#at one point near the end they were like 'can i get this printed at another store?' and i was like

[leonsrightarm]

i know i spend a significant portion of my time complaining about my job but to be fair it IS slowly driving me to the brink of a mental breakdown. today i had a fourteen minute phone conversation with this customer (i know because the phone timestamp told me it was that long) and the first three minutes were literally just me having to ask over and over and over again how many prints they wanted because for some reason they just wouldn't tell me!!! i was like 'how many prints do you want? how many cards do you want? i know you want them printed two-upped but how many individual cards do you want? i KNOW. you want 5x7's. i'm asking. HOW MANY. 5x7'S. YOU WANT.' and the entire conversation went on like that for legitimately fourteen minutes and i literally almost started crying halfway through when they asked me to explain the pricing breakdown for the fifth time. this has to be some circle of hell.

[and-corn]

Opinion on Waluigi?

So one year when I was in college, all my friends went home for a long weekend but I decided to stay on campus, so naturally when everyone was gone, I went to the library and used the school printers to print out a picture of Waluigi onto 15 pieces of paper, which I then taped together to create a near life size portrait. I then waited outside my friend’s dorm for like an hour until someone let me in the building, and I taped the 5 foot tall Waluigi to the door of his suite. I waited until my friends came back after the weekend and when he showed up he was like “someone waluigied my door” and I said, “what does that mean?” And he said “someone put a giant Waluigi on my door. Was it you?” And I said “how would I have even gotten into your building?” And he didn’t question that at all so he thought that some random person was enacting a guerrilla Waluigi graffiti campaign on him specifically. Then one of my other friends took the Waluigi down from the door and put it in the shower of his suite, which we only realized when it was already too late because my friend came into the common room the following day and said “I think Eric [his suite-mate] showered with Waluigi.” Which is objectively the funniest thing someone can say and by that point we were like, “well, we might as well just leave it” so Waluigi stayed on the shower wall for the entire semester. And obviously I had taped the entire surface to functionally laminate it, so Waluigi survived and thrived in pristine condition as a shower companion for 3 months. Finally at the end of the year I decided to reveal the big mystery, so I created an elaborate scavenger hunt with like 10 different clues taking my friend all over campus to find out who put Waluigi on his door. It took him almost two hours to do the whole thing, but it led him straight to me, and he was like “I should’ve been studying for my exam tomorrow” and now he blames me for getting a C on his bio final.

anyway Waluigi is fine. Certainly not my first pick for Mario kart, but the way he’s animated in Mario and Sonic Olympic Games is pretty hilarious

[court-jobi]

Alexa, Play...

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24~used w permission))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader

Words: 1.6k

Rating: G~

Warnings: Southern US!GNreader, comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, language barrier, dancing-in-the-kitchen level self-insert

Summary:

Izuku comes home to spot your grocery list on the fridge written out in your native language- something he sees just as rarely as hearing you speak it. Just when he thinks he couldn't possibly find you more adorable, you strike a match and chuck it into his heart with a touch as simple as a peck on his cheek, a laugh thrown his way... or -like now- when you chat over the phone in an accent he never gets to hear. He wants to hear more so badly, and asks for it so sweetly.

A/N: a short n'sweet one today, folks, bc I was missing writing for this sweet green bean. I have yet to see MHA: You're Next, but have no one to see it with ughhhhh so off to writing fanfic to soothe the pain~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

You're on the phone with your mom when Izuku finds your sticky note for shopping on the fridge. His mindful shut of the door was appreciated by your mouthed apology, but let him know that he'd best occupy himself solo for a bit while you catch up. The time difference between your home country and here leaves your windows to chat limited, so he’s happy when your schedules align like this. 

If you'll be on a while longer, he thinks he can take a quick drive and pick up these few things for you. Inspired by the idea, he plucks the list out from the magnet’s hold.

You've got nice handwriting, a blend between printed letters and a tilted, cursive script. Personality shines especially near the end of a word, when you're rushing to move onto the next thought. 

Painter’s tape

bananas

white vinegar (stupid drain line)

It's so simple, but when it's written in your native language by default, it feels like a secret to be reading even something so simple as a list like this– scribbled out in the way as it appears in your head.

For most formal paperwork, your kana characters are decently executed, though it's always going to be harder when you grew up speaking Japanese rather than filling out lines and lines of bellwork in the kanji style. This isn't to say you've not been trying:

Over the course of your courtship, you've bonded with young Eri as an extension of Izuku's life and have inherited some of her early learning textbooks. You happened on them by accident, when you were helping her paint her room a few months ago. It sounded elementary when you expressed the interest to read and write Japanese better, and the sweet girl was so enthusiastic to help! 

She lent you her books, but of course you weren't becoming an expert overnight. However slow you’d pace yourself, Izuku was plenty proud of you for making the effort. He'd allow you as much grace as he could spare– especially since your notes were still so cute to find here and there~

Across the room, pacing along every other tile on the floor like stepping stones, you look up catching Izuku staring. You’ve been deep in conversation for only about an hour, but give him a wrench of your nose in jest, and begin wrapping up the call explaining that he’s home and you’d like to greet him properly. 

Izuku calls out a quick 'hi’ and ‘bye' to your mom when he motions to go on speaker; you're not one to refuse him, as he well knows. 

You seem pleased on more than one front when he asks to talk to your family, so he continues to do it. For one, you’re touched by how spirited he is to even want to interact with your mother, and his dropping of formalities and reverting to English to speak to her means a lot to you. Neither point is lost on sweet Izuku, based on how your smile brightens when he jogs over to you to be more in speaking range. 

When you hang up, you're quick to pop up and kiss him as a welcome home. Izuku hangs onto you a little longer than usual, thumb rubbing into your cheek as he savors you several times in quick succession. 

Just when he thinks he couldn't possibly find you more adorable, you strike a match and chuck it into his heart with a touch as simple as a peck on his cheek or a laugh thrown his way. 

“‘Zuku, what's that look for, babe?” 

In your sentimental bliss, you're still surprised to get such adoring treatment from him almost a year into a relationship. 

“Nothing,” Izuku chimes back, “I just forget that you're this American sometimes~”

“Whaddya mean, ‘you forget’?!” the concept sounds hilarious to you. 

“I do!” Izuku offers to take your phone to plug it in nearby, “I have to remind myself that Japanese isn't your first language, until I see you on FaceTime with your mom. Out of nowhere, I'll just hear you sound so different, like: ‘byyyye~ talk to y'all later’!”

You snort at his attempt at a southern accent– stiff and stuck on the wrong vowels. Clearly this succeeds in amusing you, because you hop up and down on the balls of your feet like you've discovered a new game:

“Oh my God, ‘Texas Smash Deku’ is the stuff of my fantasies!– oo!! say, ‘I’d like a honey butter chicken biscuit’~”

“WHAT?? N-no!!”

“What YES!! Please??”

Both doubled over in laughter, you're entertained over his thorough embarrassment, but you're both smitten and carefree: holding onto each other despite nearly buckling at the knees.

Izuku tries his best to catch his breathe first, determined to explain himself,

“I can't do it right! It's like- you say things- I don't know how to describe it! It's not just the flat, movie star accent.. It's–"

“What, a-- ‘drawl’? ‘Twang’?”

Izuku snaps at the realization.

“Yes!! That!! The country kind, like that chef you watch!”

You've rolled your eyes, stepping out of his kind hold in favor of checking out what takeout he brought home. 

“-Hey, no, come back!”

“‘Makin’ fun'ah my accent, I outta smack you’.”

You're far from really mad as you tote around the kitchen getting silverware and soy sauce, but Izuku follows you around like a shadow regardless. Eyes full of that puppy love, he does try to block you in from the pantry closet,

“I’m sorry, honey~”

“No you're not.” --but you're grinning out of forgiveness anyway.

Izuku sneaks a hold on you, reeling you in. It’s cozy in your shared kitchen, alight with just the right amount of overhead lighting and enough space for you two to stand and share tasks.

“I do like hearing you talk like that,” he shares contentedly, ���It’s nice to listen to that side of you, especially when you have a lot to say.”

“Yeah well,” you turn into his arms, rather than away, “I'm sure you've noticed already, it comes from her side of the family. Guess I can't really ditch the accent whenever I switch back. The more I think about it… I'm gonna be happy if I can keep sounding like her as I get older. Lets me keep something of hers- even if my ‘dashing hero’ of a man over here thinks I'm being cheeky."

“No, I'm not teasing now! I mean it,” Izuku presses into you, “I only meant, you don't hold back or anything when you're chatty with her.”

He wonders if it stems from shyness, your avoidance of using too much English here at home. If you’re jamming out while doing chores -presuming you’re alone- you’ll switch the station once you know you have an audience.

“Not trying to hide it with you! I'm just out of practice here. No one else in our circle really uses English, so it doesn't come up, I guess.”

You make the point with a wistful aire. Occasionally you'll sub English classes as a favor to Izuku’s effervescent coworker at UA, but not often enough to get too much exposure. He's always been impressed with your Japanese diction, and thinks you could very well go into teaching if you ever wanted a career change.

Still, whether its for work or play, it’s a sound that’s intrinsically you, and there’s a magic to it that Izuku finds himself chasing. A secret power of yours, if he could only unlock it.

“--Plus, I don't think a lot of the slang translates over?” you get comfortable in his arms, locking your fingers behind his neck with no intention of leaving as you muse, “You guys have your own here, and that’s hard to figure out anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right.” 

Tenderly, you run your nails through his hair, a thoughtful look up to him, 

“Do you want me to use it more at home? Lay on the sugar for ya?”

A chance to hear you at your core? Watch your handwritten notes come alive?

“If you want-” Izuku softens, “-if you’re comfortable.”

“Can you understand me though?”

“I can hear you. It only gets hard when you get excited, ‘cuz you talk fast.”

You fuss back at him, “Oh, as if you don't.”

Caught under your hypocritical eye, he can only offer an honest chuckle back, “Fair~”

But for all of your feeling put on the spotlight, you seem to hold a soft spot for the way Izuku makes his requests:

“ ‘I guess I can indulge ya, since you asked so nicely.’ ”

–and it’s enough for him to try his hand to give you a linguistic sparring partner right back:

“ ‘Say something else.’ ”

All English flies out the window when he's looking at you like this, as you fall under a fit of nervous laughter, “What am I supposed to say?!” 

“ ‘Sing me a song, my love. Something 'twangy'.”

You giggled, "'Twangy', good Lord…” 

Izuku could write novels on everything from your finest features to even your most pensive insecurities, romanticizing each of them into a beautifully imperfect anthology. He does so in his mind, at least, when you’re barely lucid on the edge of sleep but still trying to engage him in meaningful conversation. He’ll do so in the notes on his phone, when he learns of yet another favorite token of yours, and wants to add it to the list of comfort measures he can refer to when you need it most.

And when you prompt Alexa to play your newly revealed ‘Karaoke hours that will never see the light of day’ playlist -the one that’s chock-full of female power ballads which you begin to sing your own rendition to-  Izuku is certain his mind nor fingers nor heart can catalog how much more he can possibly love you… though he’ll dance in place with you as he listens and soaks it all in.

