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hoodieofholland · 4 years ago

Note

Hi if possible could you write a image where the reader isn’t famous but is dating Tom, he goes lives on Instagram and starts letting fans join and ask him a questions. You get picked to join and both of you have to try and keep a straight face without giving it away.🙂 doesn’t have to be exactly this is obviously just whatever you feel like! Thank you💕

tom+instagram here we go :)

Hope you like it!!

Warnings: language, that's all :)

"What are you doing?”, you ask your boyfriend through the phone, pressed between your ears and shoulder, while you wandered around the house to get some tasks done. There were noises in the other side of the call, and you could distinguish Harrison’s voice.

“Nothin’, just setting things up for my live. Harrison’s been helping me, you know how I suck at this whole Instagram thing”, he explains, humming as he scrolled through his phone, you on speaker.

You giggle, “I know it pretty well. Think I’m gonna just take a rest and watch you struggling online”.

“Ha-ha, very funny, girlfriend”, he puffs, but you can almost hear his smile behind that sarcastic tone. “But I’d appreciate if you showed up. Who knows, I could just introduce you to all of my fans”.

You take in a sharp breath, contemplating if that was simply a joke or if there was a true desire behind that statement. You chew on your lips and keep silence.

The two of you have been in a relationship for almost one and half an year now, but you managed - only God knows how - to keep discreet about it, keeping it a secret. For his friends, Tom had an amazing girlfriend, whom everyone pretty much appreciated spending time with. For the rest of the world, Tom was a single, charmer and desired young Hollywood actor.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep you his little secret. It was pretty much the opposite, actually. After your first six months together, Tom had tried to convince you to reveal your relationship, too tired of not being able to show off your love outside the comfort of his house. But you wasn’t willing to do that just yet. And after one and a half year, there you were, still afraid of how things might end up if you told them the truth.

You loved Tom, and you loved the fact the he was such a talented, hardworking man, but the fact that he was also a Hollywood star, known in the whole world, made you feel cornered. You didn’t want people to judge your relationship, to judge you or to give your relationship some kind of approval. You just wasn’t ready to give up your anonymity and become Tom Holland’s girlfriend.

Things were just perfect the way they were. You wanted it to stay like that for a little more time.

But you knew the day would eventually come. It was hard to not be spotted in the street with Tom by your side. You’d never show up in an event together, always making sure to only hold hands or show affection when behind four walls, only when you were pretty sure there was no paparazzi following him. You didn’t like that neither. You wanted to act normal, to have nice date nights with him, to walk outside in summer with Tessa. You just wanted to be who you were with him inside his or your house.

“I was- I was kidding, love”, he said sheepishly, and you could sense the nervousness on his voice, chuckling slightly to hide it from you. “It would be dumb, right?”

You swallow hard. “Uh- no. No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not ready yet, but it’s alright. I know you were joking”. You curse yourself for being so dramatic about it, but you couldn’t help it. “So, when is it starting?”

“In about five minutes actually. I gotta go now, okay?”

“Yeah”, you smile tightly. “Okay, gonna watch here. Love ya”.

“Love you, darling”.

You both hang up and you sit on the edge of your bed, laying down and closing your eyes, puffing your cheeks out and rubbing your temples. “Damn it”.

Before you can call him back and tell him you were sorry over it, you sit properly on your bed and open your Instagram app, searching for him. After those exact five minutes, he was going live. You smile at the picture of him on your screen. He looked handsome, as always, but added up to the fact that he was far away, in Atlanta, while shooting Spider-Man 3.

You watch as he explains what he was going to do in his live, waving to Harrison right behind him, distracted on his own phone, saying that he was there as a support team. You laugh at how clueless he is. He starts to pick fans to join live and ask him questions. You were pretty surprised that he was allowed to do that, not giving away any spoiler, but he managed it after all.

You were having fun watching him struggle to say some usernames, and kinda surprised at how bold some comments on the bottom of your screen were. He’s single, remember?, you think to yourself and sigh frustrated. You could just go on and tell everybody, put an end to this whole situation during interviews, where Tom was always questioned about his love life and got uncomfortable about it, where you were upset for not being able to tell them to stop shipping him with girls he wasn't interested in, cause he was with you and you only.

But instead, you just sat there, watching your gorgeous boyfriend smiling sheepishly at the camera while a fan asked him about some photos that were taken of him and his co-star a while ago. He shrugged it off and told her they were just friends, but the comments made it very clear they weren't buying it.

"Alright, gonna pick another one, lemme see..."

You get yourself distracted by the concentrated face he put on, a small wrinkle between his brows, and then it happened.

All of a sudden, you see yourself on the screen, half of it filled with Tom's video, just like the previous fan. Your eyes go wide as soon as you realize you're going live with Tom.

"Shit!" He curse immediately, eyes bugging out and looking for something on his screen to take you out of it. "Sorry, I think I just tapped the wrong thing- fuck, how do I-?"

You're startled, looking at his agitated movements as he waves to Harrison desperately, and you try to think about what to do while being completely dumbfounded with the comments going on. Most of them were laughing at the fact that Tom kept being clueless with Instagram, but some of them actually commenting about you.

She's so pretty!!

Omg i think i saw her with tom somewhere

Is she the girl that was at the ffr set and no one new about??

You are about to close your app and leave them all behind, but you can't seem to be able to take your eyes off of the screen. A thought is stuck in your mind, where those people could actually know you, talk to you, and this shouldn't be so hard.

Tom wanted it. He wanted to show the world that you were his girl, wanted to go places with you and not need a whole scheme to protect you from camera lenses.

So instead of just stepping out of this, you decided to wave your hand at them, sit on your bed a little straighter and smile.

"Hey, Tom", you said, leaving it up to him if he wanted to say it now or not. He looked at you with wide eyes, Harrison by his side, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, uh, y/u/n" he tried to play it cool, not so sure about what he wanted to do. "Nice user". And just like that, the two of you played along as two complete strangers for a whole ten minutes, until you said your goodbyes and Tom were left alone to end his live.

You felt incredibly happy with the nice comments and about how easy it was for you to make an appearance for the first time. It wasn't like you had just told them the truth, but it was something, and you felt more comfortable about it now.

Tom called you to a video call as soon as he ended the live, equally amazed by how this turned out. He apologized for bringing you to it, and you told him it was fine, that you even liked showing up.

"I think... I think that I'm ready", you said, biting your lips nervously. "I mean, if you are too".

He went silent for a few seconds before saying. "Wow. Really? Yeah, I mean, I'm more than ready. It doesn't have to be like an announcement, we could just, I don't know, go out and just wait till they-"

"Guys!" You heard Harrison shout somewhere in Tom's living room.

Tom turned his head to look at something Haz was showing and the blonde quickly made his way to appear on your screen.

On his phone there was a page with headline: Tom Holland goes live and fans spot his supposed girlfriend, y/n y/l/n.

Harrison scrolled through the page, where a lot of evidences of you and Tom being together were collected, when both of you were spotted in the same places at the same time or even one of you at Far From Home's set.

"Uh, so..." Tom twisted his nose. "I don't think we'll need to tell them anymore".

********

Taglist (add yourself to my taglist, link at navigation)

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft @spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough

@nsxvision @xoxohollands

@siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

@tomshufflepuff

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #boyfriend!tom #actor!tom #request #anon #request anon

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stylesberries · 4 years ago

Text

Stay With Me

Summary: You meet Harry on his trip to Italy in an art gallery. You fell in love to the art and architecture of Rome.

Genre(s): fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning(s): none. (Except the unbounded sweetness.)

“Why is it so hot?” You whined to yourself, walking along the pavement, trying to make your way around the wide trunks of old stone pines.

You unscrewed the cap of a water bottle off and took a sip. The ice-cold water you bought from a food stall by the Trevi Fountain was already a little too warm for your liking. Trying not to mind it too much you emptied the bottle at one gulp.

“Did the food stall keeper tell me to turn right here or go straight ahead?”

You tried to playback on the conversation you had a little over fifteen minutes ago, but you couldn’t get yourself to focus. It was so hot.

You walked through the narrow side streets of Rome. Little souvenirs shops surrounded you from both sides as you made your way along the lane without turning, trying your luck.

When you reached a wider street that opened to your view as you left the tight space, you could breathe the fresh car exhausts again. There it is.

Barberini Palace.

Home to the National Gallery of Ancient Art - the main reason why you were so determined to find this place.

With newfound determination, you moved along the pavement to walk up to the fenced area that belonged to the Palace. You prayed that it was open today. You checked online, but you still felt a rush of worry fill you when you saw the door closed and not wide-open like it usually was in museums like this. The reason for it being that there were so many tourists at all time walking in and out of these historical places that there was no reason and no point to keep closing and opening the door.

You closed your eyes as you reached for the door handle and pushed it. It is hard to describe the sense of pleasant surprise you felt when the door obeyed the force applied by you.

As the heavy door lets you inside of the little room where the tickets were sold, you let your eyes scan over the interior. The ceilings were tall and a beautiful fresco of heavenly bodies and angels was spread across them.

After you got tickets you walked further into the spacious room and walked up the creme marble stairs that the lady at the door told you to follow.

As you made your way up the stairs, in the corners of which stood tall marble sculptured of Roman men and women, you felt eyes on you.

Eyes of all of the heavenly bodies that dwelt at the surface of the frescoes and those who stood in cold marble prisons and watched you walk by so freely.

“What a beautiful place!” You talked to yourself once again.

You came to Rome alone. A getaway trip - as you like to refer to it. You needed to spend more time with yourself and yourself only. Just you and the ancient art of Rome. At least just for now.

You made your way through the gallery, analyzing every painting a bit too long for most people.

That’s why you came alone. You could now stand by every piece of art for an indefinite amount of time. You could stand by this painting for the whole day until the guards kick you out. Nobody was here with you to keep pulling you to the next painting. You could finally find peace and relaxation.

You slowly made your way to the biggest frame you’d seen so far. There was a place to sit in front of it, so you sat down, as the painting was full of the smallest details, and you were determined to only leave when you take note of every one of them you could see.

You sat there for fifteen minutes and didn’t notice as time went by. You were so focused on the see of little creatures that hid behind tall oak trees, children that ran around the flower field chasing baby ducks and a group of women that bathed in light fabric and wallowed in the warm rays of the sun.

“It’s beautiful,” you muttered under your breath and situated your elbow on your knee, letting it hold your chin.

“It really is.”

A voice took you by surprise and made you tear yourself from the picture.

You turned your head, which was still situated on your hand, towards the sound. There stood a young man in wide-leg white pants, a T-shirt, and a think blue cardigan on top of it. A beige cap covered his hair, but you could still see some curls on the sides of his head.

He didn’t exactly look dangerous, but the voice in your head kept screaming “CREEPY GUY AHEAD OF YOU! RUN BEFORE HE MAKES A MOVE!” Growing up a woman taught you too many lessons.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. You probably want to sit down. I’ve been sitting here for so long!” You abruptly got up from your place and grabbed the bag that you threw to your side on the seat.

“SHOOT HIM A SMILE AND GET OUT!”

You smiled at him and went to turn around, but he talked back to you.

“No, no. You shouldn’t have gotten up. I could tell y’wanted to take some time. I understand. The painting is full of detail. Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ve just never seen anyone sit in front of a painting for so long.” The guy smiled at you with his cheeks starting to turn rosy.

The second you heard him seemingly judge you for staring at the picture for too long, you turned back with a frown on your face ready to clap back before he continued.

“You looked very passionate and I would love it if we could sit and discuss it maybe? I know it sounds weird coming from a stranger-” He paused.

“You bet, crazy man.” You thought to yourself and giggled softly, realizing that the possibility that this ball of nerves is a human trafficker is close to zero.

“You just seemed nice.” He finished, paying no mind to your giggling.

“He isn’t trying to come to close. Hasn’t called me anything weird yet. Looks like he reads a ton of Joan Didion. Why not?” The voice inside of your head was now protecting this stranger from you, which happened very rarely.

“We could.” You finally answer him, after making him stare at you expectingly.

It didn’t take you a while to figure out who he was. When you sat next to him to talk to him and finally looked at him properly, without trying to run away, the realization came upon you. You were a fan and you loved his music, but you could tell he didn’t want the conversation to be about him, so you talked about one of your favorite things in the world - art.

You talked about the painting in front of you and after you had already discussed every little detail you noticed, you moved to the frescoes on the ceiling. Harry seemed surprised at your knowledge of art and kept getting more and more into the conversation with every new word that left your mouth. After talking about frescoes Harry asked you about the purpose of your trip. You told him everything as it was. Still, to this day you were surprised about the honesty that you showed a man that you had never met before that.

Later, when you were both making your way down the marble stairs, Harry asked you if you’d like to have lunch with him the next day, to which you agreed to, knowing that you have nothing better to do and you were quite enjoying his company.

In the following weeks, you exchanged numbers and texted whenever you weren’t able to meet. Harry would send you pictures of art and architecture of places he visited for his new Gucci campaign. You would reply to him with pictures of an antique fountain outside the Contemporary Art Museum you went to.

Harry seemed surprisingly normal for a man who starts a conversation with strangers in art museums. He would invite you over to his hotel to go get some gelato together and talk about the highlights of your trip. It became an everyday thing for you to walk around in parks by the palaces or get lost in the labyrinths of tightly packed buildings in the city center.

You spent two weeks of your life with a complete stranger that by the end of the trip seemed closer to you than any friend you had before. Harry would listen to your rants and venting without making you feel bad for sharing certain things with him. He would talk to you about any exciting thing that happens to him throughout the day with an adorable look on his face. You didn’t know what caused the gleam in his eyes, but you were glad he was enjoying his time in Italy just as much as you did.

Harry had never enjoyed a trip to work this much before. He was full of excitement and positive energy. He would wake up every day thinking about you and places he could take you to. It was a little strange to be so vigorous, even for him. Skipping breakfast, in order to have ice-cream with you was something he had never done before for anyone.

What Harry didn’t know that the quivering and light trembling he felt every time he thought of you was none other than aborning love - the kind that gives life a meaning.

Harry knew that you didn’t live in Rome and you would have to go back home after your trip is over. However, the heart-sinking that Harry felt when you told him that your flight was in two days was indescribable. Was this really the end?

He was being a little bit dramatic, as you did exchange numbers, so you would be in touch, but it still wasn’t enough for him. The reason behind it was still a mystery to him.

When Harry invited you for dinner a day before you had to leave back home, you couldn’t hold back a genuine smile that made his heart flutter.

Here you were now - getting ready to go out to dinner with Mr. Harry Styled himself.

After applying a green graphic liner all over your eyelids, putting on a little bit of blush and a lipgloss, you stepped into your rufous-brown flares. You tugged a plain white T-shirt into them and put on a blue linen blazer. You walked out of your hotel room in brown loafers, grabbing the key and your bag on the way out.

You took a taxi to get to the restaurant where Harry was waiting for you. On the way to the restaurant, the butterflies in your stomach made themselves felt, surprising you.

“It’s just Harry. Why am I so anxious?”

When you paid the driver and walked out of the taxi, you could see a beautiful building in front of you. Its exterior reminded you of the Venice style of architecture. Dark olive tree leaves flooded the street, after being torn from the comfort of their branches by the cool wind.

You made your way to the entrance, where the doorman let you in and greeted you. The hostess came up to you and asked you about your reservation.

“Mr. Styles. I think he should already be here.” You answer her.

When she heard the name she turned to the doorman and asked him to escort you to your table. The doorman then leads you deeper into the restaurant, where the private booths are situated and pulls on a curtain of one of them to let you in.

You are greeted by a dreamy view.

Harry sat at the table in a creme colored suit and a white tank top. The candles in front of him illuminated the booth and their light reflected from him collar bones, so you could see the wings of his sparrows tattoo.

“Hi, Y/N! You look beautiful.” He softly smiled at you and you could see a light shade of pink appear on the apples of his cheeks.

“Hi, Harry. You look beautiful as well.” You smiled back at him and sat down opposite to him.

You could see his eyes scan your outfit and makeup.

“Does he think it’s too much?” Immediately, blood rushed to your cheeks as you blushed in embarrassment. “Here am I scaring people off being extra again. Great.”

Before you could let your mind sneer at you further, Harry spoke up.

“I love your makeup. I’ve never seen someone do their makeup like this. I guess it’s out of most people’s comfort zones. Looks beautiful on you. I-I mean everything does.” Harry’s voice died down by the end of the sentence, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

“Thank you so much. I try to experiment with clothes and makeup as much as possible. Makeup especially. I like using my face as a canvas. It takes time to get proper supplies to paint, but makeup is always around so I try not to lose any opportunities to have fun with it.”

While you skimmed through the menus, you discussed how you applied the wings so evenly and promised him to do his makeup one day. After choosing the main courses, Harry started telling you about the Gucci photoshoot that was now wrapping up.

“We’re almost done, so I think by the end of next week I’ll be going back home.” He started.

“That sounds wonderful, Harry. Do you think that you could send me more pictures when I leave? I’ll be far away from this beauty and I wouldn’t want it to leave my sight.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Harry muttered to himself.

“Hm?” You asked.

“No, no, nothing. I said I’ll make sure to send you as many pictures as I can.” He tried to brush it off, looking at you intently.

“Weird,” you thought but didn’t worry about it too much.

Throughout the dinner, you and Harry discussed so many different topics that you lost count by the end of it. Harry kept making jokes just to make you laugh over and over again, loving how the corners of your eyes creased when you laughed and how you had to wipe the tears his jokes caused to see clearly.

By the end of the dinner, the laughter died down and Harry’s mood became the opposite of what it was when you entered the booth.

“Hey, is something wrong? You seem upset.” You carefully started.

“No, everything is alright, love, don’t worry.” He quickly answered.

Love. That sounded so nice.

You chose not to bother him further and chose to tell him pleasant stories instead, but he wouldn’t let this weird melancholy go. Even the sweetness of dessert didn’t make it better.

“My mom used to tell me that if even a dessert doesn’t make your problems go away, you’re in deep shit.” You tried to lighten the mood.

You could now see a little smile growing on Harry’s face. The little smile slowly grew into a wide grin, which later on grew into a burst of guttural laughter. Harry kept laughing so hard that he felt the need to cover his face with his hands. Saying that you were proud of yourself was an understatement.

You just sat there with a stupid smile on your face staring at him in awe. “He’s really cute.”

When Harry’s laughter died down he looked at you with a sad smile on his face.

“I will miss y’so much.” He looked at you full of sincerity and tenderness.

You furrowed your brows at him and you let your chin fall on your palm, as your elbow found its place on the surface of the table.

“But I’m here.” You gave him a soft smile and let your eyes run over his frame. He looked completely defeated. There was nothing left of the happy, constantly-beaming-with-life Harry that you’ve spent the last two weeks with.

“You’re leaving tomorrow. You won’t be here anymore.” He let his eyes fall on the candles that slowly melted to their death. As the white wax dripped down the side of the candle, Harry could feel his time with you slip away as well.

“We can still text, right?” You tried to soothe the pain that he seems to be going through.

“That’s not the same.” He lets out a sigh full of frustration before looking up at you with sadness dwelling his eyes.

“I want to be around you. Physically. You made this trip the best one in my entire life just by blessing me with your presence.” Harry felt the now-familiar fluttering in his stomach as he let those gentrice words leave his mouth.

You couldn’t stop yourself from frowning, confused by his honesty.

