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ghostbeam · 2 years

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swore i could feel you through the walls | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is an idea that has been bouncing around my head for like. Literal years ajsjsjsjs It’s always kind of been more of a horror idea and then I fanficified it and now it’s this! This was kind of a process and I rewrote and replanned and went over this over and over again but I think it is at a place that I am mildly happy with. It’s a completely ridiculous idea and I’m honestly a little insecure about it but fuck it!! Thanks for reading hope u enjoy<3 (title from Chinese satellite by Phoebe bridgers) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, yandere!dabi, stalking, Dabi hides in readers house without her knowledge, some paranoia, psychological abuse, slight yandere!reader, mentions of somnophillia but no actual instances of it, violence, non-consensual voyeurism (Dabi watches reader masturbate), unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, marking, biting (shoulder, neck), painplay, one mention of carving names into skin with no instance of it, mentions of blood (reader bites dabi’s neck and draws blood), use of good girl, mutual obsession

Words: 9.3k

He can’t breathe.

Dabi runs from the low-ranked hero, surprisingly fast on his tail as the distance between the two becomes smaller and smaller. With his lungs burning, his skin irritated from quirk use, and the lack of help from his peers, Dabi realizes that he needs to find a way to lose the ice quirk user that is quickly gaining on him.

Turning down a narrow alleyway, he’s disappointed to find that it’s a dead end. He pauses to catch his breath, keeping himself tucked tightly against the shadowy wall. Dabi surveys his surroundings, finding nothing but garbage before he looks up. He’s against an apartment building, he realizes, looking at the lights in the windows above him.

All windows are lit except one.

Dabi doesn’t have the time to wonder about the owner, shaking his head and forcing himself up the fire escape, preparing himself to use his quirk if it comes down to it. He breaks the lock on the darkened window and shuffles inside. He falls over a stack of books that sits underneath the window, freezing on the floor as he listens for any movement throughout the walls. When he hears nothing, he stands from the floor and closes the window, creeping down the hall in search of the other rooms. There’s one bathroom and a bedroom with no one inside, and relief rushes over Dabi as he feels his shoulders relax.

Assuming you won’t be home for a while, Dabi makes his way back to the main room, turns the light on, and heads for the kitchen. He looks through your fridge for something to eat, pulling out a Tupperware of leftovers that he heats in the microwave. As he waits for the seconds to pass, he looks around the apartment.

It sets in, then, how lived in the place is, shelves full of books, records and DVDs, art and photos against the walls, leaving almost no space for the blankness underneath. The kitchen is pink, he realizes, looking around and eyeing the various knickknacks shaped like mushrooms or kittens, unique magnets hang a mess of papers on the fridge beside post-it notes of reminders.

He wants to hate it. It’s a complete mess, chaotic even, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s intrigued now. He ignores the beeping of the microwave and steps away from the kitchen, observing the various pictures on the walls. It’s not difficult to find the owner of the apartment, the face showing up in a multitude of snapshots. Your face.

As he looks at the walls, he finds himself stuck on you, the curve of your jaw, your lips, your eyes. You make his heart beat in his chest, excitement bubbling at the realization that he is standing in your home, in your space, right in the middle of your entire life.

You’re beautiful. He feels his stomach drop.

The more he explores, the more he seems to like you. The Sargent print on your wall, the Rilke in your bookshelf, the numerous albums in your collection that he knows nothing about. He flips through the pages of your books, smiling at your annotations, the ink between the pages, and the tiny star you draw next to your favorite passages. He runs his fingers across the words over and over again, committing them to memory, the need to love the things you love burning in his chest.

It’s not enough, he realizes, looking through just this room. He stalks down the hallway and turns the light to your bedroom on. And oh, how content he feels in here, a room clearly much more personal than the one out there. It’s a bit of a mess, with clothes on the floor and the bed like you’d changed out of many different outfits before leaving. The full-length mirror against your wall is peppered with postcards and pictures from magazines and those same post-it notes: call mom, pay the phone bill, need more cotton pads. So, you’re forgetful. Dabi smiles at the knowledge.

There are string lights of stars hanging on your ceiling and lamps in the shape of flowers on your bedside table. Your bed is unmade and you have sheets with scatters of constellations on them. Your affinity for stars makes him smile, one more thing he’s found in common with you.

It shocks him how interested he is in you, in all of the things that make up your little life. But the more he explores, the more he’s sure you’re made for him.

He looks through your closet, through your dresser, stuck rummaging through your underwear drawer. Every set of lingerie you have is some variation of blue, and Dabi can’t help but feel as though it’s for him. It’s all for him, your things, you. Fate, or the universe, or luck itself is on his side. He pockets a pair of panties that closely resembles his eyes before turning to your desk. More post-it notes are stuck to the surface, and there’s a notebook that he reaches for before your wall catches his eye. There are more photos, haphazardly taped up and not at all as organized as your living room, but he can tell they’re important to you: family photos, people he recognizes from films, rock singers, and—him.

Dabi is on your wall.

The photo is one that went viral a couple of months back when he got into an altercation with one of the top ten heroes. He remembers the fight well because of how large his flames grew, and the damage that he did to the surrounding area, to the people, to the hero he was up against. He’s stood with his arms out in front of him, neon flames emanating from his palms as the moment in battle is frozen in time forever on your wall. You printed it out on photo paper and everything. He plucks it from its spot and turns it over. Your handwriting with his name and a heart is scrawled on the blank space. He runs a thumb over the heart, feeling his face warm up.

This isn't a mistake. You know who he is, and you’re a fan, not just of the photo itself, but of him. He wonders if you’re one of those weirdos he’s seen online with accounts dedicated to him, one of the anonymous boxes that engage in discussions about his quirk and identity, losers grasping at any detail they can that might bring them closer to the truth, or just to him in general.

But the more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets, thinking about you saving blurry pictures of his fights to your phone, watching youtube videos of him with shitty quality, and tweeting about him with stupid little emojis. He wonders if you dream of him, if you think of him while touching yourself, or if you fantasize about silly things like being a villain’s girlfriend. He likes thinking of you like this, just as obsessed with him as he’s becoming with you.

Dabi doesn’t care what it’s called: divine intervention, cosmic love, soulmates. All are true; none capture how this feels.

Your laptop is password protected and his name doesn’t work when he tries, so he moves on from your bedroom. Entering your bathroom, he looks through your medicine cabinet, analyzing your meds and products as he searches for every bit of information he can. He looks at the lipstick that sits on the counter and debates putting it on in the form of an indirect kiss but decides to pocket it instead. He sprays each and every one of your perfumes, deciding which is his favorite, and throwing the one he dislikes out the window he came through, watching it shatter against the cement.

He pulls back the shower curtain and begins to strip, turning the water on and letting the heat hit his worn-out body. He hasn’t felt water pressure this good in years. He uses your shampoo, your conditioner, your rose-scented soap, even though it’s sure to irritate his scars. He uses everything he can to be close to you, to smell like you, to have any piece of you even though you’re not here.

When he’s done, he lays in your bed, against the sheets that you occupy every night except tonight, and stares up at the string lights above him. He picks up the stuffed bear with angel wings that sits against one of your pillows, caressing the ears between two fingers. He thinks about you, about the things he doesn’t know, details you don’t have plastered to your walls or hidden between pages of poetry books. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, how you’d look undone beneath him.

He can finally breathe.

…

The keys to your apartment chime against your door as you move to unlock it, hoards of keychains rattling against each other as you push the heavy door open. It slams shut behind you and you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter, hauling your suitcase behind you. The familiar pang of loneliness hits you immediately as you look out over your crowded apartment.

“I’m home.” You mutter softly, running your fingers over the plush fabric of your couch.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself with books and posters and comfortable shag carpets, you still feel the same each time you come home to emptiness.

You roll your suitcase to your bedroom, deciding that unpacking is a job for the you of the future while the you of the present deserves to sink into the couch and watch tv. Your unmade bed catches your eye and you wonder if you’d forgotten to tidy up before you left to visit your mother. You don’t dwell on it, dragging your tired body to your couch and turning on your television. You flip through multiple channels before a name on the news catches your attention: Dabi.

Your obsession with the cremation villain seemingly happened overnight. The League of Villains had intrigued you due to their mission to dismantle hero society, a cause that resonated with you as a quirkless citizen. When Dabi joined the group, you were immediately interested in the aloof and mysterious fire quirk-user. You never stood a chance. You spent hours on message boards, gathering any and all information on the group as you could in order to feel closer to him. Your adoration never made much sense to those you talked to online with the lack of information available about the man. But as the League grew in popularity, details about Dabi became far more accessible to the general public. His true identity remained a mystery but two things you were certain of: his quirk came with a drawback in the form of his own body and fire got him excited.

And now, the news anchor on your television was relaying the news that he had been seen around your neighborhood and still hadn’t been found. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest, excitement bubbling up as you think about the prospect of catching a glimpse of him in real life. Realistically, you know there’s no way that Dabi stuck around here, understanding the risks of staying in one place for too long as a wanted criminal, but the thought makes your stomach flip. You lean back against your couch, clutching the remote in one hand and letting out an excited giggle. For a moment, you’re grateful for the emptiness of your apartment, your embarrassing display of excitement only witnessed by you and you alone.

You spend a few hours on LOV fan accounts and forums, hoping to find out any more details about the news, but most people online say it’s not worth looking into. Much like you thought, Dabi was most likely far away from your place by now.

Finding nothing, you stand up from your couch, stretching your arms above your head as you make your way to your bathroom. You turn on the shower and allow it to heat up as you find something to sleep in. When you return, you strip and step into the shower. Your mind wanders toward thoughts of Dabi as you stand underneath the water. You’re disappointed. The one weekend you leave town, the love of your life visits your building. The endless push and pull is frustrating.

It’s something that’s happened to you time and time again, coming across the aftermath of an attack, or arriving somewhere that Dabi was rumored to have been seen. You keep missing him by mere seconds, and this is no different, though you aren’t exactly sure what you would do if you ever got a chance.

After finishing up, you step out of the shower, take a towel from the hook on the wall and dry yourself off. You change into your clothes and reach towards your medicine cabinet before pausing. Drawn in the steam on the mirror is a heart. You stare at it, examining it closely. Had you drawn on the mirror the last time you showered? When was the last time you cleaned the mirror? You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a loud bang coming from your living room.

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound, spotting the door to your hallway closet slamming shut. You freeze where you stand at the end of the hallway, weighing your options before deciding you don’t have much time to think about it. Bolting to your kitchen, you pick up a large knife from its block, before carefully making your way back to your closet. With the knife in one hand, you turn the knob to the door, pulling it open in a hurry and holding the blade in front of you. You’re met with nothing but your own things, coats, and dresses that you never wear, a closet full of items left unused. Even when you push through the racks of clothes, you find nothing.

Relief washes over you at the knowledge that you are in fact here alone. You lower the knife, allowing yourself to breathe as you calm down. You stare down at the weapon in your hand, scoffing.

“What was I going to do with this?” You speak out loud. Even if somebody was in your home, could you really defend yourself? You’re quirkless, you aren’t trained in any sort of self-defense, and you’re not even sure you’d have the guts to actually stab someone. You shake your head, walking to your kitchen to put it back.

You retreat to your bedroom, pulling back the covers of your unmade bed, clutching your bear in one arm, and staring up at the ceiling.

Inside of your hallway closet, up against the wall, Dabi’s shoulders relax. He imagines you with your knife outside of the door, the scared expression on your face, one he could only see from in between your coat and the wall. Your eyebrows pinched up and your eyes wide, your bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. He takes pride in being the reason for that look. He pulls away from the wall, carefully sliding out of the closet and shutting the door behind him. He looks down the hallway, toward the door that you’ve left ajar. He wants to sneak in, watch your chest rise and fall, caress your cheek, and feel you lean into his touch, but he knows you're more than likely awake, still shaken up from his antics.

He’ll be back tomorrow, anyway.

…

The encounters continue into the rest of the week. Doors creak open and things fall from shelves. You hear noises late into the night and find more hearts left on reflective surfaces, your mirrors, your television, your windows.

With no sign of another living thing inside of your home with you, the only explanation you have left to give yourself is something paranormal, even if you aren’t sure of it yourself.

And besides, you kind of like the idea of living with a ghost. This one seems to be in love with you.

On top of all of the hearts, your ghost has knocked off books of love poems from your bookshelves, blasted Linger by The Cranberries from your speakers, and flipped through television channels to land on one playing In the Mood for Love. And when you fall asleep at night, just as you can feel yourself crossing the boundary between sleep and awake, you swear you can feel your bed dip beside you.

You don’t hate it, and you aren’t scared, and sometimes it is comforting to know that you aren’t as alone as you always believed you would be.

Dabi watches you most days. He watches you nap on your couch and laugh at your cell phone. He watches you parade around your home in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. He watches you concentrate on the novels you like to read, where a crease forms between your eyebrows as your eyes fly across the page. He watches you talk to yourself about anything and everything, about work, about television shows you enjoy, about him.

He likes that you’re a complete mess in the morning, that you can barely keep yourself upright, let alone keep your eyes open while you brush your teeth. He likes that you spray the perfume he decided was his favorite all that time ago before you leave for the day. He likes that you sometimes switch between multiple different albums before settling on the one you like. He likes to watch you dance to them. He likes that he’s never heard of them before. He likes you.

You’re a natural result of loneliness, much like he is. But where you filled your void with material things, stuff, Dabi left his empty and allowed it to grow. He would have thought it was foolish, the idea of filling that hole in him with anything other than anger and hurt, thoughts of revenge. Had he not fallen for you, maybe he would have hated you. The two had always felt so similar.

You’re happy with him here, he notices, much happier than you had been that first night. You talk to him, your ghost. You ask him about the shows you watch, his opinion on your favorite albums, what shoes to wear to work. He’s a part of your life through knocks on the walls and highlighted lines in between the pages of your books and soft touches in the middle of the night.

Dabi holds it all close to his Molotov heart and hopes that the ruin is worth it.

…

You fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your busy day, one spent without your ghost. Dabi sneaks in late, caught up with league business for the past couple of days, and he misses you.

He stares at your sleeping form against the night sky that is your sheets. He feels himself relax at the sight of you, realizing just how much it affects him to be away from you for too long. He takes his boots off at your bedroom door and walks in long strides toward you. He cups your cheek in one hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone, smiling at how you subconsciously lean into his touch.

Dabi moves to the other side of your bed, sliding in beside you. He does nothing but stare at the back of your head for a few minutes, gathering the courage to reach out and touch. He wants to hold you. He wants to do more than just lay beside you and listen to you breathe.

He runs a hand up your arm, dragging his fingers against your skin. He wraps an arm around your midsection and pulls flush against his chest, feeling your body relax in his hold. He sneaks a hand up your sleep shirt and thumbs over the soft flesh of your stomach. Your hair smells like lavender shampoo, and it makes him nostalgic for that first night.

A sudden sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he breathes you in, the guilt of barging into your life and bothering you to the point of delusion makes Dabi feel ill. You’re important to him now in a much deeper way than you were at the beginning. He doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not like this.

“Dabi…” Your voice is soft, starry with sleep. He freezes against you. Your voice comes again, “Dabi.”

“It’s me, baby.” He whispers against your ear, unsure of just how awake you are.

“You’re so warm…Dabi…” You trail off, dragging the last syllable of his name. Your voice is so soft, breathy as you talk through sleep. He can feel his pants tighten at the sound from your lips. Fuck. He can’t stay here, not when you sound so sweet.

He could fuck you. He wants to. He’s not even sure you’d wake up. He’d pull pretty little moans from your throat, slotting himself between your thighs and sliding into you. You’d already be wet for him, and he’d watch your hands ball into little fists in your sleep. You’d chant his name like a prayer. He’d come deep inside of you and leave you to wake up the next morning with the evidence between your legs.

But he does not fuck you. He places a kiss to the side of your neck and pulls away from you despite the whine you let out as he detaches his body from yours. He leaves with every intention of never coming back. His ruin might be worth it, but yours isn’t.

…

The lack of paranormal activity in your home is alarming, which is something you never thought you’d ever think about. Your ghost has been gone for weeks, and you’re afraid that you may have made it all up in your head.

This possibility is one you dread, mainly because it has everything to do with your own sanity. If you had been imagining each event, drawing hearts in your mirrors, underlining passages in your books, and forgetting about it, you know that something has gone completely wrong. And you can’t blame it on anything outside of yourself.

The idea that you’ve been pushed this far, that your own loneliness has you creating imaginary instances of a haunting, terrifies you. What terrifies you more is that you miss him and that you’re alone again.

But you can’t think about it, or you know you’ll go insane, more so than you possibly already are. So you bury yourself in fuzzy blankets, and you play sad albums on your speaker, and you scroll through the same forums that comfort you in times like these.

You know it’s pathetic, pining for someone who doesn’t know you exist, someone completely and wholly evil for all you know. A man you aren’t even sure has a heart.

You think yours may be enough for the both of you, though.

Darkness falls over your living room in what feels like a matter of minutes, though you know it’s been hours since you first picked up your phone. Your record player has been playing the same scratchy hum that signifies the end of one side of an album. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to one of your living room windows, the one with the drawn heart in the bottom corner that you can’t bring yourself to clean off. You let your phone fall to your chest as you stare up at your ceiling and sigh.

