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wakaoujisenhime · 3 years

Note

Hello! Lots of love to you. 😘 can I request GoM+ Takao thinks reader is going to breakup with them but is actually not. It can be funny misunderstanding or angst anything really. Happy ending.

A/N: Lots of kisses for you my dear anon! 💋 I tried to keep them all the same length, but guess what?? I failed (✌�� ՞ਊ ՞)✌︎ Hope you’ll enjoy these nonetheless!! <33

Tags: GoM and Takao x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅ angst ✅ jealousy ✅

image/art source: Takao -> Pixiv (by もいさま)

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Kuroko:

Being in a relationship with Kuroko was filled with nothing but tranquility and love. The two of you rarely had any type of conflict with each other, but one very urgent problem you’d always had in mind was the lack of communication. Because your boyfriend was so silent and barely complained whenever something was amiss, you tended to misunderstand each other…

One morning after you’d entered Seirin’s school building, you immediately caught a glimpse of your blue-haired boyfriend, and just as you were about to go up to him and greet him with your usual hug, he wordlessly turned his back to you and disappeared in the crowd. His behavior was quite unusual, but you figured that he just didn’t see you and went on with your day.

Unfortunately, the young man kept showing you the cold shoulder on that day, and by the end of his team’s basketball training, he’d even gone back home before you.

“Did something between you two happen?” asked Kagami as soon as he saw your dejected reaction to the unexpected news. Your grip on your school bag’s rims tightened and you simply shook your head.

“Not that I’m aware of anything…”

“Then why don’t you just ask him?”

His teammates stared daggers at the tall young man who had once again said something insensitive, but to you, it was a simple summary of the constant problem between your lover and yourself, so you couldn’t help but giggle at his question and nod.

——

Just where have you hidden yourself Tetsu?!

Annoyance had distorted your usually calm facial features and was chasing away any of your classmates that hoped to approach you for whatever reasons. After Kagami had given you the necessary push you needed, you made it your mission to find your lover and confront him once and for all, but he was nowhere to be found. No matter who you asked, where you went, what you did, it was as if he never came to school. At times such as these, his low presence proved to be pretty useful and a damn nightmare for you, but you stayed vigilant and even decided to make use of some…unexpected tactics.

During the second break, you sprinted to your lover’s classroom, knowing fully well that he was already gone, and called for his partner, who only very reluctantly agreed to accompany you during your search. The plan you’d forged relied entirely on Kagami’s strong presence that - according to his teammates - was so strong that even the people who saw him daily couldn’t help but stare at him. You knew that Kuroko was more or less immune to this and preferred to look down at his book, so you were positive that with this plan you’d find the odd one out of the crowd pretty easily.

Luckily for you, the plan was a success and after just a couple of minutes you’d caught sight of the familiar blue hair, but when you locked eyes with your loved one, a sharp pain ran through your chest. Kuroko looked heartbroken and had to bite his lip to hide his anger and tears.

“(Y/N), this is your chance! Go! Run!”

The unexpected encouragement from the man next to you managed to wake you up from your trance and not even a second later you were running after your lover. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t that quick and on top of that, you were convinced that he ran extra slower than usual because somewhere deep inside of him he wanted to talk to you as well.

“(Y/N)…I-”

“We can’t continue like this Tetsu,” you began and intended to take a small breather before you continued, but the anxious face of your counterpart made you reconsider, “what I mean to say is, that we can’t ignore our constant misunderstandings due to miscommunication. I love you Tetsuya and whenever I am with you everything is nearly perfect, but we need to do something about your aversion of expressing your opinion and my reluctance to speak up about it.”

You couldn’t blame him for being so surprised that he couldn’t answer instantly since you surprised even yourself with how direct you were. Just as you were about to break the uncomfortable silence between you two, Kuroko unexpectedly wrapped his arms around you in a hug.

“Thank god…I thought you wanted to leave me for Kagami-kun.”

“Excuse me, what? Why would I-” you stopped for a moment and remembered the scene he saw just a couple of minutes ago before you corrected him, “…I needed his help to find you, since all of my earlier attempts were futile against the legendary Phantom Sixth man, you know?”

And with that small joke, you both chuckled, kissed each other, and decided to spent the rest of the break hand-in-hand, while you resolved the small thorn in your relationship.

Kise:

Being Kise’s lover was pretty tiresome and restricting. Since he was a famous model a lot of rules had to be followed by not only him but you as well.

Any selfies you took are not to be shared with anyone and not to be published. Bragging about him as your boyfriend was out of the question. Public dates? I think not.

When his manager had first thrown all of these at you, you were pretty stomped and ready to burst with anger, but he stopped you and after your talk, Kise reassured you that you would still do the majority of the things “normal” couples do, but you’d simply have to be more careful and aware of your surroundings than others. You trusted him of course and he didn’t lie, in fact, he made an enormous effort to provide you with a proper love life, one that you deserved. Much to your surprise, everything was working out just fine and you got used to the abnormalities of some situations pretty quickly, but as we all know life can rarely be filled with nothing but sunshine and rainbows…

-` EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH MODEL №1 KISE RYOUTA ´-

That was the headline of one of the many magazines your boyfriend was featured in. You always made sure to show your support for his career by buying almost every issue that had a section dedicated to your blond lover, that and the fact that the photographers and designers always made him look hotter than he already was. With a big grin on your face, you browsed the magazine until you found the corresponding pages and began reading yet another interview.

At first, the questions were pretty standard and tame, asking the young model what his future plans were, how he manages school, basketball club, and modeling without being stressed out at all, and many more similar questions such as these. Being his significant other, you caught a few lies of his that he had to make up in order to keep your relationship a secret and even though it didn’t sit entirely right with you, you brushed it off since you knew that he couldn’t help it. With mixed feelings, you read on until one particular question and answer caught your eye.

-` Q: A lot of your female fans have been constantly speculating about what type of boyfriend you’d make, what’s your take on that subject?

-` A: (laughs) Well you see, I hate to break it to everyone, but I like the type of women that don’t tie me down. I just can’t imagine myself being with the same person every single day, it’d be quite suffocating, you know?

You stared at that answer for a while, hoping that the words would just merge into something that didn’t sound so…ruthless, but to no avail. Just as you were about to continue your lecture, the front door to your apartment opened and the familiar voice of your lover echoed, filling your home with more life than before. While the blond removed his shoes and jacket you quickly hid away the magazine and forced yourself to smile, hoping that he wouldn’t notice…

——

“You damn idiot, what were you thinking?!”

“Oh (Y/N)…what do you even see in him?”

“I have never been more pissed off to be in the same team as you…”

The moment Kise had entered the gym to participate in today’s training all of his teammates had surrounded him and had begun reprimanding him for something he couldn’t quite understand because of how chaotic everyone was. It took a while, but when they became more or less calm he used to chance to find out just what’s got them so pissed off.

“Isn’t it obvious you imbecile?! That over the top answer of yours is what we’re so mad about”

“Kasamatsu-senpai I can’t quite follow…what answer are you referring to?”

After being kicked down by the shorter man and lectured yet another time, Kise finally understood just what this fuss was about. You’d been quite out of it since his latest interview got published, so the guys decided to find out what had you so bothered and the answer was, of course, Kise…who else?

“B-But I didn’t mean it! It was just for show an–”

“Does (Y/N) know?” interrupted Moriyama with an unusually serious tone. Your lover intended to answer fully confident that you were aware, but a small voice inside of his mind stopped him in his tracks. How were you supposed to know that he didn’t mean it when he never explained himself? What if the reason you’d been so absentminded these past few days was that you were planning on leaving him?

N-No…I can’t let that happen…i-if we break up then what am I–

“Excuse me, is Kise here?”

At the unexpected sound of your voice all of the members instantly shut up, turning to you, but before anyone could answer you, the blond took off sprinting right towards you and wrapping his muscular arms around your body.

“Please forgive me (Y/N)-cchi, I…I figured we’d been over this and that you know that no matter what I say to the press, I never really mean it. It’s all supposed to be a façade to make me more attractive to the public, b-but you know me, right? The real, insecure, weak, and ambitious me…the one that’s no good without you…”

Even if he’d taken you by surprise with his sudden hug, his words rendered you pretty much immobile and left you with no choice but to listen to his desperate apology. He held you tighter and buried his face in the crack of your neck. The moment you felt something wet drip down on your clothing, you wrapped your arms around him protectively, gently caressing his head, and kissing his temple all the while he whispered one apology after the other, begging you to never leave his side.

“I won’t ever leave you, Kise…I promise”

Midorima:

“…and with that, we’re coming to today’s last and unfortunately most unluckiest signs of all…Cancer!”

At the sudden announcement, Midorima flinched, grip tightening on his iPod, as he continued listening to his daily horoscope. His sign being the unluckiest out of all was quite the rarity and that alone was worrisome, but the fact that today’s misfortune was predicted to be in his love life made the man the more afraid. Usually, he’d ignore any prognosis that went beyond his career, but the moment you had become his girlfriend, Midorima couldn’t help but lend an ear every time the presenter of his favorite show mentioned the word love.

Your lover’s flame for you has been near extinction, I suggest breaking up with them before they do, or else this pain will haunt you for eternity…

With heavy steps, the green-haired man made his way to his school, lucky item in hand and a never before experienced fear deeply rooted in his heart. If possible he’d try to avoid you as much as possible today, so that you couldn’t break things off with him. He was aware that his behavior was quite over the top, but that was his way to cope with the anxiety of losing you - his most important person. In Midorima’s eyes this was a solid plan, but putting it into action was harder than expected.

Every time you jogged up to him with your angelic smile, your big and beautiful eyes that sparkled the moment you saw him, the energetic way you waved to your boyfriend when you spotted him across the hallway were so adorable and heart-warming that whenever he had to act extra cold towards you, it felt like his heart was being torn apart anew every single time. While he was beating himself up over his behavior, you simply shrugged it off and figured that he was on his usual tsundere trip for some reason and decided to ask him about it after basketball practice.

“Shin-chan sure is acting weird today, huh?” asked Takao with a hint of amusement in his voice as he sat down next to you on a bench in the courtyard. You simply looked up at him and nod with resigned smile on your face as you answered: “I’m somehow used to his antics, but something must’ve happened for him to act so…distant.”

The boy next to you studied your expression and despite his usual enjoyment of watching a misunderstanding between the two of you unfold, he could see how much the green-haired man’s behavior was weighing on you, so he broke his silence and told you about Midormia’s plan that he’d schemed following today’s horoscope.

——

“Midorima Shintarou, we need to talk…now!”

Your loud and sudden order startled the young man in gym clothes, who was mere movements away from throwing his umpteenth three-pointer, as well as his teammates. If it weren’t for the serious tone in your voice, he would’ve come up with some kind of excuse to dodge the upcoming conversation.

Now that the two of you were outside of the gym you didn’t beat around the bush and got straight to the point: “Are you seriously avoiding me all day because of Oha Asa’s words? Is that how little you believe in me and my feelings for you?” Your boyfriend never quite knew how to deal with such straightforwardness and seeing how with each question you uttered, the tears in the corners of your eyes grew, pushed him even further into a corner until he couldn’t handle it anymore and just needed to shut you up. Out of nowhere Midorima took a tight hold of your shoulders, seizing your frantic movements, and pressed his lips firmly to yours, kissing you in the process.

“…now that I finally have your attention, allow me to explain myself, will you?” he asked and waited for your nod before he continued “Look…I know I overreacted and to be honest, my behavior bothered me more than you think. I was just…j-just so afraid to lose you. Up until now everything Oha Asa said came true, s-so–”

Before he could finish his sentence, it was your turn to kiss him on the lips and use his moment of confusion to stop the train of negative thoughts that were about to overwhelm him. “I love you Shintarou…more than any horoscope could ever hope to calculate and sure, every time you listen to this show it all comes true, but did you forget that my sign is on that show as well?”

Your sudden question caught him a little of guard, but the moment you pulled something small out of your pocket he couldn’t help but smile to himself as a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Unfortunately for you, today is my lucky day and your beloved presenter advised me to be more assertive than what I’m used to, and show my lover just how much he means to me.”

Aomine:

With quick steps, you neared the basketball club’s gym while frantically looking around for your boyfriend, who’d once again decided to ditch today’s training and laze around somewhere.

“Captain, we might have a problem!” you shouted out the moment you entered the building, ready to break the unpleasant news to the young man in glasses, who looked surprisingly relaxed, even though one of his best players was missing yet again. But before you could even say anything he simply put his hand up, motioning you to look behind him with his head, and there you saw the wanted man, crouched down while reading something.

With a heavy sigh, you joined Imayoshi and Wakamatsu, who was looking at the power forward with hopeless and annoyed expressions. After explaining to them that you couldn’t find him at his usual spots, you asked how they got him to join practice that quick.

“Oh you know…the usual” the blond said as he tapped a few times on his mobile phone, searching for something, and the moment he found it, he showed you the typical photo with which they always managed to catch Aomine: one of his favorite gravure magazines being held above a candle’s flame. You eyed the image a tad longer than what the men next to you were used to and then replied drily: “I see.”

The two players you were standing next to, were quite surprised by your reaction and couldn’t tear their eyes from your back as you walked towards the bench where their coach and manager were seated. They wanted to brush it off at first but the moment you had sat yourself down, your sad expression managed to guilt-trip them to such an extent that they immediately walked to the dark-skinned young man to lecture him.

“Aomine, you idiot, stop reading these things already!”

Said man didn’t even flinch at the sudden scream from the blond and continued looking through his magazine. Wakamatsu was already agitated enough and ready to throw punches at his sitting teammate, but the captain stopped him with an unobtrusive head-shake and took his chance not short after: “Ya see…your cute girlfriend’s over ‘ere and she looks mighty disappointed at the fact that ‘er boyfriend gives some random women more love ‘n attention than ya give ‘er. If ya keep that up, then who knows what could happen.”

It didn’t take much to annoy or upset your boyfriend and if you were as tactful as Imayoshi, you could do it whenever you felt like it, but this time he intended to make the man before him aware of what seemed to be a minor problem.

The two of them watched as Aomine finally closed his magazine and stood up, a terrifying glare fixated on the wall before him, and hissed out: “My relationship with (Y/N) has nothing to do with you, so don’t even butt your noses where they don’t belong.” He turned and just as he was about to leave and enter the practice match, he stood beside the man with glasses and stared at him with the same amount of bloodlust he had whenever he faced a strong opponent, and whispered: “Call her cute one more time and see what happens, captain”

——

What the hell is going on?

With a furious expression and gritted teeth, Aomine’s eyes followed your frantic movements in annoyance. He watched how you held Sakurai’s hands and whispered something to him to calm him down, how Wakamatsu ruffled your hair as thanks for bringing him a bottle of his favorite drink and a towel, and how Susa and Imayoshi patted your back while praising you. Today was the first time he actually noticed this, but now everything was making sense.

Since the beginning of this week, Momoi told him that she’d be away for two weeks and couldn’t manage the team in that timeframe. Her childhood friend wasn’t interested, so he didn’t ask any further details such as why she going away or who’d take her place for the time being, but now he wished he would’ve.

During her absence, he didn’t receive any of those dreadful SMS and for the first few days, he was living his life, skipping every single practice day. He did ask you a couple of times whether you wanted to ditch your class and come hang out with him, but he got rejected pretty quickly. Additionally, he rarely asked you out himself so the lack of messages from you wasn’t surprising to him, of course until he heard some of the substitute players comment something about how well you were doing your job as temporary manager.

“So that’s why you were so busy, huh?” he asked in his typical monotone voice the moment you had come back to the bench where he and the coach had taken place. Without sparing him even a single glance you took your clipboard and began explaining something to the older man. Seeing how you ignored him, paired with your cold attitude made Aomine involuntarily remember his captain’s words.

If ya keep that up, then who knows what could happen.

Your conversation with the coach was quickly wrapped up and not soon after just the two of you were left sitting on the bench. Your boyfriend’s deep blue eyes glanced briefly at you and observed how you were writing something in a small pink notebook that most likely belonged to Momoi. He never considered the fact that you would actually lose interest in him or perhaps even break up with him, but your recent behavior change matched exactly that and it scared him more than he let on.

The moment you finished writing and intended to pack everything up, a big hand took a gentle hold of your wrist. Slightly startled and taken aback you looked at the man beside you, who was covering his lower face area as he murmured something that only you managed to hear and understand.

Please don’t go…d-don’t leave me

A small smile slowly adorned your lips as you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, and squeezing it ever so slightly. You figured that the reason he was hiding his face was because of the blush that had painted his cheeks in a shade of dark red. An unusual but very welcome sight as well as a great reward for the plan the entire team had come up with alongside you. The goal? Teaching your lover a small lesson that he’s surely not forgetting that quick.

Mission accomplished…

Murasakibara:

“Hey Atsushi, my friend told me they’d be opening a new store in–“

“Mmm…I don’t wanna go (Y/N)-chin”

You were stunned at the sudden refusal of your boyfriend even before you’d finished your sentence and couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you looked at his slightly annoyed face.

Of course, he’d say that…

And with that prompt rejection, the conversation between you two died down and you wordlessly continued watching the movie you’d put on for tonight, while gently caressing the purple head of the large man who was using your thighs as a pillow.

——

“Eh? You rejected (Y/N)’s invitation again?” asked the black-haired young man while he handed his gigantic friend a tissue for his sticky fingers. With a slightly annoyed glare, Murasakibara snatched the handkerchief from him and hurriedly removed the honey residuals from the snacks he had finished a couple of minutes ago, before answering: “Of course I would…I’m not in the mood to go shopping for hours in this heat.”

The man’s laziness never failed to surprise Himuro everyone who has ever talked to him was aware of his quirks and despite it all, no one has ever left his side. The same goes for you as well. Since the first time you’d seen him, your heart already belonged to him. It was easier to pursue him than you’d expected since his team liked you very much and always helped you out by telling you about his schedule or when he’d come to practice. He was pretty cute once you got to know him better and unbeknownst to you, he had also fallen in love with everything about you. Your smile, the adorable way you tried to follow his basketball practice, the way you panicked when he told you that he didn’t like the type of candy you’d picked out, and everything else about you made his heart thump hard against his chest.

“You know Atsushi…if you keep your indifferent attitude up, your relationship might end pretty soon.”

“W-What do you mean…?”

With a perplexed expression on his face, Himuro took a glance at his friend who had panic written all over him, and reluctantly explained how you could feel neglected by him, or even think of leaving him because he seemingly doesn’t want to spend time with you. The purple-haired young man opened his mouth, wanting to protest but anything he said was immediately rebutted by his friend who told him that he was the wrong person to tell this to, and with that, Murasakibara sprinted out of the room. His destination: your home.

——

You were just out of the shower and preparing yourself to go to bed, when suddenly the doorbell starts ringing furiously, scaring you in the process. With a thumping heart and silent steps, you made your way to your door and took a glance at your peephole, needing less than a second to recognize just who had decided to spontaneously visit you this late at night.

“Atsushi, what are–”

“I’m sorry (Y/N)-chin, please don’t leave me! I-I promise I will go to that store reopening with you a-and to any other event you’d like, I’ll even do it without you having to buy me over with sweets, just–”

Thrown aback as you were, you took a tight hold of Murasakibara’s arms, squeezing them while you screamed at him to hold on and stop talking. Despite your reassuring words it took him a good while to calm down, so you made use of it and prepared some soft drinks, and put a couple of his favorite snacks in a rotating multi bowl set. After putting everything down on the small table in your living room, you got your boyfriend his favorite blanket, covering him with it, and finally sat down next to him.

“Now then, I’m almost afraid to ask you this, but…why are you pleading with me to not leave you?”

With his big and almost puppy-like eyes, he looked at you and asked with a slightly trembling voice: “S-So you really w-want to l-leave me?”

“Heavens no! Who even gave you that idea?”

The moment these few words left your lips, the tension finally left the young man’s body and he slumped back on your couch with a relieved sigh, whispering a silent thank god before massaging his closed eyes. You had never seen your lover being as worried as tonight and you figured that whatever has been bothering him must’ve been quite serious, and that made you in fact even more curious than before. Despite that, you figured you’d wait for him to start his explanation, or at least that was what you’d planned, but after a couple of minutes of nothing but silence, you decided to speak up and reassure him first.

“I’m not quite sure what happened, but it seems like you’re feeling bad for refusing my invite from some days ago, and well…I was kinda disappointed about not being able to go with you there, but I’ve known you for so long now and truth be told, I was prepared for such an answer so I’m not pissed off or anything, you know? You’re just the type of person to prefer staying indoors while lazing around…that’s just how you are and how I love you, so…”

You got embarrassed after a while and the young man’s missing reactions didn’t make it any better, so you eventually stopped mid-sentence and called out to him.

Silence.

“Atsushi…?”

You put your hand on his shoulder and gently shook him, causing his arm with which he was covering his eyes to fall to the side, revealing his slightly puffy eyes and sleeping face.

D-Did he…fall asleep…?

Who would’ve thought that your reassurance alone would have such an impact on him and cause him to fall asleep?

You giggled to yourself and gently caressed some strands of his hair away from his face, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek as you silently wished him a pleasant nap. A few seconds passed during which you contemplated whether you should go to your room or snuggle up to him, you picked the latter and as carefully as possible, leaned your head on his shoulder, closed your eyes, and missed the small smile that adorned Murasakibara’s lips.

Akashi:

Akashi usually isn’t one to get jealous of other people, since he is quite confident that there is no one better suited for you but him. And yet whenever he sees how you talk to Mayuzumi he can’t help but feel a tight pain in his chest and notice how his mood instantly drops. He’d immediately turn away from the sight of the two of you and go somewhere else, preferably the gym where he can either let his frustrations out on the ball or on some of the unmotivated basketball club members. When you were close to him during one of his bad days he was prone to behaving rather rude and harsh and even though he regrets it seconds after opening his mouth he just can’t stop himself. One day though, he truly lost it.

Everything was seemingly going well and then he saw both Mayuzumi and you come in the gym together, hand in hand, laughing, and worst of it all: you were blushing. The red-haired young man watched how his upperclassman helped you sit down on the bench and the way you two looked at each other made the captain feel sick. That’s when a certain thought entered his mind.

What if (Y/N) is planning on breaking up with me for….

While you laughed alongside the older member of the basketball club, you noticed out of the corner of your eyes the way Akashi approached you two and immediately sprung up to calm him down. “S-Sei, please calm yourself down!” you pleaded as you held onto his wrists, but no matter what you said he wasn’t listening, he only had eyes for the man behind you.

Out of desperation you wrapped your arms around the slightly trembling body of your boyfriend and began whispering how nothing was going on between the two of you, how Mayuzumi had only helped you reach the gym since you had sprained your ankle on the way, and how he had teased you for loving the captain too much. As if released from some sort of spell, the young man came back to his senses and returned your embrace in slight confusion. While you were quick to forgive and forget the sudden snap of your boyfriend, the grey-haired man behind you wasn’t in the mood to just forget how the first-year would’ve stabbed him with a ballpen if it weren’t for you. Luckily the other main team members came to calm their teammate down, while you excused yourself, took Akashi by the hand, and went out for a walk to help him calm down.

