#feet propped up on my desk while im waiting for a meeting to start

[rinofwater]

Guess who unlocked a new dysphoria trigger at work today (yay!)

#personal #rant #gender dysphoria #gender dysphoria tw #dude on another team that im vaguely acquainted with walked by my desk and said 'hello princess' #and on his way back when i didn't respond was like 'i said HELLO PRINCESS' #and dear lord maybe it's the misogyny or maybe its the aggressive gendering of a term like princess #but nope #thats a no for me dog #im sitting there in a grey sweater and grey cargo pants and work boots #im binding (not that that does a whole lot with my massive chest but it makes me feel better) #hair freshly cut not to pass my ears #feet propped up on my desk while im waiting for a meeting to start #what about this reads feminine to you????? #im not out as nb at work because i would like to not be constantly harassed and debated thank you very much #but goddamn i thought i was at least reading as 'one of the boys(tm)' #so THAT sucks #anyway hope y'all's days went/have been going better

[raindownforme]

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

#ted nivision #ted nivison x reader #ted nivison

[cunningambitousdetermined]

The Plan (Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader)

title: the plan

pairing: natasha romanoff x f!reader

warnings: mild swearing, mentions of homophobia, FLUFF with a dash of angst

summary: Y/N has been in love with Natasha Romanoff for a VERY long time and honestly, Tony is getting sick of watching it. Natasha has been in love with Y/N since the very first day and Steve can’t take the assassins obliviousness anymore. Steve and Tony, reluctantly of course, team up to make the pair notice how perfect they are for each other. (OH SHOOT IM SORRY I SUCK AT SUMMARIES WOW)

requested by @iamninaanna: 

Hey Sunshine, I love your writing, so I'm here to request something :) 

Can I please request a Natasha Romanoff × reader, where the Avengers are playing truth or dare, and somebody challenges Natasha to kiss the reader, or something like that, and then they confess their feelings to one another. I was having something in mind, I hope it's not to specific, that like Natasha rambles about the reader to Steve A LOT, and he's so sick of it, he has to do something about it, while it's the same situation with reader, just that she's talking to hers best friend, which can be any of the Avengers, you decide, and then Steve and the reader's best friend make a plan together, and well, you know the rest <3

Okay, that was a lot, but I'm really excited😊 Thank you if you write it!!

a/n (i think that's what i put when i’m responding, if i screwed it up please let me know, it would be much appreciated) :

hi taja! thank you so much, this is the first time someone has requested something and im really excited. but also terrified. more terrified. reader is a girl but if someone wants me to rewrite this as gender neutral, i can.  hope i do it justice and if your reading this, thank you for reading. if anyone has any feedback, it’s always welcome. okay here i go!!

the story: 

Y/N Y/L/N flopped backward on to Tony Stark’s bed, grabbed the nearest pillow and let out a angry scream into the unsuspecting piece of cloth and feathers. 

“Woah kid, what’d the pillow do to you?” Tony joked, his eyes still trained on whatever new gizmo he was working on, chuckling at his best friends antics.

“It’s fucking Natasha” Y/N mumbled quietly into the pillow, her voice muddled by the soft white sheets that she buried her head farther in. Tony was silent, the only sounds was the clinking of the Tony’s robots and tools working, so she assumed he hadn’t heard her. Not that she wanted him too anyway. 

Y/N was in love with Natasha Romanoff. Head over heels, fully in love with the assassin that she’d worked closely with for the past years. To describe how Y/N felt about Natasha in words would never to how she really felt in justice. Natasha was a tall glass of Coke: Orange Vanilla. Rare, unsuspectingly sweet, and utterly addicting. Her red hair, the black bodysuit, the way she fought, she could take down 10 men on her own, with her bare hands. She was sweet- always sharing her secret candy stashes with Y/N- smart -helping Y/N out when she was still taking classes. 

Sometimes Y/N really thought Natasha felt the same way, then she flirted with a guy here and hot girl there and the idea fled from her brain.  Y/N had never seen Natasha have an inclination toward women, she flirted with every living thing. Y/N liked to think it was a coping with feelings for someone and that's why she was so flirty but in reality, Y/N knew there was no way she felt near the same way. She was an extra to the Avengers. And besides, no one even knew she liked girls. 

“It’s what, darling?” Tony had moved and was now sitting in front of Y/N, spinning around in his chair like a little kid in their dad’s office.

Y/N wanted to tell him how in love she was with Natasha, she wanted to tell him all the little things she noticed, all the little things she loved. But she couldn’t. How would Tony take it? Tony might take it okay, but the team? Steve? Bucky? They were from the 40′s, women didn’t love other women openly back then, did they still think it was... unnatural? She didn’t think she could deal with being any more of an outcast. Did Natasha like girls? The thoughts were drowning her slowly, cutting off her air supply, the last bit of air building up into a scream that she would never let out. 

Tony coughed and Y/N realized she’d been silent for too long. “Tony....” she took a deep breath in, “I- uh-...,” Tony raised an eyebrow, waiting for to go on. Y/N coughed clearing nothing from her throat, elongating the silence before she just spit the words out like hot fire. “I’minlovewithNatashaandIdontknowwhattodo?” 

“You’re what?” Tony asked, having caught nothing of that sentence, something about Natasha but honestly he was still lost. 

Y/N felt a little better and slowed herself down. She trained her eyes on a seam in the comforter and whispered, “I’m in love with Natasha and I don’t know what to do”

There was a silence and Y/N could feel it smothering her, pulling her into the water, dunking her head under, she was drowning and, and and- Tony erupted in laughter. Y/N’s head shot up and she stared at him, color drained from her face. Tony rocked back and forth but when he came up again, he caught the absolute terror on her face and his smile dropped. 

“Y/N?” he asked softy, he stood up, plopping on the bed next to her, “Babe?” Tony tried to catch her eye, ducking his head but she turned away. He grabbed her chin in his large hands, “Babe, I wasn’t laughing at you. God, I’m such an idiot.” he blew out a harsh breath, “I was laughing because I already knew, not because you are in love with her.” Tony felt her face relax and he turned her chin to meet his eye. 

“You knew?” Y/N asked softly, tears still gathered in her eyes. Tony’s eyes softened as he saw the tears and he used the pads of his thumb to wipe them away. 

“I’m sorry Y/N. I don’t care if you like women. I’ve known you had some sort of feelings for Natasha for a while, you can see it when you look at her. I was just waiting for you to tell me.” Y/N laughed at this now and threw her arms around Tony, who wrapped her up in a hug. “Now, tell me more about Natasha and this ‘love’” he said, his voice muffled by her hair. 

~

“STEVEEEE” Natasha groans, letting down her normal assassins façade. 

“Mmm” Steve hummed in reply, motioning for her to come in to his room. She smiled and darted to the spinning chair in the corner, propping her feet up on the desk. It was silent for a little bit, the pair just enjoying each others company when Natasha spun her chair around and broke the silence. 

“Do you think Y/N likes women?” Steve already knew the Natasha liked women and he was totally cool with it. Nat has been surprised when he had been super supportive but was very grateful for all the love and reassurance he’d given her. 

“Nat,” Steve sighed dramatically, “She can’t NOT know your in love with her, unless she’s totally oblivious which she may be...” He turned to face her, jumping on his bed to be closer to her, “You should just tell her” 

“But...” Nat frowned, “what if she doesn’t like women? And I creep her out? And..” She stopped as she felt Steve lay a hand on her shoulder. 

“How could she not like you?” he questioned, “And trust me, it’s quite obvious how she feels.” 

“HOW SHE FEELS?!” Nat practically screamed, so unlike her that Steve leaned back. She cleared her throat, “Sorry- she feels...?” 

“She’s in love with you, obviously”

Nat grabbed a pillow from the bed and screamed into it, then looked at Steve, wary, “Really? Y/N with her...” Steve tuned out the rest of what Nat said, he’d heard it all before. Too many times. Nat sighed, in a happy way that Steve had never heard from her before, “Y/N...”

~

Steve knew that this had to end, Natasha and Y/N pretending they weren’t head over heels for each other. He’d heard enough of Nat’s wistful rants, it was so unlike her, it was starting to worry him. If he was correct in his guess, Tony was feeling the same way. So, despite Tony being, well, Tony, Steve sought him out to solve the mess. 

~

“Truth or dare, old man?” Clint smirked at Tony, all the avengers had settled for a night in and decided to play truth or dare. Y/N had rolled her eyes at this, they were too old for it, but settled in next to Tony anyway. 

“Dare, obviously” Tony rolled his eyes at Clint, eagerly awaiting his fate. 

“I dare you to stand on top of the tower and sing at least 30 seconds of ‘Rich Girl’ by Gwen Stefani and livestream it.” Tony laughed at this and stood up. 10 minutes and one livestream later, all of them were laughing harder then they had in a long time. 

“Okay, okay, my turn to ask,” Tony smiled, “Natasha, truth or dare?” Steve couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face, the plan was in motion. 

“Dare...” Natasha didn’t let her voice waver, her signature smirk on her face. 

“I dare you to kiss Y/N”

The whole room fell silent. Y/N’s face flamed and her eyes filled with tears. Was this a joke? Tony knew how she felt. How could he? The eyes in the room were on Nat and her but she ignored them as she got up and ran out of the room. Tony’s eyes widened as Y/N darted through the door. 

“Nice going, Tony. You upset her.” Natasha’s glared at Tony, angry. But inside she couldn’t help but wonder if she ran because she didn’t want to kiss her. Maybe she hated the idea. Maybe she didn’t like women after all. Nat got up, she had to face this. “I’ll go get her” She dragged her hand over her face and got up. Tony and Steve exchanged a glance as she left, hopefully this wouldn’t blow up in their faces

~

“Y/N!” Nat yelled down the hall, “It’s me, I’m sorry Tony was a jerk. Can we talk?”

Y/N heard Natasha’s voice and faltered, she had to face this at some point. She took a deep breath, letting the cool confidence she had on missions fill her. 

“Yeah, I’m here Nat” She called back and within seconds Nat ran around the corner. Nat’s eyes softened as they looked into Y/N’s beautiful eyes, still just as mesmerizing, puffy and red. Nat took an unconscious step forward, her thumbs caressing the hidden tear streaks. Y/N’s breath caught, her heart flipping at Nat’s touch. Before she could think about it, Y/N leaned up and let her lips meet Nat’s. Nat responded immediately, pulling Y/N to her, wrapping her arms around her, teeth tugging at her bottom lip. Y/N groaned into the kiss, letting her fingers card through Nat’s hair. They pulled away after a minute, smiling like idiots. Y/N looked down slowly before glancing back up shyly at Nat. 

“Um... I really like you Nat” She whispered, with a smile

“I really like you too Y/N” Nat chuckled, pulling her in again for a sweet, soft kiss. It said everything they hadn’t said. All the nights of longing, the confusion and the love. 

Tony, Steve and the rest of the team watched from the security room, smiling and high fiving at the happy couple. 

AHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!! feedback is always appreciated!!

tagging: @iamninaanna (to be tagged when i write something just drop me an ask)

#natasha romanoff x reader #wlw fanfic #marvel #avengers x reader #tony x platonic!reader #steve x platonic!natasha #pining #fluff #hint of angst #marvel fanfic #my writing

[sirenascales]

-> double black [part four] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The investigation continues, even if things aren't moving as smoothly as one would like. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,073 words

note: SMUT Like... this was an excuse to write smut with both of them okay, and totally i forgot to tag those who are on my taglist for the previous part and im so sorry lol but please enjoy!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

Days have gone by and the investigation is still underway, but things weren't looking too great. There was still no confirmed DNA evidence, no weapon, not even a witness. Nothing to aid in the apprehension of Taichi's murderer.

"If only Ranpo were here," Atsushi sighed deeply, the snack loving detective out on another case that had popped up. "He would have solved this in a heartbeat."

I laughed softly, wringing my hands nervously. "It's too bad he isn't here," I said, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of me. "Surely it would make things easier for us..."

"But that'll just be boring!" Dazai exclaimed from his desk, leaning against Atsushi who just pushed him off.

"This isn't for your entertainment, Dazai! The killer could have fled the country by now," Kunikida argued, crossing his arms over his chest. "For now, we just have to stay focused and not waste time.

I nodded, slumping back in my chair and fiddling with my pen. "What the hell are we missing..."

We didn't dwell on it for much longer, since the shift ended. I sighed in relief, looking forward to just going home, eating dinner, and going to bed. The case was draining, the dead ends we kept running into just sending us back to square one. Now all I wanted was to rest for the night.

But of course, with a certain suicidal maniac, that was not happening.

"Isn't this cheating..." I gasped out softly, Dazai pressing his naked body against me from behind, his hard dick against my ass and his mouth on my neck.

"Maybe..." Dazai hummed, reaching around to grab my breasts, the soap in his hands making my skin slippery. "But there's no such thing as cheating in a fight."

I gasped sharply when Dazai pinched my nipples, eyes fluttering closed. "This isn't even a fight... you're the weirdo that wanted to turn this investigation into a game."

Leave it to Dazai to basically latch himself onto me as I made my way home. We ordered delivery, eating together on my couch and deciding to watch a movie. Before I knew it, we were making out on my couch, soon enough making our way to the shower.

The water was hot, steaming up the bathroom. Our wet hair stuck to our skin, Dazai holding onto my hips tightly as he fucked me from behind. He bit his lip in concentration, relishing in the sound of my cries echoing in the small room.

"Fuck... Osamu, you feel so good," I cried out, hands slipping on the tiled walls, trying to grab for something. Dazai just pressed his chest against my back, keeping up his rough pace as he chuckled in my ear.

"Do you like that?" "Yes!" "Of course you do, dirty little girl." Dazai reached around and grabbed my face, stuffing two fingers into my mouth. That had my eyes rolling back as I weakly sucked on his fingers, his other hand working on my clit. That finally sent me over the edge as I screamed around his fingers, body shaking as I reached my peak.

Dazai fucked me through my orgasm, ignoring my whines from the overstimulation until he quickly pulled his cock out, pumping himself a few more times before he hit his own orgasm, cumming right on my ass.

"Fuck, bella. You're so beautiful," he gasped, kissing me deeply while pulling us under the hot water.

We barely made it out of the bathroom before going at it again, Dazai fucking me against the wall in the hallway, one of my legs hooked around him while he wrapped a hand around my neck. His breath was hot against my neck, coming out in breathless pants while he continued to rail me.

"Incredible," he whispered in my ear, his hand still around my neck, keeping me in place. "And so pliable... you'll always be putty in my hands."

"Mmm!" I moaned almost pathetically. "Yes..."

"You're my pretty little subordinate?"

"Yes!"

Soon, we finally made it to my bed, where Dazai proceeded to make me ride him like my life depended on it. I was left shaking, the two of us very satisfied.

"So much for a quiet evening," I huffed a while later, the two of us finally getting clean before burying ourselves under my covers. "You are one horny bastard, Dazai."

"Says the equally horny bitch," Dazai retorted and I laughed, turning and pressing my face against the side of his neck.

It went silent, and thankfully it was a comfortable silence where we just lied there, holding onto each other. I sigh contently, fingers lazily trailing up and down his chest while I can feel the bandages on his arms against my skin.

"Dazai?"

"Hm."

"You know..." I started carefully, keeping my face pressed against him. "If you ever need to like... talk... when you're feeling... bad... I'm here for you." I bit my lip, hoping I wasn't overstepping. "I'm here. Even if it's just to listen..."

Dazai didn't say anything, and I was too freaked out to look at him. Though, after a moment, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, giving me a nice squeeze.

"You are very kind, bella."

I frowned, cuddling up more against him. I blinked when he shifted, looking at him questionably as he set me down on the bed before he started to get up. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," he grinned back at me. "I won't be long, bella. Don't miss me too much!"

I just scoffed and rolled my eyes, watching Dazai leave the bedroom before staring up at the ceiling. I waited, frown on my face growing deeper as the minutes went by, teeth chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

"Sorry, I went to get some water," Dazai then returned, quickly climbing into bed beside me. Immediately his arms are wrapped around me, holding me tight. "Let's go to sleep."

I smiled up at him, softly pressing a kiss to his lips before I settled against him, closing my eyes. "Goodnight."

Dazai watched me for a second, his lips curling up in an amused, knowing smile. "Goodnight, bella..."

"Ah... this is nerve-wracking..." Keiko mumbled softly, clinging onto my hand as we stepped up to the very familiar tall building. I gulped, nervous since the building was overrun with members of the Port Mafia.

It was the day after that night I spent with Dazai, and instead of being at work, I had received a call from an unknown number. That had turned out to be Chuuya, who ordered me to find Keiko and bring both of our asses to meet him in his office.

Chuuya wasn't just a member of the Port Mafia, but he was an executive, and he held great power. It was almost scary, especially as Keiko and I rode up the escalator to the right floor.

"I wonder what he wants..." Keiko says nervously, biting her lip as we approached the office. We finally made it and I knocked on it five times.

"Come in."

I gulped and we walked inside. Chuuya sat in his desk, and if I wasn't so nervous, I would have been drooling at how fucking fine he looked, sitting with his feet propped on the desk. He gestured to the chairs before his desk lazily. "Sit."

He mostly wanted to talk to Keiko, seeing as she was Taichi's boyfriend and to make sure she didn't tell too much info to the police or "those bastards at the ADA", as he said while shooting me a dirty look. I returned it.

"Of course not," Keiko said softly. "And I wanted to thank you for paying for his funeral. That was nice of you."

Chuuya waved her off. "It wasn't a problem. He was one of my best men." Keiko clenched her fists tightly in her lap as he said that.

"Did you find out anything? We're not having too much luck either," I spoke up, thoughtful look on my face. "Like how can you not find DNA when he was selling the drugs there? There had to have been other people." I looked over at Keiko, missing how Chuuya's eyes went wide before he narrowed them at me.

"It's pissing me off how hard this is," he said rather stiffly, still watching me. "At the end of the day, this might just end up closing as a cold case... but like hell will I forget this." Chuuya clenched his fists, a look of anger and determination on his face. "But we are done here. Well, I'm done with you, Keiko. I still need to speak with her." He was looking right at me.

Keiko gave me a knowing look and a wink and I just playfully shoved her towards the door. "I'll see you later, okay?" I said and she nodded before walking out. Turning back to Chuuya, I watched him get up from his desk. "So what else did you wanna talk about?" I asked, tilting my head as Chuuya walked around the desk and towards me, not answering.

"Um? Hel-mmph!"

Chuuya gripped the back of my neck, pulling me in for a deep, breathtaking kiss. I cupped his face, kissing him back just as deeply. He turned us around so as he walked me backwards with his lips still on mine, I bumped right against his desk, which he sat me on.

"You came in here in this sexy ass dress and expect me not to fuck you?" Chuuya growled, kissing down my neck as his hands moved up my dress. He smirked as he massaged my thighs, quickly finding my knife and removing it. "This is a beautiful knife," he hummed, inspecting it. I smiled softly, weakly reaching to grab it but Chuuya just flicked it, the blade neatly embedding itself right on his desk. "You take great care of it."

"Well, that was my first knife..." I said softly, desperately wanting my knife back, but that went out the window once Chuuya kissed me again.

My legs soon found themselves wrapped around Chuuya's hips. His pants were pushed down just enough to free his cock, my panties pushed to the side as he fucked me right on top of his desk.

"Fuck, dollface, you're even better than I fucking remembered," Chuuya hissed, pushing me on my back, on top of his messy papers. He tossed one of my legs over his shoulder, squeezing his gloved fingers into my flesh as I could only moan and whine in pleasure, his thrusts hitting hard and deep inside me, I was seeing stars.

"S-so much for... only one time, huh," I managed to choke out, my head tossing back as Chuuya hit that one spot. "Oh, fuck!"

"Yeah, shut up and take this cock," Chuuya hissed. His thumb pressed against my clit, and that was enough to have me squeezing him tight as I hit my orgasm, legs shaking and loud cries leaving my mouth.

That got him going and soon, Chuuya was pulling out and I was on my knees, fisting his cock and letting Chuuya cum in my mouth. Chuuya petted my hair, a blissed out look on his face. "Good girl. Now, bend yourself over the desk."

With shaking knees, I got myself up and bent over Chuuya's desk like he ordered, displayed all nice and pretty for him. I looked back over my shoulder, shuddering at how he looked at me, blue eyes full of hunger as he bit on his lower lip. His leather clad hands started to squeeze my ass, moving one hand up until he's pressing on the middle of my back, guiding his cock against my entrance with his other hand.

We borh groaned in pleasure as he started pushing himself in, Chuuya tossing his head back with a hiss. "Fuck, I'll never get tired of this." He starts thrusting his hips, moaning again at the feel of my walls around him. "Fuck, fuck..."

"It's all yours..." I could only babble out, the feel of him stretching me nice and good frying my brain. "Chuuya, please, oh my God..."

After two more soul shattering orgasms, I was finally allowed to leave... if I even could. There was a smug grin on Chuuya's face as he just stared at me. I sat in the chair across from him, the two of us dressed, but he looked like a damn model while I looked like I had a run in with the giant industrial fans they had in elementary school cafeterias during the warmer days.

"Get that dumb look off your face," I whined. "It's not fair. I looked like I got attacked."

Chuuya snickered. "I mean... that's not so far off."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, you and Dazai are so unbelievably horny, it's sad."

Chuuya growled. "First off, don't talk about him around me. And second, who was the one begging to titfuck my cock?"

I scoffed, face hot and I turned my nose up at him. "Shut up."

"Just go home."

"Fine. You guys are still cheaters anyway," I said before standing up. I walked over to him, leaning over his desk and I was happy when he met me halfway and gave me a kiss. "Call me again. Maybe when there isn't a weird investigation going on."

Chuuya rolled his eyes, shooing me away. "Just go."

I giggled softly before turning and walking out of the office. Chuuya sighed deeply, opening one of his desk drawers. He stared at the object inside of it for a moment, sighing again before grabbing his pack of cigarettes, taking one and lighting it up before taking a long drag.

-End

tags in replies!