Your heart is a greedy, hungry thing and your mind is a tool to feed it. Through daydreams and delusion, through want, want, want. You can hide from the isolation for a while, but the pain always catches up. And tonight it hurts.

You fall onto your bed with a thud, and your phone drops beside you. There’s a dull ache underneath your skin, one all too familiar and unwanted by you. Why had he left you? His absence haunts you more than his presence ever did.

Your phone buzzes against your sheets, a notification from one of the discussion sites you frequent lights up the screen, the subject being Dabi and the recent sightings in the city. The ache subsides.

It’s a video of him, maybe the clearest one you’ve ever seen. He’s alone, and he’s talking to someone, or a bunch of someones, other villains. You can’t make out the words, but you can tell they’re not pretty by the way the men start to close in on him. The smile that crosses Dabi’s face is razor sharp, deadly, reaching up to his crazed eyes. You gasp when he knocks his head against one of the men’s noses. Another one punches him square in the jaw for it, and he stumbles back, touching a finger to the seam in his face. Dabi isn’t a fighter, not with his fists at least, and you’re wondering why he’s letting them get away with this. He goes to punch one of them but misses, and while he’s distracted by his own move, one of the men sends a kick to his stomach. You hear him groan before laughing, his head hanging low as he clutches the place he was hit.

You feel hot suddenly, touching your face with your palm. You watch Dabi raise his head slowly, his laugh low and maniacal and unbelievably sexy. He licks the corner of his mouth before his hands spark with blue flames. He hurls his fire toward the men without a second thought, and that’s when the video ends. You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding against your chest. You squeeze your thighs together as you restart the video.

It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, watching him grin at these men, holding their life in his hands. You like watching him do more than just wield his quirk, watching his head crack against the man’s nose, watching his fist fly through the air. Something has to be wrong with you, you’re sure of it, but you can’t focus on anything but Dabi and his hands. The way that they’d feel against your skin, how they’d feel in your mouth, how they’d feel pressing your hips into your mattress. You slide your hand down your body and underneath the band of your sleep shorts. You’re already wet.

Dabi climbs through your window, the one branded with his fingerprinted heart, the window that allowed him into your life all those weeks ago. Your lights are off, and he can’t see your figure asleep on the couch in the darkness, so you must be asleep.

He promised himself he wouldn’t come back, promised you he wouldn’t. But it hurts without you, and the ache grows, the wanting. The fucking wanting.

He tried to bury it like he does everything else, tried to burn it to ash, drink it to death, beat it out of him. He’d let those guys get in a couple of good punches tonight just to feel something. Nothing works.

But you do.

He takes careful steps down the hallway when he hears your voice. He freezes. You’re moaning. He feels his breath catch in his chest. Of all of the days spent watching you, Dabi has never seen you like this. Desperate, aching, calling his name.

He watches you through your cracked door, spread out on your bed with your phone clutched tightly in one hand. You’re no longer watching whatever was on your screen, but you’ve left it playing as you arch against your bed.

“Dabi…” You mewl. He has to grab the door frame to keep himself steady at the sound. “W-want it.”

Fuck. How could he possibly leave you now? He palms himself through his jeans, watching you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. He’s so hard that he might pass out. The puffs of air that fall from your lips as your legs shake have him holding back a groan. It isn’t until your noises become quiet that he realizes just what you’re watching.

The sound of his own laugh echoes through the speaker on your phone, and he’s surprised by the pained moan that falls from your lips at the sound.

It’s him. You’re watching him. Dabi holds back a groan. He’s careful to free himself from his pants without a sound, not that you would notice. You’re far too gone to acknowledge him right now. He could probably let out the noises that beg to be free of his throat, but he doesn’t risk it. He can’t do anything that could stop him from watching you come for him.

Your hand is obstructed by your sleep shorts, and the same can be said for the hand that has now discarded your phone onto the pillow beside your head and reached underneath your shirt to pinch one of your pert nipples. You’re close now, and so is he, barely able to keep his breathing steady as he strokes his hand against his cock.

He’d give anything to barge in now, pull you toward the edge of the bed, and sink into you without a care in the world. He wants to feel you tight around him, wants to kiss your neck and bite your skin and leave traces of himself everywhere. He wants to show you that you’re his, confirm what you’ve always known.

But instead he watches you writhe against your bed with his name falling from your lips. “Dabi–fuck! Gonna–”

You come with a loud cry, hips twitching a way that has Dabi cursing under his breath. He spills into his hand immediately after, reaching for your wall to hold himself up as he tries to keep quiet. But when his hand meets the hard surface of the wall, it collapses out from underneath, realization dawning on him that he’s pushed your bedroom door shut with a harsh slam.

At the sound of your door, you jolt up from your bed, the ecstasy of your orgasm quickly wearing off as you freeze. You listen for any other noises, and when you hear nothing, you slowly creep from your bed. Looking around your bedroom for some kind of weapon to protect yourself, you feel yourself growing panicked when you realize you have nothing. You tiptoe to your bedroom door, pushing your ear against the surface to listen to any sign of life on the other side. You hear nothing.

With your heart beating out of your chest, you slowly pull the door open, sticking your head out and looking down your dark hallway. There’s nobody there, and you wonder if this was yet another paranormal encounter after weeks of nothing.

A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that there’s nothing paranormal at all about your experiences.

You walk back to your bed in a daze, tucking yourself back under the covers and staring out your bedroom window. The video of Dabi continues to play on your phone, and you make no move to shut it off. You fall asleep to the sound, his crazed laughter somehow comforting to you in this moment.

The sinking feeling doesn’t leave you the next morning, and there’s no sign of another human in your apartment as you check all of your windows and doors. It all makes you feel uneasy, the creeping suspicion that it’s all in your head. You’re completely alone. You have no one to confide in, and even if you did, you’re sure they’d think you're insane or an idiot for allowing any of it to go on for so long without question.

You have no clue what to do or where to start, but you want whatever it is, ghost or not, gone.

…

The idea is ridiculous. You know that.

You know, standing in your living room with the ouija board you’ve just purchased sitting on your coffee table, that you are being completely ridiculous.

“If this works, then great. Then ghosts are real.” You speak aloud to nothing. “Then I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”

Your eyes flitter to the bottle of raspberry wine you bought on your way home, something you know is sweet and easy to drink quickly. You’ll finish the bottle in no time. You reach for it, pouring a good amount into your glass and taking a large gulp. You hold the glass to your chest, breathing in and shivering at the cool sensation against your skin. The board sits on the table, and you let out a chuckle of disbelief.

Dabi stares at you from the darkness of your hallway. He’s been in your home since before you arrived with your children’s game and your sugary wine. You’ve been on edge for days, and Dabi knows he has everything to do with it. Still, he watches you quietly, taking in the last moments of invisibility before he has to tell you.

You’re still staring at the board. You take another gulp of your wine and look out of the window that he climbed through. The strap of your spaghetti strap tank top is falling down. He thinks of the painting that hangs on your wall. You’re Sargent’s Madame X. He’s going to ruin your life.

“They sell those things in toy stores, you know.” He finally speaks. It all happens in slow motion: the quick jolt of your shoulders in surprise at the sound, your glass falling to the floor and shattering against your carpet, the scream that falls from your lips.

Then suddenly, you’re looking at him, and he is looking at you, and your hand is frozen in mid-air like the glass is still in your hand. He looks down at the mess, “Shame. That ugly carpet was kind of growing on me.”

“Dabi…” Realization dawns on your face as you say his name. He looks up at you again, before turning his attention back to the mess on your carpet. He holds an arm out and beckons you toward him.

“C’mere. You’ll cut yourself.” He tells you. You don’t move. He watches your chest rise and fall, frozen where you stand, unable to think about anything other than getting away. He watches your eyes flicker to your front door.

It happens quickly, nothing like before, climbing over your couch and rushing as fast as you can toward your escape. He almost loses you, tripping over his feet as he reaches for you. You barely touch the handle before his arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip. You’re both panting, his breath hot against your ear.

“What? You aren’t excited to see me?” He questions. It’s not like he expected you to accept him with open arms, but he didn’t think you’d run from him.

“It was you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. How are you meant to feel about any of this? It’s what you wanted, right? All the times you missed each other, all those days spent disappointed that you weren’t just a little earlier or a little later. And here he is, in your home, with you, with his arms wrapped around you, no less. And you want to run? What bothers you the most is that you aren’t as scared as you should be.

“Your ghost?” He questions with humor in his words. You feel his grip tighten around you before he speaks again. “Are you disappointed?”

His voice is much softer than he intended it to be, nervousness finding its way through the mask of carelessness he so carefully hides behind. It calms your nerves, the idea that he’s just as unsure of this as you are.

“I’m scared.” You admit.

“Of me?”

“I don’t know yet.” You say. He loosens his grip, arms falling to his sides as he lets you go. You step away quickly, turning to look at him while keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you.

“I’m not–I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He speaks, holding his hands up. “I would never–”

“Why?” Looking at him, standing in your kitchen, his hands up in surrender, his eyes pleading, Dabi is just a man. You know this, you’ve always known this. It’s why your obsession with him is as strong as it is because, underneath all of the flames, he’s alone just like you are.

“Because you’re mine.” He sighs because he knows he must sound insane, and his answer doesn’t seem to soothe the worried look on your face. “And you know it. You do, because I’m on your fucking walls, and you stalk me like a little weirdo on your phone. You–you’re made for me.”

“Made for you?” You ask incredulously as if this isn’t the exact moment you’ve been fantasizing about since the first time you ever laid eyes on the flame user.

“Look, I didn’t think any of it was real, none of that soulmate shit people make up so that they have something to hold onto. But, fuck, I had never felt the way I did when I climbed through your window that night.” He speaks frantically like he’s trying to convince you, prove to you that what he’s saying is the truth. “You saved me, and you don’t even know it.”

You soften, “I saved you?”

“None of this would've happened if things had gone a little differently that night. I wouldn’t know you, and you could go back to your normal life with your pictures and your books and your forums, but it didn’t so I’m here. And isn’t that something?”

“I’m just…confused.” You explain. “You’re you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered by now how embarrassingly obsessed with you I am–”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why?” He questions, leaning forward. “Does it get you all hot and bothered like that night with the video of me getting my ass kicked? That was cause of you, by the way.”

“You have to understand how fucked this is. You get that, right?” You aren’t afraid anymore. You’re angry, a little hurt, but most of all excited. Made for him. He’s probably right.

“Yeah?” He questions, taking another step. You do back away, but he continues to follow you. “I think you like it. I think your life was so goddamn boring before me, so lonely. My little tricks made you so happy, baby.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, because he’s right, and you hate it. His hand comes up to hold your jaw with one hand, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly.

“C’mon…” He tuts, leaning down to your height, “You used to be so sweet for me, snuggling up to me while you slept. You can’t hide from me. I know everything about you. And those feelings that you have for me don’t change in a matter of minutes just because I did something fucked up. I’m a villain, sweetheart, and you know it.”

“So what?” You ask. “You’re in love with me or something?”

You want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s more than obsession, more than the excitement of scaring you.

“It’s not obvious?” He asks, releasing your jaw from his tight grip and running his thumb against your cheek to soothe you. “You ruin me.”

You shake your head, “Say it.”

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do.

It shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does. With him pushing your hips into your kitchen counter, his lips so soft against yours, you forget all of it. None of it matters to you, anyways. Maybe it’s the worst way for any of this to happen. Maybe it’s the only way.

He pulls away, watching your eyes flutter open, your lips swollen from his kiss. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and you’re touching his face without a hint of disgust. You’ve always been his. He surges forward, catching you off guard and pulling you into another kiss, this one much more hurried and desperate. You gasp when he presses into you, the growing bulge in his jeans hard against your thigh. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, earning a choked whine from your lips. You struggle to keep up with him, with his hands everywhere. You’re overwhelmed.

“Dabi, wait.” You speak for the split second that he pulls away. He shakes his head, kissing down your jaw as you try to catch your breath.

“Can’t.” He speaks in between kisses. “You’re–I need you. Please, please, I’m–”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him away from your neck to look at you. “Dabi. Hey.”

“Hi.” He speaks, unable to resist the urge to press his lips to yours in a quick peck before pulling away again. It makes you smile, though, so he does it one more time. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me?”

“I think there is something very, very wrong with me.” You say because you have to acknowledge it, at the very least. You want him so bad it burns.

“Yeah, me too.” He kisses you again. “Made for me, remember?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “maybe I am.”

“You are.” He says against your lips. “You are, you are, you are.”

You’re in your bedroom before you have any time to think about it, your back against your sheets as Dabi hovers over you. He pauses, his frantic movements from moments ago now at a standstill as he stares down at you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You speak without hesitance.

“Yeah?” He slots his hips in between yours, running a hand up the side of one of your thighs as you make room for him. “All mine, huh? Gonna let me keep you?”

“Uh huh.” You nod. “You can keep me.”

“Good.” He drags his lips down the column of your neck. “My girl’s so good for me, yeah?”

You’re unable to answer, though you don’t know if you’re supposed to. His hands move from your hips to your backside, grinding you against his length. You gasp, grasping his shoulders for stability as he sucks on your neck.

“Gotta mark you up, baby.” He speaks against your skin. He sucks your skin harshly, biting and nipping different areas of your neck. It’s a sensation you’ve never experienced, all your senses heightened at the knowledge that it’s him who’s touching you. “Show them who you belong to, show them you’re mine.”

“Please!” You whine, arching your back into him as he bites down, hard, on the juncture of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin, kissing over the bite. He begins to lower himself down your body, kissing down the valley of your breasts over your top. He pushes your shirt up as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach.

“Maybe I’ll carve my name right here, yeah?” He questions, lips against your hip. “You can do the same to me.”

When his eyes flicker up to yours, you feel your breath catch in your throat. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, every silly little fantasy you’ve ever had come true. “You’d want that? My name?”

“Fuck, of course, I would.” He groans, pushing himself back up to eye level with you. His hands rest on the mattress on each side of your head, his eyes searching your face. “Want you all over me. I want you forever.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to you in a bruising kiss. Pushing at his chest, you hook your leg around his waist to switch positions, straddling his lap as your tongue swirls in his mouth. You pull away to look at him, his eyes blown wide with need. He’s so fucking beautiful. You want him forever, too.

You rise to a sitting position, Dabi’s hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as you stare down at him. You push his shirt up and he pulls it over his head in seconds. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling his scars and the staples that hold him together under your fingertips.

“I think I wanna mark you too.” You speak, leaning down to kiss him again. “Want you to be mine.”

“I am yours.” He speaks without hesitation. He sucks in a harsh breath when your lips meet the unscarred skin of the left side of his chest. You place soft kisses there before biting down. He cries out, bucking his hips up into yours. “I’ll give you–fuck–everything.”

You continue to leave marks over his skin, satisfied with the noises you're pulling from Dabi. You run your fingers over his hips lightly. You think you would like your name there. Dabi takes the hem of your shirt between his fingers, urging you to pull the fabric from your body. He rises from his position on the bed, running a hand up the length of your spine as he pulls you close. He kisses you once more, moving his hands to your hips to help you grind down on him.

Pulling away, he trails his lips down your neck, burying his face in your chest. He wraps his lips around your nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers as he looks up at you. You cry out, rapidly grinding against him. He continues to play with your chest, kissing you with fervor and groaning into your mouth.

“C’mere.” He speaks against your lips, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to lay you down on the bed. He hovers over you, slowly pushing his hips against yours in a way that makes you cry out. “Gonna take care of you, okay?”

He slowly makes his way down your body, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. You push your knees together, staring up at him as shakes his head.

“Don’t hide.” He commands softly, pulling your thighs apart. His tongue peaks through his lips for a moment before he speaks again. “Been thinking about this since that night. M’sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to slam the door.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, eyeing your sex as he lowers himself back down. You let out a breathy laugh, “you didn’t?”

“No.” He chuckles against the inside of your thigh, kissing your skin. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, my god.” You giggle, cut off by the feeling of his teeth sinking into your thigh. You gasp, trying to pull away, but his grip on you is tight. He kisses over the mark, eyes finding yours with a warning.

He licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, and you throw your head back, resting your hand on top of his head before he pulls back.

“Look at me.” He speaks, bringing one hand up to run a finger through your folds. You’re already a complete mess, and he feels pride in knowing he’s the reason. He’s always the reason. “Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You nod, wiggling your hips to urge him to continue. He chuckles softly at your desperation before burying his face between your legs again. His tongue runs along your folds in long slow strokes, your hips jolting at the stimulation. No research, or video, or fantasy you had about the man between your legs could have ever prepared you for what this feels like.

Your moans spur him on as he tastes you, the knowledge that he’s the reason for your pleasure more rewarding than anything else. He wraps his lips around your clit and you cry his name. You feel your orgasm building as he continues to lap up your juices, his grip on your thighs tight as he holds you open for him.

“Dabi! Dabi! I’m–” you let out a strangled moan as you grind your hips against his tongue, “fuck–coming! I’m coming.”