——

Holding tightly onto your boyfriend’s hand you dragged him off to a more remote area where you could properly talk to each other and resolve any type of doubts that seemed to sprout inside of his already restless mind as a sudden and unexpected whisper caught you off guard. You halted mid-step, turning to the young man behind you, and asked him to repeat what he’d just said.

After a short moment of reluctance, he nodded and did as asked. “I’m sorry for losing myself back there.” His sudden apology caught you quite off guard and made you forget your initial plan. The Akashi you knew rarely showed such enormous remorse for his actions, he might have finally found inner peace with himself and his insecurities, but that didn’t mean that he was now a completely changed man who’d thrown his entire pride away. Not being able to hold back your curiosity, you asked why he felt the need to apologize.

“The way I was ready to lash out at someone older than me, in the same way, I did with Kagami back then was uncalled for…not only that but your expression,” he paused, softly caressing your cheek and continued with a silent voice “that fearful expression you had when you saw me…I-I don’t want to see it ever again.”

Now I get it…

A sad smile adorned your lips as you squeezed his hand tighter. You were secretly thankful for his small outburst right now because it showed you not only that he indeed loved you as much as he usually told you, but also that despite his perfectionism he was very much flawed. He was afraid of losing you and equally afraid of you hating him for expressing these worries. Without saying anything you wrapped your arms around him in a hug and held him tightly as soon as he’d returned your embrace.

“Seijuro…please don’t try to tackle every worry you have on your own. That’s why we are a couple, right? Anything that bothers you, no matter how trivial or serious it is, please share it with me instead of tackling that burden on your own, ok..?”

His sharp yet beautiful eyes looked directly into your own before he leaned his forehead on your shoulder and murmured: “I know, it’s just…I’m still not used to having someone so dependable as you by my side, offering me so much support that I don’t know what to do with it.”

You giggled at his statement and kissed his head, thankful that you had more or less resolved one part of his issues, but more than anything you were happy that from now on he’d involve you more in his worries and problems.

Takao:

Everyone from Shuutoku warned you multiple times that being lovers with Takao would cause you to have severe trust issues and you didn’t believe them at first, but after a couple of weeks, you finally understood their warnings. The lively young man was surprisingly a jokester and tended to take certain things not serious enough for your preference, but since it was a part of his personality, that you’d fallen in love with, you decided to overlook it for the majority of the time.

Usually, his jokes were kinda misplaced and sometimes even more sympathy-inducing than fun, but they never failed to make you crack even the smallest of smiles. But lately, though his jokes started focusing on love and were constantly dealing with the topic of breakup or cheating and it made you quite anxious and hurt that he took these two so lightly without considering your feelings.

Day after day you put up with them until you just couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted him, saying that he should just stop talking for a moment. You were so agitated that you failed to notice his taken aback expression.

“Hey (Y/N)-chan, you do know that I’m just joking, right? There’s no need for you to take it seriously!”

There he goes again with the same excuse…

The young man attempted to take your hand in his, an usual gesture he made every time he upset you, but right now this was the last thing you needed. When his slender fingers brushed yours, you slapped his hand away.

“Not this time Kazu-chan…I’m sorry” you whispered and hurried off, leaving your boyfriend behind who was blown away by your reaction.

——

A few days passed since your little outburst and you’d been avoiding Takao ever since, afraid of being confronted with what you’d told him. You felt bad of course for treating him like that, but you were just not ready to talk to him yet and needed some time to come to terms with your thoughts first.

“What’s with you two always gluing yourselves on me whenever you have some kind of problem?” asked the green-haired young man who you’d forced to stay by your side since then. You responded with a giggle and told him that thanks to his confident behavior and direct words you felt placid and could sort your thoughts in peace. He simply sighed and looked at his lucky item for today, a silver ring with a small green jewel, which he’d once again gotten from his captain, who told him that it was yet another merch of his favorite idol.

“You shouldn’t avoid Takao so much. We both know that he makes jokes to hide away his insecurities and weaknesses and what do you think might happen if he sees us right now?”

He’s…right

You bit your lower lip and slumped forward, leaning your elbows on your thighs as you nodded a couple of times. Nothing good would come out of you brooding over this on your own and having Midorima with you wouldn’t make your little “fight” with Takao just disappear. Seeing you so lost in thought, the young man behind you had an idea, one that he didn’t entirely like, but right now all he wanted was to make you feel better, so he swallowed his pride and handed you the ring.

“Take it…i-it’s not like I’m giving it to you forever s-since it’s not mine and all…b-but Oha Asa said t-that Scorpio might need some k-kind of symbol o-of…love so” he stuttered as he held out his hand, the fragile ring between his bandaged fingers. You were at a loss for words at his gesture and all you could do was whisper out his name in surprise.

“Shin-chan! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Suddenly someone took a hold of your slightly outstretched arm and tugged on it, causing you to stand up and fall against their chest. You looked at the face of the person and it was none other than Takao who was glaring at his friend through glassy eyes. As if bitten by a bug Midorima jumped up and began protecting himself, but all you could focus on was the man who had his arms wrapped tightly around your body. While the two men insulted each other and bickered you realized just how stupid this entire situation was and couldn’t help but smile.

You placed your hand on your boyfriend’s cheek and turned his head, so that he was now facing you, and kissed him, shutting both of them up almost instantly. It took the young man a shot while to return your kiss, but when he did he also took the opportunity to properly embrace you.

“I’m sorry for overreacting Kazu-chan, it’s just that I-”

“No, don’t apologize (Y/N), I know I went too far this time. You know I love you more than anything else in this world and that I’ll never think about leaving you.”

The smile that adorned your lips widened as you nodded energetically and reassured him that your love for him is also one that will most likely last forever.

While you two made up, smiling at each other, the green-haired young man looked at the ring and grinned to himself.

I knew it…Oha Asa is never wrong

#knb imagines #knb scenarios #knb fluff #knb angst #knb x reader #gom and takao x reader #gom x reader #takao x reader #━𝙺𝙽𝙱 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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ofnifflersandkings · 3 years

Text

Token of Affection

Character: Benny Watts

A/n: Had a little bit of a struggle putting this together but I’m quite happy with the outcome. Enjoy!

•

“Stop doing that”

“Doing what?”

You lowered your camera, giving Benny a pointed look, reaching over the coffee table to flick his forehead. “You have to sit still when I’m trying to take your photo.” You pulled your hand back, careful not to knock over the chess set you’d placed in front of him.

Benny twirled the king piece in his hand, leaning his chin in the other while he gave you a wide eyed look. “Now, how on earth am I supposed to do that when I have the world’s loveliest photographer in front of me.”

You rolled your eyes, but Benny noticed you cough to hide a laugh and he smirked. “Regardless, I do have other people to see today. So you need to focus so I can finish up.”

Benny scoffed, watching you poke and prod at various mechanics on your camera. “Who’s more important than me?”

You didn’t even try to conceal your laugh this time while you snapped a photo of his pout, something he often denied doing. “Sorry Bens, I think now might be a good time to tell you that the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

He lifted his hand to his heart and feigned a look of distress. “Hurtful.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard far worse. In fact, I think I’m the one saying them to you.” That got him to laugh, and you noticed his shoulders finally loosen up.

It was funny to watch Benny get into the role of a model. You always thought he was handsome, and the camera agreed. It wasn’t hard to get good shots of him, but you noticed his hands were always incredibly stiff.

He was used to lounging against leather armchairs in tournament rooms, and flittering his arms about when he spoke. But when he had to hold one position long enough for you to get a clear photo.

You saw the focus in his eyes, and you recognized the expression from when he was in a particularly intense set of chess. His lips were pressed together and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. For all of Benny’s self-importance he never knew how to behave in front of cameras. It was part of the reason that he had you do all of his editorials. You were the one person he felt totally comfortable around.

You looked at him with an expression he could only label as sincere fondness, it made his ears feel warm. You let out a hefty sigh, letting your camera hang by the strap around your neck. “You’re thinking too much, this isn’t a chess game.” You lightly ran your fingers overs his, forcing him to slacken his hand with the new weight.

“Relax.” You instructed, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards when you felt the cold metal of his chess ring.

Benny faltered for a second, but his surprise at your gentle tone he relaxed enough for you to get the photo you wanted.

You took a handful more shots just so you’d have a selection to let him and the magazine choose from. “That should do it,” You said, slipping off your camera strap. “You’re free.”

Benny immediately slouched, dramatically dropping his king piece and flopping onto his side. “Come here” He held out his arms to you, “I think we’ve earned a nap.”

You sighed, after two hours the offer was tempting, even on his awful apartment floor. “Afraid not today, Bens. I have to get my travel stuff in order today. I have to do a shoot for Dior’s winter collection.”

“They’re not dragging you to Paris again, are they? That’s the second time this year,” He said, the continued talk of your departure making him grumpy. Benny wasn’t used to not having you around, and when your work got noticed more it felt like you were around less and less.

“Oui.” You said, hoping it would make him laugh, but your joke did little to lift his spirits.

Make no mistake, he was beyond happy you were getting the credit and recognition you deserved. And he felt an insurmountable amount of pride knowing his photos were your first showstoppers. But if he had his way, you’d be in New York all the time.

“Only for two weeks this time,” You consoled, packing up your equipment and shuffling around the coffee table to lean against him. “And then I’ll take some more local jobs to see you.”

Benny hummed, knowing he wasn’t in any particular position to change your mind. His feelings for you were complicated and his arrogance often got in the way of any real revelations on just how deeply he cared for you.

“Well,” He huffed, the loose blond hairs on his forehead flying up on his head. “At least I can give you a bon voyage gift this time.”

You slightly jerked your arm against his side. “You know I hate it when you buy me things.”

He grinned, shifting around beside you so he was resting on his knees. “I didn’t buy it,” Benny laughed at your confused expression. “Just close your eyes.”

You looked at him for a few seconds and then did as you were told. When he instructed you to open them again he was holding two closed fists in front of you.

“Pick one.”

“Benny-“

“I’m trying to be sentimental, just pick one before I change my mind.”

You smiled, and reached out to tap his left fist but when he dramatically shook his head you tapped the other one.

He opened his fist and when his hand was empty, he laughed at your unamused expression.

“Gotcha.”

You were about to make another smartass comment but his other fist opening and revealing his chess ring stopped any words from leaving your mouth.

“I want you to keep this, so you don’t go forgetting about me when you met all those dashing frenchmen.” Benny teased, holding the ring out to you.

“You earned that, I can’t take it”

“And I’ll win a dozen more, but this one is for you. Now, take it before you hurt my feelings.” Benny took your one hand and slipped it on before you could say anything else.

You looked down at and gave it a few twirls on your finger. “I’ll keep it safe, don’t worry.”

Benny leaned over and gave you a kiss on your head, resting against you while he took in the scent of your perfume.

“I know you will.”

#dumb titles: my signature #kinda short but I think its sweet #I literally don't even know if that rings a trophy or like a club thing but like don't worryabout #tried to do some symbolism here with it you tell me if I failed or not\#I love him so much he's such a bastard #put on a Dior documentary to get into the 60s mood that's why I mentioned her #now all I'm thinking about is a benny darkroom scenario #anyways #benny watts imagine #benny watts imagines #queens gambit imagine #queens gambit imagines #the queens gambit imagine #the queen’s gambit #benny watts #benny watts x reader

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

Text

‘ ‘ chapter | 01 ’ ’

complex desires. ( prologue ) ( masterlist )

SUMMARY: It’s the first week of classes after winter break, but you’re not exactly used to seeing new faces - teachers and students in between.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentions of mental disorders, anxious thoughts, anxiety attack

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

NOTES: i’m currently writing this chapter while drinking a big ass mug of hot cocoa. also, hunter’s pronouns are they/them! this series is one i’m most excited for. hope you kiddies enjoy <3

It was still early when the clouds gave off their rain to the grass and trees, when the road became alive with more splashes than your eyes could appreciate. Yet together they brought such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum. You felt each splash that touched your skin, watching as your cardigan become a deeper, more rocky hue. It was as if earlier the street had been a matte photograph, only to be washed as glossy as any magazine page.

Each raindrop is a kaleidoscope, if people could only see more closely. You wonder as you walk how it would be to stop time, to suspend this watery gift and peek through each one. Perhaps it would be fun to sit inside those raindrops and take that gravity propelled ride to the earth, as you imagine it you feel your inner self laughing – a little at the crazy daydream and a little at your own silliness. You see the rain beads upon the cars, upon each leaf and washing your outstretched fingers. Soon they will pull together, forming the puddles, opening up a whole new avenue of rain-related fun. Perhaps it isn't normal to love a rainy day so much, but who cares about normal anyway? You’re pretty sure "normal" is a made up thing.

Upon the umbrella come the playful sounds of dancing drops, and from it's rim comes the sight of their more relaxed cousins, dripping as if their soul purpose was to bring a sense of ease and calm to the day. And as the rain became more intense, it began to soak the bottom of each dark blue jean leg, deepening the denim to a stronger hue, bringing your brown boots to a glossy water-shine, becoming a kind of natural cocoon.

Each raindrop is a doorway into nature's heart, an invitation of sorts, a request for your soul to rejoin creation. In the rain there is a serenity, a sense of peace that offers to resonate with the peaceful elements of the soul. Walking among those drops is your meditation, a way to fully become present in the moment, a way to feel free.

There was a vibration coming to life in the back pocket of your jeans, cutting you out of your peaceful daydream in the rain. You stepped to the side to allow a cyclist to pass by and gave him a brief smile when he nodded his head in thanks. When you pulled out your phone to read the contact, you instantly smiled when seeing Mickey’s name on the screen.

“Okay, first off, hello. Second off, where the hell are you? Me and Hunter – okaayy – Hunter and I have been in the cafeteria since 7:15 in the goddamn morning,” she immediately went off as soon as you put the phone to your ear. “Also, did you take your meds today? My alarm went off as a reminder.”

“First off, hi back, Mick. Second off, it’s been 15 minutes and I’m five minutes away from the school. It’s fine if we don’t have breakfast today just once,” you laughed as you heard her scoff. “And thirdly, yes mom, I did take my meds. I actually have to get another refill for my BPD meds. Thank you for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, you better hurry. We have the last of your favorite yogurt and Hunter’s close to eating the damn thing,” you heard Mickey laugh as she shushes her significant other. “Also, be careful coming around the usual entrance. The school is doing some bogus construction to add a statue of the principal.”

“You’re shitting me!” You exclaimed, earning a dirty glare from a tiny senior citizen as she slowly walks passed you with her small cane. “What the hell did this prick do to earn that? Also, can you grab me a fruit cup too? I’ve been craving kiwi’s for some odd reason.”

“Well, he’s wicked rich and can basically do anything in this school and get away with it, literally. And there’s no fruit cups today, but there’s a bag of sliced apples and tangerine slices,” Mickey told you as she huffed, which you assume is her getting out of her seat to go back to the assortment of breakfast foods. “Ooh, there’s bagels too. I think they just added these.”

“Jesus Christ, this statue is stupid as hell,” you groaned and stood in front of the half built statue, your principal’s name on a gold plated plaque attached to the marble. “This guy really needs an ego boost, huh? And just tangerine slices then. I’m heading inside.”

“Alright, see you soon, baby doll.” She annoyingly kisses into the phone as you snorted and rolled your eyes at her antics.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you stood outside the entrance doors and shook the leftover raindrops from your yellow umbrella before closing it. You inhaled the fresh rain water for one last time before grasping onto the freezing cold and disgustingly wet doorknob and pulling it open to head inside. There was a small litter of students here and there; some reading new announcements on the bulletin board in the main hall; some sitting in the lounging chairs with laptops or textbooks open on their laps; some sitting on the ground with a half empty bottle of water beside their laps and phones in their hands, headphones in their ears. You terribly, annoyingly, and oddly missed this. You missed the bustle of students laughing and running down the halls. You missed it all, even if it has been two weeks.

You hear loud chatter coming from just ahead, so you know you’re about to enter the cafeteria area. Just as you’re about to do so, you stop in your tracks in front of a bulletin board. There were a few posters for new clubs, as well as study groups, upcoming announcements, room changes, and more. But one that really struck out to you was a new story writing group, specifically for writers or English majors. You felt a burst of excitement spread throughout your chest and settle into the pit of your stomach. You made sure to take a quick photo of the sheet beforr moving on into the cafeteria.

Almost immediately, you spotted Hunters straight platinum blonde hair and fiery streaks on one side while the other was icy blue. Sitting in front of them was Mickey, her hair curly and unruly, making you wonder if she rolled out of bed, threw some clothes on, and called it a day. You felt your cheek mucles twitch as your lips pulled up into a bright smile. Hunter was the first to notice you. They looked up at you passed Mickey’s shoulder and smiled so brightly that it made you reciprocate. They adorned bright orange eyeshadow with white eyeliner, making their eyes pop out even more. You loved how they didn’t cake on makeup, they kept it simple, yet so drop dead gorgeous.

“There she is, the man of the hour,” they announced and got up from their seat to pull you in for a warm, tight hug. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry for not messaging you the entire break. We didn’t have any service whatsoever.” There was a crestfallen look on Hunter’s face and you held their cheeks so they wouldn’t look away.

“Look at me, don’t stress about it, okay? Did you at least have fun?” They nodded with a pout. You grinned and gave their forehead a kiss before pulling them in for another hug.

“Okay, first you’re late. And now you’re stealing my person. I see how it is,” Mickey smirked as you gave her the bird behind Hunter’s back as you both pulled away from the hug. “Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Michelle,” you responded in the same tone as you sat in an empty chair around the table. “Give me my tangerine, please.” She passed you the small cup of tangerine slices with a grin when you began eating them.

“You been eating three times a day?” She asked you, looking at you through her mane of curls rather than pushing her hair away. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the half empty cup in your hands. “Y/N..”

“I’m doing it little by little, Mick. And I’m starting to drink water too,” you blushed and laughed softly when her and Hunter began praising you. Praise was something you weren’t used to, but hearing it every now and then really gave you butterflies. “It’s nothing..”

“Are you kidding me?” Hunter laughed and reached over to lay a hand over yours. “This is amazing. This is progress and we’re both so very proud of you.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Mickey lightly bumped your shoulder with her knuckles as Hunter pulled away. “You should do a meal plan like I did when I had to get my weight back up, so that way you don’t forget to eat three times a day.”

“I don’t know.. I don’t exactly have the funds to buy a lot of groceries. I had to use over $100 of my food stamps cause almost everything in my kitchen was old,” you huffed and popped another tangerine slice into your mouth. “Plus, I’ve been busy with finding a job and paying for my therapy appointments and doing school work, and it’s all so fucking overwhelming.”

The first bell rang, signaling students to begin their walk to class with only a few more minutes to spare. You grabbed your shoulder bag and stood beside Mickey while she held onto Hunter’s hand. The three of you passed by a swarm of students; freshman’s and sophomores running by to get to the lecture halls early; juniors having their books and laptops already out and pressed to their chests; seniors loitering in the halls with their friends. Thankfully, you, Hunter, and Mickey had your first English class together.

“How about this?” Mickey began. “Hunter and I will help pay for your groceries.” She hushed you as you began to lightly protest. “Listen, you already got a lot on your plate. I’d be a really shitty best friend if I allowed you to deal with all that. So every week, we’re gonna swing by your place to drop off some stuff, okay? I’ll create a meal plan for you with your favorites, so that way we’re taking that worry for money off your back.”

“Mick, you don’t have to do that for me. Like I said, I’ll find a way,” you mumbled and shrugged as you walked up the long staircase to head up to the lecture halls. “I couldn’t do that to you guys.”

“Y/N,” Hunter stopped you three in the middle of the hallway. “We care about you and we don’t want you going down that negative route alone. We both have jobs and enough money to cover Mickey and I, and it’ll seriously make me the happiest if you let us do this, please.”

“Two more minutes until class begins,” the voiceover on the speaker spoke.

“Fine,” you sighed, feeling a smile pull your lips as you all continued walking to the English room. “I love you both. And I’m very grateful for you to do this for me.”

“We know,” Mickey told you as she kissed your cheek obnoxiously, causing you to groan and Hunter to laugh. “But in all seriousness, don’t be a stranger to asking, okay?”

You nodded and gave her a reassuring smile as you made your up the steps to your seats in the bottom middle row. Mickey sat in between you and Hunter as more students filled the class. There was light chatter and soft clatter as seats were pulled down and the folding desks were pulled up. You set your bag between your feet, being cautious of not getting it dirty from your boots. Pulling out your spiral notebook that had four sections, you neatly wrote the course name, your name, and the date. Nervously clicking your pen, you tried to block out the noise that had started to get a little too loud. Nibbling on your bottom lip to distract yourself, your feet began tapping on its own while you tapped your pen on your book. Mickey and Hunter were having a conversation of their own, so they didn’t notice the early signs of a small anxiety attack.

An invisible hand clasps over your mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces your heart, unloading in an instant. You feel your ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate your lungs. Your head is a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing your mind into blackness. You want to run; you need to freeze. Sounds that were near feel far away, like you’re no longer in the body that sits paralyzed in the cold seat. Your breath comes out in rapid, shallow breaths as you shake your head at yourself.

“No, no, no,” you harshly whisper as your bobbing knee gets almost frantic.

You felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in your abdomen. Tension grew your her face and limbs, your mind replaying the last attack. You held onto the sides of your head, your elbows digging into the hardness of your desk. Your only movement was the trembling of your limbs and salty tears darkening your sleeves. There you stayed, unaware of the numerous eyes watching you until Mickey turned and noticed your frantic state.

“Shit,” she hissed and slung her arm across your desk as the other wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m here, Y/N. It’s okay.. sshhh.. I’m right here.” She noticed a few students staring, to which she narrowed her eyes and snarled, “What the fuck are you looking at, dipshits?!” They immediately looked away after being caught. She turned her attention back on you. “What’s going on, huh?” Her voice was soft and soothing as she smoothed her hand down your hair.

“It-It’s so.. loud,” you hiccuped and covered your face even more when a sob escaped your lips, spit flying onto your hands as you felt your neck, cheeks, and ears heat up out of embarrassment and shame. “I can’t stop it, Mick. I-I can’t!”

Hunter sat on the other side of you, reaching down to get your back, shuffling their hand inside to pull out your earplugs and inhaler. They handed the earplugs fo Mickey while pressing the opening of the inhaler to your lips. “Come on, babe,” they quietly told you and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ears, lightly blowing on your flushed skin to cool it down. “There we go,” they gently said when you took two deep puffs of your inhaler while Mickey made sure your earplugs were snug inside your ears. You felt your lungs open up as the cold, bitter medicine settled on your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and shook your head, wiping away the last of your tears. You sniffled and looked at Mickey and Hunter. “I-I don’t know what happened.. it just... happened.”