#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai smut #chuuya smut #bsd smut #yee fucking haw more smut bc i am a heathen straying further away from God #oh to be the reader sigh

[duncanxtrent]

The Punks vs the Parents

(A quick none ABC related Duncan story based on a wondeful prompt by @trash-that-loves-total-drama. Go follow them for more good Duntrent stuff ;) Anyways on with the story)

(Also for context, Trent, Geoff, Katie, Sadie, and DJ all also attend the daycare along with the other kids)

*insert Baps and Beeps by the TDR kiddos intro here*

“UGH!!!!” Duncan screamed

Duncan stormed into the daycare. Visibly angrier than normal.

“What in the world?” DJ glances at him confused.

Duncan just storms to his time out corner and quietly crouches in the corner.

“Are you ok, dude?” Trent asks

“NO IM CLEARLY NOT OK!!!” Duncan shouts.

“What’s going on?” Beth asks

“My parents are coming over…” Duncan mumbles.

“They are?!?!” Beth shouts in excitement.

“EEEEEEEEEE!!!!” Owen squeals wearing a lot of Banana and Cheese merch.

“Oh great… Another cringy concert…” Gwen groans.

“What? No! Those guys aren’t my parents anymore…” Duncan counters.

“WHAT?!?!” Everyone screams.

“What happened?” Owen cries out in sadness.

“Well…” Duncan trails off.

FLASHBACK

“Letting your child set off several kilograms off explosives?! Leaving your child alone for months at a time?!?! Leaving the child with only 2 weeks of supplies in food per month?!” The social workers screamed.

“What? We needed money for props!” Cheese explains.

“Yeah.. And besides I don’t think it was that bad!” Banana adds.

“Your son is literally in the hospital after collapsing of exhaustion and starvation…” The child care worker sighs.

Banana and Cheese just look down at their feet.

FLASHBACK END

“Oh so that’s why you weren’t here Monday through Thursday!” Beth concludes.

“Yeah, I was in foster care for about 2 weeks before a new pair of parents adopted me. A pair of local cops…” Duncan explains.

“That doesn’t sound so bad!” Trent says

“It’s just… Listen I don’t want them coming…” Duncan sighs.

“Well we can try and stop them. I’d be glad to help!” Trent offers.

“And this is why you’re my best bro!” Duncan says clapping Trent on the back. “Let’s do this!”

The two of them quietly sneak into Chefs office. They pay Owen some cookies to distract Chef while Trent messes around with the computer.

“Alright what should we do?” He asks

“How about you shut down some traffic lights? That should cause some chaos!” Duncan offers.

“Sounds like a plan!” Trent types some things into the keyboard and shuts down some traffic lights in the neighborhood.

Meanwhile

Jackson eagerly bounced up and down in the police car as June quietly drove to the daycare.

“I’m so excited! Visiting my son in the Daycare, and getting to present to his class! I can’t wait to see him.” Jackson excitedly cheered

“We’ll be there in a bit. Just be patient.” June explains.

“Do you think we’ll meet this infamous Trent he’s always going on about?” He asks

“Probably… Not many people were absent today…” June explains

“Oh I can’t wait to meet him. He sounds amazing from the way my son described him.” Jackson sighed.

Suddenly the radio in their car went off.

“All units we have a traffic light shut down on the corner of Maizono and Kuwata. Please call in to direct traffic.” The police chief reports.

“What?! Come on!!!” Jackson shouts.

“That’s awfully inconvenient.” June mumbles.

“UGH!!! And just when we were going to see him too!” Jackson cries planting his face into the dashboard.

June looks at the map and sees the daycare is only a couple blocks away.

“Hey Honey do you think you could run today?” She asks

“Yeah why?” He asks sitting up.

“Well what say I go handle the incident with the traffic lights. And you go run to meet our son at the daycare.” June offers.

“Really?! You mean it?!” Jake asks excitedly.

“Just be careful ok?” June smooches Jake on the cheek.

“I will! Thanks!” Jake says hopping out of the car. June drives off to handle the traffic incident while Jake begins running back to the daycare.

Back at the daycare

“Seems like THEYRE on their way to deal with it. They shouldn’t be around for the whole day!” Trent explains.

“Awesome! Thanks dude!” He says quickly hugging Trent before retracting and hopping down.

Duncan begins humming and walking back to the main room when the door bell rings.

“I’ll get it!” Chef calls approaching th door.

“Probably the mail man…” Duncan assumes.

Chef opens the door and wouldn’t you know it? Jake is standing there patiently waiting to get inside!

“Mr. Fuego! A pleasure to see you!” Chef waves.

Duncan stops in his tracks.

“I-I’m sure it’s another-“ Duncan is cut off.

“DUNCAAAAAANNN!!!!!” Jake runs past Chef and immediately picks ups and squeezes his son in a hug. Duncan struggles to get out but eventually reluctantly accepts and hugs him back.

Jake sets him back down and Jackson crouches down. “How ya been little dude?!” He asks excitedly.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Duncan asks in retaliation.

“Your mother and I were supposed to help with a traffic problem but she offered to take care of it while I ran here.” Jake explains.

“How nice…” Duncan mumbles, red in the face.

“You ok little dude? The summer heat getting to you?” He asks

“No no… Everythings cool Dad…” Duncan stutters.

“Ah good! Wouldn’t want anything happening to my little buddy!” He says ruffling Duncan’s hair.

He stands up and turns to Chef. “How’s my son been doing?” He ask

“That’s actually what I invited you to talk about.” Chef explains

Jake looks at him with a questioning face. Chef leads Jake to his office and sets Jake down in the chair in front of his desk.

“What’s going on?” He asks

“Your son is an absolute menace in our school! He’s constantly setting off explosives! Bullying the other kids! And he’s always destroying things!” Chef explains.

“What?!?! That doesn’t sound like him at all!!!” Jake says genuinely shocked.

“You mean he doesn’t experience this behavior at home?” Chef says obviously expecting that he does.

“No! He’ll knock things down on one rare occasion when he’s running around, and he’ll usually apologize for ti even. And whenever other kids are over he’s always incredibly nice playing with them! The parents even confirmed this!” Jake explains.

“See exa- Wait HUH?!” Chef says clearly shocked.

“Did you really come here to lie to me about my son, Mr.Chef? I’ll have you know I can easily arrest you for that.” Jake glares.

“N-no! Your son always exhibits this behavior at school! I don’t know why he doesn’t do it at home!” Chef explains.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes!” Chef insists

Jake sits back down “Well then if you would like I wouldn’t mind observing your classroom for a bit to see this ‘behavior’ you claim he has.”

“Ok sure! I could use the extra hand.” Chef offers.

Jake nods and walks outside the office to observe the kids.

Outside, Duncan was fully prepared to knock over Cody’s tower. But sees his dad mid way and stops and turns around quietly.

Cody turns around looking confused.

Transition

Later the kiddos are eating lunch together when Beth accidentally trips Duncan over.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry…” Beth shouts.

Duncan quietly gets up and Beth expected a violent response but instead Duncan simply reached out his hand.

“It’s fine! Everyone makes mistakes!” Duncan says shrugging.

Duncan just quietly walks over and begins eating his lunch, which was thankfully I damaged due to the fact that it was still in his lunchbox. But Beth just looked at him confused.

“Huh?”

Another transition

The kids are quietly finger painting, and Courtney ‘accidentally’ spilled some paint on Duncan.

“Oops… Sorry…” Courtney says sneakily.

Duncan growls for a minute but then takes a deep breath and faces Courtney.

“Can you please be more careful next time? I like this shirt.” Duncan asks shockingly polite.

Courtney just looked at him confused.

“Im going to go clean up…” Duncan walks off to clean up in the bathroom.

“What the?” Courtney stares at him confused.

And another transition because TDR moves fast

All the kids are quietly napping away and Trent approaches Duncan, quietly scooting up next to him.

“Dude what’s going on?” He ask

“What do you mean?” Duncan asks

“You’ve been incredibly well behaved the entire time we’ve been here. What’s going on?!” Trent says clearly confused.

“I just wanted to not break the rules! What’s the problem with that?” Duncan shrugs.

“Yes but that’s the attitude you NEVER have!! What’s going on?” Trent asks

Duncan looks around for a moment. Then sighs and gets up quietly.

“Follow me…” Duncan asks.

Trent gets up and the two of them head to the bathroom where Jake can’t see them. Then Duncan turns to Trent.

“Listen… I’m trying to be on my best behavior for my dad. Ok? I don’t want him to know that I’m this thug punk guy that beats people up on the daily.” Duncan explains.

“Why? Just because he’s a cop doesn’t mean he’ll hate you if you’re a thug…” Trent explains.

“No! That’s not it! It’s just…” Duncan sighs “Dad and Mom were way better than Banana and Cheese were. They actually gave me attention! They never abandoned me or had me cook my own food just because they were busy. They helped me! They cared for me. Yes they punished me which is a little unfortunate but the punishments weren’t ever extreme. The worse I ever got was having to clean out the toilets for a couple days. And even then they helped me by showing me how to do it. Dad and Mom, they are the only adults I actually trust. And I don’t want them to think I’m just a bad kid who just puts on a show for them for the sake of getting love and cookies or whatever. I love them… I love them too much to betray them…” Duncan begins noticeably crying.

“Dude… Are you ok?” Trent asks reaching a hand out.

“IM NOT CRYING YOURE CRYING!!!” Duncan sniffles.

“Hey dude it’s ok…” Trent reaches around and hugs Duncan. Duncan quietly hugs him back.

“It’s fine dude… If you wanna start changing your ways. I’ll be by your side no matter what…” Trent says patting Duncan’s back.

Duncan lets go. “Thanks…” He mumbles wiping his eyes.

“Should we head back now?” Trent asks

Duncan nods and the two of them open the bathroom door…

To find Jake standing outside the door, with tears streaming down his face.

“Ah nuts…” Trent mutters.

“Dad… I-“ Duncan gets cut off by Jake picking up Duncan and pulling him into a hug. This time Duncan only has a slight hesitation before pulling his Dad into a hug as well. The two of them sit there quietly hugging as Trent stands by and awkwardly watches.

“You really love me that much?” Jake mumbles.

“Of course I do. I love you so much, Dad. I don’t wanna hurt you…” Duncan responds.

“I love you too…” He says hugging him harder.

Finally Jake sets down Duncan and wipes his eyes. “I get it though. You always loved to play the villain. It’s not necessarily good for you, but if it’s what you want to do that fine with me. Just don’t do anything highly destructive, ok? And nothing majorly emotional damaging obviously. Basically just don’t go too big.” Jake explains.

“Ok Dad…” Duncan hugs Jakes leg before wandering back to the nap room. Trent gets up to do the same but Jake stops him.

“So you’re the Trent I’ve heard so much about!” Jake says smiling.

“Hmm?” Trent looks at him confused.

Jake crouches down. “Duncan talks about you all the time at home. He considers you his best friend, I’d almost say he loves you. He really is a good kid at heart, I want you to know that.”

“I’ve always known that…” Trent chuckles.

“Good. You seem like a good friend for my son. Hope to keep seeing you around.” Jake says ruffling Trents hair and standing up.

“Thanks…” Trent is about to walk back but stops.

“One more thing…” Trent says turning around. “Do you have any embarrassing photos of him?” Trent asks

“Whaddya mean?” Jake asks

“Like photos of him being cute or dorky or stuff that isn’t cool or villainous or whatever.” Trent explains further.

“Ooh! Yes actually I have the perfect photo I’ve wanted to show for a long time.” Jake explains.

Jake pulls out his phone and scrolls through his photo till he finds the photo in question. He crouches down again and shows Trent the photo. In the photo, A starry eyed Duncan is clinging to Jake’s arms in a white shirt with red sleeves smiling giddily as Jake smiles back at him. The photo was presumably taken by June.

“That is so cute. I love it.” Trent laughs.

“He’s so cute isnt he?” Jake smiles.

“He is! Anyways that’s all! Have a good day Mr.Fuego!” Trent says wandering off.

“You too!” Jake says waving.

(End)

#duncan td #total dramarama #not Duntrent #for once lol #Duncan hates not being a bad boy #but really loves his parents #for some context #June is his mother’s name #and Jackson is his fathers name #I just realized #I took the prompt for like a minute #and then started doing my own thing #uh whoops

[cesarinthefreezer]

Some notes before you guys read. If you didn’t see my post I had an idea for a fic about the reader being a Cosplayer how gets transported to the jojo universe while they are cosplaying and they run into the character they are dressed as. I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter. I plan on having 3 or 4 total

Fancy seeing you here

Chapter 1

Rohan Kishibe

It’s a warm Thursday morning. It’s the first day of the convention you’ve been looking forward to for months. You’ve been staying up till god know when , sewing and building your cosplays. Styling wigs and gathering props when you have free time after class. Day 1 is Rohan Kishibe. Your number 1 favorite character. You’ve decided to go with his iconic white crop jacket outfit with gold pen tip pendents and an iconic gold head band. With your perfectly styled green wig on and your fountain pen and part 4 manga book in hand you make your way to the convention center.

As you walk down the street to meet up with your friends you feel a sudden jolt of energy and black out. When you wake up you are laying on the side walk, but you don’t recognize the street you are on. You get yourself to your feet and take in your surroundings. You don’t see any signs of the convention center or anyone in cosplay.

“Hey Rohan Sensei!”

You jump at the voice coming from behind you,

‘Thank god someone recognized my character’

You spin around to greet the person calling out to you. When you finally see the face of the voice you can’t believe your eyes.

“Wow that has to be one of the best Josuke cosplays I’ve ever seen”

The young man pauses and his jaw drops

“You’re not Rohan, you’re dressed like him but you’re not Rohan who the hell are you?”

You take a second to look him up and down

“Of course im not actually him he’s not real, but I have to say you’re Josuke is incredible, you look as if you walked right out of the manga, are you on your way to the convention”

In that moment the man dressed as Josuke grabs your wrist

“I’ve never seen you before how do you know my name, and what do you mean cosplay? This is what I look like everyday and you never explained why you are dressed like Rohan”

Pulling your wrist free you push the young man away from you and take off running down the street. You run for a few blocks before coming to what looks like a city map. It reads;

“Morioh City Map”

You freeze before opening the manga you remember you brought with you, the Morioh map in the book matches the map in front of you.

“What the actual hell is going on here I can’t seriously be in Morioh it isn’t real”

You look around to see buildings on the street line up with buildings illustrated in your book. You punch yourself in the leg several times

“Wake up, wake up, this isn’t real... wake up”

To your surprise you don’t wake up.

“If this really is Morioh then that young man was really Josuke, and I’m not in my own reality anymore, how did I even get here...... and I’m dressed up like Rohan Kishibe, god the people here are gonna think I’m crazy or that I’m actually him”

After you calm yourself down you realize this experience is kinda like a dream come true. You’re in your favorite universe. And you got to meet Josuke Higashkita. You spend the day exploring the city since you’ve read the book you know it like that back of your hand. As you explore you are careful to stay out of sight of any major characters. However a few people have greeted you as “Rohan Sensei” they think you are actually him. As you roam around you happen to see Koichi and Yukako on a date, and Okuyasu walking into tonis, but you make sure that they don’t see you.

You’ve yet to see Rohan himself, but you assume he’s most likely working in his studio. As much as you don’t want him to see you, you can’t help but wander the streets till you come across his house. You feel butterflies in your stomach.

Rohan’s character has always held a special place in your heart, hell the manga you brought along with you is the one where he makes his first appearance. The illustrations of his house are spot on to the building in front of you. After looking the house over you decide you should move on to avoid being seen. As you turn to walk away you feel some one grab you and spin you around, but before you can see the persons face you black out.

When you wake up you are on a soft, plush green couch. When you regain all your senses you finally see the person who grabbed you, hes standing above you with your manga in hand. The person staring you down is none other than Rohan Kishibe himself.

“Who are you?... why are you dressed like me, and why am I in this book of yours”

You sit up swiftly and look him in the eyes

“You just used heavens door on me didn’t you, wouldn’t that have a told you everything?”

Rohan drops the book on the floor

“How..... how did you know about my stand? And when I tried to read your pages they were blank.... you have some explaining to do”

You’re jaw drops, his stand doesn’t work on you because you’re not from his universe that has to be why

“My....my name is y/n. I’m not from here”

Rohan rolls his eyes

“That was blatantly obvious”

“I mean I’m not from this universe, where I’m from you aren’t real, this town isn’t real, it’s all just a story”

You stand up and grab the book flipping through the pages till you come to Rohan’s pages

“Where I’m from people who are fans of these books, which became a tv show dress as their favorite characters and go to conventions... that’s why I’m dressed like you”

Rohan braces himself on the couch before sitting down to process what he had just hear. After he calms down he looks up at you and smiles

“So does that mean I’m your favorite character?”

You smile

“Yes, you are, ever since you were introduced to me in the manga I fell in love with you. Your style and attitude reminded me a lot of myself”

Rohan lets out a laugh

“ A lot of people wish they could be me, you’ve really taken it to another level.... I’m flattered. Say... that do you actually look like

You blush

“ well what are you waiting for... of with the costume”

You stare at him

“I don’t have any other clothes”

He rolls his eyes

“We are both adults here just strip to your underwear, I won’t disrespect a young lady like yourself”

You remove the crop jacket and toss it on the couch then move to take of the head band and wig.

“I need a wet cloth to take of this make up if you don’t mind”

Rohan stands up and walks to his kitchen. Meanwhile you remove your wig cap, then your pants and crop top. Leaving you in your bra and underwear. Rohan returns and hands you the cloth, you wipe of your contour and green eyebrows.

“There it’s all off, you happy?”

Rohan looks you up and down

“I have to say your have quiet the talent for becoming other people, you pull me of very well for a woman... you can put your clothes back on now”

Slipping your pants and crop top back on you leave off the jacket and wig. You sit on the couch next to Rohan and explain what your universe is like and how much he means to you.

“I just don’t know how to get back to my world, I mean I don’t live here at all where am I gonna stay?... what am I gonna do?”

Realizing this send you into a panic, you start hyperventilating and crying, you then burry your face in your hands. A few moments pass before you fell a warm set of arms hold you

“Y/n it’s alright, you can stay with me till we figure out how to get you home. I don’t usually care for people all that much, but seeing how much you care about me, a person who doesn’t really exist in your world inspires me”

Hearing Rohan’s words you begin to calm down.

“Thank you Rohan, I can’t tell you how much of a dream come true this all is, in fact I’m afraid that I am dreaming still.”

Rohan smiles and grabs his sketch book

“I don’t know how long you’ll be here but I wanna capture you before you leave”

You sit quietly as Rohan sketches away thinking about how you wish you could stay here forever

“Finished, one sketch of you as you are and one sketch of you as me”

He flips around his sketch book and shows you his work, you take it in and start to cry

“Rohan, you are amazing and I wish I was half the person you are”

Rohan rips the sketch from his book

“I’m going to hang this on the wall in my studio, because I wish I was half the person you are y/n. Now let’s get you to bed it’s getting late and we have a big day tomorrow, I’m going to show you around the whole city”

Rohan leads you to the guest room, and says goodnight. You get in bed and think of the amazing day you had as you drift off to sleep.

The next morning Rohan rushes into the guest room to find it empty. You are nowhere to be found. His head falls in disappointment

“ I don’t think she’d be gone so soon, I do hope to see her again someday”

~

When you wake up you find yourself back in your room laying in bed in full cosplay, manga in hand. You are relived to be home but you start to cry knowing you’ll probably never see Rohan again. He will remain a fictional character here in your world. Opening your manga just so you can see his face again, you flip to a page of him sitting in his studio. As he is illustrated sitting at his desk working ,you catch a small detail , to his right there is a sketch pinned to the wall. A tear falls from your eye landing on the page, the sketch is the one he did of you.

#fanfic #jojos bizarre adventure #diamondisunbreakable #rohan #rohan x reader #jojo part 4 #rohan kishibe #jjba #jjba/reader #jjba x reader

[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Rose of Unconscious Beauty (Part 6)

All work and no play make Dante a dull devil, but when he finds out about his brother's flowery friend he sees an opportunity to cure his boredom. Well, that and his curiosity about what kind of woman catches Vergil's attention. So, he decides to spontaneously visit your garden to see what all the buzz is about.

Hope you enjoy these two finally meeting! And gardening puns...just all the gardening puns. 😆❤

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌹🥰🌹

Chapter 1: Meeting Dante

Life has been pretty good for Dante since he got back from his little foray into hell. He may still be in quite a bit of debt, but that never stops him from living life to the fullest. For the first time in a long time he does not feel so alone in the Devil May Cry shop. There is just one problem that plagues him now as he leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of his desk as a huge overdrawn yawn escapes his mouth…

He is bored.

Very, very…BORED.

The occasional odd job usually keeps him entertained, but business has been slow recently. There is only so much games of pool and swimsuit magazines before Dante is positively itching to fight something…anything. Nero has taken advantage of this dry spell and is finally getting hitched to Kyrie. Even Vergil, who he annoys into fighting sometimes just for sheer fact that it relieves his boredom for a while, has taken to disappearing from time to time.

Oh yeaaaaah. The mysterious flowery friend.

Dante ponders the potential of that whole situation giving him something to do besides sitting alone in his shop. He did not think it strange when Vergil started to go out more…in fact, he is proud that his brother is finally embracing his humanity and making this world his home. But when his cranky brother came back to the shop with pretty little blue flowers wrapped around his beloved Yamato…well, now that just piqued his curiosity. He tries to goad Vergil into telling him where he got the flowers or where he has been disappearing off to lately, but that conversation usually ends with him being stabbed a lot. Dante got his answer one day when Nero asks if he knew this florist that his old man just recommended to him. It all just suddenly clicked. The constant visits, the soft cloud nine smiles, just the overall secrecy…

Vergil…has a crush.

Just the idea of his brother being head over heels for someone has Dante shaking his head in wonder. Vergil has already left the shop, probably visiting his florist friend if Dante had to guess. It happens to be the day that Nero and Kyrie are supposed to meet their savior of flowers. He wanted to tag along to see what all the hype is about, but Nero absolutely refused to let him. Usually, that is not enough to deter Dante, but then his nephew just had to sick Kyrie on him. And how could anyone say no to her? So, here he sits…extremely bored and very curious.

I have to know if it’s true…if my dumbass brother really is lovestruck…

A sudden idea pops into Dante’s head as he takes out his cellphone and begins to text:

Dante: Hey! Gonna see your old mans flower girl today, amiright?