Your hips jolt at the pleasure, the feeling of his mouth still on your sex guiding you through your orgasm. He slows his strokes, running the flat of his tongue against you as you calm yourself. The movement of your hips slow as you watch Dabi still buried between your legs. You catch your breath as he tongues your cunt, cerulean eyes staring up at you as you twitch from the overstimulation. He pulls away from your sex with a wet smack, rising to capture your lips with his.

He pulls away, “call me Touya.”

“Huh?” You ask, chasing his lips again. He kisses you slow and deep, his tongue swirling against yours as he pushes his hips against yours. You groan against his mouth.

“Touya. It’s my name.” He says, placing soft kisses against your jaw. “My real name.”

Touya. His name is Touya. You know Dabi’s real name. You get to say his real name, keep that knowledge locked inside of your heart, a secret between the two of you. The reveal makes you feel closer to him, an equal exchange for all of the time he spent inside of your home without your knowledge, though you know it’s really not. You’ll take it, anyways.

“Where’d you go, baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Did the obsessed little freak inside you get excited?”

“Says you.” You scoff.

“Made for each other, right?” He speaks before kissing you again. The kiss is hungry, frantic as his lips consume yours. He fumbles with the studded belt around his waist, pulling away from you only to rid himself of his jeans.

His cock is hard against your entrance, the warmth of him overwhelming as he shifts his hips over yours. He runs his hands up the outside of your thighs, rough hands smoothing over your flesh while he kisses you again. You whimper against his lips, a silent plea for him to do more than grind against you.

“Shhh, let me–wanna remember this.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, running the head through your folds as you try to keep your breathing steady. “Gonna take my time with you.”

Touya leans down to kiss your neck, sucking over the already tender marks he left before, hoping to keep them there for longer, the evidence of him on your skin in the ache he leaves behind. You pant as he continues to grind his hips against yours, arching your back and pushing yourself closer to him as he continues his assault on your neck. Pulling away, he lines himself up with your entrance, staring down at you just inches away from your face.

“Kiss me.” He speaks. “Kiss me, please.”

When you kiss him, he sinks into you, swallowing your moans with his lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stretches you. You catch your breath as he pulls away, adjusting to the size of him as he slowly pumps in and out of you.

“Touya.” You breathe, your hands running through his hair as he pushes into you deeper. A contented smile falls across his face as he feels you move your hips against his. “Feels–mm–good.”

“Yeah? Good. S’all I want. Just want you to feel good.” He says as his hips slowly begin to change pace. Maybe it’s the fact he spent weeks scaring you into delusion, or the fact that he can’t get the way you look when you come out of his head, but your pleasure has become his ultimate goal. He wants to watch you come undone again and again on his cock, disregarding his own needs as you're pushed over the edge over and over. He thinks he’d like you to use him, but for now, Touya wants to take care of you.

He speeds his pace up, gripping your hips in his rough hands as he pounds into you. He’s getting carried away, you realize, as his hold becomes bruising, his kiss, starved. It all feels so good with his hands all over you and his lips so desperate. He needs you and he doesn’t hide it, and with every action, Touya shows you just how much.

“It’s so much! Too much!” Not enough, you think. You cry out as he presses into you deep, pushing in and out of you with long slow strokes, his cock hitting just the spot that has you seeing stars. He groans, feeling you clench around him as he moves.

“Take it.” He commands, thrusting into you. “I know you can. You’re so–fuck–good for me.”

You whine, arching into him and pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. He can’t get enough of you, and you’re completely his. He’ll keep you. He’ll take you with him, make a little villain out of you, keep you nice and fucked out on his cock forever. All of his plans, his goals, the one thing he’s worked toward since becoming Dabi, now include you. You have a real role in his life, one that’s meant to stay, one that means forever.

You’re close. He can tell, and he feels himself being brought to the edge just as quickly as you are. His pace quickens as he thrusts in and out of you, bringing one hand to your lips, feeling you suck two fingers into your mouth before he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. You gasp, burying your face in his neck and biting down. You’ve drawn blood, Touya thinks, feeling the pain spread from the wound. He groans, thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck, s-sorry!” You cry, though your words are hurried and jumbled.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He tells you, panting above you. He runs his thumb against your bottom lip, a faint trace of blood smeared across the inside. He smiles, kissing you and reveling in the faint taste of copper. “You wanted to mark me.”

“Touya, I’m–hah–gonna come!” You cry, moving your hips against his frantically.

“I know, I know.” He coos, swiping his fingers over your puffy clit. “Come for me. Wanna see it.”

Your voice comes out loud and chokes, the end of his name dying on your lips as your hips jolt from the pleasure and your back arches against your sheets. Touya doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own orgasm as he watches your face contort in the same way it had before.

“Need to fill you up. Need to make you mine.” He groans, thrusting quickly.

“I’m yours, I’m yours. Please! I wanna feel it!” You whine. You feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he slows his pace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. He kisses you again, tongues swirling against each other as he stills on top of you.

“Stay.” You breathe, pulling away from his lips and feeling his head fall against you.

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He whispers through labored breath. “So don’t try.”

“Never. You said you’d keep me.” You remind him, feeling him smile against your skin. He rises from where he lays, staring down at you with nothing but adoration. You really are made for him. Cosmic love, divine intervention, soulmates. Touya should have known.

“Always.” He kisses your lips, your nose, both of your cheeks.

“Say it.” You command softly.

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do.

#dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #tw yandere #tw abuse

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alexfromjersey · 1 year

Text

ℕ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕪 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝 - jenna ortega

Stripper!Jenna x Black!G!PReader

summary: to celebrate you being recently released from prison, your siblings take you to a strip club.

warnings: mature language

a/n: blame beyonce for this...might turn this into a series if yall fuck with it enough 👀

“You want to take me where?” You questioned your siblings. One minute, you were focused on doing your job for your first day. The next minute, your siblings were calling you and harassing you about letting them take you out somewhere to celebrate.

Celebrate what you might ask.

You were locked up on drug charges for the last 7 years and you were recently released on parole for good behavior. You were released four months ago and for four months straight, your two brothers and sister kept hounding you to let them throw a party or something. Each time you said no because truthfully, there wasn’t anything to celebrate in your opinion. However, they strongly disagreed.

“To a strip club. One of my homies recommended it to me, it’ll be fun” Your older brother Akeem stated.

“I don’t got no money for no strip club. I just started this job today” You responded and sorted the packages in the truck.

“Don’t worry about that. We got you covered, all you have to do is say yes you’re going” Your younger brother Jeremiah said.

“Nah I’m good, y’all go have fun though” You declined.

You hear your siblings moan and groan out of frustration due to you declining to celebrate again. You just ignored it like usual.

“You irk the shit out of me. You’ve been out for four months and haven’t done a single fun thing yet. I know you’re trying to adjust to the outside world again but a part of adjusting is to have fun. So, come out and let us celebrate being able to hold you again, talk to you face to face and not behind some glass, and be able to experience life again” Your sister Eve ranted.

Even though, you felt the way you felt about being celebrated. Eve was right. Being behind bars for seven years did a number on your mental health, not being able to freely see your loved ones was rough.

You sighed, “If I say yes, will you leave me alone after this?”

“No promises” Akeem smiled.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Fine whatever. What time should I be ready?”

Eve, Akeem, and Jeremiah all shouted yes and told you to be ready by 9. You nodded hung up the phone and got back to work.

“What the fuck am I going to wear?”

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

You finished your first day at work by 5 and with praise from your supervisor. You worked at FedEx, sorting packages and loading up trucks for deliveries. You were surprised they even hired you since your record. You were rejected from numerous jobs because of it and you were about to give up when they called you.

“Nana I’m home” You called out to your grandmother Sheryl as you entered the house. You took your shoes off by the door and hung your jacket on the hook.

“Hey sweetie, how was your first day?” Sheryl asked.

“It was alright, easy work, easy day” You shrugged and sat on the couch.

“Hmm, that’s good. Your dinner is in the microwave. I got to leave in a minute, I’m going to bingo” Sheryl said.

“Cool” You replied and watched Family Feud on the TV.

“Got any plans tonight?” Sheryl asked.

“I was planning on just taking a shower, eating, and going to bed. But your other grandchildren are dragging me out tonight against my will” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh lord, now don’t you go out and get yourself in trouble fooling with your brothers and sister. You need to stay focused, you hear me” Sheryl demanded.

“Yes ma’am” You replied.

“Alright now,” Sheryl said and turned her attention toward the TV.

You sat there until the Family Feud episode ended and then went to the kitchen. You opened the microwave and grabbed your plate.

“Yes!” You quietly cheered when you saw she made baked chicken, mac and cheese, cornbread, and string beans. You were definitely going to get the itis after eating this. You heat it up and basically inhale the food and sweet ice tea.

Not long after, Sheryl left to go to bingo as you were in the shower. You got dressed in some shorts and a tank top. You went back on the couch and laid across which was technically your bed. The other spare room your grandmother had was already preoccupied by your Uncle who was a truck driver. He was on the road but due to be back in a couple of days.

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

You woke up to the sound of your phone constantly ringing and dinging from calls and texts. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and grabbed it from the coffee table.

AK:

come outside

You groan and take a minute to collect yourself before getting up and getting dressed. You put on some loose fit jeans, a white undershirt, a tan long sleeve shirt, and your Timberlands. You make sure your hair is straight and looking good. You also may have stolen some of your uncle’s cologne.

You exit the house, making sure it’s locked up.

“Damn took you forever bitch” Eve commented without looking up from her phone.

“Shut up cornflakes” You replied and smacked her phone out of her hand. Eve sucked her teeth and mumbled an insult under her breath.

“Come on let’s go I’m ready to get a lap dance” Jeremiah bounced excitedly in the passenger seat.

You roll your eyes at your excited brother and got in the backseat next to Eve. Once you were inside the car, you felt a hard smack to the back of your head.

“That was for smacking my phone out my hand bitch” She grumbled.

You muttered an ‘ow’ and rubbed the spot that hurt. Soon after Akeem starts the journey to the strip club. The two boys in the front were engrossed in a conversation about attempting to take a girl home for the night. While Eve hasn’t taken her eyes off her phone since you left the house. You wanted to question it but also didn’t want to pry into her business.

Instead, you looked out the window. You took in the passing scenery. You savored it actually. You didn’t know how much you’ll miss seeing the night life in your city until you got locked up. People watching and observing how other people how fun at night was a great pass time for you.

You didn’t realize how deep into your thoughts you were until you noticed the car stopped outside a building. Your siblings got out and you followed behind them. You make your way to the back of line, thinking that’s what supposed to do. But you noticed your siblings skipped to the front by the bouncers.

“Yo what you doing? Get up here” Jeremiah ushered you.

You gave a sheepish smile to everyone in the line as you passed them. Jeremiah grabbed your shoulders and lead you in strip club.

“How we get to skip all those people?” You asked.

“Connections baby” Jeremiah smirked before digging into his pocket. He then pulled out a band (1,000 if you didn’t know). The younger boy then placed it into your hand.

“What the fuck you giving me this for?” You questioned confused.

“Uh to disperse among all the talented and beautiful sexy ladies in this building. Or you can wipe your ass with it I don’t know and I don’t care” Jeremiah shrugged and left your side before you can even reject it.

You stood there for a minute looking stupid before you pocketed the money. Honestly, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. It smelt like strong ass marijuana and cheap fruity cologne. The bass from the music that was currently playing was vibrating your whole body. Quickly, you found a seat at the front of the stage.

You looked around and saw Jeremiah getting a lap dance in a private room. Akeem was at the bar waiting on his drink. Eve was seen at a booth with a bunch of girls laughing hard.

They beg you to take you out and then leave you as soon they can. You internally roll your eyes at the thought.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and saw a woman with nothing but a bikini top and a thong next to you.

“Follow me” She smiled and grabbed your hand.

You were confused but did as the lady told. She walked you up some stairs and towards a folding chair. You now realize that you’re on stage.

“Wait I-I don’t-”

“Enjoy the show” The woman cut you off. She gave you a wink before walking off the stage.

Suddenly, the lights in the room changed to a dark sultry red and the music cut off. Everyone’s eyes was now turned to the stage including your siblings.

“Alright, everyone for the first time in almost a year please clap your hands, hide your boners, and welcome back to the building Naughty.” The DJ introduced.

It was silent for a moment before you heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor behind you. You turned your head a little behind you and saw a short woman dressed in all red. From the bright red lacy bra corset top to her red 6-inch stilettos. You turned back around when she stood behind you as the beat of a familiar song played. It was Naughty Girl by Beyoncé, how ironic.

You felt her hands glide down the front of your body. Her scent was intoxicating, it was a mix of something fruity and sexy. You were incited by it.

I love to love you, baby (I love to love you, baby), I love to love you, baby (I love to love you, baby)

She removed her hands but not before grabbing your jaw and moving it to your left to face her. Her dark brown eyes never leaving your light brown ones. She dipped down in front of you while swaying her hips sexily to the beat of the song.

I'm feelin' sexy, I wanna hear you say my name, boy

You watched as she poked her ass out to everyone in the crowd. You heard the cheers and saw the money being thrown onto the stage out your peripheral vision. But you wasn’t focused on that, you were focused on the woman dancing in front of you.

Feelin' kind of n-a-s-t-y, Why I just might take you home with me

She got behind you and grabbed the pole behind you and started climbing up it. You looked up in amazement at her strength.

Start feeling so crazy, babe, lately, I feel the funk coming over me, I don't know what's gotten into me, the rhythm's got me feelin' so crazy, babe

She started spinning on the pole using one hand. You were a little scared that she would fall but you had to remember that she’s a professional and she knew what she was doing. Plus, if she were too fall you’ll catch her without hesitation.

She turned herself upside down and prepared herself to slide down. Your eyes once locked on to each other again and she slid down just as the chorus began.

Tonight, I'll be your naughty girl (Uh), I'm calling all my girls

She stopped just a breath away from your face. She expected you to flinch like everyone person she brought up on stage but to her surprise, you didn’t move an inch.

We gon' turn this party out, I know you want my body

She climbed back up the pole and started doing her routine. You felt your hands getting clammy so you wiped it on your pants leg. You then remembered the money in your pocket and pulled it out. You threw a few hundreds in the air making it rain down onto the floor.

After the chorus, she slid down again and got off the pole. Your eyes now took the time to wander over her body. You bit your lip and a finger lifts your chin to her face again. She straddle your legs and you kept your hands to your side.

You saw the rule about no touching the dancers. It was painted in big bold letter, you couldn’t miss it.

You're so sexy, tonight, I am all yours, boy

She leaned in towards your face and you thought your lips were going to brush against each other for a second. But she pulled back a millisecond before they could.

The way your body moves across the floor, feelin' kind of n-a-s-t-y, why I just might take you home with me

She smirked when she felt you twitch at not being able to touch her. Her arms rested on your shoulders and you felt her start to roll on your crotch. Your eyes widen and you instinctively go to grab her hips but you remembered the rule and kept your hands to the side. You did make clench fists to stop yourself from growing happy in that region.

Meanwhile, the woman on top of you applauded your self control. Most people tap out way before this part.

Tonight, I'll be your naughty girl (Uh), (Oh) I'm calling all my girls (Oh), We gon' turn this party out, I know you want my body

She ticked her hips to the beat of the song which made you let out a low groan.

Tonight, I'll be your naughty girl, I'm calling all my girls (Girls), I see you look me up and down, and I came to party

She turned around and started grinding into you again. Your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth as you focused on the woman and trying not to get a boner.

I love to love you, baby (I love to love you, baby), I love to love you, baby (I love to love you, baby)

She did a slow dive towards the fall making sure her ass was still your main view. While she winked at one of the men in the audience who threw basically all of his money towards her. She turned around on to her back and did a body roll on the ground.

I love to love you, baby (I love to love you, baby), I love to love you, baby (I love to love you, baby)

She pulled herself to a squat in front of you and pushed your legs apart. She wrapped her arms under your thighs and flipped herself up onto your shoulders. She supported herself impressively on your shoulders. Her hand gripped your curly hair without causing any pain to you.

Tonight, I'll be your naughty girl (Uh), I'm calling all my girls, we gon' turn this party out, I know you want my body

She then grabbed onto the pole again and climbed up it. She spin on it without any hands this time just core and leg strength. For the finale, she slid down the pole and into a split.

At the end of the song, the whole place was cheering loudly. You were blinded by the sight of falling money everywhere.

“Give it up for Naughty!” The DJ yelled and made the place cheer even louder than before.

You watched as the woman stood up and waved to everyone. Once she locked eyes with you again, she smirked and gave you a wink. She then walked off the stage.

After you were escorted off the stage and made your way to your siblings. They all stared at your flushed face with a grin.

“Money well spent” Akeem commented.

“You paid for that?” You questioned.

“Sure did. We knew if you agreed all you were going to do is either sit at the bar or watch the dancers and occasionally throw money. We had to let you experience a little something” Eve replied.

“And experience something you did” Jeremiah laughed.

You chuckled because you couldn’t even be upset at them. You had a amazing time and it was one for the books.

For the rest of the night, you hung out with your siblings, drinking and chatting. But your mind was still stuck on the sexy small woman named Naughty.

a/n: I hope I wrote this okay. I’ve been feeling a little anxious about my writing lately. let me know if you guys want this into a series cause if you do I got plans for it 👀.

