#ash is in his early/mid twenties

[cosmicheartz]

Thinking abt my au abt Ash being Likos adoptive dad

#also i did not realize I’ve been saying her name wrong bc I thought it was Riko #might ramble abt it in the future but just know it takes place like a decade or so after journeys #ash is in his early/mid twenties #he’s currently just vibing and living life #plus doing all the champion stuff for alola #he’s at kanto when he encounters Liko #and he takes her back to his house so he and his mom can contact Officer Jenny and try to find her parents #it’s unknown what happened to her bio parents but I’m gonna either assume they’re neglectful or dead #so Ash decides to adopt her since she needs a support system

[userpedros]

wash your hands || joel miller

joel miller x female reader

summary: you run into dads best friend joel when he comes to pick something up from your fathers. (the shrooms never existed in this and they ate the birthday pancakes and all was good ok)

warnings: 18+ this is smut. age gap (reader is in her late twenties and joel in his mid forties), p in v, creampie, oral seggs, hair pulling, fingering, praise kink, slight cum eating (not really but also yes)

authors note: this has not been beta read or proof read. i haven't written in a long time. this came to mind and it completely spilled out of my head

word count: 5.7k - it's long because i never shut up

Suddenly, there he was. She knew what he was thinking, he knew what she was thinking. It was fair to say they were definitely on the same page. They certainly had been for a while. It was unspoken and only noticeable through small touches here and there, small glances, winks and shifted jeans.

You’d had it bad for you dads’ good friend, Joel for a while now and he had it bad for you. You’d never acted on it and he never did either. But there was a shift in the air that told you things were about to change. The rock that settled in the pit of your stomach and the glance he gave you just now when you walked through the front door was only future indicative of what was to come. 

It’d been a few years since you last saw him. You’d been home from college on a break then. You were in your early twenties, and things had changed significantly since you’d last seen him at 19. You’d grown. You weren’t the same girl Joel had watched go off to college when he met your father. Your body shape had changed, your attitude was different; mature but still held an essence of the sunshine you’d had before. Now you were the same girl that came home from that college break back then, but you were even better. Joel didn’t know that it was possible, for someone to age this well within a few years. You were young, but you’d aged so gracefully in the few years since he’d seen you.

Everything was as it had always been for you, but there was something else there. You felt it when you walked through the door. Joel had aged too. You were in your early twenties then the last time you’d seen him, now you were in your mid to late twenties; he was now in his mid-forties, but you had to admit he had aged like fine wine.

The sight of his salt and peppered dark brown hair almost had you drooling. His dark brown eyes had always captured you in a trance. Today was no different.

“Long time no see, Joel.” You smirked as you passed him in the kitchen. Your father and Joel were standing in the kitchen, talking over the island about some job they had just taken. Joel was leaning against the edge of the island, cigarette dangling from his long, calloused fingers. He took a look up at you, angling his head up slightly as he leaned down to ash his cigarette in the tray. Your father stood across the island from him, arms crossed, as one hand pinched the bridge of his nose, while a cigarette dangled in his other hand.

Smoke filled the air, sun light streamed through the window, illuminating the tendrils of smoke that swirled through the air as your eyes connected.

The air immediately felt thick and heavy as you stared back at him, His back straightened slightly as he took in your form.

You were wearing a light blue sundress that tied in the front, showing off a tiny amount of under boob, the tie leaving a little gap underneath it. He looked you up and down, his eyes instantly shifting moods as he removed his cigarette and coughed into his hand, looking away. As usual, Joel was wearing a plaid and pants that were a little too tight on his thick thighs. Simple but the image did the job for you.

He looked down at the floor while you and your father conversed for a moment, talking about your days and making slight small talk about the weather. Joel stood quietly, keeping his gaze trained on the tile as he took in the spots definitely needed to be re-grouted.

You kissed your father on the cheek as you reached onto the counter top, grabbing some mail that had been incorrectly sent to his house.

 “Do you boys have any exciting plans for tonight?” You looked over to your father and then to Joel and wiggled your eyebrows playfully.

Your father chuckled a laugh as he straightened a little, putting his cigarette out.

“No big plans tonight doll, was just tryin’ to convince Joel here to stay and hangout out with a couple of buddies. Maybe play some poker and drink a little bit.” He shook his head, lowering it as he continued to chuckle to himself.

Joel took the opportunity to look into your eyes before quickly looking away again. “Doesn’t sound like the old mans got it in ‘em.”

You laughed a little as you stepped back taking a look at your dad, giving him a big smile. “Pot callin’ the kettle black huh, old man.”

You stepped around your father as you headed towards the stairs. Your father laughed at your response as you reached the first step. “And what do you have planned for tonight, sweetheart?” He called out.

“’M not too sure, probably just going to hang out around the house, might go out. Depends on if you boys get too rowdy.” You shrugged and laughed as you locked eyes with Joel once more. The look he gave you sent shivers that raked down your body. You winked as you caught his gaze. For once, he winked back before turning away faster than you could register.

“I’ll catch you old men later!” You laughed as you bounced up the stairs. You reached your old room, smiling to yourself before shutting the door with a blush staining your cheeks.

You were practically running down the stairs. It was 11:49 and you were running dramatically late to a lunch with some of your friends, one that had been planned for months for when you came back into town. You’d been out earlier looking at apartments and houses for rent in the area, causing you to be a bit behind on time.

As you reached the bottom of the steps, you heard the familiar boom of laughter that sent your heart straight to the pit of your stomach. You could see his face already, before it even came into view. It was the one that stayed etched in the back of your mind. The face you saw at night when the door was closed and your hand was under the covers. The face that consumed your every thought lately, ever since you came back into town.

Joel’s smiling face came into view as you reached the bottom step. He turned to look at you, his smile dropping and his eyes becoming a bit more serious. He looked down again and shifted his stance before bringing his eyes back to yours. You tried not to notice how intense his gaze was as you reached the front door.

“I’ll see you later dad! I’m heading out to lunch with some friends!” Your hand reached the door knob as your dad called out for you to stop for a moment. You turned to face him as your hand released the knob.

“Quick question honey. Not actually a question from me but Joel has something he needs to ask you.” He nodded over to Joel as he took a sip from his drink.

As soon as Joel’s name dropped from his mouth, you straightened your back and decided that right then and there you could care less if you were late. You quickly took your phone out and texted your friends letting them know you’d be an extra five minutes late.

As you walked over to your father and Joel, you took notice in the way he was leaning against the counter tops. His arms were straining against the short-sleeved tee he had on, his jeans were hugging his thighs as always. He looked damn good today, the sweat dripping from his grey dusted brown locks made you wish you had a pillow to scream into.

You looked over at your father as he began to dive into something you were only half listening too. Your ears only really began to work as soon as the words, “Joel” and “daughter needs a tutor…” were out of his mouth.

You turned and looked back to Joel as soon as your father finished.

“It’s true, Sarah does need a tutor. You think you’d be available in a day or two?” Joel stood up straight, hope looming in his eyes. He’d never admit that Sarah was doing well enough in class to not need a tutor, he just wanted to get you closer to him in whatever way he could.

“Of course, I’d be happy to help Sarah.” You beamed toward Joel. “Here, let’s exchange numbers so you can text me what class she needs help in, that way I know what to grab. I think I still have my old high school things here somewhere.” You looked up to the ceiling as you tried to think of where you’d stuffed your papers as he took your phone from your hand. He was careful not to actually touch you but as he got closer to you, the air started to electrify.

As soon as he put his number in your phone, you texted him so he’d have your number. You both looked back up at each other in the same second, the air getting heavier. You quickly looked back to your dad as you slid your phone into your purse.

“Alright old folks, I really have to get going. I’m already going to be twenty minutes late.”

 Your dad reached over and placed a kiss on your cheek as you waved goodbye to Joel.

“I’ll shoot ya a text tomorrow, Joel!” You called over your shoulder as you headed out the door.

Joel would never admit it but he waited all night for a text. Every time his phone illuminated; he was grabbing it. It was crazy to him to think that one of his best friend’s daughter had him like this, 20 years younger than him no less. It was pretty clear to Joel that you were going to be the death of him, regardless of what the future held.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun shone down on your legs causing your body to become incredibly warm as you held a novel close to your face. Your sunglasses had become more of a statement piece then actually protecting your eyes from the sun. The birds were chirping and it was getting to an incredibly intense part in your book.

You were so entranced in the novel that you didn’t hear the loud truck pull up on the curb down the street. You didn’t even notice the slight breeze as your dress lifted slightly on your thigh, showing a little more skin. The one thing that you definitely didn’t hear was Joel walking up the porch steps, because if you had noticed you wouldn’t be talking to the characters in your book, out loud.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You sighed out as you dramatically dropped your book on the porch floor next to the swing. The dramatic ending of the book caught you completely off guard, but what was standing in front of you was equally just as off putting, if not more. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him.

“Joel. Hi.” You barely got the two words out as you took him in.

 He was wearing another tight t-shirt and signature thigh hugging jeans. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him but his shirt was covered in dirt. His jeans were also speckled with dirt spots. Your mouth dried up as you looked up at him. You sat up immediately and smoothed your dress down.

 “My dad isn’t here, he just left to meet someone about a job site.” You nervously stepped a bit closer to him, wondering why he was here. Maybe your delusional thoughts about him weren’t as crazy as you’d thought. Maybe he had been flirting with you all those times. Maybe those glances were a little too long, and maybe, just maybe, your revealing dresses did have the effect on him you’d thought they did. But then Joel spoke, sparking disappointment.

“’M aware. He sent me here to grab some tools from your basement. Would you mind lettin’ me in, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks stained a bright red as you nodded, brushing past him to open the front door. You stepped into the foyer and stepped aside as he walked past you. His arm brushed yours as he turned to shut the front door. The electric wave that the brush sent through your skin was intoxicating, and it was over as soon as it started. You were really starting to think you needed to get a grip. You shook it off and turned around, calling over your shoulder to Joel.

“Grab whatever you need, I’m just going to grab a glass of water.”

 You heard footsteps reach the basement door and the door close behind you.  

It was about 15 minutes later as the basement door shut behind him causing you to jump a little as he headed towards the kitchen.

You’d spent the last 15 minutes waiting for him and trying to cool down with a glass of water and redirect your thoughts to anywhere but Joel. You were trying to think of anything but how incredibly delusional it seemed you had been. You still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t crazy and it wasn’t just you with all of these feelings.

Joel walked into the kitchen, setting the box of tools down on the counter as he walked over to the cabinet with the cups.

“Do ya mind, darlin’? His eyebrows rose as he looked down at you. You nodded and reached to grab the glass for him when you both reached the knob at the same time. The glance you both shared just then was enough to get your blood boiling.

“Here, let me get it.” You said, blushing once more as you filled the cup with ice and water.

The room was silent and still as you turned around to set the glass on the counter near him.

He took a drink, his eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you were hot again and shifting in your stance and clenching your thighs.

“Hows the apartment search comin’ along? Your dad said you think you found, ‘the one’?” He spoke as he set the glass down, never taking his eyes off yours.

You nodded as you decided to be bold and took a step closer to him. “Yeah, it’s actually really close to you and Sarah. It’s just a small little house but it’s perfect for me.” You smiled up at him as you struggled to breath.

“Glad you found somethin’ good. Seems like a good decision movin’ back here. Your pops really missed you.” He takes another sip as he continues to stare you down. “I mean we all did, weird without you here sunshine.”

You gulp as he starts to speak again, this time the tone shifted and the air changed. You knew that you weren’t making anything up, for once you weren’t delusional. Everything began to make sense.

“Does that mean I won’t get to see you as often?” He stepped closer to you, and you stepped closer to him. “Have to be honest here, I really enjoy seein’ you in those dresses. Your dad isn’t the only reason I continue to stick around.” He smirked as he stepped even closer.

You knew it was time to act and thank fucking god you’d been right this whole time. Age gaps be damned, the heart wants what it wants and all that bullshit right? Age is but a number? Whatever people say. You speak up, setting the tone and praying he’d keep going along with it.

“If I have my address right, I think I might actually be your neighbor.” You took another step closer, the air thick with desire. You stood on your toes so you could whisper the next words out of your mouth into his ear. “Don’t worry Joel. I’ll leave my windows open so you can see me in those dresses whenever your heart desires.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you leaned back a little to see his expression.

“You teasin me, darlin’?” His parted lips were on yours as he spoke his next sentence, his breathing hitting yours. He looked down to where your mouths touched. “’S a dangerous thing to do. I’m not like all the boys your age. I take what I want.”

“Then take it.” You said into his mouth as you looked into his eyes.

When your eyes met, he leaned down and crashed his lips to yours. You kissed him back with full force, tangling your hands in his hair. Pulling slightly as you angle your body into his.

Your mind was reeling as your mouths stayed connected. Joel tapped on your thighs, singling for you to jump. As you jumped into his arms, he spun you around and set you on the counter. As soon as your ass hit the cool counter, you moaned into Joel’s mouth. That only caused him to grip your hips harder.

“Been thinkin’ about this sweet little mouth for a while now.” He said into your mouth before crashing his lips back to yours.

You pulled away to look up at him, your breathing incredibly labored. “I could say the same, Miller.”

The lustful look in his eyes grew as you nodded towards the stairs. “Upstairs. Now.” You managed to say breathlessly.

He didn’t bother to wait to see if you had anything else to say as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, attaching his lips to yours once more. As you two made your way to the stairs, you thought you heard someone coming in through the back door. Your mouths detached as you mouthed for him to go into the bathroom directly from the top of the stairs. You clutch onto Joel as he reaches the top stair, taking two long steps before you two enter the bathroom and he is drops you onto the counter.

He quietly shuts the door as he clamps his other hand over your mouth. You both wait to hear who came through the back door, and sure enough it was your father. Joel turns and locks the bathroom door. He turns back to you, leans down and whispers in your ear.

“How quiet can you be, sweetheart?” His Texan accent thick, it was music to your ears.

“’s quiet, Joel.” You mumble against his hand. Just as he goes to remove his hand, the device in his pocket makes a loud vibrating sound. He keeps his hand around your mouth as he uses his other to fish it out of his pocket and pull it out in front of you. You both look down at the text that appears on the screen of the illuminated device.

Did you forget about the tools man?

It was a text from your dad. Joel curses silently as he sends a text back to him, the lie rolling right off his fingertips.

Sorry –forgot to grab ‘em off the counter. Got a call and headed out without thinkin’.

You hear your dad gruff in the kitchen as you both look back up to each other. Just then another text brightens the screen again.

Sure thing – just hope whoever she is, is worth the longer lunch break

You both snapped down to read the text. Your eyes looking back to his as you finish.

“Oh she’s definitely worth it.” He says quietly, looking directly at you. A blush creeps across your face as you two continue to hold eye contact.

As the seconds pass by, his eyes drop back to your mouth.