Nero: NO. Forget it.

Nero: Im not spying 4 u

Dante: NO ONE said ANYTHING about spying!

Dante: Just a couple of pics!

Nero: NO U CREEP

Dante: OH C’MON!!!

Dante taps on his screen vigorously as he provokes his stubborn nephew to reply, but after a few minutes of continued silence he gives up. He rolls his eyes as he groans in mild irritation and drops his phone onto the desk. His nimble fingers stroke his scruffy chin in thought, wondering if there will ever be an end to this torturous boredom…then it hits him faster than the Devil May Cry van. Nico! Dante snaps his fingers and nods his head in approval at his own ingenious idea. He snatches his phone back up and begins to text again:

Dante: Heyyyyyyy

Nico: Wat

Dante: Wanna help a friend out?

Nico: Lemme guess

Nico: U want me to spy for ya, right?

Dante: A couple of pics is NOT spying

Nico: Yeah yeah whatever

There is a long pause and Dante almost thinks his last-ditch effort is a bust. Until…

Nico: Mayyyyybe I’ll do it

Nico: Wats in it for me tho?

Dante only has to think about her prize for second before replying.

Dante: I’ll let you check out my guns

Nico: Ive already seen my fair share of muscles

Dante: Im talking about Ebony and Ivory

Nico: U GOTTA FUCKIN DEAL

Dante clenches his fist in victory. Nico tells him to hold tight while she finds a good hiding spot and the perfect angle. So, he grabs the nearest swimsuit magazine to read while he waits for Nico’s sneaky photos.

He only has to read a couple of pages of articles and check out a few curvy ladies before his phone vibrates. “Well now…let’s see what we've got,” he announces aloud as his hand instantly picks up his phone and eagerly opens up the message. Here she is! is written below two pictures of a bubbly woman with a bright smile and lively eyes. In one photo she is sitting down at a garden table, and in the other she is standing by a bed of flowers. She is wearing white summer dress and has a white flower in her hair. Dante chuckles in glee because now he understands why his brother has fallen so hard: the local florist is a total babe!

Dante is about to get back to his magazine when another text from Nico comes through:

Nico: Yoooooooooo

Nico: U didnt tell me that Vergil was gonna be here!

Dante: Im not my brother’s keeper!

Nico: Im NOT about to get stabbed if he catches me

Nico: Im out

Dante: WAIT

Dante: I’ll sweeten the deal!

Dante: If you get a pic of them together

Nico: DANTE

Dante: Then I’ll let you check out my guns

Dante: FOR A WEEK

A very long pause follows and Dante thinks that Nico is still going chicken out despite his sudden add on to her prize when her response chimes in:

Nico: U better hold up your end of the deal, Dante

Dante: Nicooooo u know I always keep my word!

Nico: Cuz if u dont, I’ll run u over with the van

Dante: No u wont

Nico: VROOM VROOM BITCH

Dante’s amused chuckle echoes throughout the shop. “So, that’s where you’re running off to,” he comments to himself. “The secret garden.” As he waits for Nico’s next photo, he starts to wonder what kind of a woman catches the eye of his broody brother. I mean…sure, you’re a cutie, but Dante knows that Vergil is not so easily swayed by looks alone. Of course, he could be reading into this too much and you’re actually just a really adorable friend…which is why he has to see both of you together. If Vergil has that soft smile on his face and if you show any sign of reciprocating his brother’s feelings…

His phone vibrates and Dante immediately opens the message. How's this for ya? reads Nico’s text along with a bunch of laughing emojis and a video clip. He arches an eyebrow as he presses play. He sees Nero, Kyrie, Vergil, and you all walking together by a bunch of flowers. He cannot make out the soft conversation of the group, but he does hear a lighthearted giggle as you do a twirl. Dante squints his eyes when he notices your hand reach for something in your dress…then his eyes widen as you throw petals into the air. The distinct growl of his brother comes through the audio and Dante nearly chokes on his own laugh. Some of the little pink flowers you threw…are sticking to Vergil’s hair!

I’m totally saving this just for the look on his face!

Dante kicks his feet off of the desk and he leans forward in his chair, never taking his eyes off the screen as Nero and Kyrie step out of frame. He tilts his head when Vergil kneels and you start to pluck the flowers from his hair. Dante has to rub his eyes to make sure he is really seeing these events correctly. Things get really interesting when you move in closer. The awkward expression on his brother’s face is pure gold. But what really has him pressing his nose to the screen is when Vergil stands up and you both just stare at each other. It is like a scene cut straight from a romantic movie. Dante has never seen his brother look so…totally in love. And you are mirroring the exact same expression.

Jackpot!

The video starts to shake and he hears Nico quietly cursing up a storm. The screen is a blur for a moment before it just totally cuts off. Dante is still for a while as he takes in everything that just happened. He honestly did not expect Vergil to be bitten by the love bug. A genuine smile curls on his lips as he thinks that maybe you are exactly what his brother needs to finally let go of the past and start living. But he cannot be the helpful little brother that he is without at least meeting you first. The genuine smile turns mischievous as Dante texts Nico about happened after the video ended and where exactly is this secret garden in the city...

(A Week Later...Reader’s POV)

The late afternoon sun beats down as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You examine the rambling roses you are currently pruning, checking to see if you missed anything before standing up and stretching your legs. Sweet basil, it’s hot, you thought, taking off your gardening hat and fanning your face as you pocket your pruning shears. You think about Vergil and how he always seems to keep cool while wearing a long blue coat in the summer.

The power of Sparda must also include internal air conditioning. You giggle at your own quip as you put the gardening hat back on your head and decide to take a break. As you walk through the multitude of flowers you search for any sign of the Son of Sparda among the flora. He has not called to inform you that he is stopping by today, but that does not necessarily mean he will not show up unannounced…annoyingly startling you before buttering you up with an offering of beautiful blooms.

Vergil has been regularly visiting you in your garden now. Sometimes both of you read and drink tea under the fruit trees, other times you have to work and just let him read in peace while frolicking about your garden. Every now and then he insists on looming close behind you, claiming that he wants to observe how you arrange bouquets and care for the flowers. There are a few times that you somehow rope him into helping since he is so inclined to learn and you must admit…seeing a tall and imposing man handle tiny flowers carefully is so endearing, making you fall even harder for the handsome devil.

You step through the backdoor and walk into your kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and swiftly open the door. When the cold air hits your face you sigh and just stand there for a moment to cool off as you reach for a bottle of water. You close the fridge and head to your office to check the status of a shipment on your computer while you guzzle down half of the bottle. The flowers for Nero and Kyrie’s wedding are well in supply, but you ordered some extra ribbon, wires, needles, and other miscellaneous supplies. It is a little stressful that you only have so much time to pull this off, but that only pushes you to do your utmost best to give them the best flowers they have ever seen. All seems to be order, you mentally note, finishing off your water bottle as you tab out of the website.

Time to get back to work! You go back out to the garden, grab the garden hose, and turn on the outdoor faucet. You adjust the nozzle on the hose to spray into a mist and set off to water some flowers. “Alright, my darlings!” you say cheerfully as you step up to the first section of flowers. “Who’s thirsty?” You happily spray their petals with glistening droplets as you hum softly. One of the many reasons why you enjoy gardening so much is just how tranquil it can be, your mind slipping into a peaceful state as all your worries just drift away and you feel like a flower basking in the warm sunlight.

Although, you do find yourself ceaselessly daydreaming about a certain white-haired gentleman while gardening lately. You cannot get the feel of his slicked back locks out of your thoughts, yearning to do more than just pluck petals from his hair. You wonder if the bergamot scent is from a cologne he is wearing or the constant cups of his favorite tea. And the expression on his face after you picked the stray petals from his hair…cheeks slightly blushing as his gleaming silver eyes stare straight into your soul. The very memory of it has you shivering in delight as you turn around to water the next section of flowers.

“Holy hollyhock!”

The sudden appearance of a man in a long red jacket standing in your garden has you jumping back in surprise. Your foot steps on the garden hose, making you lose your balance and start to tip over. Thankfully, the stranger has quick reflexes and quickly leans forward to catch your fall. “Whoa! Easy there!” he exclaims as he sets you upright, doing his best to avoid the misty spray of the hose still clutched in your hand. That is when you notice his distinct white hair swaying in front of his blue eyes. And his face…if it was not for the slight fuzz of a beard or the care-free expression, he would be the spitting image of Vergil. Which can only mean…

“You must be Dante.”

“What gave it away?” he asks, dramatically holding his hands out to the side as he nods his head in confirmation.

“You wouldn’t be a Son of Sparda if you didn’t scare your local gardener to death!”

Dante tilts head at your answer and smirks as he examines you from head to toe. “I dig the overalls,” he comments as he gestures to your attire. You look down at your green gardening overalls, the phrase "I like big buds and I cannot lie" imprinted on the front surrounded by large colorful flower buds.

“Thanks!” you laugh, turning off the garden hose. “I’m Y/N! I don’t recall Vergil saying that he was going to finally introduce me to you.”

“So, he’s told you about me? Did he mention that I am the better-looking twin?” he jests as he takes a step back and strikes a charmingly rugged pose.

“Uh, he mentioned that you are a demon hunter, a foolish buffoon, and…whoa!” Your eyebrows shoot up as you closely examine his coat. “Your jacket does look really expensive!”

Dante rolls his eyes as he relaxes from his over-the-top stance. “He just can’t let that go, huh?” He shakes his head and lightly chuckles.

“So…what brings you to my garden?” you inquire kindly, not letting his surprise visit distract you from being hospitable. Dante did not mention his brother being present here with him, so you hope that Vergil does not mind you being friendly and helping his brother out if he needs it.

“The girls keep telling me I need something to brighten up the shop,” he explains as he scratches the back of his head. “So, I figured some flowers from my brother’s friendly neighbor florist might do the trick.”

You smile sweetly. “Okay! Do you have any kind of flowers in mind?”

“Well, my mother’s favorite flowers were-”

“Burgundy roses!”

Dante quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just read my mind?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you shake your head. “Vergil told me that his mother had a modest garden herself, and that she grew those roses a lot. Don’t worry,” you affirm as your hand sets down the garden hose. A big confident smile spreads across your face as you twirl in excitement, pausing to strike your own cute pose. “I got you covered!”

He nods his head in approval. “Right on.”

You make small talk with Dante as you lead him to the rose section of your garden, asking if by “the girls” he means the other two demon hunters that work with him. He confirms your guess and grumbles about how unfair it is that you know so much the crew while he knows next to nothing about you. That is quickly remedied though as he bombards you with the oddest series of questions…most of them involving strawberries and pizza. When you tell him that you used to work at the local pizzeria and bakery in your home town he enthusiastically asks if you made the pizzas. You laugh at his boyish glee and inform him that you sometimes helped with the pizzas, but you mostly baked the pastries and desserts.

“Here we are!” You point to a bush full of the dark reddish-purple roses as you step through the various buds and blooms. “Roses of unconscious beauty!” Dante studies the rose bush as you approach it, lean in, and inhale their lovely fragrance. You breathe out in delight and start looking for the best blooms for a bouquet. “Aren’t they lovely?” You look over your shoulder and see that Dante is barely paying attention. His blue green eyes gaze distantly at the rose bush, reminding you a little of Vergil’s silver blue eyes when he recedes into his head. You wait a moment before deciding to coax him out of pensive stupor.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

Dante blinks and shakes his head. “Sorry about that. I was just…remembering something.” He walks over and stands next you, a small grin appears on his face as he peers down at you. “These would look nice on my desk. I’ll take ‘em.”

“Alright!” You reach into your pocket, taking out the pruning shears still stored in there and begin snipping some select roses, carefully removing the thorns before sticking them in another pocket until you can properly tie them together.

Dante quietly watches you for a few moments before he crosses his arms and leisurely leans back. “So…you and my brother.”

You snip a third rose as you glance over at him. “Me and your brother…?” you repeat, hoping he will expand upon the conversation he started. Dante just continues to gaze at you inquisitively. Your brow furrows in puzzlement as you wonder what he is trying to imply…until it suddenly hits you.

No way. He can’t be…

“Are you…Dad-terogating me?”

“Am I what now?”

“You know…that thing fathers do when daughters bring home their boyfriends.” Your voice drops as you do your best impersonation a stern father figure. “What are your intentions little girl?”

“Oh man,” Dante snickers. “And what if I am?” he counters with a puckish smirk.

“Well, Mr. Sparda,” you begin with a cheeky grin, turning to him while you clutch a thornless burgundy rose close to your chest. “I only have the best intentions towards your brother, Vergil. They include smiles, laughter, and a healthy dose of poetry with dash of tea…Oh!” You dip your hand into the front pocket of your overalls. “And lots of flower showers!” Your grin turns cheerful as you toss pink hydrangea petals high into the air.

Dante stares at you closely for a moment, totally unfazed by the petals scattering around him before he chuckles softly. “Well now…how can I argue with that? My party pooper of a brother needs it.”

You giggle and go back to snipping more roses. A fourth one is freed and you begin to remove the thorns from the stem. “It’s sweet of you to look out for him, you know,” you point out with a genuine smile. “You’re a good brother, Dante.”

He smiles back and is about to respond when an awful hellish screech fills the air. Your head snaps over to the direction it is coming from, but you already know what those sounds mean. Dante casually looks over as well, but he does not look as concerned as you. His face reminds you more of the neighborhood kids when the ice cream truck drives by. “Looks like our flower pickin’ is gonna have to wait,” he surmises as he struts briskly towards the commotion.

You pocket the pruning shears and the rose in your hand as you hurriedly follow behind him. The screeching is now really loud and as you step into to a clearing you see the familiar forms of demons just beyond the gates of your garden. Even though you live in a city known for its constant hellish attacks, the sight of their malformed bodies never fails to freeze your blood. The closest one, resembling a large corrupted bat, flies over the gate and hovers near one of your apple trees. It shrieks as its throat starts to glow red. Anger floods through your body when you register what it intends to do to your lovely fruit trees.

“Oh, no you DON’T!” you shout as you run by the gardening tools still laying out, grabbing the garden hoe as you pass by and rush towards the bat-like creature. It swivels around just as you draw your makeshift weapon back and swing up at it with all your strength. The hoe connects and a pained squeal rings out as the demon is knocked back a little bit away from the apple tree. You let out a shuddering breath, quickly realizing that perhaps smacking a demon with a gardening tool was not the best idea.

Multiple gunshots startle you out of your internal dread as they streak up at the bat-like demon. It shakes violently before it drops to the ground and disintegrates. You turn around and see Dante holstering two guns behind his back before giving you a round of applause. “Not bad! Very inventive use of…” his hands pause as he inspects your tool curiously.

“It’s a hoe,” you bluntly inform him.

“Really?” Dante puts his hands on his hips as he circles around you, shielding you from the oncoming demons notice. “Well then…you really know how to handle a hoe!”

You snort and check your tool for any signs of it being broken or bent. “You know what they say…a dirty hoe is a happy hoe!” you joke, flashing him the disgusting bloody residue on the tip. Dante hunches over as a hearty laugh burst from his lips. You feel a sense of accomplishment at making such a clever gardening pun, but it is short lived as a series of terrible growls and roars remind you of the current danger. “Umm,” you mutter softly, “as much as I would like to give more demons a good hoeing…”

Dante reigns in his boisterous laughter and nods. “Yeah...get yourself to safety.” He runs and skillfully jumps over the gate. Before he goes to deal with the demons, he looks over his shoulder at you. “Even though I’m not a hoe I can still get rid of these nasty weeds,” he quips with a wink.

You laugh and shake your head at his own gardening pun before retreating back to your house, sighing in relief as your backdoor comes into view. When you are a few feet away from safety, a low rumbling growl reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. You still have your garden hoe, so you hold it up in defense as you scan your surroundings for any immediate threat. It is quiet for a moment…then a series obscure red streaks zoom around you. Your eyes try to track whatever is circling you, but you cannot see what is stalking you like prey.

Your body is quaking now as you turn around to glance behind you. A lizard-like demon with a vicious red blade protruding from one of its scaly arms is leaping through the air straight at you. Your instincts kick in and you raise your gardening tool up in defense, even though you feel certain that it will not enough to block that sharp blade. A series of tumultuous emotions sling around your mind, but one strongly overtakes you as the image of Vergil pops into your head…regret.

I didn’t even get to tell him that-

Before you are able to close your eyes and brace yourself for the deadly impact, a sudden blur of blue spheres pop up and knock back your scaly assailant. A familiar form clad in a blue coat suddenly appears next to the demon and proceeds to hit it with a series of slashes. When he finishes his ruthless onslaught, he turns his back on the demon and dramatically sheaths his sword. Just as the hilt of the sword slams into the case, the demon convulses in pain one last time before collapsing on the ground.

The regret you felt earlier fades away as your devilish rescuer turns towards you. The usual scowl on his face is now even more severe as he scrutinizes your appearance. He may be fuming with rage, but you do not mind, nor do you care. “Vergil!” you cry, trying to thank him for saving your life, but you feel so overwhelmed that no words come out. All you can do is smile gratefully as your eyes well up with tears, so happy that you get to see the man you feel so deeply for again after all.

Read Part 6 (Ch. 2) here

Read on my Ao3

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Tagging: @drusoona, @thedyingmoon, @bettybattaglia, @veenus-ow, @meowykittenn, @fandomhell97, @vergilsangel, @venomous-lawyer, @alicewinchester

#vergil x reader #vergil #devil may cry #dmc 5 #romance #fluff #flowers #the language of flowers #gardener reader #writing #fanfiction #humor #meeting the family #hijinks and shenanigans #wingman dante #A Rose of Unconscious Beauty #a rose among the briars #and just like that a legendary wingman is born #harlot writes

[burlybanner]

Syzygy

Notes: New story. Will be putting it in installments, probably once/week. This is more or less to keep me honest with writing it. If I don’t, I won’t finish. I know me far too well. It’s a monster, probably close to NaNoWriMo levels if I’m honest. But it’s a nice monster. Note the tags.

Syzygy

Rating: M (themes/language mostly)

Pairing: Stark Spangled Banner

Special note: an AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Summary:  They’d always been a triad - sun and moon, encircling a heavenly body...

***

The question was so out of the blue, so perplexing, so - fuck no, he must be losing his hearing - insane that Tony dropped the spanner. It bounced and clanged angrily across the lab's cement floor causing one bot - U - to chirp softly and pick it up. U tried returning it to its creator by repeating bumping against his leg, but Tony focused on one thing right now. One person.

"Run that by me again?"

"You heard me." Bruce Banner stared at an oil smudge between their feet. It was twisted in an odd shape, reminiscent of pancake-shaped licorice. "I don't think I need to repeat myself."

"Oh hell, no. No." Tony yanked the spanner from U's grip and tapped his shoulder with it while pacing the floor. "You don't drop a bombshell like that without giving a guy a hint. What brought this on?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly."

"It looks comfortably soothing, I’m tired of running, I like who I am...and." He bit down his response, holding it between his teeth, but Tony could see Bruce mentally shifting gears - frustratingly choosing to conceal a portion of truth. A skill Bruce was, unfortunately, still good at doing.

Bruce sighed. "Maybe I'm warming up to full-on pampering from you and Steve. Do I really need to explain myself?"

"All right, fine. I...get it. Sort of." Tony paused mid-pace and gave Bruce the side-eye, but not without sauntering over to his extremely significant other while poking him in his gut (and Tony's finger sunk in a good five inches, before Bruce swatted his hand away).

Like diving into fresh dough, Tony thought wickedly.  

“Stop that.”

"Whatever. I'm just saying, you're what. Three-sixty? Three-seventy?"

"Three-ninety."

Tony tutted his tongue against his teeth, his eyes scanning Bruce from head to toe. He'd overlooked how round and jowly Bruce's cheeks had become and how much more his heavy belly wobbled over his belt like an over-inflated water balloon.

Tony slowly scraped his lower lip with his teeth and let his libido drink in Bruce's delicious form.  His fat had dissolved all his chiseled edges, smoothing them like candle wax, dimpling him in places Tony never expected to notice. Arms, legs, face, chin, chest, neck - even elbows and fingers Pillsburied up into scrumptious fat. Bruce'd blown up like a county fair attraction and Tony couldn't tell where he'd even put on the extra twenty; Bruce’s fat had settled into all his body’s spare nooks and crannies. All that lovely jiggling Jell-o. Waiting for touches, prods, tickles, and gropes—

"Earth to Tony," Bruce muttered, snapping his fingers in Tony's slackened face.

Tony snorted, pretending Bruce hadn't mesmerized him and turned him so the fuck on. Was he becoming more like Cap these days? Wouldn't doubt it. "ANY-hoo," Tony said, grabbing a rolling chair. He took inventory of Bruce more thoroughly by rolling around the scientist, taking a good 360-look while Bruce stared at his circular pattern.

"Are you trying to orbit me?"

Tony laughed. "No. Although that could be an experiment for another day." Tony poked and prodded Bruce’s flab, freely grabbing fistfuls of his favorite butterball and fluffing his ample butt cheeks.

"Tony," Bruce cautioned.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"What are you plotting?"

"Me, plotting? Perish the thought. I'm planning, Banner. I have ideas, I have a million ideas. But we're gonna have to get Cap involved. He'll want to know."

Bruce fidgeted somewhat, which surprised Tony. Didn't seem like something Bruce would be shy about.

"So soon?"

"Well, yah, the sooner the better." Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "What's bugging you, Care Bear?"

"Nothing," Bruce said, but Tony didn't believe him. He let it slide as he rolled back to his desk.

" 'Nothing' for now, babe, but I'll challenge that declaration later." He did a quick calculation in his head and pulled up Jarvis' keyboard. "J, open a new file for me. Call it, 'Operation Supermax.' "

"Seriously?"

"Don't mock the name, Brucie Bear. It's not like I had time to come up with something better."

"New file created," Jarvis intoned, flooding the room with his soothing AI voice. "Would you like to add to it now, sir?"

Tony grinned at Bruce. "Scan Brucie for me, Jarvis. Put all his current vitals in there. Show us what we're working with."

Jarvis threw up a 3D image of Bruce‘s body and stats. “I will say, I'm quite curious, sirs."