[t1oui]

going to school and being friends with percy jackson would be REALLY WEIRD so let's discuss it rq

he gets dropped off every day in his stepfather's car, which inexplicably has hoof prints on the hood?

the panic attacks... there's a lot of them, and nobody can even tell what's triggering them at this point

the old counselor disappears about a week into his first year at AHS (here's some cotg lore for yall) and is replaced by a weird lady who finds a way to bring percy up to every. single. student. who visits her office.

randomly disappears multiple times throughout the year

very very sea green eyes and a gray streak in his hair

once got out of the pool after swim practice and was completely dry (he insists it was a trick of the light)

the blue food obsession ofc

talks about his girlfriend annabeth all the time... even his friends are convinced it's a "my canadian girlfriend" situation bc he never calls her. he doesn't even have a PHONE

always carries around a pen in his pocket and even though it's just a shitty old ballpoint, NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT. also he never uses it. ever.

every teacher has sent an email with their concerns about him to the counselor and when that doesn't work to his parents. the responses are always very awkward and vague

talks about his bio dad a lot... never explicitly negative but bro clearly has daddy issues lol

will sometimes randomly mention camp/war/gods and then brush it off like it never happened

absolutely vibrated in his seat the entirety of the greek mythology unit... told the teacher "a demigod named perseus fought ares once" and the teacher just assumes he means the og (aka the one he's named after)

that one upbeat popular guy everybody knows absolutely nothing about, his friends included

they probably have a spreadsheet with all the info they actually DO know about him

finds a way to brag about his mom in every conversation no matter how irrelevant... his friends are used to it atp

everyone's so used to seeing him smiling and laughing that when, say, he catches a younger kid being bullied, it's actually terrifying to see how angry he gets. everybody in that hallway gets chills

there's something off about him and nobody can tell what. that's just how he is

sometimes weird people in weird outfits are hanging around the school and they're ALWAYS looking for him.

every time someone asks what college he's going to he gives a different answer or straight up avoids answering so nobody actually knows

(if he says a school and someone is like "omg me too" he changes his answer right then and there lol... he's like "oh nvm i forgot i'm actually going here my bad" and the person is so confused)

nobody ever sees him working on college applications but he complains about having to do them all the time... bro is like "yeah i had to go through a sewer system but at least my girlfriend and my best friend were there" and his friends are like yo HUH

never explains anything he says

presentation night presentation = all the shittiest things my family has done and he's laughing about it but wdym your aunt kidnapped you and gave you amnesia???

sometimes he's getting fed up with a teacher or another student and a pipe randomly bursts in the school. like it's weird how often his anger ends in a plumber being called when he's nowhere near the problem

where everyone else is excited to watch a movie and chill in class, percy complains through the entirety of hercules - not just "oh this movie sucks", more like "god hercules is such a dick, idk why they made him chill in this movie"

the weirdest part is how, when percy complains about zeus being a good dad in the movie, it starts thundering outside

nobody can keep track of how many schools he's been to at this point... there's a whole section of the spreadsheet for this

when percy's friends finally meet annabeth they are SHOOK bc they truly did not think this girl was real

alright i can't think of anything else but if i DO i will add on later

[yerimacoustic]

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙨 ♡ joshua x reader

↳ ❝ 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ❞ 🧺🦢☁️

summary: your parents have been in a very public rivalry with joshua’s since before you were born, yet the two of you can’t seem to stay away from each other. secret relationship au, actor!josha and model!reader, joshua hong x afab reader. also featuring vernon and mingyu. 8.4k wc.

content warnings: fluff (joshua is literally just a sweetheart), a little bit of angst, overbearing/controlling parents, strong language, brief suggestive content (make out sesh in the coat closet), champagne drinking, it’s probably not very good since i’m just getting back into writing </3 18+ mdni!

soundtrack: secret love song by little mix, they don’t know about us by one direction, see you again by tyler the creator and kali uchis, telepatía by kali uchis, sober by childish gambino, slut! by taylor swift, and ofc darling by seventeen

for anyone else, going to a movie premiere in the spur of the moment wasn’t much of a risk at all. any of joshua’s other fans could watch his new movie in public without experiencing any scrutiny. with all of that being said, there was no reason you should have been waiting near the staff entrance with a baseball cap and sunglasses. and yet, you were peering around corners and checking your watch every two seconds.

he was only two minutes late. it’s no big deal. maybe he was just preparing one of his speeches or getting his makeup touched up.

or.. he could have finally chosen to listen to his parents and stop seeing you. he could have realized that your relationship put both of your careers and reputation in jeopardy. he could have been rehearsing his breakup speech with you.

before you could prepare yourself for a theoretical rebuttal, the door swung open. and you were graced with quite possibly the most beautiful sight to behold- joshua, himself. he wore a navy blue suit, suede. he had bleached his hair recently; it was still taking some getting used to, but it was a lovely color on him. it was snow white, minus a few streaks of yellow along the ends. all in all, he looked like an angel.

neither of you wasted a second, throwing your arms around each other as he pulled you in for a deep, slow kiss. your hands rested on your shoulders, leaving prints of your palms on the fuzzy, napped fabric. you smiled into the kiss, relieved that your doubts proved to be fruitless, and he quickly reciprocated.

“thanks for coming,” he whispered to you. “i know you’ve been really busy.”

you shrugged, “its nothing i’m not used to. besides.. i had to see you. it’s been too long.”

joshua pulled away just enough to look in your eyes, adoration filling his own. with a quiet chuckle, he slowly removed the sunglasses from your face and folded them over his dress shirt. just as you moved your hands up in protest, he grabbed them both and laced his fingers with yours. “you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. can we go somewhere tonight? anywhere.”

“I-” you stopped, drawing in a shaky breath. your breathing came to a complete stop, as if you were waiting for someone to burst through the door at any moment. “i don’t know. where would we go? i bet everyone in the city knows which hotel you’re staying at.”

he snickered, “good point. but they probably don’t know which one you’re staying at.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in mock offense, “and what exactly are you implying?”

“that your fans have a little more common sense and decency than mine,” joshua sighed, though there was no sign of self-pity in his voice. he moved a hand away from yours to brush through your hair, detangling a few tiny strands.

“if only that were the case,” you chuckled gloomily. “let’s go to the restaurant by my hotel. there’s a rooftop terrace, i could buy it out for the two of us.”

“someone likes their privacy,” joshua teased. “i’ll be there. gimme a few hours after the movie ends and i’ll run to you.”

“it’s a date.” you smiled giddily and cupped his chin with your thumb and index finger, pressing your lips against his once more. and once again, the two of you smiled once graced with the pressure of a light, chaste kiss. “now, i’ve gotta get going. i’ve got a movie to watch.”

joshua’s eyes went wide; when the two of you made arrangements to sneak around that day, he wasn’t expecting you to purchase a ticket to his premiere. he expected a quick little meeting, a few kisses, words of affirmation.. he knew that the two of you were already taking great risks as it was, he didn’t expect you to take another one. “well you’ll have to tell me all about it tonight.”

“looking forward to it.” you stole another kiss from him, trying not to ruin any of his makeup. there would be plenty of time for that later. you also lifted up your sunglasses from the collar of his shirt, sliding them back on with a mischievous smirk before waving goodbye and turning your back on him.

getting into the theater wasn’t much of a problem, oddly enough. it was somewhat alarming, the realization that no one recognized you as you wore one of the most basic disguises of all time. still, you opted to sit in the very back of the theater. not only were you afraid of potentially stealing the spotlight away from joshua , but the mere thought of your parents getting wind of this was terrifying.

both of your parents had had a very public rivalry since before either of you were born. your mothers were both models, and were best friends for a long time. that was.. until your mother stole one of the most important modeling gigs from joshua’s mother. and her manager. and her celebrity crush. they ended up breaking up before she met your dad but still!

then, your mother just had to marry a football player. and joshua’s mother was quick to retaliate, entering into a marriage of convenience with a player on a rival team. needless to say, you and joshua had been forbidden from even speaking to each other, let alone supporting each other’s work. let alone falling in love…

to be fair, neither of you ever saw it coming. until you met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, the two of you had some pretty horrible preconceived notions of each other that were proven false after a private rooftop conversation. after all, they’d been planted in both of your brains since the two of you were children.

it started out as privately messaging on instagram. then when the two of you started traveling more, you moved to whatsapp. then joshua plucked up the courage to ask you for your private number and then you started meeting each other in secret wherever you could. exclusive bars and restaurants, botanical gardens, private hotels and residences… not even your closest friends knew. and it would stay that way for a long, long time.

sometimes it hurt, yes. some days were easier than others.. but it hardly bothered you as you stared up at the silver screen. dark fantasy films were making a comeback, joshua being at the center of the industry’s revolution. you leaned back in your seat, smiling dumbly at the sight of your beloved in one of those fluffy pirate shirts, exploring an unknown, frightening realm while finding love along the way…

—------------------------------------

it was cold that night. wind brushed through your hair while you kept your arms folded across the balcony, nipping at your nose and fingertips. you could see your breath, small clouds forming with each steady breath you took. you looked back towards the door near the center of the rooftop for the twentieth time; he had not stood you up yet, but the fear was always there.

your lockscreen remained empty, the only notifications being messages from your manager, vernon. several reminders about your interviews and photoshoots tomorrow, his ever present dry tone practically audible as you read the notes to yourself. it seemed you couldn’t escape reality for a second, even if you tried.

the slanted rooftop door opened quietly, but it didn’t startle you. you paid the maître d’ not to let anyone except for him upstairs. joshua stood in the doorway for a moment, letting the music from inside the restaurant ring through the air before shutting the door and muffling the smooth jazz. he watched you stare out at the city in quiet contemplation, approaching you timidly.

“the city’s so beautiful this time of night,” you told him quietly without turning to face him. “i wish we could stay here. just a little bit longer.”

he let his hands rest on the railing, one of them brushing against your elbow at the movement. “you’re heading back tomorrow?”

you nodded, “two more interviews, one more photoshoot. then it’s back home for a few weeks.” you looked back towards him. “you too?”

he shook his head, “there’s another showing in paris this weekend. and then in milan, then L.A….”

you tried to hide your disappointment, standing up a little bit taller. “well..i’m free for the next few weeks, so we’ll just.. work something out.”

joshua smiled, a pang of pain nearly visible within the movement. the flash of emotion was gone as quickly as it had first appeared, his beautiful, familiar smile quick to replace the pitiful look in his eyes. “perfect” was all he could say in the moment. “well..let’s make the most of the time we have together, then.”

“i couldn’t agree more.” with a chuckle, you led him towards a table near the center of the rooftop. It was the only one covered in a tablecloth and lit candle, where a bottle of chilled champagne and glasses awaited the two of you. you were the one to take the initiative, pouring a respectable amount of the cristal champagne in both glasses. you looked up to him as you rose yours, and he was quick to mirror your actions. “i loved your movie, by the way.”

he snickered with a bashful nod of his head, “i thought you might. you always had a dark sense of humor.”

“and a love for fantasy and romance,” you countered, taking a meager sip from your glass. “it was nice to escape reality with you, joshua. even just for a little while.”

he smiled dumbly, as if the endless amounts of compliments from critics meant nothing to him compared to what you had to say about his work. “i’m glad my performance was convincing to you,” he mused, an awfully sappy look in his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “but this-” he gestured to the empty space surrounding the two of you, “it’s really nice. thank you.”

you shook your head dismissively, “it was nothing.”

“no, i’m serious,” he told you, setting down his glass in favor of taking your free hand in his. “i haven’t had more than five minutes to myself in almost two months. i’m grateful that you would do something like this for me.”

once his warm hand was wrapped around yours, you felt prompted to look up in his eyes. his beautiful dark brown eyes.. “this wasn’t just for you, you know,” you teased him helplessly. “i’ve been needing some time to myself. you have no idea how insufferable vernon actually is.”

joshua laughed out loud, “i would have expected nothing less. someone has to keep you in line.” his hand briefly swatted at your elbow for effect.

“he’s not doing a very good job, is he?” this time, you were the one to gesture towards the space of the empty rooftop around you before facing him fully. comfortable silence passed between the two of you, warmth flooding your chest the second you got a better look at his eyes. then you whispered, “dance with me.”

joshua knew he would have been a fool to decline such a request. sorry, such a command. he was quick to set down his glass, which was half full by now. after settling on the best playlist of classy tunes he could find on spotify, he stepped towards you with a mischievous grin. once your arms were linked around his neck, his were curled around your waist in an effort to bring you closer to the warmth of his chest.

the two of you swayed in perfect time with the symphonies of strings that rang through the tiny speaker of his phone. your chin came to relax on his shoulder while his face was nestled comfortably into your hair. neither of you spoke for a moment, soaking in each other’s warmth. enjoying each other’s presence, uninterrupted, while you still could guarantee that no one unwanted would barge in on you. even your heartbeats were in perfect synch as you swayed in circles amongst the candlelight.

joshua’s touch was feather-light, but firm at the same time. there was confidence in the way he held onto your hips, fingers delicately tracing patterns in the fabric- but it wasn’t the boldest movement. he wasn’t making any efforts to insinuate that he wanted something else from you- no. it was more like he was trying to set your weary mind at ease. he knew that these less than ideal circumstances weighed on you, just like they weighed on him.

he’d washed the gel from earlier out of his hair, that much was clear once you ran your fingertips through the snow white strands. weaving the locks through your hands in gentle motions, you allowed yourself to take another step closer towards him. there was no room for either of you to even breathe without feeling the impact of the other’s chest rising and falling. you took a deep breath, getting a faint whiff of his cologne- a familiar scent of pine that you associated with him and him only.

neither of you said another word as you lifted your head up from his shoulder without breaking away from him. his lips were mere inches away from yours as the two of you stopped swaying just to get a better look at each other. the music swelled as the climax of the latest song rang through the air, painting a picture perfect moment for the two of you. you and joshua both studied each other, as if you were taking a mental note to memorize the godlike features in front of you.

After a moment, you couldn’t wait much longer. you pressed your lips against his, hoping to communicate more to him than words could in that moment. actions always spoke much louder, anyways. he seemed to agree; for her returned your kiss with fervor, cupping your cheek while his other hand kept his grip on your waist. your hands stayed in his hair even when you broke the kiss to press your forehead against his.