“You gonna kiss me or what, Miller? You’re growin ol-“ He cuts you off by placing his mouth on yours, the kiss heating up by the second. His fingers grip onto your hip as his phone falls onto the counter behind you. His other hand comes up to rest on your cheek, pulling you even closer. You didn’t think it was possible to this close to someone. If you two were in public kissing like this, it would definitely warrant a call to the police for public indecency. It was down right animalistic. Both of your feelings completely on display. There would be no denying after this that you had it bad for Joel Miller.

“Say old one more time, sweetheart.” He rasped as he pulled back from your mouth. “You sure don’t seem to mind how old I am with my tongue down your throat. Naughty girl. I’m sure your daddy would love to know what I’m about to do to you in his house.”

“And what exactly are you going to do, Joel?” You wink as your head is being tilted back by his hand in your hair. He angles it back further as he goes in to attach his lips to your throat.

“I’m gonna bend you over this counter top, and make you watch as I show ya what you’ve been missin'.’” His lips ghost over your neck as his southern accent thickens, the drawl really coming out. “I don’t think the word ‘old’ will ever come out of your mouth when you talk about me after I’m done with you.”

You moaned quietly as he began to pepper kisses down your throat. His hand moved from your hip to the other side of your face, the other hand falling to your neck. He continued his assault of kisses, moving lower and lower with each peck. He softly moved each of your straps of your dress down off your shoulders as he started to kiss his way back up to your throat. He stopped once more, his landing right in of your ear.

“You think you can handle that, sweet girl? Can you keep up?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath lingering on your ear.

You pulled him forward a bit as you whispered into his ear, “I think we should stop talking and get to it, Miller.”

The second the words left your mouth; his mouth was on yours again. You slid your hands down his t-shirt clad chest and stopped as soon as your fingers reached his belt. As you two continued your assault on each other’s mouths, you managed to work his belt through the loop, yanking it away from the button on his jeans.

You heard the door slam below you downstairs, singling your father was still home. You chose to ignore that thought and started to pull at Joels pants.

“Woah there sweetheart,” He said into your mouth as he removed his hands from your face to take your palms into his. “You’re insane if you think I’m not going to have a taste of that sweet little cunt first.”

You made eye contact as he winked and went back to kissing down your throat, stopping just above your breasts before pulling one out of the top of your sundress, slightly moving it to the side.

“Been teasin’ me with these for a while now.” He looked down at your rounded peak before placing his mouth directly onto it.

He licked and sucked, twirling his tongue around the peak. He removed his other hand from yours, placing it onto your hip, grabbing it tightly. He slammed it back into the cabinet, pushing himself completely onto you. There was no room between the two of you now. Joel’s mouth was on your breast, the other gripping your hip. One of your hands was tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck, trying to push him further into you. Even if that was even possible. 

Without warning he removed his mouth from your chest, a small popping sound filling the air, the cold air of the bathroom hitting your wet breast.

He moved his hand from the counter top and ran it up your now exposed slit, stopping to rub circles onto your clit.  You gasped as his calloused thumb rubbed over your most sensitive spot, tugging on his hair even more.

“Such a dirty girl, completely bare underneath that little sundress of yours.” Without warning, he pushed his middle finger into your heat, completely sheathing it inside of you. “Does this mean every time I’ve seen you in those little dresses, you’ve been like this? You’ve just been waiting for me, an old man to just lift up your skirt and fuck you silly, haven’t you sweetheart?”

“Always. Been thinkin’ about this for a while, Joel. Feels right.” You whispered as he shut his eyes and moaned before he pushed a second finger into you. He angled them, hitting just the right spot as he began to lower himself down onto his knees.

Suddenly, without warning he pulled his fingers from you and attached his mouth directly to your pussy. You stifled a groan as you brought your fist that was gripping the counter top to your mouth. You bit down on your flesh as you struggled to keep quiet as Joel licked up and down your slit, stopping at your clit to suck on it lightly before placing his fingers back inside of you, one at a time.

He sucked your sensitive bud while positioning his fingers in and out of you. The wetness that coated his fingers began to drip down his hands slightly, brushing up against your thighs.

His attack on your pussy lasted for several more minutes before he began to moan into you. “Such a sweet, needy little cunt.”

“Joel please –“ You moaned out as his hand moved from your hip to your mouth. It clamped over it, earning a groan from Joel.

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl. Can’t let your daddy know I’m in his bathroom completely ruining his daughter, can we? What would he say? If he knew that I was tongue deep in his sweet girl’s pussy?”

With the whisper of those words, he was back to his mouth on your slit and his thumb on your clit. As his tongue dove in and out of you, it became impossible to hold back what you knew what was coming. You shut your eyes, looking away from the sweet sight of Joel in between your thighs and groaned as you begun to see stars. The buildup coming was coming fast and just as fast as it was built up, it was torn down as Joel removed himself from where he had been positioned, and stood up. He made eye contact with you as he shoved those fingers that had been inside you, into your mouth. The taste of his saliva and you exploded on your tongue. You groaned onto his fingers as he watched.

His eyebrows furrowed together and he let out a quiet, “fuck,” as he took in your whole form. Your sundress was bunched up around your hips while your hair dangled behind you, completely tangled from having it wrapped around his fist. He grabbed your hair again, and tilted your head back to look you in the eyes.

His words seemed to catch in his throat as he closed his mouth and flipped you over with one fluid motion, your hair still wrapped around his hand. He leaned you back, placing your back to his front. You looked up in the mirror to meet his gaze, the bite of the counter top glazing your skin. The contrast of the cool stone against your hot skin added another element to everything your body was feeling.

Joel hiked your dress up with his free hand as he kept his gaze trained on you in the mirror. He pulled his jeans down, bunching your dress up in his fist.

You watched as he maneuvered his jeans, then his boxers down, pulling out his incredibly thick length. You two continued to have a stare down in the mirror as he reached around putting his hand in front of your mouth.

“Spit.” You spat into his hand as your eyes burned into his. “Good girl.”

That was all Joel said before placing his now slick hand on his length. You watched as he pumped himself a few times before positioning himself at your entrance. He swiped his length up and down your slit, bumping your clit each time. It made your grip on the counter top intensify, Your knuckles were beyond white, your hands were going numb.

“Ready for me to completely ruin you, doll? And all with your daddy downstairs?” He leaned forward, barely whispering. His southern accent incredibly thick, which only added to the slick between your thighs.

You couldn’t even speak let alone form a coherent sentence right now, so you settled for a nod.

With that, Joel pushed inside of you, letting out a low groan as he sank himself deep inside. You had never been with someone this thick before and it was a slight adjustment. He didn’t leave too much time for you to get used to it as he began to slip in and out of you, picking up the pace.

Joel grabbed one of your legs and held it in his hand, moving it off to the side so he could slide even deeper into you. With one of his hands in your hair, the other holding your leg up, you couldn’t keep the moans from falling from your lips.

Joel tilted your head back and leaned forward placing his lips on the base of your neck, leaving light kisses. He never took his eyes off of yours, as you two stared at each other in the mirror. He continued to fuck you into the counter. He moved a hand to your hips and laid his head on your shoulder as he continued to pump in and out of you.

Your breasts were threating to jump out of your dress so you moved a hand, releasing your grip on the stone counter top and pulled the top of your dress down. Joel moaned when he looked up, catching the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down, meeting the timing of his thrusts.

You knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer by the way his pace had begun to get sloppy. You weren’t either. He was hitting all the right spots, angling himself deep inside of you. He released his grip on your hip and placed his thumb over your clit once more, attending to the sensitive flesh.

That’s when everything seemed to go dark for you, you began to pant and tried to stifle your moans as you felt your release building.

Then it hit you all at once, Joel released his hand from your hair, bringing it up to your mouth to keep it shut as he began to fuck you harder and faster.

“Gotta fill you up sweet thing. Want to have you drippin’ with me so when you walk downstairs you’re reminded of what a filthy little slut you are for daddy’s best friend.” You groaned into his hand as you came, seeing stars.

You rode out your high as Joel hit his, the feeling of you clenching on him sending him over the edge. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides. He stayed inside of you for a moment as you both collapsed onto the counter top, taking a second to catch your breaths.

“Holy shit.” Was all you could manage to say as Joel pulled away, resituating himself. He pulled up his jeans and boxers while you watched the entire time.

He leaned forward and used his index finger to push what was leaking of him back inside of you, his eyebrows furrowing the whole time.

“Can’t believe I waited so long for this. Would’ve had this sweet cunt for every meal if I knew how good she’d be.” He whistled as he stuck his dirtied finger into your mouth. You sucked the remnants of you and him off the digit. Your eyes never leave his through the mirror the whole time.

“Better wash your hands now Joel, I think you got a little dirty.” You winked up at him as he helped you stand up and situate yourself. He rolled his eyes as your words sunk in, and he gave you a smack on the ass.

“If I’m the dirty one after that doll, you’re down right filthy.” He whistled as you moved over so he could slide past you.

You both took turns scrubbing your hands, removing the cum and slick from both of your fingertips. After he shut the water off, and dried his hands, he turned to face you.

“Think we might have to do that again sometime, Miller.” You winked and turned around to leave, grabbing the handle first. That’s when you both heard the back door shut below you, indicating that your dad had just left. You both took that as your cue to leave and you both spilled out into the hallway above the steps. The stench of sex leaking from the bathroom.

You both walked down the steps, and reaching the front door at the same time. As you went to open it for Joel, he shut it.

“I’ll see you tonight, right?” He lifted your chin so you could meet his gaze.

You had totally forgot about going to his place to help tutor his daughter, Sarah. You both knew now that once you’d gotten a taste of each other it wasn’t going to be enough. You weren’t sure if it ever would. You were certain you weren’t going to miss that tutoring session for the world.

“Of course, I will be there tonight. I, personally, can’t wait.” You smiled up at him. He seemed to like your answer as he began to open the door, stepping outside slightly. He nodded as he pulled you into his side and kissed your forehead. As you leaned away, he pulled you into him and whispered in your ear before the door shut.

“Can’t wait, sweet girl. Maybe we can have a study session of our own once you two are done.”

And with that, he was out the door and gone. You were left to wonder what the fuck just happened.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller

[badomensbaby]

above the law. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: luke's so sick of his assistant, you, talking all the damn time. he finally does something about it.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, verbal degradation, rough bj, slightly dubious consent, office sex, cum-swallowing, cursing.

word count: 4,173

a/n: i wrote this originally back in early 2023 as an au using one of my wattpad original characters. through some editing, i've decided to change the pov and post it here! i hope you enjoy x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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"Hemmings, get your head out of your ass for once and finish this goddamn deal."

The curly headed blonde's eyes snap away from the project he's currently in the middle of, various folders scattered amongst his desk, drowning him in useless paperwork all for a stupid fucking merger.

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" Luke grumbles under his breath, snapping the Bolton file shut and tossing his overly expensive fountain pen on top of the mess he's created. Ashton Irwin, one of three named partners, stands with his arms crossed in the doorway of Luke's corner office, an unamused expression on his face.

"I think you're trying to do all this shit on your own instead of utilizing your associate, that's what I think," the honey blonde scoffs, thick brow raising, "Where's Y/N anyway? You send her across town for your stupid coffee again?"

"No," Luke's quick to defend, though it is the easiest way to get you out of his eyesight for a little while and focus, "I've got her on the Mansfield settlement."

"The Mansfield- that's Mike's case, idiot," Ashton shakes his head, "What's the deal, Luke? You really hate Y/N that much?"

A sigh of exhaustion leaves Luke's lips, head cocking back as he stares at the ceiling. "She's just chatty," he says vaguely, "Can't get a single fuckin' thing done 'cause she won't shut up."

"She's your associate, Luke, stop pawning her off on Mike or he'll swipe her out from under you."

"Good," he forces out a low chuckle, meeting the man's eyes, "He can have her."

"Don't say things you don't mean, you know she's one of the best associates we've got." Luke's eyes roll at his boss' words, sitting up straighter in his desk chair.

"Whatever," he mumbles softly, not willing to admit your brain is undeniably better than half the fucking people he's met. "Can I get back to work now?"

A defeated sigh escapes Ash's lips, "If I don't see Y/N in here working with you I'll make sure to send Calum your way."

"Calum?" the curly haired boy's nose wrinkles, shaking his head, "That's like giving me a fucking puppy, Ash, literally useless."

"Your call." he responds, a little smirk on his lips before pulling Luke's office door shut behind him. A groan leaves Luke's throat at this, the urge to rip every last blonde ringlet from his head at the idea of spending the remaining afternoon going over these stupid files with you.

Regardless of the fact that you’re distracting, which he'll never admit aloud, he shoots you a vague text requiring your presence in his office, no more than twenty minutes from now.

And of course, your dainty little wrist began knocking on the dark wooden door of his office precisely twenty-three minutes after he'd sent the text, only fueling his annoyance. A curt "come in" leaves his lips but his eyes remain on the file, instead of the sinful black dress on your curvy frame.

Tasteful and tightly fit, your fingers instinctively tug at the material resting on your mid thigh, a worrisome look on your features. For as long as you can recall, Luke's always teased you about your wardrobe, especially the bright colors and silken skirts.

"You're late," his tone is flat, hand scribbling away at the paperwork he's nearly memorized already, "I swear to god if you say some bullshit about the elevator again-"

Luke's words die in his throat as he lifts his head, eyes landing on the tight fabric on your frame, hugging every fucking dip and curve of your body. You meet eyes, yours widening, worried you’re going to be lectured again. Was your dress too plain, too boring?

The sweetheart neckline alone almost makes Luke lick his lips, stifling the urge to say something far, far more inappropriate to his associate. "Doesn't matter," the blonde rushes out, "We're gonna be here all night. Preorder from Machi's while you're at it."

"Okay," is all you say, walking closer to his desk, the click of your heels echoing Luke's ears as you bend over, just slightly, grabbing his desk phone and beginning to dial.

After nearly four hours and neither had made a miraculous discovery, a whine of agony leaves your throat, sat across the moderately sized office, snapping yet another useless file folder shut. "Luke,"

"What?" he rasps, tearing his eyes away from the file, meeting your eyes, his own filled with annoyance. "Don't tell me you've got nothing, Y/N."

"There's honestly no reason why Bolton should be merging with Daniels," you sigh out, running a hand through your hair, "Seriously, it's like Pampers merging with Microsoft, they have no interest in one another."

"Christ," Luke mutters under his breath, jaw tensing as you continue to ramble useless information, "Do you ever shut up?"

Mid-sentence, your lips snap shut, a warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Sorry," you respond softly, and Luke almost feels bad for being so curt, but god you never close your fucking mouth. "Did you find anything?"

A huff of air leaves Luke's nose, "Maybe," he says, twirling his fountain pen between his fingers, leg bouncing aimlessly as he scans over the documents for the umpteenth time. "But you keep fucking talking and it's throwing me off."

"Sorry."

"Damnit, Y/N," his curls bounce slightly as he shakes his head, rifling a hand through them, glancing over at your position on the small sofa, dress slightly ridden up your smooth thighs. "Come here, let me show you something."

