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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 4 years

Note

Hi, I see that you are taking NSFW requests. Would I be able to request a Johnny/fem!V size kink smut? (i.e. V suddenly realizes that Johnny was *not* exaggerating about his 'impressive cock.' :p )

Sorry that I took so damn long to answer but here is your request, I hope you enjoy it and yeah you guys can send in asks, I just take a while sometimes or have to have the inspiration to do some of your asks so ask away!

"Are you picky or just broke? Fucking pick a joytoy V, it's annoying as fuck watching you get all jittery and nervous about a fucking joytoy of all things." Johnny moaned, letting his head repeatedly hit against the dark red brick wall, pure black glasses resting upon his nose and a sour expression that never failed to somewhat put V in a shitty mood. "Just don't want the night to be shittier than ever or just plain boring but even then don't wanna be fucking crazy with whips and shit. So yeah I'm picky." V responds, shoving her hands into her pockets as her feet move forwards, the heavy smell of musk, greasy food, and motor oil the familiar and disgusting smell that could only roam in Night City. V's lustful desires had of course gotten the best of her and here she was lurking on Jig-Jig street, bright contrasting lights, the smell of cheap latex, and the odor of sex just lingers at the end of every scent. Fake smiles. Fake happiness. And fake desire. But a true and even more real need for money. That was Jig-Jig street described for V in one sentence, licking her lips her eyes move to see joytoy of all sorts on the street, all eyeing her and grinning. "Too fucking picky ... you either want vanilla sex or you want kinky ass sex, can't have both V. Not like you'll find someone able to leave you sore in the mornin' ... wake up thinkin' of nothing but him and his cock. Hm ..." Johnny groans, his voice rumbling deeply at the end as V can feel his gaze upon her and the implications that she thought he was making, ugh. "I know you're not talking about yourself ... from what I saw that was some piss poor sex you gave Alt, no wonder she was pissed as all hell, Johnny." V teases, smirking devilishly at Johnny, his grin had disappeared into a bitter expression that almost matched her at the beginning of the night. "My partners aren't ex-cops and corpo-cunts, besides none of your partners will ever compare to me or mine, hell out of all of your partners I know I have the biggest cock out of all em'." Johnny chuckled, his laugh comes out confident and prideful, V lets a scoff part her lips and she crosses her arms and it's like her body does a full eye-roll at his words. "Oh yeah, the impressive cock that takes up so little space in those stupid leather pants of yours." V chuckles, grinning from ear to ear as she watches his grin fade away and almost like his ego was beginning to shatter. "Then why the fuck you staring at my dick so much, V? Perverted much or just horny for me?" Johnny questions, crossing his arms and glitching right beside her with a devilish smirk that she wanted to wipe off his lips, the asshole actually made her question if he had this "impressive cock". "Just simply curious if you're full of shit or if you're not lying to me," V responds, a hum at the end of her words as her eyes turn to him and she stops herself at the side of an empty closed store near an alleyway.

"Did you not see enough of my memories to know or do I have to prove you wrong, darlin' ...?" Johnny chuckles, his words are smooth and sound like a purr to V's ears as he leans right beside her, a heavy and wide grin on his lips as his glasses remain sitting on the bridge of his nose. " ... I'll do it myself ... know that you think of me more than you should, darlin' ..." V purrs and when she says his affectionate nickname she forces her voice to become deeper and winks at him with a smirk curled up onto her lips, Johnny chuckles, running the tip of his tongue around the ring of his lips. "Then why don't you do something about it, merc ...? Impress me ... show me what you feel for me, darlin' ... " Johnny purrs, his eyes burning into her own as he turns to meet her eyes, he can see the slight blush that clouds V's cheeks as she crosses her arms before standing up straight as Johnny glitches out of her view. V's eyes meet a nearby club with many people dancing, drinking, and just enjoying themselves but what V really wanted to do was get on that dance floor, wanted to give him a show. The club is decently sized, it's cozy and full of warm colors such as reds, blacks, and oranges and the overall vibe just felt warm and sensual. V grins to herself, making her way into the club as she pushes through the amount of the people drinking, making out, and getting high out of their minds. She manages to finally make it onto the dance floor and waits for a good song to blast throughout the club in which V proceeds to smirk to herself, hoping and praying that Johnny was watching her because she was gonna put on a show for him. Johnny glitches into the world and is found leaning against one of the crowed walls with arms crossed but his eyes remained glued to the sight of V, to the filthily sensual show V was putting on for him. His eyes explored her figure, where her hands moved all over her body, and not to mention she was wearing a short red silk dress that fit her like a glove, her legs were just amazing and the urge to have his head in between her thighs came almost immediately. He felt his mouth salivate and his breath stopped right in his throat, hazel brown eyes remained locked onto her and the way she swayed her hips to the music. How a warm smile remained on her warm and luscious looking lips, the way her hands explored her figure, her hands move up to her breasts as she feels and clutches at the silk that covered her body. Oh, fuck ...

Spinning her heels, she begins to sway and grind her hips in a slow motion and her hands go back to exploring her figure, her hands run up to her neck as she can imagine the metal arm against her throat, she can imagine his metal fingers against her lips. "Hot damn ... I didn't know that my sweet little merc could be a little succubus ..." Johnny purrs, a chuckle rumbles at the end of his sentence as a devilish grin curls onto his lips and he takes his glasses off, V could feel his lustful gaze upon her body. V can feel his eyes on her body and V can already feel pride bubbling up in their body, even going as far as to raise her silk dress showing more of her smooth thighs before her eyes fluttered closed. V let the music take control of her body, swaying her hips to the music and she let the beat inspire her body to move to its beat, she can feel the eyes of other men on her, ugh she groans in her mind. All V wanted was his eyes on her, other men usually just see her as another fleshlight, as something to use for their own ecstasy. Johnny knew how to share it with the women he was interested in, sex with him was always something between equals no matter who you were, that's what he saw sex as. Something to enjoy, to relish in. It's not long before V can feel a pair of familiar hands resting upon her hips, his fingers are there yet they're not almost like the feeling of cool air against your skin. The aroma and the strong scent of nicotine wafted around the air, liquor clung heavily to his form, his lips bury themselves against the skin of V's neck, he inhales in her warm, human scent. She smelt sweet enough not to cloud his senses with whatever scent clung to her smooth skin, grinning warmly into her skin he lets his hands move up to her waist as he leads her body to his waist, to his hips. "A- ..." V nearly yelps, eyes slightly jump at the surreal sensation of his hips pressed against hers, she can feel his arousal pressing against her behind. "Slowly. ... Take your time, V. Hmm ... you feel that? Don't lie." Johnny purrs right in her ear, she can feel his heavy breaths against her cool skin, licking her lips a familiar warmth plagues the pit of her stomach, and butterflies crowd her stomach with hormones and sweetness.

"I can ... woah ... that's all you? Shit ..." V gasps in a short breath but bites her tongue before those stupid words can fall from her quick tongue, she can feel him all against her body, he's thick and lengthy. She can imagine he's nearly bursting in those leather pants of his, she finds herself imagining the mere sight of him in front of her, throbbing, eager, and selfishly hers. She's never been one to be selfish over someone but she'll be damned if she doesn't allow herself to indulge herself in him, indulge herself in whatever comes next for them. She grinds her hips against his, slowly swaying them against his eager hips that follow the movements of her own, both of them are eager to see where this goes. Both of them are eager to see each other's bodies, to admire their bodies, and to indulge in physical ecstasy. "Teasing me, are you ...? Come on, V ... be selfish and be greedy. Let's be greedy and selfish for one pitiful night, V. I know you want to." Johnny purrs, rugged slurred words entice her and her greedy need for him inside of her, her greedy need to have him and him alone. Turning around and snapping her gaze onto him, her eyes are hazed with lust and greed and become dark with need, her cheeks are flushed and she's moving her arms around his waist, she needs him. He needs her. She finds herself leaning swiftly into his lips, devouring and indulging in her need for him as her entire body is on overdrive, her entire body is bursting with adrenaline and it's getting hard to control it. Groaning into her lips, the warm feeling of her lips against his is a sensation he's missed, a sensation he's craved for a long time. His hand slips behind her neck as she devours his lips, her tongue parts his lips and they dance together sloppily and erratically. Moaning against his lips, V's hand rests and lingers against his bearded cheeks as they indulge in the ecstasy of the human body. Moments later, V pulls away with brightly flushed cheeks and slow yet heavy breaths leaving her heavy lungs. Everything is pulsating in her body with need, her heart, she hates how he can turn her into a puddle of mush with his words, with such ease. And he knew it too. "Ain't gonna make it home. The bathroom is the best place right now, V ... not the best or ideal ... but I'm gonna take real good care of you. Just watch." Johnny purrs, a devilish smirk resting upon his lips and a hand resting upon his hip before he glitches out of your view with a short chuckle leaving his lips. V's teeth grind against her bottom lip as she acknowledges how soaked her panties are, how he's made her feel and it's so humiliating but so embarrassingly arousing. V rubs her lips and quickly makes her way to the nearby bathroom across the club, she licks her lips and shuts the door behind her. The bathroom is fine for a public one but still has your fair share of beer bottles, bright blinding lights, and drunk passed out people in one of the stalls. "The stall ... not willing to it in front of some drunk girl," Johnny states in V's head and teleports into the slightly ajar stall, a smirk waltzing at his lips and wide legs with a heavy bulge in between his thighs, she could clearly the outline of it.

"Perv ... not that I don't mind you staring though ... just wanna hear you admit that you were wrong about my cock, V. Or are you still too stubborn to admit that ...?" Johnny taunts her, his words smooth with an edge that clings off every one of his words, he was such an ass but there was that part of her that valued that about him. "Keep the snark to a minimum or I swear to god Johnny-" V goes on, crossing her arms before Johnny chuckles and breaks her line of words. "Or what ...? Come on, darlin' ... come see my impressive cock. Admire it." Johnny purrs, words slurred and husky yet so ... commanding as he sits there, eager for her to give him some affection, and in return, he'd prove her wrong. V lets a heavy breath leave her parted lips before she enters the somewhat crowded stall with Johnny, she licks her lips before engaging in another heated kiss with the construct. "Mmh ..." Johnny groans, relishing in the sensations of her lips against his, he rests his metal hand upon her chin and he stares up at her, devilish dark eyes eager and prideful like always. "Don't you wanna see it?" Johnny purrs, hinting that she could always refuse if things were getting weird but V wanted him and he wanted her, it's very simple and yet so complicated. "I do." V strongly states before positioning herself on her knees, her mouth salivating at the mere thought of him in her mouth, she begins to undo his belt and she swiftly unzips his pants and her eyes slightly widen. Woah. Goddamn. He goes commando of course but it's there. It's pale with a flushed rosy head, veins all pumping through his lengthy leaking cock eager for any kind of warmth, he's grinning devilishly as he watches her expression of shock and slight amazement. Licking her lips once more, she wraps her entire hand around his cock, her hands look so small compared to his thick meaty cock and she moves her hand up and down and is still in amazement at how he hid it. She strokes his thick leaking cock, her eyes remain fixated on the mere sight of his cock that she can barely wrap her fingers around. His heavy lashes flutter close as he can feel sparks flood through him, he can feel her hand travel from the base of his cock down to his untamed bush of black curly hair. A short hum exited his throat as V continues to stroke his thick and lengthy cock, she continues to do so for a few moments before running her to along the sides. A shiver travels up his spine and the mere sensation of her warm moist tongue gently pressed against the sides of his throbbing cock, her curled thick eyelashes rested upon her eyelids, he watches as they flutter with the movements of her eyes. V's eyes remain fixated on the sight before her, she slowly runs her tongue along the sides before her eyes drift upwards to meet his, her eyes are gazing into his, the pure lust that clouds them is just plain arousing and tantalizing. "Fuck ...~" Johnny gasps, the heavenly curse falling from his sinful lips as he can feel V's lips wrapped around the head of his throbbing erect cock. Oh, Christ ...

"Hah ... V ... that's it ... oh, fuck just ..." Johnny groans, a short series of deep groans rumble from his throat at the warmth that consumes him, the warmth that sparks ecstasy that shoots through him like fireworks. V can feel Johnny's hands entangle themselves in her hair, running his thick ringed fingers through her locks of hair as she continues to softly suck on the throbbing flesh in between her lips. Earning groans and grunts of approval that only encouraged her to make him fucking moan her name, moaning she wraps her hand around his length, stroking and massaging the area. "Fuck ..." Johnny curses in a shallow breath, jolts and nerves of pure ecstasy course through him, it's been so fucking long since he's had someone, it's been so long since he's had the affection of anyone. He's a bastard. Selfish one at that. He's greedy and drunk off the touches V gives him, the mere sensation of her warm moist lips wrapped around him, the familiar sight of lust-filled eyes, eyes that darkened with an urge. Clutching at her locks for a few moments, his hands move down to her face, wrapping and placing themselves on her warm cheeks, caressing and gently stroking at her skin. "Take more of it. Take it all." Johnny growls in a ragged breath, greedy for more, and V is willing to indulge in his urges if he returns the favor. "Mmh ... patience, Johnny-boy ..." V purrs, his cock out of her lips before she wraps her lips back around the head of his cock before lowering her mouth even lower on his already generously sized cock. She can fill his cock, fill her throat almost entirely but she devotes herself to making him release so she does so, slowly bobbing her head up and down as she can feel tears swell in her eyes. Gripping his thighs firmly, she firmly shuts her eyes before firmly sucking on the throbbing pulsating flesh penetrating her mouth the reactions from Johnny are worth it though. The way his expression twists in pleasure, how he gnaws at his lips at the ecstasy that overwhelms him almost entirely and leaves him vulnerable to V, the way he runs his fingers through his hair before planting his fists in her hair. He's now clutching firmly at her hair, a smirk plastered on his lips as heavy breaths leave his lips along with ragged moans that fell uncontrollably from his lips. "Oh, shit ... hah ... oh, christ ..."

