#Like the show is great but the message is flatter than paper like there is hardly any reflection which is not right because of how close it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
titaniumrock · 5 months ago
Text
I definitely see this after re-watching and going over the show a lot. The whole concept of the fallout universe is very interesting and is more than it seems in every aspect. But they (the show writers and Bethesda) seem to just be hyper focusing on the "wrong" things in it. (this is very long so i'm putting a cut, please feel free to add your own thoughts!)
First thing that sucks is with America's cannibalism of itself not being shown and hardly even thought of. Our only connection being Coop was not the best choice to even attempt to show this and honestly it is boring for him to be a high class citizen in the first place. He being a rich actor is cool and all but it made pre-war America look too nice, all simply because he is away from the suffering. Like it could have worked very well though; by showing the major differences in class structure. To really show and even exaggerate the greed of the rich, showing how the rich doesn't care for anyone but themselves unless it benefits them. Especially in pre-war America where with the war, propaganda, and human right violations would be at an all time high. Like they could have done that. Make Coop a stuck up asshole, have him look down at the poor. Show us how capitalism is only a rat race that is rigged. Then make it so he changes by stripping him of that power (kind of like how he divorced Barb? and basically got black listed for being a "pinky") to understand how wrong it is and to showcase how people get silenced when speaking out about things in the "Wrong" way.
Hell to better show off America's cannibalism of itself they could have also had another ghoul to contrast Coop by making them one of the poor folk who were witnessing the horror of pre-war America. Someone to connect to many viewers and shed light on the homeless situation that is plaguing the world. Like they had ample opportunities to connect and talk about real world issues! Especially the horror the war was causing to regular Americans and even the segregation and racism those who were the same race of the "enemy" had to face. Like just go look in a history book about the wars and that stuff is right in there. For example Canada literally had camps for the Canadian born Japanese, they stole their houses sold them and shoved the people into camps during WWII using them as free labor and treating them as less than human. I do find it sad and a bit annoying that they mostly honed in on the corporations. Like yes they had a big hand in ruining pre-war America. But they were a much smaller factor! Though if they really wanted to make the message against corporations actually hold weight they could have furthered the blame on them by showing how they used the propaganda, fear, and need for basic items to make life almost impossible. Use a character to show how they have to essentially slave away just to eat barely being paid anything because "Inflation because of the war". Or whatever bullshit corporations use to justify price gouging. Like connect how the corporations here in our universe have the government/s practically in their pockets, show how corporations will make things hella expensive for less! Like if they want to focus on corporations being the big boogie man then use the real world to back it up! Connect them to how America is cannibalizing itself in a way that actually informs people instead of taking the easy way out and saying, "oh uh, yeah big transnational corps bad. Vault tec broke the world for money." Then the NCR here like it was rather stupid that they took the easiest way out again by just blowing them up. Like yeah they were and are doomed to fail. Fallout New Vegas literally shows this with how they are stretched to thin. Even in the older games you can see their flaws because they are mirroring something that has fallen. Just like how Caesar is mimicking Rome without understanding why it fell. Blowing them up was cheap, and this is coming from someone who likes explosions because they look cool.
Overall I do think that most of this is in part with it being a very, very short season. Like what happened to like long seasons??? We don't want only eight episodes in one season!! Take your time, make it long, explore concepts. Take creative liberties! Actually explore your ideas and talk about something. Yeah its probably gonna make some people mad but it is better than half ass-ing things to make everyone happy. And don't get me wrong I love the show, it was fun and I enjoyed it but fuck, you better believe i'll be tearing it apart because it is good but it is shallow. Large like and ocean and as shallow as a puddle. It has a lot of ways to actually talk about things yet it fears backlash like a lot of media. Which is a problem in itself, especially with how short everything is becoming because peopled don't have attention spans anymore. So going forwards I do hope that they actually try to actually use real life evidence to base things off of and actually talk about issues. Show how the fallout universe is scarily like our own, show the dangers of greed, how people change, how the world can change, how not everything is hopeless but it takes cooperation to try and make things better. Like yeah the fallout universe is in ruins but it can be more than just that. Like have fun with it, tell a story that is more than it seems.
alright, here is one of my big specific criticisms for the show: i, in theory, don't mind the ncr being destroyed. we can all agree that it was heading in a bad direction! their attempt at recreating pre-war america was also recreating all of pre-war america's issues. remaking capitalism, bigotry, imperialism, exploitation, environmental destruction, etc etc etc. you can definitely set up a story where these myriad issues lead to the collapse of the ncr. maybe there's a coup, or a revolution, or a war a la the conflict with the legion, or a breakdown in logistics - any of these could lead to the ncr falling.
exactly none of those issues actually destroy the ncr.
instead, we have a random guy nuke the capital of the ncr. this guy has no direct conflict with the ncr; he wasn't really directly hurt by them, he doesn't really idealistically disagree with them. this man is no ulysses. he nukes the ncr to get back at his wife after their divorce, and because of his pre-war entitlement making him think only vault-tek deserves to colonize the surface. the show is not making a coherent critique of the ncr itself. this goes hand in hand with how they barely show the ills of the pre-war world - cooper is our only connection, and he's a rich actor; his viewpoint isn't showing us the food riots or the execution of civilians. his flashbacks are pretty much entirely concerned with the conspiracy of vault-tek which, again, removes america from the equation of its own destruction. america didn't fall because it was eating itself and the rest of the world alive in its drive for constant growth, it fell because...some random secret shadowy group decided blowing up the world was more profitable. that's not even a critique of capitalism, not really.
the ncr didn't fall because of its own issues. it didn't fall in order to make any kind of statement about the nature of imperialism or capitalism - the critique of which is one of fallout's foundational components. as is, the only statements the show seems to be making are: trying to rebuild is hopeless, mankind is cruel and destructive and incapable of change, and neither pre-war america nor the ncr actually did anything to cause their destruction; it was just conspiratorial bad actors who fucked it up for everyone.
and that's just not something i'm interested in.
97 notes · View notes
optimisticstudentangel · 2 years ago
Text
Love letter
No warning. Only fluff
First days in RAD. You've met the prince of the Devildom, and seven lords that helped him. You were anxious for a long period of time, not even being capable to breathe without worry.
Some low-level demons tried to pick several fights with you, but luckily there was always someone to help you.
Demon brothers never let you go alone anywhere, just to be sure for your safety. Even though first weeks their attitude was cold and rude towards you, after time passed you eventually became really close to each other.
Even Lucifer saw you as a family member, which you didn't expect, but that was really flattering to say the least.
When it came to romance though...
There was special someone, you wanted to have connection with.
He is handsome and gentle being, with a pure heart.
You were surrounded with hot and seductive demons, but your eyes were glued only to one person... To one angel.
You remember the hard times, when depressing thoughts haunted you, not giving an opportunity to live calmly.
- I understand you, little lamb. It's not your fault. That does sound pretty bad, to live in hell without your friends and family. If you need help, you can always come to me. It's my duty as an angel to guide and give a hand to a lovely human like you, -he assured that everything is going to be great. And you believed him. How could you not?
And just like that, you developed a friendship, which soon grew into something else.
You two started to see each other more often, to the point that Sunday's were only for the both of you, and no other soul could interrupt your quality time.
Asmo and Solomon made fun of you, for your little crush on the sweet angel. Jokes aside, they tried to give you tips and advice on dating. Which somewhat was kind, and you were grateful for that.
Sometimes Simeon liked to get in that mess too. He would tease you, by pretending your boyfriend. Deep inside you actually wanted it to be true though.
He could have been such a great match for you. Simeon is elegant in every way, he is the most good-natured man you've ever seen in your whole life.
One day you decided that this was enough for you.
It was impossible to just be a close buddy to him, you needed more than that. Your greed for his attention grew every passing day, it prompted you to take a serious action.
You decided that you will confess your feelings to Simeon. But not just by telling him, you wanted to write it on the paper, and give it to his hands.
It was a challenging job, because it felt like no matter what you write, it's not good enough for him. He is an author after all. How will you impress him, when it's his main field.
But you didn't give up, there was no such an option. You tried again and again. Your room was filled with torn scripts, because you couldn't find a satisfaction in your words.
It kept you at night, making you start it from the beginning.
- Maybe I should just keep it simple? Appealing or not, this may be great too. It doesn't matter, I just need to concentrate on my true feelings, and not on beautiful words, - you came to this conclusion. It is better to be heard than to remain silent, simply because you think your confession is not ideal enough.
With new burning passion, words of love naturally came out of you and you scribbled them right away.
After putting your whole heart to this letter, you confidently messaged Simeon to visit you in the house of lamentation.
- Did something urgent happened? I will be there ASAP.
Oh.
It seems like he thinks you're in danger. You decided not to comment on that, because you didn't want to spoil your surprise.
He came quickly panting on your doorway.
- Y/n! Ah, is everything alright? -he looked at you with worried expression.
- Great even! Simeon please come here! - you impatiently took his hand and led him into the room. "There's something I would like to show you. It's really important to me"
- Ok, ok. Little patience, my dear, - he chuckled at your behavior, like a mother to her bouncing child from one place to another. "Whatever it is, I am thrilled just as you are"
- Close your eyes, and open them when I say so! - he did as you told, big smile forming on his lovely face. - Alright! Here it comes, you may open them, - you gifted your love letter, waiting for his reaction.
He blushed and stood there for a minute. "Is this what I think it is? No possible way-"
- Come on, hurry! Read it!
He rushed to open the letter. His eyes darted over the text, and with every second his face became softer and redder. When he finished reading it, he came closer to you, and hugged you tightly.
- I've never read such a beautiful piece! It burned a flame within me. You found the exact words to describe my feelings towards you too. But one thing makes it unfair..... How could you confess your feelings before me? - you laughed awkwardly.
- Then, is it a yes, Simeon?
- Absolutely. I love you so much, only heaven knows it.
He kissed your cheek briefly, and hid the letter in his pocket.
It was not so scary after all.
70 notes · View notes
darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago
Text
Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4
Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe
This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.
Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
Tumblr media
Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 
You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.
You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.
“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.
“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”
“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”
“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.
“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”
“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.
“Today?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.
“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”
“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”
The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.
🎨
It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.
“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”
That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.
“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, ��but I have a weird question for you.”
“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.
“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”
“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”
“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”
“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”
“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.
He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.
🎨
Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.
“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”
“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”
You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.
“Jesus,” you muttered.
“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”
“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.
“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”
As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.
“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”
“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.
He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.
“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”
“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”
“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”
“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”
“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”
“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.
“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”
You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”
🎨
The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.
Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.
You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 
You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.
On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.
Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.
You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.
You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.
“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.
“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”
“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”
“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”
“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”
“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”
“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.
“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”
“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you doing all this?”
There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.
“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”
“Sure, I guess--”
“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”
He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.
🎨
Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.
You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 
You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.
“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”
He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.
“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”
“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”
“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”
“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”
“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”
“Me?” you scoffed.
“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.
“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”
🎨
You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.
You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.
You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.
Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.
You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.
“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.
“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”
“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”
“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”
Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.
“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.
“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”
“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.
“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.
“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”
“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.
“Her,” Clark answered.
“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.
“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”
You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.
“One hundred,” Marcus said.
“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.
“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.
“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”
You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.
You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 
You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.
612 notes · View notes
seijorhi · 4 years ago
Text
No Strings Attached
A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕
Bokuto Koutarou x female reader
TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)
Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy. 
Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-
You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face. 
Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.
You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”
And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.
Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.
So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.
Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.
You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-
If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek. 
If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest. 
But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.
It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach. 
The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.
And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.
“D’ya like it?”
The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone. 
Not that he’s ever that patient. 
“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–
“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?” 
It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in. 
“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down. 
Dinner, and everything else for that matter. 
A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.” 
And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. 
“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.
“He… asked me to meet him.”
Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”
“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.
One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat. 
“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.
A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”
“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”
She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”
“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”
She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.
Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.
Holy crap, you’re beautiful.
Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful. 
It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.
Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.
But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.
Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)
There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.
First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.
You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.
The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-
But that didn’t make him your boyfriend. 
You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt. 
Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes. 
Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week. 
“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”
The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of  guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”
You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.
Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”
You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days. 
“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.
You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”
The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”
This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”
“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”
Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”
“All mine, hm?”
You smile, “All yours, promise.”
He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”
As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later. 
When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.
Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.
“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”
“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.
The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”
An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything. 
“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.  
Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.
Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone. 
He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”
Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.
He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.
Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.
You don’t want them to know.
Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.
But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.
Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”
Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”
Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers. 
For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.
You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.
Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out. 
It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.
He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.
You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely. 
A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.
In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you. 
And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning. 
“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.” 
God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement. 
He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do. 
Not your sugar daddy.
But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”
He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.
Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?” 
And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually. 
Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask. 
Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch… 
… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek. 
Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.
“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”
Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.
The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence. 
“Move in with me.”
You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.
But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.
The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.
He’s joking, right?
“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…” 
He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”
It feels right??
“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”
His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”
“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.” 
Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs. 
“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”
“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”
Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.
Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”
Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-
“I love you.”
39 missed calls. 72 unread messages. 
Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open. 
Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”
But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her. 
“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.
He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.
There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?” 
Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”
You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.
You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.
That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.
Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.
And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely… 
How had you not seen this coming?
“No,” you admit.
The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”
And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true. 
I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore. 
You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.
A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account. 
For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.
It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.
I need to see you. Please.
You transfer the money right back into his account.
Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job. 
Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.
Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff. 
It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.
You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.
On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one. 
You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.
It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave. 
One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile. 
“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”
To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”
Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.
Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-
“Hey, baby.” 
Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto. 
The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 
There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.
Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you. 
“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?” 
He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. 
“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”
He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’. 
But that was then. 
You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.
That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.
The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-
-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake. 
Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.
It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.
Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.
Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper. 
“Bokuto…”
As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.
Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”
2K notes · View notes
pars-ley · 3 years ago
Text
Try again
Tumblr media
Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader
Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.
Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff
Rating: 18+ (NSFW)
Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /
Word Count: 2.3k
Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.
Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.
Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​
The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 
The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.
Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.
It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.
The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 
Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 
The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.
Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."
You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.
As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.
You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.
The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.
As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.
"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.
You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.
You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.
Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.
You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.
"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 
I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."
That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.
But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 
Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.
Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.
He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.
"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.
"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.
He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”
There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 
“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.
He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”
You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”
“Of me?” he asks, shocked.
“Your career.”
“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.
“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.
He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”
You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.
His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."
Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.
He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"
You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"
He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."
You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"
"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.
"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.
He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."
He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 
His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?
"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.
He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.
His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 
As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 
"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.
There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.
Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.
He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."
His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.
Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.
Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.
He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.
He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 
"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."
Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.
"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.
"Let's give it a try." you reply.
He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 
193 notes · View notes
ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Note: this was a commission I got from a supporter on ko-fi. I hope that you’ll read it with the same enjoyment I had while writing it. If you want to commission or support me check the pinned post or the hyperlink, you’ll find all the details there. If you have questions, my DM is open 🤗. Also, your comments are always welcomed.
Promt: Wesker forgets about the reader’s birthday.
Pairing: Wesker x F!Reader
Word count: 2K
Type: fluff.
Tumblr media
Wesker placed the samples with care on the table, starting his day as usual. He’s been spending his last few years, stuck in the lab researching all over again in order to achieve the wanted results. Since Uroborus is a high importance plan, he’s very meticulous about his schedule, respecting every minute precisely. Not a minute early, not a minute late. The only thing that he tries to put outside his schedule is you because he doesn’t like limiting the time he spends with his sweetheart. He cares so much about you that over the years he sees you as his equal, so he plans to inject you with the progenitor virus, a weaker strand because he can’t risk killing you. Because of this, he wants to do it on a special day, but the many opportunities that arrived didn’t fit in his schedule. The greatest gift he ever received was the power he got after breaking the confines of humanity, so he wants you to experience the same joy. Wesker kept thinking about it but he would get distracted by his work, so his present would always be in the planning stage. He doesn’t want to do it suddenly, he wants to introduce the idea slowly to you because he respects your boundaries.
Once you earned his respect, Wesker can be a very carrying partner, human even. He knows every little detail about his sweetheart, from her birthday to what she last ate. It can seem creepy when you put it like this, but this is nothing more than a lover who deeply cares about his partner and seeks to make her happy. Wesker is not the greatest at showing it though because of his work life. He has little to no time to show his affection. He still shows you that he is there for you, but not as much as he wants, making him more frustrated. Sometimes when he comes home from work he is so tired he barely sees you, let alone talk with you. He either collapses on the couch or bed and falls asleep as you talk with him because he is just too exhausted to carry the conversation. This doesn’t sit right with him because he gives all of his attention and energy to his work and doesn’t have any left for the only person that matters to him, making him wonder if it’s all worth it.
The relationship didn’t have a great start, since you expected Albert to be with you at least 8 hours a day but you’re lucky if you catch him once a week. He’s not the type to express himself and constantly expects others to read his mind, so you two would end up fighting. You have mistaken the lack of presence as rudeness and indifference, basing your reasoning on all the rumors you heard until you realized they were all stupid. Wesker proved to be the contrary, talking so nicely to you and not belittling you at all even if you piss him off. The amount of respect this man offered you even from the beginning is astonishing. He was so transparent with you and with all he does and he had so much patience until you understood. He was just a working man with probably burnout syndrome, so you took the responsibility to take care of him.
His phone buzzed since he started his work. Calls, messages, idiots without brains, as he calls them, needed help doing their job. When he had enough he picked up his phone and started to scroll down through notifications. Some of these people make him curse like a sailor, especially the one who texted him the most. As useful as Excella is in helping with his projects, as annoying she can be. Hundreds of messages and calls, some related to work some not. A particular question caught his attention.
“Do you think y/n would like this?” A picture of a purse was attached. Excella can’t stand you for obvious reasons, but out of respect for Albert, she tries to be friends with you. Still, why would Excella buy something for you out of the blue?
“Is something special today?” He thought.
The horrifying grimace when the realization hit cannot be described. Today is indeed a special day, your birthday. To be honest, he doesn’t care about birthdays. He despises them because they are a reminder of our mortality, but he knows how much you care about such occasions. Every year you got him something even if he insisted not to buy anything for him. Seeing you care and how much you enjoy receiving gifts he changed his mindset. Usually, he would give you something common, just as others would, but then he began to put more effort until there wasn’t anything material in this world to give. That’s how the progenitor virus gift arises in his head. However, he’s been so caught up with his research on Uroborus that he completely forgot to make the preparations. You don’t feel the days pass when you’re stuck in a lab all the time. He puts the phone aside, grabs his coat, and rushes out of the building ignoring the people that are trying to talk with him. If not the virus, he will have to find something common.
He’s not a fan of last minutes gifts but he has no choice. The guilt crushed him further as he remember he hasn’t talked with you all day. The ride to the jewels store felt like ages, even if it was relatively close. Luck was on his side since he found the store open.
None of the jewelry in front of him caught his attention because it wasn’t something he hopes of giving you. He already buried you in gold. You have the finest, unique, and expensive jewels in the world. He wouldn’t have been injected you in a lab of course. He wanted a special place for your rebirth. All of his ideas were put on paper, but probably got lost in the pile of reports. All he wanted was to see you smile on the most important day of your life, perhaps looking at him with the same eyes as his. He wanted to make you feel as you were the center of his universe, his queen, but he failed miserably. Maybe if he had gotten any outstanding results today he wouldn’t be so upset, but it was just another ordinary day. The lady tried talking with him but he was lost in his thoughts. Knowing it’s late and that you’re waiting for him, he bought a pearl necklace and left in hurry. On his way home he tried thinking of what to say, what excuse would be the best but he concluded that all of them were outdated.
Before opening the door, he hid the small package in the inner pocket of his coat. That lady was in hurry to close the store and didn't want to wrap the necklace if gift wrap. Wesker will remember that.
“I’m home!” He shouted once he entered. He may screw up, but he is not a man who runs away from conflict or a man who doesn’t own his mistakes.
“I thought you’d spend the night in your lab.” She said while giving him a peck on his cheek. “You need a vacation dear, you’ll be worn out before your time”
You were so carrying with him, so kind, but he couldn’t enjoy it. He didn’t deserve your kindness.
“There is something I need to tell you.”
“About?” You were starting to get worried. He left in hurry this morning and you didn’t hear anything from him all day. Excella told you briefly about him, but she talked more about the purse she bought for you which was more for her taste, not yours. Judging by his face you realized he had something on his mind, but you would never think it was because he forgot about your birthday. You expected him to talk about an outbreak rather than your forgotten birthday. To your surprise, he started apologizing.
“I was so caught up in my work I-“ he considers apologies a waste of time since we could do better things with our mortality and limited time, but for a reason, humans care about these.
“It’s alright my love.” You caress his face as a reassuring sign. “I understand.” You’re not upset at him. He genuinely cares about you and you can’t judge him, not after all the good things he has done for you. And besides, you know he doesn’t fully mean it, but you appreciate that he still does it for the sake of your feelings.
You began to caress his cheeks, to place small kisses all over his face. You see him rarely so you make sure to show him how much you love him as well. You hug him and he instantly hugged you back. After a while, you broke the hug and lead him to the couch so you can talk about each other’s day. He’s thankful you both moved on.
Eventually, you two got more comfortable. You let all your weight fall over his body as his strong arms were wrapped around your torso. His big hands were caressing your back while you found your peace in that small, almost suffocating, clasp. You almost fell asleep when a gentle squeeze woke you.
“I almost forgot.” He said, almost whispering, before handing you your gift. “It’s not what I had planned, but I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.”
Hazily, you took the small box Albert handled to you. It was a normal, jewelry box with the logo of the store on it. Inside there was a beautiful, shiny pearl necklace. Your delicate fingers touched the pearls with care, feeling their gritty texture and small bumps here and there. It weighs heavy in your hands. You fell in love instantly with the accessory. Seeing how happy you are, Albert offered to put it at your neck. Its elegance enhanced your natural beauty. It looks like it was made solely for you, like an extension of your body.
“I bet it was a lot.” You said with a somehow sorrow in your voice. You don’t want Albert to spend heavy money on you, because it’s his presence that you enjoy and value the most.
“Don’t worry about it, I like spending money on you.” And it was true, he loves dressing you in the most expensive clothing to flatter your body. You’re a goddess to him. Not to mention it strokes his ego to know that he’s able to provide such beautiful things to you. “At least this is what I can do.”
“And it’s perfect this way.” You can see him relax a little.
“I’ll make it up to you, I just need some time.” Time, mortality, death. Once again he was reminded of his plan that was supposed to fix humanity's greatest flaw, and his expression suddenly changed. That didn’t get past Y/N’s attention.
“Albert sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, some problems I need to solve.”
“Are they urgent?”
“Yes, very.”
“I’m sure they can wait until tomorrow.”
He scanned your body carefully. You weren’t getting any younger. Time left its mark on you. Not in an unpleasant way, but still noticeable.
“There something I need to tell you.” He said while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you how you admire your new necklace. In the lights of the vanity mirror the pearls shine brighter, being more appealing than before making it impossible to take your eyes off them.
“What is it?” You said while gazing at your own reflection.
He choose his words carefully, but no matter how he put them, it could scare you. It’s not the time or the place. He doesn’t want to ruin your happiness. His actual surprise might not sit well with you, but it’s not your choice after all. If he considers it the best option for you he will do it regardless of your opinion. Still, this day came out better than he expected.
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Tumblr media
Tags: @xx-sectumsempra-xx @residentzero2028 @heisentitties (dm if you wanna be in the tag list)
119 notes · View notes
k3lynn · 4 years ago
Text
already won — kenma kozume
Tumblr media Tumblr media
kenma kozume x f!reader oneshot
- cw: jealous kenma, insecure kenma, like one or two cuss words, reassurence. barely angsty but very fluffy- more comedic than anything. shows more of the angry-kitty kenma than the shy-kitty kenma
- summary: 1.3k | kenma gets jealous after someone confesses their feelings for you
- this is my first oneshot ahh- please tell me what you think! also check out my masterlist (will frequently add more stuff) thank you for reading! this is a female reader but I will gladly do gender neutral or male!
back to haikyuu masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Kenma walked down Nekoma High’s hallways, only passing a couple of students as most chose to stay in class during their break. In one hand, he held a bag with two apple pie flavored umaibo bars, and in the other, his phone.
Normally, he would be confident enough in his reflexes to never look up from his device and also not bump into someone, but he stared so intensely at his phone that he barely had time to react before he crashed into Yamamoto, sending himself flying to the ground.
“Pudding Head-“ the other second year loudly announced. “what’s got you so distracted man?”
In between getting up and muttering curses at gravity for letting him fall, Kenma softly spoke “Im heading off to Y/n’s class, she needs to speak with me.”
“In person? Must be prettyyyyy serious-“ he turned to see Kenma’s worried face “I mean it’s probably nothing!”
But Kenma just stared at him with a deadpanned expression.
“Wanna share an umaibo bar?”
“No.”
-
Despite knowing Tora meant no real harm, Kenma couldn’t help but almost (Almost, he swears) let his words get to him. The two of you have been dating for nearly a year, and your relationship seems perfectly okay to him. One or two dumb arguments, but nothing you both didn’t get through together. He knows you still love him.
What if it’s me-
And Kenma stopped his negative train of thought right there. No point getting nervous over something that hasn’t happened yet. He reasoned with himself.
As if the gods were playing some cruel joke on the poor boy, two girls came gossiping from around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was there. If it weren’t for the sound of your name, Kenma would have never listened into the conversation.
“Did you hear about what was on Y/n’s desk this morning?”
“That first years love letter right, I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend though- do you think she’ll replace him?”
“That quiet setter on the volleyball team? I would barely consider him a boyfr-“
Interrupted by a soft thud and a crinkle, the girls turned around and squeeled in fright to see nothing but a plastic bag. Kenma didn’t let himself hear anymore before he started sprinting to your classroom. Darting across hallways, racing around corners, and even scurrying around a very confused Kuroo, who has never seen Kenma run outside of Volleyball.
He barely let himself breathe before sliding open the door to your classroom and barging in, pausing only when he realized the amount of startled faces looking straight at him. Not one to fancy all the attention, his eyes danced around the students until he finally made eye contact with you.
He quickly motioned for you to go outside before slowly closing the door. Kenma leaned his back againts the wall and took a deep breath. It wasn’t until you emerged from outside the classroom that he looked up.
Your typically-stoic boyfriend just came running into your classroom as if he witnessed a murder, so it’s safe to say you were a bit concerned at what he was about to say. Although once Kenma explained what he had overheard, you couldn’t help and giggle at the realization.
“So you’re jealous of the first year huh.”
“Don’t tease...”
With a sigh, you took his hand in one of yours, and used the other to tilt his chin up and look at you. If you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks before, then you could definitely see it now.
“Want to talk about it babe?”
He wouldn’t be able to play his way out of this, Kenma had no choice but to be direct with how he felt.
“I know you love me, and you do everything you can to show me that-“
You nodded.
“but I’m terrified at the idea that one day you’ll find someone that’s better in expressing their feelings than me. Like with a love letter.”
He quietly finished. There was silence for only a moment before your arms found their place around his small shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug which he happily returned. He was so comfortable in your embrace that he had almost forgotten what he came for.
“Can I just start off by saying I’m really proud of you?” Your voice cut straight through the hushed air. “It takes a lot out of anyone to be able to say what they feel. I know it can be a bit more difficult for you.”
And yet you still try and do it when necessary. Kenma I know you love me too. You have nothing to worry about.”