Hesitantly, you toss the file on your lap onto the cushion, standing and making your way over to Luke's desk, oblivious to the fitted material of your dress riding a bit higher than intended. Luke swallows thickly, attempting to keep focus on the file in his hand. As you lean over slightly to see what Luke's underlined, his eyelids fall shut, the smell of your perfume annihilating his senses.

"But that means-" you cut yourself off, lower lip tucked between your teeth, palms flat on the corner of Luke's desk, "This isn't about combining their companies, is it?"

"No," Luke finally says after a moment, slowly blinking his eyes open, "But we need to convince the judge it is."

"That's impossible, Luke, it's clear they're only doing this for-"

"I know, just figure it out, Y/N."

"That'll take all night," you whine softly, "I'm not sleeping in the office two nights in a row." Luke's teeth grit together at your response, frustrated and fed up with your goddamn attitude.

"If you can't do it I'll find someone who can," he cranes his neck to meet your eyes, narrowed and darkened, "You wanna whine about a few more hours be my guest, but you're not doing it here."

"But-"

"Jesus fucking-" he abandons his pen with a thud, rubbing the palms of his hands against his tired eyes, "I seriously have never met someone so goddamn annoying. All you fucking do is whine and complain and talk my fucking ear off," Luke rambles lowly, "You wanted to be an associate, so be a goddamn associate and shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

You stand upright, embarrassment washing over your features, attempting to remain composed as tears threaten your eyes. It's not a secret that Luke's always harbored some sort of annoyance toward you, but he's never spoken to you in such a vile manner before. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, fists balled at your sides. How dare he say those things to you?

"You're an asshole," you say, voice wavering slightly, "You're always a dick to everyone. Nobody's ever good enough for you. I wanted to be an associate to learn and do what I love, not be talked to like a child."

"The fuck did you say to me?" Luke counters with a raised brow, ringed fingers slowly rolling up the sleeves of his fitted black dress shirt. "I think you forget who you work for. Not Ashton, not Michael, definitely not Jessica. You work for me, Y/N, and if you want to keep your fucking job I think you owe me a goddamn apology."

Luke's eyes flicker between yours and the hemline of your little black dress, the skin of your thighs soft and tempting as he widens the distance between his legs, splayed open. "Come here," he says, a bit quieter this time, though he's fucking seething internally, he can't deny how fucking hot it is talking down to the you. Hesitantly, you step closer, stomach swirling with uneasiness.

"You don't wanna go through those files? Fine," Luke forces out a low chuckle, "But I've got work to do and I'm not gonna let you get in the way of that. So what you're gonna do is sit right here," he taps on his clothed thigh, "Shut your fucking mouth and make yourself cum on my thigh."

"What-"

"You heard me."

"Luke, I-"

"It wasn't a question, Y/N. And so help me god if you complain or make a fucking sound you're more than welcome to leave."

For the first time, you’re speechless. Standing so close to the man you swear hates you with every fiber of his being, asking you to make yourself cum on his thigh, you can't help the clench of your own thighs at the thought. Sure, you’ve had those kinds of thoughts about the tall blonde, but never did you imagine his request.

"So? What'll it be?" Luke asks impatiently, a thick brow raised as he grabs his pen, clicking it profusely, leaning back in his chair.

Wordlessly, and swallowing your pride, you step closer, slowly lifting your leg over the blonde's thigh, his foot firmly planted on the small rug beneath him. His eyes almost widen, as if he didn't expect you to comply, and he stifles a grunt when your warm center meets the fabric of his slacks. He can feel how fucking wet you are through the thin material of your underwear, your dress sliding a bit further up your thighs, almost exposing yourself to him.

"Alright then," Luke clears his throat, leaning forward slightly to grab the Bolton file, relaxing in his desk chair. "Get to it."

With her heart rattling in her chest, you grasp the armrest of Luke's chair to ground yourself, filled to the brim with shame. Are you really going to do this? You can still back out, you don't need to show Luke how pathetic you are, fucking leaking on his slacks just from his crude words. You don't even register the rock of your hips against his thigh until a soft moan slips from your lips, catching Luke's attention, his eyes briefly flickering to you.

And fuck is it hot. Your eyes slowly flutter shut as your hips roll in slow motions, the friction from the fabric forgotten, sensitive clit throbbing from your movements. Luke's jaw tenses, tearing his eyes away from the tempting sight, his cock twitching in his slacks.

Shame and embarrassment are out the window as you near your first orgasm, the explicit images of things you’ve only dreamt of unfolding behind your eyelids. You can only fucking imagine how Luke's fingers would feel inside you, the things he'd say as he's bottoming out inside of your tight heat. And it's suddenly overwhelming as you clench pathetically, throbbing against his thigh and your own legs shaking as you finish. "Fuck-"

Luke's eyes widen, biting hard at the inside of his cheek to keep his composure, the sound of you falling apart on his thigh sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. He wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and fuck the daylights out of you until you’re drooling and forgetting your own goddamn name.

Reality comes crashing down as your orgasm passes, ragged breaths leaving your parted lips. Did you really just make yourself cum on your boss' thigh? "Luke-"

"Do it again."

"What?" You ask breathlessly, straightening your back, "You- you want me to do it again?"

"What did I say about shutting that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N? If I tell you to do something, do it," he scoffs, acting as though the sight of you cumming didn't turn him on even more, "If you're pathetic enough to do it once I'm sure you'll have no problem doing it again."

Your sensitive clit throbs helplessly as you swallow, white-knuckling the armrest and rocking your hips yet again. The swollen nub continuously brushing Luke's slacks has you choking down whimpers and whines, fearful of Luke's reaction to you making noise. Though, the idea of what he'll do if you don't comply lingers in your hazy mind.

The intermittent bounce of Luke's leg isn't doing you any favors either, little uh uh's leaving your parted lips.

You’re fucking drenched, the thin fabric of your lace underwear doing nothing to keep your arousal from coating Luke's thigh as you roll and rock your hips a bit quicker, your second orgasm creeping up on you, your head tossing back when a low, drawn-out whine leaves your lips, cumming for the second time like a pathetic whore.

And Luke fucking loves every goddamn second of it.

Attempting to calm yourself down from your release, thighs still trembling, Luke tosses the file onto his desk. He hadn't read a damn word of it anyway, not when you’re grinding your pretty little cunt against his thigh like a slut.

Suddenly embarrassed, your cheeks flush a deep crimson shade as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve soaked the fabric of Luke's slacks with your release, your own goddamn boss. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't say another word," he firmly cuts you off, "Get on your fucking knees."

"Why-"

"I'm honestly so fucking tired of listening to you, Y/N," Luke's tone lowers, a scoff leaving his lips, watching as you scramble to the floor. "Gonna shut you up, make good use of that stupid fucking mouth of yours."

Catching sight of the wet patch on his slacks, he nearly groans, ringed fingers fumbling with his belt buckle in record time, desperate for the release of his achingly hard cock. You seem to catch on, widened doey eyes flickering up to Luke's, your hands neatly folded in your lap. Luke pulls his slacks down just enough to allow his length to be exposed, not wanting to show an ounce of vulnerability to you. You don't deserve a sweet intimate moment, you deserve to be fucking ruined.

"Open your mouth," he grunts, hissing as he grasps the base of his cock, your lips parting slowly, the blonde stepping forward and guiding the tip past your lips. "Wanna see you choke on my cock."

He doesn't give you a moment to register his words before he's thrusting fully into your mouth, tip poking the back of your throat and a choking sound emitting from your lips. You scramble to grasp at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady. The sight of your sparkly lipgloss coating his cock is so fucking intoxicating and he wonders why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Using his hands to grasp your hair quite roughly, he continues to fuck into your mouth at a degrading pace, not allowing you to adjust to the forceful movements. Choking and gagging sounds fill the otherwise quiet room, spit dribbling from your lips. "Yeah, you like choking on my cock, Y/N? So much better than hearing you fuckin' talk."

Your nails dig into the fabric of his pants, a grunt leaving Luke's lips as his hips continue thrusting his cock into your mouth. You can barely take all of him, the base nearly untouched. "All you're fuckin' good for, hm?"

And suddenly he's removing himself from your mouth, chest heaving from how fucking wrecked you already look, the small tears pooling your waterline smudging the mascara you'd put on. "As much as I wanna watch you swallow for me," he heaves out, "I wanna feel that pretty fuckin' pussy of yours."

A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, clenching around nothing as you remain on your knees before him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips and the reddened, aching tip of Luke's cock. "You want me inside you?" he asks.

You have no words, honestly, the burn left behind in your throat from Luke's forceful thrusts halts you from speaking. Instead, you nod. "No, I want to hear you fuckin' say it, Y/N. I'm not an asshole."

"Yes," you weakly respond, "I want you."

"Good. Take that fuckin' dress off while you're at it."

Your shaky and frail fingers grasp the hemline of your dress hesitantly, eyes flickering between his leaking cock and his firm gaze, pulling the fitted material over your head and tossing it aside. Now sat in nothing but a pair of soaked, white lace panties and your heels, Luke's eyes fall on your bare breasts. "So fuckin' pretty."

"Luke-" you whimper quietly.

"Shut up," his hands reach beneath your arms, pulling you to your feet. Luke reaches around you, large hand swiping the array of documents off of his desk, sending them to the floor with a thud. You release a soft gasp when your bare backside meets the cool wooden desk, "Can't say I've never thought about this."

Luke's hands fall to your hips, gripping the skin roughly, and guiding you down until your back is flush with the desk, legs spread pathetically, displaying your clothed core to him. "God, you're so fucking soaked it's pathetic," he laughs lowly, shaking his head, and trailing a finger along the dampened material, coated in your previous orgasms and current arousal. He sends a soft smack with the back of his hand to your swollen clit, causing a whimper to leave your lips. "You'll let me have you any way I want, huh?"

"Luke-"

"Don't talk, I already know the answer," he raises your legs so your heels are resting on the edge of the desk, fingers ghosting the inside of your thighs teasingly, "Because here you are, spread out on my fucking desk like the whore you are."

"Please-"

"God, you just can't listen, huh?" his hands retreat from your skin, fumbling with his necktie, folding it into a neat little square. "I said I don't wanna hear you, Y/N." leaning over you, the tip of his cock pressing against your clothed core, he forces the folded tie between your lips, gagging you. "There, much better."

Luke works quickly to pull the pathetic excuse for underwear down your legs, tossing them alongside your dress on the floor. His cock twitches at the sight of you, fucking glistening and leaking just for him. He trails two fingers up your wetness, slicking his cock with your arousal, and prodding the tip against you. "Look at me," he says, hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, your own widening, "Wanna watch you take my fucking cock."

You look so fucking pretty all gagged up for him. Running his tongue along his lower lip, he roughly juts his hips forward, instantly bottoming out and a muffled scream leaves your lips at the stretch. The tears that brimmed your eyes previously begin to fall, feeling so full, "Fuck," he hums lowly.

He rocks his hips a few times, watching as your eyes practically roll back into your head. And god does that make him so fucking proud, staring at you as drool slowly dribbles from yourr lips. He halts, roughly tugging the tie from your mouth, fingers gathering the spit and shoving it between your lips. "Don't be messy," he tuts, before placing the tie back, "Already fuckin' droolin' like a whore and I'm barely getting started."

Luke retracts his cock, hands grasping at your hips and flipping your body, the sound of your stomach colliding with the wooden desk echoing through the room. "I don't wanna look at you," he says, palming the skin of your backside before smacking the smooth flesh. He realigns himself with your entrance, one hand splayed on your bare back to hold you in place.

Roughly thrusting inside once again, the moans and muffled choked sobs barely reach Luke's ears, too fucking entranced by the feeling of your tight little cunt taking him so well. "This," he rocks his hips forcefully, "Is fuckin' mine. Anytime I goddamn want it, you're gonna give it to me."

You scramble to grab the opposite edge of Luke's desk, white knuckling it as he forcefully pounds into you, so fucking deep and quick you can barely breathe. "Such a tight fuckin' cunt," he groans, fingernails scraping along your back, "Taking my cock like a good fuckin' slut."

Instinctively you clench around him, eliciting a deep borderline growl from Luke's throat, hand previously raking down your back finding your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers and yanking you backwards until you’re halfway to his chest. You rest your palms flat on the desk, eyes pinched shut in pleasure while he continues fucking into you at an unruly pace.

"Clench again for me," he moans out, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten, his orgasm slowly beginning to build. You comply, your thighs trembling, clenching as hard as you can. "Fuckin' god," Luke tosses his head back, eyelids fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You choke out another moan around the tie in your mouth, unable to warn the blonde of your third orgasm that's quickly approaching as he continuously pokes the perfect spot so fucking deep inside you’re nearly a drooling mess. The hand not entangled in your hair grips one of your breasts roughly, sending you over the edge in a series of muffled cries. Tears stream down your cheeks, cunt tightening around Luke yet again, the blonde hissing as he feels your release coat his cock, the slick sound of his thrusts growing louder.

"Fuckin' milkin' my cock like a whore," he spits out, grip tightening on your hair as he pulls you closer, thrusting into you impossibly harder. You can't fucking think, you’re a dizzy mess and can hardly form a thought. You can't even feel the drool pooling from the edges of your lips. "Gonna fill up that sweet little cunt of yours and make you mine."

Luke pulls you flush to his chest, your head lolling against his shoulder. Though he isn't one for kissing, he doesn't hesitate to graze his teeth against your exposed neck, sinking them into the supple flesh as his hips begin to stutter, groaning against your neck as he releases inside. You wince at the rough bite on your neck but you’re too spent to care, leaning fully against him as he rocks through his orgasm.

You’re in a daze when he pulls out of you, nearly falling against the desk, the blonde quickly reaching for you to keep you upright. Though he's smug and feeling overly satisfied for ruining you, a swirl in his stomach tells him he needs to make sure you’re alright. He pulls the tie from your mouth, not commenting on the drool spilled from your lips. "Y'okay?"

You can't fucking speak.

Luke's brows furrow with worry, hand delicately grasping your jaw and searching your hazy eyes. Pupils blown out just like his, fresh tears lingering on your cheeks. "Oh, baby," the pet name falls from his lips effortlessly, "C'mon."

Tucking his softening cock into his pants and guiding you away from his desk and towards the couch, he plucks your heels from your feet. Though he'd never in a million years consider aftercare, he's stripping his button down from his broadened frame and slipping your arms inside, buttoning it to cover your exposed body. "Luke," you toss your head back onto the plush couch.

"Hm?" he hums softly.

"I need to- need to clean up," you rasp quietly, a hint of a blush on your cheeks, head reeling from the soreness between your thighs.

"That's what m'here for," he coos sweetly, though the smirk of his lips has you swallowing thickly. His ringed hands trail along your warm and flushed skin, parting your trembling thighs, the sight of his release slowly dribbling out of your sweet cunt nearly has his cock stiffening in his slacks again. "Mm, such a pretty wrecked little pussy."