#jenna ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x oc #jenna ortega x black!reader #Spotify

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prod-ddeonu · 1 year

Text

I may just be extremely Heeseung and Jake biased but Heeseung is the only person that came to mind for this. This is absolutely not proofread and it is 3:30am so it will probably never be proofread, ENJOY MUAH MUAH (if it's not to your liking I'll rewrite it)

it was a lovely day outside, so you had decided to take a stroll around the city with your dog, Miyu! You felt a pair of eyes staring at you, but you chose to ignore it and continued walking.

without warning, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. Your survival instincts kicked in as you bent forward and flipped the person onto the ground. "JUNGWON?!" You shouted. Maeum ran up to Miyu and began to sniff her.

you heard snickering from behind you, Jungwon groaning in pain with a smile on his face. "Hey, long time no see," he forced out. You helped him up, apologizing profusely. He introduced all of his friends to you, going from left to right.

your eyes landed on the last person, his hair a dark purple shade as he smiled. "And that's Heeseung," Jungwon finished.

"holy shit" is all you could manage to get out with your jaw hanging. The group burst into laughter, Jungwon offering to catch up at the dog park up the road with his groupmates.

at the park, maeum and miyu were left to play around in the grass. You and Jungwon had adopted them both together when you were younger, but after he had become a trainee, Maeum no longer attended puppy playdates.

"Ah, shoot- MAEUM NO! THAT IS NOT YOUR TOY!" Jungwon shouted, jogging over to his dog who was ripping an unsuspecting stuffed animal to shreds.

An arm slid out behind your back as Lee Heeseung sat next to you. "So, how do you know Wonie?"

"We grew up as neighbors," you smiled with tight lips. "It sucked to see him move away, but I'm happy to watch him achieve his dreams now."

Heeseung smiled at the boy as he lay in the grass with both of the white dogs running over him. "So, you come here often?"

"I live a block away," you shrugged. "I'm here pretty much whenever Miyu wants to go, I'm just lucky that today I ran into Jungwon and his handsome friends."

"So you think I'm handsome?" He smirked.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "You're an idol. It's your job, duh," you sarcastically dragged out your words, earning a laugh from the other.

Jungwon made his way back to the two of you with both of your dogs, all three of them panting. "Y/N, I think Miyu and Maeum have successfully tired themselves out for the day. Maybe we can bring them here together more often?"

You took Miyu's leash, giving Jungwon the same side hug you always did. "I think that would be nice."

When Jungwon left, you expected to call your mom that night and tell her who you'd ran into. You expected to have to teach Miyu how to play at night in order to accommodate Jungwon's schedules. You expected dating rumors to fly around from a crazed fan, even.

You never expected to get a text from an unknown number that evening reading, "Hey, what's cookin' good lookin' ;)" with an attached photo of Lee Heeseung in an apron with obviously microwaved instant noodles in front of him.

You laughed to yourself, typing a witty response in return. "cute apron, instant noodle chef."

He sent another selfie of him blowing a kiss with the apron on and a poorly drawn mustache. "For the record, I think you're cuter than the apron."

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devilsrecreation · 5 months

Text

How many TLG Outlander incorrect quotes have I done? Here’s more anyway

Sumu: I know over 200 ways to kill a man

Kuumwa: You could glue an open jar of rats to his face and then blowtorch the other half of the jar so the rats have to eat their way out through his face :)

Sumu: …..201

Alternatively

Kenge: I know over 200 ways to kill a man

Sumu: You could glue an open jar of rats to his face and then blowtorch the other half of the jar so the rats have to eat their way out through his face

Kenge: …..201

Cheezi: On the count of three, what's your favorite cake? One, two, three-

Cheezi and Chungu, in unison: Chocolate cake peanut butter frosting with chocolate chunks!

Goigoi: Our turn, Sumu! One, two, three- vanilla!

Sumu, deadpan: I've never had cake, what is cake.

Mzingo: Looking left cause you don’t treat me right

Janja: Looking right because you left

Reirei: Looking up cause you let me down

Kiburi: Looking down cause you fucked up

Jasiri: What is wrong with you guys

Janja: Hah! 69! You know what that means? Cheezi: What? Mzingo: That you're a child. Chungu: HOW'D YOU GUESS MY IQ!?

Sumu: Can I be frank with you guys?

Goigoi: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Chungu: Can I still be Chungu?

Tamka: Shh, let Frank speak.

Kenge: Why are Shupavu and Njano sitting with their backs to each other?

Sumu: They had a fight.

Kenge: Then why are they holding claws?

Sumu: They get sad when they fight.

Janja: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Chungu: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Cheezi: I got distracted about halfway through.

Nne, as Tano nods: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

(Royal Mjuzi au)

Kiburi: Are we really going to let Nduli keep Mwamba?

Neema: We kept Tamka.

Jasiri: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life

Mzingo: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!

Kiburi: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this!

Janja: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Reirei: My moral code, is that you?

Jasiri:

Jasiri: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

Tamka: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff.

Wakali: I witnessed the dumb stuff.

Neema: I recorded the dumb stuff.

Nduli: I joined in on the dumb stuff.

Kiburi: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

Janja: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Reirei: Janja no.

Kiburi: Mistlefoe.

Reirei: Please stop encouraging him.

Ucheshi: If you had to choose between Makuu and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose?

Kiburi: That depends, how much money are we taking about?

Makuu: Kiburi!

Ucheshi: 63 cents.

Kiburi: I'll take the money.

Makuu: KIBURI!!!

Kiburi: I trust Janja.

Reirei: You think he knows what he’s doing?

Kiburi: I wouldn't go that far.

Janja: Don't worry, I got a plan.

Reirei: Alright.

Janja: TraitorSayWhat?

Kiburi: Excuse me?

Janja: What?

Reirei:

Janja:

Janja: No wait-

Goigoi: Reirei, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Reirei: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later

Goigoi: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask one of the kids.

Chungu: What if mayonnaise came in cans?

Cheezi: That would suck cuz you can’t microwave metal

Janja: Good morning to everyone except these two furbrains

Ucheshi: The real treasure was the memories we made along the way.

Makuu: I almost died.

Kiburi: That... was my favorite memory.

Reirei: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room.

Janja: Screw that, I’m not kissing any of you.

*Jasiri walks in*

Janja: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.

Janja: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness—

Jasiri: Hi.

Janja: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*

Kiburi: I'm not doing too well.  Pua: What's wrong?  Kiburi: I have this headache that comes and goes.  *Makuu enters the room*  Kiburi: There it is again.

*Kenge and Sumu are planning to break in somewhere*

Sumu: We need to distract the guards.

Kenge: Right.

Sumu: What are we gonna do?

Kenge: I'm going to break their elbows while you poke their eyes.

Sumu:

Kenge:

Sumu: Deal.

Human/Zootopia-esque au: trying to use the family/Kiburi’s computer

Dogo: “Password clue: Favorite child”? Oooh, ah, ouch…sorry, sis. This is awkward *types in their name, but gets denied* What?!

Kijana: Really??? *starts dramatically crying tears of joy* This moment is so much bigger than me! I would like to thank my parents and my manager— *gets denied*

Tamka: “Password clue: Best friend”? Oooh, ah, ouch…sorry, man. This is awkward *types in their name, but gets denied* What?!

Nduli: Really??? *starts dramatically crying tears of joy* This moment is so much bigger than me! I would like to thank my parents and my manager— *gets denied* Aw :(

The Outlanders trying to draw Jasiri:

Janja: I think I made one eye bigger than the other

Mzingo: I was going for a feeling

Reirei, with a perfect drawing: Honestly, I can’t even draw a circle

Kiburi: *shows his picture*

Janja: Okay Kiburi, you just drew yourself

Kiburi: I like me

Jasiri: Dammit, Janja!

Janja: What?! It wasn't me!

Jasiri: Sorry, force of habit.

Dammit, Mzingo!

Mzingo: Not me either.

Jasiri: Oh... Then who set the Outlands on fire?

Njano: *whistles*

Janja: We need to get through this locked door. Reirei, give me your credit card.

Reirei: Here.

Janja, pocketing it: Thanks. Kiburi, kick down the door.

*The group is getting into the car*

Janja: I’m driving.

Cheezi, out of view: Shotgun!

Chungu, turning to face Cheezi: Aww! But you had it on the way here-

Everyone except Cheezi: WOAH-

Cheezi, holding a shotgun: No! I found a shotgun! And I want the front seat! *Pumps gun*

Fuli: What do you think Bunga will do for a distraction?

Kion: He’ll probably make a noise or throw a rock. That's what I would do.

*Explosions and several car alarms go off*

Kion:....Or he could do that.

Goigoi: And now it’s time for... WHAT’S. IN. TAMKA’S MOUTH?

Never try this game. Ever

Tamka: Agahhhagg

Nduli: oh oh oh! It’s those napkins from that one chicken wing place!

Tamka: Uh uh

Chungu: Oh! It’s the entire country of China!

Tamka: *spits the thing out* No! It’s a piece of dental cotton!

Cheezi: From five weeks ago?

Tamka: Uh huh!

Cheezi: And now it’s time for Janja’s poetry beat

Janja: Eh, I don’t wanna

Chungu: But it’s your thing!

Janja: No, it’s not!

Cheezi: Yeah, it is. That’s why it’s called “Janja’s”, emphasis on “Janja’s” poetry beat!

Janja: Why don’t one of you do it this time?

Chungu: You don’t like my poetry!

Janja: Sure, I do! Come on

Chungu: Okay.

I sat down on the ground today

Baobab ball I was to play

But instead of rolling north or south

How’d it end up in my mouth?

Janja: You’re right. That sucked

Chungu: Will Shakespeare my butt

Kiburi: (on one line) Hello?

Tamka (on the other line): Hey, what’s up?

Kiburi: I need a little help, can you come over?

Tamka: I can’t. I’m buying clothes

Kiburi: Alright, well hurry up and come over here

Tamka: I can’t find ‘em...

Kiburi: What do you mean you can’t find them?

Tamka: I can’t find them, there’s only soup

Kiburi: ...What do you mean “There’s only soup”

Tamka: It means there’s only soup

Kiburi:Well, then get out of the soup isle!

Tamka: Okay! You don’t have to shout at me! (walks into another isle) There’s more soup

Kiburi: What do you mean there’s more soup?!

Tamka: It means there’s just more soup

Kiburi: Go into the next isle

Tamka: (goes into the next isle) There’s still soup!

Kiburi: WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW?!

Tamka: I’M AT SOUP!

Kiburi: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE “AT SOUP”?!?!

Tamka: I MEAN I’M AT SOUP!

Kiburi: WHAT STORE ARE YOU IN?!

Tamka: I’M AT THE SOUP STORE!!

Kiburi: WHY ARE YOU BUYING CLOTHES AT THE SOUP STORE?!?!?!

Tamka: FUCK YOU!!!!!

Kenge: I’m not worried about silly things like labels. Animals can call me whatever they want. They could even call me little…..

Kenge: NEVER CALL ME LITTLE!!!!!

(Nduli leans in towards a sleeping Tamka)

Nduli: Tamka..Tamka...Tam-zebra.

Tamka: (wakes up) Gimme the leg! I want the leg!

Makuu and Ucheshi: (staring into each other’s eyes)

Kiburi: (rips the leg off of a kill)

Makuu: We’re having a moment

Kiburi: I’m having a snack

Goigoi: The good news is I named my nickel “Phillip!”

Janja: What’s the bad news?

Goigoi: It’s a girl nickel! :D

Janja: YOU BET ME FOR A NICKEL?!

Cheezi: But it was a shiny nickel!

(Hodari saves Njano’s life)

Njano: Bro... 🥺

Hodari: Bro... 🥺

Kenge: Can you guys stop making out and go get the chimps?!

Neema: [Could I give Tamka a -2?]

Tamka: For what?

Neema: [Just for being you]

Jasiri: You assaulted a 94-year old animal!

Kenge: He sassed me

Mzingo: Ooh, you have some pie! Would you mind if I have a piece?

Janja: Uh, sure. (gives Mzingo a piece of pie)

Mzingo: Can you pass the cool hwhip?

Janja: What’d you say?

Mzingo: You can’t have a pie without cool hwhip!

J Cool hwhip?

M: Cool hwhip, yeah

J: You mean cool whip

M: Yeah, cool hwhip

J: Cool whip

M: Cool hwhip

J: Cool WHip

M: Cool hwhip

J: You’re saying it weird! Why’re you putting so much emphasis on the h?

M: What are you talking about? I’m just saying cool hwhip! You put cool hwhip on pie. Pie tastes better with cool hwhip

J: Say “whip”

M: Whip

J: Now say “cool whip”

M: Cool hwhip

J: Cool WHIP

M: Cool hwhip

J: COOL WHIP

M: Cool hwhip

Janja: YOU’RE EATING FUR!

Actor AU: Deleted scene with Scar and Jasiri

Director: Action!

Scar: Are you saying I’m stupid?

Jasiri: No…

Scar: Do I look. Stupid. To you?

Jasiri: *starts laughing* I’m sorry 😂😂

(Cut to next take)

Scar: Are you saying I’m stupid?

Jasiri: *starts wheezing* I’m sorry! *recomposes herself* I got it. No no, just do it again. I’m fine

(Cut to next take)

Scar: Are you saying I’m stupid?

Jasiri: *pointing* YES! *laughs*

Scar: This is the fifteenth take, I cannot work like this. I will be in my trailer…

Jasiri: I need a break

#damn long post #i have too many quotes that fit them dndbbdgd #a lot of these work in a zootopia/human au #i don’t think the outlanders are okay-#i had to do something with the actor au it was too fun #i don’t talk about mzingo too much so i wanted to include him more #tlg outlanders #the lion guard

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crazychaoticizzy · 1 year

Text

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

feat. Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie

Part 2

That one trend because it's been on my page a lot lately. Anyways, AOT guys' reaction to this

WARNINGS: fluffy

Word Count: 577

Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

EREN YEAGER

You did it at a little hang out between the group, when you and him were the last ones left to clean his apartment

You propped your phone up on the microwave, waiting until he came by to begin

He knew what was happening after “I’m using your shirt as a pillowcase”

However he only smiled smugly and continued to scroll on his phone

He’s looking up, though, ignoring whatever is on his phone in favor of seeing your cute face

He’s definitely waiting for you to continue completely

When you realize this you jokingly slap his chest and he laughs

Towards the end he softly grabs your hand and gently kisses you

Then he walks away, the teasing motherfucker

ARMIN ARLERT

You and Armin were in a bookstore when you decided to whip out your phone

Poor baby didn’t know what you were doing

He was only awkwardly smiling, looking around to make sure no one was around when he realized you were recording

He softly chuckled when you stepped closer to him and softly held his hand, asking “What are you doing?”

You quickly kissed his cheek and said “I like you.”

He paused and seemed to short circuit for a moment as he processed what happened

Then he gave you a soft smile and intwined your fingers

He brought your hand to his mouth and left the ghost of a kiss on your knuckles before offering to take you on a date

JEAN KIRSTEIN

Y’all were in the car just having come out of Target

He immediately shut his phone off, putting it face down on his thigh and turning his head toward you

You nervously glanced at him, clasping your hands together as you moved your lips to the sound

He teasingly asked “Yeah?” when the pillowcase part came up, to which you awkwardly nodded your head

You’re not sure what possessed you, but you leaned toward him

He did the same, and smiled when your hand grazed his jaw, his eyes flicking to your lips

You seemed to realize what you were doing right as you started leaning in further because you immediately pulled and looked away, embarrassed

Jean wasn’t having that, though

He softly grabbed you by the neck, not nearly enough to hurt you or put pressure on your throat, but enough to pull you back to him and kiss you

CONNIE SPRINGER

You guys were in the car again when you decided to prop up your phone and do this

He knew exactly what it was the moment the first sound played

He got so excited he screamed

A passerby looked into your car window to make sure you were okay and walked off

Anyways he was so excited and for what

His eyes were all sparkly and there was the biggest smile on his face as he looked at you and asked “Really?!”

And when you nodded he swears he died and came back to life because of how happy he was

He reached across the center console and grabbed your shoulder to pull you in

He wasn’t sure whether to go for a kiss or a hug, but ended up leaving a loud smooch on your cheek before excitedly shaking you by the shoulder

You are laughing the entire time because he’s just so cute

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Just a short lil thing I came up with hope y’all enjoyed and lmk if you’d like other parts with other characters

-Izzy <3

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hauntedhokage · 11 months

Text

Part 08: On the Mend

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: Bakugou struggles with the growing complexity of his kinda-friendship with you. You extend what is quite possibly an official olive branch.

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

“Does Kirishima know you have a crush on his girlfriend?”

Midoriya’s question rotates through his mind like a broken record. The rest of their conversation about planning early to stop Fight Night before it can start is gone, he can’t focus on anything other than the fact that the damn nerd figured him out in less than a minute of being in the same room. The answer was yes, so much so that Kirishima was actively pushing for him to make a move on the cute reporter so they could hopefully become a triangle or whatever.

He wouldn’t deny how nice it felt to be in his bed with her, both resting their heads on Kirishima’s shoulders since he was their connecting piece. It felt complete, even though everything already felt complete when it was just him and Kirishima - she just made it…more whole? How something whole became whole-ier he wasn’t sure but that’s what it was and it didn’t make sense.