“It’s always unexplained, but don’t be sorry for something you can’t control, okay?” Mickey told you firmly while making sure you were looking into her eyes. “This doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Hunter smiled and sat your bag back between your feet before moving to their seat next to Mickey. All the students had settled down, their conversations now a quiet murmur. You felt relieved as you pulled your earplugs out and slid them inside your protective case, making sure the lid was closed tight before shoving it into your bag. Mickey kept an eye on you the entire time, making sure no one triggered you. She sat with an elbow resting on the back her chair with her legs lightly spread.

“You’re man-spreading,” you quietly told her, laughing quietly when she flipped you off.

Suddenly, the metal doors opened and a man hurriedly walks in with an expensive looking leather messenger back over his shoulder. Your lips parted and you sat up straight in your seat when he gave the class a guilty smile. You’ve never seen him in the school. Not even before break. He must’ve been in a different department and just got transferred to the English center. He deeply intrigued you. You noticed the other girls in the class twirling their hair in a cliché way with the tips of their pens between their teeth. He wore all black, and it was so very different compared to what other professors wore. There was no sweater vest or button up shirt. He just wore a comfortable and soft looking black sweater with black jeans and black boots. His dirty blonde - almost brunette - hair was perfectly styled. He looked devastatingly handsome.

“Hello, my name is Professor Shepherd and I’m going to be your English teacher for the rest of the semester. Professor Winifred recently had her baby during winter break and shall be back for the next semester,” he gave another knee-weakening grin as he clapped his hands together. “Shall we get started?”

#AAAHHHH FIRST CHAPTER IS OUT!!!#we’re just getting started 😏#duncan shepherd x reader #bill skarsgård x reader #professor!bill #professor!duncan #love triangle #complex desires series

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lifblogs · 3 years

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#SPNAdventCalendar2020 | Day 19: Photographs | @bend-me-shape-me

READ ON AO3

(sorry I’m late)

This was something Castiel hadn’t told his family. He wasn’t completely sure why, but that’s how it was. He sat in his sparse room in the bunker. All he really had in there were the bare essentials. He hadn’t truly made it his own. Not because the bunker wasn’t his home or anything stupid like that. It was his home, one-hundred percent.

Yet, he usually stayed in Dean’s room. He usually cuddled in the bed with him, sat on the couch with him and watched TV on the new flatscreen he’d gotten. Or he’d simply sit and watch him sleep. Dean said it was creepy, yet Cas couldn’t help himself. Did Dean not see the beauty of sleep? The way the mind tried to make sense of the day and communicate its feelings and needs? The way falling into the deep depths of that cozy darkness was helped him? Of course, there was no way Dean would know about the way his face relaxed, and his crow’s feet, and lines from stress were barely noticeable. He was just… Dean. He wasn’t a hunter, or the Michael sword, or the righteous man, or even a killer. In those moments of sleep, all Castiel saw was the Dean that he wanted everyone else to see as well; the soft, sweet man he was.

Dean’s room was Castiel’s room for all intents and purposes.

Yet Castiel was in the room they’d designated as his because what he was doing now was his own special thing. It had started with Dean buying a disposable camera on one of their hunts. They’d been to Newport, a pretty interesting tourist attraction that featured small cruises, and buildings that jutted out into the ocean. Dean had bought the camera at a stand that was also selling novelty T-shirts. He took pictures of Cas, pictures of Sam, pictures of Jack. Castiel had gotten into the spirit of it immediately, and had taken “selfies” with all his family members, even as one big group.

Then, Dean had left the camera in the motel room. Castiel was glad that it was a habit of his to go through Dean’s stuff, and that it was with Dean’s permission.

The camera hadn’t been there.

So he’d searched their motel room before leaving, and there it was, under the bed, having been knocked over.

When they got home to Lebanon, Castiel went out to a different town to get the pictures developed. Some were blurry, some were shaky, others were smudged and bright because of the sun.

Castiel saved every good one there was, and even one of the shaky ones because it was of him and Dean kissing, and Sam and Jack making comical, yet disgusted faces in the background.

After, Castiel secretly took pictures on his phone. He would pretend to text, and would sometimes even send Dean emojis while amidst taking the pictures, just to “cover his ass,” as his boyfriend would say.

He took pictures of his family. Pictures of Jack, pictures of Jody and the girls.

He printed out every on, even had them developed into special prints like an actual photograph from a real camera.

Then, he’d started his scrapbook. His scrapbooking skills weren’t anything to brag about. The book was bound in dark brown leather, and the pages were made to look like parchment, all the while remaining smooth so the pictures would stick to them.

Castiel had tried organizing them, writing down what hunt the pictures were from, the date, where they’d been.

The pictures had piled up more and more and he could barely keep up.

Now, he sat before his desk, scrapbook open. There was only one page left, and Castiel didn’t have a picture for it.

Dean knocked.

Castiel tried to hide the scrapbook, hastily putting it back in the drawer, and then turning around.

“Uh, come in!” he called.

“Hey, Cas, so I was thinking…” Dean began as he came in. He surely noticed the tension in Cas’ shoulders, the awkward way he was sitting, the bare desk. “Uh… Cas? What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Dean began to nod, smiling like a teenage boy who had just been asked out on a date for the first time.

“You’re looking at vintage gay porn, aren’t you?”

The magazines Dean was referring to had been found in one of the rooms in the bunker. In the fifties, gay men had had to be discreet about their intersests, hence they’d hidden the downright sexual content by calling the magazines sports magazines for men. Dean had tried getting Castiel to look at it, but Cas had just been watching Dean the entire time.

Cas sighed. “You know I don’t care for that.”

“Porn on your phone? Two guys getting down and dirty?”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Three guys?”

He turned back to face his desk. “Why is everything about sex with you?”

“Sorry,” Dean said with a shrug. He came over behind Cas, and leaned down, wrapping an arm around his collarbones. He kissed him on the top of his head. “Guess I’m in a weird mood. So what were you doing?”

Castiel relented. He took out the scrapbook. Dean reached over him, snatching it from his hands, and then he went and sat on the desk.

Dean flipped through it, Cas sitting there with tension hot in his gut. Then, of all things, Dean began to smile. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Not knowing what to do, Castiel just put a hand on his knee.

“Cas,” Dean began, voice low and choked up, “this is beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Finally, he got to the last page, and saw it was blank. “You got anything to put here?” Dean asked.

“Not just yet.”

“Then I guess the two of us will just have to go on an adventure.” He closed the scrapbook, got off the desk, and held out his hand to him. “Come on.”

Castiel took his hand, smiling, and then they were off on another adventure, just the two of them.

Tag list: @thenightwolf732, @evilwriter37

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 #Day 19: Photographs #Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #spn #Supernatural #Supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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crashdevlin · 4 years

Text

Centerfold 4- Memory’s Been Sold

Centerfold Masterlist

Author’s Note: Written for Meghan who requested some fluffy A/B/O smut and then I came up with an idea and ran with it. Smut will start after the plot is established. Also, this is gonna go toward my @spnabobingo squares. This chapter fills my Slutty Omega square and is rated E for Explicit.

Summary: Dean is living the normal-boring life with Lisa. When he opens the newest Playboy, he gets the shock of his life.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Beta!Lisa, Alpha!Dean x Reader (memory)

Word count: 2083

Story Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! , masturbation, pornography, mentions of multiple partners, mentions of fem-fem porn

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Dean pulled his pickup into the gas station down the street from Lisa’s house...his house. He had a house. He had a home, a family, an 8-5 job on a construction crew. He had...a real life. A real boring life. He was bored, but he supposed it was normal to feel bored, right?

“Hey, Jerry. The coffee fresh?” Dean asked as he walked into the convenience store.

“Half hour old,” the clerk, Jerry, answered with a smile. “And, uh, it’s Tuesday!”

Dean chuckled as he grabbed a thick paper cup and poured dark, bitter liquid into it. “New mags came in, huh?”

“Yeah. The Penthouse center is hot as hell, man. Oh, and the Playmate of the Month is the hottest omega I’ve ever fuckin’ seen!”

Dean laughed as he fitted the top on the cup. “Well, bring ‘em out, man. You know I’m gonna buy ‘em.” He took a drink as he walked up to the counter. Jerry had a Penthouse and a Playboy on the counter already. “They’re that good, huh?”

“Dude...especially the omega Playmate, man. She is smoking hot.”

Dean set the coffee on the counter and picked up the Playboy, slipping it out of the sleeve and looking at the cover. The cover was a woman, Taffy Rose according to the tiny script on the bottom next to the photographer credit, in a strawberry-print bikini and bunny mask. Hot, but nothing special. Nothing different or new. But he flipped the magazine open to the center and gasped.

“Holy shit.” The bunny mask was gone, her body on full display except the bits of skin hidden by the pink feather boa. His throat went dry. His cock got hard in jeans. His head felt like it might explode.

“I know, right?!” Jerry exclaimed, happily. “Isn’t she the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he focused on her neck. No mark. He hoped they hadn’t photoshopped one out. She was the hottest thing he’d ever touched, tasted, the best thing he’d ever missed out on...Taffy Rose, Y/n Y/l/n...his omega. Dean cleared his throat and tried to close the magazine, but he couldn’t. She’d grown up so beautiful and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “She, uh...she been in anything I might’ve seen?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I’m Googling her name as soon as I get home. I suggest you do the same, man.”

“Yeah. Uh...I’m just gonna...I’m just gonna take the Playboy. I’ll get the Penthouse next time, Jer.” Dean threw a ten on the counter and walked out with the magazine, leaving his coffee behind and not even caring. He sat in his truck cab for a few minutes, staring at her photo. Y/n went into porn. Whoever would have thought that sweet little innocent young woman with the overprotective parents would- “Actually, no, that makes sense.”

He rubbed his hand over his erection as he looked at the ‘fuck me’ look in her eyes. It didn’t take long for his mind to drift back to her under him, holding him, letting out gasping cries as he fucked her, that look in her eyes as she dug her nails into his shoulders.

His cock softened as he remembered getting on the phone with her to tell her he was leaving.

He felt like he was going to cry when the line clicked. “Y/l/n Residence!”

“Y/n, it’s Dean.”

“Oh, hey! I just got finished washing every surface you touched,” she said, giggling. That giggle tugged at his heart. “I can’t wait to see you again, though. It was so worth the cleaning time.”

“Yeah, uh...it was awesome, baby, but...my, uh, my dad called.”

“Oh?” Dean could almost hear the heartbreak in her voice.

“Yeah. He...got word of a job in Connecticut. He’s pickin’ us up tomorrow.” There was silence on the line for a minute. “Y/n?”

“You’re leaving?” she squeaked.

“Yeah.” Dean had to fight the tears. “Yeah, we’re leaving.”

“But...what about...I...am I gonna get to see you again at all?”

“Not unless you can sneak out tonight. Dad’ll be here in the morning. We’ll be gone before noon.”

“Oh God.”

Dean took a deep breath and started the truck, driving home with a pit in his stomach. He immediately hid the magazine in his desk and sat in the rolling desk chair. He looked around to make sure Lisa and Ben were both out of the den area, hoping they were out of the house, before pulling up Google and searching for ‘Taffy Rose omega xxx’. Several thousand results popped up, so Dean went to the first. A video on Pornhub labeled ‘Sweet omega Taffy seduces her best friend Kat at a sleepover’. Dean swallowed and licked his lips, turning his volume down almost all the way and clicking on the video. She looked fairly innocent, without looking fake, which was a feat of its own considering he knew he was watching porn. The other actress wasn’t pulling it off anywhere near as well, especially the overacted reaction to ‘Taffy’ kissing her.

Dean could remember making out with her when she was just a little younger than the 18 year old she was pretending to be on his screen and it filled him with yearning to see her wrap her arms around this other woman’s neck and pull her in for a passionate kiss. He watched a little longer before hitting the back button and started searching through more and more results.

‘Omega Taffy Rose and her hot omega stepmom’ ‘Taffy Rose fucks her best friends’ ‘Sunny Sweets and Taffy Rose Turth or dare’ ‘Batgirl and Supergirl caught by Poison Ivy’

“Holy shit, she’s the hottest Supergirl,” Dean whispered, as he pulled his dick out of his jeans and started pumping it. It occurred to him, as he lazily jacked off and clicked through the ‘Taffy Rose’ tag on XNXX .com, that she was always with other women, usually other omegas. It took him forty minutes of clicking to find ‘Beta Brad Bull wants to know what omega tastes like’.

Not a single alpha in any of her videos, and not a mark on her neck, despite the fact that so many of her omega co-stars had marks that they had failed to cover no matter the makeup they used. And Brad and Taffy didn't go further than oral.

"That's weird," Dean whispered, tucking his dick back into his boxers but leaving the jeans open in a V. "Usually 'mega actresses are getting knotted every other scene."

He clicked off of the porn site and went back to Google, searching 'Taffy Rose alpha'. He found several blogs asking why a porn actress was unmated, some wondering how she could be in this business without fear of being taken by force, and some judging her for doing porn in the first place, but eventually he found an interview with her. He turned up the volume a bit and started it.

"Taffy, you have just burst on the scene and you've been staring in so many films this past year, it's crazy how popular you are all of a sudden!"

"Yeah, it is. I mean, I just started this as a fun way to make some money and now it's a full-on career!" Dean gasped at her voice. It was deeper than he remembered, seasoned with age, but that giggle at the end was exactly the same. That giggle made his heart hurt.

"Well, as long as you're having fun, right?"

"Exactly!"

"Now, I've noticed, and I'm not the only one, that you seem to favor lesbian scenes. Is that a personal preference, a reference to your actual sexuality, or-"

"Oh, no! I love guys. I live for cock, but…” Dean’s dick twitched at that. Why did her voice sound so musical...especially saying something so filthy? “I don't fuck alphas and there's a lot more work for an omega willing to fuck another omega than an omega willing to fuck a beta."

"Now, why don't you fuck alphas? It would seem a natural thing for you, right?"

She looked down, a bit of the bashful teen girl showing on her face. "Um...I just...it's dangerous, since I'm not mated...and it's special, ya know?” She bit her bottom lip and looked back up and Dean’s jaw dropped. “I may be a slut, but I can't fuck some random alpha and take his knot. I've never taken a knot and...probably never will."

"Fuck, I'd give anything to have you on my knot, Y/n," Dean whispered as the door opened and Lisa and Ben entered. Dean scrambled to exit out of the browser and cover the open jeans with his t-shirt. Reality crashed down on him. There was his family. There was his beta girlfriend and her son...his boy whether by blood or not. “H-hey, honey. How was work?”

“It was good. How was your day, Dean?” she asked, walking over to the desk in the den.

“It was-it was a day,” he answered, tilting his head to allow her to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” Lisa asked, pulling open the half-closed desk drawer. She gasped and slammed the drawer closed when she saw the magazine. “I cannot believe you!” she snapped.

“Come on, Lees, it’s just a Playboy,” Dean defended.

“‘Just a Playboy’? Dean, you’re living with a teen boy now! You can’t have this stuff! You can’t expose him to-”

Dean scoffed and stood, looking down into her eyes. “Lisa, I promise you that boy knows about porn and knows how to find the good stuff online. My Playboy is probably too tame for him.”

“How dare you? Ben would never-”

“Yeah? Check his browser history.” Dean rolled his eyes and stepped around her, walking out of the house and to the garage. He grabbed the cover and pulled it up just enough to open the door and climb into the front seat of the Impala. He took a minute to let a wave of nostalgia roll over him at the feel and smell of his baby before he settled back, legs kicked out and jeans shimmied down enough to pull his cock out.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his fingers around his base. He could see Y/n in his mind. He could hear her laugh. He could see her smile, the way her eyes lit up when he said her name. He started moving his hand up and down his length as he remembered the way Y/n looked at him the first time he sunk his dick into her.

He ran his thumb across the head and gasped as he remembered her digging her nails into his shoulder muscles, how innocent she sounded when she said ‘I think you can go faster’, the way she whimpered with every thrust, the way she wrapped her legs around his waist and babbled his name, the way she whispered ‘harder’ and thanked him when he grabbed her white wood headboard and started pounding into her like the alpha he was. He wanted nothing more than to knot her, but she couldn’t take it.

She could take it now. He wanted to fill her and knot her and make her scream. He wanted to hear her moan and giggle and gasp and-

His breath caught as cum shot out of his cock, splashing over his hand. He gasped in a breath before another stream of semen left him. “Fuck.” Dean fucked himself through his climax until there was absolutely nothing left for him to give and then he slumped into the leather.

He was suddenly filled with despair. He found her. His omega, the one that got away, the one woman his mind returned to in quiet moments. He found her, but she was in the San Fernando Valley in California and he was in Cicero...with Lisa and her boring, normal life. Lisa and her son that she coddled. Beta Lisa that sent him away when he went into rut, who would never be able to take a knot. He loved that Lisa took him in, nursed him back from the brink of breakdown, but the yearning he had pushed down since he was sixteen years old was now back with a burning vengeance.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

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The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala

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#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!dean #omega!reader #lisa braeden #pining #pornstar!reader

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

Note

For the AU request, whichever one(s) you prefer (for RenRuki of course):

the X-Men universe

the Mafia/criminal underworld

the circus

as FBI agents (the X-Files world perhaps)

So, I got this ask, and I immediately wanted to go for X-Files, because I was hugely into X-Files when I was a tween/teen, and I think that my actual first published work of fanfic on the internet might actually be X-Files. (I didn’t even post it myself, I was like 12 and I didn’t have the internet at home, but a friend of mine posted it on Usenet for me, I have no idea whatever became of it). Anyway, I was going back and forth in my head who I wanted to be Mulder and who I wanted to be Scully, and then I got this ask:

@ulkoilla said:

I though the 10 would be full in about 1 microsecond so I didn’t even try :D This is maybe not AU enough for the purpose but I'd love to see your take on Bleach world where the shinigami work among humans as if they were in gigai -> they'll have to balance the supernatural, perhaps violent elements of their life with the modern day laws and such (like in Supernatural). Renji and Rukia have ofc gotten in trouble with the non-supernatural law (meet: Detective!Aizen?) and are on the run…

It suddenly occurred to me, What If: X-Files World, but Renruki are the cryptids. And it suddenly popped into my head exactly who I wanted to be Mulder. Anyway, I am sorry missrambler, if I messed it all up, I hope you like it anyway.

Also, I somehow thought that I would save myself some trouble by combining two prompts, but then it ended up… really long. (Forty! Eight! Hundred! Words! Go to Talks-Too-Much-Jail, Polynya!!)

PS: This takes place in D.C. because it’s X-Files and also because I am familiar with D.C. and I never get to write about places I know about. A half-smoke is a local delicacy that’s halfway between a hot dog and an Italian sausage. They are delicious.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

👻 👻 👻

Ichigo Kurosaki had known that an office with a view of the Smithsonian might be too much to ask, but he had not expected to take have to take two separate elevators down to sub-basement C, and walk past a storage room, two broom closets and a weird old vending machine full of brands of snacks he swore he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

Maybe Agent Inoue has a huge lab, he told himself. Maybe it needs to be 50 meters below ground because she collides large hadrons down here or so that her work can’t be picked up by spy satellites.

He had to turn sideways to get past a rack of wire shelves full of banker’s boxes, but there, on the other side was a door sporting a handwritten cardboard nameplate reading “Special Agent Orihime Inoue.”

“Come in!” a voice called inside, just as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Ichigo blinked twice, and then went in.

The office was cluttered, mostly with more cardboard boxes, but books were also stacked precariously on top of boxes on top of books. The walls were plastered with maps and graphs and photographs of hazy blurs in front of staircases. There was a large poster showing a UFO, with the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” in block caps below it.

A woman with long chestnut hair twisted up into a bun and held in place with three pencils was hunched over a metal box full of diodes and transistors and other things you would buy at Radio Shack. Or rather, that other people would buy at a Radio Shack. Ichigo had never set foot in a Radio Shack in his life.

“Er, good morning,” Ichigo said, as the woman looked up and blinked at him owlishly. “Agent Inoue? I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“To spy on me, you mean,” Agent Inoue corrected, cheerfully shaking his hand with great vigor.

Ichigo bristled. Yes, he had been directed to ‘provide additional documentation on Agent Inoue’s activities,’ but that hardly counted as spying. She was known to be somewhat scatterbrained, and having an organized person around would probably be a great benefit to her. “If you have any doubts about my qualifications or motivations--”

“Oh, don’t take it personally!” Inoue replied, slotting a lid onto her electronics project, and attacking it vigorously with a jeweler’s screwdriver. “Just because you’re a spy doesn’t mean you aren’t a nice person. Also, I read your file, you have a very interesting background! Degree in literature with a focus on folk legends. Teaching at the academy for the last few years while working on your book.” She took a momentary break from her screwing to fix him with her big, soft brown eyes. “Tell me, Agent Kurosaki, what do you think happens after you die?”

Ichigo froze. “I would be buried? Maybe there would be a funeral first?”

Inoue started laughing so hard that Ichigo was sure he caught a tiny, adorable snort. “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t clear!” She sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Do you believe in continued existence after the death of the body? An afterlife, religion-based or otherwise? The existence of ectoplasm, cold spots, spirit photographs, EVP?”

“Are you talking about… ghosts?” Ichigo asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” Orihime replied with a nod. “Ghosts.”

“We-elll…” Ichigo drew out. “I believe that people believe they observe certain phenomena, as part of the cycle of grief and--”

“Just say ‘no’ if you don’t,” Inoue interrupted him.

“Er, no. I don’t.”

“That’s okay. Are you good at carrying heavy things?”

“Am I... I guess?”

“Perfect!” She shoved the box into his arms, and Ichigo’s knees almost buckled under the weight. “Let’s walk and talk, I want to go get a reading over near Franklin Square before 9 am. We’re gonna pass a really good half-smoke cart on the way, do you like half-smokes?”

👻 👻 👻

“Take a look at this,” Inoue said, her cheek half stuffed with sausage, jabbing a finger at the LED read-out of her mysterious box.

It was rather hard for Ichigo to see, because he was holding the box and the readout was on the other side, but he did his best to crane his neck around. “What am I looking at? The squiggles? I’m sorry, it looks like nothing to me.”

“Exactly right!” Inoue announced, waving her half smoke in the air. “Not a sniff of spiritual residue!”

Ichigo pressed his lips together. “Um… is that good?”

“It is interesting,” Inoue corrected. “Five days ago, a sixty-four year old woman had a heart attack while sitting in that bus shelter.” On every day since, I have been able to record EMF fluctuations, and on Sunday, I was able to get a voice recording that sounded like a woman reciting a grocery list. But this morning, nothing! Nada!”

“Well, uh, ghosts gotta move on eventually, right? Otherwise, just about everywhere would be haunted, right?” It’s not that Ichigo had suddenly started believing ghosts or anything, but there was something about Agent Inoue that just made you want to go along with her and see where all this panned out.