A gasp leaves your lips as he leans forward, nose brushing your lower stomach, tongue gathering his cum from your sensitive folds. Lapping up every fucking drop, Luke straightens himself out, reaching a hand towards your swollen lips and parting them with his thumb. You’re beyond confused as he tightly grips your jaw, before spitting the contents into your own mouth. Swiping any remnants from his own lips, he narrows his eyes. "Fuckin' swallow."

Clasping your pretty lips shut, you comply, feeling a stir in your stomach when your eyes meet, and swallow.

"My good fuckin' girl."

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos x reader #smut

[jaegersdevil]

like real people [megumi fushiguro]

megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: love can still find you even in your darkest hour. w/c: 1.7k a/n: megumi and reader are in their early/mid-twenties. this is a little different from anything else i’ve written in terms of the language, but i think i'm happy with it. i'm a bit scared to post this. i hope it makes sense, and if it doesn't, tell me, please :) warnings: angst, idiots in love, both parties emotionally hurt by past relationships, insinuations of past relationship abuse (megumi), ooc megumi, it's 4am idk please let me know.

“Is it so wrong to wish to love and be loved in return?” 

No words came before you. To say you weren’t expecting this conversation would be a lie — it was a long time coming. After the party, after you had blatantly brushed him off in front of his friends, Megumi couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for why you did what you did. After months of dancing around each other, why couldn’t you commit to what you wanted when it was so very clear, Megumi?

“Megumi,” You weren’t oblivious to his lovelorn stare or his fingers fidgeting.

“Please,” He begged, stepping closer to you, his hands clasped before him. 

You screwed your eyes shut at his vulnerable state. Was it easier to remain ignorant of your apparent and lengthy tension? Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty about the impulse to leave.

But, standing before a man who had a hard time sharing his emotions and choosing to ignore them rather than help? You wouldn't do such a thing.

“It’s not wrong, per se, Megs,” You started, eyes trained on the hardwood floor, never meeting his pleading ones. “Maybe naive.” 

A sharp intake caused a shiver down your spine. “Naive?” 

You chewed heavily on your bottom lip and couldn't keep your tears at bay. "I just learned you planned to get engaged when we met, Megumi. What was I meant to do? I didn't want your friends to think I was exploiting your emotions. How I never knew until now..."  

Megumi sighed and looked away, shaking his head. He wanted to say that meeting you saved him. How you dug him out of the ground and breathed life into his delicate lungs brought him back to life. If you had never met, he would still be six feet in the dirt, a ghost of who he once was. Do people love others who have been damaged so severely that the idea of love itself is considered terrifying and not comforting in the slightest? 

"You know they wouldn't think that of you. And I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed and afraid. I know that isn't a good enough excuse for you because you've been in my life for so long, but it was better to keep it quiet. I don't know!"

He tried to keep his voice steady, always one to hold back his true feelings until he was behind closed doors — and even then, he would force them back inside.

But, as he looked at you, Megumi believed the possibility of admitting he loved you was far closer than anticipated. However, the fear you wouldn’t reciprocate burned in his bones so profoundly he feared they would turn to ash inside him. All he wanted was to love and be loved without the devastating consequences he had suffered before — if love without pain existed. 

Nonetheless, Megumi couldn't seem to shake the feeling of emptiness that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Will we ever be normal? Will we ever kiss like real people do? Will I ever get to hold you without the looming fear that you’ll just pack up and leave?” He thought out loud.

A flight risk. You gave him a bitter smile and nodded.

“That’s all I am to you? Someone that you’re scared to be with because I’ve never ‘stuck around’ for anyone else? Do you ever wonder why I left them?” You raised your eyebrows in question. When Megumi didn’t answer, you finished. “Because they were assholes who just wanted someone to use, and I was at their disposal.”

Megumi grimaced at your choice of words but understood. It had taken him almost a year, but he finally understood your greatest anxieties. “I would never use you.” 

You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I know that, but I'm still paranoid. Leave before you get left, isn’t that what they say?” 

The room was silent for a moment while you both collected yourselves. In contemplation, Megumi ran his hands over his dark hair, and you picked at your nails. 

“I’m sorry,” Megumi mumbled, wiping at his cheeks where stray tears had left salty trails. “I’m sorry for offending you. I didn’t mean it like that. My anxiety is not on you at all; it’s not your fault, and I’ll apologise for the rest of my life if that will make up for my sheer ignorance.” 

You shrugged half-heartedly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. It’s not true. Love is humanity’s greatest desire, and you are entirely valid for wanting such things, especially after your ex..." You narrowed your eyes at him softly.

Unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. His past relationship was calamitous, and her name was never spoken amongst his friends again after they found out what had happened. She was referred to as ‘she who must not be named’ in his friend group, but that was the only joke. Nothing she did to Megumi was laughable. 

The kitchen light was flickering, you noticed. You'd have to change the bulb.

“I bet you regret meeting me,” He smiled fleetingly. You looked at him quizzically. “Anyone else wouldn’t be insulting you in your kitchen.” 

“I'll never regret meeting you, Megumi,” You took his hand in yours. “And you didn’t insult me. Yes, it hurts, but it’s a harsh truth I have to swallow. I have to understand that not everyone is out to get me. It'll take some time, but I wish to get there someday.”  

“And I'll help you believe that, okay? I won't leave you. Not now, not ever, because you are my favourite person, darling. And should I ever leave you, let me die the most painful death because you deserve a great deal of love — more than I could ever give you, but I will try my best, alright?” 

You nodded, reeling with the weight of his words. He spoke with such comprehension it had you reeling — had he ever confessed his feelings for someone like this before? So thought out and with a pleading look in his eye that made your chest hurt?

Instead of wondering about him, you pulled Megumi closer by his jacket collar, which you realised he never took off when he got to your apartment. Pushing the jacket over his shoulders, you placed the garment on the kitchen counter. Your tear-stained cheeks were glossy under the yellowing ceiling light, and Megumi pulled you back to him, running his fingers over your face to wipe away the streams.

A switch flipped, and suddenly, it felt like the world would end if Megumi didn't tell you his deepest longings. He would lose you if he didn't express how much he had come to care for you. You couldn't take chances in a world full of Jujutsu, especially when the one you loved was tiptoeing the line of death every day.

“I don’t want to not be with you, and it was never my intention to insinuate that. I have a lot of love to give, but I’ve given it to the wrong people in the past who never acknowledged or appreciated it. But I’m ready to give it to you,” Megumi muttered. It required abundant courage to say it, but Megumi was glad he didn’t hold back once it was out — his father would be disgusted if he saw his son now.

The room's atmosphere had changed dramatically, and all hostility once felt in your stomach had dissipated. This was a time of reassuring each other that their greatest fears would not trouble them as long as they were together. 

“I adore you,” Megumi whispered, his heart beating out of his chest. “And I’m not just saying that because of our argument. I’m telling you that I never meant for us to end; I was just getting started with you when I walked through that door tonight. Never mind if you brushed me off at some stupid party.”

Your face heated with shame at the memory. “I'm sorry, I panicked.” 

Megumi nodded in understanding. “I know. And I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be on your side, always.” 

Lifting your head from his chest and resting your finger on his lips, you shook your head. “My turn.” 

Megumi’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he nodded. 

“Enough consoling me, okay? You need to know that you’re the one for me, too, so you don’t spiral again and start doubting my love for you and your own for me,” Megumi flushed. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, and no amount of scepticism would deter me from you because you’re all I want. I love you, okay? I will live and die for the moments we share because I treasure them the most out of everything I do. You are love, and I want to drown myself in you for the rest of our lives if you let me.” 

It was silent. Megumi’s heartbeat was so quick he almost couldn’t feel it. You love him. 

You ignored his blank stare and continued. “You don’t have to say it yet, but I know you do. And if it turns out you don’t love me as much as I, you, I will live on my own for the remainder of time because I know that I had the most incredible love in the universe with you, and I would be content with that. Nobody else could make me feel the way you do.” 

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and then sighed. “You mean so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t find a way to tell you yet, but I will. I know it in my soul.”

“You already have,” You hugged him tighter, and Megumi rubbed his large hands up and down your back. 

The kitchen light had stopped flickering.

“Why can’t we have a relationship like real people? Because I’m starting to think we’re living in some sort of hallucination together,” You mumbled, giggles slipping from your lips.

Megumi’s chest vibrated with low laughter, but the action rattled his bones. “We’ll figure it out. We're not like real people anyway.”

—

playlist: like real people do - hozier — this is me trying - taylor swift — labyrinth - taylor swift — snow on the beach - taylor swift (w lana del rey)

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #megumi x you #megumi angst #— ann writes!

[geeks-universe]

Kiss of Death pt. 5

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

“Good morning, Viscount,” you greeted warmly from behind a large plate of food.

The night before you’d snuck away to meet Graham, letting him give you a quick once over to make sure there were no lasting injuries. All things considered, you felt pretty good. You’d managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and now the only thing keeping you from tackling the day was the overwhelming hunger battling your stomach.

“Princess,” he answered, evenly- cautiously.

His eyes were scanning your body, and it only took you a second to realize why. He was searching for visible evidence of some forbidden escapade he had no doubt conjured.

Your absence had been noted, you knew, but you had informed Daphne you were just retiring early. Anthony hadn’t believed it.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention to the woman on your left who had just sat down a plate of warm pastries.

“Sorry for my abrupt departure last night,” you explained, your voice soft. “Liana escorted me back to your home.”

Liana, the maid in question, froze momentarily.

Her dark eyes assessed the scene, and you desperately hoped she’d connect the pieces. Liana was a highly trained assassin who had spent a lifetime learning how to read body language, the same way you had.

She was nearing her mid-twenties, and already had an impressive list of feats she’d accomplished in the Order. The Bridgertons didn’t know that, though. She played the role of your companion, a maid that had been with your family since she was a child. Technically, it wasn’t a lie outside of what her true occupation was.

But, your father was adamant she accompany you, and considering you had no maids of your own, the role was the most natural choice. Not that Liana was particularly happy about it.

“Too much dancing, I’m afraid,” Liana nodded sympathetically, and if you didn’t know her as well as you did, you might’ve actually believed her.

The dry look on your face did nothing to sell the story, but Anthony was satisfied with the answer, relieved you hadn’t left with another man.

“Did you enjoy any of the suitors?” Daphne asked politely, but the nearly imperceptible upturn of her lips spoke of something you didn’t quite understand.

“They were…” You couldn’t fight back the grimace. “Nice.”

Daphne laughed in return.

“In time I’m sure you’ll find the perfect match, as my Daphne has,” Violet said sweetly, and then began trying to extract details of how her relationship with the Duke was progressing.

You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the young woman as she practically glowed talking about the Duke. You hadn’t met Simon yet, hadn’t really had the chance, but the way she spoke of him made you appreciate him a little more. Daphne was absolutely besotted by him, and it caused a twinge of longing in your heart.

Like the Bridgertons, you were raised in a house filled with love. Granted, your parents were both assassins, as well as royalty, but the love they had for each other- and, by extension, you- was real. For a brief moment, you wondered what it might feel like to be in love with someone, to trust them with the whole of who you were, to feel safe. You wanted to shed the armor you wore around your heart, if only for a minute, to remember what it felt like.

Then, you could see your mother’s eyes as the light faded from them. You could feel your father’s agony as he held onto you, screaming at the world that had left you without a mother, the same pain burning your heart in the confines of your chest.

The deep scar just above your bellybutton flared to life, and you felt the wonder turn to ash in your mouth.

You couldn’t let yourself go through it all again.

You couldn’t love.

“I shall meet you at the park for the promenade at noon, I’m afraid I have business until then.”

You didn’t miss the confusion that flashed in Liana’s expression.

You did not, in fact, have business.

Graham had very explicitly banned you from your duties for the next week. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew better. Him and Liana were the only ones that knew you were there against your father’s wishes. He truly did think you’d gone to search for a husband.

If he’d known the truth he never would’ve let you step foot in London.

So you played the part for your father as well. Your steps were a bit heavier than normal as you walked away from the Bridgerton family, feeling the presence of Liana close behind.

“(Y/N),” she hissed against the sudden burst of wind as you opened the door.

London was as bustling as usual, and for once, you found yourself among them, rather than watching from the rooftops like some kind of hidden savior.

We work in the dark to serve the light, indeed.

“No work,” you assured her, letting yourself get lost in the crowd.

Liana, however, stayed closed by your side. She kept her gaze on you, and, when you passed a hidden alley tucked in the dark corner of a considerably quiet street, she pulled you to the side.

“What is it?”

She had been your closest confidant since you were a kid. Despite her being a number of years older than you, you’d always been the best of friends. When you were young, you trained together every single day, learning the art of your craft side by side. Now, most days you didn’t get the opportunity.

“Memories,” you offered, pushing back against the panic that quickened your heart.

You forced yourself to focus on the ground, a steady reminder that you were here, no matter how much your mind tried to drag you to the past.

“Your mother-“

Her voice was so cautious, like it’d caused her pain to utter the two words. It had, you were sure. Your mother had been a parent to her as well, and the pain of her loss cut deep.

“Don’t.” You breathed, your vision swirling as you felt the familiar darkness crawl up your spine. “Please.”

Liana released a sigh, then pressed her fingers beneath your chin. She searched your gaze, reading your expression. You didn’t know what she was looking for, nor what she would find, but after a moment she seemed satisfied with her assessment.

“Don’t let them break you.”

She was gone in a few swift movements, propelling herself onto the shoddy roof of the rundown building. Just because you were sidelined didn’t mean she was, and you knew you couldn’t be bitter over it when your entire operation depended on all of you.

So you took a brief moment to steady your breathing, deciding maybe you could embrace the role you’d play for the next week. Being an assassin had always come first, and royalty second. It’d been that way since you were just a kid, learning to defend yourself with dull blades.

Your parents hadn’t meant to let you train at a young age, even planned on delaying telling you about their extracurricular activities, but after your father had been gravely injured and had stumbled into you, they’d explained it all.

Truthfully, you were too young at the time to understand what it all meant, and, perhaps, if you were older, you might’ve chosen not to go down the route you did. After all, not everyone in the Order went on missions, some simply supported the Assassins. In recent yours, that’s what your father more or less became. He’d never been as quick or skilled as your mother, and after her death, he’d strayed from that path altogether, save the occasional need to don his Assassin robes.

You stretched, mindful of the stitches in your side, and jumped back into the fray of proper society. It was a role, you reminded yourself, one you might even have fun with if you let yourself.

It took you roaming around for a couple of hours to realize you would not, in fact, have fun with the charade. Every store you tried to enter gawked at the idea of you walking around without a chaperone. When you weren’t getting stared at for being unchaperoned, you were getting stared at hungrily by suitors hoping to get you in compromising situations.

By the time you had trudged back to the Bridgerton home to prepare for promenading in Hyde Park, you were in a sullen mood- a mood only made worse by the fact that there was still an impending conversation you owed Benedict Bridgerton.