"So‘re we, J. Especially interested in what'll happen after we tell Cap."

Bruce looked less enthused at telling Steve, but whatever. Steve was their partner; not telling him would be ridiculous. "Sure you don't wanna say why you're lookin' grim?"

"I'm not grim," Bruce stated, and Tony waggled his finger at Bruce's lie.

"Not my monkeys, not my circus. But you know Steve'll get it out of you if I can't, Pooh."

"I know."

"Easier to rip off the band-aid."

"I said I knew, didn't I?"

"Fine, fine." Tony toggled a few buttons on his keyboard. "J, call Steve down. We're gonna have a family meeting."

**

But Steve relayed a message through Jarvis saying he'd meet up after he'd finished his workout.  Bruce had grabbed five pounds' worth of snacks and wanted to wait for Steve in the media room, but Tony cajoled and wheedled him until he caved. Which was why he ended up joining Tony in the exercise room instead, ogling Steve's lifting routine.  Well, “cajoling and wheedling” wasn’t exactly right, to be fair. Watching Steve work out was a damn privilege.

"I feel like a stalker," Bruce muttered, unwrapping one of his remaining chocolate bars. He wasn't not staring, though.

"He probably knows we're here. He says he doesn't, but I think he does. I'm just obeyin' my thirst."

"Quit watching those dumb commercials." Bruce scarfed down his jumbo Snickers bar with two or three grateful grunts and gulped down his soda. And no, Bruce's Adam's Apple bobbing so deliciously up and down did not mesmerize Tony. Certainly not.

Nope.

"Mmf--and/or, get off social media. Sounds like you’re trying too hard to fit in with the cool kids."

"Heh. You can't tell me Steve doesn't like teasing us right back." Tony pointed his chin at Steve powerlifting weights rivaling Thor's class. "Look at 'im, you can't tell me he's not a thirst trap."

Bruce made a face as he tossed his wrapper and soda can in the trash. "Definitely too much social media."

Tony's eye lingered over Bruce's dwindling dragon hoard of snacks, which teased a lecherous smile from his lips. "You startin' early, or what?"

"Gotta keep up my strength."

"Mhm." Tony went into his head, thinking about how Steve'd go bonkers. In a good way. Probably in a good way. "You know Steve'll have his own ideas. You gonna let him go hog wild?"

"Oh, hardy-har." Bruce tore into a packet of mini donuts. "Yeah, okay, fine," he grunted. A smattering of donut crumbs sprayed from his full mouth before he put a hand to his lips to stop them. "You figured out why I'm apprehensive. Don't rub it in."

"I'm not tryin' to, Brucie. In fact, I think you're blowing this up way out of proportion." And don't think Tony didn't recognize the pun, even if Bruce didn't. He casually watched Bruce scrape crumbs from his shirt. "Don't you think he cares enough that h--"

"Oh, hey, fellas!"

Steve finally noticed them salivating in front of the spy window. Which was what Tony called it. Really, it was a breezeway with a window to the exercise rooms so folks could check for occupied training floors. But Tony mostly used it to indulge his naturally nosy nature.

Steve grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around his neck while Tony bit his tongue. Making lewd comments was tempting and although Steve wouldn't have minded, Bruce would get skittish if he ramped up the tension now. And if Bruce bolted, well...kinda made what he was about to do moot.

"What's up?" Steve dabbed sweat from his forehead and plunked next to Bruce on the thirst trap bench. His cheeks reddened when he noticed the mound of opened goodies. "Is it an emergency? Fury call us in?"

"Oh, nothing like that," Tony said. He propped his feet beneath the breezeway window. "Bruce has something he wants to say."

Bruce wiped powdered sugar off his lips while swallowing thickly. "Well, not...exactly."

"Yeah, ya do, exactly," Tony said, nudging Bruce's shoulder. "Boy Scout," he said, calling to Steve. "D'you think you could steel yourself enough to not act like a kid in a candy store?"

"Tony..."

"Bruce, hon', it's all good. Steve," he started again. Poor guy already looked five kinds of confused. "It's something that'll affect the three of us but unless Bruce explains with his big boy words I'm not gonna help him."

"Traitor," Bruce huffed.

"Only way to kick you out of the nest."

"What," Steve said, finally getting a word in edgewise, "the hell. Are you two talking about?"

Bruce shot Tony a narrow look before turning to Steve. "It's...it's not enough," he began slowly. "I-I mean, we're fine," he stuttered, gesturing to each of them. "We're great. But I want. I want more. And I'm not sure how you'll take it."

"Just know," Tony interrupted, "I'm on board 100% if you are. But I'm looking at this from a scientific perspective more than--"

"I thought you said I should tell him."

"Well, you're taking too long, Banner. Cut to the chase!"

Steve held up a hand, motioning both to shut their traps. "Thank you," he said once they quieted. "Now. Bruce. Muffin." He stroked Bruce's chubby cheek and Bruce melted like butter in his hand. "Gimme the specifics. Let me decide if I'll be okay or not with whatever it is."

But Tony could see the small trembling smile on Cap's features; Steve was noticeably scared. He made a face, hoping Bruce hurried it up before causing irreparable damage.

"I want," Bruce sighed heavily. His glance went back and forth at the men in his life, then to his hands. "I'm not exactly happy at my current weight."

Steve's lips thinned. He looked like someone had taken his favorite toy away, but the expression fled before Bruce caught it.

Tony noticed, though.

"So you want to lose weight," Steve sighed. He kept his voice level but Tony detected his disappointment. "Well, I understand. It's not like we expected it forever and--"

"No," Bruce interrupted, quieter than before. He wrapped his hand around Steve's, stilling the man's jitters. "You've misunderstood. It's...ah. It's the opposite."

Steve's cheeks flared while Tony choked back laughter from Steve's startled expression.

"W-what? You wanna gain more?"

Bruce slowly nodded. "I know you've always been encouraging, and you seemed satisfied when I tapered off. But I really like it when you and Tony feed me." Bruce reached for Tony's hand and rubbed his thumb across their knuckles. "I like breakfasts in bed, lazy nights watching B movies, and eating crappy takeout. I like feeling overstuffed, and the headiness the feeling brings me. I think I've gotten as large as I can on my own. So I'll need help from you and Tony to get...um. Larger."

Steve visibly gulped. "Um. H...how much larger are we talkin'--?"

Bruce glanced Tony's way, and Tony encouraged him with a nod. "Um. To a point where I can  stay sedentary. I'm happy at home - I'm happy here. With us. I don't want to run anymore, and I want to feel grounded. Literally. So--"

"He wants to become immobile," Tony explained, butting in again. "Which is no mean feat, with his metabolism. Even with Bed, even with all the snacking and meals he gets, he's probably leveled off. But if we're talkin' immobility, we're probably addin' another three hundred to him, more or less."

Cap let out a shaky sigh. "Whoa..."

Tony shrugged. "Again, more or less. Depends on what 'immobile' means to a guy like Bruce. 'Course you know," Tony said, sobering. "He's wouldn't be totally immobile, not really." His dark eyes roamed Bruce, emphasizing the seriousness of his next words. "The only way that would happen is if we separated him from the Hulk."

"Which I'm not asking for," Bruce quickly piped. "That's not my goal."

"Good. 'Cause that's more than my paygrade. What'dya think, Spangles?" Tony turned to Steve. "You in, or what?"

"I...I'm not even sure." His expression remained pensive before hovering between Tony and Bruce. "I think I want to understand what that means before I agree to it. It'll change our 'rules,' our dynamics, the team--"

"Absolutely," Bruce agreed. "But I guess...I'd like to retire, if that's okay. From the team. I've already spoken with the university--"

"What?"

"You have?"

Bruce motioned for his boyfriends to calm down.  "I'm not giving up teaching, I'm just switching to an online format. I'll still be an adjunct but I won't teach in person or in front of a classroom. And besides..." He sighed, but a small smile teased his lips. "I won't be mobile enough for a classroom. At least that's what I'm hoping."

Tony shared a look with Steve who looked both mesmerized and stunned. But then Tony noticed something else a sly, (dare he say it), evil mastermind grin on Steve's face rivaling their greatest enemies.

"Steve. Your bad boy expression is showing," Tony muttered.

"I know, I know," Steve breathed. "But I kinda I wanna know how soon we can start."

Part two: https://burlybanner.tumblr.com/post/185854349769/syzygy-2

#syzygy #bruce banner #tony stark #steve rogers #chubby bruce banner #more warnings to come as story progresses #has some dark elements to it #magnum opus piece #stark spangled banner #infundo #infundo au #chapter 1 #starkspangledbanner syzygy

[shibyn]

and the wind sounds like the world’s sigh

persona 4 & 5 | shiho-centric, investigation team Near the end of May, Shiho transfers to a sleepy town called Inaba for a fresh start. However, Inaba isn’t the sleepy town her parents thought would be best for her— its on edge with unsolved mysteries, and Shiho finds that there’s a bit more behind what meets the eye regarding some of her classmates and a TV screen.

chapter 2 | 3.8k | ao3

Shiho smiles. She tries to force her grip on her phone to loosen up, even just a bit, so her knuckles don't creak against it. In the classroom beside her, Morooka shouts loud enough she's sure the whole school can hear him. It makes her tense up a bit-- he wasn't that pleasant of a teacher first impression wise. He had scoffed when she walked into the teacher's office, and he grumbled the whole way to the classroom. She just hopes today's an off day for him. 

Shiho jerks awake as thunder cracks outside her window. The shutters rattle outside, and she can feel her bones vibrating with the resonance. Sheets of rain crash against her window, deafening, yet a mere white noise compared to the thunder. Sudden alarm hums in her veins, and she groans, knowing she won't sleep anytime soon. Her mom told her about this, hadn't she--? The neighbor warned there was going to be a storm tonight. There's been a lot of storms recently, her mom recalled the neighbor's words. She rolls on her side and tries burying her head in blankets and pillows so it could maybe muffle it all, but it's fruitless. The air still cracks with the thunder and her whole room is lit with a flash. A dread settles in her bones when she looks towards her closet door. The Yasogami uniform hangs on the door handle like a mourning flag. The yellow looks solemn in the dark, occasionally illuminated a sickly glow by the lightning outside. She hadn't tried it on, yet-- it felt like an acceptance of her fate if she did, but-- really? She's already here. Might as well deal with it. Yet-- and yet-- The buzz of her phone is sudden, even in the noise around her. She feels around for it-- her hand eventually brushes against the plastic case underneath her pillow, and she pulls it out. Clicking it on, the brightness nearly blinds her for a moment, even though it's on its lowest setting. Ann [1:42 A.M.] hhhhhhhhhh inui's gonna killl meeeee i dont care about  the ancient olympics >:// can fail this test ,, pls,, i havent slept in days,,, Shiho snorts despite herself. The sky rumbles outside, and she keys out a response. Shiho [1:43 A.M.] idk... if you started earlier you could've had more time to sleep :// Ann [1:43 A.M.] what are u doing up young lady u better be going back to sleep and dont give me that!! u know my heart is dedicated to rewatching sailor moon Shiho [1:43 A.M.] says the one who messaged me sailor moon would want you to forgo watching her show and to study Ann [1:44 A.M.] have u even SEEN sailor moon? shed be in the same boat im in She's miles away, miles and miles away. It-- god, it's going to be awful, tomorrow-- Ann won't be there. She won't be there, she won't be there waiting at the metro, she won't greet her in the mornings with the smile that lights the days. She doesn't want to go, she can't go, she doesn't know anyone there, she doesn't want to go-- Shiho takes in a steadying breath. Her phone buzzes even though she hadn't responded. Ann [1:44 A.M.] ur first day is tomorrow, yeah? hows the uniform? Shiho [1:45 A.M.] [image attached] what are your words, oh fashion goddess Ann [1:45 A.M.] hm.... it'll look cute on u definitely one hell of a uniform... doesnt beat shujin plaid, tho ;)) have u gotten any sleep? Shiho [1:45 A.M.] I have, worry about yourself !! I dont wanna go The uniform looms in the corner of her eyes. She's tired, so tired, her knees ache, she wants to go home. But now this is home-- this house, in the middle of nowhere, Inaba, filled with moving boxes and tense silences and unspoken thoughts. It's been like that since she left the hospital, even at the old apartment back in Tokyo, and-- when has home felt like home? Ann [1:46 A.M.] i know im sorry ill be here for ya, yeah? just one year there you can do it!! Shiho squeezes her phone. She wishes she could have an ounce of the confidence Ann has for her. — Ann [8:14 A.M.] so?? first impressions?? Shiho [8:14 A.M.] its,, like any other school? maybe smaller than shujin? i might just be use to having the school smack dab in the center of the city, tho Ann [8:14 A.M.] isnt it just hills and hills out there?? god... its kinda spooky to think about that... no crazy tall buildings within miles... Shiho [8:15 A.M.] hey, i think it's pretty quant out here Shiho smiles. She tries to force her grip on her phone to loosen up, even just a bit, so her knuckles don't creak against it. In the classroom beside her, Morooka shouts loud enough she's sure the whole school can hear him. It makes her tense up a bit-- he wasn't that pleasant of a teacher first impression wise. He had scoffed when she walked into the teacher's office, and he grumbled the whole way to the classroom. She just hopes today's an off day for him. Ann [8:15 A.M.] sure, sure how does it feel?? being one with nature?? ahh the cool spring breeze, the pollutionless air--!! Shiho [8:15 A.M.] i think that pollution is finally messing with your head Ann [8:15 A.M.] HEY!!! The door slides open abruptly beside her, making her jump and nearly launch her phone down the hall. She shoves it quickly into her pocket, swiping at her skirt for dirt that wasn't there. Morooka sneers, which looks kinda strange with his overbite. "You kids these days and your damn phones..." he spits, and stalks back to the podium without another word. Her hands shake, so she clenches them to keep them still. She takes a deep breath, thinking, please let this be a woke-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-bed morning, and steps in after him. The first thing she notices is that the class is dead silent. They stare at her owlishly, and briefly, she thinks something's wrong. Is her uniform crooked? Backwards? Inside out--? Her hair weird? The humidity might've made it flick up in weird places-- She spent so long this morning making sure everything was alright, though it was more out of an anxious habit rather than to make a good impression-- Was-- was she walking weird? She straightens her back, eyes focused on her feet, right, left, right, left, one after the other-- she didn't think her limp was bad today-- Her fingernails bite into her palm and stands beside Morooka's podium. It's okay, it'll be okay, she thinks like a mantra, trying hard not to show her nerves. She won't--can't-- let something like being introduced to class let her stumble. They're looking because they're curious, she reasons, which does a significant amount to reducing the tension in her back, they're not looking because they're malicious. They're not looking because you walk weird. They're not. It's okay.

"Lets hurry an' get this over with before I waste any more of my time," Morooka says, scowling in her direction. The tension regrows along her spine from his scrutiny. Just as she opens her mouth to introduce herself, he cuts her off-- "Due to some trashy circumstances, this kid's been tossed to this dump not even a quarter through the stinkin' year. Couldn't even wait till the end of the semester, huh?" He looks towards her, as if actually asking her.

Her limbs suddenly feel like they're locking up under his mocking glare. Her mouth goes dry. Is this for real? she thinks, a bit astounded, because wouldn't the teachers here be warned of-- "I..." she starts, maybe to say something back, because he's looking at her like he wants an answer. But-- what is there to say? What answer can she give? She doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want her to be here, so-- Is this what it was like for Akira? Shiho thinks fleetingly, glancing towards her new classmates yet not at all-- none of them wear an expression, an indication, even a hint of what she should do-- he-- he had it so much worse, didn't he? People thought he was awful before he even stepped foot in the school-- "Well? Hurry an' tell them who ya are." He sounds agitated. He motions back towards the class like it's a dismissal. Shiho chews on the inside of her cheek and tries to steel her nerves. "I'm. I'm Suzui Shiho," she says, trying not to trip up with all the eyes on her, "It's nice to meet you." "You shits better not think about tryin' anything funny," Morooka says abruptly, his eyes darting from boy to boy with a nasty glare. "She's comin' straight from Tokyo, and while that place is a shithole and full of assholes, none of you baboons can measure up. I better not see any funny business goin' on later!" Are— are teachers allowed to curse this much? Shiho blinks, glancing towards him. She doesn't know whether or not to be grateful-- it's hard to tell with the mix of insults in his words. No one in the class looks put-off by his word choice, which doesn't exactly help. "You, you're gonna sit over there," he says, motioning vaguely in the direction of the second to last row of desks, near the door. She takes this as her leave, trying not to acknowledge the eyes following her as she sits down in her seat. The girl next to her is silent, staring openly, chin propped up in her hand, eyes half-closed. Some people towards the front of the class crane around in their seats, peering at her. She tries to ignore the stares, the whispers that quietly arise, and she twiddles her thumbs. This is awful, awful-- Soon enough, Morooka starts teaching (can she call it that? it's more aggressive than any teacher she's ever seen-- Ushimaru can’t even top it) and focus is shifted off her for a while. She slips her phone out of her pocket, trying to discreetly hide the fact that she's on it. Honestly-- she doesn't care. Her body's too tense and high strung and she really just wants to see Ann. Ann [8:16 A.M.] shiho? ya still there? Shiho [8:24 A.M.] I think my homeroom teacher beats ryuji in terms of how much he swears Ann [8:24 A.M.] oh!! did u just get introduced to your class!! how was it!! Shiho [8:24 A.M.] not. the best? i kinda just want the day to be over aren't you meant to be focusing on class Ann [8:25 A.M.] youre much more important than whatever ushimarus talking about :// besides!! u say that as if we didnt text each other during class time at all !! be sure to message me when your break and lunch is!! ill try to keep messages in those time so i dont get ya in trouble so early on so!! im gonna go radio silent for now so ya dont get scolded good luck!! ♥♥ message me if ya need anything!!! The corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly. — Shiho's never been one for being the center of attention. It was just a guarantee, being quiet-natured and friends with a foreign-looking student that everyone seemed to have a vendetta against. Ann's always been the one to dispel unwanted attention previously, too. But she's not here-- so when a couple of students crowd around her desk after class ends, she can feel herself freezing up. "So, you're from Tokyo, too!" One peppy girl says, her hair pulled into a half pony tail. "What chance! It's so rare to get transfers here in the same year! And for them to be from Tokyo!" "I wonder if it's gonna be a trend, like more people from the city will come flooding in," the girl with glasses says. "How's the jump, huh?" The boy who sits in front of her asks, sitting backwards in his seat to face her. She bristles at the question, ice creeping in her veins. He grins innocently, to which she realizes of course they wouldn't know, don't worry, its just weird phrasing, "Seta-san didn't say much about it. What about you? From the city to the middle of nowhere?" Its quiet for a beat, and Shiho really wished they weren't looking at her. "It's... alright, I mean," Shiho says slowly, trying to choose words that aren't too strong in feeling. She had lived in Tokyo for her whole life, and the countryside is so, so different, but she doesn't know how to explain the feeling to these people. She doesn't think any of them will really understand what it's like to be plunged into silence after being surrounded by noise her whole life. "It's... kinda nice being able to see an actual hillside when I walk around, though?" The girl with glasses giggles at her response. "Nature over industry, right? Seta-san adjusted pretty quickly, so I don't think it should be a problem for you!" Well, sure. But that's also Seta-san. Seta-san probably wasn't booted from his home, his friends, his life, all because of the decisions that were outside of his reach, and then dumped off in a place so different, so far away from all he's known. She isn't Seta-san, and she doesn't want to be here. Shiho smiles instead and pinches the back of her hand. "Hopefully." "Have you had the chance to wonder around Inaba yet?" the boy in front of her asks idly. Shiho briefly wonders how long break is, so she doesn't have to sit through much longer of this. She wishes this could just end. She wishes the day would end. "I have," she says, trying to ward off the strain in her spine. "Um, I didn't get to see much, though. We only went to a noodle place, really, which wasn't far..." "Oh! You mean Shishio's Noodle Bar?" One of the girl chimes. Shiho can only nod yes, because she doesn't really know what place it was and it seemed like the proper thing to say. "I love that place! They just put the right amount of sauce on, and the perfect amount of meat in!" the girl gushes, "There's tons of independent restaurants around here, and all of them are incredible!! You really need to try them all, Suzui-san!" Shiho tries to say something back, maybe like the noodles were great or what are your favorite places or just ok, because that seems like the things to say, she can't just give up having an okay school year here just because she doesn't want to be here, right? Even if her skin is crawling at the prospect of conversation with strangers. Ann would want her to try, wouldn't she? And besides, these people-- they're trying to make the effort to talk to her, she has to at least respond. Maybe they want to be friends? But— she finds herself drowned out the second she opens her mouth. "Oh, have you been to the Steak House recently?" the glasses girl asks, unknowingly right over Shiho's quiet words, "they added a new flavor and a kebob option! It's super tasty!" "No way! I gotta try some now! You wanna come with me after school?" "Definitely! You wanna come, Asahi?" "Oh, hell yeah! I'd never pass up going to that place!" "We can go if it's not raining after school. I swear, all it's been doing is raining! Some spring it is..." "It's karma! We didn't get much snow, so now we have tons of rain." Ah. Suddenly, it's like a void has grown around her and the people lounging on the desks around her. She knows these people are trying, maybe, trying to welcome her here, to make her not feel lonely, maybe to be friends, but-- she doesn't feel there, not physically, with people talking all around her, and-- She squeezes her phone. It'd be rude to pull it out and text Ann, wouldn't it? These people seem nosey, they might ask her who-- "Ah, isn't the Steak House near where the police are hanging out, though?" The boy asks solemnly, arms crossed over the back of his chair. "The street might be blocked off, since they're investigating every corner of Inaba." The glasses girl grumbles aloud. "What a pain! I swear, they're just everywhere now-a-days, especially since Tatsumi went missing..." Tatsumi. Shiho remembers that name. She remembers the police officer asking her and her father, in the dark of night, if they knew where the kid was. Wasn't he a student at Yasogami? These-- these people don't seem particularly alarmed that he's missing. "I, uh--" Shiho starts, curiosity bubbling out of her. Should she even ask-- well-- it's a little late to recoil, with the curious expression on the boy's face and the two girls peering at her. She swallows, and starts again. "I-- who... who is Tatsumi Kanji?"