“How am I supposed to go on with my life when I always feel the need to be around you? And I’ve only known you for what? Two weeks?” Harry speaks again, letting all of his frustration with the situation out.

You kept looking at him not knowing what to say. “If he’s being honest, I should be honest, too.” You thought and let your heart guide you.

“I don’t know why, but I feel the same way. You’ve made these two weeks magical and I don’t think I have ever been happier. I don’t want to leave.” You were the one to watch the candle melting now. With every drop of hot wax, you had less and less time together. It was closer and closer to the time of your departure. You felt unbounded sadness overflow you.

Harry looked at you and you could almost see gears turning in his head.

“Stay with me,” Harry asks you, staring right into your eyes, which were now staring back into his.

“What?” You ask confusingly.

“Stay with me. Don’t leave.” Harry spoke softer this time.

Harry knew it was a lot to ask of a stranger, but he also knew that you were far from being strangers after these two weeks full of tenderness and growing adoration for life. It felt like you’ve known each other in past lives. Like you were meant to meet in Rome and never part again.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and let yourself reach for his hand, which laid on the table.

“Stay with you?” You repeated his words under your breath.

“Stay with me.” Harry whispered. His face softened as he let his face come closer to yours with the table still between you.

You mirrored his actions and let your eyes fall on his pink lips. He noticed you looking and took it as a sign to come closer.

“I will stay.” You answered him. Your faces were a few inches away. When Harry heard you, his eyes went wide and he moved his face even closer to yours to a point where your lips were almost touching.

“May I?” He asked not allowing him lips to touch yours yet.

What a fucking man.

“Kiss me, you fool.” You spoke into his lips.

Harry chuckled, pushing his lips to connect them with yours.

Your kiss was interrupted by the waiter, who opened the curtains of the private booth. When he saw you kissing, he felt blood rush to his face.

“Oh, Io chiedo sinceramente scusa.“

The waiter seemed so flustered that he forgot all the little English he knew.

Harry moved away from you and turned to the waiter, who stood by the table with the receipt in his hand.

“Non ti preoccupare.” Harry spoke back to the waiter, surprising you both and reached for his wallet.

He placed his credit card in the receipt folder that the waiter passed him and thanked him, turning back to you.

“You speak Italian?” You asked him for completely bewildered by your new finding.

“That’s the Italian I know.” He smiled at you and reached for your cheek.

“That was so awkward, Harry.” You mumbled against his hand, closing your eyes in embarrassment.

“Oh, c’mon. Could it really be more awkward than trying to kiss properly with a table full of burning candles in our way?” He joked before pulling you closer and letting your laughter intertwine with his breath before continuing.

“Let’s pick it up where we left off now.”

——————————————————————————

Io chiedo sinceramente scusa. - I sincerely apologize.

Non ti preoccupare. - Don’t worry about it.

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #harry styles blurbs #harry styles italy

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rosamundhr · 4 years ago

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Books and Sins | Chapter One [Benedict Cumberbatch AU]

Summary: Katherine is a fan of Timothy Carlton, the writer who she knows nothing about. No photos, no interviews, no information, not even his age. And one day, a man comes into her life who claims to be her classmate from high school. But through the time, she has a gut feeling something is... Wrong.

PS: I was inspired by fictional characters before writing this; Sherlock Holmes, Khan Noonien Singh, Alexander Masters, Joe Goldberg, Patrick Bateman and all the psychopath characters I've seen before. Oh and some books & tv shows. The character might be like any of them so please do not judge. And please read at your own risk as this book will include mature content, self harm, violence and swearing. Thank you, I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