Inoue shot him a finger gun. “Or, they get moved along.” She shoved a folded paper map at him. “You can put that thing down.”

Ichigo eased the Spirit Detect-O 9000, or whatever it was called, to the grass and accepted her map. It was a street map of DC, meant for tourists, emphasizing all the local transit routes and popular attractions. There was also a great loop marked on it in orange highlighter, zig-zagging back and forth through the city. There was a little ‘x’ marked on Franklin Park, with “Tuesday, early morning” written in a bubbly hand.

“What is this?” Ichigo frowned. It didn’t seem to match up with any of the metro or bus lines. It didn’t even match with the sidewalks, it appeared to cut straight through large buildings like the convention center.

“As far as I can tell,” Inoue said, her brown eyes very solemn, “that is the patrol route of our local grim reaper.”

👻 👻 👻

“So I actually got interested in grim reapers,” Inoue explained, once they were back in the office, “while I was investigating violent ghost phenomena.” She was eating a bag of corn chips that she had gotten from that ancient vending machine by punching it and then shoving her own arm up the chute. (She’d gotten Ichigo a bag, too, but he was too afraid to eat them.)

Ichigo was sitting at a cluttered table that Inoue had told him “could be his desk.” Half of it was taken up by a large aquarium full of rocks and a water bowl, but no life forms that Ichigo could detect. The other half was covered with back issues of “Ghost Hunter Technology” magazine. “You mean like poltergeists?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Poltergeists are noisy, but they aren’t usually able to kill their targets.”

“Kill? Ghosts can’t kill people, aside from, like scaring them to death,” Ichigo scoffed. “I mean, folklorically speaking. As we established earlier, I am not a ghost-believer.”

Inoue tipped her head to the side. “They do, actually, it just tends to get blamed on something else.”

“By ghost-non-believers.”

“By everyone, really, and that’s what’s so strange.” Inoue pulled a fat binder from a stack of seemingly identical ones, and tossed it open in front of Ichigo. “Edison, New Jersey, 2014. An elderly woman dies ‘of a broken heart’ a week after her husband dies of cancer. Coincidentally, a telephone pole falls on her house the same night and rips a hole in her house.” She turned a page. “Norfolk, Virginia, 2017. A young woman dies in what the police rule as a suicide, despite the fact that she made a 911 call 48 hours previous, expressing fear of her ex-boyfriend. Three days later, the boyfriend is dead of mysterious causes. Coincidentally, his apartment complex suffered significant damages from ‘a wild cougar.’”

Ichigo squinted at the pictures. The walls of the building were scored with what did appear to be scratch marks. “Hell of a cougar.”

“Exactly! And I’ve got dozens of these historic cases. But about four months ago, I was able to investigate one myself-- a young man named Joe Wallace. He lives here in the city, over near Dupont Circle. Wallace had cut off his toxic dad years ago, and refused to visit him in the hospital as he was dying. Four days after his father’s death, a truck crashes into his house in the middle of the night and then drives away before the police can arrive.”

“And he died.”

“No!” Inoue held up one finger. “Scratches and bruises, but he doesn’t die!”

“Okay, great. So what does he remember?”

“He remembers a truck crashing into his house.”

Ichigo scratched his chin. “I am confused.”

“Look at this!” Inoue stabbed a finger at the pictures. “These are claw marks, not vehicular wreckage! There’s damage on the second story window! Wallace had scratches and defensive wounds, as if he had been fending off an animal! And look here, at the damage to the walls of the bedroom!”

“What am I looking at?” Ichigo asked, squinting at a photograph that looked like it had been blown up past the point of recognition.

“There were cuts and slashes in the walls and bedding as though someone had been fighting with a sword.”

“Like a Medieval Times sword? Was the guy a Medieval Times enthusiast?”

“More consistent with a katana. Do you like Medieval Times?”

“No one likes Medieval Times.”

“I like Medieval Times. You’ve probably never even been. But back to the ghost! Why would Wallace remember a truck crashing into his house, when nothing about the scene is consistent with that story?”

“He was...lying?”

“His memories were replaced.”

“His memories were replaced,” Ichigo echoed.

“Yes.”

“By… aliens?”

Orihime heaved a deep sigh. “By a grim reaper.”

“A grim reaper with a samurai sword.”

“How on earth did you come to this conclusion?”

Inoue raised one eyebrow. “Because when I placed him under hypnosis, Wallace didn’t remember anything about a truck. He did remember a monster with batwings and a mask made of bone and his dead father’s voice who tried to kill him, except that he was saved by a tall man dressed in black. The man had bright red hair and fought the monster with a sword that was also a whip and then he wiped Wallace’s memories.”

Ichigo stared at her. “You can hypnotize people?”

Inoue gave him a long-suffering face. Ichigo had the sudden flash that he was going to be seeing that face a lot in the days to come. “Yes, I am a certified hypnotist.” Inoue’s phone suddenly started playing “Tubular Bells”. “Oops, that’s an alarm. Come on, we have a meeting with some important people. Do you like diners?”

👻 👻 👻

Agent Inoue apparently did not care for public transit, but she walked very quickly. Ichigo was concentrating so hard on keeping up with her that he nearly collided with her back when she stopped very suddenly.

“You don’t mind if we make a quick stop, do we?” Inoue asked.

“You said the meeting was with important people.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them!” Inoue pursed her lips. “You see that bodega right there?”

They were in a part of downtown that was mostly mid-to-upscale restaurants and government buildings and FedExes. But sure enough, there was a dingy little bodega nestled between a Mexican-Indian fusion place and an Au Bon Pain, the windows stuffed with t-shirts from the last administration and a variety of cell phone chargers. The overhead sign read “Urahara Shop.”

“Y...eah…” Ichigo replied.

“That place is a hotbed of supernatural activity.”

“Is it?” Ichigo asked.

“I am almost positive that it is a supply point and meeting place for grim reapers, monster slayers, cryptids, alien hunters, and lycanthropes, but the owner is on to me.”

“I see,” Ichigo said levelly.

“Can you go in and pretend to be a customer? They have lots of good candy you can look through. Inoue dug in her purse and came up with a fiver. “Here. Buy a scratch ticket or something.”

“I’m not buying a scratch ticket, they’re a scam.”

“If the big guy is working the counter, he’ll glare at you until you buy something, so be prepared.”

As Ichigo pushed open the door, he realized he’d never actually agreed to any of this. Agent Inoue’s secret hypnosis powers, once again. Whatever. It was a bodega, there were a thousand of them in DC. They all had the same Nats t-shirts and coffee mugs with pictures of the Washington Monument on them. Ichigo pretended to be interested in a rack of comics. He tended to prefer indy comics over the big publishers himself, but even so, he didn’t recognize any of the books. Maybe they were by local authors.

Up at the front of the shop, a tiny, dark-haired woman was giving whatfor to the man behind the counter, a tall fellow with pale, straw-colored hair sticking out in tufts from under the saddest hat Ichigo had ever seen, a shapeless, battered bucket, striped green and white.

“Well, I can sell you a new battery for your phone, Miss Kuchiki, maybe that would help.”

“Not if it only lasts as long as the last one you sold me! I really need to get in touch with my partner, except that even if I could get my phone working again, his battery is probably dead because everything you sell is the same crap!”

“Ah, that’s too bad! You know, I think Mr. Abarai was in here a few days ago… I wasn’t in at the time, but Jinta said he came in, asking about…”

The man trailed off, and Ichigo glanced up to see the shopkeeper looking directly at him.

“...metrocards. But as you know, we don’t sell metrocards anymore.”

The woman made an aggravated noise. “You’re so useless! If I write him a damned note, will you give it to him if he comes in?”

“Oh, of course! Anything for you, Miss Kuchiki!”

The conversation trailed off as the woman hunched over the counter to angrily scratch out a note.

Ichigo stuffed the comic he was flipping through back on its rack. He skipped the enormous display of bedazzled flip-flops and started perusing the surprisingly extensive selection of gum.

“Here!” the woman finished and shoved her note at the shopkeeper. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Have a wonderful day!” the shopkeeper tootled, giving her a little finger wave.

Ichigo felt bad for the woman. “Er, excuse me?” he said as she passed.

She turned to scowl at him. For such a tiny person, she seemed to contain a remarkable amount of rage.

“Do you need to call someone? You can use my phone, if you’d like.” He held it out like an offering.

The woman blinked at him for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy! You were just kind of loud and you sounded worried about your, um, partner.”

“I’m not worried about him, I just need to find him.” Her face softened. “Thanks, Mister, but I can’t reach him on a regular phone. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down eventually.” She turned to leave, then stopped to jab an accusatory finger at Ichigo. “And that’s professional partner, not… you know! Whatever!” She stomped out.

What a strange, tiny person.

Ichigo selected a gum and walked up to the counter.

“Oooh, dragonberry lime, good choice!” the man trilled. “Anything else I can get you? Bottled water? Fanny pack? Spare phone battery?”

“I’ll pass,” Ichigo replied dryly.

“I imagine it’s against FBI policy to let a stranger use your cell phone,” the shopkeeper said sweetly.

Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “This is my personal phone. And how did you…?”

The man gave a chortling laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo’s spine. “Because headquarters is three blocks away and only an FBI agent would wear a suit that square.”

Ichigo took his change and his gum and shoved them both in his pocket. “Yeah, well, your hat sucks.”

The man laughed harder. “Doesn’t it, though?”

Once he was outside again, Ichigo handed Inoue the gum and her change. “The owner of that place is a creep.”

“The guy in the green and white hat?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Urahara. You’re right, he’s the owner. Were there any other customers?”

“Just the short lady. You must have seen her come out. She was ripping Urahara a new one for some dodgy cell phone battery he sold her. I think she must have been NSA or something. She said she was trying to get ahold of her partner, but she needed a special phone.” As he said it, Ichigo realized it would be pretty odd for an NSA agent to be buying cell phone batteries from some shady bodega.

“No one came out,” Inoue replied.

“She definitely did! I heard the bell over the door ring.”

Inoue regarded Ichigo very seriously. “Agent Kurosaki. I was standing here the whole time. You were the only person who went in or out.” She looked at the gum. “Ooh! Dragonfruit lime! Do you want some?”

👻 👻 👻

They were late to the meeting.

Two men were waiting for them in the back corner booth. One of them had pinched, pointy features and piercing blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His chin-length haircut was pretty dramatic, but not as dramatic as his pure white trench coat. A cup of black coffee sat on the faded Formica table in front of him, but it didn’t look like it had been touched.

His companion was an enormous, good-looking Latino who was shoveling pancakes into his face.

“Inoue,” the dramatic guy said. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new partner, Kurosaki,” Inoue replied. “Kurosaki, this is Uryuu Ishida,” she indicated the white trenchcoat guy, “and Chad,” Mr. Pancakes.

“Also known as the ‘Lone Archers,’” Ishida specified. “We are apolitical actors who are interested in revealing the truths that are regularly hidden from the general populace by secret forces that conspire within the machinery of the American government.”

“You can just call me Chad,” said Chad.

“Good morning!” the waitress said. “Can I get you folks anything?”

“Oh, yes! I’m getting mozzarella sticks! Do you like mozzarella sticks, Kurosaki? They’re so good here!”

“So’re the pancakes,” added Chad.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” Ichigo announced. He glanced at Ishida’s cup. “Black.”

“Double mozzarella sticks, please!” Inoue chorused. “And a cherry coke!” She leaned over to Ichigo and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll give you a mozzarella stick.”

“Do you want some pancake?” Chad offered to Ishida. “I never think to offer.”

Ishida waved him off with a hand. “Agent Inoue. At great personal peril, I was able to obtain a sample of the item we discussed.” He slid a small paper packet across the table. “There are two tablets inside, but one should be sufficient for your purposes.” Ishida leaned forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “I was cautioned very strongly against using this, unless one had a firm plan for handling the… consequences.”

“I understand,” Inoue replied, stuffing the envelope into her purse.

Ichigo wanted to ask more questions, but the conversation shifted very quickly to some USGS floodplain maps that Ishida wanted Inoue to obtain for him that were apparently not available from the public webportals, allegedly because of filesize. Ichigo could practically hear the air quotes around the word “filesize.”

“We’re going to look for Jersey Devils next weekend,” Chad explained, sounding pretty excited about it.

“There’s only one, Chad,” Ishida corrected. “It’s just ‘Jersey Devil.’”

“There could be more than one,” Chad shrugged.

Thirty minutes later, they departed. Inoue had an order of mozzarella sticks in her purse. Ichigo had an armload of backissues of the Lone Archers’ ‘zine, which was, conveniently enough, titled The Lone Archer. There was no doubt in his mind that at least Ishida was completely off his rocker. The jury was still out on Chad… he struck Ichigo as the sort of guy who just went along with Ishida’s nonsense because he was a good friend and also liked taking camping trips and doing layout for ‘zines.

“So what was that thing they gave you?” Ichigo pestered. The idea of that little paper packet had been burning a hole in his brain the entire time.

“You busy tonight?” Inoue asked, raising an eyebrow slyly. “Between 10 and 11?”

“What are we doing?” Ichigo asked cautiously, wondering if he would be able to charge his time.

“We’re going to try and attract an angry ghost.”

👻 👻 👻

“Are you… sure this is… a good idea?” Ichigo asked for the sixteenth time, as Inoue focused the thermal camera on him.

They were in an old, abandoned lot that had formerly served as a Metro service facility. It was pretty spooky all on its own, filled with train cars too dilapidated for salvage.

It was 10:25pm. Inoue had set up no less than 17 different pieces of ghost detection equipment. Ichigo was questioning his life choices.

“You told me you don’t believe in ghosts. If ghosts don’t exist, then what could possibly go wrong?” Inoue posed.

“Well… that’s true,” Ichigo granted. “And, for the record, I still do not believe in ghosts. But in the Pascal’s wager sense of things, I am considering the ramifications of what happens if there are ghosts that exist, regardless of my belief in them.”

“And?” Inoue asked.

“Well, you said that these ghosts have hurt and killed people before. It seems like trying to attract one without having any method of, um, fighting it, seems kind of… irresponsible?”

“Ah, but you see, I’ve specifically picked this time and location to coincide with the grim reaper patrol routes I’ve been mapping out. Our friendly neighborhood psychopomp ought to show up just on schedule to fight the angry ghost for us. We’re doing them a favor, as I see it.”

“How so?” Ichigo exclaimed.

“It’s not like we’re creating an angry ghost out of nowhere. We’re just attracting an existing one to our location. We’re saving the grim reaper the trouble of having to hunt it down.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it so difficult to argue with Inoue? Possibly because she was so incredibly earnest in all her beliefs, and all her arguments were in completely good faith, it’s just that her logic came from some other dimension. This woman has solved multiple, high-profile murders, including several that were ice cold, Ichigo reminded himself. So she’s quirky. I am sure I can learn a lot from her.

“Okay, everything is in place!” Inoue announced, placing her hand on her hips. “Go hide behind that pile of moldy seats!”

Inoue took Ichigo’s place at the center of her recording equipment. “Agent Orihime Inoue speaking,” she said, for posterity. “It is 10:28pm. I am crushing one tablet of a substance called ‘Hollow Bait.’” She crunched the little white tablet, which looked an awful lot like an Alka-Seltzer, between her fingers, and then made a flying leap for the rotting pile of damp, orange upholstery that Ichigo was crouched behind.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Ichigo started. “How long would we have to wait, theoretically, with nothing happening, before we would declare this a bust?”

Inoue pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Usually, I would give it about two hours, but if you’ve got somewhere to be, I don’t mind if you leave early. It is nice to have company for a change.”

“No, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Ichigo replied. “I mean… sleeping, I guess.”

Inoue gave a charming little laugh. “I don’t sleep very well. And hunting for ghosts is more interesting than most of the stuff on Hulu.”

The way that she said it gave Ichigo the distinct impression that Inoue was, well, lonely. But that didn’t seem correct. She was weird, sure, but she was also friendly and talkative, and, er, well, she was extremely cute. Surely she had tons of friends.

“How’d you get into ghost hunting, anyway?” he tried to be conversational.

“Hmm,” Inoue hummed noncommittally. “Let’s just say there was an incident in my teen years, where my memories don’t match up to the property damage.”

Oh. Ichigo wondered if he should apologize, when suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine and a sound like a roar echoed in his ears, except he didn’t actually hear anything. “Did you hear that?” he gasped.

“It’s the EMF detector,” Inoue nodded, scrambling for the reader and Ichigo realized he could hear a faint beeping.

“No, not the beeping, it was like a… a… scream…”

“You heard a scream?”

“I didn’t exactly…” Ichigo trailed off as he heard two more, coming from different directions. “There’s more than one. Monster screams. Not human screams.”

Inoue stared at him, eyes wide. “I don’t hear anything. Have you ever been tested for latent psychic ability?”

There was a sudden change in the air pressure, and a fetid, rotting smell, even worse than the Metro seats. Ichigo grabbed Inoue by the shoulders and rolled out of the way, just as the pile of junk they had been crouched behind compacted like it had been through a car crusher. Or smashed by a giant foot.

“Whoa!” Inoue exclaimed, trying to push Ichigo off of her so she could see what was going on.

Ichigo blinked through the night. He couldn’t see anything, but there was an area of space that looked thick and hazy, like it wasn’t refracting the harsh glow of the sodium street lights quite correctly.

“We have to get out of here,” Ichigo gasped.

“Can you see it?” Inoue asked, her eyes wide and excited.

“Not-- not really,” Ichigo replied, pulling at her arm. The air blurred, and Ichigo had the sense the thing was jumping at them. He could tell it was fast, but he couldn’t see it, he didn’t know what to--

“Howl, Zabimaru!”

It was both there and not quite there, a liquid blade made of glass and starlight, that snapped through the air at the invisible thing. The monster bellowed, and whipped around, charging at a dark figure standing atop one of the old Metro cars.

“Pick on someone your own size, ugly!” the man bellowed, and as Ichigo squinted, he realized that their savior was dressed all in black. He was tall, and his hair was pulled back in a spiky ponytail. It was bright red. He was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night. They were pushed up on top of his head, to be fair, but Ichigo had a feeling this detail would stick with him.

“You can see that guy, right?” Ichigo asked Inoue desperately. “The guy who’s fighting the ghost? The guy that looks just like the guy in your report?”

“There’s a guy?” Inoue asked. “No. Where is he? Can you usually see ghosts?”

“I don’t even believe in ghosts!”

“Well, maybe you don’t believe in them because you can see them and you don’t want to, did you ever think of that?”

“I don’t think now is the time to interrogate my personal traumas!”

Suddenly, there was another drop in pressure, and Ichigo had the sense of heavy breathing and sharp teeth. “Inoue. I think there’s another one.”

“Well, can you get the guy to come fight this one, too?”

“He seems busy,” Ichigo squeaked.

Something black flashed by his vision, and there was a loud crack and a sound of something screeching in pain. A second dark-clad person had arrived, landing softly on sandaled feet. There was the same unreality to her, a sense that she wasn’t entirely there, as well as a certain familiarity that Ichigo couldn’t place. Her sword was bright in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting on snow.

“Oi, there you are, you big dummy!” she shouted at the first man and Ichigo realized with a jolt that it was the angry woman from the bodega. “I’ve been looking for you for four days!”

“I had a problem with my gigai and maybe you should check your texts once in a while!” the tall guy shouted back. Ichigo refused to think of him as a grim reaper. A grim reaper would not wear sunglasses.

“My phone died!”

“Can we-- ow! -- discuss this later? I’m glad you’re okay, I missed you. Why are there so many Hollows in this train yard?”

“You’re such a sap! And the Hollows are here because some stupid humans got ahold of some Hollow bait.” The woman turned, and glared at Ichigo. Her eyes burned with blue flame, like the burner of a gas stove.

That would have been the last thing Ichigo remembered, if he had actually remembered it, or any of the things that came before it.

👻 👻 👻

Ichigo was sitting at his desk.

Inoue was sitting at her desk.

The sun was streaming in the window. The clock on Ichigo’s phone read 7:12am.

Inoue frowned. She examined a coffee cup on her desk. She took a hesitant sip, and then made a face. “Why are we here?” she wondered softly.

“I hate to pull an all-nighter,” Ichigo said, stretching, “but it sure does feel good to be caught up on paperwork!”

Inoue regarded him. “Kurosaki,” she said, “how long have you worked here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Well, I guess this is my second day.”

“Right. So… how much paperwork did you have to catch up on?”

Ichigo blinked. He very distinctively recalled working through the night-- his hand cramping, the incredibly spicy Thai food they’d ordered, Inoue’s seemingly infinite Boy Bands of the 90’s playlist. “I… was helping you, I guess?” Come to think of it, why was he filling out paperwork by hand, anyway? His laptop sat next to him, the lid closed. It wasn’t even plugged in.

Inoue’s fist slammed down onto her desk. “Gosh darnit! They wiped my memories again!!”

#wacky au requests #my writing #in my youth i shipped mulder and scully so hard #and now it's like...girl #you could do so much better #it is not possible to do better than gillian anderson

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argumentl · 3 years

Text

The Freedom of Expression Ep 16 - UFO expert's recommendation as the Japan Air Self Defense Force sets up Space Operations Squadron.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this week's installment of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome.

J: You looked at us the opposite way then.

K: I did (laughs)

J: I don't mind though.

K: Hahaha.

J: Im sorry to be so pedantic.

K: No, i thought the same myself.

J: I just wondered whether you'd forgotten our names, or whether you were a bit tired.

T: He's probably tired.

J: I was a bit concerned *laughs*

K: You got me.

J: I just noticed it, so..

K: How have you been recently?

J: Well, how? hmm, well..

K: Its still around the middle of April now, as we record this, right? The shops are starting to open again. We are still in...what was it, a state of emergency..

J: It hasn't been lifted in Tokyo.

K: But the stores are slowly starting to operate again if you look around. Ramen places are really busy and such. But, how has it been for you guys?

J: Well, ive been cooking for myself as much as possible. Buying stuff from the grocers, and making salad and stuff every day. I don't have a frying pan though.

T: You don't have a frying pan??

J: No.

K: Do you have a microwave?

J: I do have a microwave. But a frying pan...well, recently, i bought some eggs, and tried to make fried eggs, but i had to cook them in a steel pan.*T laughing a lot* And when I tried to scrape them out, the yolk got destroyed. *K laughs* It was chaos.

T: How have you survived this far in life?

J: No, I mean I usually eat out, so this is a first for me at 52 years old, this self catering lifestyle.

T: I have a special pan for cooking eggs, its designed especially for eggs (tamagoyaki).

J: Really?

K: Oh, that square type?

T: Yeah, yeah.

K: Ehh!

J: Really?

T: I keep it really clean, and make sure I don't use it for anything other than eggs.

K: Oh, so do you cook a lot?

T: I do, yeah.

J: Kaoru, can you cook?

K: Do I look like I can? *laughs*

J: You don't, you don't. *everyone laughs loudly* You don't at all, sorry.