He desperately wanted it to make sense.

Some kind of reasoning ability would help with the guilt he felt whenever he looked at her. The brand of hell he must’ve been putting her through with the uncertainty he made her feel about her relationship with Eijirou, plus thinking he hated her or only wanted to get to know her because of her boyfriend. He knew it was shitty, his own inability to act only hurting them all more than it was helping - and he never thought it would truly help but he didn’t know what to do. He barely had friends, and anything more than that felt impossible. It was a miracle Eijirou had decoded his grunts and groans and closer than normal proximity meant that he liked him, how the hell was he supposed to be able to verbalize that he liked her as more than just Eijirou’s girlfriend or just a friend of his own?

And now she was basically living there, despite them returning to regular hero duties and her return to work. There was always a meal waiting either hot on the stove or in the fridge ready to be microwaved. They hadn’t needed to go grocery shopping, since she was keeping their apartment stocked. The apartment was always clean, which was more of a joint effort between them since he always did what he could to help - mostly dusting where she couldn’t reach above the cabinets, the air vents, and the ceiling fan.

She did all of that for him, and a month ago she thought he hated her and didn’t want her around. He had to do something, and simply saying thank you wouldn’t be enough. It felt like an impossible task to turn things around, but maybe she was already taking the first step by just being present? Or was he reading too much into it? Did he need to just ask? How did he-

“What would you get her?” Katsuki asks aloud, abruptly halting his train of thought as he looks over at his red haired boyfriend as they walk. It’s a reminder that he wasn’t alone, but on his daytime patrol with Eijirou by his side. It wasn’t normal for them to patrol together, but after Fight Night it made sense to double up until the dust fully settled (and they both were fully healed). Time for them to be together at the very least.

“Get what for who and for why?”

“Your girlfriend has been keeping our home in good shape for us. How would you thank her?”

“I’d have some great sex all night but you can’t do that yet, so flowers would be okay. No, better, get her a potted plant.”

He’s choosing to ignore the “yet”, knowing that it wasn’t a conversation he really wanted to get into on a semi-crowded street. So instead he just rolls his eyes as he asks: “How is that better than flowers? Aren’t flowers pretty and girls like pretty things?”

“Yeah, but the plant is better for your pathetic situation.” Again, he’s choosing to ignore some of the words flying out of his boyfriend’s mouth for the sake of keeping his boyfriend alive for the duration of their patrol. “It’s something you’ll take care of for her, for starters, and two it’s something in our place that you got for her with the intent of keeping at our place. In a pot that’s her favorite color, and make it something big.”

“Why does it have to be big?”

“Symbolic of the fact that you don’t want her to go anywhere. A big ass plant? Not one of us is going to want to have to lug that thing out should you piss her off again.”

And he wouldn’t get something that he’d plan on looking at forever and reminding him of her should they break up. It was just smart enough that he was feeling confident about the fact that it would work. Did he want to buy a massive plant and haul it up to their apartment? Not at all, but he’d do it if it meant she’d warm up to him a bit more and know that she was appreciated for all that she’d done for them.

“Finally owning up to your big crush?”

“Fuck off. You’re helping me carry the fuckin’ thing.”

“But you have to pick it out on your own.”

“D’you think she’ll get food with me one day?”

“She sat next to you on the couch last night for an entire movie and didn’t say anything about it to me after. I think she’d get food with you, maybe more.”

“Stop with the ‘more’, damnit!”

“Not until you admit it, asshole!” That was her word, his boyfriend normally called him a dick or a bastard, but never an asshole. Did he know she’d rubbed off on him there?

“Does Kirishima know you have a crush on his girlfriend?”

Unfortunately so, and it was a wonder that the girlfriend didn’t know considering Kirishima couldn’t shut up about it.

“Are you okay with ordering in tonight? She says she doesn’t really feel like cooking.” The question brings him back to the moment, pushing Midoriya’s stupid voice out as he thought about it. They had the fish still, he could cook that and she could take a break for once and let them take care of her.

The response has Eijirou nodding, a stupid little knowing smirk on his face as he texts his girlfriend back. If they weren’t in public he’d kiss the stupid smirk off his face, but that would have to wait.

–

He was regretting the offer to cook when he realized you hovered in the kitchen. Initially it wasn’t so bad, you asked what he was cooking and got out the vegetables for him when he asked. He thought it would end there, and you’d go fuck around with Eijirou while he played a video game on the couch. Snuggle with your love bug or whatever they called it.

Instead you linger.

The offer to chop the vegetables is accepted, and he watches carefully as you work. Very careful with the knife but still fast, setting the bowl of chopped veggies near the stove before leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand. Your gaze isn’t quite piercing, but it does make him feel translucent in the very least and he’s not sure why he hasn’t started squirming yet. Could it be that he liked the way you watched him? Was this truly comfort in your airspace, or was it something else?

“Can I help you?”

“His game is boring,” is all you said at first, meeting his gaze for only a moment before quickly looking away. “I can leave, though. If you’d rather-”

“You can stay.” He hates how quickly the offer is extended, but relaxes when you do and returns your nervous smile. All he needed to do was talk, just say something - anything - that could diffuse the nervous tension in the kitchen. Eijirou couldn’t bail them out of this, and Katsuki is sure he wouldn’t even if he was aware of what was happening in the kitchen. He got too much fun out of seeing them slightly uncomfortable together.

“So, how was patrol?”

“Patrol was good. Quiet. Everyone always seems to calm down more after Fight Night.”

“Yeah?”

“Things’ll pick up in a couple weeks, I’m sure. But low crime means easy days, and you get to report on other things, right? Like that new community center that’s opening?” You cared about stuff like that, and he’s proud of himself for remembering that when he sees your face light up a bit. Baby steps, or something like that.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the grand opening. Pulled some strings to get Red Riot there for the ribbon cutting. I hear the kids are stoked.”

“What’d that cost you?”

“Oh you know, push your tits in his face and he’s easy.”

“If we’re both using the same tactics, he’s going to catch on.” That got you to laugh, and he feels something warm in his chest at how good it feels that he’s the one making you laugh and not out of need to diffuse the tension. How relieving it is to know that he can make you laugh and that you did want to laugh with him and around him. He wasn’t a lost cause after all. “Can I get an invite to the grand opening?”

“‘Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight’ might not fit on the invite.”

“Would ‘Bakugou Katsuki’? I’m not trying to go for the clout of being there, I just want to be there for it, check it out, that kind of thing.” “You can be my plus one, since Red Riot got his own invite.” He nods at that, looking back down at the pan to try to hide the blush and blame the warmth in his cheeks on the heat radiating off the pan. “You can totally do your own thing, though. Doesn’t mean you have to hang out with me for the whole thing.”

He was going to be hanging out with you for as long as he reasonably could, and that was that. Opportunities like this didn’t happen all the time, he’d be an idiot to miss out on this.

#alp #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo imagine #kiribaku #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic

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novantinuum · 6 months

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Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 3.8K~ Summary: A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

W o e, more OC content be upon ye

In this one, Jean meets Greg and the Crystal Gems. (There's a bit of Greg POV at the beginning, just to mix things up.) I had so much indulgent fun writing it, and hope anyone who checks it out enjoys.

Enjoy! <3

Absentmindedly humming a few bars of a commercial jingle he must’ve overheard on TV the other day, Greg finishes stirring up some instant oatmeal he just took out of the microwave. It’s a bit of a late breakfast for his tastes given the clock is nearing 10:45, but hey- anything’s better than nothing. Better to eat now than to find oneself running on low energy by lunchtime.

He licks his lips in anticipation, and carries the bowl over to the beach house’s living room couch.

Stars, what’s on his docket today beyond breakfast, anyways?

Groceries, for one. He’s running low on milk, butter, parmesan cheese, spaghetti sauce, and a number of vegetables. If he really wants to think ahead, now would also be a great time to stock up on bagels to toss in the freezer for later. No matter how many of those he buys, he always seems to be running out of ‘em. It’s also one of Steven’s days off from work, thus a good opportunity to try a video call. His son doesn’t always answer immediately, but that’s okay. He’s a grown adult now, a soul yearning to forge his own identity separate from the people and place he called home back in childhood. He needs his own space, and sometimes that just means ignoring your clingy ol’ man until you feel ready to chat.

And then, of course there’s his ongoing music project he can work on— a concept album of sorts, chronicling the tale of an optimistic, yet lonely young musician and his lover from beyond the stars. For nearly two decades her death silenced his work, but… seeing her framed face on the nightstand next to him every morning when he wakes up… living so close to the crystalline stage he knelt on when he sung his first romantic ballad to her… it must’ve stirred some aching desire that he hasn’t entertained in a very long while. He’s written about half of this album in the span of the last two months, and hopes to complete it by the end of the year. Beyond that he’s not sure where this project will take him… whether he’ll keep these songs close to his chest or email his old industry contact Sunshine Justice and see if she can hook him up with a decent recording studio for ‘em. Only time will tell, in the end. He’s got options.

But before he can get more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal under his belt and reliably plan out his day, his musings are interrupted by a timid knock rapping against the front door.

Greg sighs, setting the bowl aside on the coffee table as he gets up to check who’s here.

If he had to guess, it’s most likely a recently arrived Gem— spellbound and confused— desperately trying to locate Little Homeschool after seeing one his son’s many adverts about it. That’s the most common visitor they see at the house entrance these days, beyond the rare training visit from Connie to refresh her sword fighting skills with Pearl. He’s not sure who else would go to all the trouble of hiking across the beach to reach this place. And anyways, if he’s visiting human friends in town, he always walks to their houses.

Which is why he’s surprised to open the door and see just… what seems to be a human stranger standing there, hands stuffed in pockets and expression filled with palpable apprehension.

The stranger is young— easily Steven’s age or younger— with a shock of short, wavy brown hair and teal tinted glasses, clad in overalls and a pair of ratty old tennis shoes.

He waves a quick greeting, a potent dose of curiosity painting his tone.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

“Should I even be doing this?” Jean mutters to themself as they trudge down the far side of the beach, following the directions the cute pizza shop girl gave them last night.

But the closer they creep towards their destination, the sillier this whole stupid trip starts to feel. So they expect to… what? Simply drop in uninvited to the home of four of the most influential beings in the whole galaxy, and say “hey, guess what, you never knew I existed but I’m actually a half-Gem too?” Ughh. Oh, geeze. This was such a bad idea. Why did Dad even agree to bring them here? And what do they even want from this? To train? To harness whatever hypothetical powers they might have resting dormant within their gemstone? To… to just go on one of those zany, magical adventures they always dreamed about as a kid? To be freely invited into their little school for Gems? (Even though they’re not a Gem… not in all the ways that matter, at least.) Are they hoping to uproot their entire life and outright live here one day? Or are they literally only here because they’re craving closure to the questions they’ve been asking their entire life— who was Mother? Who am I? Is there any place in this vast universe for people like me?

What do I actually want to do with my life?

Heaving a long, exhausted sigh, they trek onwards anyways. After such a long road trip to reach this place, it’d be unthinkable to back down now.

A set of crumbled but monolithic stone arms come into view a few dozen paces further, a mere taster of the majestic vista awaiting them on the furthest point of the peninsula. Jean’s seen plenty of pictures of Beach City’s infamous temple statue online, sure— images of a regal, curly haired figure boasting enough limbs to rival a goddess— but nothing can prepare them for the sheer level of spellbinding awe that courses through their soul as they break around the edge of the cliff and finally gape upon it with their own two eyes. As melodramatic as the sentiment may sound, seeing this temple for themself is like tasting air for the first time, like waking up from a decade long fantasy to a world more vivid and colorful than they could’ve ever dreamed. Surely not a single photographer alive could capture the true scale of this ancient carving. A watery smile stretches across their cheeks while they drink in the sight. The cliffside is mossier than they expected. The earthy greens make for such lovely contrast against the colder browns and grays. Then, their gaze drops towards the statue’s navel… to the humble beach house nestled there within a set of stone arms.

Here it is. This is the place. There’s no turning back now, not unless they want to return to their motel room a coward.

Their hands fidget restlessly at their side as they climb up the sandy stairs leading to the porch. When they reach the top, they cross towards the front door and— heart pounding— rap their knuckles against the frame as politely as they can muster.

Beat.

Jean can hear the shuffling of feet from inside. They shove their hands in their pockets as the footfalls grow closer and closer, before—

The door swings open. Their expression narrows in bemusement. The person they’re greeted by isn’t one of the famed Crystal Gems, but rather… a human. A somewhat plain looking human, if they’re frank. (Which— in this situation— is a good thing, because it finally disarms the sheer spine tingling anxiety that was racing up and down through their veins prior.) The portly individual looks to be somewhere around their father’s age, with greying shoulder-length hair and a full beard. He’s sporting shorts and what looks to be a band t-shirt.

The man flashes a quick wave, and then speaks.

“Hi, uh… can I help you…?”

Jean scrunches their nose— a nervous twitch they’re unfortunately hyper-conscious of in high pressure situations like these— before working to piece together a halfway coherent sentence.

“I, um— y-you don’t know me, but my name is Jean. Jean Maverick, and I’m… well, I’m kinda hoping to—”

Before they can even reveal the crux of their mission, they feel this person’s full attention fixate upon the upper facets of their pale gemstone, just visible over the neckline of their shirt. His eyes widen.

“O-oh, yes,” they interrupt their own introduction, cheeks reddening. “That. Y’see, I may not look it, but I’m actually part Gem, like all the Gems who live here in town, a-and—”

He shakes his head, giving a laugh tinged with a bit of what they can only describe as sheer disbelief. “No, no, trust me— I more than understand this kinda stuff. I’m Greg Universe,” he says, extending his hand in greeting. “My, uh… my son’s like you.”

It’s Jean’s turn for their eyes to blow wide open with shock.

“You- you’re Steven’s dad,” they breathe, reaching out for his offered shake.

“Yup, guilty as charged. Now, what can I do for ‘ya? You looking for Steven? The Gems?”

“Well, I was hoping to talk with the Crystal Gems, b-but…” They pause, their brow wrinkling inwards as the ticking cogs of their mind consider the possible implications of their fellow hybrid’s father being present. “Steven’s not here now, is he? I heard he left town a while back…”

“Nah, he did. He’s out living on the west coast right now. The Gems, however… now that I can help you with.”

Introductory small-talk concluded, Mr. Universe invites them inside to wait for the Gems, grabbing his phone from his pocket to— they can only assume— shoot a quick text to one of ‘em.

Jean glances around the interior of the house with ample curiosity, admiring the dense collection of old CDs and cassette tapes that fills much of the shelf space behind the couch. It looks like mostly classic rock and a bit of R&B, many of them artists they don’t recognize. (Though the name Kerry Moonbeam leaps out at them— they remember jamming to a few of his top hits while on the road with Dad, like “Midnight Spectacle” and “Life on Venus.”) On the top shelf there’s an intricately detailed pink sword on display, shattered just beyond the hilt. And on the far wall midway up the stairs they spot a colorful canvas portrait, featuring what looks like a grinning, teenaged Steven sitting at the front and Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl poised behind.

All in all, it’s a very cozy, lived-in space… enough so to almost distract them from the crystalline cavern connected directly to the living area. Their interest immediately piqued, they give a sharp exhale and advance a few steps closer. Is that…? Why, yes it is! It’s a warp pad, just like the ones they’ve seen pictures of online. (And one in person, thanks to a tip from a local.) From all their research it seems that there’s a whole network of these low, crystal platforms stretching across the surface of the Earth. And as rumors go, Gems can use them to travel from one point to another near instantaneously. Jean has no idea if this ability is one that translates to half-Gems, though. They had no luck with the one they visited years back.

Their mouth scrunches into a little frown upon that musing. There’s still so, so much about Gems they don’t know, isn’t there?

“So, Jean,” Mr. Universe says, finishing up with his phone. “Where’d you say you were from, again?”

“Prudence, Calizona?” And when his expression merely wrinkles in unawareness, they add: “It’s, um… a small university town out in the middle of the desert, so I’m not surprised you aven’t heard of it way out here.”

“And you traveled all the way to Beach City just to meet with the Gems? Wow, that’s… a pretty big journey for someone your age. This must be real important to you.”

“Well, there’s no Gems out there,” they explain with a shrug. “I’ve always known I was different, but— I never got to learn anything about that part of my heritage, y’know? So that’s why I’m here, I guess. For answers.”

“Well, I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Jean’s gaze drifts down towards the gem inlaid in their chest. “Yeah,” they say, resting their palm over the central facet. “So do I.”

A tiny frown blooms across the man’s face as he observes them further. They rock back and forth upon their heels as they attempt to dodge his frustratingly intuitive gaze, unsure of what else to say or ask. Such lingering attention makes them feel twitchy.

“Here, why don’t you have a seat,” he offers then, gesturing towards the flat cushioned sofa against the far wall of the living area. “They should be inbound any minute now. Can’t imagine them dawdling on news like this, heh. And hey, uh… while you wait, d’ya want anything to drink, or snack on, or—?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” they say, sitting themself down on the far edge of the couch and noting the soggy bowl of oatmeal left half uneaten on the coffee table right in front. It’s bad enough that they’re crashing this man’s morning routine, the last thing they want to do is completely put him out. Not to mention, he probably doesn't have much they could safely digest, anyways.