“let’s just stay up here for a little bit longer.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

your eyes were glued to the tiny screen in front of you once your makeup was finished. now that you had some time to yourself, you could fixate on the most recent message you had sent to joshua: ‘i’m leaving again on the fourteenth, ik that’s your first day back in town. come over to my place.’

‘my place.’ you two had never been brave enough to meet at each others’ private residences. you knew the risks that came with it; the fear that nosy reporters or stalkers could follow you home, that either one of your friends or family members could burst in through the door.. if only there was a channel of tunnels underground designed especially for you two.

anyways, you chose to forgo sounding like a broken record and voicing your familiar concerns towards him. the three bubbles appeared on screen, blinking in the rhythmic pattern. they stayed there for a moment; he was obviously thinking really hard about what to say next. your heart nearly stopped beating completely, your breath catching in your throat, and then..

“y/n,” a voice from behind you mused.

you hurriedly pushed the power button, letting the phone fall to your lap while looking over your shoulder. vernon stood with his hands in his pockets with a blank expression. somehow you were able to read your deadpan manager like a book by now; right now, he was unhappy with you. “oh good, you’re ready. what’s taking so long?”

you sighed, “sorry. there’s just a lot on my mind.”

“like what?” vernon took a seat next to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“i don’t know how many more times i can talk about who i’m wearing or who did my makeup or what i hope to see make a comeback this fashion season,” you answered truthfully. “i’m really tired.”

vernon tried to offer a reassuring smile, his best effort being a mere tug at the one corner of his lips. “this is your last day, then you get a few weeks off. you’ll have plenty of time to rest, clear your mind.”

your eyes briefly fixated on the ceiling as you tried to figure out what to say next. “i mean in general. don’t you think that i could be doing something a lot more..meaningful?”

“where is all of this coming from?” vernon was puzzled; you were never one to complain about your occupation. you knew that you were blessed, that there were a lot of perks that outweighed the cons most of the time..you’d known that for years now. why were you suddenly having second thoughts?

“i’m.. not sure.” for a brief moment, you contemplated telling vernon about your true feelings for joshua. but you quickly realized that there were two possible directions he could take with the new information: for one, he could tell your parents. he was loyal to them, not just to you. two, he could hear you out. as your manager, he had been there for you on a physical and emotional level.

but.. you weren’t sure if now was a good time to take that risk. you stood up, checking your empty lockscreen under the guise of checking the time. “let’s get this over with,” you told him.

vernon nodded sympathetically before following suit and opening the door for you. “the second they’re done asking questions, you’re on the first plane home. you have my word.

“and listen- we’ll talk more on the way home, okay?”

you flashed him a smile of gratitude before letting out a quiet sigh. to tell the truth, you were more focused on your intense heartbeat than anything else. what did joshua have to say that was so important it took him five whole minutes and counting to type it? however, it was nothing compared to the disappointment you felt after the interview when you came back to another empty notification center.

—----------------------------------

you didn’t stop checking your phone for new messages, even when you got home. every single time you were greeted by the two checkmarks, indicating that joshua had, in fact, read your message. what was taking him so long? had his phone been intercepted somehow? or had he finally realized…

you were ready to call it quits and fling your duffle bag onto the couch on the way to the kitchen, following through with your nightly routine. chamomile tea with a mint face mask, dimmed lighting and forest rain asmr playing on the television. however, your mother, who was sitting on said sofa with her back towards you, had other plans.

the sight of her didn’t scare you; you’d grown accustomed to her barging into your home and waiting for you to get back from work trips. sometimes you seriously wondered if she knew your schedule better than you did. maybe it was a good thing joshua was ghosting you.

“good to see you, mom,” you told her casually while making your way to the kitchen. not even her looming presence could stop you from brewing a much needed cup of tea.

she furrowed her eyebrows, taking offense at how casually you blew her off in favor of going to the stove. “that’s all?”

you flicked the stove on, waiting for the water to boil. with your back towards her you rolled your eyes, “what’s going on with you? how have you been?”

slapping her hands over her knees, she stood up from the couch abruptly. “i have excellent news, young lady. the kims are throwing a birthday party tonight for their oldest son, mingyu. and guess who has been personally invited?”

you pulled out your favorite mug, a light blue one with pale butterflies scattered across the cup. “i don’t know. vernon?”

your mother huffed, “you! mrs. kim told me that mingyu wants to meet you personally. your father and i will accompany you, of course, now let’s-”

“wait a minute, wait a minute, hold on-” you turned to face her, holding your hands up. “i literally just finished a month-long gig and went to five different countries. i don’t feel like going to a birthday party for someone i’ve never even met.”

“oh come on! just take a quick nap, and don’t drink any of this sleepytime tea.” she reached over to turn the stove off and move the kettle out of the way. “i’ll pick out your outfit while you get some rest. i want you looking your best tonight!”

before you could even think about protesting, she was gently pushing you into your bedroom. she made her own way to the closet after making sure you were seated on the edge of your bed, flicking the light on with a hum of satisfaction. she began muttering to herself while you tried to get comfortable among the blankets and pillows you’ve missed so dearly, “oh yes, you’ve got so many good options… oh this color would look marvelous on you… oh mingyu loves the color blue, you’ll-”

“MOM!” you shrieked, covering your ears with the nearest pillow.

—--------------------------

of course, it was no surprise to you that your mother had chosen one of the most uncomfortable dresses in your possession. it was dark blue, short and sequined, completely backless save a series of tiny laces clinging to your lower back. you’d worn several outfits just like it in photoshoots, but you’d never felt more exposed in your life. the cold air crashed upon your bare legs as you stood in the driveway, gazing up at the kims’ mansion in a pained stupor.

this wasn’t how your night was supposed to go.

your parents, with a hand resting on either of your shoulders, led you into their close friends’ house. it was just like any other party they had dragged you along to, several esteemed guests mingling politely with champagne in hand. waiters in white tuxedos carried glasses around, wearing blank expressions that would put robots to shame. a classical string quartet played over the speakers, once that provoked you to reminisce about the special moment you and your beloved shared just a few nights prior…

your mother was quick to pull your tiny coat off of your shoulders, handing it to the nearest waiter to dispose of it properly. the air was much warmer, that much you were grateful for. “let’s go find her,” she spoke of her close friend, your gracious host. “she shouldn’t be too far behind.”

you deadpanned as she kept a firm grip onto your hand, pulling you through the crowd. you spotted a few familiar faces, friends of friends. but no one that you particularly wanted to see. although the music was classical, soothing, you could’ve sworn it was getting louder and louder by the second. you stopped in your tracks to grab a glass of champagne, knowing that it would do little to calm your nerves. but you took a quick sip anyways.

of course, your mother snatched the glass from your hands once the two of you came face to face with a woman dressed to the nines. she wore an elegant dress and pearls, making you second guess your choice of apparel (not for the first time that night), her dark hair in a slick bun. she turned to her friend(?), your mother, giving her a warm smile, “i’m so glad you could make it!”

“thank you for inviting us!” your mother chirped, tugging you closer to her by gripping onto your furthest hip. “this is my lovely daughter, y/n. she just got home, she’s been working nonstop for the past month.”

“hi,” you chimed in awkwardly, grinning.

mrs. kim looked to you, her smiled laced with pride, “i think i recognize you. mingyu and i noticed you in several television ads in one sitting! it’s great to finally meet you in person.” before you could thank her, she turned her back on the two of you in favor of grabbing a young man’s hand and prompt him to join your small circle. “ladies, this is my son, mingyu.”

you could admit that kim mingyu was objectively very attractive. he was tall, with wavy dark hair and a cut jawline of steel. you expected someone with his status (and honestly, his looks) to take one look at you and walk in the other direction with his nose up in the air. but he didn’t. he extended a hand towards you, beaming. “hi.”

“hi, happy birthday,” you whispered, bashfully taking his hand. “i’m-”

“i already know who you are,” he cut you off, not that you were going to complain about it. however, once he realized that he interrupted your train of thought, he smiled bashfully, “sorry. we’ve just.. seen you on the tv for a while now. it’s lovely to meet you.”

“we’ll leave the two of you alone,” your mother giggled, joining hands with mrs. kim and booking it out of the kitchen. much to your utter horror. you didn’t know why you were so surprised; your mother’s penchant for evil was growing stronger and stronger everyday, it seemed.

the two of you stood awkwardly for a moment, mirroring awkward smiles and nervous laughs. luckily, mingyu broke the silence before you could, “do you wanna get out of here?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, momentarily confused. “..huh?”

“i mean- there’s a balcony just outside. i need some fresh air, it’s awfully stuffy in here.” the tall man chuckled, briefly grabbing at the collar of his dress shirt for effect. he had a very nice smile, one that seemed to be especially suited for film and television. there was a kindness in his eyes; he only wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

“oh- oh! yeah, that sounds really nice, actually.” you chuckled. only when you were greeted by the familiar cold air did you remember that you were not well dressed for this particular weather. once mingyu shut the door behind you, your arms were promptly folded over your chest, your palms moving up and down to provide the skin of your upper arms any sense of warmth. needless to say, it was not very effective.

“shit-” mingyu caught on quickly, throwing his blazer off his shoulders and draping it along your much smaller frame. you were soon drowned in the fabric, chuckling at how it could wrap around your entire body and then some. “sorry. i didn’t-”

“no, no it’s okay!” you laughed. “i- forgot what i was wearing for a second. my mom picked this dress out for me. she doesn’t usually do that, i swear.” inwardly, you were kicking yourself for your word choice- why did you feel the need to tell him that?

mingyu snickered, “don’t worry, i know all about that. my mom had this tailored specifically for tonight. we take birthdays pretty seriously around here.”

you nodded, unsure of what else to say in the moment. the two of you stared down the balcony in somewhat uncomfortable silence. there were already a handful of guests leaving, which undoubtedly would soon be replaced by more friends and family members. you envied those who climbed into the getaway cars, laughing and recalling the events of that night. still, you knew you had to be polite.

“so-” you both said at the same time before promptly bursting into a fit of chuckles.

“you first, birthday boy,” you chuckled.

you could have sworn mingyu tilted his head to hide a growing beam upon hearing the affectionate nickname you’d bestowed upon him. “well.. tell me more about yourself. do you have any hobbies?”

you lifted your chin up, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation as if you’d forgotten every little detail about yourself in a moment’s notice. “well…not really. don’t have a lot of time to myself. sometimes i read.”

“what kind of books?”

“you know.. the usual. nonfiction, i like a lot of history books. also.. i read some romance novels every now and again.”

mingyu chuckled in amusement, “ohhh so you’re one of those readers.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, mocking offense. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing!” mingyu was quick to throw his hands up in mock defense, snickering. you could tell the expression of guilt on his face was genuine, a sympathetic yet sheepish grin on his lips. “nothing. you just don’t look like the type to read smut in your free time.”

“well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you teased, smirking broader by the second. you’d even forgotten all about the freezing winds practically biting at your skin, thanks to him. he was easy to banter with, you could give him that much.

mingyu didn’t say anything at first, smiling bashfully towards you as if the last statement was.. promising to him. a moment of silence passed between you, your eyes instinctively falling over the balcony as a hum escaped your lips. even in your brief peace of mind, nothing could have prepared you for what he asked you next.

“are you seeing anyone right now?”

you chuckled bashfully, wondering how he jumped so quickly from such an icebreaker to a deeply personal question. “um..no. are you?”

mingyu shook his head, grinning dumbly. “my mom tries setting me up with girls all the time. that’s mostly what this birthday party is: an excuse for her to parade me in front of eligible bachelorettes.”

“i’m sorry to hear that,” you told him with sincerity, bringing his jacket a bit closer to your chest. “i get it, though. both of my parents have been pressuring me to start dating more seriously too.”