Kenma wasn’t one to cry in public, but, this did make him come close.
It wouldn’t help his current situation, but curiousity got the best of him-
“Can I read the letter?”
You grinned a bit before handing it over to him, holding in a laugh from seeing his distasteful face and hearing the small curses he swore under his breath.
With how hard he gripped the paper, you were sure it would easily tear.
“He wants to meet you in the front courtyard after school to hear your answer.”
“I know, I’m planning on going.”
“Good idea, go break his heart.”
“No Kenma, I’m going to let him down slowly. Feelings are delicate and deserve to be respected.”
“His feelings don’t deserve jack shit.”
“Kenma!” You loudly chuckled. His monotoned voice making his choice of language even funnier-
“Whatever” his hands came down to grip your waist before giving you a shy kiss on the shoulder.
“I’ll beat the competition.” He muttered into your neck.
“Am I one of your games now?” You teased.
“Beep boop beep boop” he poked at your back.
“Kenma?”
“Yeah?”
You pull him back a bit to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose “You’ve already won.”
-
Bonus:
Kenma should have known Kuroo’s “disguises”, if you could even call them that, wouldn’t work. The trench coat and large hat the both of them wore did them no mercy in the hot Tokyo sun, and instead brought them more attention to ongoing passer-biers who probably thought they were up to some illegal activities.
Out of nowhere, Tora came aggressively crashing into the bushes that hid Kuroo and Kenma, adorned with his own form of camouflage that consisted of a simple fake mustache and sunglasses, holding a familiar looking plastic bag.
“I came as soon as I got your message Kuroo-san, care for an umaibo bar?”
“Hey that’s-“
“Shush Pudding boy it’s starting.”
The three of them pull out a pair of binoculars, aiming it towards you, sitting on the bench but standing up once you see a sheepish boy, who you assumed sent the letter, walk towards you.
You gave him a sorry looking smile before speaking with him. From this distance, Kenma could just make out the words “flattered but... boyfriend and... great guy...” satisfied at the view of you handing him his letter back.
The first year looked a bit deflated but nevertheless seemed happy to be talking with his crush. Kuroo and Tora backed up a bit at the image of Kenma’s frustration. They could have sworn they saw flames-
“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo spoke between munches “didn’t YN just make it clear she was in love with you or something”
“yeah” Kenma sighed.
“Why are we here then?”
“To make sure this creep doesn’t try anything with my girlfriend.”
“Oi Kenma,” Kuroo gave him a good slap on the back, and from behind the binoculars, Kenma glared. The three boys turned back to the scene, just in time to see you giving him a handshake.
“He’s practically holding her hand.”
“Kenma-“
Tumblr media Tumblr media
© 2021 k3lynn, do not modify or repost without permission
603 notes · View notes
kreidewaltz · 4 years ago
Note
skyblue + thorns + tsukishima <3 congrats sm on 200 luv ily
COTTAGECORE DREAM | T.K.
Tumblr media
about. he knows you're exhausted from all the work you're doing. he decided to bring you to a flower field and he thought he might fall in love all over again.
word count. 1.6k
genre & warnings. fluff, timeskip, comedy, established relationship, mentions of overworking, teeny tiny suggestive.
author's note. i was abt to make this angst but changed the last minute >< sorry for getting to this vv late pls enjoy this bc he's done w all the angst we're giving him he says <3 not prfr as usual okay
Tumblr media
“be careful, dumbass.” he expected you to frown at his choice of words, instead you give him a wide smile before doing dances in the middle of the flower field. he pushes his glasses up to his nose to distract himself since he hears the wild beating of his heart. a gasp leaves your lips when your hand touches the different kinds of flowers and you get enchanted when you look at them closely. the azaleas are your favorite because of the bright color it brings to the field and it blends in beautifully. when your boyfriend mentions you’re going here, the hitachi seaside park, it felt like the worries and problems stacking up in your life disappeared for a moment.
you grabbed your blue instax camera and took pictures of the flowers dancing with the wind and took a picture of your boyfriend under the bright sun. you move the polaroid for a few minutes before hiding it in your tote bag before running through the field and imagine as if you were on a music video. he shoved his hands in his pockets, watching you get exhilarated with a smile dancing on his lips. he trails behind you and glance at the tulips few meters from him. he thinks of picking it but he didn't want to cause worry in the field that's suppose to distract you from work. he recalls the trouble he's forced to go through with you since you became a little reckless but he has no regrets, he's done those things with you after all.
"kei! come here!" you wave your hands while he chuckles to himself before taking large strides towards you. you loop your arms together, walking around the field which looks amazing when you're in it. we should come here again, you noted. 
a part of you is relieved that he thought of going here with you to unwind from everything. you recall the time he carried you in bridal style and covered you with blankets, with that you learned that you have no one to blame but yourself. his preposition began when you keep doing that one thing he tells you not to—overworking then excuse it as a way to be productive.
-
he wasn’t supposed to find you like this.
he wasn’t supposed to see papers and pens scattered around your desk, the cup of coffee in your coaster that he never saw empty in the time he checked up on you. “kei, ten minutes!” you pleaded with a pout on your lips and look at him, your voice laced with desperation because you really needed to finish this email tonight or as your friend quotes, you’re damned. you rub your hands together and shut your eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t protest or flick you in the forehead. your boyfriend sighs in defeat before going back to your shared bedroom, a joyful aura surrounding your face when he didn’t react violently. 
your co-worker messaged you earlier asking about the client’s response about the presentation he did a few days prior. he spams you with messages asking why it is taking so long to hear about the response and while you’re typing, you remembered your conversation with him last friday. you were supposed to email the client and provide him basic information about the presentation and add the link so he can thoroughly look at it. for once, oikawa wasn’t the irresponsible one between the two of you and you swear he’s not going to let you forget about this. damn oikawa, you curse in your head before stretching your arms.
you shoot him a text saying i’ll send it tonight and add emoticons even though it contradicts on what you’re feeling right now. you went through your emails and drafted what you wanted to say, the link, and double checked if there are grammatical mistakes and whatnot. when you’re sending an email to a client without checking the message and the information, it lacks decency and poor time management, that’s what you tell yourself. 
luckily when you overwork you don’t do it for weeks but you force your work and deadlines on a day. when he heard you saying this, you hear his caring boyfriend scolding as you call it and flicks your forehead with a frown on his face but you got a glimpse of his lips twitching afterwards. while you’re mentally panicking on how to finish the email that reaches your standards, tsukishima is laying down, staring at the ceiling with his hand running on the (your) empty side of the bed, looking for your warmth. he misses your gentle touch when you draw miscellaneous shapes on his back.
he hopes you get yourself together and actually takes care of you but he doubts you’ll do that, you’re stubborn and prioritize work over yourself. he slowly sits up and grabs a pillow to put in between his legs before opening his phone, thinking of what to say that’ll get you out of your desk. he tries to remember an activity or a place that you’ve mentioned because he misses seeing you being happy without worrying about deadlines or your co-workers. after looking around the room he sees the tulips he gave a month ago, looking bright and healthy since you insisted on not letting the flowers die. ah i’ve got it she’ll like this, he thought of a place he knows you’ll enjoy and begins to search on his phone, knowing he’s got you wrapped around his finger.
-
“hey, c’mere for a second.” your boyfriend rests his hands around your shoulders while you hum, your eyes going back and forth to your laptop and the papers around your desk. he knows you wouldn’t budge so he propped his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his long arms around you. “don’t be a brat.” he whispers too close to your ear which makes you pause on typing and look away because now you’re only thinking about how close he is and the way his voice gets low. 
“consider this as your break, you dork.” he lightly flick your forehead before leading you to the room and the way his face turned to a serious one after locking the door raised suspicions in your head. he grabs the wooden stool and sat there while you’re on the edge of the bed, wanting to know his intentions for locking the two of you. “i’m thinking of going out tomorrow,” he started off gently, and right now he waits for your—
“what about my work?” 
“ah ah, stop talking about work, idiot.” he effectively shuts you up when he rests his finger above your lips and when your shoulders slump and let out a sigh, he knows he’s got your full attention. he pushes his glasses up to his nose to focus himself and clears his throat to continue. he’s getting distracted with the way you look adorable with lounge wear.
“we’ll go to the hitachi seaside park, to get your mind off work and stuff…” you couldn’t hide your enthusiasm and squeal repeatedly while moving your feet around the air. the fondness you have for him never decreases but it grew more and more, but you don’t mind at all. your first reaction was to jump at him and wrap your arms around him but seeing the stool he’s sitting on, you didn’t want to risk having injuries. he remembered, you thought while he looks to the side and act nonchalant about it, but the faint redness to his ears going to his neck failed his cover. you opted to grab the dinosaur plush sitting quietly on the bed and lightly hit him with it, convincing him to let loose. the two of you made eye contact and mouthed thanks and your eyes full of sincerity is more than enough for him. he holds your hand and gives it two squeezes, his way of saying no problem, i got you. 
-
and we ended up here. 
“babe, i know i’m great and i’m flattered but,” you couldn’t continue to talk as laughter bubbles up your chest and clutch your stomach to laugh out loud. he looks like a long stick a few meters away and you walk back to him, twirling so your dress can spin gracefully. he quickly looks at you when he realized what he did, one is stare at you for too long, and two he got caught. you bat your eyelashes to tease him while he curses under his breath. 
you take a quick glance at your bag to see if the polaroid showed the picture already and your mouth parted seeing the result. the picture looks ethereal, the left side too bright because of the sun, the colors of nature and your boyfriend tying everything together. after hiding it in your bag, you offer your hand. 
“let’s go! don’t leave me there.” a pout coming to your lips before intertwining your fingers together and walking around the field in silence. this is what he needed after the games he had, a day to indulge in whatever he wanted, what you wanted. earlier, you're on your favorite restaurant and got a box of desserts to enjoy when you got home. you’re pulling him where the narcissuses flowers are gathered. 
“mhm, hey give me your camera.” you hum to his question, completely focused on the narcissuses. he presses the button beside the camera and tries to find the angle he’s looking for, he also wears the strap to prevent it from falling. it’s his gift to you in the first place. he takes a few steps to the side and angles the camera to his chest and when he takes a look at it, he wants that scene imprinted on his memory forever. your hands almost cupping the white petals, and pretend to blow it and giggles slip from your lips, thinking you look hilarious. the sky behind you creates a happy yet calming atmosphere to the picture, and there’s one thing left to do—
click. 
Tumblr media
140 notes · View notes
kpop-zone · 3 years ago
Text
True North | Chuu
High School AU | exes | “I let you mooch off of my Netflix and this is how you repay me?” | “It’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”
Genre: angsty
Wordcount: 1,870
Tumblr media
As soon as you stepped foot into the classroom, you instantly felt like turning around and running away again. Of course, she was there. Laughing with people that she probably didn’t even know. But as the social butterfly that she was, she could charm every person on this planet in less than a second. Just like she had charmed you. You hated yourself for hating to see her this happy. You didn’t want to be that ex. But somehow you couldn’t bear to know that she was absolutely unfazed by your breakup while you were still looking through your pictures every night. Just when you were contemplating whether this was enough reason for you to drop this class, you could suddenly feel someone tapping your shoulder, so you turned around in confusion.
“Are you already tired of my class before the school year has even really started?”
Mr.Kim, your math teacher, asked with an amused expression on his face, causing your eyes to widen in shock.
“N-no of course not!”
You stuttered, feeling like he had just caught you redhanded. Embarrassed, you lowered your head and quickly entered the room to search for a vacant seat. What a great way to leave a good impression on the first day of school... Not wanting to make an even worse impression, you quickly rummaged through your backpack to fish out your calculator and your pencil case when you suddenly felt someone tapping your shoulder once more. Stressed out, you turned around, just to be met with the wide (and highly adorable) grin of your ex-girlfriend who waved excitedly at you from the seat right behind you. In an instant, your already bad mood got even worse, and you rolled your eyes before turning to the front again. You already knew that this would be your least favorite class throughout the whole school year. The rest of the week confirmed your suspicion as you were able to avoid your girlfriend wherever else you were going. You attended no other classes together and in the cafeteria you always made sure to pick a table at the opposite side from where she was sitting. It made it easier not to think about her all of the time which was why you had a stomachache right before your next math class on Monday. You knew that seeing her would demolish all progress in getting over her in the blink of an eye.
But to your surprise Jiwoo wasn’t entertaining the whole class yet when you entered the room later than usual after having given yourself a pep talk in front of the school for almost ten minutes. Her seat was still empty, making you hope that she had dropped the class for some inexplicable reason. Nervously, you wriggled about on your chair while staring at the clock on the wall incessantly. There were only a few more seconds left till the class would start. If she wasn’t here yet it had to mean that she would not show up anymore, relieving you of the burden to see her every week, right? To your dismay, however, your ex-girlfriend breathlessly stumbled into the classroom with two iced beverages in her hand right when the bell rang to indicate the start of the first period. Like the needle of compass always found north, her eyes immediately found yours, causing her face to light up in an instant.
With big steps she headed directly for you like she was on some sort of mission, making you get smaller and smaller in your seat. You couldn’t even stand seeing her without having the urge to fling your arms around her neck to beg her to take you back, you definitely weren’t strong enough to talk with her. For a split-second you thought about running away, but before you could make a decision, a high-pitched squeal catapulted you back to reality again. Jiwoo’s wide grin had suddenly turned into a horrified grimace, and you felt a cold shudder spreading from your chest to the rest of your body. Confused, you looked down on yourself, making you realize that one of the beverages that Jiwoo had proudly paraded around, had found its way onto your shirt.
“I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to. I stumbled over your backpack and somehow the cup slipped out of my hand.”
Jiwoo gasped, still frozen to the spot. Your initial shock quickly died down as the ice-cold liquid seeped through your clothes, managing to wake you up better than any warm coffee.