You bathed yourself quickly, and dressed in a pastel green dress. It reminded you of the rolling hills outside your home, and the memories were enough to make you throw it on. Some days, you really did miss your home.

You knew, however, that you’d grown out of it. Your time as an Assassin, especially one as skilled as you, had taken you around the globe. The long, golden hallways and intricately painted ceilings felt foreign to you now. Perhaps the feeling of longing you felt wasn’t for your home specifically, but rather the feeling you experienced when you found home.

You puffed out a breath, deciding a walk to the park would do you good. You were getting much too sentimental this day, and it was only a matter of time before your past forced you to listen.

The walk to the park wasn’t far, and the gentle breeze of the wind reminded you of the times you’d spent high above the ground, perched just a nudge from the edge of a drop that would surely kill you. A week without being an Assassin.

A week without being you.

Daphne was the first to see you arrive, and she had a wide smile on her lips that you found yourself returning. She was a sweet girl, and you liked to think that in a different world, one where you weren’t indoctrinated into the Order at such a young age, you might’ve been more like her.

“Your highness,” she greeted sweetly, drawing the rest of her family’s attention. “It is wonderful to see you.”

Her voice was so genuine it made your heart squeeze in your chest. All of your friends were Assassins. As such, you’d all been a bit more distant, death hanging over your heads like a rain cloud, waiting for when you least expected it to strike.

“It is wonderful to see you too,” you replied in kind, and found that you did mean it.

You cleared your throat.

“Is your Duke planning on making an appearance?”

She didn’t comment on your use of the word ‘your’ but she definitely reacted to it. Pink tinged her cheeks, and she offered you a meek nod, so unlike her normally carefully spoken self.

Noted.

You tilted your head in Benedict’s direction, steadfastly ignoring the curious look Anthony was shooting you. He was connecting non-existent dots in regards to you and Benedict, but you’d let him do so, if only because he couldn’t know the truth. And, perhaps, in an effort to keep a distance between you.

“Benedict,” you called, your voice a little softer than normal. “You promised a stroll around the park?”

His momentarily confusion was shook off as he understood what you were alluding too, nodding far too enthusiastically. Whether he realized it or not, he was selling the idea that there may be something more than friendship between you. A quick glance at Anthony confirmed he believed so too, if the scowl on his face was anything to go by.

You ignored it, however, instead looping your arm through Benedict’s and leading the two of you to somewhere a little quieter. You waited until you were sufficiently outside of earshot before you began speaking, and even then, you scanned the area to make sure there were no wandering eyes or ears.

“About the other-“

“I was in a fight,” you said, watching his expression carefully.

He didn’t falter, as if that’d been one of his suspicions. He nodded slowly, cautiously.

“Okay,” he drawled, “Why?”

You sucked in a breath, pulling him towards a lovely rose bush. To anyone of the outside, it looked simply as if you’d stopped to admire them. Truthfully, you’d taken a minute to gather your thoughts.

“What I’m about to say, you cannot repeat.”

Before he could reply, you hissed out, “Ever.”

He swallowed, then paused.

“I promise.”

Your eyes hardened, one hand holding onto your forearm, atop the bracers your hidden blades were concealed in. You hadn’t been able to put the weapons down since you got to London.

“Do you think peace and freedom can coexist?”

If he was confused by your question, he didn’t show it. His answer was near immediate, and perhaps you knew what his reply would be before he even voiced it.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “I don’t see how that answers anything, though.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers along the bracer. It wasn’t visible under the fabric of your dress, and if anyone wondered why you wore sleeves in the warm weather, nobody asked.

“There’s a war,” you spoke slowly, allowing him to digest your words. “For as long as history itself, a battle between freedom and order. My family… we fight for freedom.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning in a titch to examine you closer.

“You… fight?” He inquired, shaking his head the smallest bit. “What war? What are you talking about?”

“Assassins and Templars,” you breathed, watching as his eyes widened, not in recognition of the institutions, but in fear of the word you’d used.

Assassin.

It was an ugly word used to describe an occupation associated with greed and death. He didn’t know about the Order, though. Didn’t know that the Assassins you knew weren’t murderers without a cause, but defenders of the very freedom he enjoyed.

“You’re an-“

“Assassin,” you answered, quick to wrap a tight grip around his arm when he made to turn around.

For whatever reason, or maybe stroke of luck, he believed you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t associating you with the Order, but rather the occupation.

“Let me explain,” you breathed out, making sure to keep your voice even and gentle.

Even though he looked ready to dart away and take his family with him, he nodded once.

You blew out a breath, carefully letting his arm go. He rubbed at where you’d grabbed, and you realized perhaps you’d been holding on a little too tight.

“The Assassin Order is an ancient creed built on the idea of freedom of choice,” you explained, letting your carefully placed mask drop.

You didn’t fight the expressions on your face, nor did you keep your body language unnaturally still. For the first time since you’d known him, you were expressive.

“We don’t kill for money, Benedict,” you said, “Nor for political gain. If we kill,” his eyes widened at the word, “We do so as a last resort to protect others.”

“You’ve killed before?”

He sounded unnaturally small, like a child telling his parents he had a nightmare. You held his stare, praying he could see the sadness deep in your soul.

You hated killing.

It never, ever got easier.

But, you would darken your soul to protect the world from the ugly truth the Templars tried to spread.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes shining with a guilt Benedict couldn’t understand.

He puffed out a breath and ran a hand down his face, unable to look into your eyes anymore. He could see the sadness there, the heaviness of the guilt and torment you carried.

You weren’t a bad person. He’d known that, and learning of who you were didn’t change that. It did complicate it a bit though.

“I won’t tell them,” he finally spoke after a particularly long pause. “My family, I mean.”

You were both staring at the roses now. To him, the deep red reminded him of the colors of love, like the still-beating heart of a lover. To you, it was the color of blood, the same sticky heat that stained your hands from the years you spent devoted to your cause.

In that park, you both stood in silence, two people who were starkly different, but perhaps, who could understand each other in a way nobody else could.

The romantic who, despite his station in life, only wanted to create, to make beauty in a world that severely lacked it- and the Assassin who, despite spending a lifetime of fighting, wanted to feel safe again.

Even the wind acknowledged the shift in atmosphere between the two people who actively rejected the roles they’d been born into as it calmed down, it’s caress more like that of a lover than it’d been all afternoon.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you murmured.

He linked his arm back through yours, offering a bit of comfort in the torrent of your thoughts. Slowly, he tugged you back towards where his family was, his pace nearly stopping before he got too close.

“Is it lonely?”

The question took you by surprise, and you looked up at him to find, not horror, but concern. You couldn’t understand how he’d been able to accept you so quickly, but you desperately clung to the feeling.

“Constantly,” you answered sadly, the curve of your lips echoing the melancholic declaration.

Anthony had approached the two of you while you answered, and, despite surprising Benedict, you’d already noticed him. With some amount of amusement, the second son noted that particular bit of information.

“Princess,” he said stiffly, without the normal amount of warmth and affection, or ire, you noted dryly. “Benedict.”

His brother’s name was a warning, and the younger of the two was quick to scurry away with a half-hearted excuse.

“Viscount,” you inclined your head.

He paused for only a brief moment before, with a little bit too much aggression, he asked, “Are you courting my brother?”

There was a hint of mischief as your smile grew, and you gazed up at Anthony beneath your lashes.

“That, I dare say, is none of your business.”

His expression turned even more foul, and he all but growled your name.

“No, my dearest Anthony,” you slipped a hand around his bicep and squeezed, your stomach doing a gentle flip when he visibly relaxed at the answer. “I am not courting anybody.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must seem at least the slightest bit interested in my suitors, lest word get back to my father,” you joked, unable to bear the intensity with which he was staring at you.

He opened his mouth, as if to tell you to stay, but you slipped away before he could, your heart pounding in your chest. You glared at the spot, like you could will it to slow down.

Anthony Bridgerton was not, and could never be, an option.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine

[kaeyas-beloved]

Class 1-A with reader who's a high school detective? Or rather, UA's secret high school detective? Kinda like with Detective Conan! She helps the police solve cases, which she always gets right not through any Quirk but through logic and smarts. It's possible that she has a lot of excuse notes if she's ever late for school, or if she has to leave early to help with an extremely serious case. I bet a bunch of kids will be jealous until they figure out the reason behind her absences,

Characters: Class 1A

Genre: General/Humor/Fluff + Fic/Bulletpoints

CW: gn!reader (you/your/they/them)

a/n: 1) I've never actually watched Detective Conan (yet)! Is it any good? 2) This idea kinda grew on me when I started writing this, I think it's a really cool idea. Thank you for requesting anon, I'm really sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy! (and sorry for any OOCness, it's been some time since I watched BnHA but I still wanted to finish this)

Class 1A w/ a Secret Detective Reader

"Heyyyy it's (L/N)! On time for once are ya?" instantly your head snapped up at the cheerful call, blond hair with a streak of black catching your eye. Finishing off a note within the margin, you straighten and stretch for the first time in what felt like weeks. Both hearing and feeling that oh so satisfying pop you relax, offering the male and the group behind a tired smile. Briefly, you couldn’t help but wonder how Kaminari (and honestly everyone else) had so much energy this early in the morning. Though, upon remembering that they don't spend hours pouring through case files you brush the thought away quickly.

"Hmph, that's a first," the spiky, rough-around-the-edges ash blond tuts. You pay his comment no mind, something between a tired huff and a laugh passes through your lips, it's not like he's wrong.

"Heh, the world must be ending." Though you spoke in nothing but a mutter most heard your follow up. Good natured laughter fills the room, you included in its chorus.

It’s no secret that you're tardy more often than not. At the beginning, most didn’t know how to interpret your routine of a flimsy excuse notes in hand and a rushed apologizing. Were you not used to early morning classes? Traffic hold you up? Are you late on purpose perhaps?

“No, no and no,” you reassured one afternoon. Then why? someone asked, to which you left them with a flamboyant “I'm saving the world!” Everyone was quick to drop it back then - not out of respect, but because they knew if they're getting a dumb, zealous answer like that then they can kiss a real answer goodbye.

Of course, behind the scenes many were dying to know your real reasons. They theorized, sharing their thoughts with one another when you aren’t around. Hell, Kaminari, Mina, Sero and a select few all going as far as to make a post it board, red sting tying info together and all. After all, if Aizawa is always there, ready to deliver a quick and light scolding the second you try to sneak to your seat mid-lesson, it can't be that bad, right? Unfortunately, to this day your secret remains shrouded in mystery.

Your sly joke from mere moments ago sparked a large, seemingly never-ending conversation with the class. In your defense, you did try to stay on task, but really, how could you not spend some time with your friends? Not to mention that it's been far too long, the police and UA keeping you busy. A break is just what you need to stay in tip-top shape.

Attention pulled far from your gloomy detective work, the atmosphere felt light, carefree within the room as everyone talked and had fun. A welcomed change.

The rolling of the classroom doors puts an abrupt stop to the merriment. Being around long enough to know the routine, every teen made their way to their respective seats.

Aizawa said nothing at first, standing dead in his spot in the doorway. No one dared to whisper their concerns about if something happened, but it was safe to say everyone felt on edge.

Finally, he speaks, "(L/N)."

At once their world came to a screeching halt, twenty pairs of eyes darting between yourself and the teacher. Other than when you're late, you never get called out right off the bat, never mind the tone used.

Silence stretched on for several agonizing seconds, not one soul making a sound. Tension only rose when a few caught sight of the police chief out in the hall, additional officers on either side.

Shock morphs into fear. What's happened? Are you in trouble? Have you done something wrong? Got mixed up with the wrong crowd? With each new thought that pops up in their minds a disgustingly familiar feeling grows, threatening to consume them whole. Just as a group of students open their mouths to finally say something, defend your innocence, demand answers, the squeak of your chair being pushed back cuts it all off.

…How are you so calm?

Clear as day you appear unbothered. As if it doesn't appear that your arrest is upon you. So, is it just a cover? A way to hide the fear pumping through your system?

As you stand and walk further and further away from them all, Aizawa hot on your heels, the class is left to wonder if history is repeating. Are they about to be so paralyzed that they'll fail to protect a friend once more?

"Don't do anything stupid. We'll be back shortly," Aizawa's gruff voice says and the door shuts.

-- --

They're already planning your prison break, the sweethearts <3

Most rationale has left the room since no explanation makes sense other than worst-case :/

It's Bakugou - who just so happens to sit next to you - and all his smarts that loudly demands everyone to "calm the hell down", quickly adding that "they're not going to jail you cry-babies, they work for them."

Of course that does nothing to remedy the situation. What does Bakugou know? It takes the ash-blond shoving your discarded case documents into everyone's unsuspecting faces for them to believe him.

Cue a loud chorus of "THEY'RE A DETECTIVE!?" Which is true, you are in fact a detective. Or, a part-time one at least, if the scrawled Detective Work in your writing was anything to go by. Safe to say some of your closest friends are somewhat hurt you didn't tell them. Don't worry they get over it quickly, they've plenty of time to harass you, seeing as you’ve just walked back into the room.

And seeing how everyone is staring at you, multiple papers scattered between the group it's not hard to piece things together.

"The cat's outta the bag I suppose," you get ready for the storm that's coming your way, sitting back down and taking a deep breath.

No teaching was done that day.

Like most reveals that happen, things settle back to normal after a week. Now instead of getting asked why you were late your friends are asking for all the juicy details of your case (none of which you can actually tell them). Doesn't stop some from asking every time though,,,,

Feel free to talk to them seriously. You might not be able to tell them much, but if you're in a slump and need to talk it out with someone they're more than willing to listen. You'll either figure it out on your own or they'll end up saying something that makes everything click :)

You're no longer just UA's detective but Class 1-A's personal super sleuth now. Something's missing? Better call Sherlock Holmes. And with this bunch, you're going to get called a lot. You could make a profit if you started to charge them :|

I can definitely see them bringing you snacks/meals and something to drink if you're stuck working long hours or late into the night <3 Like they'll see your light on and they'd make sure to stop by the kitchen just so they can drop off something for you on their way back.

Stressful or upsetting case? These guys are the best at distracting you. Bakusquad will drag you out to play some video games in one of their rooms or at an arcade. If that's not something you're into or you're not in the mood you can always train with someone and let out some steam that way. Or or or the girls will gladly take you out shopping with them!

Many are more than willing to help you catch up on classwork. They understand that balancing class, being a detective for the school and an internship is no easy task

If you're ever gone for a long period of time because your work takes you out of town or something be ready for a warm welcome back and hugs the moment you walk through the door :)

Oh, and you're absolutely right Anon, no less than 80% of the class is jealous you get to leave early and they remain that way even after learning why lol. "Oh to be a detective and get to leave early!" Literally all of them at one point or another with their own way of saying it.

Tag list: @tickotaku // @decora-peaches // @dorkylittleweirdo // @thylocalcrackhead // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @unidentifiedzombie // @lordbugs // @akiria12167

. . .

Wanna be tagged in future works? Consider filling out this form! And if you want to be removed just DM or send an ask into my inbox!

#bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #class 1a x reader #class 1 a headcanons #bnha class 1 a #bnha class 1a #class 1 a x reader

[bloodofgrapes]

AA thoughts time

I’m the last person to ever “criticize” Ace Attorney for being unrealistic, because a) it’s a story, and thus designed for entertainment purposes, but b) I believe its wild premise allows it to explore real issues, emotions, etc in a way that winds up being beautifully authentic because reality is often stranger than fiction

However, if there’s any one thing that I could change in AA, it's that nearly everyone would be just a tad older. Don’t get me wrong, I think AA does great with what it has--Phoenix being a rookie attorney fresh out of law school, young and headstrong and still kind of naive while being an accidental genius at what he does, contrasting with the fact the Edgeworth burnt out this hard after only four years of practice. But it has this anime problem, where everyone is clearly written to be established professionals in their field (including characters like Gumshoe) while acting like 30 is old somehow.

I could, and possibly will, make an entirely separate rant about all the “prodigy” characters AA has, and my firm belief that Edgeworth is the only one that should have ever been allowed, but I digress

To get personal with things for a moment, I first played AA when I was a teenager, and I remember how it felt then--Phoenix and Edgeworth did feel so old and mature at the ripe age of 24, worldly with education and experience that seemed far beyond my grasp. However, revisiting the series as a man in his mid thirties has been interesting. They do still retain that feeling of being older and mature, but now I can’t help but feel that  their ages ought to reflect that.

@themumblingmouse turned me on to the idea that Phoenix likely worked as Mia’s paralegal through law school, and I could see him sticking with it for some time as he worked as her junior partner, doing all the behind the scenes work outside of the courtroom while she took the lead. More specifically though, I think about Edgeworth’s downward trajectory. As I said earlier, I do think it fits him well enough that it was only four years for him to go from a relatively bright eyed and bushy tailed bratty little asshole to, well... this

But time goes by fast the older you get. Four years is practically nothing. And to be fair to Edgeworth, we could even lend him some leniency and say that his life under Von Karma likely extended that, and we could consider basically all of his time as a teenager to be part of the spiral downward, but again, he was upbeat when he was twenty. It seems far more likely that it didn’t begin until he was working in earnest, slowly forking over little bits and pieces of his soul with every case, racking up that bad (and well deserved) reputation. To my mind, that sort of thing takes time, because you often don’t realize you’ve slipped into a hole until you’ve been in it for some time, especially if you’re the sort of person that’s used to brute forcing your way through life, finding justifications and rationalizations for your actions.

Phoenix was obviously the turning point, but that turning point would hit a lot harder for me if they were both older, I think. This entire post is a little inspired by that request I got about them hugging it out in Trials and Tribulations--the observations in the tags about how desperately Edgeworth needed to just let go are absolutely spot on, and at this point I basically HC that he had at least a decade to spiral down down down until finally hitting rock bottom, with Phoenix to raise both of them from the ashes. Ace Attorney has sincerely brilliant symbolism around death and rebirth, so why not allow them a little time between their lives, so that spiral meant something, instead of being a brief and regrettable footnote from one’s early twenties?

#Ace Attorney #grapes thoughts

[winterandwords]

If someone wanted a brief description of what Rafe looks like, where might they look for such information … for reasons.

Or, alternatively, provide me with a brief description of Rafe, if none exists elsewhere :p. For reasons.

Because of who I am as a writer, little details are scattered through Bridge From Ashes but there's no straight-up "This is what he looks like" moment. Also, it's from his POV, so descriptions of himself are usually relative to other people and again not clear statements.

So. In terms of build, he's a big dude, 6ft 4in with broad shoulders. In the parts of the book where he's in his mid-twenties and meets Gillen, he's physically strong because he has to be, but he doesn't eat well and it shows. He could do with a few homecooked meals and less alcohol.

Later, when he's in his early thirties and working for the Authority, he's a bit healthier looking and more muscular in that he has to be fit for his job, but not like gym-abs-and-dehydration looking. Just normal-person-with-physical-job shaped.

He's naturally blessed in the face department, described as "beautiful" by the evil guy in the prologue, which is why Rafe doesn't think about his own appearance very much apart from resenting it and he hates compliments.

By the point where he meets Gillen, he has a bunch of facial scars. The most obvious are the one that runs from the corner of his mouth to just under his left ear, and the other through the right side of his top lip. Clear descriptions of the injuries that cause those are at the very beginning of BFA. They heal badly and they genuinely fuck with his facial symmetry. The other scars he has then are smaller and less severe, but still definitely noticeable.

By the time he's been working for the Authority for a while, he's collected a lot more scars on his face, including a few more severe ones that are serious enough to unsettle people in a world where it's unusual to have any scars at all. Think more than Ben Barnes' character in the Punisher after the thing with the mirror, but less than Michael Pitt's character in Hannibal after the bad shit goes down.

His torso, arms and back are also covered in scars. Some of those happened in the course of a life of crime followed by a life of reluctant law enforcement, but a lot of them are either self-inflicted or self-inflicted by proxy. He's a hardcore masochist who's into cutting and burning. The ones that get mentioned specifically a few times are a row of neat lines below his collarbone.

I'm faceblind so I struggle a LOT with describing actual faces and I don't know how helpful it is when I try. Olive skin, brown eyes, high cheekbones, strong brow, full lips, permanent dark circles under his eyes. Frustratingly for me, he doesn't look like any real person I've seen and I can't hold images of faces in my head, so he's a bit of a blur.

OK, hair. Black, thick, slightly wavy, a bit longer when he's younger (not long enough to tie back but long enough to look messy) and shorter when he's working for the Authority.

Clothes. Very "cyberpunk aesthetic man" on Pinterest, long black leather coat that's seen better days. Authority clothes are either "cyberpunk soldier" for missions or smart black with a structured long black coat the rest of the time.

That description was the opposite of brief. Apparently I don't know how to describe characters briefly.

#answered asks #bridge from ashes

[lichfucker]

Hello please take this as an excuse to go off about cat mom bc I am Intrigued by Wander now 👀

sldjkfslkdfc thank you for enabling me iz 🥰🥰

wandering eye is a mountain lion tabaxi scout rogue and her stats are terrible but she's SO fast. I made her as my backup character for ingot after the very first session of reforged bc jd had been talking about what a shame it was that none of us were playing rogues lmfao. in like session six or something the party ran into wander while out traveling, and jd played her as an npc, and I've been sitting on the fact that that was me the whole time for the past four years.

wander grew up in an insular tabaxi community in the mountains that devoutly worshipped eyhemet, the g-d of the sun and fate and harmony (a cat lying in the sun is a holy experience). one morning when she was seven years old, the wind blew just right, and she locked eyes with a girl named sunrise over ashen peaks (ash for short, a snow leopard), and they both knew. fate had struck. they were destined for each other. they got married in their late teens, and ash became a cleric.

the continent where reforged takes place has a mountain range splitting it down the middle, and the two nations on either side of the mountains have been at war for the past fifty years, with the entire mountain range being disputed territory or active war zones or otherwise difficult to cross. one day when wander and ash were in their early twenties, a goblin refugee stumbled into town, seeking help to pass through the mountains. wander and ash volunteered-- wander being fast and quiet and knowing the land better than anyone, and ash being strong and protective and having healing magic made them the perfect pair for the job. so they did it. and they kept doing it. they built their lives around smuggling people across the border in both directions.

eventually ash got into a bit of strife with her g-d and they broke their faith. they met suri (one of the campaign's major npcs), a follower of the secret g-d of thieves, the unnamed thirteenth. suri told them she was planning to start a thieves' guild in the capital city and asked them to join, so they did. they found their new home in the city, and their new home in the unnamed thirteenth.

wander and ash kept doing their transport work, constantly traveling. when they were in town, they'd be surrogate moms to all the ruffians joining the guild, but they were usually gone, especially as the war continued. one day they were sneaking a prisoner out of the capital, but he changed his mind about the destination halfway through the trip, which ultimately led to them getting caught. wander was quick enough to break away from the cops, but ash... wasn't. ash was imprisoned in a magical tower designed to make people forget about their loved ones inside. soon enough the details of their existence just fade from your memory.

by the current point in the campaign, they're in their mid-40s and ash has been locked up for about five years. most people by now have forgotten all about ash. but not wander. nobody knows why. maybe it's a gift from the unnamed thirteenth. maybe it's a gift from eyhemet. maybe it's something stranger than that. but wander remembers. she dresses for stealth and concealment, but she always leaves her wedding band visible. she talks in the plural-- always saying "we," "us," and "our" instead of "I," "me," and "my"-- as a constant reminder that there should be someone beside her. she has extremely high dex and charisma but all the rest of her stats are garbage because those are all ash's skills and wander is incomplete without her.

wander has the keen mind feat and burns all written correspondence as soon as she's read it. all written correspondence she sends includes instructions to burn it, too. do not keep traceable evidence of her existence, and do not ever use her name. if anyone asks, her name is sight unseen, and her wife is named mist on the horizon. (for security, she doesn't use anyone else's name, either-- she refers to everyone by coded monikers and nicknames and epithets.) the government made sunrise over ashen peaks a ghost; wandering eye has become a shadow in kind.

basically, wander is an excuse for me to cry every time I listen to skeleton key by dessa.

#quaxorascal #thanks iz #bluh bluh #long post #wander #ash

[larandia011]

RESISTING FIRE / JOEL MILLER X READER

PART 1

Plot: Freya is the most intimidating woman in every room she walks into, but when she starts working for Joel, who is desperate to protect her at any cost, she is forced to come to terms with her own submission to him.

Notes: This is an intro to a sexual dom/sub love story, but I just wanted the beginning of my story out there to test the waters. It is meant for the reader to imagine themselves as Freya. I hope you enjoy it!

--

Boston was unusually gloomy on that Monday. A thick layer of fog had layered itself over the quarantine zone. The fog, combined with the frequent gusts of wind hurling sand around the air, made it hard to breath. I had a rag wrapped around my face to not inhale too much of the ash that the six-foot fire spit out, yet the heat painfully stung my skin, broiling my insides for each inhale I took. The glares from the fire spit out on the asphalt, singeing my feet anytime I managed to walk where a part of my shoe had ripped from its sole.

It was the morning of my third shift assigned to infected-burning duty, which I would have never been considered for if not for Tess, who had called it an early birthday gift by calling in a favor and got me «promoted» from the humble gigs as a trash-picker. A better workout, she had argued when she told me. As a mid-twenties woman with no prior skills from before the outbreak, my options in the quarantine were strictly limited to low-paid gigs or spending the days standing at the fabrics-stall alongside my mother. Compared to the latter, scorching heat and dead bodies sounded like a picnic.

I was lucky to meet Tess in my early teens, who raised me as her little sister. She had found me in the tunnels trying to swing at a FEDRA-soldier at the ripe age of 14, saving me just in time to not get shot. I had a hugely rebellious and dominating nature, not fitting in the shapes of my mothers cautious and victim-like behavior. So she took me under her wing and trained me to be as strong as her. We still sparred every single morning in the abandoned tunnels, with the promise that one day I would one day join her and Joels smuggling business when I was ready. I would still argue every week that I was, and though reluctant, she eventually agreed. Joel however, would shut down the subject before it ever started. He joined the occasional training, but rarely said a word or picked up a weapon.

I felt an uneasiness around him, along with most people in the qz. Hid frame broad and tall, his body a hardened shell. His face rarely conveyed any expression, yet his eyes were flooded of emotion. If, by a rare occasion, his eyes met mine, they pierced into my soul, analyzing me, making me flushed with color and feeling small in his intimidating figure.As determined as I was to not let anyone make me feel that way, I almost backed out when Tess informed me he would be the leader on the burn-gig for the next couple of weeks. Yet, I quickly viewed it as an opportunity to show him I had become a valuable asset for them in their smuggling-business. Unconsciously, i had never felt more motivated to finally get any form of approval by him.

«Freya, pick up the pace kid,» he barked at me as he walked by. Unphased by his comment, as they were equally distributed to everyone, I continued in the same pace. I was in better shape then anyone on the team, my arms carrying a lot more muscle then they showed off on my slender physique. My face was plump and young, not taking too much distain from the darkness of our surroundings. I almost looked too bright and alive to fit the picture, something I disproved by not being in the least a pleasant nor bright and witty girl.

Inattentively having my thoughts occupied by Joels comment, i threw the 170lb corpse over my shoulder and into the pit, causing glares of ash to burst at me. As one of the glares hit the an exposed part of my feet, I lost control and stumbled towards the fire, my hand touching the flames. The sudden pain throbbed through my arm, making me fall to my knees instinctively. «Fuck.. Fuck me!» I cried out and grabbed onto the railing of the truck behind me for support. The rest of the team had turned immune to screams and agony and did not even flinch, with the exception of one of the younger men who yelled out to the others «princess is down everyone! Only took 3 days too. You owe me a ration card Bill». The others laughed out in union. I was in no state to acknowledge the comment, but lowered my head in a small defeat. I had proved their prejudices towards me, and there was no turning back from it.

Joel was the only one who came over to help, yet he too looked highly bothered and unconcerned with the situation. His gestures did not match his face, as he delicately placed my hand in his and traced it softly with his rough, dirt-stained fingers. Knowing he would not care to look at me, I stared at him in confusion and sympathy. This was the first time he had touched me, sending waves of energy through my pain-ridden body. I tensed, not knowing what to make of my unexpected reaction. How could a man you would be afraid to even get caught looking at, have a touch that felt so tender, with hands so soft you feel yourself caving at his caress? A vision of who he was before the outbreak immediately caught my mind. Someone gentle, kind, happy.¨

«Freya?» I snapped back to the present to see that he had caught me staring at him longer than I should have, looking at me. My cheeks flushed to a bright pink color, my words at a loss. I was never intimidated or awkward around men. He was the only one who had that effect on me. He kept his gaze fixed on my face for a quick second, and looked back down at the red and blistering burn on the palm of my hand. «Shit, it doesn't look good. I'll have to bandage it, and then you need to go home.You won't be of use to me with one functioning hand.» His deep, rusty voice made the words sound like humming.

I wiped all softness off my face. «Try me,» i snarked back at him. «I will have to be six feet under before I give up todays ration cards.» He looked at me with an amused expression, his features almost forming a smirk, before he stopped himself and let his face fall again. I almost broke through the mask, I proudly thought to myself, trying to refrain from smiling so he would understand that I was not joking around. I was not about to be the weak link of the crew. It couldn't be too hard lifting with one hand.

«Calm down, tough guy. I get you're trying to show off your strength here, but I'm not killing off my crew member on the first week.». I closed in on the space between us, looking him dead in the eye with the last shred of confidence I had left for this argument. «I'm not going fucking home, you piece o..» He roughly jerked my arm before I let out my last words, dragging me so close to him that i felt his quick breathing on my neck, his eyes fixated directly at mine. He startled me in the change of manner, causing me to let out a groan. «I am not fucking asking. Now I will get you the rations, and if you say one more word you'll be out of a job.» Our eyes locked on each others for a moment of silent understanding, before I looked down in defeat by his dominating nature, and let myself be weak in front of the only man I knew would not take advantage of it. I felt his breath tingling on my neck once more, before I slowly stood up and turned away from him. «And get some new shoes before you kill yourself, kid.» He remarked, watching me walk away. Exhausted from the heat, I barely got in the door before I fell asleep.