K: I can manage fried vegetables and stuff like that.

J: Oh, well, you are probably better than me then.

K: But honestly, I havn't cooked anything in years.

T: *To J* If you say he's better than you, that puts you at a super low level! *K laughs*

J: Well, now you mention it, maybe we are about the same level.

K: A long time ago, when I first came to Tokyo, I made curry once.

J, T: Oohh?!

K: Yeah..And with curry, if you let it sit for one night, its supposed to taste better the next day.

J: Yeah, the flavour deepens.

K: When I checked on it the next day, it had grown mould. *the others laugh a lot*

T: How?

K: I don't know.

J: What did you put in it?

K: Just the normal stuff...curry cubes and stuff.

T: It grew mould after a day...?

K: It did, yeah.

J: Ehhh? By the way, did you eat any of it on the day you made it?

K: No, because I thought it would taste better after leaving it for a day. Also, it was actually kind of watery. Maybe I got the measurements wrong. So I thought if I leave it for a day, it would thicken up, but it grew mould.

J: *laughing* Wow. If you cooked it properly, it wouldn't grow mould unless there was something wrong with it though, would it?

T: Yeah, exactly.

J: Thats incredible.

T: Yeah, were you living somewhere funny?

K: Haha, the place?

J: Lets do this sometime. Lets have a curry party with Kaoru making the curry.

T: Oh, yeah.

K: Um, in my blog magazine TheTheDay, I appealed for ideas of what people want me to do, and people said they want me to cook.

J, T: Ehhh.

J: Will you do it? Get your revenge?

K: Revenge? *laughs*

J: Curry revenge. We'd have to have a doctor on stand-by though. *K laughs* We'd end up with curry poisoning. Everyone who ate it would collapse one by one.

K: It would be dangerous.

J: It would, it would.

K: Okay, so today...Tasai san.

T: Yes, so..uh..finally we've reached this era! Finally!

J: What is it? What happened?

T: Well, uh, on May 18th, for the first time, the Japan Air Self Defense Force (JASDF) started a specialist division to monitor regions in space, the Space Operations Squadron.

J: At last!

T: Its like Space Battleship Yamato, its as if that kind of old sci-fi is finally becoming real in this current Reiwa era. Well, actually, its not really like Yamato. What they are really doing is keeping an eye on space junk, and watching for any suspicious looking man-made satellites. To begin with they will ????*1, and by 2026, they say they want to put thier own satellites into orbit too. Its true that America, Russia, and China are leaders in this field, but its like Japan has also started to think about self defence in terms of space too.

J: I see. This is quite serious news then, isn't it.

T: Well, Tokyo sports always has a different take.

J, K: *laugh*

J: Of course.

T: So, in response to the inauguration of this devision, a UFO expert had one thing he wanted to say, which was...well, there is the 'scramble', yes? A kind of emergency take-off, if for example, missles are heading towards domestic land, or if mysterious sightings*2 happen, there is stuff like this. And in 2018, the JASDF actually had 999 scrambles, where they saw something they thought was dangerous, and had to take off immediately. So, of those, 638 cases involved Chinese vessels, 340 cases involved Russian, and 18 cases were classed as 'other'. This UFO expert thinks these might be UFOs, so with the creation of this new devision, he says they could check to see if they actually are UFOs.

J: By the way, what is the Japanese government's stance on the existence of UFOs? It seems like America already thinks they exist, and are taking some action, right?

K: There is a lot of???*4

J: Yeh, on the news. I havn't watched it properly, but what do they think again?

T: ????

K:????

J????*5

T: The Japanese government hasn't clearly confimed whether or not they think UFOs are real or not.

J: Hmm, Kaoru what do you think? Do UFOs exist or don't they?

K: Well, I want them to exist. I like reading about them.

J: Well, its fun isn't it?

T: While I've been working at Tokyo Sports, we've had quite a few reports on photos people have taken of UFOs. Um, you know Hyper media creator Takashiro Tsuyoshi..?

J: Ahh, Takashiro san.

T: When he reported...where was it Australia, Byron Bay..or something. He went there for a festival, and he showed me a photo of a UFO that he took while he was there. And there really was a kind of triangle shaped UFO looking thing on it. And when he showed it to an expert, they said after about 2 seconds, 'Ah, yes, this is a UFO', without even checking properly. *the others laugh*.

J: You'd want them to analyze it a bit more

K: It seems too easy, right? Like, ah, yeh yeh.

T: Yeh, thats a UFO..

J: Saying its a UFO that quickly...

T: According to this expert, if you see a UFO, a big change will happen in your life....and then straight after that he ????*6 and stuff like that happened...Also, the former actress, who turned to that religious cult..

J: Oh, the Happy Science cult.

T: Yeh, Sengen Yoshiko. She captured footage of a UFO in Toyama, and showed it to me, so I kind of think they are real.

J: Have either of you ever seen a UFO yourselves?

K: I've seen things where I've thought, what is that?!. Like...*imitates zig zag movement in the sky*

T: There is something isn't there.

J: There are things that move like that, aren't there. They are different from shooting stars, and airplanes couldn't move in that way. I've wondered what they are.

K: And when you try to catch it on your smartphone or something, you can't, can you?

T: I just remembered! I did catch a UFO on my smartphone. I went to Mexico once to do a story.

K: Didn't you mention that before?

T: Oh, maybe I did, on the radio. Well, when i was in Mexico, what is it..when the sun takes a long time..

J: The summer solstice?

T: Yeh, on that day, we climed to the top of a big rock, and held hands with all the local people. At that time we took loads of photos of the sky, and when we checked later, they showed a UFO.

J,K: Ehh?

T: Yeh, and I don't know the first thing about it. Im in the club of people who've photographed a UFO.

J: A UFO was close to you....Isn't this the right time for him to come out? That guy?

Kami:.....

K: He's not coming.

Kami: Um..

J: He's here, he's here.

Kami: We're talking about UFOs right? When I saw that the JASDF had started a space army, I was excited. And when I wondered what they would get up to, it said they would be picking up space junk..

T: *laughs*

Kami: Its like when we lost at the world cup, and picked up all the garbage, then went home. So I was a bit shocked at what was written.

K: But thats just the starting point, right?

T: Yeah, starting with the little things, moving steadily.

J: But, hey, while they say that, they might be carrying out some bigger project behind the scenes.

K: Well, yeah.

T: Thats right.

J: Kami, what do you think about UFOs?

Kami: I've never seen one.

J: Oh, you havn't?

K: But from your perspective, do UFOs exist?

Kami: Do they exist?...Im not sure.

K:.*laughs*

J: He's not very articulate, is he? This is different from when he was talking about mahjong!

K: *laughs*

J: He never stopped when he was talking about mahjong. Losing 30,000 and such. Coming into Tasai san's conversation that much..He's changed completey since last time. A poor response, Kami. Hey, but what is it?...Can't gods transcend space-time?

Kami: Im not sure.

J: Wait, you're not sure?

Kami: Space-time? Well, I can't talk about it, cause I'll get into trouble if I do.

J: Ah, if you tell us?

K: *laughs*

T: Is this a new organisation?

K: An organisation, right?

J: Gods have them too.

K: They probably have unions, right?

Kami: Yes, yes. *K laughs*

T: Someone more powerful than Kami will be onto him.

K: Yeah, he'll be stopped.

Kami: But the gods know this, theres nothing faster than light, right?

J, T: Ahh

Kami: Did you know that?

J: Yes, I did.

Kami: Yeah, thats it. Theres nothing faster than light, yeh. Thats the thing. Do you know who decided that? It was a god.

J: Ohh.

T, K: Eh?

Kami: Not me, one of my distant relatives.

J: Distant relatives? *laughs* One of the gods in the group?

K: It wasn't himself, but..

Kami: Yes, thats it.

J: Hang on, wait a minute, so in terms of what we are talking about, Kami, what did YOU create? Gods make many different things I think.

Kami: I make parts in a factory. *J, K laugh*.

T: What? The old guy in a backstreet workshop?

K: *laughs* He's the type who can descend to earth very easily, right?

J: He really is one of the commoners.*laughs* Its funny.

Kami: Its because Im an ally of the common people.

K: Well, yeh, it seems like he often goes to Chinese restaurants..

J: Right.

T: And he likes Mahjong

K: Yeh, he likes Mahjong.

J: He's kinda just like my Dad.

K: *laughs*

J: Ah, but UFOs, right?

K: It would be good if they develop this.

T: There might be things like space wars in the future, in reality. With America and such. If they are competing for supremacy in space.

K: Ah, yeh, fighting for supremacy.

T: Right?

J: But Japan is a little late getting started, in relation to that.

K: Oh yeh, its impossible.

J: Right? We wouldn't ever take supremacy.

T: Well Japan can already be seen from anywhere by spy satellites, they'd get all our info.

J: Well, thats it. That kind of thing is going on at the same time.

K: Well, thats just how it is.

J: Thats how it is, right?

T: Thanks for listening.

J: This was a spaced themed chat.

K: Please look forward to next week, thank you very much. Please subscribe.

J,T, Kami: Please do.

*1,3,4,5 Couldn't catch these bits.

*2 mysterious sightings...or something like it.

*6 Sounded like, 'he got divorced', but i couldn't distinguish it clearly enough.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #薫 #kaoru

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agustdef · 4 years

Text

Missing You

Pairing: Jin x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Soft.

Rating: PG

Y/N woke up for the fifth time that night covered in sweat and breathing heavily. A stupid nightmare wouldn’t leave her alone and every time she’d managed to get herself to sleep it would merely pick up where she’d left it. Something she could never do with the awesome dreams she wanted to finish, but of course being chased through the forest was something her mind wanted to relive over and over again.

When her eyes glanced towards the clock, she noticed it was five in the morning, which meant the sun would start rising before she could even try to sleep again. She cursed herself for not buying black out curtains when she saw them a few days before. They would’ve come in handy, but she shrugged it off because she’d never needed them to help sleep before.

If only she’d foreseen several sleepless nights then.

Accepting her fate, Y/N carefully sat up and got out of the bed. She felt disgusting and before she could do anything else a shower was in order.

Once inside the bathroom she slipped off her clothes and swapped her silk Sailor Moon bonnet for a shower cap. It made her miss her braids, which she didn’t care about getting wet, but she’d gone in for a haircut a few days before. Haircuts for her meant her curls were straightened and she would be damned if she didn’t get full use of allowing heat near her hair.

The shower was brief and she was quick to get dry, then slather her body with lotion. She’d been feeling extra dry for a few weeks and there was this weird trail of lighter brown spots against her dark brown skin that the dermatologist said would clear up with extra moisture. Y/N didn’t fully believe that, but she’d try the method just so she could say she did when things didn’t clear up.

As she entered the bedroom again Y/N realized how odd her morning was going. Aside from the nightmare and lack of sleep, things felt slower and she was hyper aware of everything. Every action came with in depth thought about what she was doing.

She really hoped things righted themselves as she went about her day.

After slipping on undergarments she made a beeline for Jin’s side of the dresser and snagged one of his softer sweaters. It made her feel warm and comforted, which was something she craved after that nightmare. It wasn’t one that scared her too much and she’d been able to shake the imagery rather easily, but it still had her feeling off. Maybe it got her adrenaline pumping a little.

Either way she hated it and needed to feel less alone. Needed to combat the longing for Jin to be home already. Sometimes she wished she’d taken the job as a photographer at Big Hit instead of her dream magazine. It would’ve meant that she’d gone on tour with the boys and wouldn’t be so limited to phone communication and the one time she flew out for one of the stops.

But she’d made the choice and was fine with that. It taught her that she doesn’t like the job she worked that much at least. Not that she planned to quit it any time soon.

Comfortable and ignoring the way her mind lingered on missing Jin she padded out to the kitchen. Food would help her. Well, food and some tea.

“Alexa, play Morning Rise playlist,” she shouted.

“Playing Morning Rise playlist,” Alexa parroted back at her.

The music started off with a soft song by Tori Kelly and as it changed songs the energy exuded from them would build. It was curated to carefully wake her and not just throw her into the deep end.

Humming along she went for the simple breakfast of eggs, sausage, and rice. Making a helping slightly larger than she usually would to deal with her new appetite. She didn’t want to be back in the kitchen making food an hour after she’d finished eating.

Once her food was done and her tea was brewed Y/N made her way towards the living room with all of it. Usually, she ate at the island in the kitchen or the dining room table but she wanted to watch TV comfortably. On the floor in front of the coffee table was an ideal spot.

“Alexa, stop,” she called as she left the kitchen.

While she ate Strong Woman Do Bong Soon played on the screen. It was the millionth time she’d watched the drama, but that didn’t matter to her. Every time brought her the same amount of joy and she planned to watch it a million more times.

Where she’d started was where the two leads were first fully giving into their feelings and though it was beyond cute it sent a pang into her heart. Turning her head, she stared at the picture of her and Jin on the wall. She’d hated it and didn’t want it displayed anywhere, but Jin begged until she gave in.

Now she hated it because it served as a reminder of the man she was missing. Tour was basically over, but there were other things the boys had to do and she’d been told he’d not be back for at least two more weeks.

Y/N wanted him back right that second. So much so that she almost went to get her phone to call and tell him that, but it was late where they were and she didn’t want to wake him up.

“And that would just be unfair,” she mumbled.

Sighing, she collected her empty dishes and took them back to the kitchen. After throwing them in the dishwasher with some other dishes she hadn’t cleaned the night before she poured another cup of tea and grabbed a back of cookies that she liked to have with it. She didn’t care that it was barely six, she’d eat them any time.

With her snacks in hand she returned to the living room but took a seat on the lounger part of the couch. Setting her things on the end table next to her she grabbed the fluffy blanket and wrapped herself in it.

Settled into her seat she gave her full attention back to the TV. Occasionally, she’d yell something out at the screen as if the characters could hear her or their stupid mistakes would change in her current watch. And of course, they didn’t stop being stupid, much to her chagrin.

It reached a point that she was so engrossed that the sound of the door opening, bags dropping, and footsteps didn’t catch her attention. It wasn’t until Jin was leaning over her that she noticed him.

“Jin!” she squealed.

Y/N practically jumped off the couch to get her arms around him, but he stopped her and carefully lifted her into his arms.

“I missed you too,” he said, his voice low and scratchy.

After a few moments they pulled away and she stared at his face, hands moving to cup his cheeks. A pout formed on her lips and her eyes narrowed.

“You told me two…”

“Two weeks, I know. It was that long, but it changed and I was given the choice to stay there or come home early,” he said.

Though the response was valid, Y/N maintained her expression. Jin rolled his eyes at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Of course, she melted into him. His lips were always so soft and she enjoyed kissing them any chance she got.

When he pulled away, she groaned in protest, to which he just laughed.

Moving past her, he took her seat and used her hand to pull her down with him, though he was careful on how she fell. Once she was on her side and curled into him both his arms wrapped around her waist.

His gaze went to the TV immediately, but she simply stared at him. After several seconds he stared back at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“I really missed you, Jinnie,” she said.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back the smile was still there, but she could see how tired he was.

“God, I missed you too. The last few weeks have been hell,” he said.

At that Y/N merely cuddled closer, even throwing a leg over his torso. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder.

For the first time in a while she felt so comfortable and at peace. Like she’d finally found the missing piece that she’d needed. And though she hated feeling like she was becoming clingy she didn’t hate the joy that coursed through her that came with having him back. The feeling of truly being at home.

Who knows how much time passed as they laid there snuggled together and watched the drama together. Y/N sure as hell didn’t care, she was too comfortable to even think of doing anything else.

“Why were you up, baby?” Jin asked softly.

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, only to be met with a frown. It was his turn to be displeased with his significant other.

“Sleep has been weird for a few days. Nightmares wake me up multiple times a night and after the fifth time I kind of just gave up,” she said.

That only made Jin frown more, one of his hands gently squeezing her hip.

“The forest one?”

She nodded.

For a moment his brows furrowed and then Y/N was being attacked. Jin pinned her and placed kisses all over her face, repeating the process multiple times. She laughed and begged for him to stop, but he refused to let up. He didn’t stop until she’d laughed so hard and for so long that her breathing was a little heavy. Then he pulled away and smiled at her, laughing obnoxiously when she slapped his arm.

Leaning down he pressed several kisses to her lips and then down to her neck. She thought he’d stop there, but he just kept going. Lifting his sweater from her body to kiss the bare skin on her chest and then still going farther. He stopped just above her stomach, glancing up at her for a few seconds before kissing it multiple times.

“Don’t think I forgot about you, little one. Daddy missed you too,” he said to her protruding stomach.

The bump was prominent, but not that much. She was only about four and a half months pregnant, so there was still some growing to be done on her and the baby’s part.

For several minutes he just talked to her stomach. He told the baby about the tour and how much he’d missed them and their mama. It was beyond cute and oddly relaxing for Y/N. It also filled her heart to the brink and she was seconds away from cooing at him, which she knew that he’d hate.

Suddenly he stopped talking and looked up at her.

“Quit your job and come with us for the second half of the tour,” he blurted out.

The suddenness of it shocked her. Y/N’s eyes went wide and her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a response.

Jin crawled back up the couch so they were eye level. His expression appeared conflicted for a moment, but then he brushed her purple hair out of his eyes and stared at her intensely.

“I know it’s the job you really wanted, but you do not like it there. It’s fine, I know, but you come home annoyed more often than not. You could leave there and take the job as one of our tour photographers. It would be intense, but not enough that you or the baby would be too stressed. And it would be a great time with you there. We’d not have to be apart so much. Plus, it ends right as you reach your last month and then my schedule is almost completely clear, with no out of country travel,” he said.

Y/N closed her mouth for a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she mulled it over. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much time at all.

“I really don’t like that job,” she said.

That’s all it took for Jin to scream and pull her tight against him. Once more he was pressing kisses all over her face and thanking her. There were also a few mentions of telling Big Hit soon and making her promise to put in her notice too.

It took a bit to get him to pull back, but when he did, she just smiled at him. “Okay, okay. But can we do that in a few hours? I just really want to stay like this with you for a while longer.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

And with that they spent several hours cuddled on the couch and rewatched all their favorite things. It only ended because Namjoon called and basically screamed at Jin, asking if he’d asked Y/N already or not.

#bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanscenery #kwritersworldnet #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #jin au #idol!au #idolverse #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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themangoyogurt · 4 years

Text

Between 29th and Astoria: The Appetizer

Chapter 5

It was always the same story after a night of hard drinking - waking up with regret, plotting your own death, and revisiting misdemeanors committed under the influence of alcohol. To make matters worse, you had fallen asleep on the commute resulting in missing your stop. By the time you went above ground, back down on the other side, and hopped on the right train - you were hopelessly late.

Not only that, but you had been drunk enough to make stupid life decisions such as feel up your freaking boss, but not blitzed enough to have forgotten what had happened. You stepped off the executive elevator and onto the forty-fifth floor completely ready to die of embarrassment.

Only, you didn’t.

Ren’s door was closed, but you heard gentle murmuring behind the glass. His morning conference call must have begun earlier than scheduled. At least that took care of any awkward A.M. confrontations. If you had any doubts that your job was on the line though, they were immediately cleared as you stepped up to your little glass fortress.

Sitting neatly in the center right between your monitor and keyboard was a cup of coffee. A sticky note was stuck to the sleeve with two sentences scrawled in surprisingly beautiful penmanship.

“May I suggest a different addictive substance? Perhaps one that won’t kill you?”

The smell of hazelnut and spice wafted up from the lid, enveloping the area with a warm scent. The caramel liquid inside was still hot, and burned deliciously as it was consumed. Seeing that he bought you coffee, perhaps Kylo’s hypocrisy regarding smoking could be ignored. For now at least. You reclined into the leather seat underneath and began your typical morning rituals.

The computer fired on with a half-hearted beep. Next, physical memos were sorted as the screen slowly loaded. Some papers were shuffled into the trash. Others were filed away for later use, and a select few were organized into a folder to hand off to Mr. Ren. As soon as the monitor pinged to life, e-mails were next on the list. Similar to the memos, you organized and sorted the digital mail. Once in a while, you’d be interrupted by a phone call.

Most of the time it was a frantic Mitaka in search of one thing or another for Hux. The poor man was clearly stretched far too thin, and you always spent the latter half of your conversations giving the assistant a pep talk. By the time everything was catalogued and dealt with, it was usually lunch. That was almost always taken alone at your desk. First Order certainly didn’t encourage friendships, that much was for sure. If you were lucky and Mr. Ren had an outside appointment during the hour, you were able to eat elsewhere. Even then it wasn’t very exciting. You’d usually just grab a sorry excuse for a salad from Hale & Hearty, and eat it in the break room.

Today was different though. Twelve o’ clock struck, and Mr. Ren emerged from his office. Dark hair coiffed backwards, he slowly ambled towards your desk. Your name slid from his lips like oil and you looked up in surprise.

“Mr. Ren! I thought you had a lunch appointment today.”

He tapped his fingers along the smooth surface of your desk and nodded. Reaching over, he plucked your purse hanging from the back of the chair. Smiling, the man responded, “Yes, I do. You’re my appointment.”

You mouth slackened in surprise, and Kylo smirked at your reaction, filing away the image along with others he had collected over time. Twirling the leather strap of your bag in one hand, he turned on his heel and marched over to the elevator. You immediately jumped up from your chair and hurried a step behind the man.

He brought you to a swanky restaurant somewhere uptown. Just like at the club last night, you felt incredibly out of place. It was the type of establishment you’d only read about in magazines alongside the words “so-and-so celebrity spotted at”. It certainly wasn’t the kind of venue a failed photographer turned personal assistant ate at. And it definitely wasn’t the kind of place a boss should be taking his assistant just for kicks.

Regardless, Kylo still placed a warm palm on your lower back and ushered you through the large doors and into a marble waiting area. The hostess immediately recognized the raven-haired CEO and lead the way to a private dining area secluded in the back.

The lithe blonde’s eyes darted between the two of you and then to Kylo’s hands before asking, “Mr. Ren, would you like me to check your - uh - friend’s bag?”

Oh my God. Kylo Ren was still holding your purse.

Your face colored in embarrassment as you thought about how this woman probably checked Birkins worth six figures. Your little flea market find of cracked leather definitely had no business being checked anywhere. Panicking, you snatched the purse away from your boss and awkwardly tittered that you’d be fine holding onto the handbag.

Did the woman just give you a look of sympathy?

If she kept up that attitude, you’d give her something to be sympathetic about. Your eyes squinted ever so slightly, and Ren let out a snort. He waved the hostess away and pulled out your chair before settling in across the table.

“If you’re ashamed of your purse, you could always buy a new one.”

“Excuse me?! Just because I don’t enjoy being judged, doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of my purse! And what do you expect me to do? Go out and buy a Chanel with the zero dollars in my savings account?”

Kylo’s head tilted backwards as he chuckled, “You looked ready to choke the hostess with your mind.”