“Are you serious?? I let you mooch off of my Netflix and this is how you repay me?!”
You growled angrily, 100% certain that Jiwoo had dropped the beverage on you on purpose.
“No!!! It’s not like that! This was not on purpose.”
Your ex-girlfriend yelled in despair, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes that had always been able to make you forgive her for everything.
“I can fix this!”
From one second to the other, Jiwoo’s annoyingly contagious positivity was back and before you knew what was happening, you already felt yourself being pulled off your chair towards the door. Without granting you a voice, Jiwoo dragged you through the almost empty hallways of your school to -as you assumed- the restrooms. Instead of protesting against Jiwoo’s unsolicited decision, however, you were busy staring at her hand that was tightly gripping your wrist. As much as you fought it, you couldn’t suppress the tingling feeling in your stomach that the much longed for feeling of Jiwoo’s touch on your skin caused. While the two of you had been dating, there had barely been a moment when you hadn’t held hands. And after you had broken up, you sometimes felt like you were going through some sort of phantom pain because your hands felt so empty without hers to hold. Now everything finally felt in place again and you couldn’t help but to wish that Jiwoo would never let go. Unfortunately, however, everything had to come to an end eventually. And your daydreaming of a time when everything was still alright came to an abrupt halt when someone suddenly called your name.
“Y/N?”
With a jolt you snapped you out of your trance and realized that Jiwoo neither was holding your wrist anymore nor dragging you through the hallways. The two of you had already reached one of the restrooms of your school and she was staring at you expectantly like she was waiting for you to say something.
“W-what?”
You asked confused, only faintly being aware that Jiwoo had asked you a question.
“I asked whether it’s ok that I clean your shirt?”
She repeated herself although this was the first time that you actually understood what she had been saying. Still feeling like you weren’t able to form a coherent verbal response because your brain had run too hot, you simply nodded and Jiwoo softly started dabbing a wet paper towel on the giant brown stain on your shirt.
“Oh no, this is your favorite shirt even, isn’t it?”
Jiwoo whined when the stain didn’t vanish as she had hoped, but you couldn’t even care less about it anymore. She remembered what your favorite shirt was? You knew that you shouldn’t feel so flattered by this unimportant fact, but your heart didn’t seem to care about what your brain had to say and fluttered in your chest by its own accord. This would be the perfect opportunity to make her feel bad and finally wipe that annoying grin off her face at least for a while, but once more you remained silent. Jiwoo didn’t seem to be bothered by your silence though. Instead, she started babbling about random things like always when she was nervous, and you simply listened to her sweet voice that you had missed so much. You didn’t know how long you stood there, allowing yourself to get completely entranced by her charms. Once more only an unexpected sound could rip you out of your daydreaming although this time the wake-up call was more unpleasant than the last one. It was the sound of your own voice that abruptly ripped you out of your trance. The most surprising thing about hearing your own voice was that you hadn’t even intended to speak. But it seemed like after the betrayal of your heart, now also your brain had plotted against you.
“It’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”
It took you some time to process what your mouth had let slip without your permission, but as soon as the message arrived in your brain, your eyes widened in shock and your body tensed up. Jiwoo mirrored your reaction and stopped dabbing your shirt before slowly looking up from your shirt and into your eyes. It was hard to pinpoint what emotions flashed over your ex-girlfriend’s face as your own emotions seemed to ride a rollercoaster in your brain. A little part of yourself was relieved to be freed of this secret. But you were also angry at yourself for letting the truth slip. After letting Jiwoo break your heart, you had sworn yourself to never let her know that she still had a grip on you despite everything that she had done to you. You told yourself that she would never be allowed to know that she still managed to make you fall in love with her over and over again. Every day. Every time that you had to see her.
But now she knew.
And you couldn’t help but to feel ashamed. Although you had known that Jiwoo obviously did not suffer from the breakup like you did, you gave her the gratification of revealing the power that she still had over you. Not being able to bear this shame any longer, you quickly shoved Jiwoo away, causing her to stumble backwards dumbfounded. Without losing another word, you brushed past her and fled the restroom. The tears that pooled in your eyes and stained the floor, made it hard to see where you were going but you trusted your instincts to get you as far away from Jiwoo as you possibly could. Once again, however, her omnipresent grasp reached out for you as her name rolled off her tongue and automatically made you slow your steps.
“Y/N, wait!”
Her voice bounced off the walls in the empty hallway and seemed to follow you until you reached the front exit, but this time, you didn’t give in to Jiwoo’s grasp. You kept running until you had long left the school building and couldn’t even see it anymore. You only stopped running once your lungs burned and you felt too lost to keep going although you knew this part of town like the back of your hand. It was no help to know the names of the streets by heart when none of these places could make the compass needle in your heart stop spinning. No matter where you would run, the needle would always keep on pointing in the same direction. Your feet would always want to carry you back to the same place.
To your true north that you had just left behind.
106 notes · View notes
pipes-loves-writing · 3 years ago
Text
second fic I’ve posted! I’m so sorry for being so inactive… with no new content I’m feeling very unmotivated. Thanks for everyone who stuck around and support me! I’m here if you ever need to talk. I love you all! :)
There is absolutely no problem with Seb and Carlos working together.
Nope.
No problem at all.
Oh, except for the fact that Seb has been in love with Carlos since before he even met him.
But that’s not important.
Not at all.
He didn’t mean to fall in love with Carlos, truly he didn’t. But, honestly, how couldn’t you?
Mr. Cilli clapped his hands together rhythmically. “Alright everyone, today we’ll be ending our civil war unit. We’re going to be doing a project, it being the end of the year and all. You will work with a partner to create a fake episode of a tv show based around the idea of the civil war. Any questions?”
`Natalie Bagley shot her hand into the air. “Will we get to pick our partners?”
“Unfortunately not. You’ll work with whoever is sitting next to you.”
Seb turned his head to the side and realized that no one was sitting next to him. How had he not noticed that earlier?
Carlos Rodriguez came running through the history door and dropped a few pieces of paper and pencils.
Every other group had started working on the project already. No one even noticed that Carlos was here.
Well, almost no one.
“Mr. Rodriguez, that’s the third time this week. Next time I have to write you a detention slip.”
“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”
Seb’s legs started moving before his mind did, and before he noticed, he had gotten up to help Carlos.
“Here. You dropped a few things.” Seb handed Carlos a pencil from the ground.
“Thank you,” Carlos paused for a second before saying, “Pencils, you know? They’re slippery.”
Seb smiled at Carlos. “Yeah, I guess.”
Carlos quickly nodded and went to sit down in the chair next to Seb’s.
Mr. Cilli scribbled something down in his notebook and said, “Carlos, I assume that means you and Seb are working together.”
Seb’s eyes widened. Carlos? Working with him? He had to stop himself from smiling too wide.
“I mean,” Carlos started, “is that okay? With you I mean?”
Seb allowed himself to smile. “Yeah that’d be great.”
Carlos took a notebook out of his backpack and set it in front of him. “I’m Carlos. By the way.”
Seb smiled a little wider. “Oh I know. I’m Seb!”
“You.. know?” Seb couldn’t entirely read Carlos’s expression.
Seb widened his eyes. “I meant,” he searched his mind for an excuse, “I know your name. Like the name Carlos. It’s a- it’s a pretty name.” Well played. That didn’t sound too creepy. Probably.
Carlos looked almost flattered? Seb still couldn’t entirely understand. He could definitely understand the blush running to his face right now though.
“Thank you.” Carlos hesitated for a moment. “You have a pretty name too.”
Seb finally broke free from eye contact. Wow. Carlos had really pretty eyes. They were almost… distracting?
“But also,” Seb started, “I’ve seen you on the color guard. You’re really good!”
Carlos didn’t answer for a moment. “You really think so?”
Seb was surprised that Carlos would doubt his talent even for a second. “I know so. My older sister was the captain of the color guard before you, and she’s very impressed with their new leader.”
Carlos furrowed his eyebrows. Then he lightly gasped. “Your sister is Georgie Matthew-Smith?”
Seb thought Carlos looked like a lost puppy when he looked confused. It was so cute, that he almost forgot to answer the question. “The one and only! I’m not as talented in the dance department though.”
Carlos laughed, “Maybe you’ve just never had the right teacher.”
Seb just hummed in response. “So what are we thinking for this tv episode project?”
“Hmm.” Carlos thought for a moment. Then he gasped, “We should do something similar to a Glee episode! Like maybe they have to do a week where they have to sing songs that talk about the civil war? Or something similar to that?” He looked over at Seb, who was looking at him in a way he couldn’t exactly place. Carlos blushed and looked away. “Sorry. I was just being a gleek. Please ignore the last 30 seconds of your life.”
“I love glee. It’s my favorite show.”
Carlos smiled wider.
“That’s a great idea, Carlos. Let’s do it.”
..
The next day, Seb walked into the classroom with a smile on his face. He had spent his entire class time with Carlos yesterday, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Sure, they were both a little awkward, but Seb found it almost endearing.
Carlos ran into the classroom again and put his papers on the desk next to Seb. The bell rang and Carlos texted something to someone. Seb got a glimpse of his wallpaper before he closed his phone.
“Hey. I like your wallpaper on your phone!”
Carlos looked at him. “You like Broadway?”
Seb scoffed, “Are you kidding? Who doesn’t?”
Carlos rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised to know how many people did ‘Brigadoon’ and didn’t actually care for theatre.”
Seb pretended to look surprised, “You were in ‘Brigadoon’?” Of course he knew that Carlos was in this year’s spring show. He had been dying for a chance to have just one scene with him so they could talk.
“Yeah! I was ensemble.”
Seb smiled and said, “I was ensemble too! And I totally agree. If you don’t like theatre, why do the shows?”
Carlos smiled. “I didn’t even want to be in the show either. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love performing. But,” he trailed off for a second. “I actually wanted to be choreographer.” Carlos squeezed his eyes shut, fully prepared for Seb to start laughing.
“And they didn’t let you be one? That’s awful. You’re the best dancer in this school. In this city even! Anyone would be crazy not to make you a choreographer.”
Carlos looked at Seb for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.
“Okay everyone! You did some brainstorming yesterday. Today you’ll start the slideshow for the project. Then tomorrow we’ll present to the class.”
Carlos finally broke eye contact with Seb and looked down at his paper.
“So? What about you?” Carlos asked subtly.
Seb raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”
“Do you have a dream role?”
Seb hesitated. “Don’t laugh.”
“Seb. I’m not going to laugh at you.”
Seb looked up at Carlos. “Sharpay,” he says quietly.
“Sharpay? Like from High School Musical?”
Seb couldn’t look at Carlos. He was too scared to see his reaction. Would he change his mind and laugh at Seb?
“Wow. You’d be great as Sharpay!”
Seb listened for sarcasm, but he didn’t seem to hear any. He looked at Carlos.
Seb didn’t really know what to say, so he just blushed and hoped Carlos didn’t notice.
Carlos was too busy blushing to notice the other boy’s red face.
Today was the big presentation day. Seb was a little nervous, but he was a performer! He could do anything.
Mostly anything that is.
“Okay,” Mr. Cilli announced, “Today is presentation day! I’ll give you guys 10 minutes to review, and then we’ll start with Natalie and Kaden, Ashlyn and Steph, Seb and Carlos,” the teacher went on and on about the order of groups presenting, but Seb had been distracted. Carlos still wasn’t in class. He wouldn’t ditch on the day of presenting.
Right?
Seb took out his phone and texted Carlos.
‘Hey is everything okay?’ He sent the message and waited for a response. He checked his phone after two minutes. No response.
Seb shot up his hand and asked to go to the bathroom.
He ran out the door and speed-walked down the hall.
When he threw open the bathroom door, he saw Carlos pacing back and forth across the small space. He looked so panicked, it made Seb kind of want to cry.
Carlos heard Seb open the door and looked over at him. Seb’s eyes were filled with so much worry and another emotion Carlos couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Carlos stopped against the wall and slid down to sit. He could feel his breathing getting faster, and he tried to slow it down.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Seb said in a hushed voice. He walked over next to him. “What’s wrong ‘Los? Why are you pacing?”
Carlos threw his head back. He was so scared that he didn’t comment on the cute nickname. “I’m scared, Seb. The last thing I read in front of people was a report in February. And it was a group project with four people. I barely had to talk.”
Carlos’s hands were fidgeting so much that Seb reached over and grabbed both of them with his own.
Carlos was so nervous that he barely noticed.
Okay, that was a complete lie.
Seb’s hands holding Carlos’s and his pretty blue eyes made Carlos forget all his worries. Seb’s hands were warm and soft. You would think they’d be rough from all the farm work, but they weren’t for some reason. Carlos would have to ask him about them one day.
“That’s not true Carlos. You memorized all the songs in Brigadoon in under a week. You were the first one in the cast who was off book.” Seb thought for a moment. “Just imagine it being a performance. You’re really good at those.”
Carlos looks at Seb. But this time, he really looks at him.
Seb has a bit of acne. His eyes are a little darker blue than he’d noticed before. His hands are a little sweaty. And his hair is messed up a little.
And honestly?
Carlos thinks he’s so beautiful.
Before either of them notice, about 15 seconds has passed.
Carlos is about to say something, but Seb speaks up instead.
“We should probably get back to class. Our project isn’t going to present itself.”
When they get back in the classroom, they’ve been gone about 6 minutes. Mr. Cilli has always been lenient towards his students, so they only get a warning.
When it’s their turn to present, Carlos can’t stop looking at Seb. All he can think about is what he said earlier. And also, just him in general.
Seb isn’t looking at Carlos. He’s too worried that he’ll get lost in Carlos’s eyes, so he just avoids eye contact. Which pains him a little bit, but it’s alright.
In the end, their presentation gets a B.
They get points off for being distracted during the presentation.
