washcloth, the belt Martin used to beat him and choke him, a yarn skein, the car keys to the 99’  – but Jules was only careless with his body, not his belongings – so odious, so sick at heart that you can’t take part, you can’t even passively take part put your body upon the gears and upon the wheels and upon the levers – There’d been a big, clashing piano. He’d forgotten the band already.

He woke up again much later, Jules superheated against his torso, beginning to grumble and sniffle under the blanket. Martin’s phone made a racket in the kitchen, and he went to make it quiet. It was Paul.

“Congratulations,” said Paul, bright and clear, possibly up for hours. “That’s a hell of a lot of raw talent for you to deal with. I’m not sure why you leave the house.”

Martin was so instantly incensed, so suddenly and hideously jealous, he could not move or speak. Then, in a clap of the hand, the velocity halted, the emotions vanished, and the memory of their clarity and clearness left him empty and amused and sweet-tempered. He was just a stupid old guy, he decided, and moved into the bedroom. “Oh sure,” he replied.

Jules was upright and cross-legged, his long, bare, gorgeous back to him, his head enough in profile Martin could half-read the expression on his face. It was either suspicious or gloomy, and it was his business now.

“How’s your boy?” Paul asked.

“Oh, fine,” Martin said. Jules turned, confirmed he was on the phone, and gathered up the blanket around him, like he intended to leave and give Martin privacy. Instead, Martin engaged the speaker and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“Between you and me,” Paul’s degraded voice bloomed, “I think the hit was a little sloppy on my part. But you know what it’s like when you’ve only got one hit in you.”

“We’ve all been there,” Martin replied casually, tucking himself back in while Jules performed a series of double-takes and emphasized, by merely bulging his eyes, what the fuck Marty? “But too excessive for what I was thinking. It was pretty much a wash once you let him go.”

“Well, tell the kid I apologize. Tell him he’s welcome back anytime.”

Jules slithered irresistibly into Martin’s lap and hooked him around the neck with both elbows. He wore a toothy, lunatic smile and his eyes were bright and focused.

“I think, as an experiment, we might have found out all we needed.” Martin leaned back to accommodate.

“Sure, but what a shame. Come to think of it, he’s very sexy, but what was I picking up on – is he, uh, just the tiniest bit, kind of creepy?”

Jules was bluntly slapping Martin’s ribcage with the heel of his hand to express his mute hilarity. “Be thankful –” Martin fended off the hand. “Be thankful you don’t have to watch movies with him. Women fucking corpses. Women sawing off corpse penises. Women getting pregnant from corpses. You’re better off not dealing with it.”

Jules battered him with such intensity Martin had to seize him in his arms and crush him, not an easy task. Jules was smaller than him, but not small in general, he was rangy and a scrapper.

“I had a feeling he was not super immersed,” Paul continued. “He appeared unfocused. It was off-putting. I almost called it, but I decided it wasn’t worth it. I hope you agree.”

“Everything’s just fine.” Martin adjusted his hold as Jules settled down. “Just fine. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

They talked casual for a while – Paul recommended an up-and-coming workshop in their neck of the woods, run by an old acquaintance they shared (where did all these old acquaintances come from?) regarding headspace reinforcement, for the sake of Jules’ training – until Martin’s breeziness convinced him there couldn’t be anything else to discuss about yesterday’s tryst, except for the fact it had been nothing to write home about. Martin said good-bye, but Jules’ darting hand killed the call. With his heel, he launched the cell toward the foot of the bed.

“You dog.” He slithered all the way up Martin’s chest, something he tended to do when he was turned on. Martin preferred it to clawing. “That was one of your old friends!”

“The great thing about casual old friends,” Martin corrected, gathering Jules up and depositing him down once more, “Is what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Still,” Jules said, even while Martin tended to his oblivious body. “Aren’t we all responsible for each other? Wasn’t this his chance to grow? Are we just on earth to use each other? Ow -! Man, I can’t believe he called me creepy. That’s sooo –”

Without pain, or shock, or novelty, it sometimes took Jules ten or fifteen minutes to settle down into sex. He would not shut up, he would brace himself against Martin’s body like an inexperienced swimmer being dragged out into the lake, he would kick himself free from Martin’s snares, roll away, hold his head, then roll back. After finding a superficial calm, his body would rediscover the motions and his awkward, bony hands would caress Martin’s hardworking back. But Martin would feel one of his open eyes against his cheek and know he was staring blindly at the ceiling, maybe thinking what the hell is going on?