- Rosamund

~~~~~

"Cappuccino please," she asked the bartender, and then added kindly "My name is Katherine." before he could ask.

Katherine... Benedict thought. It's nice meeting you... Finally.

He was just behind her, and he could smell her linden scent. Even being this close to her was exciting, and he tried to keep his hands to himself. Taking a deep breath to stay calm, he ordered as well while keeping an eye on her.

She found herself a table, and put her headphones on. Looking through her bag she finally took her book out. Caged Will - Timothy Carlton. The book looked worn and old. Is this your fifth time reading it? Oh no, it was Secret Caller. Your favourite... You can't imagine how sexy you look when you read my books. Those fingers, you once said they're always cold; oh how I want them around my-- "Are you going to keep standing?" The old lady said with a look of disapproval. He bit his cheeks inside his mouth, I'm going to cut your fucking throat with that denture, he thought but of course he didn't say that out loud: "I'm so sorry, ma'am." With a fake, small smile, he walked towards her table.

"Excuse me, is this taken?"

She looked up at him and took her headphones off, "No it's not, you can take it." she smiled. He just sat down, and her smile faded while continuing to read her book. Soon, she felt his gaze on herself and looked at him again, before she could say anything he said "I think I..." He pretended to think, narrowing his eyebrows, "I might know you... Katherine? Ashbourne High School?"

She was surprised, "Yeah, it's me!" And felt bad for not remembering him for a moment. "And you must be..."

"Benedict. That one guy who never talked to anyone and always got high grades."

"Oh I remember you! Were you wearing glasses back then?" You're a bad, bad liar, my love. But I'm not.

"Yes I was." He smiled cheekily, and shook her hand. It sent him vibrations inside... Cold fingertips, just like how he imagined they would feel. Soft and delicate. No nail polish, just manicured. Small and cute.

"It's been a very long time. Eight years!" She said, still not remembering him but trying to.

"Yes, you changed a lot! You're even more beautiful now." This made her giggle, "What? I'm telling the truth! You were the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"Was I?" She smiled at him, and he knew why. She always thought she wasn't beautiful, and he knew it. And he wasn't lying, she really was beautiful.

"Yes you were! Didn't anyone tell you? I never had to courage to tell you that I liked you because I thought you must have had a boyfriend."

She giggled again, like she couldn't believe it. Someone liked her and couldn't tell her. Someone found her beautiful. Maybe he was just being kind.

"I didn't. I wish you had told me, Benedict."

"Well, I'm telling you now." He flashed her a cheeky grin before taking a sip of his Americano.

"So... What do you do?" Her interest was obvious, and he'd seen that question coming. A complete geek, good reader, 26 year old virgin, shy, clever, beautiful. Hiding something in these dark pools of mystery... These dark brown eyes.

"I'm a writer."

"Oh really?!" Her eyebrows shot up, and she leaned forward against the table, revealing cleavage. He tried not to look there, and smiled. "Yes. And you?"

"I studied psychological counseling and guidance, I'm working at a school now."

"I knew you were interested in psychology..." He looked at his watch and quickly stood up, "I'm so sorry, I have a meeting in thirty minutes. Can I have your number?"

"Yeah, of course. Just tell me yours and I'll give you a ring."

Oh no need, I have it already.

He gave her his number and smiled at her. "It was nice seeing you again, Katherine. I'd love to meet up again sometime."

"Me too, Benedict. Good luck with the meeting!"

"Thank you, darling. Have a good day." He took his bag and turned his back, before she asked "I don't recall your surname..."

"Cumberbatch, Benedict Cumberbatch." He waved at her and left the café with a smirk. Almost got you, baby. So naïve, so blind and silly yet intelligent. You have to be mine, and mine alone.

---

KathieD: I'm reading The Caged Will again. My favourite part is when he stabbed his stomach eleven times. He deserved it though! Not to mention that the main character hates odd numbers. He also never revealed his name...

I know, I know, I talk a LOT about the books but you know, this man is a LEGEND. No wonder why he's nowhere on the internet. No photos, no interviews, nothing at all. That makes him more mysterious... Timothy Carlton. We can't deduce anything by the name, can we? Maybe he's a real psycho. Who knows? I wonder if he reads people's comments...

Mr Carlton, if you're reading this, I just want you to know that I love your books! You're a great writer and I just wish I could get to know you in real life. Lots of love!

7.689 likes, 35 comments

Samantha_X: I know how you feel, girl. He's an amazing writer! Too bad if he doesn't know that...

KatherineD: Exactly! I just wish he would let us contact him sometime.

Samantha_X: Same :(

KatherineD: I have something to tell you, hmu!

Samantha_X: Sure thing! X

She was bouncing on her bed as she started telling her online friend. She's been telling almost everything about her life to her because they were like sisters now. They even met in real life and she was her best friend.

K: He was wearing a long beige jacket and eyeglasses, with a leather postman bag, and smelt like mint. Did I say that he has blue eyes?

S: Just your type, huh? Tell me what happened already!!!

K: So he said he knew me from high school, (i'm not sure if I remember him) and I was the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, and he liked me but couldn't tell me because he thought I had a boyfriend! I never did!

S: And then?????!!!

K: We kept talking, and he suddenly said he needed to go and asked for my number. I took his and gave him a ring, then asked his surname, Benedict Cumberbatch.

S: So, did you call him? I think you should, you seem like you like him already lol

K: Not after what happened last time, I don't want to have a boyfriend for a while tbh

S: Wait, you didn't tell me, what happened?

K: Never mind, I'll tell you later... Did I mention that he's a writer? I couldn't see any books online though. There's only one Instagram account with his name but it's private and I'm not sure if it's him, so I'll just wait for his call i guess :(

S: Why don't you call him already? xD

K: I don't want to seem desperateeee

S: You won't!

K: What if he was just being kind? I'll just wait, don't force me >:(

S: Hahaha OK!

She kept thinking of him all night, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he lied about being a writer... Maybe he didn't get his books published yet, she thought. Why would he lie about that? And... He was really attractive. The way he talked, the way he smiled... No, she didn't fall in love with a stranger! Not a stranger, a friend from high school. She couldn't remember him though. Or... Did she? Could he be the guy who never talked to anyone? But no, he had green eyes... No, blue. Green or blue? She sighed in frustration and took her phone, it was 1 AM and wasn't the right time to call him... Not to text him either.

Still thinking of him, she fell asleep.

152 notes · View notes

notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 5: Mall trip with the girls plus Kaminari, Shoji and Ojiro as you’re all followed by your scruffy homeroom teacher that would much rather sleep than chaperone you all. It’s not exactly what you expected when you’re cornered the second you’re left alone.

Word Count: 5k

Warning: harassment

Excited shrieks filled the air and you would've cringed at the ringing the loud volume had on your sensitive ears if you weren't so excited yourself. Shooting down the hallway at lightning speed, the girls passed the two of you in a flash to get to the first floor of the dormitory, leaving you and Ojiro alone.

He laughed, then extended a hand out to you in a silent invitation. You took it without so much as a pause and the two of you started to head downstairs.

Then he frowned as something unwelcome popped up in his head. "The mall is pretty crowded this time of day."

It was still light outside since they were just let out of school. He knew there was going to be a lot of people and didn't know how well you fared in a crowd. You seemed extremely jumpy, especially around strangers and he didn't want to put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable.

Swinging your joined hands leisurely, you tugged it a little to gain his attention. "I think I should be okay."

He squeezed your hand once and made a mental note to ensure your safety while you were out. Those people were probably still looking for you. He would've gone by himself but he had a feeling you weren't going to let him. Not to mention, you hadn't been exposed to all the wonderful things this world had to offer.

And he was going to introduce you to all of them. Starting with the mall that held endless amounts of entities to entertain you.

When you arrived on the common floor, you were surprised to see Shoji and Kaminari waiting along with the girls. Ojiro had texted them, asking if they wanted to come with.

"Ojiro!!" Kaminari waved excitedly, bounding up to you. "Can we tag along?"

"If it's not too much of a bother." Shoji interjected, folding his duplicate arms over his chest. "We'd like to accompany you."

They were asking more for your benefit than his.

"Sure!!" Ojiro responded after sharing a look with you to make sure it was okay. "We'll need a car though to get there since taking a train isn't an option if we're bringing back a bed. Uh, does anyone know how to drive?"

Since no one raised a hand, they didn't have much of a choice and took a trek to the private room near the dormitory. A separate office building for the homeroom teachers.

Aizawa opened the door to his designated study and raised an eyebrow at the sight before him. You were standing on the other side, along with all the girls from Class 1-A, Ojiro, Kaminari and Shoji.

After you explained your plan to your homeroom teacher/temporary guardian, he begrudgingly agreed to take you all there, renting out a van large enough to hold the group of ten children and one very tired adult.

Since you were all minors, you needed to be escorted by a guardian after school let out. That was a new measure of safety instilled by the principal since the USJ incident and the attack at the training camp.

Naturally, Aizawa was the most suitable choice since he was the only adult who could tolerate all of you and your craziness on a daily basis.

The disgruntled teacher wandered around his office to collect his bag and capture weapon, grabbing something else on the way out.

To keep you from attracting too much attention, he had insisted that you cover your ears and hide your tail. He lent you a scarf but it didn't do much. Because you go excited easily, your ears would perk up and the fabric would fall off, usually blocking your vision.

He would've thought it was endearing if he wasn't busy worrying about how easily you could be kidnapped in a soft target, like the huge mall they were going to. It would be hard to protect you.

You came up with a solution. After you wrapped his scarf around your head, you put up the hood of Ojiro's hoodie to secure it, raising your arms cheerfully at your success.

His smile, borderlining on fond, faded as you bounded away towards Jirou. It wasn't like him to show so much emotion in front of his students and he needed to correct it before it got out of hand and he was subjected to, heaven forbid, his students' teasing.

Instead, when you were out of earshot, he instructed Ojiro not to leave your side. His student replied back that he wasn't planning on it since this was for your benefit. Not to mention, he really didn't want to be anywhere else besides your side.

Aizawa glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as his students piled into the van, noticing the color on the usually calm and composed teenager's cheeks for the very first time.

He shook his head, guessing what was going on relatively easily.

Kids these days.

Thirty very long minutes later, he had barely parked when the side door was being thrown open and you were practically dragged out by a very enthusiastic Ashido and Hagakure while a worried Yaoyorozu shouted for them to slow down.

Ojiro raced to catch up with them and Aizawa sighed, motioning for Shoji who had stayed seated out of consideration for him, that it was safe to leave now that he had turned the vehicle off.

Your eyes lit up with awe at the huge building before you packed with people that you were guessing was unique for a weekday judging by the expression on Jirou's face.

"This is pretty weird," She mused, tapping an earphone jack to her chin absentmindedly before dropping it in realization, expression clearing. "Ah, that explains it."

Following her gaze, you saw several signs advertising a huge sale taking place in most of the stores today in honor of Hero Day. You had no idea it was Hero Day, let alone that such a thing existed.

Together, you all eagerly ducked inside.

Aizawa lagged behind, not able to keep up with the energetic bunch. He opted for doing surveillance since he really didn't want to be here, but that was until you had begged him with puppy eyes to come along with.

And although he was tired and didn't really want to walk around and have to talk to people, he agreed for your sake. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he watched you interact with Yaoyorozu and Kaminari, and a fond smile pulled at the edge of his mouth.

Yeah, as long as it was you, he didn't mind.

Shoji soon broke off to go find some free weights that were at an acceptable price, and Asui and Uraraka tagged along with him as Yaoyorozu, Ashido and Hagakure high-tailed it into a fashion store.

Jirou tagged along with you, Ojiro and Kaminari, having nothing better to do and not really wanting to go off on her own.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Aizawa trailed behind you as you walked towards the home goods store.

You wanted to laugh so badly.

Kaminari, Ojiro, Aizawa and Jirou were all positioned in a way around you that made you think they were your bodyguards. They certainly were acting like it.

Although, it was really cute how Kaminari was playing with Ojiro's tail, the latter being conscious not to move it too much unless it was to tickle his face.

Pure and wholesome.

Unbeknownst to you, Aizawa had already warned off several creepers with a sharp look that could kill. He didn't know why these guys decided to try their luck with you but he wasn't going to let them lay a finger on you.

Ojiro had grasped your hand the instant you stepped in the crowded mall and hadn't let go yet. You liked how his hand in yours felt, but you didn't want to feel like he needed to protect you all the time. You felt like it was a lot of trouble for him.

Although, the sentiment was sweet.

Once you got in the home goods store, you ran off towards the beds, shouting over your shoulder that you would be right back and that they could stay there. You knew exactly what you were going to get, you had seen it online just the other day and it was perfect.

Ojiro immediately went to go after you but you had promised to be back in a minute.

Kaminari toyed with the fluffy end of Ojiro's tail while they waited for you to finish picking out what you wanted. Jirou struck up a conversation with Aizawa about something he had taught in the lesson earlier that she still didn't quite understand, and that led to an in-depth but concise spontaneous lecture.

Ojiro's eyes didn't stray from where you had disappeared, waiting for you to come back. The area only had one entrance and exit, so no one could get you without them noticing at least.

But as a couple minutes passed, he was getting more worried. The more logical side of his brain told him that he was being irrational but he didn't care.

"Dude, she's only been gone for a few minutes, I'm sure everything's fine." Kaminari reassured him as his tail jerked out of his hand, flicking nervously back and forth.

But Ojiro shook his head, already making his way over to the back of the store where you most likely were.

"Jirou!!" He shouted over his shoulder, ignoring the strange looks he got as he called to his friend. "Where is she?!"

She looked puzzled, breaking off Aizawa with a quick apology. "What?"

"I... I've got a bad feeling," Ojiro couldn't explain it well but his eyes were frantic. "Can you find her?!"

Jirou shot him a look that said he was overreacting but obliged anyways, understanding where his concern was stemming from. "Yeah, of course, give me one second."

Plugging her jack into the floor, her brow knitted in concentration. Kaminari looked on and would've been impressed yet again by her quirk if she hadn't suddenly shot up to her feet, nearly knocking into his chin.

Jirou didn't offer the boys any explanation as she sped left, veering off to a part of the store Ojiro had completely missed before.

"This way!! Hurry!!"

They tore after her and catching on quickly, Aizawa dashed after them.

They may have only been his students inside the classroom but at this point he couldn't help but worry about them outside of it. He caught up to them within seconds, his strides longer than theirs, but what he saw as they all rounded the corner made his blood boil.

And the rage on Ojiro's face was portraying the exact level he felt.

You were being cornered by three boys who were much bigger than you, your hood off and scarf discarded on the floor, revealing the flattened ears against your head. Your tail was bristling as they advanced further, giving away your distress as though it wasn't already rolling off of you in waves. You were snarling at them, baring your canines threateningly but they continued to sling suggestive and hateful comments at you.

"Oooo, a wolf quirk, huh? You want me to call you puppy?" One of them sneered.

His buddy egged him on. "You have heats? I bet I could help you with that, baby."

"Freak." The last one spat, clearly angered for a reason you didn't understand.

You were close to tears but you didn't want them to get the satisfaction of seeing you cry. That was easier said than done as the angry one yanked your tail. Pain spiked through your body and you clapped a hand to prevent you from screaming as tears slipped down your cheeks.

"Aw, look. Puppy's crying." The big one taunted, smirking. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

You snarled, though it lost its potency as you cried. "Get the hell away from me."

They poked and prodded you, egging you on until you felt like dying of humiliation.

They caught you off guard. It all happened so quickly, you didn't know where they came from. One minute you were looking at merchandise and the next, your front was pinned against the wall. You were able to get out of their hold before they did anything, but you weren't able to escape them entirely.

Cut off from your only escape route from the back of the store where there were literally no other people, you buried your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to fight your way out of here but were held back by a deep-rooted rule ingrained in you.

Voices taunted you, grating against your ears as if you could hear them for real.

No fighting.

Listen to what your master says.

If you so much as scratch one of us, we'll put you down.

This is the price of being the monster that you are.

You wanted to defend yourself. You wanted to stand up for yourself. But you couldn't no matter how much you willed your feet to move. Resigning yourself to your fate, your shoulders stopped shaking and your eyes glazed over.

Their hands inched closer to you, veiled threats barely concealed and you willed your claws to retract.

You're worthless.

You'll never be free.

You'll always be someone's pet.

That's all you'll ever be good for.

Something made contact with your hair but as quickly as it came, it left. You blinked, the haze diminishing as you registered someone standing in front of you. Your eyes widened as his familiar scent flooded your senses.

The growl that emitted from Ojiro's chest would've sent you running for the hills if he was directing it towards you.

"Back the hell off." He hissed at the three scumbags, livid and fuming, his stance broad and tail curling around you protectively. "If you so much as look at her again, I will bury you six feet under."

The threat was so unlike his calm and easygoing personality that you actually whimpered, mistaking his anger for them towards you instead and he relaxed his stance for your sake.

In that split second, the boldest one out of them all saw him letting down his guard as an opportunity and took it. His hand shot out, intent on hitting you where it hurt the most: your ears.

In a flash, he was being electrocuted by volts that would've burnt him to a crisp if Jirou didn't retract her earphone jack and Kaminari ceased his electricity surge in time. Both of them had on two different degrees of disdain, but their anger was palpable.

"I really wouldn't suggest doing that again." Jirou said, narrowing her eyes at them. "Unless of course, you want to die."

Kaminari smirked, but it looked more deadly than anything else, his hands still sparking. "Please don't come any closer to her. If you do, I won't be responsible for what happens after."

Not very hero-like behavior, but neither student could bring themselves to care at the moment.

The trio took one look at the group defending you, along with a man behind them whose eyes were burning red and capture weapon floating towards them menacingly, and fled like the cowards they were.

The broken sob that bubbled past your lips had Ojiro gathering you in his arms, hugging you tightly.

"I've got you, princess." He murmured, stroking your hair. "You're safe now."

You whimpered again, this time in a lot more pain than before. "H-Hurts..."

His brow furrowed, and then he saw the source of your pain. You were grasping the base of your tail with one hand, desperately rubbing it, trying to ease the little shockwaves of agony still shooting through it.

"O-Ojiro... I-I can't." You pleaded even though you didn't know what exactly you were asking for. "Please, h-help me..."

His hand snaked down your spine until you stiffened and his hand came to a stand still on your lower back, just above your tail.

"Right here?" He asked softly, caressing that spot gently.

You sighed, leaning against him fully as relief flooded over your body. You couldn't find it. There always was a spot that could alleviate pain but you had never been able to pinpoint it.

It changed for every injury, making it rather difficult. You were glad he was there. That they were all there.

Thank you. You wanted to say but you couldn't find your voice. I was saved by him again.

Stretching up on your tip-toes, you hesitantly scented him. When he crooked his head to the side further to make it easier to you, you did it more enthusiastically, taking comfort in him as he continued to ease your pain.

After a minute, he brushed the tears away from your face, examining you closely. "Better?"

Your eyes were glossy but it was more from relief than pain.

"Mmhm," You hummed quietly, still a bit shaky. "Thank you..."

He gently kissed the top of your head, not able to bring himself to say anything just yet. He wanted to scold you for going off on your own but he knew you already probably blamed yourself. Besides, he was the one most at fault for leaving you alone. However much he wanted to protect you, he still wanted to respect your wishes and give freedom and you had wanted to try and do this one thing by yourself.

Perhaps there was a way you could come to a compromise but that discussion could come later. He didn't trust himself to speak, only hugging you tighter.

In addition, he really only cared about your wellbeing. At least now, you were safe.

The four of you went over to where Aizawa was making sure the trio didn't come back, turning to face you as you meekly tugged on the back of his shirt.

"You alright, kid?" He asked, eyes dark with an intensity that took you slightly by surprised.

You shakily nodded your head, swallowing hard.

Aizawa's shoulders slumped in relief. Other than the dimming wild look in your eyes, you seemed to be okay.

He leaned over as Jirou and Kaminari seamlessly took up guard while he attended to you.

"Did you recognize them?" He asked you lowly, so that no one else but you and Ojiro heard him.

You shook your head again, more confident this time. "I... I don't think so."

You knew he was indirectly asking you if those boys had been Quirk Traffickers. Of course, he would figure it out eventually, being an underground hero and all. It didn't take a lot for that kind of information to circulate when someone messed up a mark.

He bit back a scowl, not wanting to alarm you any further than you already were. Distracting himself, he picked up the discarded scarf he had given you earlier, shaking it off before wrapping it around your neck. He always felt better when he could hide his face in his capture weapon, and while he didn't know if it would do the same for you, he wanted to try and give you some semblance of comfort.

Luckily, Ojiro's presence seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping you calm.

Aizawa questioned you a bit more. What they looked like, how they approached you and what they said to you specifically and you told him all that you could remember; which regrettably, wasn't a lot.

It all happened so fast.

As you talked with Aizawa, Ojiro was left with his thoughts.

There was one thing that didn't add up but he was too afraid to ask. When they left, your tail had been safely tucked away from sight underneath the oversized hoodie of his you were wearing. Now, it was out in the open and he had a feeling you didn't take it out by yourself.

Either they had forced you to, or they had forced themselves on you, and he was not willing to entertain that thought any longer.

"Y/N," He called quietly to get your attention and your ears swiveled to show that you heard him. "Your tail."

You tensed up and faced him, cocking your head to the side with a puzzled look on your face.

Ojiro gestured to where it was poking out from underneath the layers of cozy fabric. "You tucked it away, right?"

Your face grew bright red in embarrassment but as you stammered out it was because you had been so excited at the prospect of buying your own bed that it had wagged out of its confines by itself before you could contain it, relief broke out on his face.

So it wasn't because of any of the other things he had thought of, that was good.

Jirou and Kaminari approached you as Aizawa gave them the okay once he checked you over, expressions flooded with worry.

You hastily reassured them that they were okay and thanked them for coming when they did, an embarrassed flush creeping up your neck clueing them in on your shame at having to be rescued.

Kaminari was dense and didn't notice it right away but Jirou elbowed him in the side, glancing pointedly at how your ears were drooped and his eyes cleared in understanding.

You clutched onto the black scarf wrapped around your neck, breathing in deeply. Coffee clung to the soft fabric and it brought a smile to your face. It smelled just like your da— Aizawa.

Shoot.

The five of you milled around the store, seeking out what you had originally come here for.

Well, you and Ojiro walked with Jirou and Kaminari while Aizawa stationed himself at the door. Just in case those boys decided to be dumb and come back.