“and i imagine it's a bit harder for you too,” mingyu replied sympathetically. he had a point; there were a lot more double standards for women in the industry involving dating, hell, even just existing. you were either seen as a prude for staying single or a gold digger if you chose to date someone just as wealthy, if not more wealthy than you. there never seemed to be a happy medium, but you’d made peace with that long ago.

you shrugged. “it is what it is. frankly, i’m more concerned about keeping food on the table than seeing what the gossip magazines have to say about me.”

mingyu chuckled, albeit sadly. “well said.”

neither of you seemed to be quite sure where the conversation would go from there. there seemed to be little to no interest in elaborating on the particularly forward question he’d asked you. keeping that sentiment in mind you turned towards him, offering a small smile towards the much taller man. “should we head inside? i don’t want your mother to get the wrong idea.”

he snickered, “i could use a drink, anyways.”

he was gracious enough to let you wear his jacket just until he opened the door for you. you let out a faint sigh of relief once the familiar warmth flooded against your skin, reaching your hands up to slip the large pool of fabric off your shoulders.

but the moment you took your eyes off mingyu, your heart nearly lept out of your chest at the sight of joshua not five feet in front of you, reaching for another glass of champagne. your eyes locked, his own going wide with the realization you had caught him in a lie for the first time. he was able to keep his cool, act like your presence didn’t affect him in the slightest.. unfortunately, you weren’t so gifted in that area.

you turned to mingyu with a sympathetic yet slightly rushed grin, “it was- really nice talking to you. i hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“thanks. it was nice talki-”

before you could let him finish his thought, you rushed towards the man with fluffy bleached hair. discretion was the least of your concerns. you weren’t sure if you should be relieved that you were finally seeing him again, angry with him for ignoring you, or heartbroken that you had to meet again under such circumstances. “i thought you were going to paris,” you told him.

he looked over his shoulder, drawing in a deep breath. he knew the odds were stacked against the two of you now more than ever; you’d never found yourselves in the same public setting as both of your parents. you didn’t even have to ask him if his were close by; you knew they had a tendency to hover over him like a pair of vultures. “long story,” he whispered once he finally met your eyes. brief and distant was the contact.

you grabbed onto his arm, looking over your shoulder in the same manner as he’d done just moments before. and before you could listen to his protests, you walked him down the hall and to the nearest coat closet. no one else was around the hallways; the guests mostly found themselves in the music or drawing rooms where entertainment was provided.

you slammed the door shut, leaning back against it with your arms folded. joshua frowned once he saw the expression of hurt etched along your features, the way your eyebrows knitted together.. “you lied to me.”

“i know.”

“why?”

joshua looked away, fingers brushing along the sleeve of a random guest’s coat. it was large, dark brown.. mink, no doubt. “i.. i guess it would have been easier going back home knowing.. knowing that you thought i was still out of the country.”

you felt a strange, tightening sensation in your chest. one that was painfully unfamiliar, especially since joshua was involved. “where is all of this coming from?” you asked him quietly, keeping your position against the small door. it served two purposes: keeping him in and anyone else out. “i thought..”

“i know,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to you and letting go of the soft, plush fabric in favor of holding onto one of your hands. “i know. and i’m really sorry. i just.. i hate this.”

your eyes widened, the tightening feeling in your chest growing more intense by the second, “w-what..”

“no- no, not this,” he stepped closer, his grip on your hand tightening as he brought it up to his chest. his thumb skimmed over your knuckles, over your chilled rings. his free hand flew towards your cheek, cupping your jawline with a gentle, featherlike touch. “i mean.. sneaking around. lying. i hate living like this. i hate pretending i don’t know you exist. i want you to be able to come to my premieres as my date. i want to be able to go to your runways with you. i’m tired of this, y/n.”

you held eye contact with him, as uncomfortable as it was. his words were like daggers, the look in his beautiful, doe-like eyes serving as salt to the wounds. “trust me.. i want all of those things too. more than anything.” you paused, looking down at your joined hands. “but you know it’s a bad idea. if we tell them, there’s no way they’ll react well.”

“y/n-”

“they’ll disown us. cut us off. plus, if your parents are anything like mine, they’ll be very public with all of it.” it broke your heart to shut down such a beautiful and heartfelt declaration on his part, especially since everything inside you was telling you to abandon everything and run away with him. you couldn’t bring yourself to face him as your eyes flooded with tears; you knew the look of heartbreak on his face would prompt you to break out into heavy sobs.

“so.. what are you saying?” he asked you timidly. he was never one to raise his voice or get angry with you- honestly you weren’t sure if you would ever find anyone else quite like that in your life.

“i- i don’t know,” you answered truthfully. you couldn’t even dream of breaking things off with him. call it what you want, selfishness, fear.. but you didn’t want to lose him. that’s why you felt the need to reassure him through your heavy tears and your warbled voice, “i could never dream of being with anyone else. but i also know.. i have nothing without my parents.”

it embarrassed you to admit out loud that you were much too dependent on your parents. they dictated everything for you, they provided you with so much.. they had ties in the industry. without their help, you would undoubtedly be jobless.

“that’s not true,” he whispered with furrowed eyebrows. “you’re smart. and strong. i know you’d be more than capable.”

“shua-“

“i have enough money to support the both of us for the rest of our lives,” he told you, cupping both of your cheeks then. his touch was firm, yet gentle. “and once this movie takes off..” his voice trailed off. “let’s not make any rash decisions tonight, okay?”

just then, his fingers moved under your jawline, propping your chin up and prompting you to look up at him. “okay?” he repeated with that same beautiful gentleness, his voice hushed.

it took you a moment, but you nodded. with the realization that while you didn’t have everything figured out right that second, the least you could do was slow down and enjoy what was right in front of you. or more accurately, who was right in front of you. “yeah. okay.” you linked your arms around his neck, your chin falling to rest on his shoulder.

you pulled away just enough to look in his eyes. he’d blinked away any semblance of tears before you could see them fall down his cheeks- yet they still had such a glow of kindness and warmth in them. at times, it felt like they spoke directly to you, conveying every beautiful sentiment the two of you shared between each other. love, adoration, trust.. then they were fluttering shut once you leaned in to press your lips against his.

you both sighed in unison, as if it had been years since you held each other, kissed each other. with that being said, the kiss grew more and more desperate by the second. you’d even pulled yourself away from the closet door you had previously been leaning against, opting to press your chest against his instead. distance truly made the heart fonder, you were coming to find.

your knees felt weak once his hands slid down your figure to rest over your hips for a moment, his fingers snaking towards the small of your bare back. you could have sworn you were seeing stars by the time his fingertips folded over the tiny laces and skimmed over the skin in silky motions. his touch was so familiar to you, yet it never failed to bring butterflies to your stomach and a heated tint to your cheeks.

“i like this dress,” he whispered to you between heated kisses. you could only hum in response, hands weaving through his fluffy, ungelled hair. he smirked, feeling nothing short of pride that he left you feeling speechless. “what? you don’t like it?”

“i’d rather be wearing it just for you,” you admitted while linking an arm around his waist. under his suede jacket, of course. you clung to him, craving, needing his warmth..

“i love the sound of that.” before he could take any riskier steps, he pulled his hands away from the small of your back, his palms gliding upwards to hold onto your clothed upper waist, instead. as tempted as he was, he was not about to have sex with you in the closet; he thought it felt incredibly disrespectful, especially considering the heart-to-heart you had moments before. always the gentleman.

once his lips met your neck, you tilted your head while your hands relaxed on his waist. you felt like time had stopped from the moment you stepped foot in the closet with joshua, like nothing else mattered except the two of you. along with that beautiful, wonderful feeling came the harsh reality that your parents were most likely searching the entire mansion for you. so, you promised yourself you’d give him just a few more minutes before you’d be the one to break the embrace.

he was timid with his kisses, careful not to get too carried away and leave any marks. even so, his lips left you tilting your head back against the nearest wall in bliss. “come over tonight, please. i can’t-”

joshua lifted his head up, his eyes locking with yours. he was clearly surprised to see that your offer from earlier that day still stood, oddly enough. before he could agree, his lips parting, the door swung open next to you. you felt the impact as it hit joshua, causing him to shudder- but the culprit was quick to apologize:

“sorry, man, didn’t see you there-” vernon muttered, stepping forward to gently push past joshua, most likely with the intention to grab his own coat. of course, until he saw you pressed up against the nearest wall with your arms wrapped tightly around joshua’s waist, the man you were supposed to be in a feud with. his eyes went wide, his jaw agape as he stood in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. “....y/n??”

—-------------------------------

needless to say, joshua didn’t come over to your place that night. you were both able to smooth things over with vernon before the party was over and luckily he agreed not to tell your parents, at least for the time being. joshua was the first to leave the closet, albeit reluctantly, leaving you to face your manager with a sheepish expression. he was disappointed in you, to say the least, offended, both on a professional and personal level.. but the important thing was that he swore he would be discreet.

you both agreed to meet for lunch the next day to discuss the important matter at hand, as well as your upcoming schedule. the pesto chicken sandwich placed in front of you hardly looked appetizing, given the severity of the situation. once your manager had found the table you reserved for the two of them, he sat down in front of you with his shoulders slumped. clearly he was just about as excited for this meeting as you were.

you were the first one to speak, flashing him that same awkward smile from the night before, “hey..”

“joshua? joshua hong?” you had to hand it to vernon: he went straight to the point more often than not.

you nodded your head, which felt heavier by the second. the weight and the severity of the situation caused an aching in your temples, one that you would have wished away hours ago if it were possible. “yeah..”

although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, vernon was grateful you took the liberty of ordering his sandwich for him. ham and swiss on rye.. you’d had his order memorized for years now. he took a bite of it, as if to drown his sorrows in the small sandwich. “i just- have so many questions. how did you guys even meet? aren’t you supposed to hate each other?”

“jihyo’s birthday party a few years back..” now that you admitted it out loud, you were in disbelief that the two of you were able to keep your relationship a secret for so long. only for all of the best efforts, the sneaking around, and the little white lies to be thrown down the drain at a stranger’s birthday party. “we got to talking and realized.. neither of the lies our parents told us about each other were true. that night he messaged me on instagram and.. one thing led to another.”

from the looks of it, vernon, himself, was starting to get a headache as you retold the events of your relationship to him. his palm went to his forehead, rubbing the skin with a heavy sigh of dread. “and.. just how have you managed to keep this a secret for so long? without my help?”

you shrugged your shoulders just as a pit began to form in your stomach. “luck, i guess?”

“let’s hope whoever blessed you with good luck is still feeling generous when your parents find out,” he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “and they will find out, y/n. it may have been me who found you guys in the closet last night, but the two of you can only keep up appearances for so long.

“imagine if it was mingyu who found you. or one of his parents. hell, one of your parents.”

you shuddered at the thought of your parents walking in on you making out with anyone in that closet, let alone the child of their sworn enemies. “you’re right. it was.. super irresponsible of us.” you paused. “are you saying.. we should just tell them?”

vernon swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, nodding his head in the process, “better than finding out through the media, don’t you think?”

“i guess.” you leaned back in your seat with a sigh. not for the first time, you envied the couple sitting a few tables across from you. they were strangers to you, but they seemed so.. happy. they didn’t have to worry about being seen together, make sure no one was looking before holding hands, secret “i love yous..” none of it. it didn’t seem fair to you.

as vernon noticed you sitting in quiet contemplation, he folded his arms across the table. “what are you thinking about?”

“vernon.. you’re fired.”

you could have sworn vernon’s eyes grew nearly twice their size. “wait a minute, wait a minute- what??!”

“listen! you’ve given me a lot to think about and.. you’re right. i have to tell them.” you cleared your throat. “we both know it’s not going to end well, so i’m saving you the public embarrassment in advance. and i’m quitting my job. as soon as possible.”

vernon’s features softened, his relief evident. you knew that your long term manager would be well off; he had several other clients in the business besides you. still, he seemed puzzled. “are you- are you sure? you’re giving up a lot, y/n. are you sure it’s worth it?”

as you reflected on your time as a model, the benefits and perks that you were lucky enough to receive, along with the cons on the other side of it- you realized you’d never been more confident in your decision before. you were young, there was plenty of time for you to choose a more meaningful path. you nodded, leaving enough cash on the table to pay for the two sandwiches before standing up.

“it’s definitely worth it,” you beamed. “i’ve gotta go make a phone call.”

———————————————

“it’s.. definitely risky.” joshua had his reservations about your proposal. he knew what your mother was like thanks to the stories you’d told him personally, which was why he found it all so.. commendable.

“what part of our relationship hasn’t been risky?” you countered while leaning into his chest. he’d finally taken you up on your invitation. the two of you were relaxing on your balcony, cuddling on the swing while soaking up the vanishing sunlight. you hadn’t let him leave your sight since the minute he walked through your front door; you wanted to take full advantage of his time there.

“true,” joshua let out an infectious laugh and the skin near his eyes crinkled, just like it did every time he smiled. truthfully, it was a trait of his that you’d found endearing since the moment you met him. his voice was hushed as his gaze shifted from the sunset ahead to you and he lifted a hand to cup your cheek. “is this really what you want?”

“more than anything.” you immediately reached for his free hand, both of yours holding it close to your heart. there was nothing but certainty in your tone as you spoke, the look of determination in your eyes only solidifying it. “maybe i can go back to school or something. my schedule’s clearing up pretty soon.”

you felt the gentle rumble in his chest as he chuckled, “you know i’ll take care of us. i wasn’t just saying that.”