The reaction... isn't what she expected, if she's being truthful. The boy's mouth twists into a brief sneer, the girls scowling. It's like she spoke words of taboo, and not someone's name. "Tatsumi? He's just a punk." The boy waves it off, like he isn't someone missing. "All he knows how to do is pick a fight. Some first year asshole-- thought he was on top of the school..." "Don't worry about him, Suzui-san," one girl says politely, yet it's the furthest thing from it, "he's probably off with a gang doing who knows what-- drugs, getting drunk, whatever. He's total a creep." And. And it hits her like how it was with Akira. She remembers dimly, words of warning, pointing fingers, averted gazes, all regarding a transfer student with curly hair and dorky glasses, don't speak to him, he's a criminal, you know? Akira only wanted to live quietly, and yet-- his whole life in Tokyo, shattered, from day one. Yet-- yet he was nothing like what people said, he wasn't a bad person. Ann trusts him, trusts him wholeheartedly. She told Shiho that he's exactly the dork that he looks like, he loves Big Bang burger challenges, he loves cats, he's a prankster, he-- he didn't deserve to have everyone scorn him-- And she remembers the quiet confession of Mishima to her, his hands shaking violently, eyes glassed over, he told me to. He told me to ruin Kurusu's life, to share the criminal records. All because of Kamoshida-- Shiho doesn't know Tatsumi Kanji, doesn't know if he's actually a creep or a punk or an asshole, but he's still missing. Shouldn't-- shouldn't they in the least care--? "Hey, lay off." They all turn— there's a group of kids sitting in the middle section of the classroom, two of them glaring. The two glaring are both brunettes, and there's a black-haired girl trying to divert their attention, with quiet 'don't start a fight, you guys--' yet with a hard look in her eyes, and a gray-haired boy sitting down, a mix of a scowl and a simple frown on his face. His eyes are sharp, but he's not stand-offish as the other two. A girl scowls in front of her. "What are you talking about, Hanamura?" "Tatsumi isn't some creep or asshole. All of you just are judging him without knowing who he really is," the brunette girl says, fists clenched by her sides. "I don't know about that," the boy in front of her says languidly, "Don't you know the kind of deals he's been making with those biker gangs? He's a delinquent, through-and-through." The brunette boy looks ready to retaliate, but the bell cuts him off before he can start. The people around her disperse, her seat mate returns, and class starts. Shiho fiddles with her phone, and wants to leave. — Shiho resorts to fleeing from the classroom when lunch begins, hoping to avoid any curious classmates and to maybe figure her way around the building. She opted out for lunch, anyways-- she left the box on the counter, knowing that she might not be able to eat with her stomach roiling with nervous energy from being in this school. The halls are sparse with students. Some talking, some wandering, some staring. She bristles, knowing she’s like a sore thumb in this school-- in Inaba, really, which is apparently so countryside that a new family moving in was about the most intriguing thing around. That can’t possibly be true-- sure, Inaba wasn’t big, the high school even smaller, but there’s no way that this community was so tightly knit that everyone knew everyone so anyone outside of the goddamn place was the most interesting person around, with stories of places so far away. There’s a train station here, it can’t be like there’s no outsiders around. She just wishes Ann was responding so she could keep her attention off the lingering looks and curious glances. She heads up a flight of stairs, trying to scope a library she might be able to stake out lunch in for the rest of the school year. It’s always quiet in the library, and hopefully it’ll keep any students from trying to talk to her. Especially with just being there, in the classroom, surrounded but alone, included but only because of proximity-- she doesn’t think she has the guts to really talk with anyone today, anyways. She might not have the guts to talk in the next few weeks-- she’s never been the new kid, never been in a different house, never not been surrounded by busy streets, she’s only known her home in Tokyo. She can’t find the library or any club rooms, which is kinda strange. Maybe they’re on the first floor? There’s another set of stairs ahead of her; it’s either the rooftop, or another floor that might have them. She doesn’t see anyone else heading up, so it must be the roof? Ah. Well, she’s still got time to explore. The roof might be a place of solitude if the library isn’t. Kinda ironic, she thinks fleetingly, footsteps quiet as she goes up. The hallway is bright with light from a set of doors-- it’s the roof. There’s no signs or anything to keep students out, so Yasogami must be one of those schools where the roofs are open. Shujin wasn’t, but it’s not like anyone really cared. She briefly wonders how things would be if they did. She opens the door, and the wind immediately seems to pick up the second she does, sending her hair whipping around behind in her pony tail.  The air’s weighty with rain soon to come, but it’s only fairly cloudy out. Ah, wow-- the roof is clean, free of abandoned desks and instead has an applaudable amount of solar panels set up. There’s a couple of students up here already, talking amongst themselves and picking at bento boxes resting on their laps. It’s a big, open space. It’s nearly strange not to see tall buildings blotting out the sky, or casting long shadows over the rooftop. It sets the roof as a whole different entity in her mind-- her knees ache, but not in the same crippling way they did on Shujin’s, when she stood up there with Ann and Akira and tried to keep face while looking down. It’s bright, clean, and she can see the sky. So. Maybe it is a kind of fresh start. She still hates Inaba and wants to be back in Tokyo, but hey, it’s something.

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 4 #p4 #persona #shiho suzui #ann takamaki

[kivaember]

(This fic sorta reflects my current state of being l o l honestly, burn out is the worst fucking thing to endure and i am s u f f e r i n g from it so much. So I vented with this, and kinda explored a few of Aymeric’s other relationships.

Also for the fishing bit, Aza and his FC were pretty much doing this)

As always, Aymeric woke up at the crack of dawn.

It was to an empty bed, so he thankfully didn’t have to go through the torturous ordeal of untangling himself from Aza’s arms and slipping out without him waking up (impossible). He did so love his partner, but some days he he just wanted get to work on time without having to rush because Aza decided to imitate a rather clingy, amorous limpet.

The sun was just peeking over the twisting spires of the Holy See when Aymeric emerged from his home, dressed, fed and waiting for his coffee to kick in. His feet took him along the well worn path towards the Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly (he needed to find a way to shorten that into something that didn’t sound so… cultish), the air almost pleasantly mild. It was ‘summer’ for Ishgard now, and that brought with it weak sunshine, gentle breezes and rain. It boded well for a possible thawing of the permafrost that clung to this land, though he doubted they would be able to reproduce their previous agricultural output for another few years yet.

The foot traffic was light this early in the morning, so Aymeric was utterly alone as he descended the steps from the Pillars to the lower levels of Ishgard. It meant he could break decorum a little and stifle a yawn behind his hand, feeling ragged to the bone. Gods, he always felt so exhausted when Aza wasn’t here. As distracting as his partner could be, he certainly slept easier when they-

-something abruptly jabbed him hard in his kidneys.

“Fuck-” he blurted in utter surprise, his foot slipping on the step and almost sending him on an embarrassing tumble, if not for the strong hand gripping his bicep. His lower back throbbed from the very painful jab he just took, and, face slightly red from embarrassment, regained his footing and turned to see-

“That’s another stabbin’ you coulda hand,” the ‘Mongrel’ smiled at him, all teeth, “C’mon, Lord Commander. I’ve told ya before about this route. Ambush points everywhere.”

Aymeric’s shoulders slumped, and Hilda kindly released his arm to give him a short pat on the shoulder, somehow making the gesture of reaching up not look too ridiculous.

“Lady Ware,” he sighed wearily.

“Hilda. I ain’t a lady.”

“Lady Ware,” Aymeric repeated, just to be contrary and because he got some vindication at watching her wrinkle her nose in disgust at him, “Thank you for scaring another five months off my lifespan. How many deaths is that now?”

“Two hundred an’ fifty somethin’ or other,” Hilda said, and jabbed him in the ribs again before he could move away, “Yer self-awareness is shite. It’s a miracle you ain’t been stabbed again, what with all them lords sharpening their daggers every time your back’s turned.”

“It probably has to do with the fact that you loiter in the dark corners they’d normally try to stab me from,” Aymeric said, his voice dry as dust, “The key to a successful assassination is not to do it with witnesses, you see.”

“Smarmy bastard,” Hilda said fondly, “Still, I can’t loiter in all the dark corners. I got a life outside of looking at your arse all day.”

“Duly noted,” Aymeric sighed, and inclined his head, “Walking the same way?”

“Yup,” Hilda said with a cocksure smile, boldly moving in step with him as they continued their way.

It was a queer friendship, he knew, if it could even be called friendship. It wasn’t a conventional relationship in the slightest, an alliance of necessity to smooth over any snarls and tangled between the Temple Knights and the newly established City Watch. Several knights, and lords, were somewhat disgruntled at these lowborn peasants suddenly having the power to enforce the law. Whilst the City Watch tended mostly to petty crime, freeing the Knights for more high-profile and sensitive cases, it was still a scrap of power long denied to those at the very bottom. Friction was inevitable.

Yet, during the beginning years of their wary and necessary alliance, a strange camaraderie started to form between them. Hilda jokingly said it was because he was now part of the ‘Orphaned Bastards Club’, but Aymeric felt it was more because they both believed the same things… and they really enjoyed thumbing their noses at the stuffier lords sitting pretty in Ishgard’s fledging republic. There were stark differences between them, though. Aymeric’s position was always privileged, member of the Orphaned Bastards Club or not, whilst Hilda scrambled at the bottom of society since birth. Friction there was inevitable too.

But they made it work.

Yes, they were both stubborn and passionate and clashed – often – but Hilda had proven herself to be a valuable ally, instead of the dangerous enemy she could have been. She worked with him to ensure a level balance between the Knights and the City Watch, she was blunt and honest enough not to hold back to correct him on his assumptions on what the lower class needed, and, more importantly, she was loyal to a fault.

He could do without the mock-assassinations whenever he went to and from work though. At this point he had a feeling she was doing it more to mess with him, rather than increasing his chances of surviving another assassination attempt.

“I see Lover boy’s outta town,” Hilda said casually, “What’s he up to this time? Savin’ another damn country?”

“He’s gone fishing with some adventurer friends,” Aymeric said.

The look Hilda gave him was worth the early morning scare, honestly. The disbelief, the slight suspicion that he was pulling her leg, writ across her face was deeply amusing, “Fishin’.”

“Mm, that is what I said,” he said with mock-innocence, “Something the matter?”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to fish,” Hilda said dubiously, “Requires a bit of patience, don’t it?”

“If there’s a promise of food at the end of it, you’ll find him surprisingly patient,” Aymeric said, “Also he fishes with Imperial grenades.”

Hilda let out a sigh that almost eased into a laugh, “’Course he does.”

The rest of the walk to the Congregation was pleasant in Hilda’s company. She told him a little of what the City Watch had been doing, what assistance they could do with, and in turn Aymeric told her about the new bills being proposed regarding a government funding project to properly equip the City Watch. Hilda had taken that last thing with a wry twist to her lips, just as aware as him that that bill would be bounced around in the House of Lords for as long as their constitution allowed.

“Best leave ya here,” Hilda said briskly as they stopped at the Congregation, “When ya see Aza, tell ‘im to swing by the Forgotten Knight sometime. Haven’t had a drink with him in a while.”

“I’ll pass on the message,” Aymeric promised.

Hilda clapped him on the arm, her fingers trailing along his forearm and pressing a crumpled piece of paper – discreetly – into his hand. With a two-fingered salute, the Mongrel prowled off in that confident strut of hers, disappearing into the early morning crowd that had started to stir.

Aymeric closed his fist around the paper slowly and turned away, tucking it casually into his breeches’ pocket. Another perk to his friendship-alliance with the Mongrel was information that would otherwise be denied to a Lord Commander part of the ‘class system’ all the commoners hated. What people wouldn’t admit or say to the knights, they admitted to the City Watch. But, whilst the City Watch’s powers were limited, Aymeric had more clout and influence. It was always a balancing act to work out on what he could action, but it made his life so much easier.

Honestly, it would have been a harder ordeal rooting out corruption, if it weren’t for her.

--

“Sir. Sir.”

“M’awake,” Aymeric mumbled into his desk, not lifting his head even when Lucia sighed somewhere above him.

“Lord Artoirel is here to see you,” she said firmly, “To discuss the Adventurer’s Guild Proposal. Remember?”

Aymeric made a noise better suited to some deep-sea creature being pulled out of a loch somewhere. The fucking Adventurer’s Guild Proposal. The bane of his political existence and the thorn in the House of Lord’s side. The last debate on it had descended into petty stonewalling, where no one had come out smelling pretty.

(Aymeric himself hadn’t come out of that debate well. In a flash of white-hot, temporary madness brought on by sheer frustration at the inefficiency their government was stagnating in, he had ended the ridiculous shouting match by flipping the Speaker’s desk and verbally flaying everyone present. It was the first time he ever heard the House of Lords stunned into terrified silence. It was then that Artoirel had, warily, suggested that perhaps they should all take a break and cool their heads a little while someone replaced the Speaker’s desk.)

“Should I take that as you cancelling the meeting?” Lucia asked him flatly.

“I’ll take it,” Aymeric said wearily, propping himself up and massaging his temples. A low-grade headache was beginning to throb insistently behind his eyes. He was so sick of reading things now. He should have ran away with Aza to throw Imperial grenades into a lake somewhere.

Lucia didn’t move, giving him a long searching look.

“Sir,” she ventured carefully, “When was the last time you took a break?”

Considering Lucia helped to micromanage his stuffed to the gills schedule, she should know exactly when he took a break. Better than he, anyways, where the days just blurred together in some nightmarish ordeal of holding a fledging republic together by his fingertips. Whilst it was more stable than it had been initially, somehow that meant more work bubbling up as people actually became efficient enough to start, well, working. Instead of just focusing on reshuffling their budget and trying to dismantle the Ishgardian war machine, they now had to juggle foreign policy, trade routes, commitments to the Eorzean Alliance, commitments to the Scions, immigration, social reforms, military reforms, economics, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Aymeric just didn’t have enough hands to manage it all.

“You tell me, Lucia,” he said in a rare show of snippiness, “When did I last have a break?”

Lucia straightened up and said, rather coolly, “Three months ago, sir, for half a day.”

Aymeric rubbed at his face and pinched at the bridge of his nose, letting out a very long exhale, “Right.”

“…I think,” Lucia said in a very neutral tone, “That you need a break, sir.”

Aymeric looked at the papers sprawled over his desk for a long moment. What had initially filled him with passionate determination now made him feel an intense dread. He was burnt out, he realised, and stressed to a cracking point, if his embarrassing blow up at the last House of Lords session was anything to go by. “Yes, I think so too.”  

“Conveniently,” Lucia continued, “An invitation from Lord Hien of Doma arrived this morning by Postmoogle. It seems they wish to express their gratitude for the contribution Ishgard made towards their reconstruction efforts. It asks for you explicitly by name.”

It was a testament to how tired Aymeric was that he didn’t immediately make the connection, “This is convenient…?”

“Sir, this is a thinly veiled attempt to curry further favour with Ishgard by inviting you to their city to be spoiled and bribed,” Lucia said bluntly, “While the other City States also made contributions to Doma, the engineers and architects we sent have been integral to rebuilding their city and their destroyed castle. No doubt they will want us to continue loaning such expertise until they no longer need it, and to do that…”

“Ah,” Aymeric said, enlightened, “I see.”

“I already sent an acceptance on your behalf,” Lucia said, proving that she was an angel sent down from Halone Herself. If Aymeric weren’t so exhausted, he probably would have gotten down on his hands and knees and thanked her from the very bottom of his heart, “I’m certain the Warrior of Light will be happy to accompany you.”

That was all well and good, except, “But, who will tend to my duties in the interim?”

“I can handle your Lord Commander duties, sir,” Lucia said, and inclined her head towards the door, “And I am sure Lord Artoirel can handle your Speaker duties, as he is your political second in command. You should start learning to delegate.”

Aymeric processed this for a long moment. Then;

“Lucia,” he said gravely, “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?”

The faintest curl to Lucia’s lips betrayed her smile.

“Yes, sir,” she said warmly, “You tell me every day.”

---

All things considered, Artoirel handled his sudden burden with good grace.

“You need the break,” Artoirel told him firmly, “I was beginning to worry that you would crash and burn before you started delegating.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Aymeric asked, although a sinking feeling in his belly told him that, yes, he had acted a bit like a control freak. He couldn’t help it. He had sweated blood and tears to get Ishgard to this point, and he was terrified that it was going to be cocked up by petty greed and ambitions running counter their fledging republic. There were so many things that could be taken advantage of – were being taken advantage of, where corruption could fester and grow if one took their eyes off it for too long, where their government could collapse in on itself like the unstable house of cards it was and erupt into a destabilising and bloody civil war.

Aymeric wanted this to go well. He needed this to go well. Yet… he was also falling into the trap of thinking it’d only go well if he micromanaged every single possible bit of it, which… which wasn’t all that different to how Father had ruled Ishgard. Just like him, he was all but strangling the government by gripping it so hard. The realisation felt like a knife to the gut.

No, wait. A knife to the gut would have been better, actually.

“You… need to delegate a little, yes,” Artoirel said diplomatically, “But no one can deny you have Ishgard’s best interests at heart.”

Aymeric rubbed his forehead, biting back ‘the Archbishop also had Ishgard’s best interests at heart’, because that was going to go down an emotional rabbit hole of father issues that Artoirel didn’t deserve to sit through.

“Right,” he said instead, bottling up that emotional upheaval for later. He planted his hands on the papers on his desk and pushed them forwards towards his soon-to-be-intensely-suffering-replacement, “In which case, I deeply apologise for the hell I am about to put you through.”

Artoirel looked briefly pained, though the expression quickly cleared into one of grim, determination.

“I’ll endure it,” he said.

Really, Aymeric sincerely hoped Artoirel won the next round of elections for the Speaker position. He was, apparently, a far better politician and man than he’d ever be. That was a bitter pill to swallow, surprisingly, but it was mostly relief Aymeric felt.

Lucia was right.

He was burnt out.

---

Lucia kicked him out of his office before it was mid-afternoon.

“Go home,” she told him, and physically blocked him from getting back in his office. After being soundly out-manoeuvred and cowed by Lucia’s stern glare, Aymeric had no choice but to slink back home feeling oddly out of sorts. He had no looming deadline he had to grind towards, no bills or proposals he had to manage, no patrol reports to review or inspections to prepare for or… anything. He felt almost adrift, and he barely remembered the walk back home.

(Hilda would have been scandalised at his lack of self-awareness. He was probably lucky she didn’t chance upon him. She might have drop-kicked him)

He spent his abrupt dearth of free time not preparing for his journey in less than two days’ time – but by lying on his living room floor. It was, actually, a very comfortable floor, and he now saw why Aza lied down on it so much. It was firm, but not uncomfortably hard, and was doing wonders for his aching back. Maybe he should make this a thing. Just spend an hour lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, slowly dumping all the white noise in his brain so he felt semi-human again.

This was the state Aza found him in a few hours later.

“Aym,” his partner said, standing at his head and smelling faintly of damp and mud, “Are you having a moment?”

“Lucia kicked me out of the office,” he informed him, still disbelieving about that. Grateful, but disbelieving, because the last few hours had been blissful, albeit accompanied by the low-grade anxiety of knowing that he wasn’t doing anything productive, “To take a break.”

Aza laughed at that, crouching down. He was smiling, an adorable grin that flashed his sharp canines and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Aymeric dreamily admired that lovely expression for a long moment.

“I told you that you were working too hard,” Aza chided him gently, “Did you just lie here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Aymeric said shamelessly, “How was fishing?”

“Great. We annoyed a kraken and fought it.”

Aymeric hummed quietly, finding himself smiling a little stupidly at how genuinely pleased Aza looked at that. Only he would find fighting a kraken a good outcome of fishing, “Did you win?”

“Of course!”

Not long after that he had an armful of Aza, stripped naked with his brine-smelling clothes in a pile next to the sofa. The smell of damp and mud still lingered, but Aymeric still inhaled it and found that tight knot squeezing his belly slacken and relax. No matter how stressed he became, he could always count on Aza just… making it right again. True, he brought his own challenges from time to time, but, Gods, they were worth it.

“You have a dopey look on your face,” Aza commented, the pair of them nose to nose, “I bet you’re thinking of something very schmoopy.”

“Mmm…” Aymeric smiled lazily, “I’m thinking about how much I love you.”

“Sap,” Aza muttered, but his cheeks were a little pink and he was smiling, “You always think about that.”

“Not always,” Aymeric said, “Sometimes I think about how beautiful you look. Or how amazing you are. Or how many Chocobos you’re going to adopt when we retire-”

“Fifty,” Aza said instantly.

“More like one hundred,” Aymeric said wryly, “Like you’d stop at fifty.”

“Point.”

“In short,” Aymeric concluded, “I think about plenty of things… but it is mostly about how much I love you.”

“I can see that,” Aza said, giving him an odd smile. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to say something, but then just sighed and closed his eyes, “I love you too, Aym. Even if you are a sappy dork.”

A companionable silence fell on them then. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Aymeric just basked in the warmth of his partner’s body curled against his own, the press of his forehead against his own, the tickle of Aza’s hair against his nose and bottom lip, just… listening to him breathe, feeling him in his arms, here, existing, slowly, Aymeric could feel the lingering tension in his body just…ease away.

Yes, he definitely needed that break. He hadn’t realised how bone-weary and burnt out he was until now. A few weeks longer and he might’ve self-destructed entirely, jeopardising everything he worked for and causing the problems he feared would happen, just from stubbornly micromanaging everything.

Doma would still be work, but it’d be relaxed work. He would have to schmooze and make friends, but he wouldn’t have to also juggle a thousand other things simultaneously. It’d be good for him to just decompress and figure his own life out, before wading back into the thorny battlefield that was Ishgardian politics.

“What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” Aza asked him sleepily.

“… work,” Aymeric murmured, kissing the tip of his nose, “You’ll find out later.”

“Hrm,” Aza was content with that, and he watched as his partner slipped off into a dozing slumber. He looked adorable. It was amazing how loving someone so much made even the simple act of sleeping seem like the most sublime thing on the planet. Aza was right, he was such a sappy dork.

For the first time in a while, his worries about Ishgard were… the furthest thing from his mind.  