You didn't know how you ended up smushed between Ojiro and Jirou with Kaminari in front of you, walking backwards so that he could talk to you, and yet, here you were.

Kaminari waved his hands frantically to keep your attention when your eyes strayed to a tag attached to a fancy pillowcase. He was currently in the middle of a mild breakdown now that it was all over.

"We got worried when you didn't show up, so we went to go look for you!!" He shouted, gesturing wildly to nothing in particular.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jirou asked worriedly for the tenth time in the last five minutes but you weren't bothered by the repetition.

In fact, you felt rather touched that they cared so much.

You nodded, thanking them for protecting you again before curiously asking how they managed to find you so fast.

Before Jirou even got a chance to explain her quirk to you, Kaminari was interjecting, making broad and expressive hand gestures to gush about her abilities and your eyes filled with awe, as if you were hearing about one of the top heroes who had just won a battle against a villain.

Jirou turned away, obviously embarrassed by the pikachu's telling of the tale but you caught a small smile on her face and thanked her once more.

"I'm glad you're safe now." Was all she said before folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the nearest wall.

From here, she was within eyesight of Aizawa, since the three of you were heading towards another part of the store that he would be unable to see. Acting as a middleman, she pulled out her phone to entertain herself while she waited for you to finish getting what you needed.

Ojiro shook his head, amused as Kaminari took no notice of Jirou's departure and rambled on, taking you through all of the quirks that their classmates in Class 1-A had.

You nodded your head along eagerly, excitement seeping in and replacing the fear that had gripped your chest earlier.

Ojiro had to admit, he was sure Aizawa was going to chew them out for using their quirks without explicit permission, since it was a rule everyone had to abide by, but he was surprised when he didn't. The teenager had a feeling though that it was just pushed back until you were out of range to hear his scolding, since it would probably just serve to pile on the guilt more if he wasn't careful.

Still, he thought he saw a flash of pride in his teacher's eyes as they stood up for you. Maybe it had been his imagination.

Your eyes were starting to shimmer once again and your tail wagged as you spotted what you had been looking for all along.

Ojiro made sure to stay by your side, your hand in his as he twisted around, spotting Jirou striding towards you guys with Aizawa in tow.

"Uh, Y/N?" Kaminari's questioning tone made your ears perk up. "Why are we in the dog's section? I know you're part dog but isn't that a little—"

He cut off with a yelp as Jirou smacked him over the head for saying something so insensitive. But even she was dumbfounded when you beamed, holding up a medium-sized box proudly.

"Um, Y/N? You do know that's an inflatable dog bed, right?" Jirou asked cautiously, growing even more confused when you nodded enthusiastically. "I'm not sure that's—"

"That can't be your bed!!" Kaminari blurted out, incredulous.

You would barely fit on it, let alone the fact that it would be extremely uncomfortable. How would a pillow even stay on it?! Or blankets?!

Not to mention, static cling was the worst on these things.

Ojiro frowned sadly, hoping that this wasn't what they all thought it was. "Y/N?"

Your eyes were downcast and he tipped your chin up to him, his gaze sympathetic.

"What is it?" He inquired, not beating around the bush as he brushed a thumb against your cheek.

"I... I don't have a lot of money." You confessed and tensed after hearing a sharp intake of breath from Jirou. "All I have is just enough for this. I'm thankful I can even get this much."

Ojiro's horrified to hear you speaking like this. Like you were used to being devoid of simple necessities.

"I'll pay for it." He rushed out, gripping your shoulders, his tail jerking behind him. "Pick something more suitable, alright? You can choose whatever."

Sure, he could afford it. Since being enrolled in the prestigious hero school, he had saved up a lot of money and hadn't spent any of it. UA covered all of their expenses for food and housing, so this was the least he could do for you.

Your eyes went wide. "I can't let you do that!!"

He opened his mouth to insist when someone beat him to it.

"He can't but I can."

Aizawa stuffed his hands in his pants, shrugging nonchalantly as his students and foster daughter regarded him in shock. He may or may not overheard your conversation due thanks to Jirou's help.

"Go ahead but try not to take too long. We don't want to linger here." He jabbed a finger towards the entrance. "I'm going to keep watch to make sure they don't come back. Can I trust you three to watch over Y/N?"

"Yes, sir!!" They all chorused together.

You hesitantly browsed the shelves as he left you to it, making you promise to come and get him when you were ready to checkout.

"Ojiro-kun, is this really okay?" You asked timidly, playing with your fluffy tail self-consciously.

It was too sensitive for you to tuck away and you were growing nervous at how many people were staring at you. You exhaled shakily as he carefully intertwined his fingers with yours and tilted his neck, encouraging you to scent him.

You did so without much prompting, growing lax at his comforting scent washed over you.

"Aizawa-sensei wouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it." He told you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'm sure he meant every word."

After wandering around aimlessly and getting distracted by the littlest things, Ojiro had to tug on your hand more than once to keep you on track. As much as he wanted to let you roam free, he did not want a repeat of what happened earlier. He would feel better once they went to a different store.

You, on the other hand, were forgetting the situation you had just been through and were throwing yourself into the hobby that was shopping, the new experience thrilling and exciting once you didn't have to be too worried about being cornered again thanks to their presence.

Kaminari was actually the one to find foldable cots, small and suitable for your room, not to mention, cost efficient. You eagerly enlisted his help in picking out one with a sturdy metal frame while Jirou selected a plush pad that you could store easily, making it easy to transport back to the dorm.

Ojiro found a comfy pillow for you and that marked the end of your little haul for this store.

At the register, Aizawa mysteriously showed up right on time to pay, even though Ojiro already had his wallet out and was ready to take care of it.

You giggled, poking his cheek as your tail batted his playfully. "Don't be sad, Ojiro-kun."

Yelping as he twined his tail around your waist to draw you close, you blushed as you felt his breath right by your ear.

"By the end of today, I will buy you something and you can't refuse it, okay?" He chuckled as you stared up at him cluelessly. "Consider it a welcome home gift."

You blushed, shyly thanking the cashier for your things and grabbing your bags. "A welcome home gift?"

He nodded, escorting you out of the store, the other two and Aizawa falling in step behind the four of you. "Since you're going to be staying with us now, we'll make sure you get a warm welcome."

Kaminari's eyes lit up excitedly and he nudged Jirou in the ribs. She rolled her eyes but even though she didn't show it as clearly, she most definitely matched his enthusiasm. They were both excited you were going to be staying with them for the foreseeable future.

Wait until they told the others.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

38 notes · View notes

anxiouslyfred · 4 years ago

Text

Unofficial Bar Security

Summary: Remus likes fighting and has gotten known at his local bar as someone who will fight anyone with bigoted views. He just hopes that his marks don’t mean he’ll meet his soulmate by fighting them

warnings: sexism mentions, homophobia and racism mentions, bar fight

/\/\

Remus enjoyed fighting. He always had and it had only gotten worse when he realised how many bigoted self-absorbed bastards there were around, all to ready to lecture, insult or attack him because of the pride badges he wore, or just because he didn't care about wearing popular fashions.

When the bar he liked going to most often started doing specials and hosting events for Pride month or to support the Black Lives Matter movement, Remus was already on watch for anybody causing trouble. In fact he basically became a voluntary security guard given the owners and staff had assured him that any fights started because someone had been racist or queerphobic towards any labels wouldn't get him thrown out. That was basically permission given to Remus to insert himself into any situation he liked and get into additional fights.

The main reason he even thought curiously about getting into fights was that he was fairly sure however he met his soulmate was going to include him grabbing them. He could only hope that was a grab to get them out of a fight rather than starting one with them. It seemed likely given the lighter skin covered his hands and a line down his chest which no matter how many play fights Remus had instigated with his brother couldn't easily be used to attack, only capture and possibly defend as a body shield.

He had visions of meeting them in the bar, possibly someone getting harassed by the one racist group that refused to get the point that their views weren't welcome, and just grabbing them out of the way. There could even still be a fight once he got them out of the way, to show how skilled he is at them.

Remus dismissed the daydreams from his mind, taking another sip of his beer and glancing around the bar. The group of pests was back again, but they seemed to be being quiet for the time being. There were a few groups of teenagers from out of town, probably on a road trip together or something for the summer.

There was a fabulous fellow just waiting at the bar, and looking more than a little uncomfortable. They seemed a bit out of place, hunching into their hoodie and glancing around at the various groups cheering and laughing together. Remus had to watch for a while, just taking in the lithe form and wary posture. Either this was someone who had been forced to come with their friends or had come out for some space from a bad situation.

Still Remus wouldn't mind on getting his hands on that bum, or offering to keep their company for a while. There was only so much control one could have while waiting for their soulmate and Remus would happily let it go for an adorable... fighter? While he'd been watching the person they must have heard something from the abuse gang and was already glaring and stepping over to them.

Just was the frantic gestures Remus had to move closer, ready to act whether to help or just get the person out of there was yet to be determined. The group had been in the bar longer than normal without causing trouble and tended to react worse the more alcohol they'd had, which could be very bad for the person Remus had been watching.

Whatever was being said was getting hissed too quietly for him to make out the words, but the reaction was obvious. The men that had been laughing together and judging everyone else had started off falling silent but now were all standing, scowling and trying to get out from the table in order to surround the person. Remus barely thought the instant one raised an empty bottle as though about to break it.

The noise of yelling and glass breaking broke out just as he grabbed the person, one hand aiming for their shoulder but hooking around the neck, the other for their bum as Remus pushed into them, the momentum taking them into a booth next to where the guys were getting out from.

“Security! These guys are attempting to attack us with a broken glass! They've been making racist and homophobic comments all evening too!” He turned to yell after checking the person hadn't hit anything in the action. There were battles Remus would love to fight, but the chances of someone completely uninvolved getting hurt with broken glass being used as a weapon was far too high. Plus hopefully if security got involved then the group would be banned forever this time.

From the faces now directed towards him it was obvious they all realised it too. He might be the volunteer unofficial security against bigoted people but as soon as he was calling for the people paid for the role, they weren't likely to be coming back again. Still Remus paid attention to what was happening, using his body to block the fascinating person behind him in case any of them tried anything now. The cameras in the place would show what had happened and his own reports that had been recorded after the previous few fights they'd had should be more than enough to identify them if they tried coming back.

Eventually though he turned back to face the person, hoodie now discarded to the side of them as they were trying to look at the side he'd tackled them from. “Are you okay? Sorry for tacking you, but those guys are some nasty work I've been trying to teach to be better with my fists for weeks. Didn't know what else to do when one raised the bottle.”

They startled, turning to him with a stunned expression, before raising their hand up to their neck. “Yeah, yeah, I'm good, I guess. Um, are your hands...?” They broke off, looking at Remus as though they were torn between finishing the question and ignoring it. Their actions had already made Remus realise that their neck now had a neon green hand print on it though.

Raising his hands up for them both to look he burst out laughing to see they'd turned violet, but just to be sure he was dragging his top and jacket off to look at the pale line on his chest, now a matching purple to his hands. “Oh my god! I actually did that trying to protect you! I mean I hoped, I hoped so much, cause body connections like that are kinda weird to get but with all the fights I've been in I was still worried.”

“I mean that's a better worry than I had. Everyone said one of these marks had to be a birthmark and if they could only see the neck that my soulmate is going to try to suffocate me the first time we touch.” Their voice was shaky, and they were watching Remus as though expecting some kind of bad reaction to his soulmate being them.

“Never. Besides that's like the least interesting way for someone to die. I've got books and books about how different deaths are interesting and suffocation just isn't that good.” he had calmed a little at the mention, reaching out to stroke over their neck for a moment before realising he still knew nothing about this person, and they knew nothing about him in return. “I'm Remus, by the way, and you are fascinatingly dark. He/him pronouns if you will. Can I know my soulmates name and pronouns, or even just whatever battle led you to telling those jerks off?”

“Virgil and he/him too, currently. I'll let you know when they change. And those guys were making the girls close to where I was stood with the catcalling and jeers they made. I might not know them but nobody should have to hear the vile things they were talking about when they just wanted to have a night out.” Virgil nodded, tugging a pronoun wristband out from the sleeve of his top so it could be seen.

Remus snickered a little. “I have done the same before. Got standing permission to get into fights if people say hate filled things or encourage discrimination while I'm here.”

“What – what do you want to do now? About the soulmates thing, I mean?” Virgil asked, gaze following Remus's hands as he bounced them a bit.

That felt like a loaded question, and just from the way Virgil was shifting in his seat Remus could see he was anxious about the answer. There was a lot of pressure from society over how soulmates should act together, but it all felt pretty meaningless to him. “Get to know you preferably. I'm not jumping into settling down with a complete stranger no matter how cute your butt is, but we could practise fighting together? Message online or something?”

“Thank god. I did not want to jump into soulmates means we have to be joint at the hip thing either. It sounds socially exhausting just thinking about it.” Virgil sighed, giving the distinct impression that if Remus had wanted it he would have gone along with it all for his sake. “It does sound like fun to practise wrestling with you. Where do you train?”

Remus had always enjoyed fighting. He was just ecstatic to know that he didn't meet his soulmate by fighting them.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #bar fights #tw sexism #tw homophobia mention #tw racism mention

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tmntgirlie · 4 years ago

Text

Saviors in a Half Shell 5

“Let me get this straight. You guys were the ones who really saved the city? Twice?”

The commotion had made national news headlines for weeks years ago. The most recent occurrence was five years ago, way before Y/N had made her way to the city.

It was the sort of thing that led to many online conspiracy theories, but none of them had any solid evidence. The media led people to believe it was a man named Vernon Fenwick, who had subsequently called himself ‘the Falcon’.

How obnoxious.

“We knew we wouldn’t be accepted by the general public, and he just so happened to be working with us- it made sense,” Leonardo shrugged.

“People are so gullible,” she snorted. She shook her head. “Even I had a feeling he couldn’t have taken that thing down without help. I mean, one man? Unless it was dumb luck. I’m still trying to understand why someone wants to take over a city. A single city. What, turn it into his kingdom? He knows there are bigger and better cities out there, right?”

“Bigger and better? Oh, man! We have been so busy saving this city, we haven’t been able to finish our hip-hop Christmas album!” Mikey couldn’t have sounded more pitiful.

Y/N laughed. “I’d love to hear you guys try to rap Silent Night. Ninjas and all.”

Right as Michelangelo opened his mouth to give her a proper demonstration, he was pushed over by his red-banded brother.

“Someone’s a party pooper.”

“I just spared your eardrums,” Raph said, looking quite pleased with himself.

“What a sweetheart,” Y/N said through a snort. These guys were definitely brothers, the way they treated each other.

“Speaking of sweethearts,” Mikey grinned. “What are you going to do now? Now that you know us and all. You gonna stay here for good?”

“Mikey-” Raph growled.

Y/N just shook her head. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn I should probably get back to at some point. And a job.”

“Do you think you’re ready to get back to all that?” Leonardo asked her quietly. He still wasn’t sure what pushed you so far towards the edge- depression, that was pretty clear. Was there a more specific reason?

She shrugged again. “Have to sooner or later. It comes and goes. Good days, bad days, you know?” She looked around the room with a small smile. “Plus, if I go back to… All that, and I feel like it’s all going down the drain again- well, you guys make a mean cup of tea.”

The brothers looked between each other. It was obvious they all felt some type of way to hear that she was leaving. They had known this woman for less than twenty-four hours, and yet the thought of her leaving them left them feeling empty. She was one more human that accepted them for who they were. She didn’t run, she didn’t scream, she just accepted it.

“I took the liberty of adding our numbers to your phone,” Donatello said finally. “In case you ever need us for any reason.”

“Need a cup of tea, an escape, a friend-”

“-Boyfriend-” Mikey cut in.

Raph wasted no time knocking him over completely this time.

“I don’t think I could handle you, Michelangelo,” Y/N gave him a small smile. “You remind me of me when I was younger.”

Mikey got to his feet, dusting off his thighs. “How old are you again?”

She grinned. “Twenty-one, legal drinking age.”

He shook his head in confusion. “We’re older than you.”

“I really can’t thank you guys enough for this,” Y/N said, ignoring Mikey’s statement. “Especially you two.” She looked between Raphael and Leonardo. “Especially you two. And the Thai food of course.”

It felt like it had been an eternity since she left. It was almost dusk, it had really only been hours. Donatello gave her an extremely detailed map of the sewers, including the streets they followed, in case she wanted to come down by herself. They all figured she’d just ask for an escort, but in case she didn’t feel like it.

“And as soon as she comes into our lives, she leaves,” Michelangelo said through a dramatic sigh. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“She’ll be alright,” Donatello said. “I added multiple suicide hotlines and therapists to her phone when I added us.”

“She can’t just stay here forever,” Raphael grunted. “She lives up top, she belongs up there. April and Casey don’t live their lives down here with us, do they? No, they live up top with the other humans.”

Leonardo stayed quiet. They were right- she belonged up there with the other humans. She had a job, an apartment, a life- they were just four turtles that lived in the shadows. They saved her from a mistake she couldn’t go back from. What she did now was up to her.

“Maybe we should check on her tonight!” Mikey said, disrupting Leonardo from his thoughts. “Don, you got her address, right?”

“You think I’d let her leave without knowing where to find her? Do you even know me?” Donatello let out a ‘pfft’. “I have her address, her workplace, her social media profiles.”

“Isn’t that going a little too far?” Leonardo said.

“It’s all for her safety!” Mikey argued, even though the question obviously wasn’t pointed towards him.

Leonardo sighed. “Fine. We can check on her tonight.”

He tried to convince himself it was for his brothers’ sake.

“Since you did all that research on her, might as well not put it to waste. Whadoya got, Donnie?” Raph asked as he plopped back down on the couch.

Donnie pushed up his goggles, more for effect than anything. They were quite literally strapped to his head. “According to all of her profiles, she was born in Iowa and moved here a year and a half ago. No listed family members. Says here that she works for herself, doesn’t say what, but I’m seeing a portfolio right here with a bunch of different headshots.”

Mikey made his way over to Donnie’s corner, squinting at the screens. “Maybe she’s a professional photographer. Do you think she could shoot the music video for our Christmas album?”

“I have a feeling it’s more of what’s in the picture that is her job,” Donnie said slowly. “My money’s on makeup or hair.”

“What do you know about that stuff?” Raph questioned.

“Hey, if it was a photography portfolio, you’d definitely see more variety than just heads,” Donnie replied, rolling his eyes.

“Too bad we don’t need a new hairdresser,” Raph snorted, running his hand over his bald head. “Alopecia right here.”

“We’re turtles, we don’t grow hair in the first place.”

“It was a joke, Don.”

“It wasn’t a very thought out joke.”

By that point, Leonardo was no longer paying attention to his brothers. He was no judge of skills with hair, but these pictures didn’t look half bad. Maybe he needed to pay attention to pop culture a bit more to understand. Was she dissatisfied with her work?

She hadn’t mentioned a roommate. He figured she lived alone. Leo recalled April saying how expensive it was to have your own apartment in any part of New York. She couldn’t have been that bad at her job to be able to live on her own.

His thoughts were disrupted when he felt his phone buzz.

Miss me yet? - Y/N

He frowned, looking down at the screen. It had only been hours.

You guys seriously messed up my sleep schedule, I’m wide awake and it’s almost nine at night. - Y/N

Oh yeah? Almost time for us to get to work - Leonardo

Ah, the night shift. Latest I’ve worked was probably until two. I didn’t want to even think about waking up the next morning. - Y/N

You work that late? - Leonardo

I had no idea this client was going to take me eight hours. We were almost sick of each other by the end of it. - Y/N

Maybe Donnie was right. He had no frame of reference for photography, but that seemed late. Did hair related things take that long?

I’ll let you get back to work. Maybe you’ll even save another damsel tonight. - Y/N

Let’s hope I don’t have to - Leonardo

He wasn’t sure his brothers could handle two humans in twenty-four hours. Mikey would go crazy.

“Leonardo? Earth to Leonardo?”

He bounced back into reality. “What did I miss?”

“Um, our entire conversation?” Mikey said, poking him on the shoulder. “It’s your head that’s in the clouds today.”

He sighed. “What, then?”

“April says she has a lead on the Purple Dragons,” Donnie said, turning towards them. “They’re hitting several spots tonight. We need to get going.”

“Alright, you know the drill,” Leonardo said loudly. “What are we waiting for?”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Meanwhile, Y/N was settling back into her apartment. She regretted leaving it in such a mess the night before. It had taken her until now to finally get it straightened up enough to have company.

Not that she was expecting company.

She let out a small sigh as she placed a mug of tepid water in the microwave. She briefly recalled the events that ensued in the past twenty-four hours.

She did not wake up yesterday thinking she was going to get that close. It had taken all of her courage to even stand on that ledge. Heights were not her friend, ever since she was a child. Maybe it wasn’t the fear of heights so much as it was the fear of falling.

It didn’t make sense that it was her chosen method.

She shook her head quickly. No, those were not the kind of thoughts she needed. Not this soon.

Truth be told, it was hard to live in a city such as New York. It was so easy to get carried away with the hustle and bustle the city was known for. Even on her daily walk to the shop, she felt like a tiny speck in the big picture. Nobody gave her a smile, nobody even looked at her. It wasn’t what she was used to.

Hell, back in the Midwest, people smiled at strangers as they passed them on the road. They waved to people driving tractors, and were even pleasant if one was going ten miles per hour. But here?

If you so much as stopped on the sidewalk, you were given death glares and knew people wished you didn’t exist in that moment.

Maybe she wasn’t meant to stay here.

It was almost every hairstylist’s dream. If you could make it in New York, you really made it. It was a cherry on top if you ended up catering to hair shows, took on a sponsorship for various brands. If you made it in New York, you could even create your own line of color and hair products.

Two and a half years after gaining her license in hairdressing, it just wasn’t what she expected. The hair was great, that wasn’t the problem. The environment drained her. She wasn’t sure if it was worth the heartache.

But those four brothers…

“Maybe I should check in on them,” she told herself.

The microwave began to beep. She reached in to pull the hopefully hot water-filled mug and gasped when the ceramic burnt at her skin. No, she’d give that a minute to cool off, actually.