I woke from my nap only a couple hours later, fully disoriented and in more pain then earlier. The bedroom was damp from the fog, and with the windows open the sound of military tanks and bustling market outside filled the room. I rolled slowly out of bed and glared at the clock hanging crooked by the doorway, my brain not fully conscious yet. I was supposed to had met Tess at the bar 10 minutes prior, and the worry of annoying her woke me up instantly. I walked in front of the cracked mirror in the corner of the room, and released my deep brown curls so they swept down my chest. I put on a pair of black tight-fitting jeans and a low-cut singlet, and quickly ran out the door.

At the bar, there was a lot more people than expected for a Monday night, barely any seats were available. The coarse air smelled of cigarettes and dirt, and there was a tenseness surrounding the overworked crowd, drinking and talking in a self-medicating matter. I scoured the large outdoor patio for Tess, looking profoundly confused as I stood there alone. «Hey princess! Are you lost, little girl?» I heard from the middle of the area, quickly recognizing the men from the burn-crew, along with a couple others I didn't know. At the backend of the table, Joel sat nursing his drink, ignoring the other men's reaction to my presence.

After the long day of inconveniences, there was not enough life in me to even throw a glance at the table of sad fuckbags. Not without turning hurting anyone, at least. I walked by the table, continuing my search for Tess, without success. I turned to the person who knew her every step as they lived together, and sent him a puzzled look, slowly walking in his direction to get an answer of her whereabouts. «She had to go on a mission, she asked me to tell you that she can't make it tonight» he utters without ever lifting his gaze. His face was softer than usual, as to signal some sort of apology for his behavior earlier. You didn't want to tell me that before I walked around here like an idiot? I remarked to myself, not bothering to say the words out loud. I was already defeated for the day, and it only remained to get home in one piece.

I was about to turn around as the man closest to me slammed his glass of beer on the table, and stood up facing me with only a couple inches of space between us. «So, is the fucking princess feeling any better? It sure as hell looks like it, strutting around here with your tits out trying to fuck your way to a free beer.» He said, smirking as he looked back at the table, all the others in approving laughter, except from Joel, who seemed to try to tune out the conversation by focusing hard enough on drinking. The man who i didn't know the name of, quickly grasped my injured hand and raised it up to show the others. «Here we struggle for 20 years, fucking killing ourselves out there for a days ration, and this little bitch gets a blister and throws in the towel!» He was yelling by now, causing a scene in the bar. Multiple tables quieted to listen in. I froze completely, hopelessly waiting for Joel to disclose that he had forced the decision on me, but now he looked up at me, just as frozen as I was. Had it been a better day the man wouldn't have been standing upright as this point, but with my good hand being in astonishing pain, combined with the fact that I was way too sober for this bullshit, made the brawl pointless to join in on. If I broke my other hand, I would be out of work for another week.

I quietly waited for him to release my hand, but his drunken ego was agitated by my silence, and he gripped it harder trying to get any reaction out of me. He pushed my palm onto his torso, still laughing in union with the rest as he traced it downwards his chest. I looked back at Joel again, this time he was staring directly at me with an expression I had never seen on him before. He looked genuinely concerned at this point, contemplating whether or not to stand up. «Now you didn't have to do all that to get my attention, sweetheart. But I'll get you that beer if you're so desperate,» he said, barely finishing the sentence before I shoved him with full force using my free hand, and with the sound of glass breaking he crashed backwards on the table. He quickly gained control of his feet again and was immediately filled with rage, ready to grab onto me, but I had already walked away and closed in on the exit. Not trying to look behind me, I was trying to make sense of the situation by listening in on them. I heard the man cursing uncontrollably as he started pacing towards me, but swiftly came to an halt by hearing Joels voice. «You take one more fucking step now, and your hand will have a lot worse fate than hers.» He did not have to raise his voice to make the man understand the genuine promise to that threat, and sat down as the table quieted down again.

As i turned the corner to my block, merely a two minute walk away, I spotted Joel In the corner of my eye, pacing to catch up on me. Having absolutely no patience for the coward, I hastily walked towards my doorway and grabbed onto the key before he stood in front of me. His walk was determined, but as he stood in front of me, he seemed to be at a loss for words. We stood there, looking at each other, letting the tension between us say more than any words could. He didn't owe me anything. To him I was only Tess's little sister and already the weakest link in his team, yet I could sense in him that he had the unexplainable feeling toward me that I had reciprocated for months. He felt the urge to protect me, to make sure I was safe. And in his presence, I had always felt this way, safe and guarded. Which was why I kept looking at him tonight, and he had failed miserably at being the guardian he sought to be. «I.. i didn't want there to be any issues If the guys would think I favor you. They're just drunk fucking idiots. But I had to make sure you got home safe,» his eyes fell to the ground, not being able to deal with his own vulnerability. My rage for him involuntarily vanished for a moment, as I listened to his words, looking into his deep sunken eyes, then up to his salt and pepper-hair and tracing his face down to his coarse and full lips, frowning as he stood in front of me in defeat of his own words. I gathered myself to not ruin my careless persona completely, and wiped my face of any emotion for him that filled it a second ago. «Don't fucking distinct yourself from those drunk fucking idiots, cause thats exactly what you are. But I didn't take you for a fucking coward as well, Joel» I ended, not letting him say another word before I turned the doorknob and ran up the stairs, slamming the door behind me.

I woke up the next day, my head spinning with thoughts of anger and anxiety. I felt rage for Joel where I should have felt indifference, as he was just one of 8 men at the table. I made a promise to myself to never be a victim, to never let my guard down. He was the only man who could fuel such an instinctive desire to be weak for anyone. Yet, my submission to him had merely been a part of my imagination, and I was determined to quit believing this narrative instantly. Falsely confident that I was over this girlish behavior, I took an ice-cold shower to wash off yesterdays horrible events. My hand had not gotten much better since yesterday, but I knew Joel would never deny me working after what had happened. After breakfast, a double shot of whiskey and some stolen pain-pills, I opened the front door and stopped up in the doorway, looking down to my utter suprise, a new pair of boots stood at the front of my doorstep. I stared at them for a second, my body not sure how to react, before I kicked them to the side and walked down the stairs.

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

[machineofreality]

Wirrin and the Fiends

Part One: The Snowy Mountains

Chapter One: Finding Work

Willamette’s was a quiet little inn on the second highest level of Tellan. It was made of stone, like almost every building in Tellan. Once, when it had still belonged to Willamette, it had been painted in bright greens and yellows and whites after the flowers that grew far below in the Blavan Plains.

Inside, a fire crackled against the chill of early autumn, staining the heavy stone fireplace with soot and ash. The fire glinted off old, pale, heavy tables and chairs and illuminated Arin, sitting behind the bar, reading a book.

Arin owned and ran the inn, named after her late wife. She was pale and skinny and a little hunched, her hands shook a little as she leafed through her heavy book. In some ways, it was lucky that Willamette’s wasn’t busier: Arin wouldn’t have had the patience for it.

Willamette’s single patron sat on the wide veranda out the front, which could only be reached by going through the taproom, in a pile of cushions. Wirrin lounged in the freezing morning air, sipping a steaming mug of marjoram, apricot, and honey tea.

She gazed vacantly down the wide steps of Tellan at the Blavan Plains, where the last harvests were starting. She was tall and tan and muscular, wide and heavy, with round cheeks, a wide nose and piercing, brown, monolidded eyes.

Terman could have been forgiven for thinking Wirrin didn’t notice him as she didn’t acknowledge his wave from the front door of Willamette’s. He almost tripped on the steps up into the taproom in his hurry and waved dismissively at Arin, who hadn’t been planning to get up from her seat.

With a huff, Terman slouched into the cushions near Wirrin. Wirrin didn’t look away from the view. ‘What can I do for you, Terman?’ she asked, in that quiet way that made Terman feel bad for interrupting her peace.

‘Trio come down from Esbolva,’ Terman huffed. He was trying not to pant from his run up from the caravanserai, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Wirrin. ‘Got money, going into the mountains.’

Wirrin nodded slowly and sipped her tea. ‘You thought I’d be interested?’

‘Got money,’ Terman said again. ‘A lot of it. Reckon they’ll be out a while. Immeran trying to talk to them. Gar and me got them held up for you.’

Wirrin finally looked at Terman. ‘How long?’

‘They said months, maybe into winter.’

Wirrin nodded. ‘Leaving?’

‘Today, if they can find someone.’

Wirrin sighed and gulped down the rest of her tea. ‘Best get to it then.’

Wirrin left the mug on the counter as she hurriedly followed Terman out of Willamette’s. Though she knew the way, she let Terman lead her down the backways and jumps down to the bottom north of Tellan, where the caravanserai was filling up with caravans heading north and south.

The trio from Esbolva weren’t hard to spot among all the morning chaos. They were straight-backed and well-dressed. Their boots looked new. And they were staring down their noses at Gar.

Immeran, who was talking to a caravan leader heading north, threw up his hands when he saw Wirrin. ‘Well fuck me then, I guess,’ he loudly proclaimed before storming off.

‘I got her, I got her,’ Terman called to Gar.

Gar turned with a graceful gesture and a wide smile. ‘Here she is.’

The trio from Esbolva were young, that’s what Wirrin noticed first. They weren’t as young as Terman, but they were close. In their mid-twenties at the oldest. Two men and a woman, all with similar, smooth faces.

‘Are you Wirrin, then?’ the woman asked, voice strong.

‘I am.’

‘This man has been regaling us with your achievements and credentials,’ the woman said, nodding to Gar. ‘We are in need of a guide, to take us into the mountains.’

‘Well that’s very nice of you, Gar,’ Wirrin said.

Gar grinned his gap-toothed grin. He was not so young.

‘We expect to take at least two months,’ the woman said. ‘Perhaps longer.’

‘We’re searching for something,’ the shorter of the two men said.

‘So you’ll be wanting someone to catch food for you,’ Wirrin said. ‘And find the safest path into the snow?’

‘That’s right,’ the woman said.

‘And you haven’t considered waiting for summer?’ Wirrin asked.

‘We can’t wait that long,’ the taller of the two men insisted.

‘It’s cheaper in summer, is all,’ Wirrin said. She plastered a thoughtful look on her face. ‘More than two months from the start of autumn, huh?’

‘We have plenty of money,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll even pay you an advance, for supplies.’

‘Well that’s very generous of you,’ Wirrin said, pulling her face into more of a frown.

But before she could even think to barter, the shorter of the two men pulled a small, leather bag from his coat and offered it to Wirrin. Bemused, Wirrin took it and looked inside. It was a genuine struggle not to laugh.

‘A hundred when we make it back alive,’ the woman said.

Wirrin managed to keep her mild frown and not start choking. ‘Well, if it’s so urgent, we’d best be on our way. What are your names?’ She tucked the bag into a pocket at her waist and began to circle the trio.

The woman didn’t so much as turn her head to watch Wirrin. ‘I’m Alina,’ she said. ‘And these are my brothers, Leran’ – the shorter – ‘and Hest.’

Leran followed Wirrin with his head, not straining himself to watch. Hest turned all the way around to keep facing her as she circled them. Their bags looked lightly used, but their ropes and picks and crampons looked shiny and new.

‘You’ll need more food,’ Wirrin said. ‘Pemmican. And warmer clothes.’

‘We have enough food for a month,’ Alina said, as Wirrin stopped in front of her.

‘You have enough for two weeks,’ Wirrin said. ‘You’ll need more. We’ll meet at the Church at noon and leave then.’

Alina nodded. Hest scowled.

Wirrin turned on her heel and started back toward Willamette’s. Terman and Gar followed her, leaving the trio to fend for themselves in the rapidly emptying caravanserai.

Only once they were certainly out of sight of the caravanserai did Wirrin start chuckling.

‘Well?’ Terman asked, leaning in, excitable as ever.

Wirrin pulled the purse out of her pocket and opened it wide enough to show the two of them. Gar joined in the chucking and Terman nearly choked.

‘For an advance?’ Terman coughed.

Inside the purse were twelve shiny, gold coins, crisply stamped with crossed a flower upon crossed hammers. Wirrin pulled out two and handed one to Terman and one to Gar.

‘Only seems fair, since you helped me get them,’ she said. Ten gold coins would have paid her well enough for the whole trip, even a trip twice as long in the dead of winter.

‘And they said a hundred more when they get back?’ Terman’s eyes were glittering. Normally he would get a silver or two for helping Wirrin land some work.

‘Even if they’re lying, I won’t be too put out,’ Wirrin chuckled.

Gar tried to bend the coin in his hands. ‘Pleasure as always, Wirrin,’ he said. ‘Good luck dying in the snow.’

Wirrin grinned, bringing out the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and forehead. ‘I appreciate that, Gar,’ she smiled. ‘Good luck feeding all your children through winter.’

Gar grinned back, his already wrinkled face folding itself into a map of a happy life. ‘I won’t need the luck now, will I?’ He held up the gold coin as he split off on the second level with a wave to Terman.

‘Mum’ll be so pleased,’ Terman said, smiling as they reached the next step. ‘I’ll tell her hello from you.’

‘Make sure she stays warm, alright?’ Wirrin said, smiling. She’d known Terman’s mother when they were both teens, before she’d left Tellan the first time. Terman had been six when she’d finally gotten back.

‘Will do,’ Terman called, finally free to hurry again. He rushed off into the city.

Tellan was built on wide, tall steps up the side of a small mountain. Seven steps in all, bridged by various staircases along its length. It defied expectations by not being a particularly stratified sort of place, though the top level was affectionately referred to as the Hermit’s Step.

Wirrin climbed back into Willamette’s, where Arin was still reading her book.

‘You’re in a hurry,’ Arin said, finally looking up.

‘I’m not in a hurry,’ Wirrin smiled. ‘I have work.’

‘Oh?’

Wirrin put a gold coin on the counter. ‘Some spoiled rich kids want to go into the snow for a couple of months.’

Arin stood, stiffly, and took the coin. ‘You planning on staying once you get back?’ She made some notes in a ledger behind the bar. ‘You know you’re paid ahead for over a full year, right?’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘What else am I going to use money for?’

‘Nice clothes?’

Wirrin chuckled as she made the short way up to her room to gather her things: bow, knife, rope, pitons, crampons, picks, shovel, hatchet, pans, sleeping rugs, a couple of sets of warmer clothes, and some soap. Once she would have travelled light, relying on her ability to hunt, but as she got older, she found she liked carrying cooking utensils more than she liked walking fast.

‘May the Light guide your travels, Wirrin,’ Arin said, still standing behind the bar. ‘And Health keep you strong.’