#ffxiv #fanfic #aymeric de borel #warrior of light #lucia goe junius #hilda ware #artoirel fortemps #dumb fic stuff

[tidsoptlmist]

Walmart - G.D.

Authors note: this probably sucks ass but im gonna post it anyway so enjoyyyyy

Summary: Based on the writing prompt: “I’m on the verge of tears because of a rude customer and you step in and stand up for me”

▸ MASTERLIST 

In contrast to what felt like everyone else in the world, you never liked Fridays. For you, Fridays consist of two lectures of 4 hours each by Professor Thompson (a 100-something year old with a monotone voice). And after those dreadful lectures you still had to work from 7pm till midnight at the 24-hour Walmart down the street.

This Friday had been an exceptionally bad Friday. You woke up with a sore throat, spilled your coffee all over your new sweater - which almost  made you late for class since you had to change shirts and when you finally got into the right lecture hall, you found out you forgot all your writing utensils at home.

So, it didn’t come as a surprise to that you were in a awful mood by the time you were making your diner (macaroni and cheese). After a quick meal, where - of fucking course - you burned your lip, you changed into your work clothes, grabbed your keys and phone and left your room.

The only good thing about this Friday was that it wasn’t raining during your walk from the campus to the Walmart. But considering that you studied in Los Angeles, that wasn’t as much as a win as it could have been.

You walked into the store and checked in, dropped your keys and phone into your locker and walked to the schedule to see which cash register you had today.

‘Number 4 it is,’ you mumble to yourself as you walk to the right register. You type in your code on the computer and wait for your first customer. The first one of this Frightful Friday was a big lady with a happy face and blonde hair. She greeted you and placed her grocery’s on the register. You scanned all the things and asked if she’d like a bag. She didn’t need a bag; she brought her own. Her total amount was $43,55.

Time went by slowly. It’s not that busy, and, after what felt like years, you’re finally on your first break at 9pm. The only good thing about working Fridays is that there aren’t many staff members. So no meaningless awkward small talk!

After your break, time seemed to even go slower. There were about three consumers in the whole store and of course the all go to self checkout. You start to zone out. It’s close to 11pm now, which means just one hour left until you can leave. You start scraping the nail-polish of your thumb. Suddenly you’re loudly awoken from your daydream by a harsh voice.

‘Excuse me?! Are you deaf?!’ You look up into an aggressive face. It’s the face of a big man: he’s over 6ft and his arms are tatted and muscular.

‘I’m so sorry, how can I help you?’ you ask him nicely, trying not to sound as scared as you actually are.

‘I asked you where I could find the engine oil but I think firstly you need to get those ears checked out!’ He screams at your face. You look at him with big eyes.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t really know where to find that, maybe you could asks one of our stock clerks? I could summon one for you,’ you tell the man as calmly as you can.

‘You work here don’t you? Then why don’t you know where the fucking engine oil is?!’ Splatters of spit land on the register and tears are beginning to from behind your eyes. Fuck, you think, I can’t cry now!

‘I work as a cashier, I don’t know the store layout by heart. Asking a stock clerk would help you way faster. Like I said, I could call one for you right away!’ Your hand hovers to the phone on your right and you notice your hand is shaking.

‘Do you think I’m stupid or what? Don’t you think I already asked a stock clerk?!’ He growls at you.

Suddenly a new voice can be heard from behind the big men. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a little rude towards her? She said she doesn’t know and instead of walking aimlessly through the store with you, she offered you to call a clerk: whose job it is to know.’

A young man, around your age, emerges from behind the men.

‘Who the fuck asked you for your opinion, pretty boy?’ The men turns around to face the boy. And oh Lord, he was a pretty boy! He was around 6 feet, maybe a little taller. He had short dark hair, which looked messy - as if he had run his hand through it a bunch of times. He has broad shoulders and muscular arms. A dangly earring hung in his left ear and his hazel eyes looked angry at the men in front of your desk.

He is wearing a grey sweater with ‘DUKE UNIVERSITY’ written on it, along with two crossed lacrosse sticks. The sweater hugged his arms nicely and underneath his nike shorts came muscular thighs. In his hands he held a pack of a 100 colorful balloons, two packages of ramen noodles and a box with a dozen eggs.

‘No one asked you to be rude to her either!’ The boy looks a the man angry and clenches his jaw.

‘You know what?!’ The man turns to you angrily, ‘keep your fucking engine oil!’ He dumps the rest of his groceries and storms towards the exit.

The sound of breaking glass makes you tear your eyes of the man and look up. Only now you realize that the man was carrying a 12 pack of beer bottles. Only 3 of them survived the drop and beer is dripping from the register onto the ground. You quickly get up and grab the roll of paper towels from underneath the cashier. You walk around the register and kneel down to dry the beer off the ground. But firstly you try to pick up as many of the big glass as you can. A shadow falls over you and you look up. It’s pretty boy. He kneels down with you and starts helping to collect the glass.

‘You really don’t need to do that..’ You say and look up. Pretty boy smiles but keeps picking up broken glass. ‘I know, but I want to! You’ve had enough shit for today after having to deal with that asshole!’ You can feel your cheeks heating up and you quickly look down and grab some more glass.

‘Ouch!’ You cry out when you feel a sharp pain in your right pointer finger. A small cut becomes visible and you bit down your lip. Tears are beginning to from in your eyes.

‘Of-fucking-course!’ you mutter, ‘as if today couldn't get any worse!’ You grab some of the paper towels to wrap around your finger to stop the bleeding. A tear rolls down your cheek and you can feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment. Here you are, sitting in spilled beer which you could have sold, with your finger cut open, crying in front of one of the hottest boys you’ll probably ever talk to.

‘Hey, don’t worry! Everything will be okay!’ You feel a strong hand on your shoulder. Pretty boy squeezes your shoulder in reassurance.

‘I’m so sorry!’ you say, wiping away the tear. ‘This is so embarrassing! It’s just.. I’ve had the worst day ever!’ You confess to him. You’re kinda surprised you’re telling this stranger about your day. This isn’t something you’d normally do. But today you have to.

‘It’s okay! Don’t worry! When does your shift end?’ Pretty boy asks you and you glance at the clock above the exit.

‘In two minutes,’ you tell him softly. Pretty boy smiles and you can see his perfectly white teeth - of course he has good teeth as well! Some people just have everything, don’t they?!

‘Great! Let’s clean this up and I’ll pay for my stuff and we’ll get some coffee at the McDonald’s across the street! I’m Grayson by the way,’ he puts out his hand for you to shake it.

‘I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Grayson.’ You smile at him while you shake his hand.

Grayson helps you clean the beer and glass, pays for his balloons, noodles and eggs and waits for you when you get your phone and keys from your locker. He also helps you put the plaster over the cut in your finger.

Together you walk to the McDonalds across the street. You both decide to get a McFlurry and eat it outside. The weather is nice, it’s been a hot day and it just started to cool down a little bit. You sit next to Grayson on the curb in silence, both eating your ice-cream, when you can’t stand the silence anymore.

‘So what brings you to the Walmart at 11 at night, buying balloons, ramen noodles and eggs?’ You ask Grayson. He laughs and takes one more bit from his ice-cream before he answers.

‘Me and my twin brother have a YouTube channel. We agreed I would get the props for the video we’ll be filming tomorrow but I forgot. So I waited for him to fall asleep, so I could go to the store real quick and now he’ll never know I forgot to buy the things!’

You can't help but laugh, ‘Wait! There’s another boy who looks exactly like you?!’ You exclaim with a smile. Damn!

Grayson laughs and ruffles his hand through his hair, ‘Yea! His name is Ethan. He’s older but less funny so...’

You laugh out loud. ‘Wow he must be a funny as a funeral if he’s not as funny as you!’ Grayson puts his free hand over his heart as if he’s very offended.

You ask Grayson about his channel. He tells you about how Ethan and him got a warehouse where they film their videos and how he had been editing all day today.

‘I mean I really like editing videos, but it tires you out! I feel like I look like a zombie right now,’ he sighs and takes another bite of his McFlurry.

‘I think you look good! I mean if you look like this tired I don't even dare to imagine what you look like normally! Not that you don’t look hot right now! You’re very hot! I mean-’ you ramble. You can feel your cheeks and neck heating up in embarrassment. Dear mother Earth, please, swallow me whole now!

Grayson just chuckles at your discomfort. ‘You’re cute,’ he says softly. You almost choke in your ice-cream. And Grayson rubs your back, trying to help you catch your breath. It doesn’t help though, the places where his hand touched your back burn and tingle worse than your throat.

‘Do you want to come to the warehouse tomorrow? I can show you around and you can meet Ethan! I think you and him will like each other!’ Grayson asks you. ‘I can pick you put or I can give you the address?’ He says softly.

‘I’d love to visit!’ You smile. Grayson smiles back you. ‘Okay, can I get your number? I’ll text you the address!’ He says, still smiling.

‘Smooth boy!’ You grin at him as your type your number into his iPhone X.

‘Fancy phone Mr-I-Do-YouTube-With-My-Twin-Brother!’ you nod at the phone as you give it back to him.

‘Might be one of the worst things I bought to be honest!’ Grayson chuckles, ‘I can’t even use the facial recognition; Ethan can get into my phone because of that! Apple hates twins!’

You laugh at that, ‘I guess so!’.

Once you finished your ice-creams and loads of stories, it’s almost 1:30am.

‘Do you want me to walk you back to campus?’ Grayson asks you. You act like you’re thinking about it, although you already know the answer. You don’t want the conversation with Grayson to end.

‘That’d be nice! Thank you,’ You smile at him and you lead the way back to the UCLA campus. The conversation between the two of your turns deeper and soon you’re deep into the midnight conversations topics about love, what the point of living is and death.

‘This is me...’ You say with pain in your stomach as you approach your room. ‘I wish we could talk longer...’ You confess.

‘Same!’ Grayson says, ‘but we’ll hang out tomorrow!’ He smiles, which makes you smile too.

‘That’s right.’

‘Good night Y/N! It was lovely meeting you.’ Grayson says, and you wish him good night.

Suddenly, he hugs you tightly. ‘I already can’t wait to see you again Y/N’ he whispers into your ear. Your heart skips a beat.

You wait in the doorway of your room until you can’t see him anymore. Then you lock your door and fall onto your bed. A buzz sound  makes you look up.

Unknown number: Hi Y/N! This is Grayson! Although it’s not the same midnight-talking, maybe we can midnight-text? X

sooooo yeahhh ..... i hope you liked it! leave a comment if you feel like it! 

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan imagines #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan one shot #grayson bailey dolan #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan imagines #ethan grant dolan #ethan and grayson #ethan and grayson dolan #dolan twins #the dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins imagines

[kpurereactions]

Big bang Reaction to you wanting to cuddle but they are mad at you

*A/N: for these more couply reactions i just can’t get myself to write them for Yougnbae anymore… I m a very superstitious person and pretending like Hyorin and he didnt just tie the knot for our own imagination makes me feel like I’m personally going to jinx them and i just can’t have that bad juju in my life. Plus I absolutely lover her and feel like if I’m ever supposed to be her bff i just can’t do her like that… for the more platonic ones ill include him, but i hope you guys understand where I’m coming from. Whether Admin Nari does this is completely up to here, its just how i feel:)

Jiyong:

You knew by how tired his smile was when you got home that it was not a very good day for him, but neither was it for you. Your meeting lasted two hours over, your deadlines were changed so you were now rushing and the bitch that sits two desks over was just dry humping your nerves. Guying watched you with tired eyes as you took your shoes off and dropped your bag to the floor. ‘I thought you were going to make dinner tonight.’ He said harshly as you walked over and sat down next to him. ‘Oh I’m sorry I didnt know I was now your personal chef.’ You said sarcastically. Usually he would laugh off your comment, your bite was one of his favorite things about you. But not today.You opened your eyes confused as you watched his back make its way into your room, your head saying and eyes rolling as he slammed the door shut behind him. You knew pretty well at this point what battles you should pick with him, and in this case you did tell him you’d cook and never told him you’d be late. As hard as it was to admit you hoped you’d make up for it with your food. After going overboard with the dishes that now sat empty in the sink you thougt you had made up for it as he sat a few inches from you on the couch and propped his feet up. He even chuckled a few times at the show you were watching. Your first yawn brought you to a slouch on the couch and your second brought your head to rest on his shoulder. Even though he was giving you all the signs of being back to normal, you reaching for his hand seemed to be the straw that broke the camels back. In one swift motion he sighed hard, yanked his hand from yours and stood up, walking into the bedroom without any explinaition. He expected you to fallow, and when you did he would be ready to round on you, sending biting words your way as he let out all his pent up frustration on you. The longer he yelled the worse he felt for it though. He’d stop mid sentence and sigh, looking at you with sorry eyes, which would instantly soften your glare. He’d walk into your chest head first and only sigh again when you wrapped your arms around his back.‘Sorry I’m a dick.’ 

Seunghyun:

You were late. You weren’t answering and he was extremely worried. He didnt care that you were out with your girlfriends for a night of fun, what he cared about is the fact that it was nearing 1 in the morning and you still weren’t stumbling through the door for him to clean up, which he’d promise he’d do. He was worried that something bad happened to you, that you were now in the back of someones trunk and he’d have no idea. At this point in the night even if he wanted to go to bed he couldn’t. Still he tried, serves you right for scaring him like this.You walked in only 30 minutes after he tried to lay down, completely sober and your shoes actually still on your feet for once. This made him angry, why were you so late and why were you sober and why were you unable to send him a text back. These were all points he made when he walked ut of the bedroom to meet you with a scowl on his face. To him it didnt matter if the girls just decided to have a little house party. It didnt matter to him that you must have left your phone in the kitchen where it was hooked up to charge- you scared him. He pouted to himself as you cleaned yourself up and got ready for bed. Usually seeing you makeup fresh off with your once neatly done hair thrown up to the top of your head was his favorite thing to see, but he was mad so he laid there on his back staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The feeling of the bed dipping down next to him made him want to look, but he was mad, and the fact that you still hadn’t seem to fully notice was making him even more mad. He huffed as you scooted into the bed closer to him, but didnt actually shut you out until you tried to wiggle your way onto his chest so he could hold you tightly like he normally did. He could practically hear your eyes rolling as you sat up to face him. He actually had to force himself not to smile when you smacked his shoulder in attempt to get his attention.‘Go to bed, Y/n.’He’d know you would argue and he’d let you pout and get upset with him for being mean, but when he laid on you just how scared that something bad had happened to you he was and you shut up by just how much he was right his mood would drop. ‘You just scared me. Now can you please go to bed?’ He’d roll back onto his side away from you, but when your body hooked tightly around his he’d smile softly before rolling over to hold you. 

Daesung:

He had been gone for close to two weeks now doing promoting for his new album, which meant he was exhausted, and that the last thing he wanted to see when he got home early one morning was you sleeping on the couch with cans upon cans surrounding you. You obviously had a party the night before and even though he truly did love your friends he knew how they could get. He woke you up by kicking empty cans to the side. You didnt know whether to be excited or embarrassed that he got back to your apartment and it looked like this. ‘I thought you were coming in tomorrow?’ You said with a half hopeful tone, thinking he’d just push this aside for another time. ‘I thought I was coming home to my girlfriends place, not a pigs stye…’ he said kicking another can before going into your bedroom. You sighed and let him have his moment, following him into your room to see him already laying on the bed with his arm covering his face. ‘Im going to shower, ill be right back.’ You said heading straight for the bathroom. When you were finally out you snuck back into the room quietly to see him laying like a starfish, slightly snoring on his back. You smiled and watched him softly as you dressed in clean clothes. You were torn. Do you lay down with him right now and let him hold you like you dream about every night or go back into the living room to clean up the mess you had made and risk waking him up. Laying with him just seemed like a better deal, you’d nap with him and when the two of you woke up you’d send him to shower while you quickly cleaned your mess and started dinner. But the moment that back of your head hit his  shoulder instead of hugging you closer he slipped out from under you.‘Why are you laying down, you need to clean up.’ He spat, crossing his arms without even opening his eyes. You spat back, telling him you’d like to lay with your boyfriend who didnt tell her he was coming, and then again to tell him that he was the one living in her appartment when he wasn’t off gallivanting around the world. He’d get angrier at you for your words, but he knew you were right and would eventually try to pull you back into his chest so he could nap with you, knowing perfectly well that you were now too mad to lay with him. At first he’d ignore you, but seeing how desperately you were trying not to scream at him as you stomped away he’d let his head fall into his hands before he got up to they and help you. He expected you to lash out and after trying to get you to let him help a few times he’d just go take his shower in hope that he hadn’t completely ruined the day. You wouldn’t forgive him until you were stood over the stove trying not to cry into the meat you were stir frying when he wrapped his strong arms around your torso and mumbled an ‘Im sorry.’ into your hair. 

Seungri

You could help the fact that your ex showed up to one of Seungri’s openings. You couldn’t help that you were stuck talking to him and you couldn’t help the people who noticed it to be a problem. Not even Seungri noticed until the next morning when the two of you were laying in bed with a slight hangover. His heavy, angry breath would be what caused your cheek to rise off of his bare chest. All he did was show you the zoomed in picture of you with your back to the wall and your ex leaning in a little too close for comfort. ‘He was being so annoying I couldn’t get away from him.’ You said in an annoyed way. Seungri sat up quickly causing you to awkwardly roll over so he could look at you with now angry eyes. ‘He was being annoying? That was my event! your ex comes near you, you tell them to leave, not make it look like there something for others and maybe myself to be questioning!’ He said loudly. You looked at him dumbstruck, he could not have been serious. ‘You were too busy taking shots with your friends to notice me trying to get your attention, and its not like I didnt try to walk away. He followed me all over the restaurant because he probably thought I was still single since my boyfriend was running off every which way the entire night.’ You tried to say as calmly as possible. You rolled your eyes under your lids when he scoffed at you, and instead of arguing you laid back and put your hands over your face.‘I got rid of him eventually, I just didnt want to be rude to a guest. Please lay back down.’ You said wrapping your hand gently around his wrist. Instead of dropping it he pulled his hand harshly away from yours and continued to scroll through the pictures he took to see if he could find more. Instead of sitting there and waiting for him to find more to yell at you about you took a blanket and your pillow into the living room. He’d huff and puff, happy that he won the bed but still mad that you would do something like this. The more he looked through the pictures you were actually in he started to feel guilty as he was usually smiling and you were int he background looking very uncomfortable, and always looking right at him. He’d get up, wanting to somehow coax you back in bed with him, but after seeing you already passed out of ht couch he’d just curl up tightly behind you, whispering he was sorry as your eyes fluttered open. 

Kitty

#bigbang #bigbang reactions #jiyong #jiyong reaction #seunghyun #seunghyun reactions #daesung #daesung reaction #seungri #seungri reaction

[yourjughead]

Legacy 2.0

From Sweet Pea x Reader perspective.

You must read the OG Legacy parts linked in the fic for the story to flesh out correctly, part 6 and 7 do not take place in this version for obvious reasons . This is so long i dont actually expect anyone to read it through but it took a lot of work and if you do read all of it that would make me really happy.