Suddenly he pushes her head off of his cock, pulling her swiftly into a heated kiss for a few moments, sharing a few moments of bliss before he's pulling away from her lips, eyes unable to look anywhere but her wondrous eyes. "On top, V." Johnny says, ushering her to his lap and V listens straddling his lap with her hands resting upon his shoulders and his hands slither their way down to her hips. It's not even a minute before you can feel his thick calloused fingers caress and circle around her throbbing clit, his fingers caress the sensitive nerve earning a whimper from her. He's talented with his fingers alright, he knows how to move his fingers around her clit, rubbing his fingers in continuous circles had her shuddering on his lap, gnawing at her lips, and falling prey to the heavenly sensations that shot through her. "Ugh, Johnny ..." V shudders, she can feel him bury his face into her neck, peppering multiple kisses all over her skin and it's not a minute before he sinks his fingers into her sopping, soaking heat. Moving his fingers lightly in and out of her, he's trying to prepare her for what's to come, she can feel his fingers glide without ease in and out of her before he curls his fingers into her sweet spot. "That's it ...! Hah ... fuck, oh fuck ..." V repeatedly curses, ragged breaths soon falling from lips she grinds her hips against his fingers, aching and racing to finish. "Patience, princess," Johnny mumbles into her skin before sucking firmly on her neck, leaving V breathless and gasping as she clutches firmly onto Johnny her thighs tremble and everything is throbbing with a need. "Hypocrite ... just ... mmh ... keep going." V pants, her words are slurred and she's nearly humping Johnny's hand as his fingers move almost perfectly in her, gliding at the perfect pace and he's hitting her sweet spot just right. Why hadn't she fucked him earlier? Ugh. "Fuck ...!", his fingers repeatedly hit and curl against her sweet spot, his fingers are now sliding swiftly into her and without much care. Her body is shuddering in bliss, her thighs tremble against him, her heart's pounding like a drum in her chest, and everything at this moment is perfect for her. "Really thought I was gonna let you cum, princess?" Johnny teases, his fingers slip out of her as he turns his attention towards her and a devilish grin rests upon his lips before his fingers enter his lips and he licks her juices clean off his fingers. "Wanted to keep you ... pleased enough to wait for the real fuckin' show ... to show you what it's all about fucking Johnny Silverhand." Johnny grins devilishly, firmly smacking V's ass earning a yelp from her before he's ripping V's panties off of her body, greedy to feel her on top of his cock, eager to feel that warmth you can't get anywhere but from a human. He missed being ... alive. Being human.

"Could've said that first asshole ..." V pouts, her eyes roll away from his as she wraps her arms around his neck, she can feel him rub himself in between her soaked slit, sucking in a breath he pushes V's hips down onto his large throbbing cock. "Oh, fuck ..." The words fall from your lips sinfully well, fullness and almost a complete sensation washes over her, her cheeks are flushed and almost as warm as the sun. She's so lovely. Johnny thinks to himself, his hands caress her waist and his dark brown eyes fixate on hers, and a weight is lifted off of V's shoulders. Peace. She inhales, taking in a breath before she begins to grind and roll her hips back and forth against his lap, heaviness fills her lungs as a whine slowly rolls off her tongue. Groaning, he rests his cool silver hand against her cheek, cupping and shaping his hand to outline her jaw before his fingers gently caress her flushed warm cheeks, her eyes flutter close as she bites her tongue. "Fuck ... you're .... so fucking ... big." V whines, sucking in a breath as he stretches her warm silky walls and fills all the space inside of her to the point she feels more than full, but the way another whine slips from her lips tells him she's enjoying it. "Told you so ... didn't I, doll?" Johnny huffs, a chuckle coughing out at the end of his words before he wraps his fingers around her throat earning a gasp from the woman above him, her eyes widen for a moment before she wraps her hands around his arm. "Don't make love to me. .... I'm begging you to fuck me." V grins devilishly at the man underneath her, she begins to move her hips up and down, taking in all of him inside of her with ease and bliss boiling up inside of her. His hand slips away from her throat for a moment before he decides "fuck it" and wraps his hand around her throat once more, lightly squeezing against her throat, a gasp falls from her lips once more before his name falls from her lips. "Johnny ..." It sounds so sinful, so sweet, so arousing, the way she says his name, his body perks up at the sound and it's not long before he's chuckling devilishly and gazing intensely into her eyes. The pure lust, the bliss, everything that he was feeling she could see clouded in his dark brown eyes, the way he gazed into her eyes set her body ablaze with bliss. Fuck it, she wastes no time in slamming her hips down onto his lap, his throbbing cock curls into her sweet spot, repeatedly hitting it and sending waves of bliss shooting and bursting through her. Groaning at the ecstasy that pulsates and throbs through him, he pulls her in by the throat and firmly entangles her into a sloppy kiss that has saliva on the sides of V's mouth. "Johnny ..." V moans once more, slamming and throwing her hips down onto his throbbing cock, she's so full and his cock is all that taints her mind. "Hah ..." Heavy breaths and low murmurs of his name are the only things that roll off her tongue, his hand trails down from her neck to her breasts that move along with the motions of her body. He squeezes her breast and can see the way she shys away from him, turning her head away from his gaze as she continues to ride him, chasing and aching for sweet release. It's not far ...

"Goddamn V ..." Johnny growls, biting at his tongue as burning bliss boils up into him, it's bubbling and boiling inside of him, it's hot, passionate, and fucking intense. Grabbing at V's hair, he yanks her in his direction, almost demanding she keeps eye contact with him, moans of ecstasy fall from her parted lips as her lips rush at his, groaning and moaning against his lips she is in pure heaven. Only pulling away when she can feel him thrust his hips upwards into her, bliss and ecstasy become one and it leaves V nearly screaming his name at the top of lungs. The sensations that move and course through her being are hot, intense, and everything in between, her insides are hot, warm, and mushy. He's all that is on her mind, his bliss, her bliss, it's all she can fucking think about and she doesn't care how fucking insane she may seem. "Johnny ...! Oh!" V gasps breathlessly, clinging to him and wrapping her arms around him, he's moving ruthlessly in and out of her, repeatedly hitting her sweet spot that sends her nerves into a blissful frenzy that leaves her aching for more and more. She's getting wetter and hotter with each moment of ecstasy, her hips continue to slam onto his lap with the sounds of her body slamming onto his echoing through the stall. "Gonna ... gonna fucking ... cum soon! Oh, shit ...!" She whines, moan after moan leaves her red and almost swollen lips as she wraps her arms around him firmly, her hands clutch a fistful of his black hair as many curses fall from her lips, she can feel her body burn up like a fresh fire is inside of her. Johnny can feel it too, he's panting like a dog in heat as heavy breaths leave his lips, he can feel her hot silky walls cling to his throbbing cock, she grips him firmly and takes the breath out of him. "Shit ... shit, shit shit ... come all over my ... thick cock, doll ... don't stop until you can feel me ... in your guts ..." Johnny purrs in a heavy breath, his hands move from her back and trail down to her ass, squeezing firmly at the round flesh. It happens. V boils over, her thighs tremble and jerk against him, as a continuous and brutal wave of ecstasy washes over her, it's exactly what she fucking needed. She nearly tears out his hair and he can feel her grasp soften on his hair as he clutches onto her, growling into her neck and into her smooth skin. It shoots through him, in a powerful heated wave that comes at once, he presses himself deeper into her, stretching and driving as deep as he can into her. His warm semen coats her insides or whatever kind of semen a construct can give you but it's hot and warm and leaves her shuddering at the heat that fills her. She gets off of his lap, her thighs still trembling and her cheeks still flushed, she gets up and finds herself against the door before she positions herself onto the floor, legs all wide and dress ruffled.

"Damn ... not even fucking alive ... yet you can still give it like it's nobody's business ..." V chuckles, grinning warmly at him, strands of hair are in front of her eyes as she can see him pull a cigarette out of pocket before he lights it up, inhaling the toxic stick of nicotine that he was undeniably addicted to. "Course' I can, V ... whether I'm dead or alive, I can fuck the shit out of anyone ... is that proof enough for you that Johnny Silverhand has had an impressive cock, or do I need to prove it to you once again ...?" Johnny challenges her with a taunting smile that curls onto his lips, a heavy wave of smoke leaves his lips before he presses the cigarette into his lips once more. " ... Yeah, you were right, dickhead ... now home I guess? I am more than exhausted ..." V huffs, getting up from off the floor and fixing out her crimson red dress, a cigarette is wedged in between his fingers as he fades away out of her view, glitching back into 1's and 0's. A deep sigh leaves her lips as she exits the bathroom stall, she can feel eyes glaring at her and staring at her only to add to her shame as she quickly scurries out of the bathroom. Immediately gets back home and smiles when she finally makes it to her bed, clutching at her pillow as her eyes flutter for a few moments before closing. Goodnight, doll ...

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny/v #cyberpunk johnny #johnny silverhand #johnny x v #cp2077 #johnny x reader #cyberpunk 2077 smut #johnny x reader smut

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

I put a Spell on you - Harry Hook x Sanderson! Reader - Halloween special one-shot

Halloween Harry Hook x reader

basic version of outfit for reader, can be changed as wished

VVVV

Halloween night, 2007, on the isle of the lost.

Young 6-year-old Harry Hook sat in the hull of the jolly roger, pouting to himself as he picked at his scarce stolen candy.

The isle never got much in the way of candy, the most they got was during the month of Halloween that the parents of Auradon threw away early for some odd reason.

Though what candy the isle got was little, and the “good stuff” was still on Auradon.

And Harry had unfortunately gotten a bad pick of candy this year, nasty fruit ropes that tasted like death, molding “coconut” chocolate candy that was too mushy to really enjoy, and watermelon looking hard candy.

The best he got was little wrapped hard pieces of candy that looked like brown barrels that had a slight spice to them.

Harry dropped the piece of candy he was holding and sighed, starting to stand and getting ready to turn in for the night after the disappointing Halloween. “jus’ like last year” Harry mumbled, brushing off his horrifically made copy of his father's jacket, he paused, something rang across his ears. “wha’ was-“

Come little children, I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children, the time's come to play

Here in my garden of magic.

“singing?” Harry quietly asked himself, turning towards where the voice was coming from. It seemed hypnotic or at least was supposed to be, but It had no grab to it as if it had lost its power.

But Harry's curious nature pushed him to seek the voice out. He snuck off his father's ship and followed the voice into the dark forest near pirates bay.

He ducked as he spotted an old slim woman, the one who was singing, waving her hands about and twirling.

“Winnie~” the woman stopped singing, spinning around and crossing her arms, and whining at a hidden figure “It's not working!”

“of course it's not you twit, the stupid barrier blocks our powers, we won't be getting any children tonight!” “wait!” a plump woman stepped into the mood light, her eyes glinting “I smell a child~”

“that’s just (y/n) you idiot!” the hidden figure scoffed, stepping next to the slim woman, and smacking her torso “keep your child inside sister, they will ruin our plans” “But we can use them to lure children! Maybe they can even lure a boy~”

“silence Sarah” the oldest woman scoffed, turning and walking back towards the rackety shack near a pond. “sistars!”

“coming Winnie!” the slim one called back, hiking up her dress and running after the oldest.

“But Winnie! The child!” the plump one moaned, turning her eyes right at Harry.

Harry held his breath and ducked behind a tree, freezing as he heard the woman sniff the air and continue to walk closer to his hiding spot. Wait…shit! he walked right into the Sander-

“Auntie! It's just me!” Harry's jaw dropped as a child, who seemed just around his age, popped up from behind the tree in front of him, a small smile on their face “sorry, but there's no other kids around”

The plump woman groaned and shook her head, stomping back into the shack. “little brat, fooling me”

The child watched until the door closed, slumping against the tree in relief as they looked at him “you shouldn't be here, you don’t wanna know what happens when my mom and aunts get their hands on kids” they walked over to him and pulled at the lapels of his jacket, the hood of their cloak falling as they did so.

They beamed at him “but im not gonna let anything happen to ya don’t worry……sorry I don’t know your name?” they tilted their head at him, their bright (e/c) eyes staring into his.

“H-Harry” Harry stuttered out, gasping as the child grabbed his hand and started pulling him the opposite way of the old shack the old woman were in.

“Nice ta meet ya Harry im (y/n)!” (y/n) chirped, flipping their hood back over their head and continuing to lead Harry out of the forest.

Moments later they reached the edge and (y/n) turned, grabbing Harry's arms, spinning around, and pushing him over the edge “now you have ta promise that you won't come back no matter what, and to never follow random singing” (y/n) pouted at harry, wiggling their finger in his face “it's too dangerous”

“I-um” Harry stuttered again, wringing his hands together before he stomped his foot “they aren’t even tha’ scary! I can take ‘em”

(y/n) just shook their head “doesn’t matter, they’ll eat you if they get the chance”

“e-eat me?!” Harry squeaked, taking a step back from (y/n) “wait aren’t yeh one of their kids- won't yeh eat me too?”

“no!” (y/n) shook their head defiantly, scowling at Harry “that’s just gross, eating kids, Id rather eat rotten candy” (y/n) crossed their arms and tilted their head at Harry “what you think all witches eat kids?”

“well, they-” Harry swallowed harshly “ur mums a Sanderson ain't she? She's known for tha’ “

(y/n)s shoulders dropped “well I’m not my mother” Harry felt slightly bad as (y/n) curled in on themselves, looking off.

“hey-i….thank yeh fer savin’ meh” (y/n) perked up, smiling at him.

“you’re welcome Harry, now DON’T got back into the forest on Halloween night ever again” (y/n) once more shook their finger in his face, pouting at him.

Harry nodded slowly, placing his hand on theirs and pushing their hand down “why Halloween night only?”

“because that’s when they think they are most powerful, and the only time they are brave enough to wander outside the shack….aunt Winnie makes me go out to get food and all that every other time” (y/n) explained, eyes turning to the sky and gasping.

“you have to get home! It won't be long before my aunt gets another idea to get kids, go go!” (y/n) pushed at Harry's shoulders, back towards pirate bay.

“Alright alright im goin’!” Harry yelled, shaking his head at the odd witch, he turned to start walking back towards his dad's ship when he stopped. He spun back around, watching (y/n) walk back into the forest. “wait!” (y/n) groaned and stopped, spinning around to look at him with raised brows.

“what” they snapped, glaring at him.

“will I ever see yeh again?” Harry asked, blinking in surprise as (y/n)s cheeks turned dark and they looked down at the forest floor.

“um-i-maybe…I have to go!” (y/n) turned and ran back into the forest to her home, leaving Harry at the forest edge.