She glanced over at her phone, it was dangerously close to falling off the edge of the couch. Y/N made her way over and unlocked it with her fingerprint. As she did so, she quietly wondered how Donatello managed to get into it in the first place.

In fact, their four names were now listed as her emergency contact numbers. They were even color coded, not that she needed a reminder on who was who. She decided to text Leo.

Miss me yet? - Y/N

After thinking for another second, she sent another text. Hopefully they weren’t weird about double-texting.

You guys seriously messed up my sleep schedule, I’m wide awake and it’s almost nine at night. - Y/N

It wasn’t completely true, she didn’t typically go to bed until midnight or so. There was no harm in friendly banter, right?

She set her phone back down, on the counter this time, and went to check on her mug of hopefully no longer boiling hot water. Before her fingers even touched it, it dinged.

Oh yeah? Almost time for us to get to work - Leonardo

She looked at the message for a while, her mug of tea leaf-less water all but forgotten.

Ah, the night shift. Latest I’ve worked was probably until two. I didn’t want to even think about waking up the next morning. - Y/N

You work that late? - Leonardo

Did I ever tell them what I did for a living?

Not that it would really matter to them. They obviously didn’t need a beautician.

The hair thing, she was definitely referring to the hair thing. Turtles didn’t have hair. Not that she saw, anyway-

Y/N, I swear, they’re fuckin’ turtles. Of course they don’t have hair anywhere.

I had no idea this client was going to take me eight hours. We were almost sick of each other by the end of it. - Y/N

She remembered that night well. It was actually one of her first clients that she ever got since moving to the Big Apple. And boy, was this girl loyal. She bought product every time, tipped well, even consulted for possible wigs. Y/N wasn’t sure why she would want wigs, she had beautiful hair, but she wasn’t about to judge. That was money.

Plus, she worked for some TV station local to New York. This client was a dream client.

As soon as she sent the message, she groaned. He probably didn’t even care to hear about that kind of stuff. He was probably busy anyway. You know, saving the city.

I’ll let you get back to work. Maybe you’ll even save another damsel tonight. - Y/N

She had to admit, knowing she was the first person they’d saved in such a way made her feel special. Sure, it was the worst possible circumstance, but… In her mind, it was almost like fate. They were different, but they accepted her into their home so easily. They knew she needed help and didn’t hesitate to try their best. They gave her a safe space to sleep, away from her own world. It gave her time to clear her head. Maybe the meditating had something to do with it.

Let’s hope I don’t have to - Leonardo

For some reason, the last message didn’t hit quite right with her. It suddenly drew her back.

Just make some tea, Y/N. Light some candles. Deep breaths.

The last thing she wanted was to be a burden to these four new beings in her life she’d love to consider her first real friends in the city. She crossed her fingers that he didn’t mean his words the way she took them.

Candles lit, tea freshly brewed (and with a chunk of ice for good measure), Y/N settled down on the couch with an oversized blanket and decided to watch something on TV. That’d clear her mind.

“April’s hair does look so good,” she mumbled to herself with a smile, the first thing on TV was the nightly news. “Good job, me.”

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2k14 #tmnt 2k16 #adult turtles #reader insert #tmnt reader inesrt #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagines #leonardo tmnt #tmnt leonardo #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse

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fumingspice · 4 years ago

Text

guardians

original work! im bored to death and i have nothing much to do so i guess maybe i could post this and see if people like it or not. mallorie whyte is sarah paulson 🤜👱🏻‍♀️

01 | oakwood academy

october 24th 2022

eli, ma. andromadex

-Madison

THE FINAL WORDS that Madison's stepmother Inez had jokingly yelled out the car window at her before she sped off to work were fairly sticking with her all throughout the day. She had driven at neck-breaking speed as she often had a habit of doing, and then braked so hard that she probably would have given any other passenger in the car a pretty bad whiplash, which Madison was convinced that Inez is immune to it by now, and then rolled down her window and told her; "y’know, if you want to actually make some friends you should really quit acting so bitchy."

Mind you, this was after she had gone on at her for days on end about being herself.

Madison was not opposed to making friends at this school. She wanted to. It's just so difficult when the fantastic, gold-crested reputation of your parents follows you around everywhere you go, and it's even worse when everyone else in your school completely matches that reputation.

To her, there's nothing worse than extra-cred class. She could promise you that. Especially when there are only fifteen more minutes left of the school day until the school bell rang sweet salvation and the students were released from the clutches school for another day. The classroom was decorated in crisp oranges, reds, yellows and browns; and the smothering scent of the ten-plus pumpkin spice candles could probably be smelt from miles away.

Madison's teacher, Ms. DuBois, was from Salem, and she loved nothing more than talking about witches in Salem. DuBois continued to rattle on about the executions that took place during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692- and since they were in Eli and not Salem, Madison could not fathom a single plausible reason as to why her extra-cred class had decided to adopt the Salem Witch Trials.

Oakwood Academy, Madison's new school, had managed to work its way to having one of the top academic records in America by providing an extra area of study for every year that a student attended. It was just one of the classes that would act as a "relaxer" for the workload that the Academy dumped on their students. They allocated five sets of twenty-five students to five different classes. For example; her older brother was allocated into a class that studied some of history's most famous serial criminals. The girl had been hit with a low-key pang of jealousy when she looked at his workbook, but she would never admit that.

Serial killer documentaries from Buzzfeed Unsolved was for her what World War II was to her brother Tiano.

Halfway through the class, Madison decided that Ms DuBois' babbles were nothing more than folklore and legends. There is no possible way that witches could exist, and even if they did; they would have become so sparsely spread out throughout the centuries that bloodlines would have become diluted into non-existence.

Madison had finally just about given up listening, getting ready to switch to her earphones when DuBois began talking about Gwendoline Proctor and Marie-Anne Dufosett. Judging by the amount of borderline useless word scrambles and pop quizzes that she had been bombarded with since August in which their names had popped up in, this would no doubt be just as bleak as the rest of the topic.

"Marie-Anne Dufosett was burned at the stake along with her mother and some other accused women-"

Well, that's just peachy.

"-However, does anybody know who accused Mademoiselle Dufosett of Witchcraft and Conspiring with the Devil?"

A few hands shot up. Oh, great, Madison thought, another room full of Hocus Pocus lovers.

DuBois picked on a boy at the back of the room wearing a black turtleneck underneath his blazer. "Perrone Goguillon," he answered.

Well, at least I know that instead of how to pay taxes.

Ms DuBois clapped her hands together and was about to praise him when Madison poked her head up and blurted out, "who in fresh hell is Peregrine Goujon?" The class burst into a peal of abrupt laughter and her face flashed a red that was possibly close to her burgundy uniform.

DuBois waited patiently for the laughter to die down, giving Madison a well-intended smile. She'd been trying to pry Madison out of her shell for weeks. "Miss Delvaux, I'm so happy that we've finally been graced with your conscious presence," she said. "Perrone Goguillon was one of the last witches to burnt at the stake in France."

What has that got to do with Salem?

There was a pause.

Turtleneck Boy piped up yet again. "Wasn't Perrone Marie-Anne's mother?"

Ms DuBois nodded, what followed probably should have been a moment for shock factor was cut short by Madison's unimpressive comment of; "Sounds like someone gained some serious mommy-issues."

Apart from a few smirks and sniggers, the room stayed in a star awkward silence. It was that moment when Madison had realised that making fun of witches in this classroom was possibly as close as you could get to treason.

The bell finally rang out before Madison could embarrass herself any further. She pulled on her coat and started speed-walking to get out of the school. She found listening to Toxic by Britney Speers always made her faster.

The crisp Massachusetts air stung at her cheeks hard, nipping at them until they were a hard red. The leaves crunched with a prominent sound and the wind blew quite fiercely. She hated fall- she missed the sweet Florida summer and sunshine that she had become so accustomed to. She missed splashing about in their swimming pool with her friends, sitting on her boyfriend's shoulders and having matches of pool basketball. They could get very competitive and Madison was certainly no stranger to having her head pushed underwater for the sake of one of her friends scoring a goal.

Her family had just moved to Massachusetts for her stepmother's work, as they often had moved around for that reason numerous times in the past. Inez worked with companies that were hanging on the edge of bankruptcy. A quick call to her office and she would work on the case as soon as possible. Most cases she could work on from home or online, but every few years a huge opportunity or promotion would come up that would require a move. It was always worth it. Inez was a wizard with a logbook and her incredible finances knowledge; she would advise the company and work with as many people as possible to save the company and boost its profits massively.

The job also came with a pretty hefty paycheck. Inez had been in Madison's life for as long as the girl could recall memory.

Now that the latest- and hopefully final- addition to the Delvaux family had come, Madison's father spent most of his time at home taking care of baby Thomas. In contrast to Inez, Madison's father came from a long line of "old" money; decades ago, his family was incredibly wealthy Franco-Belgian gold merchants, owning around 40% of the most flourishing gold mines in Belgium and France of which together bestowed them with a huge amount of the finest Belgian gold. Although the number of which lowered to about 750 tons of gold, the family net worth was still well into the billions.

Madison's father broke away from the complete gold-mine owning tradition and earned a job as a professor of physics in certain prestigious colleges across the country, although, there were still plenty of goldmines still to his name.

However, despite their needless fortune, most of the family, along with Inez, managed to stay incorrupt, helping to build many schools, hospitals and jobs in developing countries and donating thousands of millions of dollars to charities, side-lining with the Delvaux-Proveux Foundation to help create a better society with whatever difference they could cause.

Her parents did their best to remain humble- which sometimes proved itself difficult when the next five generations of their family could probably eat from solid gold plates if they chose to.

Needless to say, they spent only what they needed to, didn't exploit their riches, lived in the slightly more luxurious suburban homes. Madison was sent to Oakwood Academy; possibly the most unnecessarily expensive school in the north-east of America along with her adopted older brother Tiano and her adopted little sister Safina; the second youngest, Aleja went to an elementary not far from their home, and baby Thomas just did his best not to poop his pants straight after his diaper had been changed. Madison was convinced he did his best to poop at the worst possible time.

The house they had recently moved into was a beautiful country mansion, overlooking a lake and meadows, the balcony that showed a complete view of the landscape was perhaps Madison's favourite part of the house- apart from her bed of course.

She walked briskly up the pathway leading to the front door, doing her best to not show that she was absolutely freezing to death despite the massive coat. No sooner had she got in the door that she turned the heater on full blast and ran upstairs, diving into her bed.

Inconveniently, she was now too warm.

Madison rolled her eyes and then rolled out of bed with a slight thud, ran downstairs, lowered the heating, then ran back upstairs again- now at a slightly more satisfactory temperature. Her phone began to buzz; an incoming facetime from her friends back in Florida.

Madison jumped up promptly, fixing her hair and trying to make it look like she wasn't considering an attempt at home-made abseiling down the wall beneath her window. She accepted the call and lo and behold the screams and squeals of five of her best friends burst from the phone from on the other side of the country. Meghan, the girl in front and centre, called out Madison's name with an ear-piercing screech.

"Woah, Woah. Calm down, Meghan I'm not hoping to go deaf anytime soon," she muttered, pretending to be annoyed, making a particular fuss of changing the settings on her hearing aid. Meghan playfully rolled her eyes and began talking over the other girls.

"Oh, shut up, Maddie. How's Massachusetts? Find any cute warlocks that we need to come out and see?" She asked.

"Meghan, this place is amazing and beautiful- there's so many other things here than witches and warlocks and Harvard's array of nerds," she said, pretending she didn't want to hop on her tricycle and go home.

To be truthful, it was obvious that Meghan could see straight through the blatant lie.

"Well, if you say so, babes. Give us a tour of your house! We need to see chez Madison after stalking it for an hour on Google Maps."

Madison gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, if you insist."

Madison began her own rendition of a virtual tour around her house, showing everything from the luxury bathrooms to the heated pool in the basement. The ooooooo's and ahhhhhhhhh's were constant. The house was beautiful- that was undeniable. However, the crowning glory of the house was a massive stain-glass window depicting a woman by the lake.

"The realtors said that the builder of the house had it built in 1876 to memorialize the women persecuted and killed during the witch trials," Madison said, admiring the beautiful display of colours on the floor from the sun shining through the window.

"That's cheery."

That's typical Meghan.

"Now, more important than your sexy house; are you or are you not coming to prom?" Meghan asked, expectantly.

Madison shrugged, "I'm not sure, we only just got here, and I don't think my parents would want me flying across the country all by myself."

Meghan let out a slightly satisfied sigh. "So, does that mean Dylan is now free for me to take as my date?"

Madison gritted her teeth hard. Only forever has Meghan been trying to steal Dylan away from her. "Sure, as long as it's just as friends," she answered, fully emphasizing the word "friends".

Meghan laughed emptily. "Well, how else would I be taking him? Trust me, Maddie baby, if I wanted Dylan so bad, I would've gotten him months ago." There was a coy smile and awkward glances shared by the others.

Madison bit her tongue.

"Yeah?" She called out into the empty house. "Coming now, Nez!" She looked back at the screen, told them, "talk later, gals, Nez wants me to help her in the basement," and hung up without waiting for a response, already knowing that Meghan would be commenting on how strange she was acting.

Madison and Meghan had been stuck to each other's waist since pre-school, grew up in close neighborhoods, and had practically been raised together. One time, Madison's family took Meghan to Disney Land, then straight to Universal Studios after. To say they were spoiled rotten in childhood because of the Delvaux family wealth was an understatement. It was only now approaching adult years was Meghan taking full advantage of her best friend's wealth- hinting off about getting her into Yale or Harvard, Madison smiled and nodded when she brought these things up, knowing full well Meghan didn't hold enough brain cells to even use a dishwasher.

The jangle of keys and the opening of the door sounded from downstairs. "The party's home! Maddie honey, you here?" Inez called, audibly struggling with grocery bags. "Coming!" she called back, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time. Inez relieved herself of one of the six bags she had carried from the car.

"When are you going to learn to walk down the stairs without the risk of breaking your damn neck?" she asked, walking to the kitchen and setting half of the bags on the counter, and doing the same with Maddie's bags. Madison laughed and shook her head, "when we confirm that the birds don't work for the bourgeoisie."

Inez rolled her eyes and pulled Madison into a hug. "Well, in that case, I may as well buy a neck brace and put the hospital on speed dial."

Madison gave a real laugh this time and pulled away, throwing a damp washcloth at Inez's face. "Megan facetimed me earlier with Linda, Karlie, Houston, Seoul and London.

Inez pulled a face, "yeah, and how did that turn out?" Madison sighed, "she asked me if she could take Dylan to prom."

Her stepmom stopped unpacking and lurched into deep thought. "Why are all your friends named after cities?" Madison was about to continue when she stopped to think about the question.

"Back to the topic, Nez."

Inez’s eyes widened in shock. "She did not, did she?" Madison nodded carefully, bracing herself for Inez launching into a huge monologue, as she often did when something morally wrong happened. "After everything that we've done for that girl- everything that you've done for that girl, this is how she repays you?" Inez barely stopped to breathe. "She has known about our plans to move here since last Summer! The sneaky little bug kept this behind your back and knew it would be safe to tell you that she was going to steal Dylan from you as soon as you were a safe distance away-"

Madison promptly stopped her, knowing this could and would go on all night. "I'm not as bothered as I should be, Nez. Dylan and I were drifting even before the move. I think this is just my final sign that we just aren't meant to be- God, I always knew nothing serious would become of Dylan and me," she admitted, sipping on a diet coke that Inez had just slid down the countertop. Her stepmother pursed her lips, her incredible dark brown eyes glazing over as they always did when she fell deep into thought, as Madison often admired them doing so when she was trying to find a solution to a particularly difficult business situation, then, within seconds, bounced back out of it once again.

Inez presented an envelope to Madison, addressed to her. "Well, this might bring your spirits up at least," she placed in front of Madison. "I just know it is what it is."

Madison's jaw dropped as she read the letter.

Months ago, while they still lived in Florida, Madison's tutor convinced her to take part in a writing competition. The competition was hosted by one of New York's most prestigious publication companies, namely by their founder; Mallorie Whyte, possibly one of the most sought after and revered journalists in the Western Hemisphere. Madison completely worshipped the woman. Whyte being a first generation French American was the main factor in inspiring Madison to learn the language; not for the benefit of her Senegalese brother.

But he did not need to know that.

Inez spoke again, mainly just to make sure that Madison hadn't become paralyzed from shock. "Is she telling you to buy a damn dictionary or was your spelling fine?” Inez teased. There was no response, but Madison was finished reading, and Inez became heart-scared that she would lick the page.

Madison was dumbfounded for a few more seconds. "I got first place in the contest. She wants me to come to New York and meet her! Bloody hell, she thinks I could help her out with new ideas?" Maddie took another break before screaming the house down. "The Mallorie Whyte wants me because she thinks I could help her-"

She completely froze up in shock, her frightened stepmother running behind her in case she fell backwards. "Three weeks?!" Madison screeched, loud enough to wake up the dead. Inez almost jumped from her skin, laughing when she recovered.

"Three weeks, Maddie! We have plenty of time," she attempted to reason, even though trying to calm Madison down when she was as excited as this was next to impossible.

Madison looked highly offended. "Three weeks? Do you see the state of this house? It needs to be perfect!"

The house was next to gleaming spotless.

Inez rolled her eyes and tugged Madison's belt loop as she was about to run into the hall. In her lifetime, she had met many people that she could consider crazy, but no one came as close to her stepdaughter when she was fangirling over Mallorie Whyte. "Yes, honey that's all well and good," Inez said, attempting to calm down the lunatic in front of her, "but in the meantime, I want you to tidy your bedroom, do your homework and do some studying."

Madison nodded obediently, grabbed her Cola, and ran upstairs, careful not to spill anything on the grey carpet. The fragrance of her apple blossom burning in an incense bowl wafted around the room, and her speaker was set to play music from her playlist when it detected motion in the room. The past few moments of excitement had wiped what had happened before the letter out of her mind.

Dylan.

Meghan had practically taken Dylan away from her- not that she cared, not now anyway. Mallorie freakin' Whyte had sent her a handwritten letter for Christ's sake, she wasn't going to be moping over a boy that her supposed best friend has had her eyes on for months. She had known since before announcing the move that the boy was falling under Meghan's spell, she had seen it; the messages, the winks and the giggles, the almost-too-close kiss under the stairway. She was never ignorant to the fact that there was something between Dylan and Meghan going on behind her back- they were both horrible liars and barely tried to cover it up- she just did her best to pretend nothing had happened.

It's not as if she wasn't the jealous type- she used to be- Dylan had been around most of her friendship group while she was crushing on him. She had just grown an indifference to seeing him flirt with other girls. She had grown used to it.

The notification of her computer sounded, distracting herself from her slightly depressing thoughts. It was an email notification, from Mallorie Whyte herself. Madison almost fainted at the sight of it. Not only had she just received a written letter, but she had also taken time to contact online. Madison caught her breath at the possibility of having a conversation with this woman three weeks before they met, she opened the email, scanning every word;

Madison,

I apologize for reaching out to you in such an informal manner, but I just couldn't wait to get into correspondence with you sooner! Your entry into our contest here at Whyte’s Journalism and Publications utterly rocked my soul at the core, your work blooms amazingly at your young age.

The reason I picked your entry was that after many hours of reading and re-reading hundreds of thousands of entries, I realized that yours spoke to me in a way that no other one did. The beauty of your language and knowledge of how our world and society works touched me in a way no other did- heart-breaking, yet somehow warming, in the same way, to know that there are still people in this world who still have a love for life.

I noted in your information folder that Halloween was your least favourite holiday- a complete juxtaposition of my own opinion. Samhain is the best time of year- and I am excited to spend this glorious time of year with you and your family starting next weekend, as I've just finished sorting arrangements with Ms. Inez.

Best regards and wishes, and excitement to meet you,

Mallorie Whyte.

Inez smiled to herself from downstairs, setting her drink down and running up the stairs having heard the rather obvious sound of Madison's delighted squeal and subsequent crash on the floor.

#anyway #this is original for once LMAO #yeah i promise there's some gross billie fluff coming at some point #writeblr

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justformyself2 · 4 years ago

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Notting Hill ³

Hi guys!!. I'm back, not by popular demand hehe. Well, at least I'm not showing up empty-handed. Hope you enjoy it and if you did please let me know. Yes, it gives me motivation.

This is my participation on my friend’s @lullabieswrappedinlies Rom-Com writing challenge (go check her out, she is so damn creative and amazing). This story is based on the movie Notting Hill and will be added to my MASTERLIST.

"You don't want to talk about it?"

The 'narrow eye move' does not affect people such as Alexis, who remains leaned on the counter, gazing at you from above for the past ten minutes.

She huffed low and kept going. "It's okay if you want to talk about it."

"Alexis... I just want to take care of my store. I want to sit here till it's time to receive Agnes and five more women who will try to make me do coffee runs for them and then, hopefully, or not, I will sell a book or two before Kirk comes in to try to steal something, then I want to close, go home, lay down on my bed and think about the fact that I might go broke somewhere in the next three months."

"Kirk is at it again? Shit, I thought he fled after trying to steal from the stalls."

"He let the beard and hair grow a lot, lost weight, most people still don't know is him, yet, but I'm on it."

Her eyebrows raised and rested.

"Well, if you can prepare for the thieves you can definitely prepare for when-."

You take a long audible breath, rearranging the bills scattered, which made Alexis retrieve for a moment.

"He is not coming. He can be an asshole, but he is not as audacious as Kyle."

There was a hint of confidence flourishing inside your chest, although Alexis's persistence kept accelerating.

"He is famous, that makes you gain some audacity, thinking that it will allure people into doing what you want. I'm just saying, I'm here for you."

"Well, thanks. Did you talked to Kyle yet?"

"Fuck no! He can rot in hell for all I care about. That night was a disaster! The son of a bitch suddenly showing up."

You watch her squeeze her left thumb inside the other palm, harshly, before you shove the pile of bills under the glittery paperweight.

"Did he suddenly realized he wanted to be a father after ten years?"

She lets out a bitter chuckle.

"Appear at my front door with the most ridiculous, bushy mustache, like he just came out of a seventies porno." She huffs aggressively, archiving the blended expression of disgusted and angry.