“My purse has character. Something she wouldn’t understand,” you pouted.

“Yes. I’m just finding out about how much character you possess.”

Heat spread across your cheeks and your face bloomed pink at your boss’s teasing. Fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth you whispered, “I’m so sorry about last night, Mr. Ren.” He dismissed your apology with a wave of his hand and chortled, “I’ve seen Phasma do worse on a better night. Don’t worry about it.” He slowly drank in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your lashes shyly fluttered at his words. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

Thankfully the waiter arrived, and provided some relief as he went over the tasting menu. Who on earth ate five courses at twelve thirty in the afternoon?

Apparently, Kylo Ren did. The man didn’t even flinch as the waiter rattled off various dishes and accompaniments. You blushed again as Mr. Ren ordered a whiskey neat for himself and a gin and tonic for yourself. He ignored your protests that it was too early to drink, and opted to lean back and watch your fruitless objections with mirth.

“Are you done?”

Your ears turned red, and Kylo grinned with his full set of teeth. He was beginning to discover a new hobby - making his assistant blush. Once again, the waiter came to the rescue as he set down a white oval porcelain dish with two oysters perched atop a hill of ice with caviar scattered about. Ren expertly fed himself the appetizer and watched you struggle in amusement. Compared to Ren’s effortless elegance, you looked like a pelican choking down sardines.

He quietly placed a palm on the table and asked, “So, tell me about yourself. What do you do after work?”

An eyebrow raised on its own as you studied Mr. Ren with some suspicion. Just a few days ago, this man was one missed memo away from flipping over your desk and booting you out the door. Now he wanted to know what you did for fun? As if sensing your apprehension, Kylo teased, “Isn’t this what friends do? Get to know each other?”

The memory of Kylo’s massive hands gripping your slight wrists was enough to make you gag on your drink. Were gin and tonics always this difficult to stomach?

Clearing your throat and wiping the edges of your lips, you replied, “Well. Honestly, I go to work so early and stay so late...there isn’t really much time for me to do anything. My friends are pretty understanding though, so we spend most of our time at my apartment or theirs. We - uh - you know, talk. Sometimes we play board games or just watch Netflix. We do other things together, too.”

Kylo arched a brow and joked, “You do ‘other things’ with your friends? How conveniently vague.”

Coughing again, you sputtered, “No! No. I mean, we’re all single, but we don’t - you know - do weird things. Uhm, Rose is a mechanic and she works on these crazy fancy private planes that come in and out of the city. Sometimes her clients invite her to cool things, and I’ll get to tag along. Poe has a really sweet job, and he’ll hook us up with tickets to events, too. And, uhm, Finn also works at Poe’s company, but only part time. But he’s trying really hard to be an actor and he just wrapped up a really great show. We’ll go see him in different performances, and it’s really fun!”

Kylo ran his bottom lip along the edge of his glass as he took in your response. The name “Poe” sounded oddly familiar to him. It was a rather archaic sounding name that not many in your age group had. He’d have to look into that later, rather preferring to settle on one key fact he was surprisingly happy to learn - you were single.

“What about you, Mr. Ren? Do you have any hobbies? Or - uhm - date?”

You were going to be the death of him. If he could die via cuteness, he would choose you every time. He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, almost as if you wished you could push the words back down. He thought for a moment: no, what he did with the fairer sex certainly wouldn’t be considered dating. As for hobbies?

“Sure. I enjoy calligraphy. It’s a nice marriage of art and the written form. I also like taking my cars out to the speedway from time-to-time. As for dating? No. I wouldn’t say I have the time to date...per se.”

You nodded along, thinking the entire time that Mr. Ren sounded lightyears above you. Of course someone like him wouldn’t play fucking Cranium in his free time. You continued to eat and chat until the meal wrapped up. Kylo was even suave enough to take care of the check while he got up to use the restroom, saving you the embarrassment of having to act like you could even afford to split the $700 bill.

Walking out the door, you stopped to turn to the man. Rocking a bit on your heels, you meekly murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Ren...”

“What was that, little mouse? I didn’t quite catch that.” A quirk of his lip indicated that he was teasing you again.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, “Thank you, Mr. Ren. For the meal. And the conversation. I - uh - quite enjoyed spending time with you.”

He gave you a warm smile. The most genuine one you have yet to witness. He carefully patted your back - high enough to be professional, but low enough to leave you confused.

Looking up into the sky, he replied, “I’m glad. Perhaps we could making spending time together a habit.”

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #reader insert #modern au #B29&A

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writers-hes · 4 years

Text

how do you want to spend new years eve?

hello, guys! thank you so much for your support on christmas record! i’ve been getting some requests to continue it and late christmas and i will get to it, after the plans that im currently thinking of! meanwhile, here is a new years-themed fic! if

if you haven’t read the fics mentioned above, you can read them here. if you want to be a part of my taglist, you can do so by reblogging or liking this post.

don’t forget, requests are open! ❤️

warnings: SMUT !!!!! swearing, alcohol + unedited

(it’s my first time writing smut so please leave me some feedback! i love you guys and thank you guys so much for 140+ followers, i love u all!)

--------

“I can’t do this anymore,”

Words that Harry told you when last year’s New Year’s Eve. Harry didn’t know why he was saying those words, perhaps it was because he wanted to take the young model to bed instead of you. Harry watched you crumble that night, asking what happened, asking if it was your fault. It wasn’t any. In fact, things were going great--so great between the two of you. Perhaps the reason why Harry broke up with you was because for him, distance was the antidote to the love he was feeling. Perhaps he was scared because all of his past relationships never seemed to work out, a sick part of him wanted you not to work out. Heartbreak brings a new writing material, anyway. He felt it at first, how in love he was suddenly being when you combed the stores in London to find his favourite bath gel. It was the little things that you noticed and the little things that Harry’s beating himself up for now.

The year was so great for Harry, releasing his new album and all that. He just had two successful live shows in Los Angeles and in London. People celebrated him wherever he went and he had this rockstar status that you once used to love but he’d just rather be at home with you. He’d rather spend the night with you instead of getting wasted during the afterparties, trying his best to forget the greatest mistake he’s ever done. It was annoyingly painful, how he saw your face in crowds, he knows you weren’t there but he was hoping. One time, strolling in his hometown, Holmes Chapel, he thought he saw you. He ran after you, grasping the arms of the girl in front of him. It wasn’t you--she just looked like you. Seven billion faces in the world and yours was the only face he memorised perfectly. He memorised how you scrunch your nose, how you’d raise your eyebrows, the curve of your lips, the shape of your tongue, and the softness of your eyes.

It wasn’t purposefully, how he never saw if you were off having the best life you could. He was just bored and decided to go on Instagram. He was scrolling through the photos of his friends, even liking some of them when he stumbled upon a picture of you, wearing a shirt he gave you, whilst looking another man in adoration. He bit his lip, making himself believe that that was not his shirt and even if it was, you weren’t looking at another boy--you were looking at him. He lightly tapped on the photo, seeing as you tagged the prick that was in it. He chuckled, it was Leon Harris, a friend of yours that he always found annoying. How come he never recognised him? He saw how this Leon guy was looking at you while you were both dating. He frowned. How long have you been with this Harris prick? It was jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach but at the same time, it was the need to see more of you. He wanted to see how Leon Harris viewed you. Does he see you the way Harry does? Does he kiss you like Harry does? Does he hold you like Harry does? Was he a better man than Harry?

He sighed, scrolling through Leon’s photos. He’s a douchebag. Surely, my angel could do better than this. Harry was irked and irritated. Leon never posted photos of you--he only posted photos of football, gaming consoles, going out with the boys, and unnecessary flexing of his father’s money. Harry was annoyed. He felt his skin prickling with the thought of you being touched by Leon in ways he shouldn’t. That night, he drowned himself in putrid brown liquid. To think, he had all the money he could ever want in the world but still settled for convenience store-grade whiskey. Tomorrow would be a better day.

“Fuck,” he said once he woke up. He remembered the night before, him downing the bottle of whatever shit was in the glass bottle. His head was pounding and he knew that if you were here right now, you would take care of him. He always looked for you, even though he was the one who broke your heart. New Years Eve was coming around and people were already asking him to make an appearance in some parties. He wanted to, he really did but the risk of bumping into you in some of the parties were high. He wasn’t ready to see the face of the woman that haunted him every night for the past year. He lazily walked towards his en-suite, one of the many rooms that smelled like you. He made sure to buy the exact perfume you always wore and spray it around the house. Harry knew that it was unhealthy, holding onto every piece of you when he was the one who decided to end things. He was annoyed at himself and wanted nothing more than to call you but it will only stay like that, a wish. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and to call you because he knew you were hurting. Perhaps you weren’t hurting now, seeing as you were with Leon but maybe you’re still stuck on him, seeing as you were wearing his shirt and a chain around your neck with his heavy ‘H’ ring hanging. Who else was ‘H’ in your life? He couldn’t remember any. As he was taking a shower, he was confused. Was that photograph a sign to call you? Or was it you slapping him in the face because you would never come back to him?

-----

Harry decided to drop by Nick’s NYE party. He never got to see his old friend around and wanted nothing more than to confide in his friend. Nick was your friend too but he always belonged to Harry. He was Harry’s friend first, after all. He might see you there but at least, liquid courage would flow freely into his bloodstream, giving him all the confidence that he needs in order for him to talk to you again.

When Nick learned that Harry was coming to his party, he was ecstatic. It’s been awhile since he last saw Harry and he really missed him. After the break-up, he knew immediately that Harry was broken and in the seams--so were you. Nick invited you to his party, too and you weren’t sure if it was an act of kindness or generosity. Perhaps he was pitying you because all of you and Harry’s mutual friends left you after the break-up, a confirmation that they never really liked you. They only liked to be closer to Harry for his money, fame, and influence. Who wouldn’t want to be near the Harry Styles after all? Still, you knew Nick wasn’t like that. He genuinely liked you after Harry formally introduced the both of you to each other. You were practically joined by the hip whenever Harry was touring and it was nice--it was just you who decided to distance yourself from the friendship when you and Harry broke up, avoiding everything that was related to him.

You had just woken up when Leon knocked at your door. Through your break-up, Leon was there to console you. You tried dating each other but it just didn’t work out--Leon was not Harry and you were not a boy. So instead, you hired Leon to be your assistant, seeing as he was unemployed and was also your friend.

“Y/N if you don’t wake up the fucking door I will break this down!” Leon called from outside. Groggily, you made your way to the door of your London penthouse. You opened the door to reveal Leon, in what he would call an outfit that was out of his comfort zone. You understood, though, seeing as Leon was still inside the closet. The only people who knew he was gay was you and his sprinkling of boyfriends who also happened to be inside the closet. You understood, though. Leon’s family was strict when it comes to homosexuality so he had to act as a straight black boy--always going to the gym, making his Instagram as douche-y as possible, and so one. You felt for him, always asking him if you could do something for him. He would always say no telling you how much your friendship and the job you gave him was enough.

“What do you want?” you asked as you walked to your couch to continue your sleep.

“Remember? Nick Grimshaw is coming in today for a fitting,” Leon reminded. You sighed. You were a designer based in London but because of Harry, you had more artists come at you for designs. That was how you and Harry met, you being introduced by Harry L, his stylist, before his world tour for a couple of suits. He then came to you a few months after, asking for some pieces for his magazine covers and you agreed. Your heart ached at the memory of you and Harry playing with new pieces you came up with. Harry always loved your designs.

“Oh, yeah. Where was it again?” you asked, disoriented because you’d see Nick Grimshaw again. You’d be reminded of Harry again. It wasn’t as if you weren’t reminded of him all the time, though. The burning sensation of his gold ‘H’ ring hanging from your chest every time. It became your source of comfort and it was pathetic how you still held onto it for so long--it’s been almost a year. “It’s here, yeah?” you asked, to which Leon nodded. You nodded as well, limping towards your bathroom to be ready for the day.

“I’ll make coffee!” Leon shouted as you trudged to the comforts of your hot shower.

It was a few hours later when your doorbell rang. Nick’s custom silk pants and denim jacket was laying on your couch, ready to be worn by the celebrity. If it fit him, you’d be focusing on the apliques and the details that he wanted to have--they were quite easy actually. He just wanted to have his name in sparkling red embroidery, almost looking like something inspired from Gucci (Harry’s favourite, your heart hurt) but entirely different at the same time. Leon opened the door as you shuffled back and forth to make sure everything was dandy. “Y/n! Oh, how I missed you so much!” Nick greeted as soon as he saw you flip through the crystals that you would embed on the lining of his pants. You smiled and gave him a hug, to which he returned. He looked at Leon and greeted him as well. Leon only replied with a “hey, man” and if it weren’t for Nick not knowing that Leon was gay (they kissed many months ago), he would think that Leon was your boyfriend. “How are you, Nick?” you asked. “Really doing well but better because you’re coming to my party!” he answered. You frowned in confusion. “I’m not going,” you told him. “Harry would be there and I don’t really wanna see him.” “But Y/N…” he trailed. “It’s been so long since we last hung together! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me,” he pouted. Leon decided to exclude himself from the conversation going straight to the kitchen to get some refreshments for your guest. “Nick--” “Just come on to the party and all will be forgiven,” he cheekily grinned. In reality, he was never really mad at you. He understood why you decided to distance yourself from him but he still likes you as a person and wanted to be your friend. You sighed, nodding to his request. He squealed. “Now, where is it? I wanna fit through my special outfit now,” he said. You motioned him to the pieces lying on the couch. “So you wanted to have something hip and vintage, right? Well, here’s a pair of black silk pants. They would be embedded with diamond Swarovskis on the side. Then,” you trailed looking for the surprise that you wanted to give him. “Ah, here’s a special just for you. I worked on it by myself,” you said, showing Grimmy a large hand-made sewn on patch of his caricature. You also showed him ‘GRIMMY’ in a font quite similar to BBCRadio1 in sparkling red thread.

“Wow--I am floored! These are so good!” he exclaimed, carefully taking the patches from you. He observed them, amazed by how far you went onto the detailing of his face to his favourite shade of red.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “It’s nothing. You’re my friend and I wanted to make your day extra special,” you muttered. “I’ll have them sewn on before the event ASAP so you could get it tomorrow or the next if the blank pieces already fit you or the 30th if there are still alterations to be made,” Nick stood up immediately, trying on the pieces over his current clothes and declared that they were the perfect fit. You smiled at him, appreciating how much he appreciated your work.

“I’m really glad to be your friend, y/n. I know Harry will be there and I know what he did but if you ever need me for anything, just call an old man like me, even if it’s just for a laugh,” he said. “The pants and jacket are a perfect fit, by the way.”

-----------

It was the day of the gruelling New Years Eve party hosted by Harry’s friend--Nick Grimshaw. He wasn’t quite sure if you were coming but just in case, he wore the other half of his iconic ‘H’ ring--the gold Gucci ‘S’ ring on his pinky, the ring you gave him on his ring finger, as if telling you that he was still yours to take, and a couple of rings he bought from all around the world. He also wore a custom polo shirt from you, one that you collaborated on with his mum for his birthday. No designer brand could top off the beauty that he was wearing. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, after you see him tonight, you’d come back to him.

He sighed, anxious to see you—or not. From what he could recall, you distanced yourself from Grimmy. Maybe you rejected his invite, maybe not. Who knows what you were doing anymore? Why should he care? You were with Leon Harris. In his mind, the worst rebound you could ever get. You knew he hated Leon, that prick was a good for nothing douchebag. Harry went over to his collection of liquor, pouring himself a shot of vodka. Who was he to judge your tastes? It was him who broke things off, leaving you with nothing and no one. He knew that your mutual friends sided with him and left you. He groaned as he downed the shot, annoyed at himself. He misses you and he doesn’t know how to take you back.

“Leon, stop!” you groaned as he laid down your revealing party dresses. You were opting for a pair of floral pants and black shirt. Leon, however, disagreed with your choice.

“What? You should show him what he’s missing,” he shrugged.

“There’s nothing to show,” you muttered, taking a red dress off the bed to shut Leon up. You changed, not really minding if Leon was there, seeing as he wouldn’t even think about you that way.

“Look, I know you’ve been wallowing in your sadness since he ended things but it’s been a year, y/n. You should let things go,” your friend sighed as soon as he zipped you up. You sat on your vanity chair and took your curling iron.

“It’s not that easy,” you sighed as your curled the first strand of your hair. You spent the afternoon like that, fixing up your hair and putting on your makeup. Leon sighed, he knew that you were clearly affected by seeing your ex again. Leon was happy though, you maynit see it but you were clearly stressing about what version of you you would present to Harry. Leon was positive that this would end up in some make-up sex but who knows?

Harry arrived at the party earlier than you did. Knowing you, it probably took you hours to get ready for Leon. You loved doing that and you used to dress up for him. Sure, you were a secure woman but you still loved to make sure that your man’s eyes was on you and you only. Still, from a far, he would stare at you, the way he did when you were still together. He immediately made it a mission to look for Grimmy. He was porbably out there, entertaining guests but Harry wasn’t really in the mood to socialize. He was just here to get drunk and see you—if you were even coming.

“There he is!” Nick exclaimed as he saw Harry walk towards him. Nick’s friends looked at the poostar.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for the invite,” Harry smiled. Nick saw that Harry was clearly uneasy.

“Love the polo shirt but you’d probably want to look like you actually want to be here,” Nick said. “Y/N’s attending the party,”

“Could’ve told me that before I wore this shit,” Harry grumbled. He took a flute of champagne to one of the bartenders walking around and downed it immediately. Nick looked at him incredulously. “If I have to see her, I have to see her while I’m drunk,”

Nick sighed but still guided Harry to the special booth for Nick’s closest friends.

You stumbled in, a little tipsy in the bar to look for Nicky. Nick when you’re sober, Nicky when you consumed alcohol. You were with Leon who was holding your hand, just in case someone bumped in on you and you tripped. Leon sighed, obviously being sober in this situation. He was sure that Harry was here, seeing as there were shitty headlines such as HARRY STYLES WEAR Y/N Y/L/N’S COUTURE IN NICK GRIMES ANNUAL NYE PARTY.

Leon saw it though. He was wearing the special polo shirt you and his mother designed. He knew the intricacies of the polo shirt because on your first and last attempt to date, you rambled about Harry. You told him that instead of the signature tag of the customers with Mademoiselle or Monsieur as prefix, you opted to embroider my love, Harry--a one of a kind polo shirt. Leon has seen him wear the said shirts in Harry’s appearances, even getting the nickname ‘Harry’s special’ by many of his fans.

“Y/N!” Nick exclaimed as he saw you and Leon. You looked at him and immediately sobered up, seeing as Harry was latched onto his shoulder. You looked at Harry, suddenly aware of his presence and your self. He was looking at Leon with jealousy and you knew it, Harry never liked Leon and you walk in here with him in a dress like yours? It was killing him.

“Y/N, Harris.” your ex-boyfriend acknowledged. “Harry,” you nodded. Leon looked at him, aware that your ex was probably killing your friend in his mind. “I see that you have replaced me so easily, y/n,” Harry slurred. He was pretty sure he won’t remember shit tomorrow so he decided to just go with the flow. “Ha! See, Nick? Liquid courage,” he chuckled as he took a swig off of his beer bottle. “Alright, Harry. That’s enough,” you interjected, trying to take the bottle away from Harry. He clearly drank a little too much and you know that when Harry was drunk, he has the tendency to say things he didn’t mean at all. It’s not even a defense or anything, he just does it. “No, you’re not my girlfriend anymore. You can’t control me. Why don’t you go be with that Harris prick? Honestly, angel? You could do way better than that wanker, yeah?” he says, pointing his bottle to Leon who was busy eyeing down Nick.

“Harry--give me that bottle.” you said, clearly annoyed with how things are currently going. Why was he being difficult?

“Do you still love me, y/n? Look, I’m wearing the polo shirt you gave me,” he says, twirling like a little girl showing off her new outfit. “I see you’re wearing my ‘H’ ring, too. I saw it the other day...Instagram. That must mean something, yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. He surrendered the bottle to you.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere so you could sit and clear your head, yeah?” you asked, holding his arm. “Leon,” you called to your friend. “I’ll just help Harry clear his mind. I’ll find you later, yeah? I’m sorry,” you said. Leon only nodded, mouthing a ‘sure’ before talking to a friend Nick introduced him to.

“If you don’t love me, you wouldn’t take care of me like this. Remember when you would do this lot? I miss it,” he rambled. You weren’t sure if he was being serious enough but you decided that either way, your heart was hurting. A silence fell upon the both of you as you sat on the booth.

“Harry, stay here yeah? I’ll see if someone could get you some water,” you said, standing up from the couch. Harry grabbed your hand.

“Please, stay. I promise I won’t say anything anymore. Just...stay here, love? Please? It’s been a while since you were this close to me and tonight, let’s just do things like the old times, yeah?” he asked. You were torn, so fucking torn with what he was saying. Wasn’t he the one who asked for a break? It’s been a year and you missed him. You really do.

“Harry,” you started, staring at his lips. You missed how soft it was, you missed how he kissed you. “Can we, can we kiss?” you asked. Harry sobered up. Were you really asking him to kiss you? He sat up straight looking at you. He inched closer until he could feel your heavy breaths. Your chest was heaving and you were itching for him to get closer. He smiled, taking your chin with his ring clad fingers until your lips met. It was slow and nice, two lovers yearning to be with each other again but soon enough, with too much yearning and passion, your kiss became heated. You didn’t notice it but Harry’s hands soon found your arms, caressing your bare arms up and down, the coldness of his rings against your warm skin a pleasuring contrast.

“Fuck,” he breathed as soon as you both pulled away. “Do you want to take this somewhere?” he asked. You nodded, mind too hazy from what just happened. You collected your bag that was left beside you.

“Let’s use the back door and walk discreetly, yeah?” you asked, Harry was never one to bring drivers during the holidays and so were you. You were intoxicated so you both didn’t want to drive. “Then, let’s just hail a car or something when we’re a little too far away,” you said. “I’ll just text Leon,” you added as you unlocked your phone.

“W-wait, Leon,” Harry rasped.

“You don’t have to worry about him. I’m single and I’m not his type,” you breathed as your grabbed his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should believe you, but nodded anyway. He was too desperate--all he wanted was to feel you close. You both made a beeline to the backdoor and exited, silently thanking the Lord for the absence of paparazzi. You walked, an awkward silence falling between the both of you. Still, your minds were hazy with lust, yearning, and love. You were a little far away when you hailed a taxi, telling the driver to go straight to Harry’s place, seeing as his house was nearer than yours. The both of you were obviously itching to touch each other but you refrained, you didn’t want anyone to see and complicate things.

The moment you arrived at Harry’s door (thank God he cleaned), your mouth was on his. This time, your kiss was more daring and passionate, all curfew thrown outside the window. You moaned as he trailed down to your neck, your back against the wall. He was sucking and licking the spot where your neck and shoulder blades met, your spot as he would call it. You were sure that he would leave a mark in the morning but you didn’t care. You were tugging at his hair, something that he always liked, to encourage him to go lower.