12 years later, on Halloween night, Harry sat in his temporary room at Evie's castle, sitting on his bed while Gil and Uma sorted through their first real batch of Halloween candy.

Most of it had been leftovers from Evie's trick or treaters, but Evie had made them chaperone Dizzy, Celia, and the twins for their first Halloween.

And the younger VKs had somehow roped them into Trick or treating with them, which luckily the people of Auradon were nice enough to ignore that they were technically too old to trick or treat.

Harry could recount Evie scoffing at the “Age limit”, saying that no one is too old to trick or treat.

“Gil hand me that orange one” Uma muttered, chewing on a Butterfinger.

“The Reese's?” Gil asked, holding up the flat packaging and handing it to Uma.

“yep, thanks…Harry you good?” Uma asked, noticing Harry staring out the window.

“hm?” Harry turned back to her, his eyes drooping “ah, sorry Uma, zoned out”

“well, it has been a tiring night….I'mma head in for tonight, night boys”

“night Uma” Harry and Gil called back in chorus, Gil leaving after Uma a moment later, leaving Harry alone in his room.

Come little children, I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children, the time's come to play

Here in my garden of magic.

Harry perked up, he knew that song…..he definitely knew that song.

Though this time, the hypnotic power it had was present, taking hold of his mind and dragging him out of his room and out the door of Evie's castle.

Harry walked deeper into the forest surrounding Evie's castle, the voice becoming louder as he walked.

Suddenly he was grabbed, the cackling of three women echoing in his ears.

“oh, it’s a boy! Hes Handsome too~I want to play with him~!”

“later Sarah, first we must take him along with the others back to the cottage, he’ll be the first for your child, let them experience the dark art of Magic!”

“ohhh! Yes! Let em’ learn, let ‘em learn, let ‘em learn!”

Harry's vision went black, and he woke later in a chair, something invisible tying him down to it.

“wha’?” Harry muttered, pulling at his arm “where…shit” Harry tried to wriggle his wrist to draw the small switchblade in his jacket sleeve when the three Sanderson sisters walked in, holding two small children in their arms.

“ohhh hes awake!” the thin one, Sarah he guessed, gasped, clapping her hands together.

Harry let out a snarl and thrashed in his chair, the sisters gasped and reeled back. “nasty one isn’t he” the one with the odd lips, Winnie, muttered “perfect for our little imp isn’t he Mary”

“perfect Winnie” the plump one snickered, licking her lips as she separated from her sisters and dragged one of the children over a chair next to Harry, forcing the young girl down into it and snapping her fingers, silver rope wrapping around the girl's arms and legs and binding her to the chair “there we go!”

Sarah giggled and grabbed the boy she had by the scruff of his zombie costume and dragged him over to the chair on Harry's left, pushing him into the chair and binding him with the silver rope that turned invisible like Harrys.

“ohhhh (y/n)~” Harry perked up….he knew that name?

From the door on Harry's right, someone stepped out from the shadows, wearing a long dark pink jacket that tapered off at their waist, a corset type top with fishnet under top underneath it, ripped black jeans with scuffed brown boots, a belt with a pouch resting on their left hip that held two beakers resting on their left thigh.

“yes, aunt Winnie” the teen witch sighed, their hood hiding their face from Harry. Winnie grabbed an odd brown colored spell book with an eye on it and handed it to the hooded teen.

“here, finish the life potion while we go get more children, the…pirate boy is yours to do what you wish with” Winnie patted the teens head and turned “Sistars!” she stormed out of the cottage, the two witches running after their sister.

“coming Winnie!!”

The door slammed shut, the teen watching the door for a good minute before they sighed and dropped the book on the table to their right “thank hades” they tipped their head back, ruffling their (h/c) hair and blowing a raspberry “thought they’d never leave” they rushed over to a cabinet and ripped the doors open, rummaging through spices and herbs. “wormswart wormswart, where are you wormswart-ah-ha!”

They spun around, holding a jar of some sort of liquid and opening it, a hiss of silver mist rising from the bottle, they held the bottle delicately over the cauldron holding the boiling potion of life and poured a single drop of wormswart into the potion.

The potion turned a sickly brown, sputtering into the teen witches face. “ugh” they groaned, leaning back and wiping their face.

They grabbed a large spoon and mixed the potion, stirring until it turned back into a dark green. “there we go, now they can't use it” the teen muttered, looking up and locking eyes with Harry. “now to get you all out of here before they come back!”

With a wave of their hand, a silver pocket knife appeared, and they speed-walked over to Harry, cutting the invisible ropes at his hands. “im sorry about this, I tried to spell them to sleep until tomorrow at dawn but im not very good at potions other than ruining them”

“(y/n)?” Harry asked aloud, the teen stopped, slowly looking up at Harry, their still bright (e/c) eyes widening.

“Harry! What-“ they stood, leaning over Harry and shaking their finger in his face, “I told you not to follow the singing!”

Harry smirked at them and mocked bite their finger, (y/n) gasped and reeled back, pouting at him and smacking his chest. “jerk, im saving you from being eaten and yet you repay me like this?”

Harry chuckled and grabbed the knife from (y/n)s hand, cutting the rope from his legs “sorry love, couldn’t resist”

“l-love?” (y/n) stuttered, backing away from Harry and staring at him oddly.

Harry just looked at them, making their cheeks turn dark “you….you grew up” they muttered, looking away from Harry.

“heh” Harry chuckled, standing from the chair and looking to his right “we should probably get them outta here huh?”

“y-yeah” (y/n) stuttered, waving their hand and another silver knife appeared, walking over to the boy while Harry kneeled next to the girl and started to cut them free. “I’ll need to break the spell my mom put on them before we take them back, otherwise they’ll get their hands on them again.”

Harry nodded, picking up the girl dressed like a princess and setting her on his hip, her head resting in his neck.

(y/n) picked up the boy and walked over to harry, muttering a counterspell under their breath, and with a snap of their fingers, the two kids snapped out of their trance. The Girl leaning away from Harry and looking from him to (y/n), her eyes wide.

“where-whats” her lip wobbled, starting to cry a bit. the boy stared at Harry with wide eyes.

“you’re Harry Hook” the boy whispered in awe, squeaking a bit as (y/n) rearranged their grip on him.

“that's all dandy but we have to get you both back to your homes, the witches will be back soon and I need to be here when they are”

Harry nodded, pressing the girl's face back into his neck and following (y/n) out to the back door.

“come on, the main town is this way!”

Harry and (y/n) dropped the girl off, who told them her name of Sofia, and hurried her inside. “now don’t go after random singing on Halloween okay, it only leads to bad things” (y/n) warned them, handing the young girl a slip of paper with markings on it “as long as you have this, you will be protected from my mother's song” Sofia nodded, unsure but ran into her house, slamming the door behind her.

“alrigh’” Harry sighed, shifting Elijah in his arms and looked at the young boy “where do yeh live?”

Elijah pointed across the street and down a few houses “tha’ close huh?” Harry muttered, letting the boy down and watching him as he ran toward his home.

The boy stopped as (y/n) called his name, turning as they jogged over to him and handed him another piece of paper “thanks” Elijah squeaked, bolting into his house and slamming the door closed.

(y/n) sighed, rubbing their face in exhaustion “two down….however many kids to go” (y/n) rolled their neck and looked over at harry “now lets get you home too”

Harry stared at (y/n) as they walked up to him and held out their hands “I didn’t do this with the kids because I know they would freak but I can teleport us to where you live”

“yeh can teleport?” Harry asked, tilting his head as he stared at (y/n)s hands.

“yep, me, my mother, and my aunts each have a special power, my mom has a hypnotic singing voice, my aunt Mary can sniff out any kid from miles away, and my aunt Winnie can shoot lightning from her hands” Harry nodded slowly, grabbing onto (y/n)s hands.

“so what now?” Harry asked, watching as (f/c) smoke started to rise around him and (y/n)

“where do you live?” (y/n) chuckled, smiling at him.

“uh, im staying at Evie's castle right now”

“oh, I know where that is!” (y/n) cheered, the smoke swirling around them for a moment before it dissipated, revealing them now to be in front of Evie’s castle.

“cool” Harry muttered, not noticing (y/n) look down at their still intertwined hands and hurriedly ripped their hands away from him, Harry turned to (y/n), furrowing his brows as (y/n) looked around with wandering eyes “don’t go back” (y/n) whipped around to look at him with surprise.

“i-what?”

“don’t go back, stay here” Harry pleaded, grabbing onto (y/n)s shoulders “yer not happy there, and yer gonna waste away being their slave”

(y/n) just stared at him, sighing as they grabbed his hands and slowly took them off their shoulders “I…..I have to, to protect the kids”

Harry sighed, biting his lip in thought “okay….but!” (y/n) looked at harry, confusion swimming in their eyes “after tonight, come back here, im sure Evie would be happy to accommodate yeh, i’ll even ask for extra measure” (y/n) shook their head, looking over their shoulder back towards the witches cottage.

“…okay” (y/n) sighed, giggling as harry beamed at them and grabbed their shoulders in his excitement.

“Okay!?”

“okkayy! I'll come back tomorrow after my mom and aunts are asleep” Harry grinned at (y/n), chuckling as (y/n) smiled back.

“but….why do you want me to come back after tonight?” (y/n) asked, tilting their head at harry.

“because you saved meh from them 12 years ago…might as well return tha’ favor?” Harry smirked, snickering as (y/n)s cheeks darkened.

“well…I should get back now….see ya later?” (y/n) stepped away from Harry, (f/c) smoke rising around them. “see ya later” Harry confirmed, waving (y/n) goodbye as the smoke complexly enveloped them and they disappeared.

Harry sighed, cracking his neck and walking back inside Evie's castle, sneaking back up to his room and flopping on his bed, closing his eyes and falling asleep instantly from the crazy night.

Harry sighed in relief as the next morning, when Evie turned on the tv and the Auradon news came up, some breaking news came up about how the Sanderson sisters had been caught attempting their old antics with stealing the life force of children and had been arrested.

And the child of Sarah Sanderson had been confirmed secretly helping the children escaped, as claimed by the many children saved by the teen witch.

“aint (y/n) Sanderson that kid you met on the isle when you were like, 6? Harry?” Uma asked aloud, looking over her shoulder at Harry as he stuck another piece of pancakes in his mouth.

He swallowed and nodded, picking at his scrambled eggs “aye, and I….shoot, Evie I saw ‘em again last night, and might have told them if they wanted to they could come here?”

“that’s perfectly fine” Evie gushed, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron “I have plenty of room for them here, and-wait you saw them? How?”

“uhhh” Harry stalled, watching as Uma set her fork down and stared at him with raised brows.

“you did a stupid didn’t you?” Uma droned, leaning on her intertwined hands.

“uhhh, yes?” Harry winched, yelping as Uma sent a torrent of water at him “hey! I was bewitched! It wasn’t meh fault!” Harry pouted, crossing his arms.

Everyone went silent as Evie's front door got knocked on, Evie glanced at Harry and took off her apron, tossing it onto the counter and walking over to her door, slowly opening it and peeking around the door.

“oh! You must be (y/n)! Harry told us about you!”

“r-really? He did?” the teen muttered, gasping as Evie grabbed their wrist and dragged them in.

“yep! Now! Are you hungry?” Evie pushed them into the living room that doubled as a dining room that connected to the kitchen, (y/n) stared at all the vks, locking eyes with Harry.

“i-yes?”

“Great! I'll make you up a plate and you get acquainted with everyone!”

Evie clapped her hands and skipped back into the kitchen, giggling with Mal as (y/n) just stood awkwardly where Evie left her.

“yeh kept yer promise” Harry smiled, standing up and walking over to (y/n), putting his hands on his hips and leaning towards (y/n)

“uhh yep” (y/n) chuckled, rubbing their arm nervously “Im here?”

Harry chuckled at their awkwardness and grabbed their shoulder, shoving them into the middle of the room, in view of everyone “(y/n) this is everyone, everyone this is (y/n), they have saved my ass twice now”

“hi” (y/n) waved awkwardly, a small grin on their face. Uma stood from her seat at the island and walked over to (y/n), slowly circling her like a vulture. “ummm hi?”

Uma hummed, standing in front of (y/n), her eyes dark and revealing nothing….then she smiled, reaching out and patting (y/n)s shoulder “nice to meet you (y/n)”

(y/n) gave a small smile, “nice to meet you too….Uma? right?”

Uma nodded and nodded her head back at the island near the kitchen, where Evie was setting (y/n)s plate full of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. “yep that’s me, and your foods ready”

(y/n) slowly walked over to their food, taking off their bag that was slung over their shoulder and setting it on the floor, hesitantly starting to eat the food Evie had given them.

Almost comically, their eyes widened and they started to scarf down the breakfast. Evie giggled and tapped on the counter, grabbing (y/n)s attention “apple or orange juice?”

“apple please” (y/n) spoke with a mouth full of food, blushing as Evie giggled once more and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle.

She poured the drink and set it in front of (y/n) who gently took the cup and started to drink, turning towards the tv as it went back to the Sanderson sister's arrest.

*they will be stripped of their magic and be sent to the new high-security prison implemented on the isle of the doomed.*

“how many kids did yeh save (y/n)?” Harry asked, turning to look at the teen witch. (y/n) swallowed her mouthful of bacon and shrugged.

“around 20, including you and those two kids, my aunts and mom didn’t get far before the Auradon guard was called on ‘em”

“hm” Uma nodded in approval, smirking at harry “good job”

Harry smirked back, standing and sitting next to (y/n), watching as Dizzy changed the channel to Sunday cartoons

“so do yeh think you’ll stick around?” Harry whispered, (y/n) turned to him, and smiled.

“yeah I think I will” they whispered back, leaning back in their chair and watching the show “Powerpuff girls” as it played.

Harry smiled, happy to have finally repaid his debt to the witch who had saved him all those years ago.

And it was going to be fun to tease them since they went all dark whenever he simply looked at them.

-end-

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @remembered-license

@rintheemolion @verboetoperee

@random-thoughts-003 @imtryingthisout

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #halloween #hocus pocus #sanderson sisters #sarah sanderson

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tatsumology · 3 years

Text

1-cm High World

Location: Seisou Hall Courtyard

Mitsuru: Sniff sniff… Just as I thought, the scent of bread is coming from over here!