==================================

Part 1 “Who the fuck does he think he is?!” “Calm down Pea its not that big of a deal” “It is to me” you just rolled your eyes at your Second and then returned to watching him pace your back office of the Warehouse while you sat up on your desk. “He crossed a line and then kept crossing it, he was trying to wind me up” “He’s new give him time” “He's a Legacy, he should know all of this stuff already, we shouldn't have to teach him” Sweet Pea stopped pacing in front of you, he put his hands on your thighs to prop himself up. “You know he’s into you yeah?” “Really? Do you think so?” you put on this fake excited voice and widened your eyes, he just rolled his eyes at your sarcasm and pushed back off your legs. “Hey Pea” you pulled his attention back to you effortlessly “What?” “Your jealousy is showing” “It's not jealousy, it's concern” he whined and caught you by the shoulders and shook you playfully till you slid off the desk and were chest to chest with him. “Peaaaa stop making something out of nothing, you might end up liking him, you could be friends” you gave him little jabs into the chest and then he threw his heavy arms around your shoulders and hugged you entirely, he then threw all his weight against you and you whined laughing under the force. “Stoooooop” you tried pushing him back as he continued to exert more force, you both laughing. “You're.crushing.me” “Good” you then moved quickly to the side and we went hands to the desk. “You're the worst Second” he put his hand to his heart feigning hurt. “I'm the best Second, one day you'll be mine” “Dream on little boy, not unless i get shot and die” “I can't wait for the day” of course this was all witty banter between partners in crime, confidants, best friends. “Shut up, you couldn't handle my job” “What you mean never turning up to school and having everyone bow down at your feet” you chuckled lightly and returned to sit at your desk. Of course he knew there was more to it than that but you didn't like talking about it as much. “And don't you forget it, I'm the Don” “Your dad is the Don” “I'm the Don adjacent” “Well will the Don adjacent be gracing us with her presence at school this week?” “Ughhhhh i went today didn't I?” he just threw you look and you once again rolled your eyes. You didn't like school, never have, wasn't for you and that suited everyone except for Sweet Pea but only because it meant less time with you and more time for him wrangling the jrs in school, that was his job after all. Babysitting. You got to spend less time focusing on school and more time on the gang while he got to babysit, it was leverage you loved to use. “I won't be in for at least two weeks, I’ll leave the babies to you” “Oh course you will, life of a working mom, maybe I should get a second” “You're my second you don't get a second” “They could be your third” “Or I could just make you work three times as hard” “You could-” he slid onto the desk and you stared up at him from the chair “-but then there would be no time for fun” he gestured over his shoulder to the sound of jrs flooding the Warehouse ready to relax after school. You rolled your eyes and signalled for him to leave and have fun before pulling your chair back into your desk. “No no you too” “Pea” “Yn” “Pea” “Ynnnnnn” “Dont” “Don't what” he jumped off the desk and half circled your chair. “Don't do THIS!” you half shrieked when lifted you from your chair and threw you over his shoulder laughing while you shrieked bloody murder and attempted to catch your breath though tears of laughter. “Am I interrupting something?” the both of your heads shot to the door and Sweet Pea dropped you to his side and the two of you were like like two kids caught with your hands in the cookies jar. “No sir” “No dad” you both answered in unison. “Hmph, yn, meet me upstairs we have work” he deadpanned and then left the room, you and Sweet Pea immediately releasing a sigh of relief. You loved your Dad, you did but it would take Sweet Pea taking a bullet for you or something for him to approve of you two together. He didn't believe in a leader falling for their second which was fair enough but not to you two. It was the elephant in the room and that's how it would stay. “I better…” “Yeah” ~ Part 2 ~ “What.just.happened” “We were ambushed” “Wow really Fangs I would have never guessed, get out” “Yn” “Get out!” you threw yourself down in your office chair and put a hand to your head. Fangs looked at Toni and Sweet Pea panickedly. You looked out from behind your fingers and that got him to scatter. “Toni go help Fangs with diagnostics, yn and i will be with you in a second” she nodded slowly, leaving. Sweet Pea rested against your desk and watched you stress out. “Yn...yn were you and Jughead…” your hands dropped to your legs and you gave him as completely over it look. “Really? Really Pea” “Sorry, I just...did you two…” “REALLY SWEET PEA?! RIGHT NOW! WE JUST GOT AMBUSHED AND YOU'RE ASKING ME ABOUT JUGHEAD?!” “I FUCKING KNEW IT! YOU LIKE HIM” “WELL I CANT FUCKING HAVE YOU CAN I!” and there it was, you clasped your hands over your mouth and tears started to form. “Ynn i got here as soon as i cou- what's going on? Why is it every fucking time I come into this damn office I feel like I’m interrupting something between you two that shouldn't even be fucking happening! Sweet Pea you are on full security with Fangs and-” “I dont need a baby sitter dad-” “I’m not talking to you right now YN. We’ll discuss this further later Sweet Pea, get Fangs and ill meet you in 20” Sweet Pea nodded and looked at you like his heart was breaking and it was, he knew exactly what your dad was going to say to you when he closed that door but he had to anyway. “Yn you know my opinion on you and Sweet Pea” “Yes dad, I’m thinking of getting it tattooed on my arm” “Don't be smart with me. Where were you tonight, i heard from some others you were nowhere to be seen before the attack” “I was with FPs son, we were just talking, it was his first gathering and he was feeling overwhelmed and-” you were trying to keep your voice as level as possible as your dad stared at you with his piercing eyes. “Now there’s a good match, Legacy blood sticking together” “Dad, we have more important things to do then talk about my love life” “Hmm, I’m putting you on look out where you'll be safe” you released audible annoyance and he waved it off before leaving. ~ Pt.3 ~ The hospital emergency doors were flung open viciously as Serpents ascended on the ER like seagulls flocking a single piece of bread. They all went in their own directions to where they knew where their closest were being treated after another ambush. Sweet Pea stomped the wards, ran the wards looking for you, not even sure what really happened. “Oh my god yn!” you leapt off the seat outside of Jugheads room and into his arms. You were completely clung to him and he had actually lifted you from the floor, you were sobbing into his chest while he had buried his head in the crook of your neck. “They-they wont l-et me go i-n and see h-im right now th-ey’re just cle-aning him up after sur-gery” he let your feet touch the ground again but didn't let you go as your voice shook. “Yn it's going to be okay darling, he’ll be okay, I’m so glad you're okay, i was so worried” “I could have been shot, i could have died” “Shhh” he stroked your hair gently wishing you to stop crying, it hurt him in every cell of his body. You both stood like this for over an hour until finally you and Sweet Pea were allowed inside with Toni following soon after. ~ Part 4 ~ That was it for you, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. You completely pulled back from life involving him, including interaction with any of the Jrs. You became more involved with Senior work which made your dad entirely happy and Sweet Pea worried. ~ Part 5 ~ “IM GOING TO KILL HIM YN” “Morning Sweet Pea oh please come into my office without knocking, How are you? I’m good, your party was fun last night, yeah it was a mess” you cocked an  eyebrow at him over the desk after finishing your sarcastic conversation. “Yn, i don’t care if he took a bullet for you-” “-Your sense of care for me is overwhelming” you stood from your desk to lean against it. “You know i care about you, I’m not in the mood for our usual banter yn” “Calm down Pea, the vein is going to pop out of your head, what’s wrong?” you stepped closer to him, catching him by the forearms and rubbing them gently. “I know what Jughead did” you took a step back but not releasing his arms. “It’s water under the-” “It hurt you, he hurt you. I'm going to bury him under the warehouse” he broke from you and began angrily pacing the room. “I don’t even care about the fact your dad is singing his praises, he hu-” “Ding ding ding, we have the root of the problem” “It’s not the root of the problem” “Sweet pea-” “Why aren't I good enough for you?! I work hard, i pull my weight, I’m always there for you, we have a laugh together and yet- that’s not enough” Sweet Pea tried his hardest to stop his voice from shaking but to no avail, he was coming undone at the seams. “Pea” “No, no just forget it, i understand the rules i just don’t like them, forget I said anything” he went to leave but you caught kind of rushly and dragged him back to meet you. This was not the first time you two had kissed but it was the first time you did it sober and it was so much better, especially since you’d actually remember this one. It went from sweet to hungry, almost violently hungry. “Pea-Pea lock the door” you pressed him backwards breathlessly, still kissing when you blindly locked the door behind his back. His mouth connected with your neck and he pushed your head back for more access and you went willingly. It was his turn to push you back until the backs of your legs hit the desk. He tucked his arms under you to lift you, you gasped and knotted your hands in his hair, he dropped you down on the desk and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him in deeper. You tugged his jacket off and it didn't even touch the ground before you were pulling off his shirt. You ran your hands up his toned abs and across his pecs and back to his shoulders while Sweet Peas hands ran up and down your thighs. “Maybe we shouldn't do this in your office” “Yeah you're right” they were just words, he still pulled your shirt over your head before you reconnected to his neck, making sure to pay special attention to his tattoo. He pressed your back against the desk and lifted you slightly for you to shift out of your pants, him doing the same. “Umm Do you have a-” “Yeah two seconds” “Isn't that very presumptuous of you, do you have a lot of office sex” he laughed as you reached for your desk drawer and tossing him the condom upon retrieval. “Wouldn't you like to know” you winked as Sweet Pea  pushed you back to the desk, kissing down your chest and stomach while you hummed. His mouth returned to your neck and you could feel his growing member near your heat, you helped to guide him and then you both gasped with the sudden overwhelming pleasure of being this close. Sweet Pea pulled you by the hips further down the desk before he began moving properly. You dug your nails into his back while your own arched. He groaned loudly and you put a finger to his lip shushing him to be quiet, remembering there are probably people buzzing around the door. “I don't want to be quiet, i want everyone to know you're mine” you rolled your eyes before beckoning him to continue moving as your band tightened. It was building pressure begging to be released and when it was you clung to his chest and tried to muffle your moans in his shoulder, he doing the same to you briefly after. You two laid out on the large mahogany desk for a bit before getting dressed again. “I, i can't believe that just happened” “It was only a matter of time Pea” you shoved him as you slotted on your serpent jacket. “You know Pea, Jughead is going to do itiation” “Good for him” “Which means the gauntlet and you have to promise me you wont completely mangle him okay?” “I make no such promise” “As your girlfr- or emm” “As my girlfriend what? If anything that gives me more of reason to nearly kill him” you rolled your eyes heading for door but not before interlocking hands with Sweet Pea. “Wait your dad might be out there” “I dont care Pea, i can handle him, i want to be with you...aww look you're blushing” “I am not, you are!” he totally was and you found it utterly adorable.

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Props to you if you read the whole thing honestly.

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[lxveille]

as in ‘crush’

joshua x reader

word count: ~ 5900 a/n: american university!AU; ambiguously non-american/non-native english speaker!reader; probably too much actual talk about IPA; the tiniest dash of  nsfw at the end

If only the course listing had warned you that concentrating in your English phonetics course would be made ten times harder by developing a truly GPA-threatening crush on one Joshua Hong.

“To facilitate pronunciation, the nasal consonant changes its place of articulation to match that of the consonant directly following…”

You are really trying to follow along with your professor’s eloquent example of an assimilation rule in the phonetics of standard English. Thus far all you have written down in your notebook, however, is just “ASSIMILATION RULES”, underlined twice with ‘homorganic nasal rule’ jotted underneath it. Since then, all you’d managed to do was rewrite over the word homorganic several times over. A part of you was trying to remember whether the professor had pronounced homorganic with five syllables or four. So at least you were still a little bit studious.

Most of you, however, is having to focus way too much on not letting your gaze flicker over to your left to where you know Joshua is sitting. He’s probably having no trouble at all following the lecture. His calm yet intensely focused gaze had been one of the first things that you’d been taken by. Other than just his overall appearance, which has been a distraction since day one of class.

“I think I’ve been mispronouncing im-polite  for years,” Seungkwan whispers to you from the desk next to you, emphasizing the nasal enough for you to clue in that he must be referencing the phenomenon your professor is going on about.

Most of those in Phonetics of the English Language are international students. Without anyone suggesting it be done, you tend to arrange yourselves in the classroom so that you’re arranged by homeland, or at least by mother tongue. You happened to be one of two in this class from your country; the other girl always sits on your right.

As it happens, the small group of students from South Korea sit to your left. Seungkwan was the one who sat on the rightmost end of that group, and so it was purely by this coincidence of this self-selected, entirely unofficial seating chart that the two of you struck up a friendship which seemed to exist exclusively within this one classroom.

You’re doing your best not to make your horrible infatuation with his friend too obvious.

“What does homo-organic mean?” you half-mouth at him, gesturing with your pen to your sorry looking notes. Seungkwan holds back a snort of laughter and shrugs at you. You give him a panicked look and then turn to your right, whispering desperately in your first language.

When you glance back over to Seungkwan, he raises his eyebrows to wordlessly ask if you got an answer.

“Can we compare notes after class?” you ask quietly. While you're posing the question, you gaze flickers beyond him and two more desks down to where Joshua is still. He has one elbow propped up on the fold-down desktop, chin resting in his palm and fingers curled in towards his lips.

“If you take notes!” he nearly threatens to go above the volume any student would dare use during side conversation.

“Shht, okay, okay,” you wave your hand at him to urge him not to risk making any kind of scene and turn your attention towards the front of the room.

Fifty-three minutes later, when the professor has struck her signature end-of-class pose of shutting her folder of notes and settling both hands on the table in the front of the room, the room erupts into a symphony of languages. Yours included, as you bid your compatriot goodbye. You about close up your notebook when Seungkwan pauses his conversation to remind you that you’d asked to revise together.

“I’ll meet you at the chairs in the hall?” The word lounge occurs to you to use, but you aren’t certain if it counts if the comfy furniture and low-set tables aren’t technically in a separate room of themselves. He nods and then slips back into Korean with his friends. You take it as your cue to finish gathering your things.

It’s cooler in the hallway. You’ll never understand why the university seems to think the classrooms can only either be uncomfortably warm or overly air-conditioned. You arrange yourself with your notebook and the course’s main textbook, already searching for extra answers in the chapter you’d only half-read the night before.

You hear Seungkwan and his friends leaving the classroom before you look up to see them. They’re laughing and (you assume) saying their goodbyes as he breaks off from the group to join you.

The two of you spend about twenty minutes going over notes and textbook chapters and doing google searches in your respective languages just to double check. At the tail end of this, Seungkwan is making notes in Hangul in the margins of his notebook while you’re busy flipping through the syllabus.

“Oh, I’m so glad the homework is just some IPA transcription,” you think out loud.

“Ah -- is it really?” Seungkwan doesn’t sound as relieved as you as he glances over at the paper in your lap. “I hate those assignments.”

“Why? It’s much easier than having to read all that theory and research.” Sure, the international phonetic alphabet had taken some getting used to, and one of the front pages of your notebook was covered in your handwritten practicing at writing the symbols out along with your notes on model words you were confident of in English for each consonant and vowel.

“I worry I don’t know how to say things correctly. Then get it wrong because of that.” He frowns only for a moment before his phone buzzes and distracts him from the conversation at hand.

“I’m happy to help if you ever want to check transcriptions together.” You doubt he’ll ever take you up on the offer. That’s been your experience with most other classroom friendships since you started school here. Friendships had mostly been found in your dorm’s common room and in extracurriculars.

“Thank you,” Seungkwan gives the standard response to such an idea, looking up from his phone with a sincere smile.

When you arrive to the next class session approximately ten minutes early, Seungkwan comes in shortly after and promptly starts asking to compare your homework. You blink with surprise for a moment before you click into action, pulling out your notebook and flipping the page where you’d completed the required transcriptions. In his evident rush to verify his work, you decide it’ll be easiest just to hand over your notes. With other students streaming you, you watch as Seungkwan glances back and forth between your work and his own.

“Ah, wait, why did you write this one with epsilon, but not schwa?” he asks, nearly slamming your notebook back onto your desk and pointing at the neatly-numbered seventh one down on your paper.

“Well… it’d be, like… wunt if you wrote it with a schwa. And it’s went,” you explain simply.

He glances over his shoulder, checking which of his friends have already arrived. “Thanks,” he says, and then he rounds on Joshua, nearly yelling something emphatically to him in Korean that has you feeling guilty even if you can’t understand a single word. An apologetic smile twitches at your lips when Joshua glances in your direction while Seungkwan is pointing at the transcriptions on his paper dramatically. As far as your aware, this is the first time Joshua has ever looked at you intentionally; the first time he’s looked at you for longer than a millisecond and it’s absolutely overwhelming to think that it’s happening because of homework corrections of all things. You divert your gaze before you get the chance to see the smile Joshua sends your way even as he’s being reprimanded.

Two weeks later, midterms are officially right around the corner. You have a study session scheduled in the library exactly fifteen minutes after your phonetics class finishes with a group of students in your semantics course. You spend probably a good part of the second-half of the lecture worrying about whether or not your classmates will able to help you with the questions you still have on the midterm material.

The moment your phonetics professor finishes going over the format of the midterm exam and announces she’s done for the day, you’re hurriedly putting your belongs back in your bag. The moment you’re about to stand up, however, a figure suddenly appears in the space you were about to step into, bocking your quick departure. You look up and find yourself at a total loss for words when Joshua is smiling down at you.

The hand holding the strap of your backpack lowers meekly as you give him a curious look. You close your mouth as soon as you realize you’re practically gaping at him.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

You nod, feeling as though the gesture must look dumb.

“Seungkwan says you’re really good at IPA and I think I’ll legitimately fail if I just using a schwa every time I can’t figure out a vowel. So, do you think you could help me study up on that?”

This is a joke. You think as much because the universe would never be so kind as to dump a beautiful boy in need right at your feet with a smile as sweet as Joshua’s. “Okay,” you answer despite the paranoid voice chiming in at the back of your mind trying to convince you that this will be a horrible mistake.

“Cool. Would the student lounge on this floor work?”

“I have to go to the library,” you snap back to your reality. “Um, now,” you add as you take a glance at your phone’s screen. Another international student has frantically texted you that he’s gotten to the library early and is already freaking out at the prospect of sustaining small talk with the quick-talking native speakers in your study group.

“Oh,” he sounds disappointed and your wistful heart is devastated at the notion. “Do you have enough time to take my number? We can text to figure out what’ll work.”

You’re in a daze through the whole exchange. Mostly because Joshua’s fingers brushed against your own as took your phone to type in his contact information. It wasn’t what you’d call sparks. More of a numbing sort of static that washed over you in a wave that left your fingers itching to be wound up with his.

“If you don’t text him I will grab your phone and message him on your behalf asking when he’s next available to spend a couple hours making out,” your closest friend scolds you in your shared mother tongue in the dining hall during lunch the next day.

You blush, and find yourself grateful - and not for the first time - that there’s no guarantee those around you can understand what you’re saying.

“I don’t think I can be alone with him. I’ll go out of my mind. My soul will escape out my stupid, open-hanging mouth and he won’t even get the help he wants.”

“There’s no way this guy is that attractive. You need some perspective, I swear.” She stabs a fork into one of the fries on her plate and then points it in your direction as another idea occurs to her. “Getting the chance to help him might help you realize he’s not some flawless being dropped down from the heavens. Nothing messes up my infatuations like hearing a guy say something  completely wrong on a basic facts level.”

“IPA is hard,” you defend, saying only the acronym alone in English.

“And you are really smart for mastering it. Be confident!” she urges. “We’ve also yet to consider that he might be asking for help from you not just for the sake of passing your phonetics midterm.”

Before you can reply you hear your name from over your shoulder. When you turn to look, you nearly drop your fork when you’re greeted with the sight of Joshua.

“Hi,” you switch into English and worry instantly that you might have food in your teeth or unflattering crumbs fallen in your lap.

“Everything go alright with your library thing?”  

“Is that him?” your friend asks, utterly shameless with the confidence that he wouldn’t be able to understand.

“It was alright,” you answer Joshua without acknowledging her.

“Oh, good.” He smiles and you’re certain your mirrored expression will give away the answer to your friend’s ignored question. “Any time to help a guy out with phonetics today?”

“Sure.” The word slips out before you think it through.

“Awesome.” His smile only flourishes. “I’m just grabbing lunch now but I’ll text you when I’m done?”

“Okay. That sounds good.” Truly, you’re astonished that you don’t stammer over your agreement.

Does my dorm work?

It had taken you a good fifteen minutes to answer that text after it first arrived from Joshua. You’d been managing a cohesive, casual conversation about when and where would work best to study up until that.  Once you’d brought yourself back to rational thought, you’d message back that it would be fine.

Which is how you’ve ended up standing outside a dormitory other than your own with a bag full of your phonetics materials and your phone in one hand as you wait nervously for Joshua to come let you into the building. He appears with a bright, appreciative smile and holds the door open for you as you come inside.

“Sorry if my room’s kinda a mess. My roommate and I keep putting off our big clean-it-all day,” he apologizes in advance as he leads you up the stairs to his floor.

His room doesn’t look that bad at all, save a few stray wrappers from snacks and bit of strewn laundry on the side of the room you quickly discover is not Joshua’s. When it’s decided that the most convenient place for you both to sit and work through the phonetic alphabet together is side-by-side on his bed, you’re grateful that the only thing that crosses your mind is how soft his duvet is.

“So… the IPA vowels?” you recall him mentioning being his point of weakness. He chuckles, and you spot a slightly embarrassed tinge to his smile. “Do you want to show me your transcriptions from class?”

Joshua hops up from the bed and brings back his notepad from class. “You’re playing teacher here, so no laughing,” he requests as he hands it over, opened up to a page full of messy IPA with corrections written in anywhere he could find space.

“You’re… obsessed with the schwa,” you conclude after about forty-five seconds of scanning the page.

“Hey! Obsessed is the wrong word,” he suggests, propping one socked foot up on the bed as he leans back on his hands, “I just default to it.”

“It’s usually not a stressed vowel,” you begin with, as you lean down to grab a pen out of your bag. With one hand holding his notebook, you resort to uncapping your pen with your teeth, holding the cap between your lips as you twirl the Bic around in your fingers to slip it onto the backend. Your preoccupation with the task means you miss the way Joshua’s gaze zeros in on your lips at the action; his own press into a thin line as he reminds himself you’re just doing something practical.

“This is an IPA chart for vowels, okay?” you speak idly as you start drawing out the arrangement of front-central-back and closed to open sounds. “And your favorite is right in the middle, mid-central. It seems like you mostly confuse it with other mid-placed vowels. But… um, both front and back placed ones.”

“You’re losing me already,” Joshua confesses with another short laugh at his own expense.

You hum lightly, drawing over a few of the phonetic symbols a second time as you try to think of how to explain it. “I usually think of an example word. One syllable. That way I know what sound for sure goes with each vowel.”

“Like, epsilon is more front than schwa,” you tap lightly at where the symbol is positioned on the chart you’d written out in his notebook. “And it sounds like in ‘bet’.” Joshua’s spine straightens up some as you beginning this explanation. You jot down your example underneath the symbol and underline the e in bet. “Then, more closed and more front is the /e/, which makes the, um… ‘ay’ sound, you know, like…”

“Bait?” he suggests. You nod, smiling encouragingly as you copy the word down, once more underlining the vowel. “Your handwriting’s nice,” he compliments as he leans in slightly to get a better look at everything you’re putting down.

“Nearby,” you carry own without expressing any kind of gratitude. His closer positioning has you feeling a bit more self-conscious. “Is the small capital i. It’s easy, like what’s in the word ‘it’, or ‘miss’, or... ‘kiss’.” He hums in understanding beside you.

“The back ones you mix up with schwa are maybe a little harder.” You tap the back of the pen against the paper; you hope Joshua won’t know it’s a sign of your nerves at his proximity. You’ve been smitten enough so far with just the look of him. You hadn’t anticipated that the smell of him would endear you all the more to him. A stay glance over towards his dresser doesn’t tell you what cologne he wears, but you’re certain he must be wearing something. No one smells this nice all on their own.

“Open-o isn’t too bad. Just, if anything makes the sound like in ‘thought’, it’s this one.” You circle the vowels in the word lightly, the ink barely leaving a mark on the page. “And then there’s the caret, which is sort of… right in the middle of schwa and open-o?” You trace the flipped v shape of the symbol. “It’s the ‘uh’ sound, as in ‘crush’.”

“I think I say it was a schwa,” he muses, watching as you write the word out.

“Crush?” you repeat, finally lifting your head to look at him.

“Crush,” he echoes more firmly. You have to admit his vowel is a bit more relaxed than when you pronounce it, making it sound closer to the schwa sound.

“I don’t know,” you surrender, fearing yourself unable to sustain eye contact without starting to blush. “You’re probably right.” You can practically hear the scolding your friend will give you for not sticking with confidence already. “You’re probably the best at English of the international kids in our class, I mean,” you reason.

“I’m from California,” he corrects you after a beat of awkward silence. You look up at him for a moment just to confirm his sincerity and proceed to shut your eyes with a grimace of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize because it feels like the only thing you can do. “I assumed because…”

“It’s okay,” Joshua cuts in gently, like he wishes this whole thing had not come up in the first place. Another aspect of the situation for you to feel guilty for. “It happens.” You are filled with dread. Just because he’s dealt with this sort of mix up before doesn’t make you feel any better for having added another tally to the instances of it.