And they’re both more than okay with that.
-pipes 🤍
26 notes · View notes
bokutosworld · 4 years ago
Text
third time’s a charm | bokuto koutarou
a/n: posting this in advance hehe happy birthday to my golden boy, sunshine baby, and the best ace, bokuto! i am so. in love with him. thank you furudate-sensei for creating him :’) 
pairing: bokuto x f!reader
wc: 2.4k words of mutual pining and birthday fluff.
summary: bokuto has been wanting to confess his feelings for you, but you take him by surprise.  
Tumblr media
--
you met bokuto on your first year in fukurodani. despite being in the same year, you’ve only heard about him through stories told by classmates and friends. he was a powerful spiker, an up-and-coming volleyball ace, and you respected him for that.  
it wasn't until that one rainy day that you met him. classes just finished and you were packing your things when the rain came pouring down. and it was only your luck that you forgot to bring an umbrella that day.
you hadn't realized how long you have been standing in the school entrance, near the shoe lockers, until you heard shuffling beside you. there was bokuto, seated on the doorway and tying his shoes. when he looked up at you, he was grinning from ear to ear - you've heard it was his signature smile - and it seemed to brighten up that rainy and gloomy afternoon.  
'hey! wanna come home with me?' he said this so casually that you weren't sure if you heard him right. if anybody heard him, they could easily misinterpret him. he must have noticed that you were looking at him incredulously, 'oy! don't get me wrong! i just figured you didn't have an umbrella and we could maybe share! besides, we're going in the same way!'
how he knew where you lived was a mystery to you. of course, bokuto wouldn't admit that he had his eye on you for a while and that he passed by your classroom earlier, seeing you packing your things and noticed you didn't have an umbrella. you didn't want to question him further, because here he was offering you a safe and dry option to go home. so you accepted, 'i'd like that. thank you...'
'bokuto koutarou! but you can call me bokuto or koutarou. whichever you like really!' it was cute how he fumbled over his words, he hoped you didn't notice that he was too excited to be interacting with you. you smiled, 'thank you, bokuto. i'm y/n.' 
on the walk home, bokuto proved to be a gentleman. his umbrella was big enough to cover the both of you but you noticed him tilting it to your side to make sure you didn't get wet from the rain. you guys made some small talk, catching up on your subjects, how the classes were treating you. you even asked him how volleyball was going for him.
when you finally arrived at your home, you thanked him and even offered to let him inside so he could dry himself. but he was shy and insisted that you can just pay him back at school then he went on his way. you were left standing at your door, wondering what he meant. but you couldn't deny that you were looking forward to getting to know him more.
the following morning, bokuto made his way to your class during lunch. he sat down at your desk, and it was as if you two were best buddies as he chatted with you and told you stories about his morning training. as much as you were surprised, you didn't mind it and indulged him. your classmates were a witness to the blossoming friendship between the two of you.
since that day, you and bokuto were inseparable. from helping him study, accompanying him in his extra trainings, and even going out of your way to make him cute little bentos, you showed him support in the ways you knew possible as his best friend. everyone thought you guys were dating. towards the end of the year, rumors were circulating that you and bokuto are together. you chose to ignore it, not wanting to ruin the wonderful friendship that you two shared.
however, unknown to you, those gossips were sparking something in bokuto. he always thought you were a great person - smart, attractive, kind. the recent talk in school made him realize that he saw you as a woman and he was yearning for something more with you.
so one day, bokuto decided that he was going to confess to you after school. when he dropped you off at your house, he stayed for a few minutes. he stood there in front of you, fidgeting and you thought it was cute. you figured he wanted to say something so you waited. but just as he finally mustered up the courage to say he likes you, the front door opened, revealing your dad. bokuto panicked and looked between you and your dad. 'hello sir! i was just taking her home.' he bowed and his gaze flitted over to you, 'i'll see you tomorrow at school!' and the boy ran away fast, leaving you and your father with confused looks on your faces.  
second year arrived and you guys were closer than ever. however, you were both busy with club activities - you with student council responsibilities and bokuto with trainings and practice matches for the volleyball club.
the two of you saw each other in the hallways, stopping by to hug each other and have conversation before class started. sometimes, you would see each other in the cafeteria where he was often sitting with his team and you with your own group of friends. you would exchange knowing looks across the hall and both your friends would tease you. bokuto was already used to it, but you were always a blushing mess. 
one morning, bokuto came to your the student council room before the classes started. you wondered what he was doing here, 'aren't you supposed to be in morning practice right now?' he smiles, 'yeah! but i wanted to introduce someone to you first!' he moves to the side and reveals a boy. it turns out the boy is named akaashi, a first year member of the volleyball club. he was a setter and bokuto was overly excited, complimenting him nonstop about his skills and how he makes a great addition to the team. akaashi was flattered, almost bashful, and you were amused seeing bokuto so fond of the younger boy.
easy to say, the introduction of akaashi also meant that your duo became a trio. much to bokuto's delight, you and akaashi got along so well. despite him being a year lower than you, you interacted with him comfortably. often, you would wait for the two boys to finish practice so the three of you can go home together. in between walks home, you would stop by cafes to try new food and drinks.
and being the observant person that he is, akaashi saw through the feelings that you and bokuto shared and he was puzzled as to why the both of you weren't still a couple. there were boys in his class who were asking him about you, if he can introduce them to you. but he would always politely turn them down, respecting the closeness of your relationship with bokuto.
there was a day when you had to skip on going home with them. you messaged them saying you had to stay back for student council duties. and as much bokuto and akaashi would have liked to wait for you, they had game tomorrow and had to rest to be in good condition so they went head. the walk was silent and akaashi was wondering if bokuto was on one of his moods. however, his worries were quickly dispelled when the older boy turned to him and asked, 'do you like y/n?' it surprised him but at the same time, akaashi found it amusing.
'no, bokuto-san. i believe y/n already has her eye on someone else.' he gave bokuto a knowing and encouraging look. 'you should try confessing to her. it wouldn't hurt letting her know about your feelings,' akaashi advised.
when bokuto settled in his home, he mulled over what akaashi told him. he wasn't that oblivious to recognize the many boys who were looking at you and wanting to make a move. it always crushed his heart whenever he thought he could lose you and your friendship once you entered a relationship. he knew he had to make his move, but he also knew how you were getting busy lately with student council. he didn't want to add to your stress, and to be honest, he was at the point of his volleyball career where he had to focus all his time on the sport. entering a relationship now when you were both busy would be futile. so in the meantime, he thought he'd wait for the right time and pushed back any plans to confess.
finally, you and bokuto were on your last year in high school. he made a promise to himself that he would properly ask you out before graduation. and it was like the gods of matchmaking and love were on his side as the two of you were finally on the same class!
he was thrilled, running up to you to hug you on the first day of school. he thought about the many opportunities he had to finally ask you the question. however, as seniors, there was the looming responsibilities of college entrance exams and last volleyball matches that kept you two busy.
often bokuto would whine to you in class, 'y/n!!!!!!!! why do i not see you anymore? this is torture.' you would always laugh at his dramatic ass, and to your classmates it was a sight to see the ace looking for your attention. yet much as you wanted to spend time with him, you had papers to help file for the council and exams to prepare for. but as his best friend, you would often make it up to him, going to his games to support him and giving him notes that he needed for the classes he missed. you were even helping him study for his own college exams on weekends.
your parents were getting concerned, worried that you were spending too much time outside on weekends instead of resting home. one time, before you left, your mom stopped you, 'why are you doing all this for bokuto? he's perfectly capable on his own, you know.' you stopped, remembering all the times bokuto would run to you for help on a subject, the times when he would call you to ask about a question. you liked how he depended on you, and deep inside you knew that a part of you depended on him too. you knew that if he decided to stop talking to you, he would be taking a piece of you with him.
you didn't get to answer your mother, only smiled at her as you left home for bokuto. but ideas were already swimming in your mind. you wanted to be with him for as long as god would allow you. if bokuto hadn't realized your feelings for him yet, you were going to take matters into your own hands.
which was how you found yourself on the school rooftop on the day of his birthday. today, you were going to confess. you spent weeks planning the event, even asking akaashi for help. you needed the younger boy to ask the coach to excuse bokuto in training and luckily, the coach agreed.
bokuto was confused as to why he was being excused, but only got an instruction from akaashi to go to the rooftop. so with hesitant steps, he went upstairs. when he got to the top floor, bokuto knocked on the door before opening it, revealing a surprised you as laid out the drinks and homemade food on the picnic blanket.
'what is going on here?' he arrived too soon for your liking and you were flustered. you hadn't finished setting up the plates yet, haven't even set up the music on your phone. but bokuto stepped forward, 'is this...'
you jumped up, extending your arms around your head and shouted, 'happy birthday, bokuto!' he stood still for a minute, digesting what was happening then he was walking towards you and scooping you up on your feet in an embrace.
the two of you laughed as he twirled you around, 'bokuto! stop, i'm gonna get dizzy!' when he put you down, he looked at you affectionately, 'thank you so much for this! you are the best!' and without missing a beat, you said, 'i love you, bokuto.'
you saw as his eyes grew wide, stepping a few feet away from you and you dreaded that he was going to reject you. he was walking in circles now and you were getting anxious for the lack of reply. so you went to him, grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him in tracks. 'did you hear what i said?'
he nodded, but still kept silent. you continued, 'well, are you just going to ignore that?' you were unfair, bokuto thought. he pouted and looked down to avoid your gaze, 'but i wanted to be the one to say it first.' now it was your turn to be shocked, and before you knew it you were moving closer to give him his gift.
your hands on his cheeks and the touch of your lips on his caught bokuto by surprise. it took him a while to register it but here you were, the love of his life, kissing him. seconds passed and he was kissing you back, he put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. he moved one hand to caress your cheek lovingly.
when he pulled away, he gave you a peck on the forehead. smirking, he declared, 'be my girlfriend?'
you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose, 'i have been waiting for you to say that.' this time he blushed, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and he thought about what did he do to deserve you.
'this is the best birthday ever.'
325 notes · View notes
straydawg-writing · 4 years ago
Text
𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦.
- 𝓚. 𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙮𝙘𝙠
• hunter x hunter series
Tumblr media
⋯✰⋯
Chapter 3—
"Don't they have anything at least a LITTLE flattering? I get they're like hippie-extremists, but not all of us want to look like a sack of potatoes," you complained, swiping through their clothing racks that screamed no-potential-whatsoever.
You'd finally arrived at NGL headquarters, only for them to make the three of you throw out your phones and clothes. It's like they were still living in the 18th century.
"It's only clothes. Just pick whatever," Killua replied while browsing through the selection, though he looked equally as aggravated and bored. He did have at least some style that he wanted to upkeep.
Gon on the other hand didn't seem to care.
"You think they have anything green?" He wondered out loud.
You pulled out a set of white pants with a blue long sleeves top.
"Hey Killua."
"Yeah?"
You shoved the set into his arms, giving him a bright smile.
"Try this on, I think it would match your eyes well."
"Idiot. The Chimera Ants won't be looking at my eyes when we're fighting them." Pink dusted his cheeks as he looked to the side, avoiding eye contact.
He bought the outfit without even trying it on.
Gon pouted. "Wait, what about me?"
You pulled out two more similar sets. One was a pair of green pants and a white tank top, while the other was burgundy pants with a black top. That one was yours.
"We can all match!" You grinned, relieved you finally found something that wouldn't make you all look like homeless children. "Well, sort of." The sets were still different colors, but they retained the same general style.
"Oh, great idea Y/N! I'll go change into it now," Gon beamed, nearly skipping all the way to the changing room with his brand new green pants. It was about time he put on something different for a change, you inwardly joked.
Killua was already walking back from the stalls when Gon ran past him.
"Wow Killua, look at that drip~" You whistled, checking out his new outfit.
"You're so hopeless," he sighed, bonking the top of your head.
You rubbed where he had hit and stuck out your tongue, pretending to be hurt. It was the truth though, he looked really good in the outfit you had picked out. Peeking at him while he wasn't looking, you discovered that the tight-skinned long sleeves accentuated his arms in a way you'd never noticed before, hugging his lean muscles. You were right about the royal-colored shirt bringing out his pretty blue eyes. And the way his pale skin and white hair contrasted them even looked a little heavenly...
God, what were you thinking? If Killua heard you right now he'd hit you over the head another 20 times over. You looked to the floor, hoping he wouldn't see your growing blush.
After all three of you had changed into your new clothes, the hunt for the Chimera Ants began. Kite was on his own horse, while the rest of you fit on the second one due to your small frames. You were holding onto Gon's torso as he took control of the reins.
He was like a natural, his whole body moving in sync with the horse in strong determination. You trusted him, knowing that wouldn't just let you topple over. You weren't really used to horses, as they weren't typically found roaming around the jungle.
Then there was Killua, who was standing stick-straight on the horse like it was nothing.
"How do you even do that?!" You called out over the sound of galloping hooves.
"Huh, Do what? You mean this?" Killua smirked, doing a handstand.
You couldn't believe him. The boy had no fear at all.
"You're crazy," you stated, turning around to face Killua and leisurely leaning your back against Gon.
You had finally mastered balancing on the horse without having to hold onto him— but you had nowhere as near the skill Killua did.
"Maybe I am, but you love it," he teased, still upside-down. Temptingly enough, his white locks of hair were hanging upside-down too.
Slowly, you leaned forward on the palm of your hands, steadily closing in the distance between you two.
"Sure, I do. You got me there," you cooed, catching him off guard.
"Huh.." He sweatdropped, turning bright red. Killua's balance was starting to wobble.
Then, exploiting his moment of weakness, you tugged on his hair knocking him over.
Satisfied, you rested against Gon again. Thankfully the boy didn't seem to mind.
"Show off," You said, sticking your nose in the air.
"Man, that was so unfair!" Killua whined, sitting back down on the horse and dragging his hands down his face.