They gotta be sweet buns~☆ It smells like the ones you can get at the supermarket!

Ah, found it! So it really was here!

But why is it hanging from a tree branch? It kinda looks like a bread-snatching race.[1] Hmm?

Well, anyway. The bread will go bad if it stays here. I should bring this to the dorm supervisor[2] right away! Dash dash, ju~mp!

Uwaah!? I got stuck in a net and now I’m hanging in the air!

So basically, this is a trap someone set up? Maybe it was the mischievous Hinata-chan? Or could this have been one of Shinobu-chan’s ninjutsu tricks?

When I move my body it feels like I'm shaking like a yoyo, it's fun! Bounce Bou~nce♪

Kohaku: ...It actually caught him.

Mitsuru: Ah, Koha-chan. Hello!

Kohaku: Though this isn’t a situation to be greetin’ each other so casually…. Good day.

Ya certainly look like you’re utterly hog-tied. I'll get ya down, so don't move.

Mitsuru: Okay! I'm bad at staying still, but I'll control myself♪

Kohaku: (Even in such a situation he’s not fazed in the slightest... sorta like Madara-han.)

(Although we’re doin’ activities together as Double Face an’ I know about the ”Mikejima” name, I still don’t know Madara-han’s true self real well.)

(Even if it’s just for a short while, I feel mighty anxious bein’ in the care of someone like him.)

(I was tryin’ ta figure out one or two weaknesses o’ his, an’ then I pieced together that I needed ta go to the Track & Field Club.)

(In order to not stir up any unnecessary trouble, I can’t touch Narukami-han, who’s real close ta bon[3]. An’ as fer Otogari-han...I can’t quite grasp his physical strength just yet.)

(Rulin’ those out, I had ta choose Tenma-han.)

(Although ‘t was me who set the trap, I didn’t think he would come. Yer run-of-the-mill folks wouldn’t get caught up in such an obvious trap, right?)

(Just how much does this dude like bread?)

(Well anyhow, it’s all dandy that I’ve been able ta get him while Madara-han ain’t around.)

…. Now yer loose. ‘M sorry that I set out a trap like this, but there’s just somethin’ I hafta ask ya.

Mitsuru: Not at all! It felt like an amusement park ride, so it was fun! I’d welcome a trap like this any time!

Kohaku: I- is that so? Well, nothin’ better than a good mood right? Here, have some bread as an apology.

Mitsuru: Yaay, I scored another piece of bread! Yesyes~!☆

Munch munch…. So, what was it that you wanted to ask me?

Kohaku: Y’see.. Y’know Madara-han? The one from the Mikejima household? I pretty much only know ‘bout how he is as an idol.

Tenma-han is also in the Track & Field Club with him, right? Can’t ya teach me what kind of person he is?

Mitsuru: I got you! Then let’s change into our tracksuits and meet up in 5 minutes!

Kohaku: Thanks a lot, ya really saved me there~

…. Eh, tracksuits?

5 minutes later

Mitsuru: Okay, first of all, let’s have a match! Get ready to dash! ☆

Kohaku: (So basically, we’re gonna run? I haven’t got a clue what this has gotta do with Madara-han, though.)

(In order ta gain his trust, it’s best ta just go along with him.)

Mitsuru: Dash dash~!

Kohaku: Hollup, how far are ya plannin’ on goin’?!

Mitsuru: Thanks to the bread I’ve just eaten, I’m all fired up! It’s just so much fun to run!

It’s the first time that I’m running together with Koha-chan. You’ve gotta show how much you can run!

I’ve become a proper oniichan now that I’m in my second year. I’m not a child that you can just baby all the time!

Kohaku: Haaa… huff..

Mitsuru: Koha-chan, are you okay? Please eat some bread and jazz up!

Kohaku: Are ya serious?! If I were to get anythin’ in my stomach right now, I’d totally throw it all up.

Mitsuru: It’s gonna be fine if it’s bread! I have some …

Huh, I don’t have any bread on me?!

Let’s go to a bakery to get some! So dash dash with all I got~!

….Not with all I’ve got. I should match up to Koha-chan’s pace, then dash dash at half power~☆

Location: Time Street

Mitsuru: Munch munch… Bread is super duper tasty when you eat it after running!

Kohaku: Yer right...it’s tastin’ better than usual ‘cause we just worked up a sweat.

Mitsuru: ....

Kohaku: ? What’s the matter? Yer starin’ like a rock...

Mitsuru: I just always got the idea that you practically don’t have any friends, so I’m happy that we’re hanging out together! Ehehe♪

Kohaku: “Practically don’t have any friends”...you don’t beat around the bush, huh. Compared ta you, I don’t have heaps, but I do have some.

(‘s all well. Although Tenma-han looks like he’s got his head in the clouds all the time, he’s real aware of his surroundings. It’s kinda surprisin’.)

(.... This ain’t the time for admirin’! I totally forgot about my objective.)

(I could keep goin’ along with him, but with bread and dashin’ I won’t make any progress. Let’s cut to the chase now.)

Tenma-han. This is about Madara-han, I don’t really understand what all this runnin’ around has got to do with him. Could ya explain it so that even I can understand?

Mitsuru: Okey-dokey! Up you go~☆

Kohaku: Waah?! What are ya doin’! Don’t carry me on yer shoulders! Egh, I can’t get down if ya grab me so tightly!

Mitsuru: Mike-chan-senpai loves festivals! He carries me like a mikoshi[4]— gives me a ride on his shoulders and all. He’s a super nice person!

Whenever I’m in a fix, he helps me out. He’s a good guy. But I’ve also become bigger too, I'm already a second year!

I wanna go from being helped to being someone who helps out others!

So if you’re ever troubled about anything, Koha-chan can also come to me for advice!

Kohaku: …. Right. If I’m in a pinch, I’ll count on ya.

(His eyes are sparklin’ when he’s talkin’ ‘bout Madara-han.)

(“A super nice person” huh … So he appears like that to a kid who knows nothin’ of the face beneath the mask.)

(Though I didn’t quite get the information I was hopin’ for, I still spent a meaningful day like this.)

Mitsuru: Sniff sniff … I can smell freshly baked bread!

It’s coming from that bakery! Dash da~sh … ☆

Kohaku: Whaah?! Put me down first~!

Proofreaders

JP: Anonymous

EN: Amagiiz

Translation Notes

A bread-snatching race in Japan is mainly done during school events. Bread is hung on a string, then children need to grab it with their mouths and carry it over a course to the finish line. You can see an example of this in Mitsuru’s bloomed 2015 Sports Festival 4* card ↩︎

The dorm supervisor is Keito. ↩︎

This is how Kohaku refers to Tsukasa. ↩︎

A Mikoshi is a Japanese portable festival shrine that you carry on your shoulders. ↩︎

#trslt #oukawa kohaku #tenma mitsuru #idol story

31 notes · View notes

theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years

Text

Pink Chains (cont.)

Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment.

Punk! Kyotani x Bubbly F! reader. Aka my favorite cliche trope. It lives in my head every second of the day.

Brief Violence

The rest of the first half and all ive got so far ! / first half at the bottom !!

Your home was a cheap studio apartment not far from the college; a small studio with a cute bed by the window , a table with a bunch of markers with a big sketchbook sitting in the middle . You had the basic needs and a little couch in the corner but no tv , but there was a little pink cat bed next to the couch.

Kyo stuffed his hands in his pockets looking around the studio , it was weird being in a small studio for him since he has a home . Everything seemed shoved into one or two spots. He sat down on the couch and you were looking a little embarrassed, fussing with your dress .

“I know its not much but ! Its my little space heh, Mocha is probably in her little house sleeping. She will wake up soon though now that im home !!!” You picked up some clothes out of a basket. “Ill be right back , make yourself at home!”

“Okay sweetie.” He leaned forward dipping his head down to look in the cat hut . He could see a tiny kitten sleeping in it and smirked leaning back into the couch getting comfortable, well as much as he could in tight jeans. Kyo peeled his jacket off and pulled his phone out to check it .

Group Chat

Mattsun/ picture

Oikawa/ OOOOOO

Iwaizumi/ i knew pink was your color

Kyotonai/ guess where i am

Iwaizumi/well i dont see you so not at home

Oikawa/ are you at her house ?!?

Kyotani/yep, invited me to stay the night

Mattsun/ oh my , how adult

Kyotani/ shut up Mattsun

Oikawa/ hope you brought condoms

Iwaizumi/ be gentle with her

Kyotani/we aint gonna fuck i just didint want to leave yet

Oikawa/ 😙😙😙😗😙😙😙

Mattsun/ 😳😳😳😳😳

Iwaizumi/ 😒

Kyotani / i hate all of you

Iwa,Kawa, Mattsun/ 💕💞♥️

Kyo put his phone on the table when he saw you come out of the restroom, you were wearing a red panda shirt and matching shorts . Mocha emerged from her home too and meowed for attention . Kyo could not stop looking at you, so cute, so , so cute..

“Mocha! “ you bent down and picked up the brown kitten taking a seat next to Kyo to show him. “Shes a rescue ! I saw her all alone and i just had to help her.”

Kyo took the kitten from you and set it on his lap to pet her. “Shes cute” he leaned back tugging at his jeans trying to relax.

“Whats wrong?” You asked, Kyos lap to pet the happy kitten.

“Had these jeans on all day, i dont want to.. make you uncomfortable.”

Mocha nuzzled into Kyos stomach getting comfy and looked like she was not movin for any reason.

“I dont mine but.. you better do it fast because Mocha is not gonna care that you wanna take em off.”

Gently he lifted to kitten to fuss with his belt , you giggled getting up and grabbing your sketchbook. “Can i show you.. heh my drawings.”

“Of course sweetie, you draw?” He asked , pulling his jeans down with one hand and Mocha in the other. Kyo had on black and pink boxers . “Ugn finally..” he set Mocha back on his lap and placed the jeans on his jacket feeling a little unsure if he should have taken em off.

You hid behind your sketchbook when you saw him on the couch in his boxers. Kyo had tone legs from volleyball and a few tattoos on his legs along with some bruises and knicks.

Kyo looked down at Mocha feeling a little embarrassed. Why were skinny jeans so damn uncomfortable after a while? He asked as he pet the little kitten.

You sat down with him criss cross with the sketchbook on your lap. “Yep! I'm in college for art and design. I want to one day get picked up by a clothing store and have my drawings on shirts”

Kyo leaned towards you looking over the sketches with wide eyes. They might have been all cute things; like kittens, red pandas, hearts, patterns and space but they were so damn good. “You have a real talent these are awesome.”

“Really?!?”

“Yes sweetie. Id put these on my shirts. Oh that reminds me..”

“Oh my gosh!! Kyo that would be so cool!” Gently you placed the sketchbook on the table and looked at Kyo, he was a looking a little unsure of himself. “Whats wrong..?”

“Why exactly did you come into my store ? Ive never seen you in it before”

“ uhm Kyo.. you have a shirt in the window with kittens on it.. so.. “

He laughed wrapping his arm around you making you laugh too. “My ‘Sad Day’ shirt? With all the grumpy cats?”

“Its so cute, how could I not!!!” You hit his chest lightly not liking his tone.

“Okay okay.” Lightly he grabbed one of your hands holding it close. “Happy you did, really.” His eyes drifted off you and around the room.

“Kyo?” You inched closer, picking Mocha up leaning down to place her in her hut.

Kyo picked you up and sat you down on his lap facing him, placing his hands at your hips. He leaned back spreading his legs. “Yes? Sweetie..?” You could feel he was a little hard, it was really hot between your legs..

“Im happy i did too.. i really like you.”

His heart thumped a few times. “First girl to say that to me…” he rested his elbow on the arm of the couch to support his head. “I wasn't the nicest guy in highschool, i'll never forget the day Yahaba slammed me into that wall and told me to get my shit together.”

You looked a little sad at his words, Kyo only mentioned his aggression one other time but even then he sounded upset and full of regret.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him , cupping his cheeks so he would look at you. His eyes told you ‘yes, yes please.’ But.. “No, i just want to hold you if that's okay.”

“Okay. If we fall asleep my alarm is going to go off at 8 so sorry in advance.” You got comfortable on his lap and Kyo tipped your chin up so you were looking at him.

“Would you be more comfortable on the bed?”

“Yes i think so. I dont think i can sleep like this. Hehe.”

Kyo gripped your hips picking you up, he stepped over Mochas hut and brought you to the bed to lay down with you, his face a little red. You latched onto his sleeve closing your eyes and drifting off. “Night Kyo..”

“G’night sweetie..”

Fuck what was he doing ? Talking about it will help.. right? Kyo had to wait a bit before you were fully asleep to get up and grab his phone.

Kyotani/ Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi/ Yes

Kytotani/ keep this between us

Iwaizumi/ you didn't hit it and ditch did you?

Kyotani/ what? No.

Iwaizumi/ are you scared to make it official Kyo

Kyo stared at the text for a few minutes reading it over and over .

Iwaizumi/ is it the anger issues

He squeezed his phone and sat down on the couch dialing his phone.

“Im scared ill lash out or something”

“Mm.. when was the last time that happened again?”

“The Tourney against the Black Jackals.”

“Ah yes, think Kei had to pry you off Bokuto or something right?”

“Yes… Iwaizumi i can't lash out at her. I just can't, i mentioned Yahaba and that day and she asked if i wanted to talk about it”

“You said ’no’, didn't you” Sigh “Kyotani she's not a threat, she's not an enemy . She's literally just a girl who likes you. Open up to her”

“How.”

“Uuhhmmmm, tell her you want to talk about it. I'm going to bed. You can do this Kyotani”

He hung up .

Kyo rubbed his face for a minute and glanced at you for a minute then back to his phone opening up Messages.

Kyotani/ Mattsun i know your asleep but invite Yahaba to the beach volleyball.

He set his phone down and very slowly made his way back to you. He wrapped his arms around your sleeping body and shut his eyes tight trying to sleep.

In the morning Kyo was awake early browsing on his phone, he stared at the screen for a minute before pressing Play on the video.

-flash back-

‘Another score for the Black Jackals!!! It is Match Point !!! ‘

The Sendai frogs were tired, sweaty and losing this Tournament. The Black Jackals were still full of energy and ready to go . It was a very hard game for both sides and Bokuto kept testing Kyotani, this was the first time he met the loud grey haired boy and he just did not like him. He knew Hinata but he did not like him too much.