Your mind is searching for some kind of segue into leaving, or any kind of excuse to get out of the room.

“They’re pretty close in pronunciation,” Joshua points out instead, pointing to the caret and the schwa on your vowel chart. Guilt still leaves you wordless, so you nod in agreement. “Maybe I should try a couple transcriptions with the tips you’ve given so far?” he changes the subject officially. It’s obvious he wants to move along. At this point abiding that desire seems like the only polite thing to do.

You only spend fifteen minutes more in his room, helping him through a few transcriptions with the vowels he struggles over the most. When you gather your things to leave, he offers to walk you back down to the front door of the building. You accept only because insisting he does otherwise seems like it will make things more awkward.

When your phonetics class rolls around again, you stop in your tracks at the doorway when you see the Seungkwan and Joshua have traded spots. Trying not to make your missed beat too obvious, you push yourself back into motion and slip into your usual seat.

“Hey, how’re you?” asks Joshua, eyes following you as you settle in.

“I’m okay,” you answer as you flip through to a clean page of your notepad. “Tired,” you add for a touch more honesty as you turn your head to look at him. “How are you?”

“Same, pretty much.” He shrugs. “I think I did alright on the transcriptions for today. Thanks again for helping me out with that.” You feel forgiven, or even as though he was never mad.

Throughout the entire lecture, your gaze plays a furtive version of tag with Joshua’s. Every so often you’d let your glances meet for more than a second. And these instances are accompanied with an upwards tick in Joshua’s lips every time, however fleeting the expression was before one of you would redirect your sight to the front of the room or to your notes. It feels as though each flickering glimpse at one another is tugging away at whatever chance at subtlety you ever had.

Next class, when it’s time to take the midterm exam, you sit one sit further over than usual. Putting space between you and Joshua is the only chance you’ll have at passing.

Come Thursday, when all your midterms have been completed, it’s easy to convince you to attend some party being thrown by some friend-of-a-friend in one of the suites in the more modern dormitory. You and your friends made the trek across campus with plastic water bottles filled with cheap whiskey and lemonade.

It isn’t difficult getting into the building. It takes a few moments of pounding on the front door before one of the residents passes by and is kind enough to open it for you. From there, finding the suite hosting the party is as easy as following the sound of heavy bass and loud chatter.

The suites may be bigger than a standard room, but it’s absolutely packed with students eager to let out pent-up stress from midterms. You take a large gulp from your bottle as your friends make their way further into the festivities.

Loud music keeps you from hearing Seungkwan calling your name the first time. He’s impossible to miss once he taps you on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen you out before!” he exclaims the obvious.

“Me neither.” You have to shout from the volume around. “How did your exams go?”

“Ahh,” he throws his head back dramatically before putting it in clear terms, “I’m so glad they are over!” You nod an eager seconding of the sentiment. Unsure what else you can say to him, you take another drink from your bottle instead. “That doesn’t look like water,” Seungkwan comments with a grin.

“Do you want some?” you offer, “It’s lemonade and, ah… Jack Daniel’s?” You only half remember the brand name of the bottle your friend had passed you.

“Sure,” he accepts quickly; it’s likely the answer he would have given regardless of what you told him was inside the clear plastic. You hand it over and watch him grimace as he swallows a sip. “That’s strong,” he tells you as he passes it back.

“Sorry,” you laugh as you bring it back up to your own lips. “Sidenote -- is English easier to speak drunk?”

“Yes!” Seungkwan concurs, smiling so brightly that you can’t help grinning back at him. “Should we be drinking before class?” he asks facetiously.

“Probably not,” you advise through giggles you might not have had if it weren’t for the buzz of alcohol in your system.

You watch with widened eyes as another boy comes all but crashing into Seungkwan, arm looping around his shoulder and saying something energetically in Korean. You’re about to turn to go find your friends again when Seungkwan calls out for you to wait. He says something more to the newcomer which you can’t understand, though you swear you hear the name ‘Joshua’ somewhere in the middle of it. The stranger’s lips quirk into a smirk as he glances over to you.

“My name’s Jeonghan,” he introduces himself at Seungkwan’s behest. You give him your own and find that the handshake the two of you exchange feels oddly formal in this setting. “Let’s go find Shua!” he proposes immediately after, handshake turning into him leading you through the crowd unexpectedly. Seungkwan yells something at him in his first language as he tails after the two of you.

Joshua, as it turns out, is sitting playing some card game you don’t recognize in one of the bedrooms with a handful of others. He looks up from his hand with evident surprise as you three of you burst in. You find yourself caught in the middle of a conversation you have no chance to following as the three boys carry on in Korean. Jeonghan releases your hand around the same time that Seungkwan leans into your shoulder in a gesture that seems like it’s solely so he can keep his tipsy self upright.

“Sorry,” Joshua tells you just as you’re beginning to feel truly lost and a little bit paranoid about what they’re discussing. He stands up from the game in order to speak to you directly. “Jeonghan is ---”

“I’m what?” Jeonghan doesn’t let him finish, slinging an arm around Joshua much as he’d done to Seungkwan not long ago.

“It’s okay,” you intervene, utterly uncertain what’s going on but hoping nevertheless that you can take this chance to switch the conversation into English. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.” Joshua smiles softly, and the expression shifts as soon as he glances to Seungkwan. It makes you feel like that fleeting look had been exclusively for you; that is was something quiet and meant to be kept between the two of you.

“How do you think the phonetics midterm went?” you ask, twisting the cap of your bottle back and forth idly.

“I have no idea! But could you believe one of the transcription exercises on it actually had the word ‘crush’ in it? I nearly gave up then and there,” he remarks. Up until that moment, you had forgotten about that particular part of the test. Though you had shared a similar feeling in the moment.

“How did you end up transcribing it?”

“With a caret, like you said.”

You burst with laughter and cover your eyes for a moment your free hand. “I used a schwa because of you!” you admit, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I guess we’ll find out which one’s right in the next week or so,” he laughs along with you.

You turn when you hear your name being called and send a quick wave in the boys’ direction before heading back out into the suite’s common room, where two of your friends are waiting with curious looks on their faces.

You don’t see Joshua for the rest of the night. Or rather, you don’t see Joshua again until hours later, when the bottle has long been emptied and you’ve started sobering up. You’ve switched your heels for the cloth flats you’d smartly thrown into your purse before leaving for the night and failed in convincing your friends who haven’t already left with somebody that it’s time to go.

You send a brief text that you’re leaving to the group chat to prevent any confusion before you begin your way down the staircase. It’s in the landing between floors three and four that you see Joshua again. He’s chatting with other students you don’t know, and you plan on slipping by without saying anything to him. In part because you know your hair and makeup must both be mussed up from the dancing you’d spent most the party doing.

You’re two steps down the next set of steps after passing by the group when his voice calls your name and draws you to a halt. With one hand holding the straps of your heels and the other one the handrail, you turn to face him. “Are you heading home alone?” he asks; there’s a different kind of concern in his tone than the one you’d heard from your friends.

“Yeah, it’s… less fun in there without being drunk.” The thought sounds worse out loud than it did in your head. But it makes Joshua laugh and sends you another one of those small smiles that you’ve officially decided are not good for your health with the way they make your heart flutter.

“Do you want someone to walk you?”

You don’t feel compelled to have someone go with you. You feel confident enough in the way home and lack fear in crossing campus alone at this hour from the number of times you’ve done it before. So, do you want someone to walk you? No. But do you want Joshua to go with you?

“That would be nice,” you say, smile growing in spite of yourself.

“Give me one minute to grab my stuff?” he requests. You nod. The moment he disappears, you lean back against the wall of the stairs as it dawns on you that you’ll be spending a good ten-minute walk alone with Joshua. The two of you hadn’t spent time alone since the study-session-turned-disaster.

True to his word, Joshua is coming back down the stairs before too much time passes. If he’d taken any longer, you think to yourself, you might have fled.

The awkwardness you fear will come never does. He asks you about where you’re from, about what made you want to study in the States. He’s patient when you struggle to find the exact words or syntax that you want. So much so that you’d say it doesn’t even require any patience on his part to sustain a conversation with you. You rally questions back at him and hang off every syllable of his answers.

It’s good that you both know the campus well enough that you can get away with spending most of the walk looking at one another rather than where you’re going.

He doesn’t work up the nerve to take your hand until the two of you are already at your building’s front door. The gesture keeps you from reaching into your purse for your keys. His hand sways back and forth with yours as you turn to face him with directly. “I’m sorry again, about Seungkwan and Jeonghan. They should know how frustrating it is to have people saying things you can’t understand right in front of you.”

“I’m not worried,” you try to prompt a smile back onto his features. “It would be self-centered to assume they were talking about me. I just… happened to be there.”

His head falls forward for a moment, blocking you from seeing most of the repentant look that crosses his face as he thinks of how wrong you are there. But he can’t bring himself to tell you that they were speaking almost exclusively about you.

“It’s a bit rude either way,” he tells you in place of any admissions.

You shrug and fail to find any words as Joshua lifts his eyes yours once again. There’s a shift in the atmosphere. A thin wire has been drawn between the two of you and is waiting simply for the right tug that will make the whole thing snap. You move a centimeter closer, testing just what will break the tension. The fingers laced with yours press a fraction firmer into your skin.

And then the moment is shattered by the door of your dorm digging into your back as it’s opened from the other side.  You’re jostled forward, nearly into Joshua’s chest before you catch your balance. He releases your hand in the same instant.

“Sorry,” the girl leaving the building says casually as she passes the two of you by.

Deciding it’s a sign, you take hold of the door before it can close all the way. When you turn to bid him goodnight, you find he’s taken a step closer to come inside as well. You tell yourself he’s just taking the way home all the way to your own door. It would parallel the way he’d insisted upon walking you to the front door of his dorm before.

You pull your keys out of your purse while the two of you are still going up the stairs to your floor. When you reach your door, Joshua catches you off guard as he brushes a hand against one of the cut-outs of motivational words you and your roommate had put up in honor of midterm season. “This is cute,” he remarks, scanning over the rest of the decorations on your door. You fiddle with the key in your hand and tell him it was your roommate’s idea.

“Is she in?” he asks, turning at the shoulder to face you while his hand still rests against the glossy wood of your door.

“I don’t know,” is the only honest answer you can give. “I know she went out tonight but I’m not sure where.”

“Can I come in if she’s not?” is his next question, and this one you have no idea how to decipher. So you answer nonverbally, with the ambiguous combination of a shrug and a nod at the same time.

At least, you have no clue until Joshua provides a touch of clarification in the form of a soft kiss. Your heels and keys all clatter against the hallway floor as the affection makes you drop everything. He pulls away from you with a chuckle that’s warm against your still-parted lips.

He crouches down and picks the shoes and keys up for you. “Only if it’s okay with you,” he reassures as he hands your keys back out to you.

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, and avert your gaze to unlock your door.

When you flick on the lights, you’re embarrassed by how relieved you are that your roommate isn’t yet home. You give him an okay sign with your fingers and wave him inside.

Joshua closes the door behind him and sets the heels he’d picked up for you down beside the door, careful that they remain upright even once he’s released his hold. You toe off your flats and set your keys down on your desk.

He catches your stare while he’s shrugging off his jacket and sends you a new smile. It isn’t soft and secret like the ones you’d been melting over before. But it sends a spark down your spine all the same. As he comes close, you find yourself immersed once more in the that unnamed, pleasant cologne of his.  

“Still okay?” he checks as his hands find their way to your hips.

“Definitely,” you respond, though your racing heart protests that it might not be okay if you end up bursting from the strange fortune midterm week has brought you this semester.

You only get a momentary glance at the smile your consent brings to his face before his kisses have you closing your eyes and surrendering to feeling.

But the chances for soaking in Joshua’s different smiles are far from over.

For instance, in about twenty minutes he’ll be smirking up at you from between your thighs and asking which IPA symbols you’d use to transcribe the first of moans he draws from your well-kissed lips.

#seventeen scenarios #joshua scenarios #seventeen imagines #hong jisoo scenarios

[workingforthewidow]

I only date Italians (Tony DiNozzo X Reader)

Criminal Minds/NCIS

Warnings: Um, I don’t think theres any major ones... I mean its a CM/NCIS story so mentions of death like once but nothing happens to main characters.

This isn’t my best work but you know sometimes things don't go as planned. I like this story so that’s all that matters right?

      “She has an amazing ass. Like when she does squats damn.” Tony said smirking to himself thinking about the girl he had been eyeing at the gym for over a month. He figured out her schedule and happened to walk into the gym about 10 minutes after her almost everyday.

      “If you have been watching her for a month why haven’t you talked to her?” MeGee asked. Normally Tony would flirt with a girl 2 seconds after meeting. 

     “I’ve tried. She’s always on her phone and as soon as she is finished she leaves.” Tony sighed and propped his feet up on his desk. Not even a minute later he feels a slap to the back of his head and turns to see Gibbs. “Hey Boss.”

    Gibbs doesn't say anything and continues walking to the directors office. 

    “What’s his problem today?” Tony asked. 

    “We have to work with the FBI.” Abby popped up seemingly out of nowhere. “My bestie (Y/N) told me. She works with the BAU they think there’s a serial killer running around killing officers. Time for a team up!” 

    “Don’t sound so cheerful Abby. Back to the lab evidence is being brought in.” Gibbs yelled as he walked down the stairs after a very heated talk with the director. 

-Meanwhile with the BAU-

     “Dad it’s not like we have to work with them all the time. Just play nice and after this case is over you get your week off.” You tried to calm your dad David Rossi who was not very happy about working with the NCIS team.

    “She’s right Rossi. And the faster we get to their HQ the faster we work the case, the faster your vacation starts.” JJ said walking up to you but she trips over a dropped pencil and spills her coffee on you. “(Y/N) Im so sorry.”

     “Its okay JJ. Lucky for me today is gym day. Ill just wear my work out shirt today I guess.” You shrug, you weren't going to the crime scene today just meeting the NCIS team so you could easily button up your jacket to cover the workout tank top. You give your dad one final look before heading to your desk to get your gym bag and change shirts. 

   Once you were changed the team left and headed off to NCIS HQ to meet with Gibbs and his team to discuss the new case. 

-Back to NCIS HQ- 

   “So Tony tell me more about this girl.” MeGee says sitting down in the conference room waiting for the BAU team. Gibbs was grumpily sitting in the corner arms crossed and Ziva was cleaning her knives.

   “Okay so besides the amazing ass, her legs are amazing, and she has a nice rack up top if you know what I mean. And the best part is I know for a fact that I’m her type. Italian.” 

    “And how do you know her type is Italian, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked annoyed.

     Before Tony could reply the door opened and the BAU team walked in. Everyone files into the room, Emily, your dad, JJ, Spencer, Luke, and finally you.  You end up sitting next to Tony and he smirks at you. You just smile back while thinking that you had seen this guy before but couldn't place where. Once introductions are done you still can't place the man sitting next to you who was named Anthony DiNozzo. 

      Later that night you and Rossi were back at home going over the case while making dinner. 

     “And you're sure we’ve never worked with him before? I swear I've seen that guy before Dad.”

     “I don’t know what to tell you Cucciola. Maybe you shop at the same grocery store.” 

      “Maybe. This is going to bother me until I figure it out though. I hate not knowing things that I know for a fact that I know.” 

      “Just like your old man. Eat up we have a busy day tomorrow.”

     The next day everyone was teamed up in pairs and Tony quickly volunteered to be your partner and you agreed. You wanted to ask him if you had met before. After a few hours going through the crime scene you decide to break for lunch. Tony stayed to take more pictures so you got some to-go food and brought it back. Right as you walked up the stairs you spilled one of the drinks down your shirt. 

     “Seriously two days in a row?” You question aloud but mostly to yourself. 

     “You can have my hoodie. Its in the car.” Tony says barely looking up from his food. 

     “No its fine. I have my workout clothes in my bag. I’ll just wear my workout top.” You walked out to the car and quickly changed into your workout shirt. It was then that you realized where you knew Tony from. 

   “You’re the guy who stares at my ass while I work out. Thats where I know you from. All night I couldn't figure out where I knew you from but now I do.” You mentally kick yourself for not realizing it. For the last month whenever you worked out at the gym you would notice a guy staring at you from behind. You had only caught glances of him but it was defiantly Tony know that you thought about it. 

      “You have a nice ass. And I like the shirt. You know DiNozzo is an Italian name.” 

    You had own the shirt for so long you completely forgot what the shirt even said. You glanced down then remembered. It had been a joke gift from your dad that you ended up loving because you thought it was funny. The front of the shirt said “They say girls marry guys that are like their dads...” and the back said “So I only date Italians.”

       “Let’s get back to work and once this case is over you can ask me out. I have a rule that I don’t date guys I’m working with.” Your straightforwardness shocked Tony and you would have sworn he worked faster. 

     In the end it took a week to solve the case and put the murderer behind bars. You and Tony were the only two left in the building after everyone went out for a celebratory lunch.  

     “So you, me, dinner at 8. I know this really great place.” Tony said finally asking you out.

      “I’ll agree if the really great place you know is my place because Dad has to approve of you. He's only seen you working he needs to see you somewhat relaxed. Don’t worry I’ll take his gun away. I’ll text you my address.” You smile and leave Tony looking shocked. 

     “Damn that’s a great ass.” He said once he found his words and you were standing by the elevator.

     “I heard that!” you yell and step onto the elevator with a smile.

#tony dinozzo #Tony dinozzo imagine #tony dinozzo x reader #tony dinozzo one shot #ncis imagine #ncis one shot #ncis x reader #criminal minds #ncis #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot

[sleeplesssecrets]

time goes slower for me when im sad i guess. if im in a good mood and rushing through having a good time, talking and laughing, i dont even think about the time. if i sit still for too long i become so aware of the time i begin to wonder how anyone could ever want to sit for more than a few minutes even to reflect. but if im just a little lost in my head, i can lay down in bed and stare at literally nothing and think about everything and feel several things at once and only a few minutes will go by. i wonder how long i could realistically sit there for. a lot of people say time goes faster as you get older but also say time flies when youre having fun. this is another reason i hate cliches. no one knows what the fuck they’re talking about. im a lil burnt out on some stuff atm. i hate that i hate having a routine. because its not the routine that i hate, its the stuff i fall into in my routine i hate. i wake up late and eat junk food and sit at my desk for hours and dont even make art. all the stuff i do with brynn doesnt count. shes amazing and creative and over flowing with beautiful little human things i enjoy sharing with her. anyways, then tanner comes home and we eat dinner and i feel guilt from eating then i lay in bed thinking about everything, hating my body, craving attention and wanting to make things i dont have the motivation to make. i daydream hard when i dont want to think about things and ive been thinking about girls a lot. i hopelessly look at girls on instagram that i used to hate in middle school, imagining how i would fit against her if i ever had the chance. i had a dream (a dream not a day dream lol) that a pretty but boyish girl swept me off my feet and moved me into her apartment. i didnt have a fiance or child in this dream which felt weird when i woke up and thought about it. ive been constructing a girl in my head that i would like to meet one day, her name is princess winsome and she has a bright smile and takes care of me. she asks me if im ok and tells me exactly how things are. idk if ive said this before but some months are girl months and other months are guy months for me. im having a girl month, where i just want to appreciate and be around the joy of women. and guy months are a different emotion where i just want to share myself with the comfort of guys. not in sexual ways, girl months or guy months, just in a fulfilling sense. ive been dying to do photos, boudoir in nature, for my friend cos i miss just being next to her. hanging out with her in any manner is eventually tiring but i have a different type of patience when im taking photos. i imagine she’ll kind of stumble around posing and understanding lighting while i take pictures, and ill have to guide her and comfort her. ok im fucking losing it. i need to do her photos. its been so long since ive picked up my camera with a sense of purpose. its been too long since ive thought about lights and props and body parts and shapes and lines and colors. i also want to do my sister in laws photos. also boudoir in nature haha. its my favorite kind of shoot these days and it all started when a friend from high school had me do her photos once. i had so much fun having that privilege and her trust. that first shoot taught me so much. and not just technical stuff. i have an intimate set of knowledge about someone that is sexy in nature but friendly in practice. its such a unique little bond i have with her that ill take with me for the rest of my life. i sincerely hope that anyone who has nudes of them taken by other people share that with their photographers or person who took their photos. i hope people dont get into boudoir just for the nudity. it’s so much more. its about pose and posture and innocence and lack there of and the kind of things you think that statue the thinker is thinking about. it’s about desire and pleasure and warmth and trust. its not a show or a script or defined by the viewer. it’s a tale whispered by the subject, and im lucky enough to be within hearing range. when i get really sad, i want to take photos. i think about the kinds of photos i want or the people i want to shoot and i get sadder that im not motivated enough to do it. blah blah blah i feel like talking about something else. i mentioned my sister in law earlier and i want to talk about her lol. last year on this very blog i complained about her most terrible boyfriend at the time. and this year she has a new boyfriend that shes been dating for a few months and now they live together and its all super cute and happy. but i still am just a little skeptical and i hate being skeptical but i am about this. idk if ive said this here but ill say it again just in case, it would take a very special person to be a good enough person for skyler. she personally gets under my skin and i couldnt ever picture a perfect person for her. i dont feel like that person exists. so my complaint isnt necessarily the dude, its the fact i dont know if theres anyone out there that would actually be good for her. anyways, the guy is super nice and above average good looking. hes big and hes funny. he gets along with everyone and meets people where they’re at and doesn’t argue about dumb shit and sits quietly minding his business most of the time. i think the only thing i dont like about his personality is that when hes talking, he fills the room with his voice and has everyones attention and his presence just penetrates any personal moment you might be having otherwise. but im just so lost as to why he likes skyler. she is so impressed by him and loves the things he does and the way he is and whatever other gooey shit. but idk what hes getting in return. im just... putting their relationship on a different set of expectations and patiently waiting for the day they dont work out. everyone will be so confused and wonder what it was but ill know that it wasnt gonna happen. idk why tho. when i feel like i have a feeling about something i usually dont talk about it becuase i would hate to be wrong, but i needed to say something about that because im excited to be right and would love to have proof that i called it haha. anyways i have to pee and i have so many things i wanna talk about but dont feel like it atm.