"I couldn't even recognize him."

"Well, it's been years." You reminisce. " Did you really thought you could avoid it? At some point-."

An, almost discreet, movement next to the shelves interrupts the conversation.

The tired creak of the wooden floor exposed Nova, purposely or not. Judging by the posture shown seemed calculated. She had both hands inside the red apron, combined with a hint of annoyance spread on her features, very clearly portraited.

Alexis is dynamic, remaining natural regarding what her daughter could have listened to.

"Hey baby, are you ready to go?"

Nova sighs and her shoulders go down.

"No mom, I just arrived. What are you doing here?"

"I work next door, Nova."

"Still."

"Well, actually I wanted to take you all to eat something."

Cold lie, easy to spot, mainly because it was a fact that your sister hates to eat out, and that was why your niece's gaze, filled with doubt, was shot in your direction.

It didn't take a lifetime to recognize the type of moves, of which, Alexis would appeal for damage control. She needed to reassure her daughter, keep her on her side.

"She should have told him to go back the same path he came, but no, she just let him in." It was the following thing Nova said to you after arriving from school today, dropping her pink backpack into the ground behind the counter, followed by "I feel like she will accept him back at some point."

There was no remark on exactly when the pendulum of your niece's feelings towards Kyle became so stuck on the pure hatred side, although expected to happen at some point.

The complicated questions completely stopped at the thirteen. Alexis couldn't decide between relief or disbelief till browsing the history bar on the laptop while innocently- as she said- tried to find the recipe for cannolis and instead found Kyle's Facebook page, where he was incredibly active. There were photos, places, friends, trips, a lot of women, one of them Carly Raymond, his highschool sweetheart, who still had a perm.

There was nothing else for Nova to be curious about, and it is not your niece's fault technology was way easier to navigate for information than your sister was.

Alexis reacted cold, in the way you wouldn't expect, not actually trying to salvage the situation because a part of her would never forgive Kyle, the same part that wished Nova did the same.

"Was I supposed to lie to her? Make it worse, make her doubt me too? What he did is hateful, can I blame her? I was the one who always told me he would break her heart no matter what. He didn't even have to come here to do it, and do you think he is ashamed of all that crap online? Traveling, living his life around the world but not being able to come to see her, choosing this 'lifestyle' over here?"

"I know a good, quiet place, that opened down the street."

You ignited, but Nova kept the skeptical stare.

"Sounds great, come on Nov, get this apron off."

"Ok. We will have to talk at some point anyway."

You watch Nova give up, untying the apron behind her back, approaching the counter in slow steps, and leaving it there.

"That's my girl."

"Wait, I have to take something first."

Alexis watches her search inside her backpack as you got up from the chair, taking your sky blue Weichen wristband.

'Closed for lunch' in pink Sans Serif font as Nova made, was hanged on the inside of the glass door before you locked.

"Sorry for the inconvenience", advised to be added on by your niece was revoked by you since no one, not even Agnes would have felt inconvenienced by the closing. You still had the, sometimes, foolish hope of the weekends, when the streets would be fuller than now.

Leading the pace you could only hear Alexis's voice behind your back before you could spot the large Navy blue plaque of Ledbury restaurant and its crowded sidewalk, right next to Walmer Castle pub.

"Guys" You called. "There it is." You pointed front, towards the other side of the street, stopping on the sidewalk as the cars accelerated on the green light.

Turning around you capture your niece's smile as your sister whispered something in her ear. On Nova's hand, there was the same Smithsonian Magazine from this morning.

You forgot to tell Alexis about the way she sounded, reading on the drive to school an extended report about how brains are wired to capture and respond to emotions.

She held the magazine, folded in one hand while eating a Dairy Milk with the other, and in a very 'Alexis' tone discoursed: "Basically is just our brain responding to our way of thinking, even when we anticipate something in our minds. We don't even have to see it."

Your sister still whispered something towards Nova's ear, but the smile placed there died down as she looked, eyes wide, ping-ponging between you and something else that appeared to be amidst the crowd, standing on the other side. She pokes Alexis's arm with emergency.

Spreading as easy as the people starting to move again around you, the same tension, mirrored on their faces, irradiated on the pitch of your stomach right when sister's eyes went cold.

"Excuse-me." You hear, close to your right ear, remaining standing still.

"Oh, my God!" Another voice, a woman's voice as you can now notice as Alexis leaves Nova's side to grab your arm.

The woman's voice sounded alarmed and so does the beats of your heart as more people start murmuring.

"I can't believe it is him."

"Oh! Lord, it is Mike Levine."

Cars started to honk as the crossing street became fuller, and the crowd starting to form began to work as a magnet of more curiosity and obstacles, but Alexis's arm stood strong over your shoulders, navigating and crossing you to the other side.

You wished her arms were stronger than the temptation you blamed for making your back swerve.

There was a moment of not knowing what to expect till you came to realize expectations grew in a matter of seconds. There must be was a reason to want to look back at Mike Levine, surrounded by strangers all over, ungratefully creating an illusion of a time that didn't seem to pass.

He was still the same as you came to see once or twice in a free subscription magazine, but he wasn't plastic anymore.

#RomComWC #RCWC #John Krasinski #john krasinskixreader #john krasinski imagine #original story #mine #notthing hill #IMAGINE #fanfiction #fanfic #interative imagine

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kg2hub · 4 years ago

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so let’s talk about the kindergarten amino.

there are issues we need to address like grown ups, which some certain people refuse to do.

i’m not gonna lie, i avoided getting amino for the longest time because i am aware of how much of a festering cesspool of toxicity it is there. it’s terrifying, how shitty people can be on there honestly. the community? garbage. absolute garbage, and despite not having an account there i personally know my friends have been affected by the utter bullshit that goes on in there.

sure, i know many of the wonderful creators there, good friends who mean the world to me, and amazing talented mutuals of mine spanning multiple social media platforms who are on the amino as well. good people exist. but so do the bad ones, and it seems on amino specifically, the bad people are more prevalent there.

it’s kind of really stupid, how much of a horrible place that app is, and yet the kindergarten communities i’ve personally witnessed on tumblr, discord, instagram-- are so much kinder, supportive and not at all what a certain mod team describes.

how curious! it’s almost as if the behaviour you allow freely in a community breeds likeminded people in that community! :) mindblowing, isn’t it?

on that topic. the kindergarten amino mods.

according to the oxford dictionary1, a moderator is defined as being 1. a person whose job is to help people or groups who disagree to reach an agreement ; 4. a person who is responsible for preventing offensive material from being published on a website.

notice how none of these definitions say anything about uhhhhh “talking like a simp” lmao?

like what they said to a friend of mine who asked why she didn’t get the mod position she applied for and when she asked what was “wrong” with the way she spoke to people when they answered her, case in point:

under the cut, here are the requirements for how a kga mod is supposedly obligated to speak to people, straight from the mod team themselves (and how the above and below are incredibly unfitting for someone supposedly in a moderator’s position):

the above images are the message that came before the first screenshot from the convo from my friend shown above the cut. now, let me point out the issues with this list. the 1st definition of “moderator” portrays a mod as helping two parties reach an agreement with one another after an argument. the 4th definition of “moderator” is someone who is responsible for preventing offensive material from being published on a website (in this case, app)

“talk casual” is not applicable to these definitions. this has little to no relation to how a mod may mediate a situation, but there are a few conceivable pros and cons.

pros: both parties in an argument may find them easier to talk to, and might understand each other’s points better when explained in terms that come off as relaxed and not like a serious adult wagging their finger at a child.

cons: the exact opposite might happen due to the fact they will sound less professional and may be taken less seriously, and there is no guaranteed way the two parties in question will interpret the mod’s efforts in either a good or bad way.

in conclusion, speaking casually to someone as a mod is not important nor does it affect how the actual act of moderation occurs. “speak respectfully” is the phrase you’re looking for, kga mods. it doesn’t matter how formal or casual you are, as long as you’re not straight up being a dick to anyone.

“try to make negatives sound neutral” is, in other words, deliberately wording a situation to avoid taking one specific side of an argument. --the issue with this, is that there are some situations that are rooted in facts, and you cannot change a negative fact to “make it sound neutral” because it exists in reality as a negative fact no matter what you think or how you try to convince yourself otherwise. there are cases where one person is wrong and one person is right, and that is the end of that. there are cases where it doesn’t matter what the user’s intent behind their actions were; well-meaning or not, if they did something wrong, they did something wrong. tell them what they did wrong, issue a warning, let them apologize and move on if they won’t do it again. if they’re a repeat offender, take the appropriate actions for the situation and deal with it responsibly as the person in the authoritative position. end of story.

there are differences between petty arguments (eg. who is the “best” character), and serious matters that should be dealt in a serious way (eg. art theft, rape jokes, bullying). nothing in this world is completely black and white, but there is a clear difference between what will harm a person, and what will not; what is good for the sake of a community, and what isn’t. and frankly, if you think you can dispute that and take a neutral side on urgent issues anyway, you are incredibly mistaken.

this can be a tactic used for de-escalation, absolutely, and for making sure you aren’t inserting your personal opinions into the argument by looking at it from an objective point of view. but it is not fit for every situation, and the fact that it’s listed as “one of the ways a mod is supposed to talk to people” puts it in a checklist for the “standard” of how they should speak, which therefore implies that a mod needs to “try” to use it in every situation possible. instead of, you know, judging the situation and reacting accordingly rather than going a roundabout way that doesn’t go straight to solving the actual issue between users. i would count that specific point as bad wording on their part, but my point for all of this still stands regardless.

“be patient” does play an important part of handling arguments between two people, i will agree with that. it’s advisable to be the calm, rational one when dealing with two people whose emotions are influencing them to only see their side and no one else’s. that’s only assuming the situation isn’t as serious as other ones may be, however, and that there are multiple sides to the argument at all.

of course this isn’t the case for other things that are much worse, and if we recall the 4th definition of a moderator in modern, internet-associated terms, it is the mod’s duty to prevent offensive, harmful material from being posted on a website. not everything can be solved with patience and talking things out when someone is breaking the rules. a moderator also needs to be able to put their foot down when needed, and take action especially in the case that the mod isn’t actually being listened to.

as a person being confronted by a mod, it’s easy to say you agree and won’t do it again but you’ll just do it again anyway. which is why punishment, repercussions, consequences (banning, reporting, etc) are put in place to prevent these things from happening. relying only on talking things out cannot and will not stop people from doing what they want, if they don’t listen and have no desire to change for the better.

“try to make your users comfortable while talking to you” is not applicable in every situation either. of course it’s important to ensure you are respected as a mod, and that you are respectful towards other people as well. it’s nice to have a friendly disposition when talking to people, so they aren’t intimidated or scared of you, or think you’re stuck up or unlikable or mean and whatever else.

but in the end, it doesn’t really matter what everyone thinks of you, whether you’re a mod or not. not everyone will like you at any given point, ever. that’s just a fact of life. what matters as a mod, is doing your job properly. the way others see you is a factor in it, sure, but as a mod you will always inherently be someone who some others are a little jumpy when talking to you. but most people also don’t have any reason to be uncomfortable if they aren’t doing anything wrong in the first place. if they’re hurting people and being toxic, it doesn’t matter how comfortable they are when talking to you.

in addition, it’s possible to be amicable while also being firm and direct about moderation work. and it is also possible to separate how you speak in a friendly conversation with someone, compared to speaking to someone who has seriously messed up and broken the rules.

“smiley face trademarked” this straight up has nothing to do with being a mod. it’s just a typing quirk. it’s not important to what makes someone a mod. it also is typically used for passive aggressiveness so. if the kga staff wants to come off to their community that way, i am not fishing out the one (1) radioactive shoe in the sewers that is the kindergarten amino. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“de-escalate situations or try to stay calm” does fit exactly with what i was talking about earlier. this is the 1st definition of moderators, and essentially is part of their job. i legitimately don’t have objections to this, that haven’t already been said, because it is a mod’s job to keep the peace between the people in an online community.

this message came after the list they provided, before the screenshot of my friend asking if her not sugarcoating things was the issue. for context, she had challenged their authority before this instance, and critiqued the way the mods would usually handle situations. in that, they don’t actually handle the situation and would opt for “being a simp” rather than solving the issue. (keeping this in mind, it’s hard not to suspect they rejected her because of past hostility against her for speaking her mind before this.)

it’s not hard to change the way you speak according to the situation. you don’t talk to the principal (or your boss if you’re older), the same way you would talk to your best friend, or the way you would talk to a sibling, and you don’t speak to a stranger on the street, or significant other in any of those ways too.

it doesn’t matter how she spoke when she critiqued the mods. the way she spoke for that occasion was appropriate for the topic, and does not in any way correlate or give any indication to how she would speak to a general person if she was in a mod position.

it doesn’t matter about how “relatable” you are as a mod either. that has nothing to do with moderation and does not make you do your job any better or any less than someone who “isn’t relatable” whatever the fuck that means.

a teacher can be relatable all they want, but they can and will get booted from their job if they’re, y’know, not actually doing their job; aka teaching. a teacher can teach without being engaging in any way for the students at all, and that arguably isn’t good either, but the difference is, as much as the students may not like it, that’s not a requirement for their job, hence why a teacher would not get fired for being boring but still getting information through to their students, but a teacher would get fired for not teaching no matter how fun, relatable, or friendly they are.

the power a mod has is supposed to be used to moderate, while “being relatable” is not needed, even though it can be beneficial, to actually do your job properly.

ah yes, this screenshot again. urban dictionary’s 1st definition of “simp” is: Someone who will say anything to please someone, particularly a girl, in the hopes that they will be in good favor with that person.

and that really speaks for itself why simps are unfit to be in a moderator position. essentially, they are suck ups. fakes. they will, by this definition, say anything to win the good graces of other people, to win approval, and make people like them. --and as i mentioned before, this is not the job of a mod in any way, shape or form.

it is not beneficial for a mod to suck up to someone who is breaking the rules and hurting others. it doesn’t matter what the community’s opinion is of how likable a mod is; the mod is the person in a position of power, and it is their job to make sure no one is breaking the rules or posting anything harmful to others or to the community. that has nothing to do with popularity contests.

and, this shows how these mods handle situations if they “talk like a simp” to the perpetrators. it’s a substantial reason why this mod team doesn’t actually get their work done if this is the way they speak to people. to talk in this manner means they are not really telling the perpetrators what they’re doing wrong and trying to get them to stop, but are rather encouraging and enabling them to keep doing terrible things because of the fact that “it will please them, and that person will think good of the mods”

--another point i should talk about, is the “we have to be kind and try to understand” part of what they said.

according to one of my friends, some people in the kga mod team are over 18?? i don’t know if this is true, and i don’t really care. but if it is, maybe fucking act like it lmao. if you really are adults-- even some young teenagers already know this-- but you should already know it is completely possible to be kind and polite to someone while disagreeing with them and telling them they are wrong and what they did is wrong.

it’s word choice. there is a deliberate difference between choosing to type “wow you’re so stupid, don’t you know you’re not allowed to post this? delete it, dipshit” and “hey there! this post doesn’t fit the posting guidelines, so please take this down. thanks!”

there’s also a neat little thing where a person can understand why a person did something and the reasons why they think something is right, looking at an opinion that is not their own and the contexts for why other people may think that way-- but still realize that it’s fundamentally wrong and they shouldn’t do that anyway! it’s called critical thinking. it comes with the experience of growing up, which, doesn’t necessarily correlate to how old a person is.

so even if the mods are adults, they have no excuse for not being able to connect saying things in a kind way while also being firm about moderating and doing their job without being a doormat.

we, as adults, are supposed to be the responsible ones when dealing with minors, and mods are the designated responsible ones over every member of an online community by proxy. by now, you should have learned these things. but i will acknowledge that not all people may be mentally capable of thinking and speaking this way as easily as others. and that’s fine and dandy and doesn’t make them a bad person-- but that also means they should not be mods in the first place if they can’t deal with things objectively but respectfully and kind at the same time.

--kinda funny how that screenshot under the simp screenshot practically agrees with that notion, huh!

( plus the fact those under 13 are not allowed to use amino in the first fucking place, yet they allow a fucking 12 year old to join without doing anything about it?? children should not be on that app until they’re old enough. it’s detrimental to them and everyone around them, and unsafe for them especially. i’m pretty sure more than two people are aware of this incident, and the fact the mods did nothing about it? pure incompetence. )

^ she put it pretty well in her own words too.

and now onto this bullshit. i, on the other hand do not personally know these people on the kga mod team, but i do not care for their opinions on me considering i don’t know them and do not care for the amino community-- nor do i have the obligation to suspend my belief on whether they truly are lovely people or not.

they allowed my friends to get hurt, everything i’ve seen from them is incompetence, and frankly, the simp one especially made me actively lose braincells trying to comprehend that any human on this planet thinks that is a legitimate, reasonable response to anyone in any situation. if it was a joke, it is their fault for putting a poorly placed joke in the middle of a serious conversation. if it wasn’t a joke, i really cannot fathom how anyone believes that is an intelligent or beneficial way to talk to people while moderating.

anyway. that response of theirs? that passive aggressive “don’t say thank you when you hate us :)” while disregarding literally everything else my friend said is incredibly childish on the mod’s part. i have legitimate trouble believing anyone but a child is typing these arguments, and i’m not saying this to be mean, but i seriously cannot imagine with every single one of my synapses, that an adult would make such a halfassed “argument” like that.

on the other hand, twitter drama exists. so. perhaps i can believe there are adults who can’t communicate properly.

either way, their true age has no relation to the immature behaviour they show throughout this conversation. child or not, adult or not, they are still being unreasonable and immature and the bottom line is that these people really shouldn’t be mods.

“the next message probably isn’t me so like don’t blame kga staff” that really does not sound like anything but an excuse to say whatever you want without actually owning up to your actions.

a friend when i was 11 would say shitty things to me and then say “omg i’m soooo sorry that wasn’t me, my cousin used my computer!!” and that sounds just like that imo.

i will give the benefit of the doubt for this one assuming multiple mods are using that account(?) but the “don’t blame kga staff” makes zero sense, like my friend says. if someone from your mod team says something, it means you all either agree with it (especially considering it seems you only let people like yourself and not anyone with varied opinions become mods) or you would have to retract the statement as a team and own up to what your actual opinions are. you can have individual opinions as individual mods, but i’m pretty sure that if you say things as the kga staff as a whole, it must be assumed those opinions are at least shared with most if not all members.

there are problems involving the kga staff. of course the entire kga staff will be blamed, no matter who the individual was, for causing problems in the first place.

“abrasive and downright impulsive” buddy, you and your little mod posse have had these issues spanning several months, according to my friends. there’s nothing impulsive about poking the hornet’s nest repeatedly and then getting surprised when you get stung. or in this case, called out with the truth. because the truth isn’t “abrasive”, it’s just real.

consider: you’re being spoken to this way because you won’t listen to literally any other way whenever your inadequacies of being mods has been brought up in the past lmao. being nice obviously hasn’t worked (oh the irony). what else do you expect to happen?

“if everyone despised us and we put no effort into getting a little liked from the community [...]” you said “simp” behaviour was required for all mods. there’s a huge fucking difference between “too nice to mod properly or tell people what they’re doing wrong”, and being well liked and respected while still being competent. again, being liked by everyone is not what makes someone The Best Mod(tm). doesn’t matter if you don’t actually do your job.

“the problems aren’t with the entire staff. so I don’t see the need to blame everyone” this is exactly like saying “this cancer tumor isn’t affecting all of your body so i don’t see the need to remove it before it gets worse”

“the reason we need this more lighthearted [...] and those involved in the problem” again. it is entirely possible to be kind to someone while also dealing with problems in a responsible manner.

yep. as she said, the kga staff is the first one to throw insults at her, not the other way around. and it is incredibly hypocritical of them to talk that way. not very simp-like when you’re directly being called out on the shit you’re doing wrong, huh :)

and you heard it here folks; the kga staff doesn’t care about the opinions and critical feedback of it’s own members! “a bad opinion based on next to nothing” you mean the stuff you sweep under the rug and the shit she’s personally witnessed the whole time she’s been on that amino?

sure, that first mod is not specifically responsible for what the second one said. but you’re both still mods, and whole idea of being a mod is being responsible for others in the first place. and that responsibility includes amongst yourselves. if you don’t know how to police your fellow mods (and on the case if it happened, speak up if another mod is being corrupt), can you really expect anyone to believe you can moderate other people if you don’t know how to check yourselves first?

“you’ve never been a mod. you can’t judge how we do our jobs” that is a shitty argument and always has been since the dawn of time. 99.99% of people have never and will never be president or work in parliament. that doesn’t stop them from criticizing how the government runs things. the majority of an audience have never worked on a movie set before. that doesn’t stop them from saying whether they thought the movie was absolute shit. they don’t have to know how much “hard work” is put into being a mod to judge you. what matters is the outcome, they see the outcome, and will judge you because the outcome directly affects them.