True to his word though, the famed Crystal Gems arrive on the warp pad with not a second to waste, ringed in by a beam of dazzling cyan light and the platform’s resonant chime. Heart pounding a coward’s thrall, Jean averts their gaze low to keep from downright staring at the trio.

Holy fucking shit.

“We came as soon as we could,” the pale, lithe one— Pearl— says to Mr. Universe, crossing straight into the living room like a soul on a mission with the other two hot on her heels.

It’s them. It’s actually them. The Gems they’ve dreamt of meeting ever since they were just a starry-eyed preteen researching a small town mystery in the vicious trenches of obscure conspiracy theory message boards. Their jaw falls entirely ajar in the shock of it all. Oh stars, be cool, be cool, be cool—!

“—is our mystery visitor?” Pearl continues with a quick gesture towards them, the first half of her sentence consigned to auditory oblivion with how damn rapid fire Jean’s thoughts are blasting around their head.

Mr. Universe nods.

“Yeah, I was grabbin’ some breakfast, and she—” (they don’t bother to suppress that instinctive cringe. Hoo boy, they really need to step in and complete their introduction ASAP, huh)— “just showed up at the door, askin’ after you.”

“They,” Jean blurts out, mouth entirely dry with anxiety at this point.

“Huh?”

“It’s… they, actually. They/them. Sorry, I- I kinda forgot to mention.”

His brows shoot up in understanding. “Ahh, gotcha. My apologies for not asking. Anyways, these are the Gems! Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl… though I get the sense you’ve already done your research, huh?”

They nod, still working to shake that hazy, star-stricken sensation out of their system.

“So then, mysterious stranger,” the shorter, purple Gem— Amethyst— says, sliding right across the living room towards them. “What’s your whole deal? Gimme all those good deets!”

“I, uh… well, I’m Jean,” they stammer, clasping their hands together behind their back. “Jean Maverick. I’m eighteen, I use they/them pronouns as I just mentioned, and… my mother… was a Gem.”

They tug down the scooped neckline of their shirt ever so slight, revealing the full cut of their pale lavender gemstone to the room. Pearl lets out an audible gasp. The other two simply gape in stunned silence, not uttering a single word at all.

“And now you probably understand why I called you over,” Mr. Universe comments, gesturing towards them.

“Another hybrid?” Amethyst says, her brow furrowing as she glances up at Garnet, the tallest of the bunch. “Like Steven? Is that even possible?”

“It is now,” Garnet replies with an almost mystified tone, crossing her arms as she leans back against the counter.

“But for a Gem to shapeshift human reproductive organs for that long,” Pearl muses, hand balled at her chin as she paces back and forth across the wooden slats. “Stars, for anyone but a diamond, that should be unachievable!”

The purple quartz simply waves the notion away. “Pshh, nah, that part’s easy, P- you just poof, and then reform with those organs! I do it with a stomach like, all the time. Mainly, I’m just surprised that another Gem would come up with the idea to have a baby in the first place.”

“Or that another Gem was living on Earth uncorrupted all this time, and we never knew,” Garnet comments, expression uncertain.

They swallow hard. Normally they consider themself pretty skilled at overanalyzing people’s emotions— an unexpected perk of living with generalized anxiety— but Garnet in particular is dauntingly hard for them to read right now. Pearl’s an easy one… she’s invested in the mystery of their arrival here today, too busy sorting the potential puzzle pieces in her mind to give anything else surrounding her much notice. Amethyst seems equally as puzzled by their presence, although out of the three of them it’s her who’s been the most accommodating of their awkwardness, so far. (Jean thinks back to how Amethyst leapt in amidst that weird conversational lull to give them a chance to officially introduce themself, and finds it rather perceptive of her.) Garnet, though—? Is her tense yet closed-off body language signaling confusion? (At how they could exist?) Vexation? (That they exist?) Distrust, even?? (That they’re here, now?) Or is she chewing over something else entirely, something they couldn’t ever hope to guess with their extremely limited outsider’s context?

And why do they care so much about how the three of them feel in the first place? Chill, Jean. Geeze.

“Well, if it helps,” they shrug, “my dad said he met my mother out in the wilderness of Calizona, while on a backpacking trip.”

“Calizona, eh…” Amethyst says, squinting as she thinks. “Hey, wait— the Beta Kindergarten’s out that way, yeah?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Pearl asks, her eyes lighting up with clear intrigue.

“I’m saying… isn’t it possible that Jean’s mom just emerged late… like me? It would explain how she avoided the corruption. And their gem does look pretty quartz-like.”

“Sounds like a more sound theory than I could ever come up with,” Mr. Universe pipes up all of a sudden with a broad shrug.

“In any case, all our broad theorizations can wait,” Garnet waves them all off. Inhaling deep, her gaze levels straight on them. “I know you came here with a purpose,” she says.

A blunt observation, not a question.

Jean shuffles upon their feet, feeling as exposed as a budding nerve under the sheer magnitude of their scrutiny. The half of them that’s merely a tangled ball of anxiety masquerading as a person craves nothing more than to spin on their heels and bolt away— too scared of potential rejection, too scared of all the unknowns bleeding through at the very edges of their future’s canvas— but then… this is what they drove hundreds of miles for, yes? Plus, they don’t want to disappoint Dad— he knows how much they’ve dreamed of this moment, and they’re sure it’d break his heart if they backed down right at the cusp of achieving said dream.

It’s now or never.

Deep breath. Hold your spine straight. Brave heart, Jean.

What do you really want?

“I… heard about your school,” they begin, weathering that treacherous unknown to make direct eye contact with each and every one of them in turn. “And I know the technical purpose of it is to teach Gems about humanity, but… I was wondering if maybe… you’d also be willing to teach a half-human how to be a Gem.”

“Hmm,” Pearl hums, leaning back against the counter at Garnet’s side. “Well, I suppose we already have a sort of human exchange program at Little Homeschool. Anyone who’s curious about the work we do there is allowed to spend a day on campus and attend whatever classes they wish, provided they give our students a quick informal lecture on a topic that interests them. Perhaps we could discuss developing a program like this that’s more long-term in nature, and customized to your needs as a half-Gem.”

Their mind reels in giddy circles at the very notion. Them? An official student of Little Homeschool?? It’s an alluring prospect, to be sure.

“Hey, y’all?” Amethyst cuts in before they can move to respond, upper lip curling into a half-grimace. “Not to like, totally derail, but I just checked the time and we’re gonna be late for the fusion seminar if we don’t start heading on back now.”

The tall, ivory Gem winces. “Oh stars, you’re right.” Then, glancing across the living space towards Mr. Universe with a somewhat apologetic expression: “Sorry, Greg— you caught us at a bit of a busy time. Do you mind entertaining our guest a little while longer as we finish up today’s classes?”

“Why don’t you just take them with you?” he suggests. “Seems they’re interested in what goes on there anyways.”

“Bismuth or Peridot may have time to give a tour,” Garnet voices, breaking her little understood silence. (Oh, a penny for her thoughts right now…)

Jean beams at the idea, a joyous little burst of energy soaring through their system upon realizing they’re one step closer to realizing that shining desire they set their eyes on the day the ocean’s disappearance kickstarted their research into their Gem heritage in the first place— to actually nurture and embrace this part of themself. “I’d love a chance to look around, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The three Crystal Gems ultimately approve, beckoning for them to join them on the warp pad. It takes every single scrap of self restraint within their soul to not do the cringiest little happy jig as they scuttle across the floorboards and step up onto the crystalline platform. Getting to experience a trip on one of these suckers is honestly a dream come true all on its own. They’ve seen one in person before— back during their forum-surfing research days, they managed to convince Dad to drive them all the way out to a lone warp pad a local enthusiast posted the coordinates of— but couldn’t manage to activate it on their own. Now, though? With the possibility of joining Little Homeschool officially on the table, there’s no telling what they may one day learn to achieve.

Jean waves farewell to Mr. Universe as the warp activates, whisking the four of them away. It was super kind of him to take time out of his morning routine to help them contact the Gems— they’ll have to think of some meaningful gesture to thank him with later.

Pushing themself out of their comfort zone just to reach this point proved to be a bit of a challenge, but beyond the thorny confines of all their social anxieties, their future suddenly feels very bright.

#su #su future #(as in... it's Post that)#greg universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #jean maverick #ocs #su fanfic #su oc #echoes of chalcedony #my writing stuff

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eddiernunson · 1 year

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Trapped | Eddie Munson | Epilogue

Prev Part | Master List | Prequel

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (reader grieves Eddie)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: a lot of talk about grief.

Author's Note: I didn't think I'd get emotional while preparing this post, but boy did I. I had a lot of joy writing these characters. But, guess what? I'm not through with them! I have a prequel planned that takes place when she works at Scoops Ahoy and I have a long form sequel planned (that is very different from this but an intriguing concept nonetheless.)

I gave the story an ending that could either A) Lead you right into the sequel or B) let her story finish on a higher note.

If you enjoyed this story enough to keep reading thank you, I appreciate you.

As you close the door to your apartment behind you, tossing the keys onto the counter, the sound of the TV on in the living-room greets you. You weren’t expecting it, your roommate out of town for the week visiting family in Florida. When the bathroom door from down the hall opens and Steve Harrington walks into your line of sight everything clicks.

Steve greets you with an open smile on his face, opening his arms as you walk into them comfortably. “Don’t you have a home you don’t have to pay rent for?” You mumble, half joking.

Truth is, you weren’t looking forward to spending the night alone.

“Don’t you?” Steve shoots back as he always does.

You sigh, the polyester of the grocery store uniform shirt feeling gross against your skin. You make your way to your room, a downsized version of the one you had sitting at your parents’ house. You quickly get dressed into some pajamas as Steve waits for you on your couch. Having given him a key, you supposed you should be used to him coming and going as he pleased.

It still startled you every time, though.

You land onto the couch right next to him, watching an episode of The Golden Girls. “How was work?” He asked, and you notice one of your bags of chips right in front of him, nearly empty.

“Shitty.” You comment, snatching the bag from him. “You know, for someone with a full pantry at home you sure steal my chips a lot.” You glance into the reflective bag, only a few handfuls and some crumbs left.

“Good thing I brought more.” Steve says, gesturing to some of the grocery bags on the floor.

The same one you worked at. “When did you go to Kroger?”

“This morning before you worked.” Steve says dismissively. “Vickie asked me to pick up something for a surprise for Robin.”

Your stomach grumbles, and you get up to make some instant noodles, too tired to make anything else.

“Why was your day shitty?” He asks you tentatively. For the record, a shitty day sometimes meant your grief overwhelmed you out of nowhere while restocking shelves. Sometimes, it meant you had a panic attack in the bathroom. Sometimes a shitty day just meant shitty people. Luckily, it was the latter.

You gulp, filling the cup of noodles with water. “Uh, there some girls talking in the break room today and one of them said the uh…” you pause, you can say it, “Munson Murders.” You place it into the microwave, the beeps loud in the silence that follows.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks you, absentmindedly eating the rest of the chips.

“I’m used to them, by now.” Unfortunately, with this job came new coworkers. Some of whom believed the media when the ‘truth’ of the earthquake came out. You’ve gotten used to attempting to ignore them, but they had their moments when they got to you.

As you take the noodles out of the microwave, Steve says something, and the conversation is like clockwork. “You know a way to avoid that—” he starts.

“Don’t say it.”

“The way to avoid his name or reputation altogether—”

“Steve.” You plead with him, your mind tired.

“Is to move, yeah?”

He tells you to leave town at least once a week at this point.

“As soon as you’re able to tell me that you guys have successfully gotten rid of Vecna.” You answer him, a version of what you say to him every time.

“If—” Steve sighs, running his hand through his hair. “if you left town you wouldn’t have to be the girl with the dead boyfriend anymore. You could talk about him without any fear of someone asking his name.”

“And what, be okay with Eleven risking her life on a semi-regular basis? Nancy? Robin? You? Dustin? Mike? Lucas? Erica? Will? Jonathan? Hopper and Joyce, for Christ’s sake? You guys are out there, fighting the good fight and trying to prevent Vecna’s vision to Nancy from coming true, while I’m working at a cash register and restocking aisles every day. I’m on desk duty. Worse. You won’t even tell me what’s going on anymore.”

“Last time you convinced us you were ready you had a panic attack.” Steve emphasizes, his voice stern. “You’re clearly still affected by it.”

You look down to your right hand, the ring Dustin had managed to grab for you providing a great deal of comfort.

He relaxes into the couch, his heavy heartbeat calming down. “If the panic in your eyes when I say his name out loud has any indication, you need the distance if you want to be helpful.”

You roll your eyes to this, ignoring the gnawing feeling you’ve had for about a month that distance from Hawkins might’ve been exactly what you needed.

Problem was, it was already September of 1987 and colleges weren’t accepting any applications until the spring term. Another problem was that it’s October next month, and last October was so hard for you that you could barely recall it.

Memories of Robin, Nancy, and Steve finding you with a tear-streaked face surrounded by tissues and a tape inspired by his taste in music was playing on your stereo. You were fast asleep on your couch, polaroids you’ve been too scared to look at finally seeing daylight again.

You had cried yourself into a coma that night.

This upcoming October had you apprehensive about your tendencies to self-destruct that you’ve developed over the last seventeen months.

“Get out of Hawkins for a bit. When you can say his name, or better yet, tell a story about him without crying, you’re good to come back and help us out.” Steve tells you, rubbing your shoulder absentmindedly. “We want your help and trust me when I say I wish I could tell you about what we’ve learned but.” Steve stops suddenly, and it doesn’t need to be said.

You thank him for attempting to speak it into existence for another try but let him know you weren’t going anywhere. At least, that was the plan as you showered and made your way over to your bed that night.

The next day you had plans to go to your mom’s house to see her, a rare visit back home. You sat at the kitchen island, watching her cook as she continues to ask about your life. She really attempts to hide the fact that your life is killing her from the inside at the moment.

You weren’t going to school. You weren’t planning to, as far as she knew. No plans for the future, and she was sure if she wasn’t careful you would end up working at Kroger for over 30 years and become a shell of the girl you once were.

“Are you sure you want to stay in Hawkins?” she asks, her voice soft as she leans forward to you on her elbows against the island counter.

Usually, a resounding yes would’ve left your mouth. This time, however, you hesitate in your answer.

Something about what Steve had said finally started to get through. Truth is, you were tired of feeling like this. All of your emotions, everyone’s voices, the weight still sitting on you, pulling you down and denying you energy to even muster the want to care felt like you were stuck under water. You weren’t sure if it was your body telling you the grief had become too much to carry or if Steve had finally gotten through to you but something about yourself felt different…like you…wanted to get better.

“Where would I go?”

You knew you shouldn’t have let her talk you into this. You sit at a restaurant from down the block to your dorm, twiddling your thumbs as you wait for the person your college dorm-mate set you up with to walk in. The pictures she’s shown you were…decent. He wasn’t a bad looking dude, but you found yourself comparing him to Eddie, anyway.

Getting into college and into normalcy felt like coming up for air after being stuck underwater for so long. It felt so nice you wondered why you didn’t want to in the first place.

Grief had a hold on you that you finally managed to wring yourself out of, and now it’s just a creature on your shoulder. Sometimes the creature is loud and obnoxious, but most of the time he just sits on your shoulder swinging his legs.

Finally, someone pulls out the chair, bringing you to the present. “Hi! You must be y/n.” He says sitting without so much as a handshake.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. Mark, right?” He nods his head politely, the brown curls reflecting a shine in the overhead light. “So how do you know Nadine?” you start the awkward small talk.

Mark gets into it, describing how he met Nadine on his first tour of campus, and they just seemed to be kindred spirits. He goes on to describe how Nadine showed a picture of you to him and he begged her to set up a date for the two of you.

As this was your first date in over two years, it took a lot of convincing to get you to even consider a date.

“So, what brings you all the way to Montana State?” he asks you, starting up the conversation with some small talk.

“I needed some space.” You answer, and you knew the only reason you haven’t gone to Washington was the rainy weather it was notoriously known for.

“Shitty break up?” He asks you, and you’re nearly surprised Nadine didn’t disclose it to him already.

You take a minute to consider how to respond. “Is it considered a shitty break up when one ends up six feet under?” You ask, your hand fiddling with the black ring that found home on your right hand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He apologizes, and it’s nice that you can tell he genuinely feels bad.

You shrug. “Honest mistake.”

The small talk continues, Mark talking about growing up in New York and why he had chosen to be a teacher instead of a doctor like his dad had planned for him. You listen to him, slowly finding comfort in his expressive story telling.

Something catches your eye and you flicker to it and you suddenly wished you hadn’t, the little demon on your shoulder now shouting in your ear obnoxiously. You attempt to blink back the tears threatened to fall and Mark falters out his story, worry invading his features. “It-it’s ok” You breathe, wiping away the one tear that succeeded.

You exhale slowly, and close your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the memory that was triggered by the happy couple in the faraway booth sitting a little too close to one another.

An image of Eddie flashed across your face, the vague reminder of the nervousness you felt just being so close to him, and the knowledge that he wanted you to be there with him and his dimpled smile.