You crossed your arms, ready to deliver some witty comeback, when you noticed some bees in the distance that looked like they were carrying something. Squinting your eyes, you saw that they were flying in closer.
"Hey guys, look at that," you pointed out. The horses stopped as one of the bees dropped the paper in Kite's hand.
Help!!
Chimera Ant Nest, Rocky Area
Notify Hunter Association!!
An SOS? And it appeared to be written in blood.
You cast a worried glance at Gon, who looked disturbed.
"It's Ponzu..."
Ponzu...? The name wasn't familiar to you at all. That must be somebody Killua and Gon knew from before you had met them.
The bee fluttered defeatedly around you before making its landing on your ring finger. Kite made the decision to leave the horses, with a message for the Hunter Association.
Even though they ran faster on foot, it didn't take much time until you came across an unsettling scene.
Or, what was left of Ponzu.
Blood soaked the ground. Articles of ripped-up clothing scattered the dirt, and there was not even a bone in sight. The putrid smell of iron overwhelmed your nostrils.
It was fresh blood.
If you had arrived even 15 minutes earlier, maybe Gon and Killua's friend would not have so barbarically killed. You felt sick to your stomach.
'This wasn't done by a human'
"This was done by a Chimera Ant," Kite finished your thought.
The look on Gon's face scared you. Most of the time, Gon was a sweet boy on a journey to find his father. But sometimes, you could spot a festering darkness threatening to take over his very being. You knew he would never tolerate his friends getting hurt, but you couldn't help but wonder if Gon was self-sacrificing, or perhaps selfish?
"I hate to consider the possibility, but it's possible that NGL's underground rulers have already been fed to the queen. What will happen if Chimera Ants are born with their genes..?" Kite trailed off, studying one of the bullet casings in the murder scene.
An unprecedented biohazard never seen before in human history, is what that meant. The worst-case scenario had just happened.
⋯✰⋯
That wasn't the last disturbing scene the four of you came across. In front of you now were three decaying horses, each speared through the stomach by its own tree. They resembled grilled chicken and steak kebabs.
The scent was even worse than the last incident. This time, they were rotting. Killua and you both covered your noses, in an attempt to block out the stench.
"It's like a morning sacrifice," Gon stated.
You remembered what that was. Back at home, sometimes birds would impale their prey on sharp objects like branches. It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was the circle of life. What kind of monster could do this to not just one, but three 1,000 ton horses?
Your question was answered quicker than you had hoped.
"Trash. Those are mine!" The monster in question growled as he stepped foot out of the dense forest.
He looked like an overgrown bunny, with wings of a bird, thick-ass thighs, and seaweed green hair. And as for the vibe he gave off? You could safely assume he was just a stupid man-child.
"Wow. You're ugly," you deadpanned.
"You wanna say that again little brat?" He snarled, making the first move and charging right after you.
You quickly dodged his attack, but not before he came in contact with your arm. That was gonna leave a bruise.
Kite activated his aura, temporarily distracting the bunny-monster. It seemed to have noticed the change in atmosphere.
No way...was it possible? Had it already learned about the power of nen?
"Y/N, Gon, Killua... You three must deal with him yourselves. We'll be encountering more Chimera Ant soldiers like him. I won't be able to help you during combat, so if you can't defeat him, you will have to leave." Kite stepped back from the fight.
You nodded, Gon and Killua mirroring you. The three of you understood what hung in the fate of this fight.
"We told you before Kite, we're pros, not just kids!"
In sync, you all activated your nen together.
"Did you hear that bunny? I'm about to blow off those weird speedos of yours into the next dimension." You raised your hand in front of you, manipulating the wind to blow him away with every step that you advanced.
Killua was already in the air, prepared to test his thunder-bolt. In a flash of blue, dozens of lightning strikes were being zapped into the ant, immobilizing him. Gon's charged punch was enough to send him flying across the sky.
You saw his tail-puff shrink and sparkle in the distance as he was about to disappear, until something fast and unidentifiable swept him away.
Someone had been watching.
"He let his soldier do the fighting so that he could learn our abilities," Kite explained while walking towards the three of you again.
Gon and Killua looked disappointed. You hadn't even gotten a chance to use much of your powers during that fight. If you had finished it off, would that have been enough to prove yourselves?
"Are you coming?"
You looked up at Kite.
"There's no need to feel down, your attacks weren't that bad. You just need experience now. If you wish to become stronger, this is a perfect opportunity... But if you aren't prepared, you won't be able to endure it. Whether we win or lose, hell lies ahead of us." Kite finished off, looking at each one of you in the eye with a resolute stare.
You knew that. Gon and Killua knew that also.
Even so, all three of you were prepared and eager to do whatever it takes to strengthen yourselves and help Kite save NGL.
⋯✰⋯
Kite looked serene as the light of the small campfire lit up his features. He and Gon had caught some fish for dinner earlier, while Killua and you set up camp. Now, you sat brushing arms with Killua, who was sitting next to Gon, who was huddled up close to Kite. The night was quiet, except for the cicadas singing in the trees and the thoughts running through you and your friend's minds.
There was a lot to think about.
Gon and Killua hadn't even been given the time to grieve over the loss of their past acquaintance, before being hit with the hard-hitting truth that the Ants were already evolving at a nightmarish rate. Nobody knew how many had gone missing or even more so been eaten. Yet everyone knew that the death count had already surpassed comprehensible numbers. Most likely, not everybody here would make it out alive.
But, the three of you consistently have proven the odds wrong. You held onto that fact like you held onto your pendant.
It reassured you.
It was obvious that the three of you had become inseparable over the past two years.
After you met Gon and Killua at Heaven's Arena, you'd never left each other's side.
Nobody would be going home without the other, because you had all found home within each other.
"Hey, Kite? What was your dad like?" Gon asked.
Kite looked up at the boy, surprised by the sudden question. Turning his eyes to the starry night sky, he exhaled a breath of cold air.
"I didn't know him. He disappeared when I was a child."
Gon hummed, waiting for Kite to continue. He knew that feeling too. It was an icy and empty feeling, not having a father figure in your life to guide you, praise you.
"I have very few memories of him, but they've all muddled together by now. Sometimes I can't tell if they're real or if I've convinced myself they are."
"....I think Ging would thank you."
This brought Kite's attention back to Gon.
"Thank me for what?"
"Well... You've been like a sort of mentor for me ever since we met, back on Whale Island. If it weren't for you, I would never have even become a hunter. Maybe I'm just a kid, but the past month it felt like I.. like I had a dad."
Your heart ached for Gon, who had been searching this whole time for his father in everyone he met and everything he saw. Gently, you placed your hand over his and squeezed it, wishing you could be of more comfort to him. Wishing you could turn back time and bring Ging back to his home, to Gon.
Kite's eyes softened as he looked at the boy, who offered a wobbly smile.
"Ging would be proud of you," he said, ruffling Gon's spiky hair.
That night, the glimmering moonlight had brought out your most vulnerable selves. You felt a honey-like warmth grow inside of you— a new member had just been added to your family. Killua seemed content, happy that his friend was smiling. And Gon's eyes matched the twinkling stars as he looked up to Kite like he was the most wonderful thing.
It was a special night. You knew deep down that you would treasure it, for a long time to come.
⋯✰⋯
71 notes · View notes
candyflossclouds · 4 years ago
Note
Owo requests? Then could I get a headcanon with at least Ray and Zero with a mc that's a great artist and they find drawings of themselves? This may or may not be shameless self insert òwó Idk if this has been already made ;;w;; if it has then sorry
Here you go! Kinda made this Christmas themed because I was writing this near Christmas...Also, may or may not have added in Sirius for @lovingsiriusoswald LMAO
I hope you like this! 🎉
Ray, Zero and Sirius finding drawings of themselves drawn by S/O
Ray Blackwell
As you briskly walked past him in the corridor, he was just about to call out your name when a slip of paper fell from the bundle of papers in your hands.
“Hey, you dropped something!” Whipping your head around to the sound of his voice, your eyes widened as he picked up the piece of paper and flipped it around.
“Wait, Ray I-” His eyes widened. Oh! It was a drawing. It was...a drawing of him. And it was absolutely beautiful. You weren’t sure which drawing did you drop, but judging from his reaction, it might be the portrait of him. You started to shuffle through the stack of papers in your hands to look for the portrait.
“Aww, you have a crush on me?” You looked up. That confirms your suspicions. A smile made its way onto your face even as you rolled your eyes at him. Cheeky little bastard. “Ray, we’re dating.” You held out your hand, gesturing to the paper he held in his hands. He chuckled. “A kiss in exchange for your drawing back.”
You planted a kiss on his lips softly, a hand reaching out to snatch the drawing back, but what you did not expect was him to cage you in with his arms. He grinned at you mischievously, but his gaze on you was full of love. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your cheek slowly with his thumb. “You’re amazing, do you know that? The drawing looks incredible.”
Smiling softly, he kissed you once more before letting you go. “I’ll see you later.” He winked.
Seeing that he made you blush, he can’t help but smile like a fool in love as he made his way to his office. Well, he is head over heels for you, so... that isn’t wrong. The mere thought of spending tonight with you made him put in twice the effort into working, even though he hates paperwork. He can’t help it. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the Black Army, but spending Christmas Eve with you is different, in a good way. It’s the way you smile at him as you cozy up to him, the way your eyes twinkle when you receive presents...Oh, no, he’s getting off track. He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts of you. He smiled. It never really works, does it? But he doesn’t mind that, not even one bit.
Zero
Zero knocked on your door again. You told him to meet you at 11 pm tonight, in your room, but there was no response from the other side of the door. It was Christmas Eve after all, and you wanted to spend some time with Zero. He frowned slightly, debating whether should he let himself into your room. Thinking that you might’ve fallen asleep, the first thought on his mind was to let you rest, but he knew how disappointed you would get if you found out that you’ve missed spending time with him in the morning.
He opened the door. To his surprise, you were nowhere to be seen. A book was left open on your bed. Stepping closer to your bed, the drawings on your book, which he now recognized as your sketchbook, seemed oddly familiar...they look like...him!
A blush spread across his cheeks when he realized that these were all portraits of him. “Zero?” A familiar voice called out from behind him.
He jumped in surprise. Turning his head towards the doorway, which you now stood at, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to peek…”
Confused at why he’s so flustered, you set down the mugs and looked at which page you’ve left your sketchbook open at. Oh no! It was the portraits of him. Feeling your face heating up, you averted your gaze from his face. “You...you don’t mind? That I’ve been drawing you…?”
“No, no...of course not...I’m, honoured to be your muse…” He thinks that your drawings are beautiful, and he would happily be your muse any day, he’s just really flattered at the moment. You kissed him on the cheek and handed him a mug of hot chocolate.
The two of you ended up cuddling on your bed, covered with a fluffy blanket, just talking about anything that came to mind, waiting until the clock strikes twelve to exchange your presents for each other. In this moment, Zero thinks that life can’t get more perfect than this, having the person he loves in his arms safe and sound, and he feels so relaxed. So happy. So...loved.
Sirius Oswald
Lately, he’s been seeing you with your sketchbook in hand, sitting outside of the Black Army headquarters, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your pencil moves across the paper, but every time he approached you, you would shoo him away. While it’s undeniable that he’s slightly curious about what you’re drawing, however, he will never push you until you’re ready to show him.
On Christmas Eve, he found a neatly wrapped gift on his bed, after returning from his duties from the kitchen. He recognized your handwriting immediately, on the card that was tucked gracefully underneath the ribbon of the gift. It read, “Merry Christmas, Sirius.”. Smiling fondly, he removed the card from the gift, fingers lightly ghosting over your letters before turning it over to find your signature on the back of the card.
He let his gaze linger on your signature for a while, savouring the way you sign your name, before delicately pulling off the ribbon to unwrap the gift. It was...a book? He wondered why you gave him a notebook. Flipping it open, he’s surprised to find a portrait of him staring back at him, with a short message below the drawing, explaining that it was a collection of flowers you have seen throughout Cradle, and you hope that this will be a good use to him especially when it comes to cataloguing flowers. Sirius adores the portrait of him, he’s really impressed with how pretty the drawing is. He’s known for some time that you can draw really well, but you never fail to amaze him every single time.
Flipping through the book, he’s realised that you’ve provided ample space beside every drawing for him to write down his notes. Each and every drawing was absolutely gorgeous, detailed and he loved that you even provided an index!
He took a look at the clock. It was almost midnight. The Queen of Spades got up from where he sat, picked up his present for you before he walked over to your room. When you answered the door, you were greeted with an embrace, with a kiss planted on top of your head. Mumbling his thanks, he rests his chin on your head, before presenting you with your Christmas present. As you smile happily up at him, Sirius is certain that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. You’re thoughtful, caring, and you make him feel so loved. Sometimes, he felt like he didn’t deserve you. But you chose him. You chose him, over and over again, without hesitation. He’ll do his best. If you’re certain you want him, he’ll do everything that he can to make you happy.
98 notes · View notes
jaybear1701 · 3 years ago
Link
Pam can only stare wide-eyed at Ellen, wondering if she’s in a dream.
There’s no moon dust or space suits or a vast expanse of stars. And yet, somehow, Ellen standing in her classroom--nervous and expectant and achingly beautiful in gray slacks and a simple white blouse--feels even more surreal. She can’t bring herself to speak, afraid that if she makes an attempt, Ellen will vanish and Pam will once again wake up alone in the darkness of her bedroom.
“I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue like this,” Ellen breaks the silence. “But I was hoping we could talk?”
Pam’s lips part, but for someone who prides herself on her ability to capture the right words and construct them into the perfect turn of phrase, she’s still speechless. Each resounding thud against her ribs pumps out conflicting emotions into her buzzing bloodstream, surprise and confusion, elation and dread.