and in both of the above situations, the feedback from the outsiders are incredibly vital and influence the way the government, or the movie directors, make their next move. because if the next move they make is complete nonsensical garbage to everyone else? they’re ruined. they have to listen to everyone else or their reputation, and trust everyone else has for them, will suffer. it’s the exact same thing in an online community where its members create the content, and this is just the way humans function. she, and i, and many others of us who agree with her absolutely can judge the way you do your jobs, and at the same time you have the option of not listening. but that option isn’t always the best option for the sake of the community. these are what people who are actually fit to be mods have to decide, whether they actually want to listen to the people they’re governing, or if they’d rather avoid facing the many, many issues in their community and admitting the fact they fucked up. i’m pretty sure we all know what the kga staff is gonna pick.

you people really shouldn’t have become mods if you’re so sensitive to criticism and can’t handle confrontation. i’m pretty sure the critique you’ve been given was never a personal attack on you as people, but the point of it was, and is, to make you better mods. something which you don’t seem to care about doing.

i’m almost done here.

i have a whole bunch of disclaimers in the event whoever-the-fuck decides to argue with me on all of this. because goddammit i am a tired adult and i don’t give a shit about “mean anons” who are gonna attempt to out-logic my logic because by the end of this post, i will be done here. i will laugh as i delete your asks, on the assumption anyone will actually bother trying to fight me after everything i said. i don’t feel i’ve wasted my time with this post, but i will not waste my time arguing further with some random person on the internet.

i’m 1000% aware that being a mod for this amino is not a serious thing. i don’t care. i know it’s not a job job where you’re getting paid to actually do shit so you don’t really have to do anything at all. which is probably why the amino community sucks so bad. i’m just saying, being in that mod position still means you’re fucking responsible for when people get hurt in your community, and when people post inappropriate shit. it may not matter to you, and it may not matter in your life in the long run, but those experiences matter to someone. and it will always be, in part, your fault because your mod team was responsible for it at the time. if you don’t care? i don’t care that you don’t care. it won’t change the fact you let people get hurt and have no regrets about it. which is even worse.

yes, i wrote all of this out. i typed out this longass fucking essay for a few hours of my life despite that these people are likely never going to read this, or care, or take into consideration anything i said because they clearly can’t handle criticism-- because of the sheer amount of salt i have for these children, these adults, these people who can’t fucking do their jobs right. i haven’t wasted my time typing this, and i don’t care if other people see it that way because i don’t. and unlike some people, i’m not so insecure in myself that i care so much about what other people think. i wanted to do this. i’m happy with this decision. i don’t care that this isn’t a “real issue” or that “i could have done better things with my time” or “wow i’m a loser with no life” sure, thanks. honestly this was a better use of my time than staring at youtube all day. so. what i care about is that real people are affected by the things this excuse for a mod team has been pulling for way too long.

yes, i talked about how it’s easy to be kind while being firm. no, i am not being kind but the difference is that i am fully aware of it because i am making the choice to not put up with this bs. yes i’m some adult on the internet getting riled up that these people are trashy af. because some of the people i do care about are involved. your point?

and if you’re one of those mods on the kga and will not read all of this? i don’t care for your short attention span. mine’s the size of a goldfish’s too, dw. you read it and don’t care about what i have to say? great! here’s an uno reverse card. i do not know the mods or have any desire to know them based on what i do know of them. if they are willing to actually be reasonable, i may change my mind. until then, this criticism still stands.

no, i do not use amino other than the salt account i made today just to see firsthand what things go on there in the first place. i don’t care what happens to that account and have zero plans on posting on it. other than maybe a salt post, maybe. a specific phrase that really stuck as i was browsing was the community being described by one of the mods as an “emo daycare”. like i said way earlier in this post, the behaviour you freely allow is what breeds likeminded people in a community. that means: it’s your own fault that your community consists of mostly horrible, toxic people. if you actually did your work as mods, you wouldn’t have that issue with the people in the first place :)

it is the kindergarten fandom, but that doesn’t mean you all have to act like a bunch of kindergarteners. everything they said about the fandom is completely wrong if you actually look in the right places and, y’know, stop keeping your head in radioactive sand like a fucking ostrich while refusing to look at everything else around you. i am personally friends with so many talented individuals for this fandom, and in my experience this fandom has done nothing but good for me and my overall creativity.

no, of course i’m not above criticism either. unlike some people i am rather open to it and am aware it is important and something everyone needs to deal with in their own lives including me. i just don’t care for petty squabbling. i do have better things to do after this post, after all. i’ve said everything i needed to say, and @ whatever else the people who may disagree think of this? c’est la vie. so. yeah. i’m done here, that was me being pissed off by the sheer lack of braincells i’ve witnessed tonight, gonna draw now, bye.

#come at me i dare you #|| Some Dumb College Kid || OOC.#tw; drama #??#tw #tw; rant #tw; rape mention #|| Smart Class Stuff || Long posts.#long post #tw; swearing #tw; politics mention #/ok to reblog!#|| Brought To You By Applesoft || PSA.#tw; cancer mention

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husbandograveyard · 4 years ago

Note

Congrats on 300 followers Hzael! You deserve it! Can I ask for 42 (I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having) with Aizawa? Thank you! OwO

Hi love! Here’s some knight in shining armor Shota to save you from the other douchebags on donkeys! Hope you enjoy!

Come save me - Shota Aizawa x Reader

Cliche with bae event Prompt #42: come save me from the terrible date I’m having Character: Shota Aizawa - Word count: 1.7k

Hunger. Regret. Embarrassment. More regret. Anger. Frustration. A whirlpool of emotions was going through you as you kept your expression as neutral as possible, aggressively cutting the piece of steak in front of you and eating a bit to try and distract you from the man sitting in front of you, talking while he barely made eye contact. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about at the moment, but you couldn’t care less. You wanted out of here. Now. How did you even get in this situation?

After dating around some in your circle of friends to no avail, you had finally turned to online dating. You made loads of profiles, installed all the apps, did the matching, the swiping, you name it. Out of the hundreds of possible candidates, you immediately deleted anyone that wasn’t looking for anything serious. You were no teenager anymore, you had a job and a home and you were ready to settle down completely.

Your biggest help in this adventure had been your coworkers and best friends, Hizashi and Shota. The three of you had gone to school together and now all three of you were teaching at U.A. Any guy you’d ever date had to go past these two, and honestly, you didn’t mind. Their protectiveness was endearing and they were pretty good judges of character.

They had been helping you weed out matches, even secretly (but not so secretly) tagged along on dates to make sure it wasn’t some creep. Even though you’d be perfectly fine fending off a creep by yourself, you were a capable hero after all, you really liked them looking out for you.

Now for this date, it had been a little different. You had gotten this match from one of the more expensive sites. The kind where so-called experts matched people based on their personalities and profiles. It took you a whole long time filling in a question list for them, but when you got your match, you were not disappointed. Dating apps and such made you a little more shallow, looks were the first thing you saw on those, but hell, you were pleasantly surprised. Your ultimate match was extremely good-looking. But almost insanely so. Shota grabbed your phone, said ‘probably a douche’, and gave it back. Hizashi only laughed at the remark and let you first read up on his profile.

Your match did a normal office job but had an intelligence-based quirk that allowed him to understand everyone regardless of the language they spoke, which he used in his line of work. He was two years older than you, stable income, own house. He did some volunteering in his free time and most of your hobbies seemed to line up or were compatible at least. It was almost too good to be true, which was exactly what Hizashi said.

“Well, who pays so much money for such a personal dating service and then goes around and lies on their profile? That’d be stupid.” You were zooming in on the pictures he shared, desperately trying to find traces of photoshop, but to no avail. Right as you were about to say something, he sent you the first message. You replied enthusiastically, and a nice conversation was born.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and your match had proposed to go have dinner somewhere. It was a pretty fancy restaurant he proposed, but you accepted, it was a nice change to maybe dress up and have an actual fancy date. You were keeping realistic scenario’s in your head but you couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was maybe the one you had been waiting for all along.

The date came along and you were actually in a sour mood before you even got there. Mostly because Shota had been increasingly mean about the guy the more you gushed about him. At some point, you had made a remark about jealousy, and that had caused quite a discussion until Hizashi broke it up and told you to get ready, and he’d be off for a guy’s night with Shota. It had been a while after all, and that way you wouldn’t even have to worry about either of them spying on you during your date.

How you were regretting that now. You wished they had spied on you because this date was a disaster. He had been over twenty minutes late, didn’t tell you the name of the reservation so you were waiting outside in the cold until he finally showed up. He looked great, just like in his pictures, but way less well-kempt than he had been looking on his pictures. You had dressed up in your best dress, had gone to the hairdresser to get your hair on point, applied a subtle amount of makeup to look your best, and appropriate for the date and the location. He was wearing some jeans, a T-shirt that had some spots on it that you didn’t even want to know about.

You smiled anyway, greeting him by holding out your hand, not too keen on hugging a total stranger, but he had gone straight in for a kiss on the cheek, and you noticed how he didn’t smell nice either. It really busted your mood, even more, were you only worth so little effort that he showed up like that? But you kept his hobbies, and all the nice things he had said in chat in mind, and went into the restaurant, putting all your hope in the person he was in your chat messages, which had been a terrible idea.

The food was expensive and way too little, and this man had not stopped talking about himself. The volunteering was a one-time gig, ‘always pleases the ladies’ he had smugly added to the story, and many other things on his profile weren’t exactly lies, but were mostly polished up truths to make him look better. He had gone as far as interrupting you multiple times even after he himself had asked you a question, degraded female heroes and generally any woman who worked because ‘you gotta let men do the job’. He expected his partner to drop their job for him, so he could be the sole provider. He was looking for a housewife, but the way he described it, was more a live-in-maid he could have some intimacy with as well, just whenever he pleased. It made you sick to your stomach and you wanted to leave, but that was not so easy in such a fancy restaurant without possibly causing a commotion.

You briefly excused yourself from the table, and he gave you a pissed-off look because you had clearly interrupted whatever very important thing he was saying. You made a beeline for the bathroom, contemplating for a second to just walk out but again, you had some kind of reputation to uphold. Once in the bathroom, you immediately dialed Shota’s number. He picked up within seconds.

“Let me guess. He’s a douche.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug tone in his voice. “He’s terrible… please come save me?” “I don’t know if I can. I mean… I cannot possibly interrupt your date with this perfect, wonderful, beautf-” “Shota I swear to god, get your ass over here. I need you right now.” It was silent for a few seconds, and then you heard a low chuckle before he spoke up again. “One rescue mission coming up.”

He had not put in the slightest effort to hide his annoyance, but you knew he’d show up. You refrained from splashing cold water in your face because you didn’t want to mess up your makeup and headed back into the dining room. He made some remark on how long you took and you focussed back on your plate, inwardly praying Shota wouldn’t take too much time in getting there.

Luckily for you, it was only about fifteen minutes later that you heard some commotion and before you could even look up what had made some other customers make surprised gasps Shouta was standing at your table. In full Eraserhead gear. Not that that differed so much from his usual clothes, but still, very recognizable. You frowned. “Wha-?” “No time for questions. It’s an emergency, got your costume in the car.” You nodded and stood up, apologizing to your date, who was too speechless and too busy comprehending what was going on to come up with a retort.

Shota looked him up and down once as you were making your way to the exit, sending the man one more apologetic look and wave. “You look like you can handle the bill. Hero duties call sir. Good night”

You got in the car, and not five minutes later Shota got in too and started to drive. You weren’t really sure what to say or what to do. “Where’s…” “Hizashi? Got drunk and got home. I just dropped him off when you called.” “Oh…” You were feeling strangely uncomfortable, but you were not really sure why exactly, probably because the argument from earlier was not really resolved yet. “Shota, I’m sorry about-” “Don’t mention it. I could’ve reacted more maturely”

You nodded, looking ahead again. No use for deep discussions when Shota had a road to focus on. You looked around and were surprised to not be going back in the direction of your house. “Where are we going?” “A decent place” “What do you mean?” “Well, it’d be sad if you dressed up all beautiful like that for no reason. I know a place.” You blushed a little and looked at him, his eyes focussed on the road as he said that almost matter-of-a-factly. “Like… like a date?” you almost didn’t dare as k. “Like a date.”

You were speechless. In all your dating adventures you had never even considered the option that the perfect match was around you already all along. “If you’re up for that, if not, I can just drop you off at home?” “No no…”, you smiled, “I’d like that. No surprises with you.” “No stupid profile needed.” He smiled a little from behind the steering wheel and you felt the corners of your mouth curl up too. “No stupid profiles needed indeed.”

You knew what you were going to do when you got home: delete all that bullshit from your laptop and phone. Cause this time, it could really be the one.

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bisexualsforprompto · 5 years ago

Text

Of Roommates and Red Heroes Chapter 1

AO3

One (You are here) Next

One- Of pilots and new beginnings

Jason Todd ran, ran away from the legacy he could never fill. The one he was still expected to fill. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know he had changed?

God, was had he even changed? It’s not like he could ever make up for what he did. But he couldn’t wear the colors of the Robin ever again either. He crossed a line, he was past the point of no return.

And Bruce couldn’t let him forget it.

As far as Jason was concerned, he didn’t deserve a redemption.

He didn’t deserve a happily ever after.

Dick (in more ways than one): [is online]

Lil bro Jason: [is online]

Dick (in more ways than one): Come back.

Lil bro Jason: No.

Dick (in more ways than one): Please, Bruce didn’t mean it.

Lil bro Jason: Honestly I give zero f*cks if he meant it.

Dick (in more ways than one): So that's it. You’re just solo now and we’ll never see you again?

Lil bro Jason: You are welcome to visit when you’d like, along with Steph, Tim, Barbara, etc etc. I don’t want to see him again.

Dick (in more ways than one): He’s your dad!

Lil bro Jason: Godammit Dick! He’s not! Open your goddamn eyes! He’s not our dad, he’s a man who just uses us for his dirty work!

Dick (in more ways than one): I can’t stop you from doing this, but just talk to Bruce at least, if you don’t you’ll regret it, trust me I know.

Lil bro Jason: [is offline]

•~•Sunday Nov.17, 8am EST•~•

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mr. Todd.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Jason said as he peeled a case file off his face, he’d fallen asleep the night prior reading it. Jason walked over to the nook where he kept all his ‘borrowed’ GCPD case filed which just happened to go missing from their archives every so often. For some reason, Jason liked to review case files. A lot. Maybe it was living with a detective for so long, but he felt at home in his own little world of files.

Jason brought a hand to his head, trying to shield his pounding headache. He remembered going out to the bar, but not much else. He brushed his hand down his face to feel stubble, another thing he’d have to deal with later. He fixed his hair a little bit before getting off his brown leather couch. He checked out what he was wearing, only pants. He sighed and picked up a plain black t shirt off the ground. Sliding it on, Jason walked over to the door and opened it.

Of all the things he was expecting today, he wasn’t expecting his landlord in full suit and tie showing up at his door. Unfortunately, it was his reality. A tall slim and bony man in a tacky olive green suit and oversized brown plastic glasses was holding a clipboard and pen in his hands.

“Mr. Jason Todd?”

Jason sighed, “That’s me.” The man looked him up and down. Jason was about to yell at him for judging but decided against it.

“You’ve been behind on your last payment for this flat. You have one week or you will be evicted.” The man said properly, leaving directly after despite Jason’s protests. Sighing, Jason shut the door.

He hadn’t found work in a long time. He’d been fired from his last job for drinking, and he couldn’t change his ways after being Red Hood and working with Batman. He went by the same mantle but working with Bruce did a number on him as always, only this time it was a positive change. He couldn’t work and make dirty money off drug cartels anymore, Red Hood was a lone vigilante but Jason Todd could only find himself doing honest work. Honest work that was very difficult to find in this day and age.

The only thing Jason could think that would save him would be getting a roommate. Jason sighed once more, all Gothamites were bat-shit crazy (pun not intended) and there was no way in hell he was taking Bruce’s blood money. Jason started drafting an ad and put it on Craigslist. The best he’d be able to do, hopefully before the date he’d be able to meet all of the candidates to make sure they weren’t insane.

‘Searching for a roommate in a flat in Gotham Sun Apartments. $500 per month expected. Contact xxx-xxx-xxx for more information. (Images attached below)’

Jason rubbed his pounding temple, all he could do was wait.

•~Friday Nov. 22, 10am EST~•~•

“Voyage.” Marinette called before stepping into a black portal. She whimpered as she landed in a dark alley. “Tikki, Kaaliki, divide.” She whispered. “Spots off.” She was released from her heroine persona. Marinette was bloody, bruised and confused. She didn’t know where Kaaliki had taken her but she hoped it was far away from Paris. Marinette walked warily out of the alley to see a beautiful city full of life around her. Many people walked past and she could hear snippets of conversation, only something was off about them…they were in English! Marinette realized, could Kaaliki’s Portal have taken her to America or England? Thank god for Madame Bustier’s lessons or Marinette wouldn’t be able to speak a lick of English, she was practically fluent after all of her lessons. Marinette took out her pigtails and slid the bands onto her arm, she checked her purse, Tikki and Kaaliki were in there as well as $2000. Master Fu had given it to her before her...departure.

Marinette continued down the street hoping to find some sign of where she was. Pedestrians gave her strange looks, most likely because of all her evident injuries. Marinette passed by street signs, all to generic to tell her anything. She accidentally bumped into a small girl wearing a sweatshirt that read “Gotham University”.

Marinette knew it was a stretch, it could just be a random sweatshirt but still she was determined to try.

‘Gotham University’ she typed into Google. Bingo. ‘Gotham University is a college in Gotham, New Jersey, America.’ So could she be in America? Marinette surveyed her surroundings, the most prominent building read Wayne Enterprises. ‘Worth a shot’ she mused. ‘Wayne Enterprises, Gotham’. Millions of hits, now she knew she must be in Gotham. Marinette continued to walk the streets to solve her next problem, where could she stay the night?

Marinette sighed turning corners, looking for any signs around. She felt a rumbling in her stomach, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Marinette couldn't see any food places around. She wandered around looking wildly for a café, bakery, restaurant, anything. She didn’t even realize she was on a collision course until she bumped into a muscular boy, about 4 years older than herself with black hair with a white streak in it and blue eyes.

•~Friday, 9:40am EST~•~•

Jason groaned as he got up. He wasn’t drunk like most nights before. He immediately went to check his computer, still no hits on Craigslist. Jason sighed, he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t get anyone to rent with him by Sunday. He refused to move back into Bruce’s mansion again. Jason picked up his apartment keys and went to look for some food, he couldn’t find a solution to a problem without food or caffeine (Tim had rubbed off on him more than he wanted).

Jason opened his door and walked down the hall, he opted for the stairs as he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone at the moment. Jason brushed past the Gothamites on the street feeling extremely aggravated. He got lost in his own world of annoyance and didn’t even realize when he ran into a small blue-haired girl.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Marinette said turning pink. She backed away feeling extremely embarrassed, “I just wasn’t looking where I was going and-“ Jason recognized that she wasn’t from Gotham. She just didn’t have that shrewd personality that came with the territory of being a Gothamite. For some reason it made him feel warmer, and his anger felt more soothed.

“It’s ok little lady, really. What brings you to Gotham?” Marinette stared up into the caring blue eyes of the boy she ran into. “I uh, well, um nothing in particular. But would you mind showing me somewhere to eat?” She asked, not wanting to revisit why she had to leave Paris. He seemed caring enough, hopefully he’d take her somewhere to eat. The man nodded, “Of course. I was headed to a café myself little lady. Hey, what’s your name?” Jason could respect that the girl didn’t want to talk about why she was here, after all, Jason didn’t like talking about his own past.

“Marinette.” Marinette blushed. “Alrighty then Marinette, I’m Jason. I’ll take you somewhere.” Jason wanted to scold her for putting so much trust in a stranger blindly as she followed him, after all this was Gotham but he just silently thanked that it was him who got to her instead of some creep. Jason led her to the Garden Café right next to where his flat was.

It might’ve been one of the only places in Gotham that wasn’t completely littered with garbage. It had beautiful flowers and an outdoor patio where patrons could eat. Jason lead Marinette to an empty black table and pulled out a metal chair for her. “Merci!” Marinette smiled, “Thank you, I mean.” Jason made the connection, “So are you from France?” Marinette nodded, “Yes, Paris actually.” Jason nodded, “What's it like there?” Marinette sighed, “Well aside from the terrorist, it’s beautiful and a great place to live.” Jason didn’t even had a drink yet but if he did, he would’ve spit it out right on the spot. “Did you just say terrorist?”

“Um yes, I assumed it was common knowledge. I mean I know Ladybug reached out to the Justice League many times…” Jason gritted his teeth, the damn Justice League. His father’s call no doubt.

“So whos Ladybug?” Marinette pondered what to tell the man across from her, on the one hand, he was the only kind one to her, but she didn’t want to accidentally give away her identity. “She along with Chat Noir, are magical heroes who wield jewels that give them power. Hawkmoth, the terrorist, wants them, because with them he can make a wish and have absolute power.” Jason's eyes widened, sure her story seemed like a poorly written children’s TV show but from the little time he’d known Marinette he’d figured a lot out about her, and he trusted that she wasn’t a liar. And wasn’t a very good one at that. Living with the world’s greatest detective, as much as Jason hated to admit it, did have some perks, Jason could read people without knowing them for long.

“I guess it’s not ideal to escape a terrorist and end up in the crime capital of the world though,” Jason said, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would rather be in Gotham than anywhere else. Marinette hadn’t known it was the crime capital of the world, she wondered why Kaaliki’s voyage sent her there. Maybe she was meant to resume being a hero in Gotham?

“Y-yeah.” Was all Marinette could stammer out. Talking to Jason made her realize so many things she had to do, she hadn’t had much time to think about what it could be like living in another country. She didn’t even have a place to stay yet!

“I know this might be a touchy subject, but...how’d you get those bruises Buttercup?” Marinette touched her hand to her face and ran her fingers down one of the scars. “H-Hawkmoth.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie. She saw Jason clench his fists.