It’s a quick memory, but you find the more you allow yourself to think them through than push them down, the less likely you end up in a full-on meltdown.

You open your eyes again, now relaxed, and the sight of the happy couple didn’t make you want to throttle them. Progress.

Mark is staring at you, and you can’t decipher the expression on his face. You smile closed mouthed. “Sorry. If I don’t process the emotion in the moment, it just gets worse.”

“Does it have to do with—”

“Yeah.” You interrupt him, wanting to move passed it.

“You want to tell me about it?” Mark asks, and you give him a bewildered look. The fuck?

He laughs, taking a sip of his water. “You’ve been letting me talk about myself this whole time, and I’ve come here to get to know you.” He starts fiddling with his napkin. “It seems this…loss you feel is something you’re still dealing with and therefore a part of you. I want to get to know you, so tell me about it.”

You squint, afraid to give in to his bizarre request. “Isn’t talking about an ex on the first date a bit of a red flag?” You ask, and it occurs to you this is the first time you’ve ever referred to Eddie as an ex.

“On the normal occasion, yes. But this doesn’t seem normal. Tell me about it.”

You sigh, and for the first time in over 2 years, you tell a story about Eddie Munson that doesn’t end in tears.

In fact, you were laughing at his antics with Mark, remembering his dimples as he laughed and the animated movements of leading his club in another night during Hellfire.

The date with Mark does end on a good note, him still asking questions about Eddie conversationally. As he walked you back, Mark insisted he didn’t mind talking about him. “I think you needed to talk about him more than you needed a date, if I’m gonna be honest.”

You smile gratefully to him, a relief hanging on your chest. It might’ve felt crazy, but the demon on your shoulder felt smaller. “I don’t think I’m ready for dating yet.” You admit, and Mark accepts it so gracefully, you felt bad for thinking he looked like he would’ve bullied Eddie earlier in the evening.

As you close the door to your dorm room Nadine pounces on you, asking how your date went. “I think it went pretty good. It established I’m not ready to date again, yet, but Mark was so sweet it was worth it.”

Her face breaks out in a smile, ignoring what you said about not ready to date yet. “That’s so amazing! Tell me how it went!” You open your mouth to tell her when the phone rings, a personal landline for your room. Nadine answers it, closest to the phone. “Oh, yeah she’s right here.”

Nadine’s eyebrows waggle as she passes you the phone, and you know who it is before she even tells you. “Hi, Harrington.” You answer, all love in your voice.

“Hi, there, y/n.” He responds, sound of laughter in your voice. “Hows it?”

“Actually,” you put the receiver away from your phone, asking Nadine to go for a quick walk so you can tell Steve something. She nods her head quickly, leaving the room with the door closing quietly. “Sorry, I just wanted to say I had a really good night. I just got back from…from a date.” You admit out loud.

You could hear his jaw hitting the floor. “Oh shit. How-how’d it go?” Steve was failing to hide how excited the prospect of you going on a date apparently made him feel.

“It was ok…at first. We talked about him for a good first part because the moment someone decides to ask about me I have not much to say except I’m dealing with a loss that has affected every day of my life until about three months ago.” You pause, pursing your lips. “Then I saw this couple, and they looked just like me and him back at the fucking Chef’s Table on our first date and I just…” you inhale, the same feelings bubbling up to surface. “I let myself feel it, think about it, then I was ok.”

“How did he react to that?”

“Better than you would think.”

“Oh? Explain?”

“He insisted if I didn’t talk about myself then what I had gone through must’ve been enough to be who I was for a bit. Which, granted, feels reductive to amount me to my grief but he was right.”

“Damn.”

“I’m not finished. I talked about Eddie, Steve. I told him probably about six stories I haven’t thought about in years and I didn’t shed a single tear.” You find yourself tearing up right now at the mere prospect of being able to remember Eddie happily. “Mark is a good guy because he said at the end of the date, I was clearly not ready to date again but I did need to talk about him. He was right. Steve, I want to talk about Eddie again.”

“Holy shit. If I knew sending you out on a date would’ve pulled that trigger, I would’ve taken you out years ago,” he jokes.

There’s a knock on your door, Nadine wanting to know if she could come back in. You call her in and turns out she had a package. “Hey, this just came in the mail for you.”

“I actually called to talk to you about that. I found something I’ve been looking for and I sent it to you the moment I got my hands on it. Take good care of it, will ya?”

“But Steve, you haven’t even told me what it is.” You protest, holding the package delicately, noting it was compact but had some weight to it.

“You’ll know.”

He hangs up, letting the mystery of the package settle in. “What did he say?” Nadine asked, already had checked the return address from Steve.

“Just that he’s been looking for it and I’ll know when I see it.”

“Then open it!”

You shrug, following her orders, using the tab at the top of the plastic to rip it open. As soon as you pull the light blue denim out, you’re hit with a wave of emotions.

Holy shit. His vest he lent to Steve. “For your modesty.”

You hold it out in front of you, and the brown tint to it tells you Steve didn’t even wash it. You breathe it in, and a smell you have long forgotten hits your nose, and you wondered how it stayed all this time. “Smells just like him.” You mutter, giving Nadine a teary smile. “I thought I’d never be able to smell him again.”

That night, you end up exchanging funny stories from high school. The relief cascaded you as you both laid on your beds staring at the ceiling because you were finally able to tell stories about it without feeling like the earth was being ripped open. Thank God.

Spring Break was right around the corner, and as you told everyone you were coming home, most were hesitant on your decision, wondering if his death anniversary was a good time.

For once, you knew it was the right call. In fact, if the situation still seemed dire enough, you had no plans on returning to school and planned on giving Vecna the hell he deserved for wringing you through the grief that he did.

The road trip is a long one, but you had wanted to take it regardless.

Maybe you could even stop by Eddie’s grave. Visit Wayne. Whatever the occasion, you were somehow finally ready for it.

Home.

Please reblog/leave comments on what you thought I love reading them and they help support me.

Taglist: @emturtles @yourthebrokengirl @steeldaisies @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson

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bulletsforyourtrain · 10 months

Text

🍊🍋Bullet Train incorrect quotes ft. my oc pt. 2:

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

Part 2 with Ladybug this time lets goooo

.🍊.

Tangerine: How did none of you hear what I just said?!

Lemon: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Ladybug: I got distracted halfway through.

Felix: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

.🍊.

Tangerine: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.

Felix: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.

Everyone at the table: *silence*

Ladybug: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Lemon: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

.🍊.

Ladybug: I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter “s”.

Lemon: *looks over at Tangerine and Felix* Lemon: Is it “sexual tension”?

.🍊.

Felix: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess.

Lemon: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to?

Ladybug: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit.

Tangerine: Guys.

.🍊.

Felix: Tangerine! I can't do this stupid math!

Tangerine: What’s the math problem?

Felix: Well, we have to add the bed, subtract the clothes divide the legs, and hope we don’t multiply.

Lemon, covering Ladybug's ears, while Tangerine smacks Felix upside the head: Not going to lie that was hella smooth.

.🍊.

Tangerine: That's ridiculous, Felix doesn't have a crush on me.

Ladybug: Yes they do.

Lemon: Yes they do.

Felix: Yes I do.

.🍊.

Lemon: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Tangerine?

Tangerine: Ladybug, easily.

Ladybug, laughing: What the fuck, man.

Tangerine: Well, Felix would be too easy. They’d probably be into it.

Felix, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

.🍊.

Lemon: Ladybug, you'll be working with Tangerine and Felix.

Ladybug: Alright! My fantasy threesome!

Everyone else: *blank stares*

Ladybug: ...Of people on a team.

.🍊.

*after the Squad's plan goes horribly wrong*

Lemon: Now it seems we're back at square one-- finding the Son.

Felix: For the record, I already found him.

Ladybug: And you let him get away before we could have a meaningful conversation.

Felix: He stabbed me!

Tangerine: I'm surprised he waited this long, Felix. We've all had the urge.

.🍊.

Lemon: I sleep with a gun under my pillow.

Ladybug: I sleep with a knife.

Felix: Both of you are pathetic.

Lemon: Oh yeah? What do you sleep with?

Felix: Tangerine.

.🍊.

Ladybug: Wait, if baby oil dissolves condoms, what does it do to babies?

Tangerine: Believe it or not, babies and condoms are made of different materials.

Lemon: It’s like rock paper scissors. Baby oil defeats condom, baby defeats baby oil, condom defeats baby.

Felix: Rock also defeats baby.

.🍊.

Ladybug: Shh, here comes Tangerine!

Felix: Quick, Lemon, start talking about boring nerd stuff!

Lemon: You know, nerd culture is mainstream now, so when you use the word “nerd” derogatorily, it means you’re the one that’s out of the zeitgeist.

Felix: Yes, that’s perfect. Just like that.

.🍊.

Felix: Hi could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?

Ladybug: Microwave for 40 minutes.

Lemon: WHY WERE YOU MICROWAVING A LEMON?!

Ladybug: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells and I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges, but I didn’t own any pots…

Tangerine: Did you burn an orange too? HOW?!

Ladybug: Microwave for 40 minutes.

.🍊.

Felix: You're smiling. What happened?

Tangerine: What? Can't I smile just because I feel like it?

Lemon: Ladybug tripped and fell down the stairs today.

.🍊.

Lemon: Why are your tongues purple?

Felix: We had slushies. I had a blue one.

Tangerine: I had a red one.

Lemon: oh.

Lemon:

Lemon: OH.

Ladybug:

Ladybug: You drank eachothers slushies?

.🍊.

Lemon: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Tangerine: Not if they consent to it.

Felix: Depends on who your stabbing.

Ladybug: YES??!!?

.🍊.

Lemon: Made you all playlists!

Lemon: Tangerine, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Lemon: Ladybug, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Lemon: And Felix has the ABBA Gold album.

.🍊.

Tangerine: I love you.

Felix: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.

*Tangerine and Felix kiss passionately*

Lemon, to Ladybug: You owe me 20 dollars.

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine #ladybug bullet train #oc #tangerine x oc

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hopper-at-heart · 1 year

Text

Messages

Wayne looks past you at Eddie, letting the messages play...

Your cheeks burn, as you try to act unbothered by what you hear. Speaking over yet another desperate sounding message, Wayne says, "it only holds 60 Eddie. 60. Every time you go off with her," he nods in your direction,"I have to sit through 60 of these. When it fills up, it starts recording over everything else. What if the plant calls and needs me to come cover an extra shift, and I never hear it because I'm listening to these girls pitching woo, boy?"

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, looking at you.

You ignore him, looking at Wayne. "He's sorry, Wayne."

"Really Uncle Wayne, I didn't give out the number, I don't know how it keeps going around. I'll call Indiana Bell and get them to change it again tomorrow."

"And change the message back, too. I don't have any problem with that Metallica, but you have to remember we live in Hawkins, and no one wants that blasted in their ear when they have to talk to a machine. Can't you play something that won't have half the town chasing me with pitchforks?"

"Yes,sir."

"Now the two of you behave yourselves, and there's some tv dinners in the freezer. And she's to be outta here by 10."

As Wayne drives off, Eddie is already wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, his smell returning the rush of blood to your cheeks, and other places. You stop him, and step away from his embrace, leaving him with that sad puppy dog look on his face. Scrunching your nose up, you repeat his words, mostly, "I don't know how they get my number, the god of rock and roll must've passed it out, I'll get it changed again so the skanks can't find me."

He smirks with a half grin, and steps towards you, placing his hands on your face, "don't do that, you know they only want what they can't have, I'm with you, they'll eventually get tired of chasing me and find some other target, probably some jock or other meathead that is more their actual taste, and their parents will be thrilled to death, and they'll continue to tell everyone how innocent and sweet their tiny babies are."

You push him away again, "I still don't like it, they wouldn't be calling if they didn't think they had a shot.

"You are the only one that has a shot at anything. You are smart, you are funny, you are absolutely gorgeous, one might even say that you are the bee's knees," his grin turns into a full smile, that travels all the way to his eyes, as he begins making a buzzing sound and flittering his hands like wings. Before you can say anything, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms firmly around you and parting your lips with his tongue.

"What about dinner?" you halfheartedly say between kisses, to which he replies, "I know what I'm eating, it's hot fresh, and doesn't have to go in the microwave."

You both tumble to the floor, entwined and lost in the moment. Eddie throws down the Afghan that was draped over the couch, his mouth and hands exploring your body, the climax building like a wave from somewhere deep inside, by the time he is inside of you, you are riding out the aftermath of your first orgasm, and another is coming fast.

You awaken to the sound of the alarm on his clock radio, and absentmindedly slap at the snooze button, not ready to get up and leave him, but knowing that you will have hell to pay if you are out past curfew again, and not wanting to risk not being able to see him for weeks outside of school, where he plays the role he is delt, and is unable to be completely free in the moment as he is with you.

You hear Judas Priest singing, "Breaking the law, breaking the law," and you hit the snooze button again, just in time to hear Eddie say, "Wayne's not here, he's probably gone to bail me out again, you know what to do" (beep)

You laugh, "He's going to kill you."

"No he won't, I'm just keeping him on his toes. Besides, he only played those messages to embarrass me, and I think he likes you, thinks you're a good influence or something."

"Or something," you say, gathering your clothes from the floor.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie the freak munson #Eddie fanfic

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slaasherslut · 2 years

Text

Not so Incorrect Ava X Lester Quotes

@cries-in-latino and @rottent33th did these and I wanted to join in on the chaos. I had some quotes saved already so I figured id shove them all together.

Ava: Can you please be serious for five minutes? Lester: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

☾☾☾

Lester: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait. Ava: You and me!!! Lester, tearing up: Okay.

☾☾☾

Ava: Lester and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's- Lester: Sentences. Ava: Don't interrupt me.

☾☾☾

Ava and Lester skipping stones on lake Ava: It’s such a beautiful evening. Lester, whispering: Take that you fucking lake

☾☾☾

Ava: You love me, right, Lester? Lester: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

☾☾☾

Ava: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why. Lester: Only if you also don't ask why Lester: Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls Take your pick. Ava: Lester: Ava: This one is fine

☾☾☾

Ava: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve. Lester: I think you mean cards. Ava, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

☾☾☾some honourable mentions with the rest of the angels☾☾☾

Vincent: Why are Ava and Lester sitting with their backs to each other? Ellie: They had a fight. Vincent: Then why are they holding hands? Ellie: They get sad when they fight.

☾☾☾

Ava: How did none of you hear what I just said? Lester: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Percy: I got distracted about halfway through. Bo: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

☾☾☾

Ava: Dumbest scar stories, go! Ellie: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Percy: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Bo: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Lester: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Vincent: Vincent: I have emotional scars.

#ava walker oc #lester sinclair #house of wax #angels of ambrose au

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insperonjournal · 2 years

Text

Reasons Why People Prefer Reading About Science and Technology The Most.

News from the world’s science and technology latest updates point out that Science and Technology have made our life easy and much faster. Everything that we see around us is the gift of either science or technology. As a result, they have become inevitable in our everyday lives.

But according to the science and technology news today, the question remains, why do people like to read about science and technology so much? Now, anything that will help a person in daily life will be popular. As new inventions make life run smoothly, people like to know about advanced technologies and their uses. In the scenario, they end up reading more and more about science and technology.

The Need For A Comfortable Life

Technology news today shows that science and technology today have brought us microwaves, smartphones, cars, etc which made daily work like communicating, cooking, sleeping, and transportation easier and faster. This makes a huge change and difference in the lives of people. Technology is used in all everyday items such as door locks, floorboards, and furniture are also technologies that we are rarely aware of. These not only make lives easier but also save time and money.

The Gift of Information Technology

News about new technology comes with the help of the internet. The internet, give us tremendous knowledge in science and other materials. As well, we keep communicating with our friends and families via the internet. The Internet and its tools play a major role in areas like crowdsourcing, data mapping and visualization, and more. Technology is equally important in business because of transactions and other events that take place through the computer.

Developments In The Field Of Education

Science and technology made great contributions to the field of education. Scientific news about new technology allows us to make new observations. Scientific knowledge today allows us to provide solutions to practical problems, and make informed decisions. It provides us with options like electronic libraries, smart classes, e-books, multimedia devices, etc. Technological literacy, problem-solving, and critical thinking allow children to adjust to their learning.

Use In Treatment And Therapeutic Equipment

Science and technology news today says that science has made big contributions to health by providing treatments for different chronic diseases. Technological devices have much-improved care for patients. Technology helps to record the patients' real-time data and also instantly update their medical history. This will help in making their recovery less distressing and less painful. Today, we benefit from technology in receiving treatments through different methods and tools like CT scans, x-rays, MRI scans, surgical pacemakers, etc.

News from the world’s science and technology latest updates points out that the essence of science and technology is contributing to day-to-day life in society. Science and Technology have introduced people to the establishment of modern civilization as a whole. This development also contributes to almost every aspect of our life. Hence, people get a chance for enjoying these results of technology. This makes our lives more advanced.

Technology news today suggests that science and technology and the inventions in these fields make the world a better place. Scientific knowledge always teaches us to express our civic aspirations, responsibilities, and duties. Our desire here is to equally contribute to the world around us. Science and technology have today penetrated every aspect of our lives. It has changed the way we work, also how we learn, and even how we shop. In short, it is so inevitable in our lives that we can never ignore its contribution to our society and the world.