“Pam?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Somehow, Pam strings together a coherent sentence, her voice scratchy and low.
Ellen’s shoulders droop. “You know that’s not true.” She takes a tentative step closer, treating Pam like some skittish animal ready to bolt, which honestly isn’t too far from the truth. “Please, just five minutes.”
“I don’t really have time--”
“Five minutes,” Ellen repeats, firmer. “Hear me out, and then you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want to.”
Self-preservation demands that Pam refuses. In the long run, it’d be better for them both to sever ties, clean and fast, without dragging things out. But she can’t, not with the way Ellen’s imploring her with those disarming brown eyes. Her heart won’t let her.
“Fine,” Pam acquiesces. “Five minutes. But not here.”
“Okay,” Ellen exhales in relief.
Unsteadily, Pam pushes up from her desk to stand, grabbing her messenger bag and slinging its strap over her shoulder. She exits the classroom with Ellen in tow, and heads toward her office.
A million questions swirl in Pam’s head. Why are you here? How did you even know where to find me? But she bites her tongue. The hallways of the community college aren’t the place to air things out. Ellen follows her wordlessly, maintaining a respectful distance as she glances furtively at Pam out of the corner of her eye. They’re halfway to her office when someone calls out for Pam.
“Ms. H!”
One of her first-year students, Valerie, rushes to catch up to them with a fistful of papers in hand. “I forgot to give you a draft of my manuscript before the final.” She comes to an abrupt stop when she notices Pam has company, eyes widening. “Holy shit, you’re Ellen Wilson!”
Ellen’s brows shoot up, still surprised when someone recognizes her despite more than a decade in the public eye. “Oh, yes, that’s me.” She offers a hand that Valerie shakes with great enthusiasm “Hi, um....”
“Valerie. But everyone calls me Val.”
“Nice to meet you, Val.”
“Wow.” Val runs a hand through the unshaved side of her red hair. “You know an astronaut?” She asks Pam incredulously. “How on earth do you know an astronaut?!”
“Long story,” Pam replies with a taut smile.
“I’ll bet.” Val says, starstruck. “I saw you on TV when I was a kid, catching that tank. You’re amazing!”
Smiling sheepishly, Ellen ducks her head. “Thank you. Feels like it was a lifetime ago now.”
“I’ll bet. And, hey, sorry to hear you left NASA.”
Pam’s stomach bottoms out as her head snaps toward Ellen. “You what?” She shakes her head, unsure she heard correctly.
Ellen’s eyes slide to Pam briefly before focusing back on Valerie. “It was the right time.”
Val shrugs. “Gotta know when to fold ‘em. Do you know what you’ll do now?”
“Oh, you know, just take it easy while I weigh some options.” Ellen shifts her weight from one foot to another, nonchalant, like it’s no big deal. Like she didn’t just walk away from a hard-earned career and upward mobility.
Pam’s head swims at the revelation, knees wobbly, but manages to change the subject. “You said you have your manuscript, Valerie?”
“Oh, yeah.” Val hands over her papers. “Thanks again for taking a look.”
“No problem.” Pam slides the manuscript into her bag, hoping the tremor in her hands isn’t too obvious.
“What’s it about?” Ellen asks politely.
“Oh,” Val grins, flattered, tucking her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket. “Just my humble contribution to the cyberpunk genre. You ever watch Blade Runner?”
“I did! It was, uh, interesting.”
“Yeah! Well, it’s similar to that. Though I’m guessing you’re more into Ms. H’s sci-fi.”
“You write science fiction?” Ellen asks Pam, curious.
“Ms. H, you should tell her about your story about the astronauts exploring Mars.”
Ellen’s eyebrows rise slowly, and Pam coughs to hide the blush she already knows is heating her cheeks. “Some other time, maybe,” Pam says. “I’ll touch base with you after the holidays?”
“That’d be great.” Valerie grins. “Thanks again, Ms. H. And nice meeting you, Mrs. Wilson. Er, Commander.”
“Just Ellen will do,” Ellen chuckles, waving goodbye to the retreating student. “So,” Ellen says as they resume walking. “You’re writing about Martian explorers?”
“You’ve got five minutes. Do you really want to spend it talking about my work?” Pam retorts, face still flushed, when they finally reach her office.
Ellen doesn’t respond as Pam unlocks the door, turns on the light, and leads them inside. “Have a seat.” She maneuvers behind her desk and sits, already feeling more at ease in her own space, like she can recapture a modicum of control over her warring emotions. In red, glowing numbers, the answering machine by her phone shows she has about half a dozen messages waiting.
If Ellen’s nervous or uncomfortable on Pam’s turf, she doesn’t show it while she drinks in the small office, taking in the framed diplomas on the walls, crammed bookshelves, and stacks of paper on her desk. She lowers herself into the chair across from Pam.
“I’m not really sure where to start.” Ellen folds her hands in her lap, gaze determined and unwavering. “So I’ll start by saying this: I’m not here to upset you, though I can tell by the look on your face I already have. But, please believe me when I say that’s the last thing I ever want. Okay?”
“Okay.” Pam can already feel her pulse starting to accelerate.
Ellen takes a deep breath. “I wanted… I needed to see you. To understand why you left.”
Pam’s chest instantly clenches in response. There was a reason she hadn’t wanted to see Ellen, who could read her so well she’d know instantly that Pam was lying. “I explained it in my letter.” Schooling her expression, she sticks with the same narrative.
“You said your heart still belongs to Elise.”
Pam inclines her head forward. That is what she wrote, after all.
“Then why aren’t you with her.” It’s not a question.
It feels like all the air has rushed out of the room, and Pam thinks this is the closest she’ll ever come to experiencing life in a vacuum. It’s so quiet that she can hear the scuff of sneakers on the floor outside her office door.
Ellen scoots forward in her seat, words coming faster now. “I called your house, trying to reach you.”
“You what?”
“Elise picked up instead.”
Pam’s stomach twists.
“She said you weren’t together,” Ellen continues. "That you moved out weeks ago.”
Anger lances through Pam, white and hot. “Ellen, you had no right.” Her voice is strained from keeping her temper under control.
“Maybe so,” Ellen concedes, but she doesn’t look repentant at all. “But you also said we owe each other the truth. So what is it?”
“Your five minutes are up.” Pam knows she’s being irrational, but she doesn’t care. Clinging to her outrage is preferable to succumbing to her spiraling panic at being called out on her lie.
Ellen lets out an incredulous laugh. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Pam confirms, crossing her arms as if that would shield her from the growing tumult between them. “Please leave.”
Ellen just stares at her, unblinking, before she shakes her head. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I told you once before that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep you. And I’m not leaving until I get the truth.”
Ellen’s eyes are dark, earnest. Pam hates that she’s not immune to them and, if she’s honest with herself, never will be. Her traitorous heart’s already melting, but Pam’s nothing if not stubborn and she sets her mouth in a thin, hard line. “Then I’ll go.”
She gets up to leave, not even bothering to grab her bag, but Ellen rushes to her feet and blocks her path--not unlike the time at The Outpost years ago, after Pam had given her ultimatum about Ellen’s marriage to Larry.
They’re close, too close that it makes Pam dizzy, and she has to take a step back. Ellen reaches out to Pam, but stops before she can make contact. Her right hand hovers in the air for several long seconds before it drops back to her side.
“Please don’t be angry,” Ellen pleads.
“A little too late for that.”
“I know.” Ellen’s brow furrows, but still she doesn’t move.
“Then please go,” Pam says in a pained whisper. “Or let me go.”
“I can’t.” The crack in Ellen’s voice splits straight down Pam’s heart. “I love you, Pam. Always have. Always will.”
Pam squeezes her eyes shut. The room feels like it’s tilting on its axis.
“If you don’t feel the same, then…”Ellen’s throat constricts as she swallows. . “Then that’s fine. I’ll learn to live with that. But I just need to know. Please.”
When she opens them, Pam’s eyes are full, stinging. “You know I do.”
“Then why…”
“Because sometimes it’s not enough!”
Confusion etches across Ellen’s features, wrinkling her forehead and tugging the corners of her lips down. “Enough for what?”
“For us to work, Ellen.” Pam wipes away a tear that’s trickled down her cheek. “We live in completely different worlds.”
Ellen’s next response is drowned out by the telephone, its shrill ring cutting through the air. For a moment, Pam’s paralyzed, unable to move beneath Ellen’s piercing gaze, both of them breathing heavily. By the fourth ring, Pam snaps out of it. She walks back behind the desk, inhales, exhales, and picks up the receiver.
“Pam Horton.”
It’s the dean’s secretary, asking her to drop by the office before she leaves for the day. Pam normally dreads having to meet with the dean, never quite enjoying the administrative aspects of her job, but right now she’s relieved to have an excuse to end this conversation with Ellen before she does or says anything more that she’ll regret.
“Yes, ma’am, of course,” Pam says as Ellen’s eyes track her movements. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
After she hangs up the phone, she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work.”
Ellen looks like she wants to object, but ultimately she retreats back a step. She doesn’t sit back down. Pam’s not sure if she feels relieved or disappointed.
“I understand.” She self-consciously tucks her hair behind her ears. “Can we at least talk later?”
Pam’s mind shouts no. Her heart screams yes. Her mouth lands somewhere in between. “I don’t know,” she says lamely. “We’re wrapping up finals… you know how it goes.”
Ellen’s looking at her like this might be the last opportunity she’ll have to do so. “Well, if you find yourself with some free time, I’m staying at the Driskill ‘til the end of the week.”
The Driskill is the oldest hotel in Austin, right in the heart of downtown. Iconic. Historic. Perfectly suited for someone of Ellen’s background and stature. And much too rich for Pam’s blood. It’s so fitting that Pam doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry.
“We’ll see,” she says.
Ellen nods slowly before turning toward the door. But her hand stills on the knob, and Pam finds herself holding her breath.
“Maybe we do live in different worlds.” Ellen smiles sadly over her shoulder. “But we could create a new one. Together.”
With that, she’s gone. The door softly clicks shut. And it takes all of Pam’s willpower not to follow.
23 notes · View notes
ingek73 · 4 years ago
Text
Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...
Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.
Mic Wright
May 6
Tumblr media
On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.
Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.
The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:
MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’
MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims
SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author
DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her
NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’
'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert
CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones
You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.
Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.
Tumblr media
Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome
DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES
@BreeNewsome
Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.
May 5th 2021
1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”
-
Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:
… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.
Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.
Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.
When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.
Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:
If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.
It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.
At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:
But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.
Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.
The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.
Tumblr media
Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach
Maria Roach
@MariaLRoach
Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America
May 5th 2021
122 Retweets1,619 Likes”
-
Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.
Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.
There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:
The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…
… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.
It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:
Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'
If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?
Tumblr media
15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda
Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.
Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…
It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.
… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.
Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.
Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.
Tumblr media
Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO
talkRADIO
@talkRADIO
Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.
Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?
@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image
May 5th 2021
36 Retweets221 Likes”
-
Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:
It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?
Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”
I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.
Tumblr media
Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba
Nadim Baba
@NadimJBaba
Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......
Media Guardian @mediaguardian
Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz
May 5th 2021
1 Like”
-
There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.
There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.
24 notes · View notes
jalaluvsu · 4 years ago
Text
Interference
https://beautiful-disasters-sunshine.tumblr.com/post/631749044177403904/what-if-marinette-was-tims-little-sister-who-was
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Y’know, just ‘cause Kori’s got a baby coming doesn’t mean you can boss us around Robin,” Beastboy whined as he stepped out of the Zeta Tube.
He scoffed at the notion, “That’s literally exactly what I can and will do, you absolute buffoon.”
“Oh, shutup.”
He sighed. There isn’t ever a moment where Garfield doesn’t wish Starfire still led the Titans. The past three weeks have gone by at an agonizingly slow pace, filled with never ending fights between him and Damian. And! Before you get the wrong impression, no, he did not start these fights. In fact, he was practically the one getting attacked!
Really, what’d you expect him to do when Damian insulted tofu during dinner at the Waynes’? Smile and wave?
Laughable.
Garfield will tell you what happened after, whether he’s proud is a matter of who asks. Let’s just say Alfred’s put him on a month-long ban from the dining room at the manor; worth it, nonetheless.
“Beastboy, earth to Beastboy,” He heard Raven chant over comms. Oh, right, the mission.
“Reporting for duty!” he saluted obediently, like the responsible hero he is.  
“Stop standing there and you know, actually read the coordinates I sent to your navigator,” he grinned at her snark as he pulled out his compact. A hefty amount of unchecked notifications was in its wake.
Automated message coupons from the local pizza place at Jump City (hell yeah!)
Missed calls from Terra, he faltered at the offending contact; as if he would respond. The time for that has passed, long passed.
He scrolled down the small screen as he flitted his gaze past the hundreds of junk mail. Ah, and lastly, one lengthy preview of information regarding the mission. The text listed an address along with...enrollment details? Huh.
Garfield glanced both ways before crossing the busy street; him previously being in the too-bright alleyway. 
Okay, see, he knows what you’re thinking. Someone like him- or rather someone who looked like him, would stick out like a sore thumb. Especially in a place like Paris. How common were metahumans here? Probably not as high as the rate in Metropolis, that’s for sure.
There were only so many green colored people, and a good ninety-nine percent was or is associated with heroes (vigilantes, fine) or even aliens. That being said, he was keeping it on the down-low. In Paris, he wasn’t the cool, collected, and most desired by all Garfield Logan. In Paris, he was just Grant Roth. What? It’s a good cover! And he was planning on taking Raven’s surname eventually anyways. (wink wink, nudge nudge)
A few spells and enchantments via Magical Goth Gf ™ prior to his ride in the tubes later; he practically looked uncanny to his appearance before the whole ‘failed experiment injection’ thing. You know, a mop of auburn hair, pale as paper skin, and cutesy little freckles (Blue Beetle’s words, not his) (Okay, maybe it was his too..)