“Come,” he rasped as he took your hand to his bedroom. You both tiptoed in the dark hallways of his massive house until your back met the mattress in his bedroom. “How do you think I feel once I saw you in this red dress?” he asked. You weren’t able to answer his question as he kissed you again, only this time, his hand was playing with the thin straps of your silk dress. He lowered it.

Meanwhile, your hands were on his polo shirt, carefully unbuttoning the material off of his torso. Once you were able to take off the buttons, your hands met his tattooed chest. He moaned at the contact.

“Unzip me?” you asked as soon as he moved his lips down to the skin visible on your chest. He sucked your skin as you raised you body, his hands going underneath you to unzip the tight red dress off your body. He stopped for a moment, looking at your naked chest.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he moaned as he put his mouth on your nipple. You arched your chest towards him, his ring clad fingers kneading your other breast. Your hands were inching towards your underwear, nothing really special because you weren’t expecting this. “Ah, ah, ah,” he taunted, the moment he felt your fingers go lower.

“Harry—“

“No, let me do it, love,” he whispered. His mouth latched on to your other nipple, only this time, his fingers were trailing down to your clothed center. Your hips grinded on his hands, the rings giving you more texture. You were whimpering, begging for your ex-boyfriend to touch you. He chuckled a little bit, pushing your underwear to the sides before teasing your clit. You grounded your hips again, and Harry gave in, flicking the button in between your legs.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “more, Harry…”

“You want this? You want me to fill you up?” he asked, breathy. Quite frankly, his manhood was penting up in his pants. You nodded and Harry moaned, completely removing your underwear. Your hands trailed to his pants, massaging him through his fabric. Your hands immediately unbuttoned his trousers, and he stood up, removing it alone with his boxers. Your hands immediately found his dick, rubbing the precum all over before you pushed Harry onto the bed.

“What do you want me to do, Harry?” you asked seductively.

“Ride me,” he says. He bucked his hips towards your hands, clearly wanting more. “Come one, love,” he encouraged. You sat in his lap, taking his dick in between your hands, rubbing it on your clit for a few times before inserting the tip inside you. “I missed this, fuck,” he moaned. You moaned too, sitting lower until his length was filling you up. “I think you had your fun already,” he taunted, flipping you over. He leaned onto you as he pounded into you a few times.

“Harry, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your hand went to your clit, rubbing it as Harry went in and out of you.

“You just can’t get enough can you?” he asked. Your other hand and legs were around him, your nails digging onto his back. You nodded. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, love,” he said as he pounded into you harder. His hand was immediately on your nipple, pinching and tugging it. It was sensory overload, his hands on your breast, yours on your clit, him inside you, your nails onto him. He moaned, putting his mouth on yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You both felt his thrusts going sloppier and sloppier as your walls started to clench.

“Harry, I’m cumming, fill me up...cum inside me,” you moaned. The popstar only gruntled, obviously bathing in your wetness.

“Cum, princess. Cum on my cock, cum with me,” he moaned as you both came, his cum filling you up and your walls clenching around him.

“I love you,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t notice but he did, stopping for a moment, looking at you. “Let’s talk about it later,” you smiled.

He thrusted for a few more times before removing his girth inside you. He immediately looked for a towel to wipe you with it and you waited. He always did this—you waited, basking in the afterglow of sex.

—————-

It was 4 am in the morning and you were both naked underneath the sheets. You didn’t talk about your confession, sleeping immediately once he wiped down the mess on your legs and he sighed.

It was 4 am and he was sound asleep, his tattooed arm wrapped around your torso. You removed it carefully and he shuffled in his sleep. You watched him, tears springing in your eyes before silently dressing up and tiptoeing until you were outside his room. He didn’t notice it, too sound asleep. You were silently sobbing as you buckled the straps of your black heels, calling for a car. It took a few minutes of you waiting outside his gates, the cold breeze raising goosebumps on your skin.

That was how you spent your New Years Eve and New Years, having sex with your ex and then, regretting it hours later because you told him you loved him.

PART TWO?

happy new years! i hope this is the first / last fic you’ve read for the decade. thanks again! xxxx

taglist:

@giitterysuits / @floral-suits @bree082 @dezzym17 @bouncebackbyers @lolapuffs @belleamoree @demolition-lovers-blog @gorgeouslygrace @styledharry @nervousshoeghostmoney

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jiyeong · 5 years

Text

bmblb flowershop au

been CRAVING this for weeks so i wrote one on twitter and im gonna do a post here too so i don’t lose it in my 43k tweets in case i ever do anything more with it (’: but here’s my bee flowershop au pls enjoy. it’s set in late spring/early summer

yang, age 18 and freshly out of highschool, gets her driver’s license and immediately asks for a motorcycle. taiyang gives her the keys to the family minivan instead and tells her if she wants a deathmobile, she can get a job and buy it herself

she’s walking down the main shopping street looking for job opportunities when she sees a cute girl putting up a “help wanted” sign outside a flowershop. it’s blake. the cute girl is blake.

it’s a delivery job and she applies immediately and gets it mostly because she’s the only one who applied, but ironically also because the minivan is big enough to hold large bouquets, has a 5star safety rating, and also does not go faster than 35mph so its extremely unlikely that she will be in any accidents lol

blake’s family’s shop is very popular, and they do a lot of weddings and big events. it’s an on-call job and she gets called in maybe once or twice a week. it’s always blake calling her in, and they always have a nice chat before she has to go deliver the flowers

she finds out blake is the owner’s only daughter, so she’s probably off limits so like ok. disappointing but whatever it’s easy money and she gets to talk to a hot girl every time she goes to work so this is fine

but then she starts getting some really weird deliveries...

the first one is to a wrestling tournament at some prep school. it’s for a boy (sun wukong, the delivery slip says) who giggles like a little schoolgirl as soon as he sees her coming with the flowers, and before he’ll sign for the delivery, starts talking to her about sports and her workout routines, etc

he’s a nice guy, they talk for a bit, and she asks if he got the flowers because he won and he says no, it’s the nationals and he made third place. the whole time he’s grinning like it’s some kind of inside joke, so that’s what she figures it is.

when she goes back to the flowershop, she tells blake about it, about how weird it was delivering to a wrestling tourney of all things- and she’s laughing too.

yang mentions looking at the delivery slip and that she’s never heard of the flowers before. this gets blake GOING.

she tells her that they’re ranunculus flowers, more commonly known as buttercups in some other flowershops, and that they symbolize attraction, that you find someone charming.

“huh. guess he has some big fan out there,” yang laughs.

“yeah,” blake smiles softly, “guess so.”

the second time it happens, it’s a delivery to some small town fashion magazine publisher. this time, blake mentions the flowers before yang leaves.

it is a mixture of carnations,lilies, and white orchids, and they all symbolize, to some degree, beauty. yang supposes it’s fitting considering she’s going to a fashion magazine, i guess??? this makes blake laugh a bit. yang thinks her laugh is really very cute.

the flowers are for a velvet scarlatina. yang notices her fidgeting as she drops them off in her office. it’s not a nervous fidget, more like she’s excited but is a bit too shy to say and doesn’t know how to express it, maybe?

so yang asks. velvet’s surprised by the question, but she smiles and tells her anyways. she’s just been promoted to lead photographer, she’ll have an entire photo editing department to lead starting tomorrow, and it’s probably the biggest thing that’s ever happened to her. it’s exciting! she’s excited! yang congratulates her, she’s genuinely happy for this girl. she seems like a hard worker.

as yang turns to leave, velvet stops her, holds up a camera slowly, and softly asks if she can take yang’s picture. to test out her new lens, she adds.

it’s a little weird, but okay; artsy people are always weird, yang’s smokin hot on a normal day, AND she’s having an incredible hair day today, if she does say so herself. so she agrees. before she leaves, velvet hands her a small rabbit’s foot, “for good luck.”

this time, yang tells both blake and ruby/weiss about it. blake seems amused, but doesn’t say much, and ruby immediately demands to see the rabbit’s foot charm.

while ruby is occupied by the charm, weiss asks yang how her new job is going. yang gets stuck talking about blake, how cute she is and how smart she is and how nice she is. her smile and her face and her voice.

at this point even ruby’s tuned back in.

so, they do what any good sister/sister’s weirdly obsessive girlfriend would do. they tag along the next time she gets called in to work.

ruby and weiss immediately drift to a section of shop on their own, distracted. ruby’s picking out a bouquet of roses for weiss (ugh, yang thinks) as yang walks to the counter where blake sits. this time the bouquet is simple, made of only one flower: gardenias.

“it symbolizes purity and love,” blake tells her.

“wow i feel like 90% of these flowers symbolize purity and love,” yang jokes. it makes blake chuckle, so very softly, and yang feels like a hammer has dropped in her chest. love. oh no.

“probably accurate. gardenias though, if you were wishing to send someone your undying love anonymously, you would send them gardenias,” blake muses, eyes drifting over to ruby and weiss making a fuss in the corner. “it’s a symbol for a secret love.”

yang’s head is screaming. oh no.

yang ends up leaving (ditching) ruby and weiss there with blake.

the flowers are being sent to the same prep school as the wrestling tournament, but instead of the gym she’s headed for the locker rooms. there’s a sign for a track meet today, and the flowers are for an ilia amitola, some star on the team, yang guesses, as she walks through the school.

ilia is the only one still in there, and yang senses the hostility immediately.

ilia absolutely GRILLS her, there’s no other way to describe it. she asks her question after question about her tastes, her hobbies, her personal life. it’s a little intimidating, and yang is still sort of distracted from her revelation at the flowershop (oh nO) so she answers them all.

ilia’s quiet for a bit at the end before signing the slip and letting yang go.

“don’t fuck it up,” she says as yang’s leaving the room. what the hell???

when she gets home she immediately storms into ruby’s room.

“i think im in love with her,” she’s freaking out. pacing. weiss is in there too, because of course she is, and they’re both just staring at her blankly.

apparently, it was obvious.

“I don’t know why you’re freaking out,” weiss huffs. “when was the last time you dated a girl? like, actually, with feelings??”

“shut UP weiss you’re not invited to this conversation. ruby, sweet ruby, my wonderful adorable baby sister with a strange addiction to model guns and extremely violent shooting games, how the fuck do i get over the cute flower girl that makes me feel like i want to bash my head against the concrete??”

“uhhh well, for one, i think weiss has great ideas so im re-inviting her into the conversation. (”thank you,” weiss huffs, because she was raised to be polite even while offended) and two, just, like, uhhh don’t???”

they convince yang to confess to blake. but yang’s like ok it’s been a while since ive had actual, swear-to-god, feelings, so she wants to do something ROMANTIC. something BIG. something GAY.

yang’s saved up a nice chunk of cash from her job - and okay, who needs a motorcycle when you could get a girlfriend? and like, okay, blake works at the shop, so she’s not quite sure if flowers are an appropriate idea, but she’s literally always reading books on flower meanings and flower dictionaries and looking at natgeo magazines etc so she watches shia lebeouf’s just do it video and why the hell not

but she has to do it right - and she asks the only flower experts she knows other than blake. blake’s parents. she wants to get their okay as well anyways - she’d quit if she had to - so it’s like two birds one stone. but yang’s been charming them since her interview, and they’re almost strangely enthusiastic about helping set up their only daughter.

she gets weiss to place the order, because ruby can’t stop giggling on the phone. it’s a HUGE bouquet - full of every flower that symbolizes love that mr & mrs belladonna recommended her. it’s almost embarrassing listening to weiss list the flowers and knowing that blake is the one receiving the order.

the bouquet is so huge that yang insists that she needs help carrying it. conveniently, ruby and weiss are busy doing something gay, so they aren’t free to help her. blake raises her eyebrow when her parents send her off with yang to help. yang thinks it’s very attractive.

the address is a meadow right on the outskirts of town. lots of rolling hills, lots of swaying trees, the sky is clear and you can already see the moon even though it isn’t nighttime yet. it’s all very scenic, a perfect wedding venue. it’s late afternoon when they leave the shop.

“preparing for a wedding so late in the day is so strange,” blake comments on the way there, playing with the radio stations like she owns the van. it makes yang’s heart clench. can you die early from too much feeling? how awful. “what eccentric people, to be having their ceremony so late at night.”

“aha... y-yeah, eccentric people for sure,” yang sweats.

they park on the hill, and there’s no one there. blake steps out of the van, confused. she’s looking at the sunset and it’s as picture perfect as she thought it would be, but where is everyone?

and when she turns around, yang is holding the very large bouquet perfectly fine on her own. she almost shoves it into blake’s face.

“they’re for you,” yang blurts out immediately. “i’m the eccentric people.”

blake’s all ??? for a second. and then it sinks in and she’s laughing because, “do you know how much these flowers cost? did you literally spend all your money on a bouquet of flowers for me, a florist’s daughter who is literally around flowers all day?”

turns out blake has also been spending her money on bouquets for all of her friends uncharacteristically often, with their consent of course, just to get the cute new delivery girl into the store more so she could see her and maybe have a chat. they’ve been returning the flowers with small favors of their own - non-consensual blake makes sure to point out - namely, yang’s favorite workout spots, some really cute not-at-all-candid pictures of yang, and what basically amounted to, yup u guessed it, an entire autobiography of yang herself. god.

they kiss as the sun’s last rays are fading, laughing, on a hill almost an hour’s drive away in a rusty old minivan, and over a ridiculously unnecessary amount of flowers. it’s pretty fuckin gay.

#rwby #bumbleby #headcanons #that's my tag for long au posts like this lol #very GAY very INDULGENT #very long #also they're both poor because flowers are freakin expensive guys jeez #bee flowershop au #COMPLETE with flower meanings that i literally googled as i was writing the original tweets #god if i could write i'd write THIS and also the harry potter au that i am also typing up in bullet points instead of actual sentences.#writing is HARD and i appreciate every single person on ao3 thank u so much for my life

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angelicthor · 5 years

Text

billion dollar man - part 2

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

You were completely stunned by the man in front of you, Tony fucking Stark; The most infamous billionaire playboy there ever was. Stark had inherited his company from his father, it was originally weapons manufacturing and Tony had transformed it from a million-dollar company to the biggest weapons corporation in the world, but he had since abandoned that line of work after he was held hostage by terrorists in Afghanistan.

The entire event had been covered by every news station in America, there wasn’t a day that went by without every channel providing an update on the situation, although most had given up hope for him after a few days. But against all odds, Stark had actually managed to survive and escape, his perspective entirely changed from the experience, vowing to never create weapons again after seeing what they were used for. Instead he focused his entire company into clean energy and honestly, the man had created some revolutionary stuff.

You had always considered the entire change of heart to be quite noble, it takes a big man to admit when he’s wrong and Stark had been very wrong. Not only that but the whole world was against him when he did it, stocks were dropping from his company, high-level employees threatened to walk and, according to Babble Babe, he lost a good number of friends over the whole fiasco. And yet, he stuck by his beliefs and actually made it work. You admired his integrity.

His business, however, didn’t make nearly as many headlines as the man himself and he happened to by Babble Babe’s favourite topic. You could guarantee that after every event New York had, the next day Tony Stark was involved in some scandal or another, he was an infamous womanizer who was forever been photographed with a different woman – or two or three – on his arm every time he was seen. Which led you to the question: why the hell was he doing this?

Your nerves amplified, your mouth drying as you released you were on a date with none other than the notorious billionaire himself – what the hell were you going to do? In you star-struck daze, you completely forgot why you were here, needing to impress him in order to solidify your arrangement.

Realising you were just standing there shamelessly gawking at the man in front of you, you hurriedly took your seat across from him, cheeks burning at the smirk that pulled at his lips and the way his eyes roamed over you appreciatively.

“You were right: I definitely know who you are,” You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief at the situation you were in.

The chuckle that left his mouth was warm, washing over you like a calming wave, “And I was certainly right about wanting to see you in person – gotta tell you darlin’, I am not disappointed.”

You formally introduced yourselves to each other, making mindless small talk whilst the waiter took your orders, after your food was sent off for Tony leant back in his chair, regarding you with an inquiring gaze. Squirming under the intensity residing in his twinkling brown eyes, you finally relented with a sigh, “What is it?”

He seemed amused by your candour and you became sure it was something he wasn’t used to, people in his world sugar-coated everything to the point of it being nonsensical and you just didn’t have it within you to do that; you were blunt and you appreciated people returning said bluntness. You began to wonder if this was going to work at all.

“Are you always so direct?” He arched an eyebrow at you, humour evident in his tone.

“Pretty much, yeah – I like knowing where I stand with people and I make sure people know where they stand with me; I hate playing the guessing game, it’s pointless and tiring and is a complete waste of time, is it gonna be a problem?” Your brows furrowed with concern, sure you’d been talking with a few other potential ‘daddies’ on the site but Tony had been your first choice, even before you found out who he was. You didn’t want your chances to fly away just because you spoke your mind unapologetically.

“Actually no, if anything, my opinion of you just went up. I hate people pander over me, there aren’t enough people in my life who appreciate a direct answer. I was just wondering if you wanted to address the elephant in the room, you know, the fact that this is pretty much an interview for me to become your sugar daddy,” He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively and you couldn’t stop the boisterous laugh that burst from your lips at the gesture.

“Sure thing, where do you want to start?” You questioned him playfully, your lips curled in a smirk, on that he mirrored immediately and the atmosphere between the two of you shifted, electricity filling the air between you.

The static ambience between the two of you dimmed when the waiter brought your food over, the both of you thanking them before they were on their way, leaving you two to eat and discuss what exactly was wanted and expected from the arrangement.

“So, why exactly do you want a sugar daddy? I’m pretty sure it isn’t for the sex, a girl with your face wouldn’t struggle in that department,” You shook your head at his humour, you could see where he got his reputation from.

“I need one for the sugar part, a pretty face may get you laid but it sure as hell doesn’t pay your bills, of which mine are piling. Plus, this jig pays a pretty penny, I figured I could save enough doing this to buy a share of law-firm, become a partner somewhere ya know? Finally get to do the job I worked my ass off for in college instead of being stuck waiting tables for the rest of my life,” You sighed out, disappointed with the way your life had turned out, how the hard work you’d put into your education and career weren’t paying off because you didn’t have the funds to get you through the door.

Tony nodded in understanding, mulling over your words before he spoke: “So this isn’t a permanent thing? You aren’t going to bounce from one rich pa to pop until you get yourself a hefty retirement fund? You have plans for afterward?”

“Yeah, this isn’t how I wanted to do it but I’m getting kinda desperate. Why, did you want a professional?” You joked with him, pondering where his line of enquiry was leading.

“No, no, you’re actually exactly what I was looking for,” You arched an eyebrow in question to him, shooting him a dubious look, waiting for him to continue, “Look, I’m gonna be straight with you here. The board of Stark Industries is threatening to have me removed as CEO if I don’t show signs of stability, the risks I took remodelling it still don’t sit well with a lot of them and with my frankly reckless social life, they’re beginning to think I’m not capable to run the company. So, I need a fake significant other and to keep my image free of scandals until this all clears over; the only problem is I’m terrible at relationships – they just aren’t for me, but this, this I can do.”

The playfulness that had surrounded him all night suddenly vanished as he spoke about his company problems, the business he had spent so long on, what his father had passed down to him was being taken away from him. You couldn’t imagine how hard that must be for him, to have everything he’s worked so hard on be taken away from him because of the narrow-minded opinions of a select few, you couldn’t help but feel for him, he certainly didn’t deserve this. There was something you still didn’t understand though.

“But why get a sugar baby? You’re you; you could get a date anywhere any time – hell you normally have about three, why bother going through all of this?”

Letting out a deep sigh, he shook his head, trying to figure out how to phrase this without sounding like a complete tool: “The girls I normally date are… nice, sure. But to spend more than 24 hours with them would be mind-numbing in ways you don’t understand, to say that they aren’t of any substance is a major understatement. If this whole fake-relationship is going to work I’m going to need someone I can spend long periods of times with without wanting to stick a screwdriver in my eye.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped at his exaggerated annoyance, watching him pull the most ridiculous expressions at the thought of being forced to spend prolonged time with his usual type. “So, they’re more of a one night only kind of arrangement then?”

Tony smirked at your words, sipping on the whiskey in his glass before responding, “Sure, but that’s not the only problem. I couldn’t trust those girls with what I’m asking you for here, they’d obviously have to know it was fake because I do not want to real relationship and the moment they found out they’d sell me out to the nearest gossip magazine. What I need is trust and a mutual understanding, I need-”

“You need someone who is willing to scratch your back if you scratch theirs - with discretion of course,” You interrupted him, finally understanding why the infamous Tony Stark was going to so much trouble for a date.

“Exactly, and with you wanting a career after this, I can assume you want to be as scandal-free as possible to make the best impression on your first day. We can part ways after this with a hearty handshake and no hard feelings.”

You mulled over his words; this was too perfect to be true. You’d get to live stress-free over your bills, get to taste the high-life that New York had to over, Tony wasn’t a creepy old-guy who just wanted to fuck and run back to his high-school sweetheart, you could save enough money to actual buy a partnership into a law firm, and retain your professionalism once it was over, no one would even know it happened. You honestly couldn’t believe your luck but you sure as hell weren’t going to sit back and watch your golden opportunity pass you by.

“It sounds like a good deal to me Tony, that is if I passed the interview of course,” Your voice took on a sultry tone towards the end, looking up at him through your lashes and watching as his notorious lady-killer smirk donned his face. You understood why he could get as many women to jump between the sheets with him as he did; that smirk was a dangerous thing.

Leaning across the small table, he leaned on his hands that were clasped in front of his face, his eyes showing a mischievous glint, “Well, there are a few more things I need to see before I can wholly agree to this arrangement, that is if you are still interested?”

“I’m still very much interested Mr. Stark,” your voice dripped with allure, you knew what he was getting at and you were more than willing to play along.

The waiter once again came over, noticing your empty plates, and asked if either of you would care to look at the dessert menu, you both declined choosing instead to have one more drink before you headed home.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

You kinked a brow at him, nodding at him as you sipped at the wine in your glass, “Yeah, why do you want to meet up again? Do you have another interview arranged Mr. Stark?”

Tony shook his head at your teasing tone, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes gleamed with mirth. “Oh, you are going to be trouble in all the best ways,” You couldn’t help the playful eyeroll that occurred as he appreciatively let his gaze ravish your body, nibbling at his lip as he did, “But yes, two really – I need to see how you do in a more… intense environment, you know people coming up to us and talking about the regular bullshit of the day. I need to know you can keep up appearances so to speak, we’re going to have to do a lot of these if we go ahead. There’s a charity dinner tomorrow evening at the plaza, all the usual crowd will be there, seems like a perfect opportunity.”

You nodded your head in agreement, understanding why he needed to do this, you couldn’t just take any company to these events and you only hopped that you could pull it off – God knows you had no idea what to actual do at such formal events.