#News science and technology #Science and Technology News #science and tech

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roibot · 2 years

Text

I feel bad cause I properly YELLED at my supervisor today

We had IT in to look at everyones laptops, one of the senior managers was just back from maternity leave, I was training in someone - all in all it was really bustling and busy in the office - when my supervisor burst open the door

Shes’ standing in the doorway, shaking like a chihuahua and calling for the senior manager (who she adores btw and seems to think can solve any problem, ever) ‘Jen, Jen, Jen, the microwave. Jen the microwave. Jen. Jen. JEN JEN JEN. The microwave, Jen. Jen!! Jen! JEN!.’

Jen is flat out ignoring her (she does this a lot since coming back from maternity leave) and eventually I am sick of listening to this. so I turn around and ask supervisor is there anything I can help with

She looks at me like 0____0 and after a solid 5 seconds of eye contact whimpers ‘The microwave...’

I get up (I’m breaking in a new pair of Docs and have massive blisters all over my ankles - ‘Geriatric Hobble’ is currently my top speed) and go over to the office doorway.

The second I poke my head out into the hallway, I realise just how much of a hubbub there is in the office today . Apparently we’ve managed to drown out the sound of a small plane taking off, which seems to be reverberating through the rest of the building

I literally can’t even describe this noise. As soon as I entered the hallway it filled up my ears and started bouncing around my skull. It’s loud, mettalic, throbbing, humming - I look at my supervisor, who confirms -in the voice of a small child fretting about a monster under the bed -: ‘It’s the microwave...’

This is where I yell.

Forgetting for a second that a) there are still customers in the building and we should be professional and b) this is my supervisor and I should be professional, I shout (in a baritone I didn’t know I was capable of): ‘TURN IT OFF - NOW!!’

(microwaves, for the record, should not make this noise)

Supervisor looks at me, on the verge of tears. She won’t go into the kitchen. It’s scary.

Tbh, I get it. I’m pretty certain if I go into the kitchen, I’m going to die of microwave radiation. Possibly microwave explosion, at this point. But in an act of selfless heroism, I decide someones got to do something, and run into the kitchen.

The microwave is billowing clouds of acrid smoke, which is honeslty slightly a relief. I thought it might be billowing flames, or sparks. Bracing myself to be electrocuted and die, I reach through the smoke to unplug the microwave. I accidentaly unplug the kettle instead. Bracing myself to be electrocuted and die, again, I reach through the smoke again, to unplug the microwave.

The microwave is finally off and the noise stops. The kitchen is full of smoke.I’m in full problem solving mode now and snapping at my supervisor like a drill seargant. Close the kitchen door so no customer can see us! Open all the windows! Waft away the smoke! ONLY once the windows are open and we’re confident air is ciruclating through the room will we open the microwave door and air it out!

Supervisor is standing stock still , initally in the kitchen doorway but finally comes inside and stands in the middle of the floor. Another team member, who was walking past and heard the commotion, helps me open the windows and clear the smoke.

We open the microwave and I realise why it caught fire - there’s nothing inside.

‘Never run a microwave with nothing in it!’ I’m not exactly yelling, but I don’t say it calmly, that’s for sure.

‘Jen said to test the appliances...’ Supervisor explains sadly.

‘Test it with a cup of water or something.You basicaly made a bomb! Don’t you know how microwaves work?!’

The team member who stopped to help me is cracking up.

I appreciate her help but send her away as quickly as possible - she get’s migraines and I don’t want the smoke or anything to trigger one. Supervisor watches us work and only as the other staff member leaves do I realise she has basically barely moved a muscle, and still has her ‘frightened chihuahua’ vibe.

This is when I start to feel bad. I apologise, say I’m sorry for yelling and snapping. I didn’t mean it, I just got a fright cause I thought there was going to be a fire or something. I ask did she also get a fright, and is she ok? Supervisor finally moves - runs over to give me a big hug. I pat her on the back for a long time.

We go back into the office once we’ve made sure everything is safe. Jen, without looking up from her laptop, asks vaguely ‘Were you calling me?’

#also we got an email today saying not to use the microwave and they were goint to throw it away and get a new one #because it was 'having issues' - but I think supervisor never told management she ran it on empty and that was the cause of said issues #I'm not gonna throw her under the bus #but I did have a good giggle/eye rolling session with my work bestie about it #btw in case anyone thinks this is mean spirited I absolutely adore my supervisor #turly hope if either of us ever leave this job we remain friends - she is a darling #this is just the latest in a series of events that make me feel like I'm slighlty babysitting some of the team #like hello?? amn't I a junior co-rodinator?? Congrats to me for the promotion but would love if it came with a pay rise

0 notes

evandarya · 2 years

Text

Ghosts Don't go to High School

{Read on AO3} {Chapter 5}

Chapter 6

Tim likes lists. When things get overwhelming, lists help him organize his thoughts into easy-to-accomplish tasks. So, after his encounter with the meta, with Phantom, Tim makes a list.

1. Find out who Phantom is.

2. Find out who Cindy is.

3. Find out who the Ancients are.

Okay, so it's not the best list, but it's a list.

"You let the meta get away again." A voice echoed through the cave.

"Shut up, Damian."

"This is the third time. Are you that much of an idiot that you can't catch a single meta?"

"I found out his name. What have you found out about him?" Tim challenged.

"Tt. It's not like his name has been helpful." Damian said, going back to the mats.

Tim hated that the demon brat was right. There was no record of a Phantom mentioned anywhere. Not one picture, video, or even a blog post mentioning the meta. It was suspicious. Someone was hiding Phantom, but until he could figure out who, he'd have to move on.

Cindy was marginally easier. There was a Cynthia Howe who was reported among the missing in the apartment complex fire six years ago. Her mother, Michelle, had died in the fire. Her father, Cole, was in jail serving a life sentence.

As far as Tim could tell, Cynthia's body was never recovered. And yet, Phantom had said she was a ghost. The ghost of a little girl who missed her mommy.

After a little digging Tim came away with a plot number and a plan of sorts. All he needed to do now was implement it. He stood up quickly and had to sit back down again as the world tilted around him. Right. He hadn't slept since he woke up late on Saturday.

"Master Tim? Are you still down here?" Alfred called from the stairs leading to the manor.

"Yes, Alfred. I was just about to head out."

"Perhaps," Alfred said after a second of observing him. "It would be better to stay the night here. It is almost a quarter to three."

Tim tried and failed to suppress a jaw-cracking yawn. Perhaps it would be better to stay here. He'd get to grab one of Alfred's egg sandwiches for breakfast.

"Alright, Alfred. I think you're right."

The pleased smile, small though it was, was not missed. "Indeed."

Right before Tim settled into sleep he wondered if Danny would like Alfred's egg sandwiches, too.

***

Alfred drove Tim to school the next day. He was taking Damian to the middle school across the street anyway, and saying 'no' to Alfred when he uses logic is impossible. But he does get to enjoy his egg sandwich and coffee on the way. Alfred didn't say anything when he grabbed two from the freezer and popped them into the microwave.

The drive to school was quiet. Damian didn't speak to him, which was a nice change of pace to their usual spats. He had been hanging out with Jon Kent, and the other boy had been good for mellowing out his little brother. Tim wondered if it was a little bit of Ma Kent's influence, as well.

In any case, the ride to school was almost pleasant. Tim spent it staring out the window sipping his coffee. As they drove through the Bowery he was distracted by a familiar purple backpack and red hoodie.

"Is there something wrong?" Alfred asked from the front seat.

"That's my lab partner, Danny." He said, "in the red hoodie." He added unnecessarily since Danny was alone on the sidewalk. Alfred pulled the car over toward the sidewalk. "What are you doing?"

"There is no sense making the young man take public transportation if we are heading in the same direction. Invite him to ride with us."

Tim blinked once before rolling down the window and calling out. "Danny." Danny's head swiveled around and when he spotted Tim a bright smile spread across his face.

"Hey, Tim. What's up?" Danny said, crossing over to the car, and taking headphones out of his ears.

"Do you want a ride to school?" Tim asked. He heard Damian scoff something about 'picking up strays' but he ignored him.

"Sure! Thanks." Danny said. Tim popped the door open and slid over to make room for Danny to clamber in after him. "Hey! Damian. Nice to see you again." He said when he spotted him in the front seat, Damian only answered with a click of his tongue.

"Hello, Daniel. I'm Alfred. As soon as everyone is buckled we can go."

"Oh, sorry Alfred. Thanks for the ride." Danny said, securing his buckle.

"So, do you live around here?" Tim asked. For some reason that caused Danny to laugh.

"Yeah, up on Ellis," Danny said, grinning. “I’m guessing you don’t.”

“No, well, I usually stay at my apartment in Somerset, but I stayed at the Manor last night in Bristol.” Tim said. “oh, I brought something for you.” he said, pulling the second egg sandwich out of his lunch bag. “Alfred makes these amazing egg sandwiches. I thought you might like it.”

“Wow, coffee yesterday, and breakfast this morning?” Danny said, accepting the sandwich. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Can we cease the incessant chatter?” Damian demanded from the front seat. “I, for one, prefer to begin my day in peace.”

Danny cleared his throat as a blush crept up his neck and stared out the window.

They rode the rest of the way to the school in silence except for Danny telling Alfred how good the sandwich was. Damian was dropped off first, and then Tim and Danny were driven across the street to the high school. They split up for their first class, and Tim was in a great mood for most of the morning. It was as he was heading to lunch that things started to go bad.

“Hey, Fenton!” Tim paused putting his books in his locker and looked around. He didn’t see Danny, but Alex Duncan must have. There was a crowd forming down the hall, and he could see Alex’s red hair among the crowd. Tim crept closer to the crowd, wary but ready to jump in if necessary. The crowd was surrounding Danny and Alex, blocking all escape routes. From where Tim was standing he had a pretty good view of the scene. Danny had his back against the wall, lockers at his back, and Alex was standing close enough that he could probably grab him without too much effort.

“Saw you getting out of Wayne’s car this morning,” Alex said. “You’re spending a lot of time with him?”

“What are you talking about, Duncan? I’ve never even met Wayne.” Danny said, adjusting the straps on his backpack.

“I saw you at the coffee shop with his kids. It won’t be long before you’re one of ‘em.” Duncan said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Tim felt anger building in his chest as the crowd laughed. He had heard the rumors that people had spread when Bruce had taken in Dick, and again with Jason. He thought that kind of talk had died.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny asked, a dangerous quality to his voice.

“Just that Wayne has a type and a pretty little thing like you? Well, let's just say you’ll fit right in.” Alex said with a smirk.

Danny went eerily still. Tim wasn’t sure he was even breathing. His eyes flicked to Tim’s for a second, searching for something, before going back to Alex. “You think I’m pretty?”

“What? What are you, some kind of fag?” Alex said with disgust.

“You’re the one who called me pretty,” Danny said, a feral grin stretching across his face. “Which, I’m flattered, but you aren’t my type. I prefer guys with two brain cells to rub together.”

The crowd 'oohed at that. Alex’s face twisted in anger. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your nose.”

“I will end you!” Alex yelled. Tim saw it happen as if in slow motion. Alex threw a right hook, Danny flinched, and the punch landed squarely on Danny’s cheek. His nose immediately began to bleed. Danny’s feral smile became even more sinister as blood dripped down his face and onto his jacket. Alex reared back for another blow when Tim stepped forward and put a hand on Alex’s arm.

“That’s enough, Alex.”

“What is going on here?” the Vice Principal’s voice echoed down the hall. The crowd scattered, leaving Danny, Alex, and Tim square in his sights. “Come with me, the three of you.”

Vice Principal McBride said.

Danny, instead of following Mr. McBride, headed in the opposite direction.

"Mr. Fenton, where do you think you're going?"

"To the bathroom. I don't feel like bleeding all over my jacket." Danny said without turning around.

Mr. McBride mumbled something before turning to Tim. "Mr. Drake, would you keep an eye on him? And bring him to the office when he gets that under control."

Tim headed after Danny with a nod. He found the other boy in the first boy's room he came across. Danny had a wad of paper towels pressed against his face, already soaking through with red. There were splatters of blood on the counter and darker splotches of red on Danny's red jacket.

"Danny? You okay?" Tim asked, taking in his shaking hands.

Danny met his eyes in the mirror and nodded. "Yeah, it's not the first time I’ve been punched in the face. Won't be the last.” Danny pulled the paper towel away from his face and cursed as blood dripped into the sink. "Hey, in my backpack is a red first aid kit, can you grab it?" He asked, wadding up some more paper towels.

"Yeah, sure," Tim said, unzipping the bag. He found the kit easily enough, since it was about the size of a lunch box, and handed it to Danny. He opened it one-handed and pulled out a nasal spray. Danny stuck one end up the nostril and pressed down, his face scrunching up in discomfort. When he pulled the device out, though, the bleeding had stopped.

"What is that?" Tim asked as Danny cleaned the tip with an alcohol swab.

"It's a styptic spray. It stops bleeding, but it burns like hell." Danny put the spray back into the kit and closed it before washing the blood from his hands and face. "Do you know how to get blood out of clothes?"

"Uh, no. I could ask Alfred." Alfred could get anything out of anything.

"Right. 'cause that wouldn't be a concerning text to get in the middle of the day." Danny snorted. "I'm guessing McBride sent you to come and get me?"

"Yeah. He wants us to go to the office." Danny put the first aid kit back into his bag and tossed the bloody paper towels into the trash.

"Right," Danny said, holding the door open for Tim. They started walking back to the office.

"So, you're gay?" Tim asked awkwardly after a minute.

"That's what you're worried about?" Tim shifted awkwardly. "No, Not exactly." Danny said "I like guys and girls. I think Pan describes it best." Danny stuck his hands in his jacket pocket.

"And your parents...when you came out..." Tim trailed off, unsure where the sentence was going to go.

"I didn't exactly come out. When Jazz brought home her first boyfriend, she didn't have to have a conversation about it. So when I brought home a boy for the first time... I didn't realize coming out was something people had to do. I didn't know anyone had a problem with it until Dash's parents freaked out when they caught us holding hands."

“What happened?”

“Well, Dash didn’t want to play with me anymore. He’s a lot like Duncan now.” Danny said, shrugging his shoulders. "So far in the closet that he's almost in Narnia." Danny was quiet for a minute before he spoke up again. “What he said wasn’t true, right? About Wayne?”

“No, of course not,” Tim said. “Bruce would rather die than hurt a kid like that.” Danny nodded. They had reached the office and the secretary waved them through into the vice principal's office. Alex was already there, arms crossed over his chest.

"Now that we are all here." Mr. McBride began. "We can discuss what happened. As you are all aware, Gotham Academy has a zero-tolerance policy for fighting. So you will each be receiving a three-day suspension."

"What?!" Danny half yelled.

"Mr. Fenton. Please…"

"No, I will not!" Danny was on his feet now. "I get assaulted in your school, and I get suspended?"

"It's school policy for everyone involved in the fight to receive the same punishment."

"I'm on scholarship! If I get suspended, I lose it. How's it fair that the guy who assaulted me gets three days off, and I lose my scholarship?"

"The school has nothing to do with your scholarship."

"And Tim didn't even do anything, except try and stop the fight. He shouldn't get punished for that!"

"Mr. Fenton." Mr. McBride stood up quickly, apparently done with being shouted down at. "That is enough. The punishment stands as is. Now, the three of you will go out to the front office and wait for your guardians to come to get you."

Alex was the first to leave the room, practically bolting out the door. Tim stood, but Danny was still staring Mr. McBride down as if he were trying to set him on fire with his eyes. Then, Danny let out a long breath and turned around sharply, and marched out the door, Tim following behind him.

It took ten minutes for Bruce to get to the school. When he walked into the office his eyes zeroed in on Tim, surreptitiously checking for injuries. "Are you alright, Tim? They said you were in a fight."

"I'm fine," Tim said, waving away Bruce's concern. "I tried to stop a fight."

"Then, why are you in trouble?"

Danny snorted. "The school has a zero-tolerance policy."

Bruce eyed Danny's cheek, which was already starting to bruise, and the dried blood that he hadn't managed to clean off with the school's cheap paper towels. Then to Alex's bruised knuckles, no doubt putting the scene together from context clues.

"Wait here, I'm going to have a chat with the Vice Principal." Bruce disappeared into the office.

"Alright, I'm out," Danny said, standing up and heading out the door.

"What? You can't go." Tim said, chasing after him. "Danny, wait." Tim reached out and grabbed his jacket, holding him in place. "What about your parents?"

"They're at work. They won't be able to check their phones until around six tonight. I'm not staying here until then." Danny said. "Your dad will get you off suspension, so I'm going home." Danny tugged his jacket out of Tim's grasp and headed out of the school.

Danny had been correct about Bruce getting his suspension lifted, and an apology from the Vice Principal to boot. No one mentioned Danny's disappearance.

Tim started a new list on the ride home.

1. Get Alex Duncan expelled

2. Make sure Danny doesn't lose his scholarship.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dc comics #crossover #fanfic #lab partners #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #danny fenton/tim drake #brain dead

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