Garfield pulled out his pocketed compact once he safely made it across the street. Now that he gave more than a glance at the address it looked...short. In fact, it was vague, extremely vague. He discreetly looked around for any eavesdroppers and lowered his voice to a whisper as he walked down the 21st arrondissement.
“Uh, guys? Where exactly am I supposed to go?”
He hated not knowing how to do something he was expected to, incredibly so.
“I was hoping you’d dispose of your body there,” he paused, "but since you asked so nicely, we’ll tell you.” Robin chimed in matter-of-factly.
Garfield could practically feel the next set of words. He didn’t know what they were, but they were going to suck. He just knew it.
Raven took a long swig of coffee before announcing the dreaded news, “We’ve signed you up for a foreign exchange student program,” 
Ah,
“You what?!” he shrieked. A couple of onlookers gave him dirty glances, he smiled sheepishly.
Blue Beetle toggled his audio, “C’mon Gar-“ Robin interrupted,
“No names on field!”
 “Shutuuuuup,” he drawled out.
“Anyways, Beastboy,’’ cue pointed glare at Robin,’’ did you really think we’d let you roam around without a leash for what? Three months? In a foreign country of all places?” Garfield could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the fucker.
“I was hoping, yeah!” Damn. He thought he would get away with them actually trusting him here alone, wishful thinking on his part.
He pouted at the idea as he scouted for a place to lounge in.
Raven huffed, “You’ll be living with a host family during your stay at Paris, if it wasn’t clear enough already.”
He froze; what other surprises were up their sleeves?!
“C’mon, be real for a sec. I’m a superhero, I don’t need to go to public school, I don’t need a couple of strangers!” he stressed as he weaved between crowds of Parisians.
Ooh, a bench. He sat with the intent of winning this argument, no matter the consequence. So what if he looked crazy, supposedly talking to himself? Priorities people, priorities.
“Doom Patrol’s strict orders, you know, ‘cause they can’t homeschool you a whole continent away,” Jamie deadpanned.
Garfield dragged a hand down his face. Stupid Doom Patrol, stupid worrying for his wellbeing. “But- it’s a mission!” he gestured rapidly, in clear exasperation.
Jaime tsked, “And? Gotta keep that brain of yours in tip-top shape, amigo!”
“Whatever, man;” he got up to dust himself off, “still don’t know how that’s related to the address on the Seine but- “
“They live there, your host family,” Raven supplied.
Garfield scratched his chin in wonder. Who lives in a body of water? That’s so- Wait. His friends were totally holding out on him!
“You guys didn’t tell me I’d be staying with Aquaman! That makes this ten times better!”
What were the chances that the man himself was in Paris too? They can bond over sea creatures, and Garfield could show him his animal transformations! This mission wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t bad at all. He had an extra skip in his step as he pranced down the pavement.
“Are you entirely brain dead?” Robin audibly face palmed,
”No, you’re not- you know what? Yes, you’re going to be living with Aquaman. At a river. In France,” quiet murmurs along the lines of ‘idiot, and ‘cómo adorable,’ sounded out from his remaining teammates.
“This is gonna be so awesome!” Garfield exclaimed giddily.
He spotted a boulangerie-pâtisserie a couple blocks away. Aha! Time to get him some sweet, sweet, treats. And hopefully, some directions.
“Robin spent weeks doing full analysis on the whole family,” Jaime grinned over the comm.
Raven cut in, “Even though it was incredibly self-destructive, “
Analysis? On the King of Atlantis? Boy, no one was safe from Damian’s wrath.
“Awww. You do care, Robin!” he cooed as he entered the bakery.
Robin gasped, affronted, “Don’t flatter yourself! I needed to make sure you wouldn’t feel obligated to blabber all our secrets, obviously.”
“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Garfield shrugged to himself, but quickly zipped his lips shut once someone came into view.
“The Couffaines are...adequate at best;” he quieted, “well, at least from what I could infer before I was so viciously torn away from my research!” was sniffed hotly.
Couffaines? Was that a code name?
“If I didn’t know any better Robin,” Jaime mused, “I’d think you were taking after Tim, especially with how many late nights you’ve had...”
A beat.
Garfield ignored the squabble taking place in his left ear, opting to chat with the kind looking, lady at the register.
“Hello! What can I do for-“ she looked up from tying her apron,
“Oh! You must be new here; I don’t recognize you,”
Garfield offered his hand, “Hah, yeah! I was just walkin’ around town. I’m Grant, by the way,’’ he silently praised himself for remembering his alias.
She shook it firmly, “Sabine.”
A warm smile was sent his way before she gestured to the variety of sweets on display. His mouth watered at the sight and contemplated his choices, no matter how hard it was.  ‘’What would you recommend?’’ he whispered, completely in awe.
Sabine paused to give him a once-over before lighting up. ‘’Well, you don’t strike me as a tart kind of guy so, how do you feel about chocolate?’’
‘’Love it.’’
‘’Great! My husband just put out some fresh Pain Au Chocolates before you came in!’’ Score. His luck hadn’t completely run out.
‘’That sounds fire! I’ll have that,’’ he exclaimed cheerfully.
She blinked at his wording, ‘’Pardon?’’
What? Did she not unders- Oh.‘’Sorry, American slang. It means cool!’’ he rushed out.
She mulled it over, ‘’Ah, okay. Well, coming right up!’’ Sabine opened the glass in search of the Pain Au Chocolates.
“Don’t ever compare me to that insufferable fool, -“
He snickered, “Your brother?”
Robin fumed, “-you complete and utter nincompoop!”
“Now, now, don’t use big boy words on me,” Jaime taunted.
“I’ll show you ‘big boy’ words-! “
Garfield faux scratched his ear in favor of switching off the comm as he watched Sabine bag the treats. He grinned in thanks once handed to him.
“If that’ll be all...?” She trailed off.
He wasn’t really paying any mind as he took a big whiff of the sweets. His thoughts floated over to a haven filled with a never-ending overflow of pastries. Ah, what’s stopping him from staying here forever? A pat on his shoulder, apparently.
“Hm?” Garfield found the petite baker leaning over the counter with a patient smile.
“Sorry, I totally zoned out! Did you say something?” he rubbed his neck bashfully.
She chuckled, “I asked if there’s anything else I could do for you, sweetie.”
If there anything else she could- Right! Yes, he needed to know where the hell he was staying at. Garfield fumbled for his phone, luckily for him he copied the address into his Notes app.
“Yeah actually! Well, not food wise but, I’m here in Paris for,” he blanched momentarily, “uh, an exchange program; and I have a like host family here, right?” he gestured to his voice; the American accent evident.
She nodded.
He continued, “And I don’t really uh, like, know exactly where I’m supposed to meet them. I was wondering if you by chance knew someone who lived on the Seine around here?” Garfield shoveled a croissant into his mouth.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Marinette was a lot of things.
To some she was the sweet bakers’ daughter, insanely witty and clever, granted a bit scatterbrained, but she was your trophy student by all means of the word; to others though, she was someone to be wary of. A classmate’s spew of lies crawling under their skins, itching to be taken into account. Every move watched meticulously, waiting with bated breath for a slip up, for anything to grasp on to.
In simpler terms, Marinette was over it. Over being unable to speak her truth; over being villainized, constantly put under a spotlight. There was already enough on her plate, one of its regulars accumulating to a steadily-rising designer. One of her biggest flexes, if she was being honest; because really, what fourteen year old could say they constructed glasses for the Jagged Stone? Surely not the average bunch.
Oh, and did she mention superheroine? Yeah, she’s a superheroine.
The whole gig was shoved at her face, three months shy of her thirteenth birthday; and by gig she meant a brief guide, a blindingly red polka-dotted suit, a questionable choice of weapon (seriously, a yo-yo?), and an ill-timed partner.
Nonetheless, she worked with what she got. It's kept her alive so far already, why complain now?
She rubbed her eyes with a stifled yawn, ‘’Radiant....Carefree....Dreamy…’’
Marinette slammed the snooze button at the sound of that god forsaken jingle. Christ, she needed to change her alarm. All it did was make her reminisce of her former crush on Adrien Agreste; top teen Parisian model, son of fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste, and current boyfriend of future Olympiad, Kagami Tsurugi. Alas, old habits die hard, and this one was going to crash and burn any time soon; Marinette was sure of it.
A groan sounded out as she flopped to the floor, skillfully ignoring the tinkling laughter coming from her bedside. Ah, who was she kidding? It’d take some sort of absolute miracle to get over him completely. She would end up forever lonely, pining over a taken man, indefinitely getting dropped from position as lead designer for Jagged, friendless, Akumatized, disowned by her parents-
“None of those things are true, and you know it!”
She snapped her gaze up to the floating embodiment of creation, Tikki. Had her friend really thought that, that look could get Marinette to take back her spiel? She looked like an angry kitten for crying out loud!
Her cheeks reddened as she got up and dusted herself off, “Did I say that out loud?”
Judging by the narrowing of the tiny god's eyes, she’d say yes, it was said out loud. Damn, she was not looking forward to a morning lecture about her declining self esteem and her tendency of speaking her mind. Before Tikki could get even a word in, the Just In Case™ alarm for bad mornings went off. She shot the kwami a rueful grin and scurried over to the counter.
“Radian-“ the clock was chucked out of the three story building. Marinette watched from her window as it plummeted to its demise, in a heap of cheap metal and wires. Lovely.
A red blur zoomed to the front of her face, making her go cross-eyed, ‘’Marinette!’’ Tikki frowned shakily, struggling not to smile at her antics. 
She shrugged and skipped over to her closet, in search for acceptable clothes,
‘’What? It was getting annoying! And besides, it’s not like it was worth that mu-!’’ They both froze at the pounding of the trap door.
Ugh, couldn’t they wait to bother her later?
‘‘You better get out of there soon, young lady! I don’t want another call from your school added to the list,’‘ Marinette was going to absolutely combust. It sucked enough that barely any of her ‘‘friends’’ stuck around, but Tom and Sabine? Really? Believing some complete stranger over her? It must be the lack of familial relation that makes it sting a bit less. It must.
She groaned tiredly, ‘’Yes, Sabine.’’
Once the descending pattering of her footsteps quieted, Tikki raced over to latch onto Marinette’s cheek. Her bluebell orbs peered up at her, filled with sympathy for her holder. She shook her head at the silent offer to talk; there’s no time for a pity party. 
The kwami sighed sadly, before pecking her cheek and floating over to rest on her shoulder. Marinette plastered on an encouraging smile, ‘‘C’mon Tikks’, help me pick out and outfit for today! You know how indecisive I can be,”
After some thinking, they’ve come to the mutual decision of something completely out of Marinette’s alley. Instead of her usual pink capris, floral shirt, blazer, flats, and pigtails; she sported a plaid pleated skirt, a tucked in Queen Bee graphic tee, black two-inch heart buckled platform Mary Janes, and spacebuns. Who knew her wardrobe from Clara Nightingale’s on-set music video would come to use? 
She ogled her reflection with a satisfied smirk, yeah, she was hot. 
‘’Holy shit, Tikki, if I was still into Adrien,’’ she whistled, ‘’he’d drop to the floor as soon as he saw this; and that’s coming from me!’’ 
The kwami shook her head good naturedly, ‘’I’m glad you think so. I really like confident Marinette!’’ she nudged her shoulder, ‘’Although, I hope you aren’t doing this for your classmates’ approval...’’ 
She directed her gaze at Tikki; an other person’s approval? Why would she do something for another person’s approv- Oh. She actually wasn’t that far off. 
‘‘Pssh. No, I would never! This is all me baby! The awesome, cool, and Pinterest board version, I mean,’‘ Marinette gave her little friend finger-guns and grabbed her purse. Enough about her, they needed to get to school before she was late again. 
‘‘Get in Tikks’, if we wait any longer I’ll be,’‘ she checked the time on her phone, ‘‘like five minutes late to homeroom!’‘ 
She flitted into the bag as Marinette settled it onto her side. With one last look-over, she was off. 
To say she struggled down the stairs was a complete and utter understatement. She almost died, multiple times. Maybe the platform shoes were a bad idea, a very, very, very bad idea. Marinette clutched onto the railing with an inhumane grip that could rival Alya’s on her phone; and that was telling you something. 
Once she made it passed the death trap, or rather simply a few steps, she grabbed an espresso and a handful of cookies; the former being for her, and the latter for Tikki. She gave a fleeting wave to Sabine and Tom, not that they gave any mind. 
She pulled out her phone, 8:26, she could work with that. Her phone buzzed with a text notification. 
 (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥          ɴᴏᴡ
where the fuck are you
Marinette snorted and slid the cookies into her purse. She unlocked the screen and tapped the message icon.
{𝟖:𝟐𝟕}  .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤°   🎀  𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒  🎀   °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.    
wouldnt you like to know weather boy
.
.
.
{𝟖:𝟐𝟪} (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥
wow ur so funny im literally laughing so hard rn 😐
.
.
{𝟖:𝟐8}   .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤°   🎀  𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒  🎀   °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.  
thank you, thank you, im here all night 🖤
.
 Marinette looked both ways before crossing the intersection, Dupont just about a block away. She chugged her now-cold coffee and tossed it in the recycling bin, ‘’Score! And the crowd goes wil-!’’ the atmosphere suddenly stilted.
‘‘Dupain-Cheng,’‘ she swiveled around, and was met with the putrid swamp green slits shes grown to despise. 
A snarl rolled off her tongue, ‘’Rossi.’’ 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
omg guys so hi. im doing this. im actually doing the thing i said i would do here  cuz im a bad bitch. 3k words i think. sorry for any mistakes i literally wrote this while watching pbs kids LMAOOOASODFWOEB @beautiful-disasters-sunshine idk if u still wanna be tagged when i do this kinda stuff but pm me if u dont <3
75 notes · View notes