Kyotani was doing better at keeping his temper under control and his team figured out how to hype him up without making him angry. Kei was not too fond of him but then again he did not really need to be, they just needed to be on the same page on the court.

That owl boy though, he was loud, annoying , and just testing him. Kyotani knew it, every serve, block, and spike was for him to clear or get rid of . Kyotani got hit with the ball a couple times and thats when he lost it.

‘Kyotani has taken another hit from the ball!!!’ Yelled the annoucer .

“Hey hey hey?!! Eye on the ball yea!??”

“Dont let it get to you” Kei told him .

“.........”

“..Kyot-“

He was on the other side of the net ontop of Bokuto punching him .The whole building was dead silent.

The last thing Kyotani remembered was hearing the announcer describe what was happening and Kei pulling him off of Bokuto.

He quit the Sendai Frogs that day, took his last check and left not looking back. He opened an apparel shop he called The Dog House and got in touch with his old highschool teammates starting over.

-end flashback-

You woke up to see Kyos hand on your head , you were not fully awake so you just laid there enjoying the nice feeling on your head. Mocha had also joined you in bed and was between you both sleeping. Kyo smelled like leather… an old leather that was renewed, it made your nose crinkle a bit. Looking up you saw he had a collar tattoo with spikes on it on his wrist . It was kinda silly but kinda cute too , although you wondered what it meant.

A minute later your alarm went off and you whimpered letting Kyo know you were awake. He let go of your head to slam your alarm clock off. He looked upset or angry in the face, and he was still staring at his phone.

Slowly you got up and gently placed Mocha on your pillow so you could scoot closer to him. “Kyo? Did you get any sleep?”

“I have to show you something.” He said as he turned his phone to you pressing Play again.

You were holding the phone now, it was alot heavier than yours . You had watched the video a couple times and everytime Kyo punched Bokuto you flinched. After the second time you placed the phone down to sit facing him.

“Kyo..”

He looked the other way running his hand through his hair.

“Kyo?”

He wanted to run away so bad. Start over again. Someplace without people like -

“Kyo.”

You were between his legs now , he had his knees up and was resting his elbows on them and still did not look at you. Dammit Mad Dog just say something to her, she's right there, dont shut her out.. dont shut..

You grabbed his face turning his head, kissing him, catching him very off guard. Kyo fell back taking you with him . You had no intention of stopping and just kissed him more and more even though he cursed between breaths. Kyo grabbed you lifting you up off his face and chest. You frowned at him and sat down on his lap once he let you go, cheeks flushed and very embarrassed.

“S..swee..sweetie”

“You aren't like that anymore!” You told him while you rubbed your eyes.

“Sweetie no don't cry please..” he sat up taking you in his arms rubbing your back in circles. “Sshh..”

“Please.. talk to me..” You sniffled into his neck squeezing him tight.

Kyo was shaking .. you were shaking . He laid his head on your neck starting from the beginning.. the very beginning. Every few minutes he would stop to check if you were still crying. He would cup your face and wipe under your eyes and ask ‘Are you Afraid of Me’ and you shook your head saying ‘No’ every single time. You were both tearing up by the end of it, Kyotani told you about Yahaba, Highschool after Iwa & Kawa graduated , how he became a Pro and Bokuto. The look on his face just made you so sad and seeing you sad was something he never wanted to see.

“Sweetie.. how , how can.”

“I like you Kyo, a lot. I'm not scared, never will be.”

“I'm so scared ill lash out at you sweetie.”

You grabbed his hand holding it and running a hand up and down his sleeve while you talked. “Kyo.. you let me touch your wolves. When we first met in your shop i noticed you were rubbing it a lot , like you were worried or you thought id just out right touch it”

“I..”

You kissed him again and wiped your eyes free of stray tears. “I want to be with you Kyo, i wanna.. see red pandas with you”

He laughed at that and so did you.

“I already said i'd take you didint i?” He asked cupping your face .

“Just making sure you know i really wanna go heh..”

“I know sweetie, believe me i know.” Kyo kissed you and you blushed wrapping your arms around him.

The alarm went off again too.

••

@zoppzoop @mocha-babes @haikyuu-but-low-iq @milkbreadcat @kozushiki

••

#PinkChains #kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro #kentarou x reader #kyotani 💕

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izzyspussy · 3 years

Note

how different is writing an actual book as opposed to writing fanfiction besides the obvious (og characters/backstories/plots)? Bc publishing my writing is something i’ve always wanted to do, but i’ve never felt compelled to be in depth with metaphors/subplots/motifs, and I’m sure they show up but in a natural way? Does that make me a less efficient author for just wanting to create vs putting together a puzzle? I’ve always liked books with plots to be clear and forward, while leaving room for dissection as like an extra activity vs something thats necessary, if that makes any sense, and I feel like that reflects in my own writing and I can’t tell if that makes it less — and for lack of a better word — good. Ik this is a lot, but generally if you’ve got any tips regarding the process and importance of some aspects of professionally writing, id greatly appreciate it <3

Hi, anon! Thanks for asking, let's see what I can do for you for some answers! ♥

How different is writing a book compared to writing fanfiction?

In my personal experience the biggest difference - just in writing, not editing, publishing, etc - writing a book versus writing fanfiction is actually with characterization. If you have a fully developed character in your mind from knowing what happens to them it can be kind of difficult to write them pre-development and have them change on-page. In fanfiction, usually you already have your starting point with the character and you only have to worry about how to get them where you want them.

(And also you usually can't use lyrics for your titles lol.)

In Depth Subplots & Motifs (& Foreshadowing, etc)

These things are super hard and can be very complicated, so don't worry too much if they're not your favorite thing to work on!

I think at least in regards to motif, if you're really writing from a genuine place it pretty much takes form as you go. Sometimes in the plotting stage you have only the "point" or you have only the fun delivery mechanisms - the characters, plot, setting. Whatever little pieces you start with, in this particular case most of the time the easiest way to figure out the shape of everything else is to just dive in and let it happen.

I also do that a lot with fanfiction, actually, because often it's a total accident. @kedreeva has a post about why sometimes you can realize you have to rework your plot only to find that what you've already written already supports your new direction. I think pretty much everything said there can apply just as readily to motifs and to the purpose your story is meant to fulfill for the audience, or for you. I don't remember any exact words from the post though so I don't think I could find it lmfao. It might be a ways back in my /writing-process tag, but maybe they have easier access to it and can share it again, in which case I'll come back and add the link.

As for subplots, those are really fucking hard and there's not much else I can really tell you about 'em. However! You don't always necessarily need a subplot. They can add extra depth to your characters and to your world, or they can emphasize your main plot, but frankly good character development alone can do those things just as well. It can be a little difficult to get a full novel if you don't have a subplot, but not everyone is a novel writer and that's good! Not everyone is a novel reader either.

Metaphors are also mostly for good flavor. Depending on your subject matter and your style, you might not need them either. Off the top of my head I don't think Steig Larsson (Girl With The Dragon Tattoo) used many metaphors in his series, and that mostly just made the content feel more grounded. It's not for every reader (some might call it 'dry' or 'dense' or something like that) but for some people that's their preference!

You do of course need some background and flavor text other than just A, B, and C things happened, of course, but they can be in any style or amount of detail that you prefer. Your editor and test readers will let you know if something doesn't make sense or seems incomplete.

Does that make me a less efficient author?

If you're writing fiction, it's not really about efficiency! It's about being engaging. Stephen King and J.R.R. Tolkien both spend pages upon pages giving textbook-like information on their worlds or on character backstory that I personally would have said to cut if I was their editor, but again some audiences prefer that kind of read!

If you think it's more interesting/important/fun to spend time on literal description versus making your work fit an aesthetic, then that's what will be interesting/important/fun for the audience you'll find eventually.

The only thing you can really do to find a style that you are satisfied with and is readable is to practice, share your work, be open to critique (when appropriate ofc), and read a lot.

Other Tips

In fanfiction having an editor, beta-readers, critique partners, and maintaining a group of peers is all really kind of optional and honestly even above and beyond. In publishing that is 100% not true. You absolutely need an editor and test readers, and you need to keep up with other people in the industry and especially in your genre and/or publishing method (traditional, indie, self). Mutually assured success is necessary - not a nice extra - in publishing. You have to be willing to spend time on others' work and to accept the value of their input on yours if you want to make good art and reach an audience.

Again, thanks for sending in an ask. I hope this helped!

♥ Jack

I'm an award winning author. AMA!

#jack facts #jack chats #writing process

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Text

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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ohnothewheatisonfire · 4 years

Text

ok J&H Fandom, let’s talk:

“Popular” blog @thatsmyhyde is a prominent creator in the J&H Fandom. But here’s where the problem shows up:

the content they make is concerning at least, and full of red flags at worst.

DISCLAIMER: This is all information I have gathered through their tumblr blog - I am not aware of what other things they may be posting on other social medias or their written work. ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: Please be polite, I am a minor, and am just creating this post to ward off / warn other minors from following this person. If you are an adult interacting with this post and blog, be mindful of your actions and be responsible

Trigger warnings for: discussions of homophobia, discussions of p//phillia, fat-shaming, fat-phobia (?), etc. Just be on general edge for this post, we’re talking about a lot of weird stuff

I will be linking their posts as I am not going to take screenshots of their art.

This is not a comprehensive list of all the things they’ve done - these are the ones I could think of and was able to adress. If you have anything additional you want to add to this post (such as concerning things they may do on other social media), feel free to reblog and add on the things you need to say, just please don’t be dumb.

Let’s start with the premise: Henry Jekyll creates an alter ego, Edward Hyde. They begin a relationship - an emotional and physical one. Their AU features Jekyde (A popular ship in the fandom, the name stands for Jekyll x Hyde), people have various views on this ship.

So far so fine, right? Here are the problems:

1. Their Henry Jekyll is an awful person. Now, let’s start by saying that of course you can have bad people in your works, those are, after-all: villains. The problem is,Henry Jekyll is a harmful walking gay sterotype, and an outlet for Biscuit’s obvious fat fetish. But their relationship isn’t just toxic it’s romanticised in how toxic it is.

a. The harmful stereotype - Their Henry Jekyll has a “thing” for younger men, even though he is in his middle-ages, and Hyde looks like a young child. (Age gap relationships are their own thing - they come with their own burdens, and this is not the post to discuss them. This topic will lead into the Edward Hyde section of this post.) But, it was a known homophobic scare-mongering tactic of straight parents to accuse everyone who is gay that they are ‘out to prey on your youths’. This is a stereotype that stigmatized the LGBT community, and still harmfully affects them to this day.

b. The fat fetish: Jekyll is frequently seen with cake (as seen here, here, and here) or being self-loathing, to the point of suicide. (click the link here to acess a list of suicide and other crisis hotlines! you matter to me!). Now, the self-loathing could be a symptom of depression or other mental illness, so I am not going to talk about it, as a person with mental illnesses. But the self-loathing in addition to him being fat is not good. Media is drowning in the “self-loathing fat person” and as someone who isn’t thin i’m tired of seeing this.

- The fetish aspect comes in him constantly being referred to “Chonky”, a term usually used for overweight/obese cats and being drawn obsessed with cake. It fetishises his weight and dehumanises him into something people call their animals. Also, here’s more of Jekyll eating food and being embarassed by it, though this time because it’s seen as “servant’s food”.

- Biscuit admits to liking them “Big and chunky” in posts like this.

[Photo id: A string of texts that says: tantok, frankenstein, twink lore, dorian slipped through the cracks and got himself sketched by yours truly the other day because he brought lord henry along, he and the slime didn’t have to fight to the death because they’ve both got their own chonky old toxic henries to focus on, but this blog still ain’t big enough for the two of ‘em. end id]

- They also talk about how they ‘prefer’ to draw fat (chonky) people. Image attatched above. the thing that should be noticed is that they say ‘chonky old toxic henries’ . they, once again, are making fat people a fetish.

[Photo id: Anonymous asks: are you gonna make a victor design tho biscuit responds: Oh, man, anon, I hate to disappoint but.....probably not. Aside from my non-humanoids and hellspwans (slime gremlins, corpse creatures, and etcetera), I’m extremely uninterested in drawing young thin men. I really need middle-aged chonk to hold my attention. If poor Victor Frankenstein had only been 40-something and round when he made his great creation, then he’d definitely get a design from yours truly. As it is though, he’s not holding my attention enough to want to. end id]

Biscuit once again talks about how he doesn’t want to draw ‘thin men’, because he is only interested in older ‘round’ people. He, is, once again, bringing to light his fetish for fat people.

2. Edward Hyde is basically a child - Edward Hyde is drawn in boy’s school clothes, is taken in and raised like a child after Jekyll’s death, and is constantly cooed over by the creator, even earning a nickname of ‘slime’ from them. In addition, he also has ‘family photos’ taken with Utterson, has his toenails kept, is the height of a child, and teeths. This, paired with the fact that he is in a toxic, abusive, relationship with a man in his middle ages is concerning and should not be romanticised.

[Photo id: the text reads: In his first year of existence, Hyde lost teeth and regrew them in a mildly similar fashion to a kid losing baby teeth - except it wasn’t all of his teeth (Just the canines and some random molars) and they weren’t replaced with a larger set, just with teeth exactly the same as the ones that had been lost. No one knows what was up with this. the teeth are still in Jekyll’s study in a little jar. end id]

a. Hyde is treated like a child after Jekyll’s death. Hyde teething is concerning because that’s something infants do. He also clings to utterson like a child. The idea that he gets taken in by Utterson, whisked away to an estate out in the country, despite both of them having romantic feelings for Jekyll is. how do I put this: WEIRD. (seriously, imagine your father/father-figure dating ur significant other / having a crush on them before you two got together and after).

b. Hyde dresses like a child, whilst being sexually active and wearing lingerie. Now, on their own, these traits aren’t a problem - but together? They are very much a problem.

- Hyde dressing as a child is concerning because he is also treated like a child at certain points in their “lore”. After Jekyll’s death, Hyde becomes a singular entity, and is taken away by Utterson. To care for, like a child. This post sums it up well: he wears both children’s clothes and lingerie.