“i know. but- i really need to do this. i feel like i’ve been missing out on so much.” you played with the rings adorning his fingers rather than meeting his eyes. your confession left you feeling bashful, even if you weren’t quite sure why. “but not anymore. i love you joshua, and i don’t want to have to live in fear anymore. i just want..you.”

those three beautiful words stood out to joshua and caused him to grin like a fool. all this time, it was as if the two of you knew fully well that you were in love and therefore, never felt the need to state it directly. your affection towards each other was unspoken at times, voicing itself in many more ways than one; stolen kisses behind curtains, brushing hands together in intimate discretion, risking discovery by supporting each other at premieres or press conferences.

but now.. those three words were out in the air, never to be taken back. not that either of you would dare to if you were given the opportunity, of course. personally, joshua felt as if he could shout it from the rooftops without a care in the world. “say that again,” he whispered to you.

you were quick to reply, your voice hushed to match his tone, “i love you.”

“i love you too.” as if to reiterate his words, he pressed his lips against yours just as the sun began to take refuge behind the large palm trees. it felt beautiful, picturesque, like a scene from one of his movies.

the rest of the night, you two never left each other’s embrace for more than a single minute, knowing that even if your parents lashed out at both of you, even if you were sure to face public scrutiny and humiliation, even if you were at risk for losing everything you’d worked so hard to build, you had each other. you would never part ways with each other again, and that was truly all that mattered.

[bitethedevil]

Raphael and his Morals: The Analysis Where I Sound Like A Devil Apologist

I see Raphael being characterized as a selfish power-hungry character a lot. And I mean, he definitely is! Don’t get me wrong. I just also think there are more layers to that, so I want to make a little analysis on the deeper level of what kind of rationalization goes through his head when it comes to the whole tadpole business and the Crown of Karsus.  

The Pact Primeval

I think that the Pact Primeval is pretty important to understand when it comes to a general understanding of devils. There are multiple versions of this tale, though the one I will go through is the one that the devils tell each other (you can find all of this in Fiendish Codex II).

So basically, in the beginning of everything there was chaos. Out of that chaos came the demons. Lawful deities began to fight that chaos but eventually they got tired of it because there was seemingly an endless supply of demons. The deities couldn’t be bothered anymore because they wanted to make the world and it’s creatures and all of that instead. They then created angels and were like “cool, you go kill all the demons while we have fun making the world”.

One of those angels was Asmodeus. He was described as both beautiful and fierce, and he was amazing at what he did. The trouble was that the more the angels fought the demons, the more traits they came to share with them to fight them more efficiently. They turned ugly and twisted too because the demons they fought were so.

The deities then saw how they had changed, and all said “ew” in unison and said that they did not want those twisted beings living anywhere near them. They tried to banish Asmodeus and the other angels from the Heavens.

Asmodeus was not having that (and understandably so imo). There came a trial and Asmodeus essentially pointed out that “hey, I actually just did what I was made for, and I did it pretty damn well too. We’ve only dirtied our hands so yours can stay clean. If we are to be lawful beings, then this charge is absolutely bullshit”. Asmodeus could “wield the law like a knife” and the deities had to admit that what he was saying was right, so they couldn’t do much.

Eventually, the deities had made intelligent beings and to protect these beings, they made barriers between them and the demons. To their horror, the deities saw that some of the intelligent beings they had so carefully tried to protect, insisted on breaking these barriers and letting demons into their world. The gods were confused and exasperated at this and weren’t sure how to stop them.

That is where out boy Asmodeus comes in with a plan: There should be punishments for those who disobey the gods, or else there will continue to be chaos. So, Asmodeus, Mephistopheles and Dispater, along with the other twisted angels went out and punished the wrong doers.

As these tortured and punished people trickled into the Heavens after their death, the deities once again all said “ew” and pulled in Asmodeus to answer for this. They did not want those punished mortals in their realm, so Asmodeus came with another solution: basically, creating the Hells. All he wanted in return was to be able to draw power from the souls of those he punishes, since they (the twisted angels) cannot draw power from the deities while being separated from them

The gods all agreed and signed what would be known as the Pact Primeval which held these terms. The gods then freak out when they find out that what has now become the devils of the Hells encourage people to do wrong so that they end up in the Hells. When confronted with this by the angry gods who tell him that he can’t possibly be doing this, Asmodeus simply smiles and answers: Read the fine print.

The Morals of Devils

Essentially, devils are focused on the larger picture always. They are basically worker ants. I’ve spoken about this before. The Hells are hierarchical, and everyone has a job to do. Everyone eventually fights in the Blood War and contributes to the greater cause. They are simultaneously aware that they are a part of something greater than themselves AND they also want to further their own ambitions and climb the ladder through promotion.

The main objective is always the Blood War between devils and demons. Defeating the demons have been the point since before the Pact Primeval. In their own minds, they technically are doing good. Defeating chaos is good. It’s the whole point. Now, the ways that they might achieve that might not be good, but that is again the focus on the grander picture that comes in. If a mortal asked a devil why they do as they do, they would tell them that they are the only thing that stands between them and absolute chaos. An honorable cause reached with truly dishonorable means (such as when Asmodeus lures more souls to the Hells to gain power to his war against the demons).

Raphael

Raphael is serving himself with his goal of wanting the Crown but perhaps not entirely for pure power-hungry reasons. Yes, he wants power, but he also shows this exact idea of a devil’s tendency to look at the greater picture. He does say in the end that he wants to end the Blood War (which…yeah. That’s great honey, have fun with that. If all of the gods and Asmodeus failed to do so, a little Crown probably won’t do much). I am of the belief that conquering the Hells could be possible but ending the Blood War seems damn near impossible.

But my point stands: he is concerned with the state of the Hells, and he wants to be the one who fixes all of it, which would no doubt give him a lot of devil cookie-points and clout. It would show daddy dearest and everyone who doubted him that he is good at Being A Devil™.

Even if he just gives us the Hammer and we don’t follow through on giving him the Crown of Karsus, he has still done a lot for the Hells. Raphael and the rest of the Hells are not interested in everyone becoming mindflayers (and thus soulless).

That is the very reason why he detests the Emperor so much and mistrusts him. He does not want us to trust someone who enjoys being a mindflayer like he does, because he knows it leads to someone, if not everyone, losing their soul and thus valuable power to the Hells.

This is all just to say that yes, Raphael is a power-hungry narcissist, but he is also simply a cog in a very large machine. If anything, it is actually surprising that there weren’t more devils in the story who were concerned with how everything was turning out.

There is more nuance to him than simply wanting the Crown and becoming Archdevil Supreme for his own selfish goals. He is simply acting on the morals of what everyone around him has fed him his whole life: that you should work hard and be ambitious so that you can further the cause. The real tragic flaw, however, is that if they actually achieved winning the Blood War, they would simply become the new demons because they have become so much like them by fighting them all those years.

And if Raphael has been fed the same version of the Pact Primeval as mentioned above, it’s no wonder that he is so surprisingly chill about Mystra getting the Crown of Karsus. He sees the gods as incompetent snobs who can’t get anything done properly (and let’s be real here, with what I know of them, I sort of agree), and he knows that eventually they will all start their infighting again at some point.

The biggest overarching problem with Raphael’s plans is the same as his father’s and all the other devils. It’s the fact that they understand the bigger picture but believe that if they had more power then they would be more capable of achieving it than those already in power. It’s this idea that the ones above you are simply incompetent at reaching a goal that is essentially impossible. The demons will keep coming no matter what, but they all believe that they would win if they became the next Asmodeus.

You see it when Raphael mentions that his father is “naught more than a frigid archivist”. Could there be a reason for that, pookie? Could there be a reason as to why Mephistopheles won’t use the Crown? Could it be that Hells greatest wizard might have a better grasp on such things than his son? No, nope, daddy is just being stupid and incompetent.

It’s all arrogance. From a sort of natural selection viewpoint, it makes sense. This arrogance makes the devils more ambitious and thus they work harder as the little worker ants that they are, but the downside is that they will make the exact same mistakes as many before them.

[madamechrissy]

But it's Better if You Do

ৎ୭ Pairings ৎ୭ Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

ৎ୭ Warnings ৎ୭ MDNI- Lap dance, teasing, fingering, more explicit as we go. <3

ৎ୭ Word Count ৎ୭ 5.9k

ৎ୭ Summary ৎ୭ Every weekday for a year, Nanami Kento comes into the coffee shop you work at, and he orders the same damn thing. You have it bad but are too nervous to do more than doodle on his cups. You have a double life, because you're also 'Foxy' a featured dancer at a strip club once a week. A bachelor party for Satoru Gojo has you dancing, and he's there. Nanami fucking Kento. You end up both in a VIP room, awkward, nervous, but then... it's your chance. He doesn't know it's you, right? What harm can a lap dance do? Surely won't be awkward the next day...

Masterlist

ৎ୭Chapter 1

The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans was your sanctuary in an odd way. It was a world away from the smoky haze and thumping bass of the club you danced at once a week, away from dance lessons you still took though they led to nothing. A world where you were just you, the barista, not 'Foxy' the dancer.

You were exhausted, concealer working overtime to hide the bags under your eyes, yawning a bit as you mix up an espresso for yourself. It was early and typically not many people came just yet, a little loll where you could peek at your phone, sip on that dark espresso… but one person always came first thing.

The bell jingles above the door, and you feel yourself flush. He was here. Nanami Kento, the man who had been a regular for months and months now. Damn near a year, and always ordered the same thing, sometimes getting another for his coworkers, but never anything different for himself.

He was so handsome, but so uptight that it made your mind wander as to what the man did for fun, or if he knew how to have any. You knew he’d be ordering his usual Americano, and he gave you a small little half smile, so charming it made you falter for some fucking reason.

He was in a tan suit, baby blue dress shirt, those fancy expensive glasses resting on his eyes, eyes you’d have died to see if you were being honest. His tie today was some cow print, yesterday had been leopard, the day before Zebra, perhaps a walking contradiction to his personality.

“Good morning, Nanami.” You say, and he nods, hands in his pants pockets, blonde hair slicked back but a small bit hung forward. Your fingers itched to push it back, and you clenched your teeth at the thought.

“Good morning.” He said your name so softly, it made you into a whole mess, as it had been for months now. God knows how you could dance on a pole once a week in lingerie, but couldn’t just fucking hit on him.

It was the ongoing joke of the café at this point.

“Hmm, perhaps a pumpkin spice latte?” You tease, as he shook his head with a little sigh.

“The usual. Make it strong.” His voice, even in this mundane setting, sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the way his eyes, usually so sharp and focused, seemed to linger on you for a moment too long behind the green glasses.

“Coming right up.” You tilt your head side to side as you turn away, brewing his coffee for him.

“Not sleeping well?” He asked softly, you turned in surprise, instantly insecure, touching your face.

“The concealer isn’t working huh?”

Two little lines creased between his brows, lips turning down. “Concealer?”

“Yeah I’m trying to hide the dark circles. Ugh. Do I look like shit?”

He was frowning now, leaning forward, hands gripping the counter, and you studied them, the veins popping out, and your mind went fucking awry. You lick your lips nervously, turning, snatching up his coffee and then popping a lid on it, drawing a little heart with a sharpie. Every day was a new stupid little shape, and he never commented about them.

“You could never look ‘like shit’ as you put it.” You damn near dropped the coffee, gasping, turning back around to see him, so tall and imposing, leaning over the counter toward you.

You wanted to grab that tie and yank him to you.

Fuck.

How’d a guy that said ten words to you a day have you so fucked?

“I… here.” You gently hand him the cup, and your fingertips brush, his hand lingering as yours did, before gently pulling away. “I don’t look like shit then?”

He smirked a bit, shaking his head, and you could feel the gaze on you, making you heat up, nervous. “You have never looked bad. Any day I’ve been in here.”

“You need better glasses.” You mumble. He laughed a bit, and the sound was foreign, it made him more… human.

“I don’t lie.” You believed him. You felt your cheeks flushing pink, looking down just a bit.

“Thank you, Nanami. That makes me feel better.”

“You’re… you’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I asked if you were tired because of how you were stretching your neck, and rolling your shoulders. You also were covering a yawn.”

You tense, gaze back at his eyes in those green glasses, wondering their color. You picked up a fresh almond croissant then that you'd just made, handing it to him. He smiled, and handed you cash then, far too much, as he tended to tip you every morning.

“You’re very observant.” You murmured, and he shrugged a broad shoulder. Dude was built like a whole action star, aching to break from that suit. It addled your brain more and more.

“I do notice things. Do you work outside of this?”

Your whole body is flushed now, he rarely tried to make conversation. You could never ever admit that you stripped once a week, danced on a goddamn pole. You made more doing that than all week here at the shop. You couldn’t imagine what proper, uptight Nanami might think of such a thing.