Jules once said to him, only once, and casually, “too bad you can’t just beat the shit out of me all the time,” and Martin knew better than to vocally disagree. He didn’t know how to tell Jules that after the great opening of the door, the permission to start fucks while the other was asleep, the granted across-the-board freedom to apply maintenance discipline, the instructions to continue after a no, no, stop, that sometimes after experiencing all these gifts, you would not want them. You could take them or leave them. You could leave them behind as decisively as you forced yourself to forget the time your creepy, youthful boyfriend un-blinked up at you as you both made love; and you had to forget, because you saw that inexplicable, parentified expression on his childless face, the one that said, please lighten up, please let me like you, please let me understand you – twenty-one years old! So who had he learned it from?

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Song for my Soulmate, pt 3

Part 1, Part 2 I know, I know... it’s been 84 years... I found this in my google docs...

XXX

Of all the weird things her job had offered, a Disney film festival might have been the strangest. The Big Man in the penthouse had decided it was a thing though, as a company social. It was hard to be social when you were concentrating on a movie, she’d thought when the event was announced, not realizing at the time that he did nothing by halves. 

When she’d headed down to the theatre on the third floor, the place was decorated up like it was an actual movie premier, complete with red carpet. There was a moment of intense awkwardness when she realized that her messy bun and yoga pants weren’t really red carpet attire. Looking around, she saw her fellow coworkers dressed to the nines, and turned to flee back to her apartment and get changed. Without looking when the elevator opened she stepped in and slammed into someone very solid. She looked up, an apology on her lips. But never managed to utter it. It was Captain America. She’d walked into Captain America. His hand steadied her and she gaped stupidly. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly and she took in the broad shoulders and narrow waist with some serious thirst. And then grew more mortified - what if he noticed?

“Ma’am, are you okay?” He asked. She nodded, and backed into the elevator, burning with embarrassment.

“Yeah,” she finally managed. “Sorry.”

The elevator doors closed and she escaped back to her place to get changed before heading back down to walk the red carpet into what might have been the most ridiculous staff function she’d ever attended.

XxX

Steve relaxed in his seat with a box of popcorn and a cola. He was near the back third of the theatre and as close to centre as he could manage. It was the perfect spot to watch a movie. Tony had schemed up the damn film festival when he’d admitted he hadn’t seen most modern Disney movies. He’d caught up on a few, of course, but in the grand scheme of things, cartoons hadn’t been of peak importance. Tony disagreed, and said life couldn’t continue until Steve had seen Mulan and Beauty and the Beast at the very least. 

Just as the film was opening, a pretty woman he thought might have been the one who’d walked into him slipped into the seat in front of him. Her hair was down now, a riot of messy curls that reached the middle of her back, and she wore a little black dress that was elegant in its simplicity. Compared to the faded yoga pants she’d been in when she’d darted onto the elevator, she almost looked like a different woman. It was the apologetic dip of her head to the people sitting beside her that gave her away.

The movies were enjoyable, and Steve appreciated Tony’s insistence that he see them. He found himself humming the music from Mulan as he headed up to his suite. It wasn’t until he was in the quiet of his bedroom, pulling on his pajamas that he realized the singing in his head wasn’t that of the actors in the movies. 

My girl will think I have no faults That I'm a major find How 'bout a girl who's got a brain Who always speaks her mind? My manly ways and turn of Phrase are sure to thrill her He thinks he's such a lady killer

The soft, feminine voice in his head was definitely not that of the rough soldiers in the movie. He grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial for Tony.

“She was at the movie tonight, Tony,” he said, instead of a greeting.

“How can you be sure?” Tony replied.

“I can hear her singing one of the songs from Mulan in my head.” Steve paused, listening as she started singing a different song from the movie in his mind. “And she doesn’t know all the words.”

“She doesn’t?” Tony laughed.

“Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns. Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons? You're the saddest something I don’t know, something else before we're through, Mister, I'll make a man out of you. Do those lyrics sound right?” Steve asked. Tony started to cackle.

“I’ll get JARVIS to scan the theatre footage from tonight, and isolate all the women who are unattached. We can start working through the list and find your girl in the morning,” Tony decided.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Steve asked.

“Are you kidding? As much as I give you a hard time, you’re a pretty great catch, Spangles,” Tony laughed again. “Meet me in the morning in my lab.”