- Hyde has a very strange appearance - if you compare it to his early design (which was less cartoony and looked more like a man in his twenties), Hyde’s current design is concerning. Why does he have the height of a child? Why does he have eyes that take up a grand part of his face? Now, one could argue that ‘he is not human’ - but if he is treated like a human, whilst wearing children’s/youthful clothes, teeths, and his general enchanment with the world - he appears as human (and looks eerily similar to a child), which is why him being sexually active, wearing lingerie, and being friendly with prostitutes (one that gave him underwear and other articles of clothing) is concerning.

- That said, Utterson is directly talked about being ‘adopted into gremlin fatherhood’ (paraphrasing).

[Photo id: the text reads: 59. Jekyll is irresitibly attracted to everything about Hyde, but if he could somehow be forced to list hte most attractive physical attributes of Edward Hyde in his opinion, aside from Hyde’s youthful appearance in general it would be his eyes, his overbite (Jekyll perceived the way Hyde’s-) the screenshot cuts of the rest of the paragraph. end id]

- Jekyll has a ‘thing’ for younger men. This is to the point that the most attractive part about Hyde is that he is young. (or looks like it), Hyde looking very young is concerning because that would make their verison of Doctor Jekyll a p*dophille . This is something the artist has either not recognized, realised, or simply does not acknowledge.

3. The toxic relationship (and how it’s romanticised) - The relationship in this ‘AU’ is: love comes first, toxic nature comes second. If you scroll through the blog you may see some reference of ‘Henry Jekyll is such a toxic person teehee’ and a lot of them kissing, being together, smiling, or enjoying life. Now, obviously, an artist - if they do not want to - should not draw characters being toxic to each other. But it is concerning when the above points come into a factor, that the toxic nature of their relationship comes second to the highs of their relationship, at least on their blog.

Here is one of the only examples I’ve seen of Biscuit talk about the relationship in a detailed negative light.

4. The fandom - Whilst Biscuit says it’s ok for minors to interact with his blog (in that blog he says that he tags nsfw - which is true.) he does not regularly mention that his jekyde is toxic - not in a concerete way. He romanticises it (despite acknowledging it’s flaws), and the only way it may or may not be (i would not know) acknowledged is his fic: which is mature and not meant for minors. He does not tag his posts with regular triggers for things like: alcohol, drugs, mental illnesses, or abuse (any variants). They’re not even in his blog’s description! If Biscuit had acknowledged it in his blog, something along the lines of: “Hey! This blog has <content warnings> be warned when interacting! But no, he does not.

- A lot of the people who draw things, or generally interact with Biscuit are minors. Being exposed to such a thing may be harmful to my peers, and I am worried. To minors who are fans of Biscuit: if you’ve made it this far, thank you, I know you’re mature and responsible, but being exposed to content creators like Biscuit could lead you down a dangerous path of having this kind of thing normalised to you. Be careful with the content you consume, please! And thank you for making it this far, I’m sure you’re a lovely person :)!

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Stay safe, tell the people you love that you love them.

#J&H #jekyll and hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #i spent months thinking whether or not to write this #but #i'm worried about fellow minors on this website seeing this user's blog #and not thinking critically about this #so i snapped and made this #long post #like r e a l l y long post #i am so tired.#brb to answer the hate lmao i need to throw up #forgive me if by the end of this post i sound exhausted : i am #i spent this evening writing this post #goth lit fandom grow up challenge #aus do not remove the context of the original #listen to the minorities if they call you out #fiction REALLY AFFECTS REALITY

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Hibiscus Kisses {2}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot Heavy, Mild Cursing, Mild Slow Burn

Words: 4.9k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Hey, hey, hey, guys! So here we are trying something different/new. I hope you enjoy this. 🤞🏽 Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Interactive**

**Slightly Pic Heavy**

Previous Chapters: 1 |

Anyone who got up and at em’ on the first day of vacation had something to prove, and you hated them. You had nothing to prove, so you kept your ass in your room and utilized the “to cabin” service. You don’t know if it was the sound of the waves from the balcony, the lull of the ship as it pushed through the water, you being physically exhausted, or if it was your emotional exhaustion that did you in. Whatever it was, you slept until it was damn near dinner time. Even then, leaving your room was not an option.

So you called for a meal to be brought to you, snuggled into the covers, and watched the available tv channels. Not wanting to watch any movies, you decided on a channel that seemed to be a mix of the animal planet, discovery channel, and a survivalist’s dream. The program that was on was something about figuring out the difference between good food and bad food. Things like this you found interesting and always watched. It wasn’t that you planned on ever needing the information but why the hell wouldn’t you be prepared for a never possibility.

When the food arrived, you were well into another program about common dangers on Caribbean islands that tourists would never know. Once you accepted the three reusable food bags, you buried yourself right back into the bed and surrounded yourself with everything you’d requested. You bet whoever prepared it thought it was for at least three people, but nope it was all yours. Vacation was about overindulging, right?

A few hours later, your phone rang. Knowing your sister’s ringtone, you answered without looking at the ID.

“You know better than not to send a message to mom before you disappear, Lulu.”

“Disappear? Lali, I am on a huge ass ship. Where am I disappearing to?”

“You know what I mean. You know if she hasn’t heard from you, then that’s just as good as disappearing,” Atali countered.

Sighing, you rubbed your forehead. Your mother was a bit much sometimes.

“I slept in.”

“All day?”

“All day,” you repeated.

“Alone?”

Kissing your teeth, you rolled your eyes and leaned back on the headboard.

“Lali, you do know it’s me you’re talking to, right?”

Atali giggled. “It is a vacation; excuse me for thinking you’d live a little.”

“There is living a little and living recklessly,” you dryly responded.

“Recklessly? Lulu, you’re the one who is sleeping with--.”

You loudly cleared your throat, interrupting what you knew she was going to say. Atali was always good for bringing up everything you wanted to forget.

“Jeez, Atali.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

You put another piece of cake into your mouth and moaned, savoring the strawberry and the smoothness of the cheesecake. You bit your bottom lip, and for some reason, your mind ran to the stranger you still had yet to get the name of.

“Met anyone on board?”

“Lali, I didn’t come here to meet anyone.”

“I know, but you still could have—in passing.”

You sighed and went over the details of his face. You really didn’t like men with that much facial hair, but it fit him well and easily made him look younger than he quite possibly was.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know his name, and he doesn’t matter. I did meet a woman.”

“Woman? You’ve been gone a day and already experimenting?”

You smiled and shook your head. “Shut up. Listen, she’s really cool. Her stories are classic, and she does her makeup like a goddess. You would like her, Lali.”

“She’s an older woman, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“You always attract these old-young souls.”

The two of you giggled together, but it went on for longer than just a few seconds. When you sighed out and leaned back against the headboard, you again thought of him.

“What’s your first port?”

“Dominican Republic, then Turks & Caicos, the British Virgin Islands after that then Aruba and Jamaica.”

“Jeez, you’re living life,” Atali commented.

“You have no idea. You should see this ship. They went all out times two with it. It’s just absolute luxury everywhere. I said pick me a ship. I didn’t say give me the Cleopatra treatment.”

“You knew what you were getting into when you asked me to do it,” Atali replied. “By the way, isn’t BVI and Turks and Caicos pretty close to Bermuda?”

Taking a moment to think about it, you responded, “Yeah. So?”

“So? Lulu, Bermuda,” Atali repeated.

When you didn’t speak immediately, she continued. “The Bermuda Triangle, dummy.”

Kissing your teeth, you rolled your eyes, “Oh god, you cannot be serious.”

“I am. Have you never heard that ships get lost and disappear in that area?”

“Lali, I’m sure there is a scientific explanation, and I am also sure that no one would charter a course near somewhere that they’d get lost, especially with hundreds of passengers,” you finished, confidant in your response.

The two of you talked for almost an hour before she was urging you to get out of your room and go to one of the clubs on the ship. You protested, but you knew she would not shut up about it, so you gave in though you had no interest in actually going. You spent the next hour going back and forth with your options. Most of you wanted to stay in bed or sit on the balcony and just get lost in the view, while the other knew that you’d only think of Javii if you did that.

Following a shower, you scanned your clothes. Once you found a cute dress, then applied a lite layer of makeup and did your hair, choosing to leave it down rather than putting it in a cute bun. Five or ten minutes later, you were standing in front of the entrance to one of the clubs—Jewel. The music from inside was lively, and you could imagine the number of young bodies pressing against each other, seeking a cheap thrill. Glancing from left to right, you decided to bite the bullet.

As soon as you stepped inside, you didn’t feel like you were on a ship in the middle of the ocean. It felt like it was a well established nightclub on solid ground. Whoever the DJ was, they were doing their thing, and it was evident from the bodies that littered the floor. It looked like this was where the parents came when their kids were tucked away in bed cuddling Tiana and Jasmine close. You walked through the crowds and saw plenty of couples making out and sharing drinks. Never again would you think to sleep on a Disney cruise. You thought it would be a chill time, but damn this was like parents gone wild.

After a few minutes of walking around and scoping things out, you found a place at one of the three bars.

“First Disney cruise?”

Snapping your head around, you looked at a smiling bartender with long hair that was piled on top of his head in a neat man bun.

“That obvious?”

“Let me guess, you expected tame, princess sing-a-longs, virgin pina coladas, and plenty of mickey mouse.”

The look on your face must have given you away because he was laughing a few seconds after he said it. You snorted and shook your head as you rearranged your dress and recrossed your legs.

“Fine, you got me.”

“It’s okay. I get how you’d think it was a tame little adventure. Why do you think we get so many reservations?”

“I thought it was for the kids,” you blurted out. It was his turn to laugh.

“Silly rabbit, while Disney is for kids, what happens after those kids lay their pretty little heads is a whole other story.”

Glancing around once more, you made a mental note never to make the mistake again. Disney cruises were probably as raunchy as Carnival or those geared toward singles. At that thought, you began to wonder how many swingers were on board, and if this was a swinger’s playground.

“What can I get you?”

“Something strong so my innocent mind can adjust.”

The bartender chuckled to himself as he walked around, preparing your drink. You bopped to the music and looked around again. Now it made sense to you when the mom of two who was preggo with her third said these cruises always gave her just what she needed. You bet they did—three fucking kids. Your mind was blown.

When the bartender slid your drink to you, he smiled and slipped away to serve the others. That was when you turned back around to people watch. There was no way you were going to dance with any of them. after a few sips of your drink, you saw him across the way. He was sitting at one of the other bars watching the dancefloor as you were. His hat was gone, and it showed you that his hair was long. The lights were too dim to make out much else, but what you couldn’t make out, you quickly filled in from your other encounter.

Before you realized your glass was empty, your eyes met and lingered on each other for several long moments. The only reason you looked away was because of the passing people who got in the way. When you looked back, his eyes weren’t on yours anymore, they were looking lower, but it was unclear if he was looking at you or someone on the dancefloor. Shaking it off, you spun around and requested another drink.

As you waited, you scrolled through your phone and did your best to fight the urge to check his social media. Javii wasn’t huge on social media. He preferred to have his team handle his brand's social side, but he did have a secret one that not many knew about. There he posted things that interested him, showed his lifestyle and his passions. It was also where he posted his “thirst traps.” You knew that if you went on, you’d find one or two, and you knew the caption was going to be code for you. You doubted you were mentally prepared enough for that psychological minefield.

“What can I get you, sir?”

“Another beer, please.”

The deep voice beside you had your finger pausing before you tapped the circle with Javii’s picture that indicated he’d made a new story. When you looked next to you there, he was again. The dim and colored lights in the room gave you a new appreciation of his eyes. It was at this moment you knew he got a lot of attention from women. With eyes like those, how could he not? He looked at you and smiled, and that sold it for you. His teeth were perfect, and though his smile made the wrinkles at the sides of his eyes more prominent, it also made his face light up. He looked like a kind man--a gentle one perhaps.

“Either you’re following me around, or we’d call this fate.”

You couldn’t help but smile. The cocky on him was so strong. It was a familiar cocky.

“Or you’re following me around. You’re the one who bumped into me twice,” you countered.

“Eh, I was the one doing the catching, so it’s more feasible that you’re following me.”

He wore a soft grin, one that you mirrored.

“Maybe if you weren’t like a brick wall, you wouldn’t have to catch me.”

“I’m not complaining,” he responded. You stared at him and quickly got his meaning. Again, you couldn’t help but smile. Not only was he cocky, but he was charming, you thought.

You finished your drink with one raise of your hand. When you lowered your glass, you watched as he raked his fingers through his hair, bringing it full out of his face. It was then you recognized him.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Now I know where I’ve seen you from.”

He looked confused. “Now? You didn’t know this whole time?”

“No. You looked familiar, but I couldn’t place you.”

The look on his face was a lite one. He softly scoffed and raised his bottle to his head, and took a few gulps of his beer. When he lowered it, he spoke again.

“That’s refreshing. I’m not used to people not recognizing me.”

“That must suck. I couldn’t imagine living my life under suck a microscope,” you said without thinking. When you realized what you’d said, you glanced at him and tried to backtrack.

“Uh—what I mean is--.”

He smiled and shook his head. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I’m Chris,” he replied, holding out his hand to you. When you touched his hand, you were surprised by how soft they were. He’d never used them for manual labor a day in his life, you thought.

“Ajali,” you responded.

“Aja—li, he slowly repeated, trying to mirror how you said it.

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s a beautiful name, very unique,” Chris noted.

“Thank you.”

“What do your friends call you, Aja?”

You looked at him after raising your hand to the bartender, signaling you’d like another.

“Why? Are we friends?”

Chris smiled and dipped his head down, making his hair fall into his face. He looked good with long hair and this grizzly beard combo. Again, he raked his fingers through his hair before he looked at you.

“We can be. We can be good friends if you like.”

Searching his eyes, you tried to find evidence in there to match the flirtatious tone of his voice.

“What if my husband isn’t into that?”

Chris smiled and turned his body to you. “You don’t have a husband. From the first time we bumped into each other, I noticed you’re not wearing a wedding ring, nor do you have any tan lines to signify you’re hiding one.”

Raising your eyebrow, you allowed his words to sink in. “I could have--,” you began.

“—Kids? Nah, you were alone the first time outside and again on the deck when I passed you and the night in the dining room and even at the show.”

He’d been watching you.