You were a show girl more than anything, you didn’t do dances or VIP rooms, because of your skill at dance and performance, you were instead a feature at various places. Once upon a dream you’d thought you’d make it as an actual dancer, but foolish dream that had turned to be. You still tried, even now, even exhausted, auditioning for little things, but it wasn't enough money.

Would that seem pathetic to such a wealthy businessman?

You clear your throat. “I do dance… I also take dance classes. I guess that does tire me out.”

“That’s impressive.” He surprised you, and you smiled at it.

“Thank you but no, not at all. Just an amateur hobby.”

“Well… I hope you have a good day. Thank you.” He held up his cup, peering at the heart doodle, and the raised brows and amused look on that chiseled face made you catch your breath.

“You’re welcome, you too! See you Monday!” He gave you a little wave, sauntering out. You watched him like a lovesick fool.

Oof.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” The voice made you jump, and you looked to your co worker, Nobara. She was a gorgeous strawberry blond with a hell of an attitude that you loved.

“I… don’t think he’d be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Hot? Can dance on a pole?”

“Shh!” You two giggled, and you sighed sadly. She was sucking on a lollipop, tilting her head, short hair swinging as she studied you with soft brown eyes.

“You should just say how you feel. It’s been almost a year watching you pine for him. It's literally making me wanna scream.”

“I know…” You sigh, sipping your espresso and needing another. “I have this bachelor party at the club I have to dance an extra night for it because I mean shit… good money. I’m tired.”

“I know. You’re saving a lot though. Not much longer.” Nobara brushed your hair behind your ear, smiling. You were trying your best to save for an elite dance school. Every bit you made went to bills and that.

“That makes me feel better, Kugasaki. Thank you.” You peck a little kiss on her cheek.

“Should have him watch you dance, ooh, then he’d love you. You sure are a talented bitch up on that pole.”

“Ah, stop. Him in a strip club? No way.”

“The strictest ones are the most freaky.”

You two giggle, then a customer came in, and soon the throng approached, and you and Nobara killed it along with the help of your other coworker and friend, Yuuji, working in perfect sync.

Imagine Nanami Kento in your club on that one night a week you were there, you’d die of embarrassment. Some things were best left unsaid, and your ridiculous crush would remain one of them for sure. You just hope you’ll be able to get a nap before you go in tonight.

***

The scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume filled the air as you danced that night, dressed in a bright pink wig and slinky lace and sequined two piece costume. You gripped the pole of the stage as men gathered around you, the soft red lighting illuminated your body, your requested music blared by the DJ, slow and sensual. You had money thrown on the stage, men coming close.

The worst part was interacting. You wished you could just dance. You climb up the pole then, using your core strength and thighs, spinning, focusing on the moves versus everyone and everything around you. You flip your body, upside down, to the gasps of the crowd, even your fellow strippers and women there, that’s what you were here for, the showmanship.

You slide around on nothing but your thighs, thick and muscular, not as slender and ladylike as you may have desired, but they had power. You had power. Your hair falls down in silky waves as you spin, eyes closed, perfecting every twist and turn just so. You finally open them, feeling yourself close to the ground, stopping yourself with your arm.

The group of the bachelor party poured in, and instead of being raucous and wild, they actually all were attentive, studying you.

Ah, a show.

You smirk, and flip down, standing, bending forward with your ass in the air, clad in fishnets and little lacy panties. More money was thrown, more men sitting around you, but you climb back up the pole, pulling yourself up, and your legs spread wide as you spin back down, in tantalizing circles, head leaning back, until you’re on the ground, elbows and knees.

The sequined costume hugged your curves in all the right places, catching glinting light. You’re bent over in front of everyone. It did not feel the best. You were better just on the pole. But, you took your time, crawling towards the crowd. Each man tipped you, sliding them in your garters that sat on your upper thighs, some trying to be too bold, too touchy, but as you neared the bachelor party, you froze.

Amongst the honestly all gorgeous men, looking like pure money, there he was, Nanami fucking Kento. Looking awkward, uncomfortable, arms crossed, donned in a gray button down dress shirt and black slacks. He didn’t have on those sunglasses, and your eyes caught him in the dark.

He was captivated by you.

You fall from your position, and decide to make it look like you meant to fall to the floor, on your tummy, your ass in the air, popping back up, trying to make yourself breathe and stay calm. You looked nothing like you, he wouldn’t know, and you could literally live part of that fantasy you had, dancing for him.

You peer and there’s a couple men you recognize from the coffee shop, Nanami’s co workers, a tall handsome white haired man that you think his name was Gojo, was the groom to be. Clearly. He wore a whole sash that said ‘Bride to be’ and a shit eating grin, like the happiest man in the world. He was so pretty he was hard to look at, you’d thought before.

“Bride to be huh?” You tease, fingernails scratching on the little silk sash. Gojo laughs, poking at his cell phone over the music.

“I am! Satoru Gojo.”

“Foxy.” You smirk, and he rolls his eyes, smirking too.

“Sure you are. This is my wife as of tomorrow.” He scrolled through pictures, showing you a picture of a gorgeous woman that looked familiar as well, you’d served her coffee many many times, she was always super sweet. You were enamored, she was breathtaking in them, laughing and happy, usually more serious when you saw her.

“She’s so beautiful.” You flush when he gets to a nude, and he was pulling it back quickly with a wiggle of his brows.

“She is, though. I can’t wait to get her fucking pregnant. She’s finally down for it.”

“Oh god.” You purse your lips, and he seemed to give no fucks, clearly obsessed. He is sliding you a large tip respectfully into your hand. “She was okay with all this?”

“Yeah, she said don’t do anything dumb, but she’s the only one for me anyway. I just figured fuck it, let’s get the boys having fun. Though I will say, you’re one hell of a dancer. Imma have to bring her to see you.” His bright blue eyes glimmered in the light, and you laughed a bit.

“I’d love to meet her…”

“Oh fuck yeah. I need to see you give her a dance.”

“I don’t do dances, I’m more of a show girl here. But I'd absolutely make an exception!”

“Oooh, listen, can you make an exception for me?”

You frown. “What?”

“Not me. I’m a bride!” You giggle, he was unlike any bachelor you’d seen at any party before. “My friend.”

“I don’t know… I just do the pole.” You ease back, hands on your thighs, Gojo respectfully staring at your face the entire time.

“It’s for my buddy and I’ll pay out the ass. But give me a few, I need to know he’ll go for it.” Gojo tipped you again, and you sigh.

“We’ll see.” He smiles and nudges his head, as you slide over to the man next to him, just as tall as Gojo, long dark hair, tan and broad shouldered. God this office was attractive, but you personally felt Nanami took the cake.

“Beautiful dance.” The man said, who Gojo just called Geto, smiling and tipping you generously, sliding it in your waistband slowly. You flush.

“Thank you so much.” You’re on to the next, a man they called Sukuna. He was tanned and broad and devilish with his smirk, tattoos attractively running down his neck. His light brown eyes devoured your entire body, completely unlike Geto’s tease and Gojo’s respect.

“Gorgeous.” He winked at you, and you leaned forward when he put his large tip in between his teeth, grabbing it with your breasts, which were popping out from the top of the lingerie now. You tended to only go topless, versus doing any more, luckily the club was very good with everyone and their comfort.

“Thank you…” You say softly, then feel his gaze on you… Nanami.

He’d been studying you this entire time, respectfully, but full of admiration, to the point where when your eyes met it startled you. You had never even seen them, they were slanted up like cat’s eyes, sensual as fuck. In the dim club they appeared to be dark brown, nearly black, and when they moved lower, to your collarbone, it was as if he was caressing your skin.

You licked your lips nervously, wishing you could find the courage to speak. But instead, you focused on the way his gaze traveled over your body, the way he seemed to drink in every inch of you. It was intoxicating, exhilarating. In this moment, you felt beautiful and confident, despite the butterflies in your stomach.

How could you be so shy when you were dancing on a pole? Your tits were half out… and gorgeous men surrounded you. But Nanami's intense gaze became your undoing. You blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear, trying to act casual as he took out a large tip in his big hands.

“You're very talented.” His voice was husky, you tremble, smiling.

“Thank you.” You scooch to where he's between your thighs in his seat right by the stage, watching him tense with a hitch in his breath. You feel far too bold. He doesn't know it's you and he's here looking…

You slide a hand down your chest, to your nearly exposed breasts, gently tugging the material so a hint of your nipples showed. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as you held out the fabric, leaning forward, his hands were steady but his eyes were like a hawk on your lush breasts.

He slid the money into the strap of your bra, and the brush of his rough fingers makes you tremble. He notices, pulling back and catching your eyes. Fuck would he recognize them? You lower your lashes and attempt to look flirtatious and not like some weird shy stripper. You kind of fail.

You slide back up with a smile, but he halts you, another tip, sliding this one in one of your garters. His friends tease him mercilessly, and there's a little pink on his cheeks, on Nanami fucking Kento’s perfect damn cheekbones. A blush. You felt one form on your face too, your gazes locked, the hand barely brushing your thigh doing fucked things to your psyche.

“Ahem… thank you so much.” You say with a smile, turning and kneeling, ass in full view along with the curve of your back as you gather some wits, going down to pick up the numerous tips. Enough to where you could probably stop for the night.

After you've cleaned the pole, headed down off the stage to probably call it a night, Gojo stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You peer up at the tall pretty boy curiously.

“Would you do a VIP with Nanami over there?” Your heart stops as you both look at him. He is leaned in a chair, sipping whiskey, eyes burning into you. “He's always hated strip clubs and usually sits in a corner miserable. But he's clearly eye fucking the shit out of you. This is weird for him.”

You feel your skin heat up. “I really only dance here once a week, I get uncomfortable even taking tips close… I…”

“You're a shy stripper! So weird.” He teased you. You roll your eyes with a self deprecating laugh.

“I just do it for money and because I like to pole dance. Not exactly a regular stripper. There are plenty of beautiful girls here though that gladly will!” You gesture to the pretty ladies around you, fawning over the men. He shakes his head.

“Nope. Gotta be you. He hasn't even checked another girl out here. Pretty please?” He shoots his pretty blue eyes at you with a pout. You sigh. You can't do that… you can't…

“I mean… I could try to do a lap dance?”

“He'll get too nervous in front of us. He's uptight as fuck.” Gojo puts on his charm, winking at you with a grin. “I'll pay a fuck ton.”

“Oh gosh…”

“He's super respectful, he'd never touch you… shit even if you wanted him to, he’d probably be too shy.” Your heart falters. You know that. “You clearly like him, you can't take your eyes off the business boy.”

“I… well I…” You drop to a whisper. “I kinda know him.”

“Oooh!” He snapped his fingers with a devious look. “Even better. I love some good drama!”

“You're sort of a dick. No offense.” Gojo threw his head back with laughter at your glare.

“My fiance will love you for sure. She agrees! Listen, just do it for me. I'm the bride to be!” He bats white spiky eyelashes.

You find yourself growing more nervous, anticipation eating away at you. It's what you'd wanted forever wasn't it?

But it wasn't really you…

“Fuck it. Okay.” Gojo's grin is infectious. “I'm not the best at lap dances like I am on the pole though.”

“He won't notice. He's never had one. Okay let me work this magic on him.” He winks and heads to Nanami and your heart is thudding in your ears now.

Fuck.

You watched Gojo’s lithe figure walk over to Nanami, and you wanted to fall into the Earth, sure you were as red as the lights in the club, which luckily concealed the blush. You were a mess from his presence, a shy stripper as Gojo had put it, completely accurate. Nanami is in a serious conversation with him, Gojo’s hand on his chest, speaking into his ear.

Nanami's eyes hit you from across the bar tables, and he and Gojo ignored the other girls that walked by, aside from the shot girls. Gojo shot them all smiles but you could tell he was deep in love with the bride-to-be, and something in it made you wistful, longing… you were alone aside from your cat, Sebastian, who surely was angry you were out late tonight.

He’d probably scratch some shit up.

Nanami ends up walking back towards you with Gojo by his side, hands in his pockets, hair falling in front of his brow, eyes averted. Gojo pushed him towards you, then slid you forward with a sure hand on your back, making you two brush against each other a bit. You tense, and so does he.

“Dear God, you’re at a strip club, you two.” Gojo sighed, rolling his eyes. “So ‘Foxy’ here doesn’t do VIP or lap dances, she’s more the star of the show.” He shoots you a wink, and you clear your throat, thighs shifting when Nanami looks back at you.

“I wouldn’t say that, but yes, I don’t.”

“She’s making an exception. So, you two go on in there.” He smacks at both of your asses, and you both scowl at him, his grin wide and ridiculous. “Come on, come on, you two crazy kids. Have fun!”