“I’m guessing you’re wearing the nicest thing you own right now?” Your back straightened as for the first time since you’d walked in, you felt you were being scrutinised by Tony Stark. “It’s not a judgement sugar – well maybe a little – I only asked so I can have some options brought over to your apartment tomorrow morning, I think I have a pretty good eye if I do say so myself.”

You laughed at him, somehow not doubting his words, Tony was a man of taste and you were certain whatever would be delivered to you would be classy and elegant.

“So, what’s part two of the interview Mr. Stark?” You looked up at him through your lashes, a small smirk on your face, knowing what he was going to say. He was paying for it after all…

Leaning back in his chair, Tony regarded you for a moment before a dark chuckle left his lips, “The second interview is of a more physical nature.”

“Got any outfit requirements for that particular stage of the interview Mr. Stark?” You couldn’t help but tease him, not knowing how exactly he was bringing out this side of you but going with it regardless.

“Oh, I do like you, I definitely made the right choice here,” He murmured, trademark smirk stretching across his lips, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on the sight of them. Noticing your empty glass of wine and throwing a few more bills on the table as a tip, Tony stood, offering you his hand and leading you out of the restaurant, ignoring the hushed whispers as you were seen leaving with him, “Come on, I’ll have my driver take you home.”

Pulling you through the bustling pedestrians on the street, Tony lead you to the sleek black car parked directly outside the restaurant, the man standing outside the vehicle opening the back door for you as you and Tony approached.

“Happy, this is Y/N – Y/N this is Happy, my driver and personal security. If all goes well, you two will be seeing a lot of each other,” Tony introduced you to each other and Happy held out his hand for you to take, a warm smile on his face, he sure seemed to live up to his name.

“Nice to meet you Miss,” He nodded his head in greeting.

“Oh, no please call me Y/N, I insist.”

“Hap, we’re taking Y/N home to Brooklyn,” Tony gestured for you to get into the car as he gave Happy your address before joining you, the door shutting behind him as Happy jogged to the driver’s seat.

The car pulled away, heading into the busy New York traffic and you began to think about what tomorrow would bring. The feeling of Tony’s hand on your bare thigh brought you out of your thoughts, the simple touch sending a jolt of electricity through you that you couldn’t decipher.

Turning your head, your eyes lock with Tony’s who was already watching you. Now that you were much closer to him, you could see the little details of his features that had gone unnoticed before; the lines around his eyes that were a small indicator of his age, the different shades of brown that made up the colour of his eyes, the way his lower lashes seemed so damn prominent, the small sprinkling of silver hair in his perfectly groomed beard.

Once again, you found your gaze lingering on his lips, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and taste them. But you shook the thought from your head, now wasn’t the time.

“I’ll have your dresses brought over in the morning, probably some shoes too – You know what I’ll just get you a whole outfit, you’re going to want to accessorise right?”

“Wait – dresses, as in plural? How many do I need?” You were kind of shocked that he was so willing to buy you so much even though it wasn’t exactly official yet. Hell, he’d just bought you dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in New York without even batting an eye, it was a concept you really weren’t familiar with, being so unconcerned with money.

Tony merely arched a brow at you, “Well yeah, it’s nice to have options. Just make sure you’re ready by 7:30, I’ll send Happy to come pick you up.”

You felt the car come to a stop and realised you were outside your apartment building, “Yeah ok, ready by 7:30 - I can do that.”

Happy walked over to open your door for you but before you could leave, Tony was pulling a card out of the inside pocket of his jacket, handing it over to you before telling you to ring if there was anything else you needed. Turning the card over in your fingers, you saw the logo of Stark industries imprinted into the black card, the gold letters catching in the low light of the car, a phone number visible under them.

“I will. I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then Mr. Stark.” You had no idea why you did it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, leaning towards him to press a lingering kiss against his cheek.

You heard the deep chuckle that Tony emitted as you left the car, bidding Happy goodbye as he walked you to your building door, making sure everything was ok before going back to the car.

You entered your apartment with a sigh, kicking off your heels at the door before a disbelieving laugh bubbled from your throat. You had just had dinner with Tony Stark. Tony Stark wanted to be your sugar daddy. You were going to one of the high-class events at the Plaza tomorrow with Tony Stark.

How the hell had this happened?

Your whirring thoughts were broken by the ding of your phone, an alert coming through from Babble Babe, you rolled your eyes at the notification on your phone before opening the app.

Spotted: Tony Stark and new girl leaving one of NYC’s hottest restaurants. Where do we place the bets on how long this one lasts? Good luck new girl, dating a Stark is a dangerous game to play xoxo

The photo of you was of your back – Thank God – but you were amazed at how damn fast this trashy gossip site worked. God knows how they would react tomorrow. Pushing the feeling of dread aside, you stripped out of your dress and fell into the welcoming warmth of your bed, your final thoughts of the public appearance you and Tony were going to be making tomorrow.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark series #iron man x reader #angelicthorwrites

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the-prince-of-professors · 4 years

Text

@tremendousdetectivetheorist at last, here is Part II of your story!! 🎻💌 I’m sorry it took so long, and once again this is not super polished and edited, but it’s already been so long and also, I hope it can cheer up your evening :) <333

(Part I)

Watson watched as the two lovers greeted each other, decided his presence would not be missed, and left the room in search for the conservatory. It was not difficult to find the set of beautiful, eye-catching glass doors leading into it, as they were close to the main entrance; but what business Holmes would have in there, Watson could not fathom. Nevertheless, he entered, and followed a stone path to the left past some exotic bushes and plants with colourful flowers, until he found the second palm tree as Holmes had instructed. Here he sat down on the small bench beneath it, and, closing his eyes to the soft sound of a babbling fountain somewhere nearby, he waited.

His thoughts effortlessly wandered to the case at hand, and to the two unlikely lovers involved in it. Before his inner eye he saw once more Stevens’ face as Webster walked up to him and placed his hands on his shoulders; the way his stern features softened when tender fingers stroke his cheek, and the way they both seemed to melt into each others’ presence, relieved not so much by the prospect of a solution as by seeing it through together. It was an unlikely love to the eyes of the outsider, that it was; but one peek behind the curtain, and who would ever again doubt its fierce authenticity?

He was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, and a breath in his ear; and he opened his eyes to find those of Holmes twinkling at him.

“Did I startle you?” asked Holmes.

“I was only dreaming.”

Holmes sat down next to him. For a moment or two neither spoke. Holmes hummed a quiet tune while idly inspecting his surroundings, and Watson patiently waited for some explanation for this odd meeting place.

“Are we waiting for someone?” he asked at last.

“Not to my knowledge,” Holmes answered.

“Then why are we here?”

And Holmes met his eye with a look Watson could not remember ever seeing in him before: it was as if every line on his face had smoothened at once, and his eyes had grown young with innocence, and his smile was that of a secretive school boy—and he lowered his gaze, and pointed to a spot on the worn and scratched piece of wood on which they were seated. Watson bent forward, squinting at the marks barely visible among less deliberate damages.

“S.H.”, he read, then looked up. “You?”

“Yes, Watson,” Holmes said with a chuckle.

“I don’t understand.”

“This house used to belong to my dear uncle and aunt. And this,” he continued, looking at his surroundings with a smile, “was my very own sanctuary, whenever I would visit them in town. I could sit here for hours; scribbling, or reading, or thinking. Webster’s father bought the place no more than ten years ago. I heard he had showed a great deal of appreciation for the conservatory upon buying, and I guessed he would have kept it much as it was: I am happy to see I was right.”

Watson looked at him, trying to imagine Holmes the boy hiding out under the protective leaves, lying stretched out with his nose in a book on this very bench, marking his initials in it with a penknife.

It was surprisingly easy.

“It is a very peaceful place,” he said, and Holmes met his eye.

“It was the safest place on Earth, in my world,” he said, and Watson could not decide whether the faint smile on his lips was one of sorrow, or of happiness.

So he took his hand, and pressed it firmly.

----- ♥ -----

It was again sunset, and again the two men made their way up the path to the house that had belonged to Holmes’ late relatives. Once again, the door opened almost immediately upon knocking, and Steven’s stern figure became visible. He showed the gentlemen into the morning room, where Webster was waiting—this time seated in the velvety chair, and tapping his fingers anxiously on the armrests.

“Mr Holmes!” he exclaimed, jumping up from the chair, “and Doctor Watson! Oh, am I glad to see you! It is a beautiful day, a happy day indeed—I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am!” And he shook both of their hands fervently, grinning with his whole face.

“I take it you have had a talk with Mrs Chaillard,” said Holmes.

“Indeed, why she left in a rage not an hour ago! There is a passionate woman, if there ever was one, and she was most upset—most upset! But I need not tell you more, since you already must know every detail of this business!”

“On the contrary,” Holmes smiled, “apart from setting the operation in motion, we know very little of its actual execution. Now,” he continued, taking a seat upon the divan, “it is clear that the solution proved successful; but if you don’t mind, I would very much like to hear the details.”

Webster looked wide-eyed at Watson, who nodded in agreement; and he clasped his hands together in excitement.

“Well! Then please sit down, Doctor,” he said, “and I will gladly tell you! She came her in the morning, as she had promised, asking me one last time if I would not accept her ‘most generous offer’. I did as you told me yesterday: I stuck to my initial decision and fully and wholeheartedly refused her.

‘My heart is not for sale,’ I said, firmly. ‘You must understand that, Mrs Chaillard. There is nothing in the world which will stop it from belonging to him.’

“She was disappointed, I could see that—I think she had held some hope all the way to the end, despite my constant protests. Well, she said I would be sorry, and she left—and as strong and unruly as I had been during our interview, I must admit that at that point, I was all shatters and shivers again. I could not help but think she had the advantage after all, and that she was on her way to ruin our little utopia like a locomotive running full force through a rotten picket fence—it was only the assurance in your telegram last night that we should not lose faith, and Stevens’ infinite comfort and support, which kept me from completely falling apart. Well, Stevens forced me to take some lunch; and then we waited, for what felt like an eternity. I know you were also anxious at that point, my dear—it was written all over your face,” he said, taking Stevens’ hand and giving it a squeeze; and Stevens raised his eyebrows the very slightest, in a way which with some imagination could be interpreted as agreement.

“But then,” Webster continued, “we suddenly heard a carriage stop outside, and before we had time to do as much as get up, there was a furious knock at the door. It was her, of course; Stevens opened, and she pushed right past him; and I shall never forget the look on her face as she entered this room, nor the feeling it produced in me, for I could see right away that something had gone horribly wrong on her end, which must mean horribly right on ours. She stopped right in the middle there, on the carpet; I raised to my feet; and she simply stared at me for some moments, with the burning gaze of a wounded tiger.

‘Mrs Chaillard,’ I said then, ‘you look upset.’

‘Upset? Upset!’ she cried, taking a step towards me—but I stood my ground. ‘How dare you stand there as if you know nothing of the humiliation I just went through in the office of the editor of the largest magazine in the city! What is this trick you have played on me?’ she went on, and held up the same velvety bag in which she had placed the photographs and the letters after waving them in my face the day before.

‘But I assure you, I do know nothing,’ said I.

‘Nothing of THIS?’ she cried; and she reached inside the bag, and threw its contents at me.

“And what was it?” asked Watson.

“Nothing but this!” said Webster, and laughed as he reached into his pocket and produced some small pieces of paper. “Some biscuit wrappers, and a few tickets stubs to Lord’s. You can imagine I had some difficulty keeping a straight face. But I looked her in the eye, and said very sternly:

‘Perhaps the trick is one you have played on yourself all along.’

“I was quite pleased with myself for that, especially since it caused an even stronger emotion in her. All she could do was stomp her foot and let out a scream like you’ve never heard before. That last part was not very pleasant on the ears, of course; but then she cursed me in at least ten languages, and I was never so grateful to be so thoroughly insulted before in my life. You see, until now she had—despite threats of my destruction—been nothing but affectionate and seductive and pleasant with me. It was the most welcome change of behaviour, I must say. At last she cried:

‘This is the last you have seen of me, Lord Webster—mark my words!’

“And she left the house. I sank down upon the sofa, for by then I was shaking again, though this time with relief; and Stevens, who had heard everything, came to sit beside me—”

“—I was very proud of you, my dearest,” said Stevens, this time with clear affection in his deep voice, and kissed Webster’s hand.

Webster stopped in his retelling, for a moment or two forgetting all but his lover’s touch, and the eyes gazing into his own.

“Well,” said he then, “after blessing our fortune that we were once again free and that this horrible business was over, we immediately sent for you. It is all over, is it not, Mr Holmes?”

“I dare say that it is, my Lord,” Holmes said softly. “She has nothing on you now, and I hardly think anyone would believe her story should she decide to try it anyway, which I don’t think she will.”

Webster put his hand on his heart, smiled, and took a deep breath, much like one would do on the very first day of spring. Then he raised to his feet, to once again clasp the hands of his rescuers.

“I thank you, Mr Holmes,” he said, “and Doctor Watson. I cannot begin to describe the happiness you have brought us both.”

“We played a very small part in it,” smiled Holmes. “I’m quite confident, too, in saying that the photographs and the letters will soon be returned to you in the most discreet manner. Take good care this time, that they do not fall into the hands of another ill-willed enemy!”

“You may be certain of it, Mr Holmes,” said Stevens, reaching out his hand as well, “and may I also express my deepest gratitude for what you have done for us both. I hope you know how much this means to us.”

“Indeed, I’m sure we do,” said Watson, shaking his hand.

“You know,” said Webster then, “this whole business has been such strain, and now I truly do feel like celebrating. I think I finally shall take the plunge, and travel to the continent. That is,” he continued, taking Stevens’ hand again, “if my valet would be so good as to come with me.”

Stevens carefully raised Webster’s hand to his lips once more.

“I would like nothing better,” he said.

----- ♥ -----

It was with a puzzled mind that Holmes again entered the glass doors to the conservatory—and that says quite a lot when it comes to the man in question. But Watson had asked him here, to meet below the same palm tree as before—the usual palm tree—and he would naturally oblige. So there he was, walking down the little stoned path, and sitting down on the worn wooden bench to the sound of the friendly fountain. And he had not sat there long when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Watson’s smiling face and twinkling blue eyes looking down on him.

“I hope I did not startle you.”

“Not at all.”

Watson sat down next to him, and again they both sat in comfortable silence for some minutes.

“Holmes,” Watson said at last. “May I ask you one thing?”

“Anything, my dear Watson.”

Watson turned towards him. With great affection, he looked him in the eyes for a moment; then he said, in the most serious manner:

“May I borrow your penknife?”

Holmes started a little in surprise. But he reached into his coat, and produced a small knife. Watson took from him—carefully, as if it was the most precious of relics—and then he got down on the ground and, sitting on his knees, he traced the wooden surface of the bench with his fingers. When he had found what he was looking for he put the knife to the wood, and carefully carved six scores in it. Then he sat back up on the bench, and handed the knife over to Holmes, who looked bemused upon the initials now next to his own.

“J.W.” he stated, placing the knife back into his pocket. “But… I must admit, John, that I do not quite understand.”

“I want you to know,” Watson said, looking intently into his eyes, “that wherever your safe place is… I will be there with you.”

And he smiled his kindest and most genuine smile, the one that will, I’m afraid, never be reserved for you or me, but is but for one person alone; and it was met with that special glimpse lighting up in Holmes’ eye—the one he had learnt to recognise.

----- ♥ ----- ♥ ----- ♥ -----

#holmes and watson #my writing #yes of course they had to be there too somehow ^^#again sorry it took so long #me saying ''i will do this soon'' is just not realistic #and if you'd like me to put it on ao3 eventually let me know #<3

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harry-sussex · 5 years

Text

A note about the lawsuits:

Now that we know Harry is suing a small handful of magazine publications for a breach of privacy related to the personal lives of himself and his wife, there are a few things that I think need to be spelled out right now.

I’m seeing a lot of comments about Harry and Meghan and their privileges as a royal couple. There is no denying that they lead a very privileged lifestyle that people like us could only dream of. That, however, is absolutely no reason for the treatment that the Sussexes (particularly Meghan) have been facing in the press since their engagement. None whatsoever.

Now, I’m seeing a lot of people saying something akin to the following with respect to the lawsuits: “Harry and Meghan are funded by the taxpayer. They’re public servants. They don’t have a right to privacy. The media has an obligation to their readers to report whatever they deem relevant. If Harry and Meghan don’t like it, they can cease any and all royal work, recuse themselves from receiving funding from the Duchy of Cornwall and the Sovereign Grant, and move back to America/move to Africa/move away from England and everyone will leave them alone.”

There are about five million things wrong with that statement. Funded by taxpayer does not immediately equate to being required to share intimate details of their public lives with the public, for one - but that’s an argument for another day. Everyone is entitled to privacy - public figure or not. My primary issue, however, is the final italicized clause, one that I’ve read in similar veins on many forums since the first lawsuit and statement dropped the other day.

Right now, Harry and Meghan live in Frogmore Cottage, a royal property, which has some of the best security money can buy. They are constantly surrounded by taxpayer-funded security - during both official and private business. They obviously fund their private lives - clothing, vacations, etc. - privately, but the funds from the Duchy and the Sovereign Grant allow them a sort of peace of mind, safety, and comfort in their lives that they may otherwise be lacking.

Private security is expensive, people. Obscenely so. Especially for three (or more) people, and especially for the next sixty or so years.

Now, let’s say Harry and Meghan have had enough. They’re tired of the bowing and the curtseying, the “Your Royal Highnesses” and the strict rules, the dog-and-pony show that is being a member of the British Royal Family. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, they want out. They’re renouncing their right to taxpayer or otherwise royal funding, moving out of Frogmore, ceasing the use of the HRH, and bailing on royal life to get away from the institution and its confines.

Do people really think that would be it? “Oh, they’re not getting money from the taxpayer anymore, so we’re not interested.” Do people really think that it wouldn’t be an absolute witch hunt? Assuming they basically were to say “that’s it, we’re out, we don’t owe you anything anymore so we’re not telling you where we’re going,” which, to be fair, sounds like something they’d say in that situation. The press would use every resource they had to track down Harry and Meghan and their family. Stalk their children - just like they did with George. Terrorize them in their private lives - just like they did with Diana. Except without the protection afforded to both George and Diana.

Now imagine the hysteria... but remove the taxpayer-funded security. Remove the protection officers at all hours of the day and remove the royal residence with built-in features to protect them. The press is hungry for them. They stop at nothing to get what they want now... imagine if there wasn’t an institution or a system in between. Imagine if there was nothing getting in the way of the press getting what they want. No royal favor, no funded security, no secure home, nothing. It’s just the press, Harry, and Meghan. Fair game. Imagine what it would be like for them?

Why should Harry and Meghan be forced to change their lives? They have a position in life that frankly most people would die for. Why should they be forced to give it up? Why shouldn’t they do whatever they can to force the external forces to back off? Demanding that Harry and Meghan change their lives punishes them for crimes they did not commit. Forcing the press to back off punishes them for crimes they did commit. The only way to do this, of course, is to file a lawsuit.

People forget, I think, exactly what William and Harry have gone through. Spin it whatever way you want, but the press, like it or not, directly contributed to the death of their mother. Their mother who could afford private protection, who did hire private security... security that, ultimately, failed to protect her. Because of the press. The same press stalking their children outside of schools, the same press printing malicious and cruel lies about their wives... is the same press that killed their mother. Do you see? Do you know why they are the way they are with the press? That’s why. The press killed their mother (however accidentally it may have been) and now, god forbid, they’re coming for their wives and children, too. God forbid. No wonder they are the way they are! William and Harry are only looking to protect that which they now hold dear, after the press violently ripped the same from them a lifetime too early.

If the press was smart, they’d work to improve the relationship that they destroyed. The onus should not be on either of the Wales boys to rectify that relationship - they’re not the ones who destroyed it. Before Diana’s death, we got videos of the cousins, mini-interviews, photocalls at the palace with the babies... now, 22 years later, we get the occasional photograph. A handful of public appearances in total over the course of all four kids’ lives. That has to be a direct result of the contributions of the press to Diana’s death. Like it or not, William and Harry’s secrecy and general reluctance to share any private moments publicly is a direct consequence of the role the press played in their mother’s untimely, violent death.

If the press wants access, then they need to prove they’re once again worthy of access. They need to prove that the Wales boys can trust them, more than 22 years after the death of their mother. The press needs to prove that they have changed. The Sun, the Daily Mail... they’ve done nothing to earn Harry and Meghan’s trust. Piers Morgan profits exorbitantly every time he posts a negative word about Meghan. The Daily Mail and the Sun make absolutely insane amounts of money, printing the stories that they print. The press, in reality, hasn’t changed at all since Diana’s death. Not at all.

Don’t you see? The press is taking advantage of the Wales boys and their families to make money. Literally for the sake of the almighty pound. They did the same to Diana, and look how that turned out. If anyone else did that, there would be an uproar. But all of a sudden, it’s okay because it’s the press? Absolutely not.

If Harry thinks it’s worth the battle to go to battle for himself, his wife, his child, his brother, his sister-in-law, his niece and nephews, and for the memory of his late mother, then who are we to criticize it? If Harry wants to go to war in order to preclude the press from taking vile advantage of him and his family for the sake of revenue, then who are we to decry him? This is his life we’re talking about here - his life, and the lives of his family, who has already suffered enough because of irresponsible journalism. If this is what he and his team think needs to be done to prevent another Diana-esque tragedy, then who are we, you know?

Another Diana-esque tragedy would undoubtedly hurt every single one of us here blogging about the Wales boys and their families. God forbid, it would hurt the Wales boys and their families, though, infinitely many times more.

If Harry (and his undoubtedly well-endowed legal team) thinks he can prevent such a thing from happening, then we should all be for it. Period. If these lawsuits could potentially save the life of even one person to whom the press craves access (royal or not), then we should stand with them.

The public does not have the right to know each and every little thing about their representatives. The press seems to think they are entitled to private information, and will stop at nothing to get the information they crave. This is not the case, and a lawsuit is a great way to squash that entitlement. A lawsuit is the only way to force the press into submission, into following a set of rules that protects the targets involved.

If similar litigation was presented prior to Diana’s death, who knows what would have happened to her. Who knows if such a lawsuit could have protected her? We’ll never know, but it’s worth considering in light of recent events.

If this is the chance Harry is willing to take, then I - as an anonymous person who has never and will never face the type of hysteria he has - have to stand with him. Stand with Harry, and Meghan, and Archie, and William, and Kate, and George, and Charlotte, and Louis. That’s the way it should be. That’s the way it has to be.

#i have opinions #this is very long i'm sorry #pls don't hate i'm not in the mood #it's yankees playoffs night so be nice #anyway #my post #prince harry #duke of sussex #Meghan Markle #duchess of sussex #archie mountbatten-windsor #prince william #duke of cambridge #kate middleton #duchess of cambridge #prince george #princess charlotte #prince louis #british royal family

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