“No, I’m not stalking you, I promise,” Chris quickly spoke up. “Plus, even if you had kids, it wouldn’t matter. I like kids—they like me.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. When you got your drink, you took a long sip.

“So you’re alone here on this family Disney cruise. That alone deserves a question,” Chris continued.

“It does. You’re also alone on this same family Disney cruise,” you countered. Chris nodded and took another sip of his beer before he leaned closer to you.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he whispered.

There was no way you were going to divulge personal information to a stranger, no matter if he were Captain America. You spun to face him, then uncrossed your legs to recross them. His eyes dropped to your thighs, and that told you what you needed to know. He was on this cruise for hookups. Scoffing, you finished your drink.

“Your eyes just told me yours.” You slipped off the barstool and stood before him, leaning in just a little. “I hear Disney cruises are the place to be for after dark entanglements, and you’re in the right place. Have a good night.”

You walked away, not giving him a chance to respond. Instead of moving to another bar, you decided to leave. You’d heard plenty of rumors and stories of Chris Evans and his booty calls, and you were not impressed. He was clearly here for easy, strings free sex. You’d heard more than you needed to about how he met his hook up buddies and just not was textbook. You were not here to be another notch in his bedpost.

-The Next Day-

-The Dominican Republic, 11:10 am

As you walked through the ship, everyone was abuzz with excitement for the first port. You were also excited but not to disembark like everyone else. You’d been to the Dominican Republic plenty of times and had no intention of going out today. You had a plan, and it was to soak up the quiet and empty ship. You wanted to get a spa treatment, a massage, and soak in the hot tub or the steam room and allow the essential oils to work their magic on the tension coursing through your body.

“Attention passengers, we are officially docked. I’d like to be the first to welcome you to the beautiful Dominican Republic. As you disembark, a reminder that we will be leaving port promptly at ten o'clock. Please be on time, ladies and gentlemen, and enjoy your days.”

While everyone was walking in one direction, you were walking in the opposite. Everyone was decked out in their beachwear and sunscreen, and you could tell these kids planned on swimming every inch of that beach. The ride on the elevator was a quick one because you were going lower than everyone else. The spa was on the first level below water. The pamphlet advertised it as being one with the sea thanks to the unmatched view of the ocean and life under the sea. You were excited.

Once you got to the spa entrance, you smiled, seeing that it was completely empty.

“Welcome to Aqua Spa. My name is Vikki.”

“Hi. Am I the only one?”

“You are the first here. Between you and me, I don’t expect many guests being the first port and all,” the blond wearing a sea blue uniform said.

“Excellent.”

“Have you reserved?”

“Yes, Ajali Rambaue.”

You watched her scan the computer screen before her. It didn’t take her long to smile again.

“Ms. Rambaue, welcome. I see you’ve booked the clearing treatment, a gold facial followed by the milk and rose oil bath,” Nikki listed.

Just her listing off your treats had you even more excited. Nodding, you confirmed. She returned your smile and ushered you through the spa. You could already see the blue hue from the portholes, and it bathed the entire spa in the same blue. It felt as if you were gliding underwater, completely immersed with the other creatures.

“Right this way.” You followed her into the room and gasped. The entire room was completely blue, and the sight before you through the clear window was breathtaking.

“Incredible, isn’t it? I guess you can see why they named her Enchantment.”

Maybe Lali’s splurge wasn’t so bad, you thought.

“So, the clearing treatment is an intricate one. You can change behind this screen as I prepare the room for you and your therapist,” Nikki explained.

You stepped behind the glass screen that immediately frosted once you were behind it, then began undressing and listened to her explain the treatment.

“Not only is it an incredible treatment, but it stretches to about three hours from start to finish. World-renowned masseuses and acupuncturist Jadenna Sole designed it. He aimed for it to restore the body’s balance. It does this through a mixture of Eastern and European techniques.”

When you stepped out, you were wrapped in the towel and sighed, seeing the newly lit candles that warmed the room. If you were doing a couple’s massage, this would have been the perfect atmosphere.

“It begins with a full-body exfoliation with sea salt and Indian Kama oil. After your therapist will perform a lymph system massage, and that will prep the body for your Swedish massage. After that, then your body will be wrapped in neem black clay, and you’ll sit and allow it to seep into your pores. Then you’ll rinse and sit in your milk and rose oil bath to then rinse again, and the finishing touch would be an intricate blend of oils and herbs rubbed into your skin that will help your chakras realign,” Nikki finished.

You were impressed as hell. You’d never expect a treatment like this on a cruise. It was more something for Manhattan among the rich. As you got comfortable on the table, you could hardly contain your excitement. When your massage therapist arrived and introduced herself as Marta, you prepared yourself to be shot into space. Massages were your thing. Lali joked that massages were your love language.

When Marta began the exfoliation process, it was relaxing enough for you to nearly fall asleep. You hadn’t realized how tense you were these last few days. You blamed Javii. It was all his fault. After twenty or so minutes, Marta rinsed you then really got started with the massage, all the while putting her back into it. She was a lot stronger than she looked. The pressure was perfect, and the scents from the oils were sublime. In no time, you were drifting from the ground into the sky.

After an hour, your mind was completely blank, and the knot between your shoulder blades was nearly gone. Marta made a few comments on how tense your muscles were and gave pointers on how to prevent locked muscles. You listened as she spoke and tried to retain the information, but you were too distracted with how relaxed you felt. By the time two hours had passed, your muscles were putty, and Marta was now on your gold facial.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten one. You and Lali often got them together as part of your sisters day. They were good for your complexion and elasticity. Your mother often stressed that collagen loved you when you were young but liked to play hide and seek the older you got and that you should cherish it and do all you could to maintain your healthy skin. You and Lali listened. After Marta finished applying the mask, you laid back and listened to the sounds of the classical music playing and drifted off to sleep.

When you awoke, it was time to wipe the concoction off and dip into your milk and rose oil bath. The warmth of the mixture had you moaning. There was something so luxurious about lounging in milk like you were an Egyptian queen that had you feeling like a boss. The mask that was applied to your hair was slowly hardening, so you fought the urge to dip your head back. Instead, you leaned back onto the cushions and sighed again.

The silence in the room was just what you needed. Any stress you’d been feeling was a distant memory now. This was just what you needed, you thought.

“Who knew milk and rose oil could be so relaxing.”

Your eyes snapped open as you looked from side to side, trying to see if someone was beside you. The tub pods were empty, and from what you could see, you were alone.

“I’m glad I took Nikki’s recommendation for this over the peppermint soak,” the voice spoke again. You recognized it. Spinning around, you saw a bare back behind yours. He was close enough to touch.

Chris turned around to face you. His face was painted with a mask, only keeping his eyes and lips visible. You quickly forgot your state of undress, but you somehow knew of his. Your eyes dipped down to his bare shoulders and the hair that laid across his chest. You saw a peek of two and a possible third tattoo, and your curiosity piqued.

“Fancy seeing you here, Ajali,” Chris said as his eyes dropped lower. You looked lower on yourself to see your breasts almost out of the milk enough for him to see some nipple. Quickly you sunk down and turned back around, facing your back to him.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Same as you.” You sighed and hugged your legs to your body.

“Shouldn’t they have men in a separate room or something?”

“I’ve seen a naked woman before,” Chris informed with a scoff. You turned around from the tone of his voice.

“I bet you have. You’ve seen plenty naked women.”

Chris turned to face you with his brows knitted together as if he fully got your meaning.

“Just what are you insinuating?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Are you suggesting that I came on this cruise to sleep with unassuming women?”

You shrugged and turned back around, keeping your back straight.

“Wow, that’s insulting. Where do you get off?”

You remained quiet. He must have taken your silence as more judgment because he spoke again.

“I didn’t come on this cruise to snake myself into someone’s bed. I came because I needed a change of pace, some breathing room. Hollywood gets confining, and the more confining it gets, the more I feel like I’m—suffocating.”

Slowly you turned to look at him. His back was turned so you trailed your eyes over the exposed skin of his back and saw peeks of more tattoos. The man was getting sexier with each passing minute. His shoulders were broad and looked incredibly strong. The low light in the room didn’t help you see anything else, but you could more than imagine everything else.

“So, the confines of a ship wouldn’t feel suffocating?”

Chris turned to look at you.

“There is Hollywood confinement and this. This is not confinement. I have freedom here; I’m not watched like a hawk. Yeah, someone will recognize me here or there, but they are so respectful. For the most part, it is always quick. Plus, I don’t mind talking to the kids.”

This was the second time he brought up kids, you thought.

“Plus, now I’ve met someone who seems to have no problem telling me I’m a whore.”

Immediately you snorted loudly then laughed. “I never called you that.”

“Hinted at it is just the same as saying the words,” Chris accused.

You smiled and sighed, and your eyes lingered on his.

“It’s refreshing again. A lot of women will say what they think I want to hear or be how they think I want them to be.

“Not me.”

“Not you.”

It was said in unison. Once both of you realized what you’d said, you laughed together.

“It must be something having women fawn all over you.”

Chris shrugged, and again your eyes fell to his shoulders, and that is where they remained.

“Something is the word. It gets old, though—real quick.”

When your eyes met again, he held your gaze. “I’m sure men fawn all over you too.”

You took a deep breath and sighed out. “I’m sure they don’t.”

Chris snorted and gave you a “yeah right” look.

“I’m sure you’re full of shit. You’re a beautiful woman.” His eyes dropped below your face again, but they quickly came back up.

You turned your back to him again and stared into the milk and oil concoction. He wasn’t wrong, though he wasn’t right either. Men didn’t fawn over you. Yeah, you got attention from men a lot but to go as far as saying they fawned over you was a stretch. You didn’t notice any man besides Javii for the last three years.

“This is supposed to be a relaxing spa day for me. Maybe we should cut the talking out and just enjoy the rest of it,” you suggested, a little salty he’d reminded you of what you’d come to forget.

“Sure thing,” Chris softly answered.

The two of you remained in your separate bath pods without speaking one more word. However, you were aware of his body and every move he made. His body gave off this energy that felt like your body reached out for. So instead of fully relaxing, you’d spent the time fighting the sway of your body or the urge to slink closer.

An hour later, you were in your clothes again and feeling ten times better than when you’d walked in. You thanked the staff and gave a generous tip, then left. When you got into the elevator, you leaned on the wall and sighed. As the doors closed, a hand stretched out, preventing it from closing. Chris then stepped onto the elevator with that stupid grin.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he joked as he pressed the six that was already lit up.

“Is six your floor too?”

“Maybe.” He nodded and leaned on the wall beside you.

The two of you rode the elevator and looked outside the glass enclosure to the ship and even the ocean outside.

“They did a fantastic job with the ship. Even though you’re not on an island right now, you feel like it’s still a tropical vacation.”

You nodded, agreeing with him.

“Do you come on Disney cruises often?”

You shook your head. “No. This is a first.”

Chris lit up and smiled widely. “Wow. It’s been a while since I’ve met a first-timer.”

“I take it you’re not.”

“Nope, veteran. I come on a cruise at least once a year and go to Disneyworld and land twice a year,” Chris excitedly bragged.

“Oh, a little boy trapped in a grown man’s body,” you teased.

Chris chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eh, nothing wrong with being a little boy.”

“Only if you aren’t that way because you refuse to grow up,” you responded. Chris looked at you and kept his eyes there. The ding of the elevator brought your attention back to the dial.

“Six.”

You walked out the door, then turned left and proceeded to your room, wondering the whole way if that was a bitch thing to say. You had to learn to censor, you thought as you scanned your wrist and stepped into your room. Peeping back, you saw Chris still walking to his room with his head dipped low as if he’d lost his best friend.

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

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#hibiscus kisses fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction

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sarah-sandwich · 3 years

Text

Silly me thought I could continue yesterday's writing streak if I got up early. Cali had other plans in mind...

Anyway, here's some of yesterday's good work on michelle.mp3 💪🙌

Her phone rings while she’s elbow deep in murky tub water scrubbing the rug that formerly resided inside the front door. Turns out it’s blue, not gray.

She glances at the caller ID then quickly dries her hands on her thighs and accepts the call, putting it on speaker. “‘Sup, nerd.” She picks up her scrub brush and goes back to attacking the rug.

“Oh thank God, you’re alive!”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m alive, Ned. I’ve been texting you on the hour since I got here.”

“Not earlier you didn’t! There was a period between 3:35 and 4:57 where I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, MJ. Do you understand what kind of stress I’m under? I can’t spend hours every day worrying for your safety. You said you’d text.”

“It was one hour. I’m in the rural countryside, not the jungle. I haven’t even left the state. Get a hold of yourself.”

Ned sighs, crackling the speaker. “Maybe you have a point but I just… You know I worry and I’m sorry, but I still don’t really get why you left.”

Her hands still on the rug as Ned continues.

“It’s like… it’s like you don’t want to be friends anymore,” he says in a small voice, like it’s a shameful worry to admit aloud. That’s Ned though. He always says what needs to be said, whether you want to hear it or not.

“We’re friends, Ned,” she assures him. “You and me are friends, and me and Peter,” her throat threatens to close on the name but she presses on, “we’re friends too. We just need some time. I’m not gone forever, I told you this.”

“Then why does it feel like it is? Why is Peter— Never mind.”

She gets to her feet and puts the phone to her ear, taking it off speaker. “Why is Peter what, Ned?” she asks in her most serious do-not-bullshit-me-right-now tone. “Is he okay? Is he hurt?”

“No and yes!” Ned bursts like a dam succumbing to a single tap from a hammer. “He’s crying on the couch watching Toy Story 3 as we speak. That’s some messed up self-destructive behavior if you ask me, MJ. No one is making him watch it! He just put it on and he has his comforter off his bed and he’s sobbing. I don’t know what to do!”

She takes a deep breath through constricted lungs and perches on the toilet. “I don’t know either,” she admits. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t… We can’t be around each other right now. We’re still friends,” she interjects before Ned can interrupt. “We… We need time to figure how to be just friends, you know?”

“No, I really don’t. Friends spend time together. Why can’t you just come home and we’ll—,”

“I am home, Ned,” she interrupts. She rocks to her feet and yanks the drain out of the tub. “This is what I need. Are you telling me I should put that aside and—,”

“No, no that’s not— I want you to do what’s best for you but, Em, I’m really out of my depth here. You’re supposed to be the one that deals with him when he gets moody but he’s like this because of you this time so I don’t know what to do!”