Gojo shoves you two in the VIP room, and you and Nanami are there, alone, where it’s more quiet as you’re away from the booming music. It’s intimate… you run your fingers nervously through your wig, nearly pulling the synthetic hairs out, before taking a steady breath, peering around. You’d not even been in the little room, with the velvet plush couch, and disco lighting.

The couch was large and fancy, but somehow trashy at the same time, as strip clubs went this was the nicest, but still, something felt so off. All your fantasies of the stiff business man, who was literally being forced by his quite annoying friend into being in here with you.

“We don’t have to… like we can just talk if you’re uncomfortable.” You finally manage to say, feeling as if he truly did not want to be here. He brushes a hand against your shoulder then, bringing your gaze to his.

“I’m the one that’s supposed to say that.” He smirked, and fuck it was charming, as was his eyes and how they studied you. “You really aren’t a normal stripper, huh?”

“Well I make plenty dancing so I don’t sell things.”

“Do you want to do this?”

Your teeth bite your lower lip, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to say who you were, what you felt… but what would that bring? Confusion? Embarrassment?

If he’d found you attractive at work he’d have responded to one of your countless doodles or something by now right? You’d even asked who you now knew was Gojo’s fiancé for his number, and he’d come the next day and said nothing. You’d sort of given up at that point.

Was this your chance? To get a taste of him?

Unwinding… casual… letting go.

You take his hand, yours is swallowed by his, and he was so tall that even in platform heels you had to tilt your head back to look at him. His fingers grip your hand in response, and then you turn, leading him to the giant couch, gently pushing him to have a seat. You bend down, and you take his long sleeves and unbutton them, rolling them up to reveal his arms a bit.

You watched the muscles in his arms tense, showing how fucking built he was under there. Veins popping out. He allowed it, just studying your face still. “Are you blushing?”

You felt yourself heat up more, realizing the lighting here didn’t hide it. “Maybe I am a bit.”

“Overheated?”

“Sure.” You were a shit liar for someone who lived a whole double existence, you mused, finishing your job. “I wanted you a little loosened up.”

“Do you.” His voice was husky, deep, and it alone did things to you, wicked fucking things. You brush fingers along the veins of his forearms, watching a hand close into a fist in response. You lean closer, popping a couple of his buttons, to reveal just a hint of the ripped chest, drinking the sight in greedily.

“Much better.” You muse, and half expect him to take off your bra, but he remains still, watching, waiting. You slide your hands around his neck and press your body against his, and his familiar scent envelops your senses. “Everything okay?”

“It’s perfect.” You froze at that.

You know. There was no turning back now.

Your hands glided up and down his hard chest, teasing him, thumbs barely brushing bare skin, enjoying the little hitch in his breath. You push forward over him until your breasts are against his face, drawing his attention to them like a hawk. Your lips parted as his breath was hot against them, unable to hide your aching desire was mortifying.

You slid down his body now, bending low, between his legs teasingly, hands braced on his muscular thighs, eyes catching the growing arousal beneath his pants and shooting want through you. With each movement, you could sense him becoming more and more entranced, his breathing growing heavier and more ragged. Just like you.

His expression was a mix of surprise and desire, and you couldn't help but smile shyly up at him before you turned, rolling your hips, ass now rubbing against his hard body. It was so quiet, he did not speak, and neither did you, as you lean back into it, and his hands tentatively wrap around your waist, his first contact so far, and it was making your head fuzzy with pleasure.

You could feel the anticipation building between you, the air thick with tension when his grip tightened, his small sexy fucking sigh. You turn back around and glanced down, taking in his broad shoulders, toned arms, his lips parted. You reached out, bracing your hands as you straddle him now, the sensation hitting you so hard you struggled to stay still.

"Am I doing okay?" You ask, it came out teasing, but you were actually nervous as fuck.

He gave a nervous laugh, a fucking laugh! Nanami Kento could laugh… his gaze flickers down to the floor before meeting yours again. "You're doing beautifully." He murmured.

It was the first time he'd ever spoken to you like this, and you didn't know what to say in response. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs, world far away, leaving only the two of you.

Nanami reached out, tracing a finger down your cheek as you grind on him now, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Is this okay?” He asks softly. You nod eagerly.

As his fingertip trailed lower, tracing the line of your jaw and then down your neck, you felt a shudder run through you, making it a struggle to continue confidently moving against where you were now growing wetter by the second. It was as if his touch was making every nerve ending tingle with desire. It was intoxicating..

You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of the lightest caress, still respectful despite the wicked things your body was doing against him, an intriguing contradiction that messed with your brain. The music seemed to fade into the background.

You could feel the rhythm of it still as you continued to give him the best lap dance you could, swaying your hips and rubbing against his hardness through your lacy underwear. He's so respectful, never once making you feel uncomfortable or objectified. Instead, he watches you with such intensity that it takes your breath away.

His hands are touching you but nowhere inappropriate, the waist or your hips, though you sure wanted him to touch more, fuck. Imagining those big hands squishing your soft breasts, or gripping your ass… or…

As you continue to dance for him, you lose yourself in the movement, feeling the heat rising in your body, the blood pulsing through your veins. You're aware of every inch of his body as it presses against you, the way his hands grip your hips tighter and he raises his lap up and moans a bit is just…

The music changes, another song, you’d lost count how many, and you match your movements to the beat. You feel yourself growing wetter, and hot. He hisses then, suddenly, tensing against you, as if he could tell, halting your movements. His brown eyes shoot up to yours and you freeze, embarrassed. You flush, overheated from dancing and your mixture of horny and nervous.

“I'm… I… don't really do this. I just do the pole. Am I fucking up?” You murmur. He pauses your movements again, hands firm, licking his lower lip.

“No. Not at all. You don't have to do anything else, though, you've done amazing. I know Gojo put you up to this…”

“I want to do it.” Your words make you both quiet.

“You've done plenty if you want to stop.” He was so sweet it hurt your heart.

His eyes were dark with desire though, something you'd die for every day if it were you, truly you, and not just for ‘Foxy’.

“I want to kiss you, too. That's pretty fucked up of me huh.” You mumble out of nowhere before you could shut yourself up. Nanami pauses, and now you’re not dancing, you’re just pressed against his hardness, breath making your breasts rise and fall, your wetness fucking embarrassing at this point.

“That’s not fucked up.” His hand trembled a bit as he cupped your face, gently, making you feel so tiny with those big hands and broad shoulders as you leaned in, a ghost of a kiss just hovering between your mouths.

“Do you want me to?” Your whisper brings your lips closer. Nanami nods, thumbs brushing along your lower lip, and then his lips find yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

Everything stops, every worry has vanished from your head as his firm lips press into yours, pulling away, eyes catching yours. You see little flecks of green in them. You both just breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders, his still so tender on your face it made you ache. It felt like literal sparks shot through you when his lips pressed again, firmer this time, a little gasp making them part.

The kiss deepens, his hot tongue slipping in, and it ignites a sharp burn in your tummy. You moan into his mouth, arching your back as he kisses you harder, his tongue dancing with yours. Your hands entwined in his silky blonde locks, his firm grip now sliding down to your ribcage. His thumbs brushing under the cups of your lingerie. You wanted them on your breasts so bad your nipples strain against lace.

You can feel Nanami grow even harder against the apex of your thighs, and you wonder what it would feel like to have him inside you for an insane moment.

From a kiss?

Fuck.

Tongues are entwining, pressing against each other, losing yourselves in desire, but then he breaks the kiss suddenly, panting heavily, and those eyes look into your gaze. They're filled with desire, but also something else, something you've never seen before from anyone and couldn't put into words.

"I'm sorry," He says, voice rough with emotion. You frown.

“Shit, was it that bad?” You touch your lips, eyes shooting down, mortified. He laughs quietly, shaking his head. You fall for his laugh, fall hard.

“No. Not at all. I just don't want to be disrespectful… and I'm going to have a hard time stopping if we keep on.” Nanami's voice was hoarse, as affected as you, those hands sliding up further. Your eyes went wide, feeling the power he had suddenly, how tense he was, holding back… he…

You lean back in, wanting to say fuck it, to just give your pussy what she's been aching for a whole goddamn year, pressing back onto his hard body. Nanami moans into your lips, and before you know it he's on top of you, pressing you gently into the couch, and he is kissing you, his fingers finding your wetness quick, so hot for him, over your lacy panties.

You gasp at the contact, with only the panties as your barrier, which you’d fucking soaked, and are trembling when he pulls back, his lips parted, shimmering from your kiss. Your hands grip at his dress shirt, clenching just like your fucking cunt wanted to around his cock.

You had never expected this, even having just kissed him, how he just took control… consumed you. It was possibly the sexiest thing you’d experienced. No, it was the sexiest thing. Nanami slid a long finger under your panties then, twisting them and pulling them to the side, and a cry rips from your throat.

He could now fully feel your pussy. He is sighing and lowering his body as his fingertip grazes your aching cunt, up your slit, so slow and tantalizing.

“So fucking wet.” He murmured, and you nearly fucking died as the fingetip slid against your clit, nearly doing you in, rubbing in a gentle little circle, your hips buck up, and you’re gasping.

Then you really died as he pulled his finger away for too fucking soon, licking your desire off, sucking it while shutting his eyes and groaning. He just… Your mouth drops, and your pussy throbs around nothing again, literally hurting from it. He leans back down, his hand inching up your inner thigh, lips kissing up your jaw. You shift, dying for more of his caress, of his kisses…

You're about to just beg him to fuck you at this point, uncaring of whatever that would even mean, how unlike you it was, when the bachelor party rolls in the room, drunk, raucous, and Nanami quickly sits, pulling you up with him. He adjusts your top so you’re covered, as if you weren’t stripping earlier, so gentlemanly… but then he’d just tasted you…

They all start fucking with him, yanking him away, and his eyes catch yours across the room.

Gojo comes to you with a smirk, handing you far too much money. You didn't want it. You shove it back at him, but he pushes it into your garter instead.

“It's your job, ‘Foxy’. Make the money.”

“I had way too much fun…” You whispered, and he seemed far too pleased about it. “Yeah that wasn't even work… I’m…”

“Oh fuck. You're in deep for Kento, aren’t you?” You nod, and Gojo seems to oddly understand, hand gentle on your arm. “I'm looking forward to him finding out who you are.”

“I'm sure not! I’ll die.”

He laughed, and they dragged Nanami away, leaving you two alone for a moment. “I believe in you. ‘Foxy’. Be brave.” You laugh breathlessly.

“Congrats on the wedding tomorrow, Gojo.”

He grinned, shooting you a peace sign. “I’ll be almost as pretty of a bride as her!”

You collapse on the sofa, so many thoughts fucking whirling.

You'd kissed Nanami.

He'd touched you… fuck he tasted you!

How would you face him Monday, serving him with his dumb almond croissant and black coffee?

You…

You were in deep.

Chapter 2

(Finished fic on Ao3, I'll be posting chaps on here too though)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56003029/chapters/142230640

[yxngbxkkie]

Hello, can you write 1 from drunk love confessions x Lee Know?? I just think it would be so Minho😭

thank you so much for sending one in! i apologize for how long it's taken for me to write it 😭💓 i hope you like it 🥰

1. "I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?"

~

You're laying in bed with Soonie when your phone starts to ring. You pause on petting the orange cat and glance towards the device, seeing Chan's name printed across the top.

"Hello?" You mumble into the phone after answering Chan's call.

"Y/N, hey! Can you do me a huge favor?" He asks you. You sit up on the bed, agreeing to help without hesitation. "Our driver who was with Minho just called, and he has food poisoning. Would you be able to pick him up? He texted me saying that he's a tad drunk."

You pet Soonie once more before getting up from the mattress. "Yeah, I can do that," you chuckle softly, feet padding into the living area. "I just have to grab my shoes. Text me his location?"

Chan agrees and bids you goodbye. Not without reminding you how thankful he is first. You slip your boots on before telling Soonie, Doongie, and Dori that you'd be back with their father.

It doesn't take long for you to get to the studio Minho's in. You exit the vehicle after parking, locking the doors behind you. You're glad that you didn't have trouble with security, being able to get into the building right away.

The show is just ending by the time you see Min. Your smile widens as Minho chats with another MC. You slowly make your way towards him, gaining the attention of the man he's speaking with.

"Oh, who's this?" The man asks Minho, pointing in your direction. "Significant other?"

You're about to correct the man when Minho's body collides with yours. "Jagiya, you're here," he says while wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "Chan didn't tell me you were coming."

A giggle leaves your lips as your gaze shifts from the man behind Min to his beautiful eyes. "Surprise then," you tell him, rubbing his sides a bit. "Ready to go home? The babies are waiting."