Wirrin smiled, she could appreciate the thought, at least. ‘Think how disappointed I’d be if Light had been there first,’ she said. ‘Oulvegesi atev tebal.’

Arin’s face pinched. Not only did she not like how flippant Wirrin was about the Gods’ blessings, she didn’t like when anyone spoke Estanen around her. ‘For now,’ she said, flatly.

‘I’ll see you in a couple of months, I’m sure,’ Wirrin said. ‘Buy yourself some nice, new books or something.’

Arin’s smile was more genuine this time, pulling soft wrinkles and crow’s feet all over her face. ‘Alright, fine,’ she said. ‘Try to be safe.’

‘I’ll try.’

Next was a trip back down to the bottom step for food, dried tea and some spices and salt. Even when she was young, Wirrin would at least bring some spices and salt with her on her travels. What use was bland food, after all?

She regretted telling Alina to meet at the Church building when she was early and had to wait nearby. At least no one came out to try to talk to her.

The Church Building in Tellan was small and barely counted as being a part of the town, off the side of the steps as it was. Like all the Church buildings Wirrin had seen, it was pentagonal, stone, and grim. The chased copper signs either side of the door had been green longer than Wirrin had been alive. On top, a love-heart surrounded by wavy sun rays, below it a flower over a crossed sword and hammer.

Wirrin had thought, many times, about possible redesigns for the Church’s symbol. Having two levels to the design really made it look like some of the Gods were less important than the others.

At the very least, the rose should be in the sun, not the heart.

Wirrin’s design musings were thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Alina and her brothers. They were wearing the same, dark red, dyed hide clothes they’d been wearing in the caravanserai, but at least their packs looked significantly heavier.

The only thing about getting out of the city that Wirrin wasn’t looking forward to was eating pemmican for a month.

‘All ready?’ she asked, by way of acknowledgment.

Alina nodded, followed shortly by Leran and Hest.

‘Best get going then.’

#writing #fantasy #fantasy story #writeblr #original world #original writing #Wirrin and the Fiends #I'll actually post about it in a minute but the plan is to just reblog this to add additional chapters for the rest of part one #then a new post for part two. et cetera

[duckapus]

Avatar Ages

In as close to descending order as I can get. @forthedancingandthethriving if you have corrections for Tulip, Juliano and Nimbus's placements please tell me so I can edit

Laharl: Canonically 1316, looks and acts around 18 or so (albeit a very short and somewhat immature 18, but still.)

Ramagog: Hundreds of years old, vaguely an adult

Olimar: Early-to-mid forties

Juliano: Late thirties, acts more like he's eighty sometimes

Mario, Barry and Tune: Mid thirties

Nimbus and Red: Probably early thirties or late twenties, it's a bit hard to tell with them being animals and all

Kirby: Claims to be the youngest adult, also has mentioned his species is immortal and don't bother actually remembering their exact ages after the first hundred years or so, refuses to elaborate

Shantae: 19

Sora: 18

Tulip and Ash: 17, with Tulip being less than a month older than Ash. She Can And Will hold this over his head if given the opportunity

The Arles and Frenzy: 16, Doppel is technically older due to her perceived thousands of years alone in the void but is identical to Arle physically and acts younger due to her trauma and missing out on any post-Madou character development, while Frenzy is older than both by a couple months

Elanore: Official documents claim she's 12 and everybody has agreed to Go With It because Clone Ages Are Weird

Bonus: Fred was Vaguely a Young Adult and Spudnick was Vaguely a Child when they were alive

#smg4 #smg4 ocs #headcanon #laharl #lord ramagog #captain olimar #juliano #mario #barry the blook #tune dark #nimbus #red angry birds #kirby #shantae #kh sora #tulip #ash ketchum #arle nadja #doppelganger arle #frenzy the chupacabra #elanore haltmann #smg4 fred #smg4 spudnick #age headcanons #giving tulip and ash Twin Middle Children Energy seemed funny

[dear-indies]

Hi! Could you help me find a fc that is mid twenties-early thirties, brown or black hair, female or AFAB, that could be a ballerina? Meaning either is one or has the resources to portray one? The character is Irish, but the fc doesn't necessarily have to be! Thanks so much for your time, and for all you do here!

Nelly Karim (1974) Egyptian / Russian - is a ballerina and actress!

Sutton Foster (1975) - is a dancer and actress, role in Bunheads!

Aesha Ash (1977) African-American - is a ballerina!

Svetlana Zakharova (1979) - is a ballerina!

Jenna Dewan (1980) Lebanese, Polish / German, English - is a dancer and actress, ballerina role in Step Up!

Ji-Hyo Song (1981) Korean - a ballerina in Princess Hours!

Summer Glau (1981) - is a ballerina and actress!

Misty Copeland (1982) African-American, German / African-American, Italian - is a ballerina and actress, had a role in A Ballerina’s Tale!

Marianela Núñez (1982) Argentine - is a ballerina!.

Alessandra Mastronardi (1986) - Carla.

Sonoya Mizuno (1986) Japanese / English, Argentinian - is a ballerina and actress, a role in High Strung!

Sofya Skya (1987) - is a ballerina and actress!

Tiler Peck (1989) - is a ballerina!

Autumn S. Klein (1989) - is a ballerina!

Francesca Hayward (1992) Kenyan / English - is a ballerina and actress!

Lyna Khoudri (1992) Algerian - is a ballerina and actress, role in Houria!

Anastasia Shevtsova (1995) - is a ballerina and actress, Polina!

Michaela DePrince (1995) Sierra Leonean - is a ballerina!

Kristine Froseth (1995) - Birds of Paradise.

Zaria Simone (1996) African-American - Pretty Little Liars.

Alicia Mae Holloway (1996) African-American, Cherokee - is a ballerina!

Maimun Puteh (1996) Malaysian - Hijabsta Ballet, her character is hijabi, I know you mention hair colour but I had to mention her!

Diana Silvers (1997) Ashkenazi Jewish / Swiss - Birds of Paradise.

Miko Fogarty (1997) Japanese / English - is a ballerina!

Lizzy Howell (2001) - has pseudotumor cerebri and is a ballerina!

Stephanie Kurlow (2001) - is a ballerina and also again also hijabi, I know you mention hair colour but I had to mention her!

Colleen Werner (?) - is a ballerina!

Natalie Burn (?) - is a ballerina and actress!

Sarah Murphy-Dyson (?) is a ballerina and actress!

and then for those looking for trans suggestions!

Jin Xing (1967) Chinese - is a ballerina!

Here you go!

#fc help #rph #rpc #ballerina fc #ballet dancer fc

[burlveneer-music]

Gregg Kowalsky - Eso Es - RIYL Japanese electronic New Age of the 90s

Raised in South Florida and trained at Mills College under Fred Frith and Pauline Oliveros, Kowalsky first came to prominence during the mid-2000s as a member of the thriving experimental music scene in the Bay Area, issuing a series of stunning albums on imprints like Kranky and Root Strata and contributing to a reinvigoration of American made Minimalist and electroacoustic music. In an addition to composing solo works, pieces for large ensembles, film soundtracks, dance performances, and site-specific installations over the past twenty years, during the 2010s Kowalsky concentrated his energies as one half of the critically acclaimed duo Date Palms, performing extensively and releasing three hypnotic albums, including 2011’s Honey Devash on Mexican Summer. Eso Es is an album that might not have been; a phoenix from the ashes, born of restlessness and fatigue, that doubles as a poignant reminder that experimental music doesn’t have a fixed aesthetic or “sound.” Returning to Kowalsky's childhood fascination with synthesizers and plunging headlong into the joys of the unknown that drew him toward experimentalism decades ago, the album was composed and recorded almost entirely on a Yamaha DX-7 synthesizer and sequencer both guided by overdriven MIDI data. The album’s seven compositions are the result of an entirely new process for the artist, embracing chance and the organic dialogue between an artist and the limitations and possibilities naturally presented by an unfamiliar instrument. While unquestionably led by a clear sense of process and structure, both were developed responsively, in real time, emphasizing listening as a key element within the act of composing. The resulting lines of shimmering synthesizer and intoxicating rhythms bubble with a gleeful naiveté that often informs the early years of an artist’s practice.

#Gregg Kowalsky #electronic #midi #new age #ambient #electroacoustic #los angeles #2023 #mexican summer #Bandcamp

[torchickentacos]

Hi hmmm i guess my WIP themes rn are mid-life crises. I mean I told you my Norman idea but I'm also working on a moms fic that happens pretty much right after Caroline's divorce and just about Delia helping her through it. Also, early 20s crises AKA Chloe not knowing if she wants to keep doing contests. It's been months since I've updated oops but I think some of it hits a lil close to home rn.

Also, just relationships w/ ppl across distance and time? Idk if that makes sense but my appeal fic has Dawn competing in Hoenn with Kenny, Drew, etc. while Zoey is competing in the master rank in Sinnoh and kinda having a tough time, and just how they miss each other and keep in touch and support each other through it. My OT4 fic spans AG to at least XY, I think Drew will travel with the gang for some of AG before he and May go to Johto, and after that there'll be occasional calls and reunions and time skips and such. Very much a WIP lol. I guess one of my shigesatogou WIPs falls into that category too just bc at that point it's been years since Gary's really talked to Ash so he feels a lil weird about how close he and Goh are.

Whew that got long anyways I hope u enjoyed reading this friend! <3

HIIIIIIIII ANSWERING ASKS NOW I AM SO HAPPY I GOT SOME! I asked for them and then took a quiz and a shower and made dinner and didn't answer them oops. SO.

First off, we love a good midlife crisis. And now I kind of want to make a norman midlifecrisisdivorcecore amv to this song, which I only know isnce I'm the oldest of four. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XSdEo0Fel8 And I LOVE seeing the moms content so lmk when that's posted! and YES I can see the chloe thing hitting close to home-idk what your situation is, but in general early twenties is seemingly prime real estate for quarterlife crises. I feel like I have one every other week.

And, putting my usual lighthearted taylor self away for a second here, I think it's really important to write those stories about relationships across time and distance. It's something that I've struggled with a lot personally, and it feels like it never gets easier to keep in touch with people. I love that concept narratively, though, and there's a lot of potential for emotional rollercoasters there. There's potential for so many complicated emotions-one that sticks out to me that I'm writing in my wip is the idea of hearing about how good smeone's been doing without you and wishing that, in some capacity, they could at least pretend to be as broken up about the timing and distance as you are. idk.

Is this the may/drew/ash/gary OT4 because I am IN LOVE with the idea of them! I feel like my answer isn't hella coherent but I am looking forward to everything you've mentioned here- especially the ot4 and moms content!!!!!

#friends and mutuals tag #thank you!!!! #taylor's tag

[altfire-archive]

wretch

Summary: Brought together by fate and circumstance, a young necromancer and a former bandit leader learn to live together, hiding in plain sight.

Three prequel vignettes to "the horror and the wild," which can be read either before or after with no real difference.

Tags: Original Breton & Nord Characters, Platonic Meet-Cute, Found Family, Trans Male Character, Implied/Referenced Transphobia

Rated: T

Word Count: 3.7k

Excerpt

He almost doesn't hear the knock on the door, the pounding of rain so loud outside, but he does. Brandr doesn't often get visitors - never does, in fact, preferring to keep to himself aside from his weekly supply runs to Falkreath. Even if he did get visitors, they wouldn't come by this late, so it's with a deep frown that he opens his door.

"Let me in or I'm burning this place down."

Brandr blinks, staring down at the drowned rat of a kid standing on his doorstep. He's tiny, black robes stuck to him with the weight of the downpour, blonde hair dripping into his eyes and plastered to his jaw and neck. It takes a second for the shaky-voiced threat to process, but Brandr just... stares.

"Do I know you?" he asks, and the boy's glare only deepens.

"No," he says, glancing behind himself, back up the road. Brandr follows his eyes, but there's nothing there. "Just let me in. Please."

Brandr considers for a long moment, but between the kid's robes and magical threat, he decides not to risk pissing him off. He steps back, letting the boy track rain and mud onto his floorboards.

The boy notices the greatsword on the mantel immediately and tenses.

"You're a soldier?" he asks, shoulders about his ears.

"No," Brandr says honestly. "I'm just the idiot farmer who let you in. Who are you running from?"

Big green eyes blink up at him, caught off guard by the question. He can't be over twenty, more likely in his mid to late teens. "How do you-?"

"Answer me," Brandr says, brow furrowing. He steps between the boy and his sword, arms crossed. "Now, boy."

For a moment he seems to consider, eyes flitting around as if he'd find an escape. He's nervous, all the bravado from his threat already gone like he didn't expect to get this far. Brandr wouldn't keep him if he left, but thunder crashes loud outside and the boy steels, like he knows there's nowhere else he can go. He swallows.

"No one," he says at last. "I was- I was arrested. Imperials."

Brandr's chest pangs with sympathy, but his expression only darkens. "What did you do?"

"That's not-"

"Boy."

He flinches as if struck. "Necromancy. I got- I was expelled from Winterhold. I had nowhere else to go, so I found-"

"A coven?" Brandr finishes for him, and the boy nods. That explains his robes, at least. "So the Empire caught wind and cleared you out?"

"I escaped," the boy says. "At first. But then they found me." He averts his eyes. "They were taking me to Solitude, but I- I'm not going to prison. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Aye, I'm sure," Brandr says, rolling his eyes. "So what? They're right behind you? And you brought them right to my-"

"No!" the boy exclaims. "No, I- I... They're not following."

A beat. Brandr bursts out laughing and the boy winces, at first, at the sound. "You're insane. You killed- how many?"

The boy's cheeks go pink. "Four."

Brandr shakes his head, still laughing. "That's- well. Impressive." He glances to the door, runs a hand over his shaved head. "You running anywhere in particular?" The boy shakes his head. "You ever worked a farm?"

The boy blinks. Stares. "No. You- you're offering me a job?"

"You can't run forever," Brandr says, shrugging. He doesn't admit the boy reminds him of himself - except this kid was lucky enough to get caught early, before he'd set down roots, before 'losing everything' meant twenty years of banditry, now a pile of ash and bones. "You can keep a low profile? Won't get us caught by the Empire?" The boy nods, too-fast. Eager. "Then you can stay. We'll figure something out."

The boy just keeps staring, as if Brandr had two heads. He glances back to the sword. "You don't like the Empire," he says, low enough it may have been to himself. "But you're not a Stormcloak?"

"You and I have more in common than you think," Brandr says with a shrug. He extends a hand to the boy. "Brandr Steel-Blood."

The kid only hesitates a moment before taking the hand. "Édouart Langstone."

"Édouart?" Brandr says, making sure he's getting the pronunciation right. He's never met many Bretons.

The boy nods. "You can call me Ed."

"Aye, Ed. Let's get you out of those robes."

[ao3]

#the elder scrolls #tesblr #tes fic #tes ocs #fanfiction #watch your feet #thatw #the excerpt is just. the whole first vignette sdkjhgkj