He’s like this because of you.

Her heart is raw as she says calmly, “Be there for him. Call May if you need backup and call me if things get really bad, okay?”

Ned sighs. “Okay, fine. I’m worried about you too, you know. You can’t keep brushing that off. I know you’re hurting and you’re alone out there in the wild and I can’t do anything for you and that freaks me out.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not alone,” she says before she thinks better of it. She winces. Ned’s imagination running wild is nearly audible. She hastens to explain, “I met my neighbor this afternoon. A pushy musician who drums in the middle of the night and forcibly lends me power tools. Lucky me, right?” She tucks the phone between her shoulder and cheek and wrings out the rug. The water splashing down into the tub is the only sound. “Ned?”

“Ohmigod, he’s not some creepy douchebag, is he?” Ned bursts, nearly hysterical. “MJ, I’m seriously worried now.”

She rolls her eyes and steps into the hallway. “Ned, relax. She is very nice, okay? She brought over her tools so I can use them whenever I want.”

She passes through the kitchen and opens the front door. A chorus of crickets and a myriad of other insects that she can’t identify greets her as she drapes the rug over the porch railing to dry.

“Oh,” Ned says.

She leans a hip against the rail and cranes her neck to see the stars littering the sky beyond the awning. In the city if you’re lucky you can see a handful on a clear night. It’s nothing like this.

“She’s nice?” he asks.

She pulls a face. “She…has her moments.” Probably. “I’m in good hands, alright? Just focus on Peter and remember to take care of yourself too, okay? Go out and get a slushie or something before you deal with Peter. If it gets to be too much call me and I’ll figure something out.”

“Good hands?” Ned echoes, a teasing note creeping into his voice.

She hangs her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. Sometimes he’s impossible to have a conversation with.

“Drummer, power tools…” Ned continues. “I bet she’s very good with her hands. How close are you two again?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Ah-ha! So you admit—,”

“I admit nothing. Goodbye, Nedward.”

She hangs up, cutting off his kissing noises, and the stillness of the night envelopes her. A light breeze rifles through her curls, warm and humid but refreshing in a way the city could never be in June when everything seems to carry the stink of hot garbage. She closes her eyes and focuses on the feel of it against her skin, the tickle of it in her hair.

He’s like this because of you.

Her heart breaks all over again. It’s true. She hurt him, she knows she did, but… Isn’t this the way it’s supposed to be? Who actually marries their high school sweetheart? You’re not supposed to have your entire life figured out at sixteen or twenty-four. She still needs time to learn herself, to grow, to change, and explore everything the world has to offer. New York has given her all it can but she wants more and Peter… Peter is married to New York in a way she could never be to him. That’s not a criticism, that’s simply a truth. A truth neither of them wanted to face until that stupid song opened her eyes and made her realize that she’s not ready to be Michelle Parker and she never will be.

#mine #michelle.mp3 #mmp3 #i really need to consolidate those tags oh well #michelle jones #writing post-break up spideychelle is making me sad yo #but mj and gwen are sickening enough to make up for it #ned my beloved #beautiful wonderful dear heart ned #lmao i've used that tag before #anyway ned and mj are besties change my mind #sswrites

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

I have a head cannon that bakugou would not be sweet to who he liked or dated and instead deny it and hate on them even more.

The reason being because he doesn’t really understand feelings so, when he’s talking badly about you he just assumes it’s normal and a bit funny at the lies he’s spitting that his just continuously friends are eating up.

he’s been talking bad about people for years so , who cares if your his s/o your no acceptation all people are equal in his mind. Now lemme explain please fall in line and hold a buddys hand kids we’re going on a trip inside my brain

It wasn’t easy getting the spiky haired male to ask you out honestly if someone asked you , which they’d never dare since they’d never know per bakugous request him saying it’s not their business , how you two got together you would shrug your shoulders and walk off.

It wasn’t that it was a boring day or a simple question that you supplied the answer for. It was that it was unusual.

You’d been at quirk practice after school in the gym like you’d usually do only this time bakugou made his way over to you.

You’d been seeing him more often when you were in the gym and you weren’t sure why until he explained that he was interested in your workout routine saying you two could have a contest to see who’s was more grueling

It seemed like fun so like any competitive person you agreed. Only for him to tap out on day two your laughs swirling around the gym as he fought so hard to say he only lost because he just didn’t like how the air would hit his ass crack anytime he did your little girly squats you’d wrote down for him.

You couldn’t say you weren’t both confused and happy when he let the air calm down before he spoke “ i’m kind of conflicted “ his eyes coming up to look at yours from the floor “ could you maybe help me“

“ of course what’s up “

“ i’m at a standstill “

“ more like a sit still “ you joked eyes peering down at his straight face “ yeah ok let’s imagine that didn’t happen —continue “

“ uh yeah anyways — i’m at a standstill because honestly I like your shit workout “ he shook his head to the floor “ but I also like you so I find myself thinking if I couldn’t get through your workout even though I enjoyed it so much could I “

his voice rasped shakily “ could I get through a relationship with you even though I like you even more “

truthfully you’d wish you’d said no because right now you wanted nothing more than to just be friends with the male sitting across the room from you.

It’s not that you didn’t like him of course you did he was hot , smart, and felt strongly about his goals but, he was an asshole.

Not in the aspect of hes just mean and rude but he was an all around prick as he laughed with his friends from across the room.

Their voices only getting louder as you sat alone a few seats away from them trying to complete some work on your desk you’d just been given “ dude gotta admit class 1-A’s got some hot chicks “

“ yeah honestly minas top three if we’re being truthful “

“mina dude come on have you seen jirou “

“ don’t even get me started “ denkis voice came out in a soft groan “ god I would— “

“ yeah yeah all that jazz but “ seros voice came out soft. His hand coming up to point at the seat as you sat in with your head down eyes furrowed in anger at the math on your paper that wasn’t syncing up with your brain right now

“ y/n “ his fist tightened as he groaned “ y/n could get it on all accounts — the car “

“ you don’t have a car “ denkis voice came out as sero continued

“ the school bathroom “

“ but which one ? because one of you would have to go in the wrong sex’s unless its a handicap or family stal-“

“the fucking dorms “

“ y/n ? “ kirishima asked quickly “ y/n l/n ? “

“ fuck yeah “

“ hmm “ kirishima studied you before shaking his head “ honestly kinda hot never really paid attention to that stuff before though “

“ what the fuck how can’t you “

“ uh i’m more so a personality guy “

“ so by personality would you fuck em ‘ “

“ not to be vulgar but of course “ his answer taking no time “ y’know how fun they’d be in a relationship though not just with sex ? imagine cuddles—fuck —what about cuddle monster y/n maybe ? god that’d be so hot “

denki getting restless as he held his thoughts in from the other males. His mind spazzing before finally getting to speak “ i’d fuck her too “ he yelled everyone’s eyes going sharp on the boy before he coughed “ id rock it too — we’re talking about getting mullets “

“ oh boys that’d be kinda hot “ you said laughing sarcastically sero turning to you smiling softly “ oh yeah on who in particular “

“ mm totally blondie over there “

“ the fuck ? “ his eyes shot away from denkis and moved to yours anger pouring through his gaze making you jerk back a little in surprise “ the hell you mean i’d look hot “

your eyebrows creased “ well because I — you do you would “

“ don’t go talking out of your ass you hear me—shit people like you don’t deserve to talk to anyone about looks “ your mouth went dry at his lazer stare.

His lips curling up into a smirk before he shook his head “ these assholes are talking about fucking you yknow “ he whispered to you “ you gonna let em ? you gonna let em right? because that’s the only attention you’d ever get right “

“ bakubro hold up chill out “

“ yeah bakubro chill out “ you said your gaze wavering from the hard one you’d had when you felt the heat radiating off of him no comfort coming from him to you only confusing you more. Had you two been in a secret argument that you knew nothing about

“ whatever “ he leaned back in his chair as the class went back to what they were doing your hands gripping the pencil when the class got even louder but you only searching for your boyfriends voice easily drowning out the others

“ i’d never fuck “ your heart broke at the deep voice youd identified

“ dude seriously come on with the lies —fucking beautiful “

“ correctomundo my friend their absolutely stunning “

his laugh ripping through their claims hand jerking back to point at you “ you think their beautiful much less hot ? “

“ yeah you don’t ? “ denki spat all of them looking at the boy like he was crazy for enjoying this obviously racy topic right now much less taking the wrong side of the debate

“ I literally just sat here and said I wouldn’t fuck em’ pokémon —so you can guess what that correlates to “

“ hey dude why’re you being sucha a dick —the personality’s top tier even if your stupid enough to think their not at least hot“ kirishima putting the ending words in quotation marks honestly a bit upset with his friend

“ hey watch it your over here defending an extra like your gonna make moves on em “ he laughed “ I advise otherwise “

you let out a sigh thinking he’d finally stopped acting the way he was. Your mind preparing to only give him the silent treatment for today and then tomorrow peppering him with kisses until he laughed and apologized for his words

Heart only being snatched away from your body when you heard his deep vibrating voice cut through the room “ probably gonna give you a rash from all the shit that’s on their mouth all the time “

it’s just lipgloss.

Lipgloss bakugou bought you packs of earlier this week after he swore he loved the taste and scent.

moving to wipe at it gently with the sleeve of your outfit him still going causing tears to start building up in your eyes “ bet the bitch doesn’t even shower —had em’ over for a project last night had to wash my sheets and blanket —took hours last night “

“ oh “ denki let out “ I was a bit confused when I saw you at the laundry room at 3 in the morning.

Tears blurring your vision as you thought about his earlier words when he’d given you your favorite sweater of his after saying he’d washed it for you because he knew you wouldn’t do it yourself because in his words ‘ you would never wash it without his help because you were a creep and didn’t want to erase his smell or some shit ‘

“ yeah —smelled so bad im telling you stay away you don’t wanna ask em’ out “

you moved to grab your phone as he kept talking you typing out a message as best as you could before hitting send. His hand moving off the desk and going in his pants pocket to pull his phone out keeping it hidden under the table eyes trailing over the screen

Firefighter >3

baby are we arguing

if your mad at me please just tell me don’t just talk shit about me in front of your friends

him locking his phone and placing it on his desk before you typed out one more message him letting out a sigh as he grabbed for it again

firefighter >3

if you keep going we’re over

“ but imagine whoever bags them apart from bakugou at least since we all know he’s all anti hot y/n “

“ they’d be so lucky “

“ yeah right “ he spoke lowly almost trying to hide his voice from you eyes glued to his phone “ wouldn’t dare “

“ wouldnt dare what bakugou “

“ oh wouldnt dare be —-be lucky “ he locked his phone again “ feel bad for the person dating them all the shit they gotta go through put up with , claims they make through message and not with real words, being too much of a pussy to speak up for themselves“

he shook his head softly eyes twitching “ you wouldn’t put up with that —you couldn’t put up with that your not built for it you gotta have tough skin y’know like me “

he licked his lips moving to sit up straighter when hearing his phone vibrate “ don’t uh “

firefighter >3

one more bakugou

one more bakugou katsuki and were over

his eyes darting over to yours before his eyebrows furrowed and body shook in anxiousness he couldn’t figure out what to do.

He was an asshole you knew this so why the fuck were you being such a crybaby now? did he pick the wrong person to date he thought you were strong

He genuinely just wanted to keep these creeps away from what’s his by scaring them off he wasn’t doing anything wrong? well at least in his eyes

He moved to talk again trying his best to string together a nice sentence “ just don’t uh ask —ask em’ out —-their utter dog shit when it comes to relationships leave it to someone who can handle that y’know “

he relaxed into his chair at his victory when he watched you throw your phone to the table and fix your skirt and standup. Him sighing out when you picked up your stuff to leave “ thank all might “ he whispered head shooting to lean back against his desk chair and look up at the sky blood running cold when his phone vibrated against the table

firefighter >3

all your shits gonna be outside my dorm door. So you might want to come collect it before I have half and half lighting campfires tonight

y’know since i’m such a shit person —gotta hope your bestie deku can give me some after school lessons on personalities. He’s so sweet I bet he’ll fix me right up

screw you katsuki see you in hell

“ the —the fuck what did —the hell did I do wrong “ he screamed when he saw you slam the classroom door after flicking him off

his friends eyes moving from the door to bakugous phone that he’d thrown on the table.

Todorokis eyes going wide when he read his stupid nickname given to him by the steamy male “ I —I uh“ he coughed “ I think i’m gonna go help y/n since their now single—don’t want em’ getting hurt with amateur fire starters again when i’m right here “

his stone face peered down at the red faced boy “ I mean that is ok with you bakugou seeing as though you two were most likely in a relationship by the messages before today “

“ you asshole did you go through me and my s/o’s messages “

“ judging by the series of recent text I don’t believe that’s the case for you two anymore “ he reached to grab his backpack saying a formal goodbye before he spoke “ I feel like i’m needed by a very —very perfectly intelligent unshitty person right now “

seros voice coming out softly as he let bakugous phone fall to the table disappointment in his eyes “ look uh —dude you didn’t have to mess your relationship up just to go against us ? “ he winced at the claim“ honestly you could’ve stayed quiet the whole time —it’s not like we agreed with you anyways “

bakugou leaned back in his chair anger swirling in his stomach as he felt his body sweat at the new heat spreading throughout his whole body.

How the hell did he mess up where the hell did he mess up he explained to you he wasn’t gonna treat you any differently than any other extra here and that went for basic conversations too

Maybe he went a bit far with the dont date em ‘ that was probably it you didn’t like how he said don’t date you because he was the only one who could handle you right ?

He shook his head a bit confused you just wanted him to say that you could handle yourself and didn’t need him right ?

So , why the hell did he feel like he’d done something wrong he wasn’t stupid but he just wasn’t well versed in feelings. He already didn’t know how to handle his own so how was he expected to handle another persons.

To him his words were normal he talked about all people like this hell, he bullied deku for 3 years going as far as to make a special nickname for him

that wasn’t even the worse he could’ve done and you knew that so why was he in trouble and worrying about Icy hot taking his place

He was honestly confused?

Could words really be that hurtful?

could his words really be that hurtful ?

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