Jason was seething, he couldn’t believe the league would ignore this! One look at this girl would prove that they should’ve listened. If Jason was still aligned with Bruce he would’ve had some choice words with him, instead he decided that he’d notify Dick and possibly the Outlaws the next time he saw them. Jason couldn’t help but feel awful for the girl, he knew what it was like to feel like you couldn’t escape the clutches of a madman. He’d lost a bit of soul to Joker. He wanted to run his fingers down all of her scars and just make everything better, she didn’t deserve that kind of torment. If anything, he did.

“Say Buttercup, where are you staying?” Jason asked before the waiter came to take their orders. Marinette answered the waiter with a simple sandwich and Jason ordered the same. “Um well...I don’t really know yet,” she responded to his previous question.

Unacceptable, she was staying with him now. “How about you come back with me Buttercup. I know we just met, but I don’t want you sleeping on the streets. Gotham is dangerous.” Marinette blushed, just now noticing the nickname he gave her. “I couldn’t do that to you!” She protested.

“It’s not a problem, Buttercup, really.” Marinette sighed, she felt grateful for Jason. Maybe she was being too trusting, but she had no other options. “As long as you let me pay you something.” Jason thought about it, he didn’t want to put this poor girl out but then he realized,

“I think there's a way we can help each other.”

#Of Roommates and Red Heroes #Jasonette #Maribat #miraculous fanfic #LadyArrow

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kirishwima · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I adore your writings! Are you still taking requests? May I ask you to write some headcannons for RFA (including V and Saeran) reacting to MC looking like a sweet cinnamon roll but in fact being a lead of rock band that perfectly practices extreme vocal techniques. Sorry if I made some mistakes (I am not a native speaker and, unfortunately, was out of English practice for a long period of time) and huge thank you!

heyo! Don’t worry, your english is fine ^^

I hope you like this, I wrote for MC using she/her pronouns, but I can absoloutely change that if you’d like!

I unfortunately don’t have the time to write for V and Saeran too right now, but I promise I’ll come back to this headcanon and write their parts too once I have the time to! Sorry ;;

YOOSUNG:

He felt like the luckiest man in the world, having such a cute loving girlfriend!! The two make the cutest freaking couple, people cooing at them when they walk down the street

So when MC told him she's in a band, he found it really cool, but didn't question it further-he assumer she may sing some cute acoustic songs or pop bops.

When MC invited him to a show at a bar he was a little curious about the location choice but hey, of course he'll be there to support his girl!

When they arrived MC kissed him, promising she'll see him after the show; he invited a few of his classmates along to see his MC's talent uplose

He already started wondering what kind of band MC's was when the opening act started with punk rock covers of pop songs, one particularly sticking in Yoosung's mind as it was a rendition of Taylor Swift's 'Love story', taking note of their extreme fashion, all spikes and dyed bright hair...

And them MC's band came on stage and hoo boy she was unrecognisable! Thick smudged eyeliner, a bold black lipstick, her leather jacket adorned with patches and spikes all over, her jeans so ripped you could see her thighs, and thos massive combat boots...

Yoosung didn't have the time to pass out as MC greeted the crowd with a cheer and the drummer started up the beat, the guitsrist following suit, and MC's voice...

Sure he heard her hum at home but this was NUTS. Her voice was so thick, deep, yet she managed to pull out some screams from her little frame that Yoosung couldn't believe

After the show he would NEVER shut up about how much of a cool badass his girl is. And if someone said sure, she's cute but not a badass...Yoosung would simply invite them to MC's next preformance

ZEN:

When MC had casually mentioned she's a singer in the RFA chatroom, Zen was thrilled!!! How did he end up flirting-dating a fellow colleague??

When he kept asking what kind of singing she did, MC cryptically replied 'oh, it might not be the type of gig you're used to' and left it at that, much to Zen's dismay.

After the two started dating, MC invited him along to a show, which Zen excitedly prepared for, tagging along as MC drove him to the location.

He took note of the underground bar-turned-coner-hall, the exposed cement walls and dingy barstand in the further corner, how there were posters and graffiti covering parts of the walls, the floor...

He raised a brow; Zen was no stranger to the punk rock scene, and definitely not to these underground bars; let's not forget he was in a motorcycle gang thank u very much

MC took him along backstage to meet her bandmates, whose styles ranged from completely average everyday style to punk spikey badass. He didn't question that either, but started to understand what MC's gig was, smirking as he realized; MC was testing him, pushing to see just how comfortable he'd be with her scene.

As the opening act started up on the stage, MC had been putting the finishing touches to her makeup, Zen sitting besides her smirking up at her reflection in the mirror.

"What?" she asked with a laugh, adjusting her spikey necklace.

"Not my kind of gig, you'd called it? Baby, I've been in this scenes long long ago. And knowing you're about to go out there and sing your lungs off..." he bit his lip, having the nerve to look bashful for a moment.

She rolled her eyes as he stood up, tugging her into an embrace.

"Give them hell out there" he whispered in her ear.

And she did. Hoo boy she did.

What she also did was bring out Zen to the stage...and boy, this man was born for the punk rock scene!!

JAEHEE:

To be fair...Jehee respected MC's profession, but she didn't really understand at first.

"So...it's not like Zen's musicals?" "No Jaehee, it's not." "But...you sing and have a distinctive style when on stage?" "Yes!" "I see...just like Zen! :D" "Jaehee...no baby"

Instead of trying to explain, MC sat Jaehee on the couch, connecting her phone to the TV to find one of her band's videoclips to play.

She settled on one of her favorite songs of theirs, and with a glance Jaehee's way, she hit play.

Jaehee was mesmerised; she stared at the screen, barely blinking as she took in this brand new side of MC she was witnessing, blushing as MC sang and winked at the camera, her lipstick smudged on purpose, her black ripped shirt falling off of one shoulder as if she'd been in a scuffle, her voice-how could a girl as sweet as her MC let out such a grovely voice?!

As the video ended, Jaehee remained quiet, her eyes still focused on the screen.

"So.." MC started, "What did you think?"

With an unfathomable intensity, Jaehee turned her head towards MC, pushing her glasses that'd fallen low.

"MC, I need you to show me every videoclip and concert you've got videotaped. NOW!"

She's from now on MC's number 1 fan UwU

JUMIN:

MC actually didn't tell him much about her occupation, worried how someone serious like Jumin would take it.

He knew she sings, and that she has a band, but that's pretty much it.

Not wanting to push her, Jumin simply left it at that, allowing MC to share what she felt comfortable sharing at her own pace.

He did hear her hum songs to herself sometimes, sometimes finding her on the couch surrounded by pages and music chords as she figured out new songs and lyrics.

He did sneak a peak at one of her music sheets once, reading through the lyrics with a confused frown.

"Lips like blades cut words through blood...?" he read the words aloud, looking to the paper with furrowed brows. "I see..what a wonderful metaphor MC has thought of" he smiled, setting the paper back down. He was so proud of his beloved's talent!

Once at a buisness party, he saw an associate of his approach him and MC with his daughter in tow, a girl seemingly no older than 16.

"Mr. Han, greetings" the man started, "I'm sorry to interrupt your discussion this suddenly, but you see, my daughter saw your fiancee from across the room and insisted we come over and say hi."

The girl looked up to MC with a wide grin. "I'm sorry I-I'm a big fan! I love your music and your latest song-'Bloody Sins', I loved it so much!"

Jumin watched the situation unfold as MC chatted with the girl, even taking a 'selfie' with her that the girl squealed with joy at, and in a flurry she was gone, leaving Jumin alone with MC again.

Jumin glanced at MC, a small smile on his lips. "Bloody Sins, was it?"

MC blushed, looking away with a flustered grin. "Ah yeah um-I never told you the genre of my music, I don't think it'd be something you'll be into-"

"Metal, I assume? Or rather, judging by the glance I've happened to take at your music sheets, the chords seem more befitting of some modern form of rock. Punk rock, prehaps?"

MC stared at Jumin flabbergasted. "You...how do you even know what punk rock is?!" she couldn't help her voice raising with shock.

Jumin smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You'll find I'm not as dull of a buisnessman as you might've thought me to be my love. If you'd do me the honor of inviting me to your next show, I'd be happy to listen to your wonderful voice live."

Jumin wearing ripped skinny jeans and leather jackets? Sign me tf UP

LUCIEL/SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

Not only did he know who MC was from his background search on her, he was actually a fun!

He loves punk rock, its the type of music he listens to whenever he works lol, and there was something about MC's voice that he just loved

He knew MC only as she was in her videoclips and as an online persona; a strong voice, tiny and soft-spoken in a couple interviews he stumbled upon online but with heavy makeup and rocking outfits.

The MC he met in the RFA though was much different; she was soft and cute, funny but so insufferably sweet, how could an innocent girl like her belch out such badass lyrics about death and destruction?!

Not that Saeran minded it-on the contrary lol, he loved to point out the difference in online punk rock MC and his now-girlfriend MC, throwing some of her more intense lyrics her way whenever she’d try teasing him over something herself.

Still, he was her biggest supporter, talking about her online to the point of getting a hector of traction towards her band; he rarely attended her shows given his job, but when he did he’d watch her from backstage with the proudest of smiles, and sometimes…well, he’d be a bit of a prick and mess with the lighting and audios backstage lmao

Im sorry MC you’re the one that decided to date a prankster OwO

#asks #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #mysme headcanons #hangora

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cravingmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

Apartment - Epilogue

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, a little angst, sarcasm as always Summary: You just moved from Germany to New York, working as an editor at a newspaper. So what happens when you find out your favourite actor lives in the apartment across from yours? And how will people react when you share your story on your Blog dedicated to him? What will you make of this situation? A/N: Wow here we are... the last of the last... I can’t believe that after 2 YEARS I managed to finish this series completely... I apologize for the time it took, but I just had no idea how to write it and in retrospect.. I’m glad I waited this long. A HUGE thank you to @buckisthatyou for helping me with this!!! I love you!!!

Anyway... I hope you guys love this as much as I loved writing this and I’ll see you at the end of the chapter :)

MASTERLIST

Apartment – Epilogue

I carried the last of my boxes up the stairs, weighted down a little by the contents of it. This one got lost on its way here and I’ve been desperately trying not to cry over it. It’s been almost three months since Sebastian and I moved in together, but this little fucker had to get lost.

As I pushed the door open with my shoulder the light that flooded into the room filled me with butterflies. Just seeing the living room full of life and personality put the biggest smile on my face. I placed the box next to the bookshelf and started to unpack the books inside. I moved some of the cacti out of the way, they are definitely taking over the place.

I felt a hand on my hip and jumped slightly.

“Hey, how’s it coming along?” I turned to see Sebastian.

“Very nicely, but I do think we need to calm down about the cacti.” I pouted and he kissed my cheek.

“Hm, maybe.” I caught the cheeky smile as he walked away.

The move was easy, finding an apartment wasn’t. We came across a beautiful, two-story apartment in the heart of Manhattan that was pretty close to my new workplace. After my move back to New York, we went straight to looking for a place to share. He said he wanted it to be right in the heart of the city, but close enough to central park so our future kids could enjoy some greenery.

I laughed at him, but the thought still filled me with butterflies. I was excited to share my life with him, even if that came with a price. Some people just didn’t like seeing him with me on his arm and they made a point in showing it. Just a few weeks after I came back, we made an appearance at some award show, the photos I was tagged in on Instagram were mostly nice, but a lot weren’t so. My dress was too tight, my hair done terribly, and I felt worse because I made those choices. It was me to blame.

Despite the weight I felt from those comments, I knew I could step away from it whenever I pleased. I don’t have to put up with it. No one does.

With the shelve decorated to my liking, the apartment was almost finished, there were a few pictures that I wanted to hang on the walls, but that could wait.

Two Years Later

“We’re having spaghetti tonight.” Sebastian called from the kitchen; he knew I’d love it. (The spaghetti, not him calling from the kitchen.)

The chill of the night falling over New York put me in the mood to get comfy. I climbed up the stairs to our shared bedroom, crossing the room to the closet. I decided to change into my pyjamas, a decision I did not regret as I felt the soft fabric on my skin. I investigated the mirror to admire my husky onesie. I look cosy as fuck and I feel cosy as fuck.

The table hasn’t been set when I came down to the dining room and Sebastian noticed my confusion. “We’re having dinner outside if you don’t mind.” He filled to plates with food and gave me a quick kiss as he walked towards the balcony. I followed him out to discover the table beautifully set with flowers and fairy lights.

“Oh wow. This is so fancy.” I said while sitting down opposite Sebastian.

“Thank you, I actually put a lot of effort into this. By the way, cute outfit.” I looked down to the fluffiness that I was wearing and in the reflection of the glass next to me, I could see how weird I looked. “Yeah thanks.”

The husky and the Prince.

We soon devoured our food and just sat and laughed while drinking an alarming amount of wine. New York has never looked so pretty; this might just be because Sebastian is the foreground of the scenery in front of me.

Suddenly, Sebastian stood up from his seat. His face lit up with a smile on his face as he slowly went down on one knee. I was just about to register what was happening, my jaw slightly dropping.

“Y/n.” Sebastian held my hand in his, a red velvet box in the other. “I never knew this day would come so soon. I always thought I’d be fifty years old, still looking for the woman who I’m going to marry. And then you came along. Standing at my door with your ridiculous robe.”

I chucked, tears swelling up in my eyes.

“So, will you, Y/n, do me the honour and marry me?”

I stared at him, the tears now rolling down my face. “Yes.” I breathed out.

He slipped the ring on my finger, a diamond reflecting a million rainbows in the light of the sunset, hovering on the horizon of New York. And it dawned on me.

I just got engaged to Sebastian Stan, and I’m wearing a husky onesie.

Sebastian decided it would be good for me and his sanity to hire a wedding planner, even though I told him I could handle it on my own. I hate having someone else step on my toes and interfere with my plans but listened to him anyway and hired someone who could help me organize the day and everything around it.

While I still had a whole month to prepare the final details, I was sure we covered everything necessary that involved the venue, decorations, dress and every other detail I could think of.

I shuffled my shoes from my feet and walked over to the kitchen making myself a nice cup of coffee. I got a text from Sebastian telling me that he’ll be home by eleven, filming dragged on until then unfortunately, but it gave me some quiet time to get back to going through my planner trying to catch any mistakes I made.

I’ve never really been one to dream of the perfect wedding, but since starting this project of mine, I felt my need for perfectionism take over.

I grabbed the little folder, my laptop and my phone walking to the couch. I snuggled into a blanket, putting my mug on the coffee table. After a few hours of flipping through pages and finding no mistakes at all, which was usually the case, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hovering over the Tumblr icon. I hesitantly tapped it logging into my account.

A thing I occasionally did was search my own name. I know I shouldn’t, but something vile within me couldn’t stay away from the opinions of others, strangers, online. I scrolled through endless amounts of posts about myself, cringing and cry laughing at some of the posts. The memes were the best part about it, some people were just too funny. I came across some fanfiction about me… yes fanfiction… about me, skimming over the words. They weren’t bad… it was just a little strange reading it myself, but who am I to judge? I wrote fanfiction about the same man I am engaged to once a few moons ago. Ok more like a year ago, but my point still stands. I can’t judge.

But all fun had to come to an end when I stumbled upon posts about me that just weren’t so nice to look at. Some poking fun at my body, the way it looked in a certain outfit I wore while I was out with Sebastian, some straight up telling me how old I looked and some saying that I’m just not the right fit for him. I couldn’t say they hurt, but a little part of me, the very insecure one, believed them. But something I haven’t come across yet popped up right after all that was a post about me being a fan.

I was slightly intrigued, pondering in my head whether I wanted to read it or not. I could shut my phone off right now, I could step away from this and breathe, but something pulled me in, sucked me right in.

I couldn’t say the post was disgusting nor was it far away from the truth the further I read. The person articulating themselves very well. My stomach turned and twisted.

-I’m just asking myself how she fell in love with Sebastian? How can she know for sure that what she feels for him is actually love? If I got together with him, I would ask myself this. Even if it hurts, I would still question my feelings towards him. Is it actually love, or just the fan inside writing its own fanfiction? And let’s take this even further, they’re getting married… what if she realizes that after all, what she was feeling wasn’t love, it was just the fangirl inside, fulfilling her own fanfiction?-

What if… I’m not in love, but rather satisfying the fangirl within me.

I awoke to the soft morning light peeking through the white thin curtains, a weight on my middle pulling me closer to the body laying next to me. Sebastian laid on his stomach, his arm draped over my back, his hand gripping my waist as he exhaled deeply. He was in a deep slumber, but still keeping me at his side which made it impossible to move away from him.

I worked hard on removing his arm from my body to climb off of the bed, looking back at Sebastian as he shifted in the bed, rolling over to his back. I walked over to the bathroom connected to the bedroom to proceed my morning routine. I took off my baggy shirt and underwear, stepping into the shower to wash off the sweat of the night. Sebastian surely knows how to keep me up to a time where I should be sleeping.

I felt my muscles relax under the warm water, my hands gently massaging my body with fruit scented soap.

I left the shower, wrapping a towel around me, to turn my attention to my skincare routine, washing my face, putting on my serum and moisturizing my face. The door opened to Sebastian walking in, hugging me from behind, kissing my shoulder.

“Good morning, love.” He said, sleep sill in his voice. Sebastian stepped into the shower and I changed back into the comfortable shirt.

I made breakfast for the both of us before I had to get to work, Sebastian had a day off and I envied him for it.

We ate breakfast and I headed to work, but not before Sebastian pulled me into his arms, kissing me passionately. He took my left hand admiring the diamond ring on my finger. “I love you.” He said and I was out the door.

I arrived at work, dropping my bag on the desk, since the summer holidays were on their way, so are the people wanting to get away with their children and spouses alike. I turned my computer on preparing myself for the eight hours of recommending hotels, flights and things to do at their destination.

My boss, Linda, walked up to me an apologetic look on her face. I braced myself for what’s to come.

“Good morning, Y/n.” She sat down in front of my desk, a sandwich on a plate on her lap.

“Morning. What’s on the menu for today? Anything special?”

Linda laughed, dropping her head. “Y/n, I have to ask a favour. I know your wedding and honeymoon are on their way, but there was an incident. By the way, how’s the planning and your husband to be?”

“Good… good, I have everything set, nothing seems to be missing but a couple thousand dollars in Sebastian’s wallet.” Linda found this one funnier, throwing her head back, almost dropping her sandwich on the floor. “What’s the incident?”

“You know how Beck has a habit of finding ways to destroy her leg?”

I nodded, calling back to the many times Beck has had issues in keeping her leg in one piece. Not that she’s breaking it, rather bruising the shit out of it.” “Yeah, I do.”

“Well she done did it again.” We laughed in union. It became an inside joke by now. “I need you to fly to London for three weeks to inspect and review this hotel right in the heart of the city. It’s under a new owner and quite a few things have changed, I could ask Annie, but she’ll need to find someone to watch her kid. Don’t worry, you’ll be back in time for your wedding, which by the way, I can’t wait for. I already have my dress!”

I stared at her for a second. A trip to London was the last thing I thought I’d be doing right now, especially with the wedding just four weeks away. I pondered and the idea jumped around in my head. It would be kind of nice, getting out of the city, get my head in the game. Maybe think about my intentions of marrying Sebastian… try to find out if the fangirl inside is responsibe or not.

“Ok, sure, why not.” I smiled, Linda clapping her hands together, her Sandwich threatening to fall once again.

I arrived at home, taking my shoes off along with my coat. Linda gave me a folder with all the necessary information about the trip and all the points I needed to check out.

The only person that I now needed to confront was Sebastian.

I walked into the living room, seeing him sprawled across the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey, babe.” I said while approaching him. I sat down and laid his head on my lap. I leaned down, kissing his lips tenderly.

“How was work?” He asked, closing his eyes.

“Good. Y’know, a lot of people preparing for the summer.” I pondered for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Seb? I need to tell you something.”

He sat up immediately, his eyes looking onto mine desperately. He took my hands into his. I knew he was worried.

“I- I accepted a job to go to London for three weeks, to inspect a hotel, I know this is very close to our wedding date, but Linda said I was the only choice next to Annie, and she would have to look for someone to take care of her child.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. First thing.”

Sebastian exhaled deeply, looking away from me. “Feels like running to me.”

“Sebastian…” I squeezed his hands in mine. “I’m not running, nor and I going to stand you up at the altar, I just… have to figure some stuff out.

“So, you are running? What’s there to figure out?” “Did I propose too soon, should we postpone the wedding?”

It was me this time, exhaling, looking away from him. “I’m not sure if the feelings I have for you are my own or just an imagination from the fan I was- still am!” I looked at Sebastian, pleading for him to understand. “I don’t want to leave on bad terms or move the wedding to another day. I just have to figure out if I’m going to hurt you.”

His gaze finally met mine and I knew. I knew he didn’t understand the way I hoped he would.

“Y/n, I know that you love me and There’s nothing that changes that whether you were or still are a fan of me, I don’t give a shit. But if this is what you need to steer your mind into the right direction and lay your worries to rest, then do it.” Sebastian leaned in, kissing me softly. “I’ll be waiting for you, no matter what.”

Tears threated to fall down my cheeks, I didn’t know if this would resolve the storm within me, but I knew this was good, for both me and Sebastian.

We went to bed, holding each other tightly, tangled between the sheets, his hands on my body feverishly roaming every inch.

I packed my suitcase with my necessities, suddenly dreading my departure. I got a text telling me that my ride to the airport was downstairs.

As I stood at the door, Sebastian pulled me into a tight hug, whispering in my ear over and over how much he loves me and misses me already. I looked up to him cupping his cheeks with my hands pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

“I love you, Sebastian.” I couldn’t cry right now, but I’m sure he knew I wanted to.

He kissed the back of my left hand, his gaze lingering on the ring. “Come back and marry me, Y/n. I want to be your husband more than I wanted to be anything else.”

“I will.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

With that, I was out of the door, into the elevator. Mentally preparing myself.

London, here I come!

A/N pt.2: YES!! THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL TO THIS MASTERPIECE!! I have thought about it, consulted with @buckisthatyou about it and have come to the conclusion that I need to write it. And because we all want to know what it’s called:

House. It will be called house and no one can stop me.

Anyway, since I already wrote a Thank You post I will keep it short and sweet.

Thank you all for waiting for me to write this. If i had written it earlier, I probably would've not come up with a sequel. So everything has a purpose... right?

Thank you for reading and I will see you in

House!

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian x you #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan angst #nimi writes

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