Minho gasps loudly and looks around to make sure he has everything. "Yes, let's go. I miss seeing my babies," he sighs, stumbling back towards you.

You chuckle some more, draping an arm across his back to help steady him. You respectfully say goodbye to the man Minho was talking to before the two of you leave the studio.

"Are you feeling okay?" You ask Minho after you help him through the door to your apartment.

He crashes onto the couch, lazily smiling in your direction. "I'm good, pretty," Minho says loud enough.

"Do you want some water?" You question him, grabbing a cup from the cupboard.

"Please."

You nod your head and fill the plastic cup with water. A chuckle escapes your lips as Soonie plops down onto the man's chest. You place the cup onto the coffee table before sitting down beside him.

You're petting Soonie as Minho brings one of his hands to your thigh. He looks up at you, turning his head slightly. Your eyes meet his gaze, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"What?" You whisper, getting slightly embarrassed under his gaze.

"I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?" Minho mutters, hovering his free hand near your cheek.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your hand that was petting Soonie halts. You blink a couple of times before nodding your head, yes.

Minho's fingers brush your cheek, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His thumb glides across your cheekbone, his dark eyes taking in your beauty.

"You're so pretty," he whispers. You swallow, feeling the tension between you two start to thicken. "I'm so lucky to know you."

"You're being really affectionate," you mumble, dropping your head.

His fingers move to your chin, lifting your face back up. "Do you love me?" Minho asks you, a serious look on his face. "Do you love me the way I love you?"

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. "Y-Yeah, Min," you whisper loud enough. "I've loved you for a while."

He smiles at you, gently pushing Soonie off of him. He shifts his body so he's sitting up, his hand sliding towards the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut as he leans in to kiss you.

You bring one of your hands to his face, stroking his cheek before combing through his hair. You move your lips against his, and Minho lets a moan slip out.

You pull away suddenly, causing the man to whine. "Wait, not yet," Minho mentions, chasing your lips.

"You can kiss me tomorrow," you laugh at him, patting his cheek lightly.

"Promise?"

He gives you puppy eyes, and you can't help but melt a little inside. You place a gentle kiss on his nose before whispering, "I promise."

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[forbidden-sin-bin]

By Your Side - Chapter 3

Summary: Only appearing as a mere background extra a few times, your hopes of landing a large enough role to be truly seen dwindles by the minute. In the midst of the long wait, you bury yourself in being the hardest working part-time barista the café has to offer.

Oh, and say hello to your new manager, who’s also working hard to make ends meet.

---

August 27, 1997

---

Brushing your apron smooth, you made your way to the cash register with a your usual practiced smile. "Welcome to the Tango Palace. What can I get you today?"

The welcoming expression on your face was far from the reality of your situation right now. And boy, it was bad.

Ever since the trip from New York feeling like a success, the days of receiving nothing but silence on your end slowly melted into creeping disappointment. Waiting by the phone for hours on end, all for nothing, the day wasted.

And it wasn't just the callback that you were waiting for: you had dozens of tryouts in the race against many others - improvs, scripts, interviews, singing, even a literal hand evaluation - in order to take that one and only spot of being chosen.

Though your parents were always happy whenever you landed a spot as an extra in the background of a single scene, be it movie or tv show, it did nothing to quell the shot-through nerves of wondering if the agency would ever give you an update on that callback you did.

At this point, nearing the new school year for Quinn's first year of kindergarten was the only silver lining in all of this. No doubt, you were proud, but it was bittersweet seeing them grow so fast. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that you had brought him home from the hospital, and in a blink he's walking, talking and ready to learn how to read.

In fact, you were so lost in reminiscing you nearly missed your customer's order.

Realizing you may or may not have zoned out for a second too long, you mentally slapped yourself as you quickly typed out the order. "S-sorry! Was it a regular coffee, one cream, no sugar?"

"And a quiche." Your customer sighed. "Jesus Christ..."

You nodded as you forced down your panic and irritation at the backhanded comment, giving them the total as you set the register to print out the receipt. "Alright, it'll only take a second." Whipping around, you set to work on pouring out a steaming hot cup of coffee, freshly brewed, and placing a pre-prepared veggie quiche out of the fridge and into the oven, dialing the settings to heat it just right.

Holding back your own sigh, you leaned back on the countertop as you waited. Truth be told, you weren't sure if the thought of getting fired was more stressful, or the thought of becoming a good-for-nothing that's entirely possible in the near future was worse. Either way, you couldn't lose this job.

The owners were kind enough, and business wasn't overly crowded with people, but you wanted to show them that hiring you was the best decision they could've made. Thinking about anything that isn't the job is the complete opposite of what you're trying to prove.

'Don't think of anything but what's in front of you, right now.'

---

Later that evening...

---

You tossed each letter onto the table in two separate piles; One for bills, the other for junk mail. After an uneventful day of serving customers, you returned home as always, filtering out the mail for your parents before they came home.

It wouldn't be long before the school year started, and you'd have to cut your hours in order to pick Quinn up from school, elsewise he'd be stuck in the after-care program till six, which wasn't fair for him at all.

It wasn't as if your family was poor or in debt, rather down on its luck. Your parents working at desk jobs required them to be there from at least nine to five, there was little to no time to take a break, especially now that they're not just working to keep the house afloat; If all else failed, you'd have to pick a course and go through community college just to get some degree that'll help you find a job that pays.

A part of you feared that you'd be kicked out eventually, which terrified your thoughts of not being able to take care of Quinn. And not being able to take care of Quinn means you're probably getting kicked out of the house like every other parent does to their kid that doesn't deliver.

Alright, that last part is debatable. But it’s possible, and you weren’t taking any chances.

And by not taking any chances, you sure as hell weren’t about to let the phone ring twice as you practically leaped over the kitchen table to pick it up.

"Hi! Hello?! Sorry- hello?"

"H-hello? Hi, is this-?" A stressed voice stutters out your first and last name.

Your face, initially bright with hope fell comically quick as you realized it wasn't an agency calling you for a role. Instead, a somewhat nervous voice of a young man answered. From how he sounded you could tell he was sweating bullets coming out of the other side of the phone.

"Yes, hi. That would be correct." You replied, not bothering to hide your deadpan shift in mood. This however didn't seem to phase the stranger.

"Oh, great! I saw your resume sent in to my agency, and I see you're looking for an agent to represent you in the coming years? Hopefully trying to find work?"

A few seconds of silence passed as you processed his response. 'Oh shoot, they actually remembered?' You thought with wide eyes.

"He-hello?"

"Yep, still on the line. May I ask who's calling?"

"Sean Warden. Sorry I should've introduced myself at the start but-"

You cut him off. "All good. And to answer your question: Yes. I'm in need of assistance in receiving job offers. Is that sufficient?"

"Awesome. So, the reason I'm calling you right now is because I have a proposition to offer you."

Again, silence, as if he was awaiting a reaction out of you. You however, had already begun to lose patience. "...Please continue." You held back a sigh, beginning to wonder if this is some sort of prank call or scam caller.

Still, this 'Sean' guy seemed either desperate or eager as he revealed his intention.

"I would like to represent you as your agent."

...

A few hours later...

...

"I'm going to be honest with you: This is not how I expected a potential signing of a client to look like."

Sitting inside a Tim Horton's café, coffee cups in hand, you found yourself sitting at a two-person table with a young, skittish and scrawny looking man in his mid to late twenties. Admittedly, this isn't the kind of guy you'd expect to meet.

Sharing an awkward silence, both of you holding small black coffees, neither of you had the gall to break the painful, painful silence. At least, until you've finished reading the whole entire contract that he gave you.

Given you're in the middle of the second page out of... eight, this was going to be a long evening.

Flicking your gaze at him for a brief glance away from your reading, you saw no impatience, only anxiousness, in his face. "Sorry if I'm taking up your time." You offered, figuring it'd be the least you could do for someone who hasn't been pushing your buttons.

Sean waves you off. "No need, I'm just happy you've agreed to even see me. I'll take anything, really."

You raised a brow. 'Anything, he says.' Your thoughts wandered away to making it seem as if you weren't the first option of employment, probably the last.

"O-oh, no no nonono, I didn't mean it like that!" He corrects himself, probably noticing or fearing that he might've made you reconsider signing that contract. "I mean- like-" He sighs, covering his face with a hand, filled with stress. "Don't get me wrong, I absolutely wanted to pick you as a client. I've seen your resume and everything; I can see the potential you have, I mean it."

Nodding, you resumed scanning the papers. "Continue. I'm listening, don't worry." Seeing that he hadn't missed his shot, he relaxed a little.

"I'm not trying to sell a sob story, it's just the truth. As you may know, the work I do is to find others work; Aspiring actors, music artists, the like? I'm no beginner to this, I've had many clients in the past and I haven't failed finding them jobs. But when there's older, more experienced agents... Well, you'd want to be represented by them more than me."

You hummed in acknowledgement, not taking your eyes off the contract as you flipped to page 3.

"My last three clients have all decided to move on to find a more renowned agency, meaning that as of now, I've no one to find work for, which also means my wages are little to none at the moment." Sean finished, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table, looking down as he finished. "What I'm offering you right now isn't the end all, be all. I promise you, regardless of what's going on in my personal and home life, I'll give it my all to find you what you need." It almost sounds like a plead, coming from him. "If you end up parting ways with me in the future, that's more than okay! It's just... please. Give me this chance to help you out."

Finally, you raised your head to look at him. Keeping your face neutral, you finally spoke after a few moments:

"Could you do something for me, if I do sign?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, of course! What is it?"

Taking sip of your coffee first, you then reached into your bag and handed him your notebook. Well, one of many... but you knew this one had something you were looking for, and you couldn't reach it by yourself.

Flipping through to the page you wanted him to see, you slid the notebook over too him. "There's someone I know that's been looking to release an EP this year... probably this year, I don't know exactly. Problem is, you can't find their stuff here, only in Detroit. Think you could help me out?"

"Can I?" He almost laughed in relief. "Say no more." Scanning the written contact info that wasn't written in your hand, you watched as he holds the notebook closer to his face as something flickers across his expression. "Hold on a second..." First starting from genuine interest slowly melted to confusion, then familiarity.

You raised a brow. "Is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Sean's gray eyes widened in recognition, and indignation.

"OH, NOT THAT BALD-HEADED BASTARD?!"

...

....

.....

A few weeks later...

...

"OH, NOT THAT SMUG FUCKIN TWINK."

Marshall's head snapped up from writing another let of lyrics as he looked at his recently-signed agent, Paul. "The fuck you goin on about man?"

Holding the letter in his hands, Paul looked like he was glaring daggers into the paper. "Not you! It's this guy that I knew from law school, fucking annoying is what he was." Tossing the paper to his table, he sighed as he walked out of the room. "Take a look if you want, apparently his client claims to know you or something. They're waiting for your EP."

'How the hell'd they know already, this fuckin early?' Marshall picked up the paper, lazily scanning through the content that somehow got Paul pissed enough to take a hike. The signed name of the writer, Sean Warden, didn't ring any bells except the one labelled: 'white guy's name', if it wasn't obvious enough.

No one here would name their kid Sean, for fucks sake.

The name of his client however... slowly, but eventually remembering that day they met, even if it was only for a few minutes, was not forgotten on either of them, it seems.

Marshall huffed out a laugh.

"Hoooooooly fuckin shit. That bitch actually did it."

----

(End of Chapter 3)

----

A/N: HAPPY 1 YEAR AND... *checks calendar* NEARLY THREE MONTHS Y'ALL

Yep.

I think you already know I'm about to apologize again, so uhh... I'm extremely, very sorry? If any of you are still waiting I'm incredibly sorry for the long ass wait. I said previously it was all uphill from here, which was a LIE IT SEEMS

But just to make it up to you all... Chapter 4 is coming THIS WEEK. So there's something to look forward too I hope! Chapter 5 is coming a few weeks after as well. But I hope this suffices for now, thank you for your patience <3

Taglist: @eminemsorangejuice , @slimshay-castle , @jackiehollanderr , @mizzysx , @esposadomd , @dimitrampl , @hallecarey1 , @krillfromsky , @nabiiturner, @swimregulas , @olivesarenicetoeat17 , @linnottt​ , @harryswif3 , @liathelioness , @roundbrownlover​ , @crimsonincursive , @akemiixx01 , @lizzy06 , @chxe-zdechnac , @ellies-femme , @qwerrry , @born2wyn , @thefemalestorywriter , @milllieeee , @neozen-23 , @in0320

(Let me know in my ask box if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

[dudecreature]

Clean Shaven

Pairing: [Established] Price x GN! Reader Synopsis: Price shaves his beard after a mission goes haywire. Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: descriptions of razors A/N: I feel like I was MIA (´～`) it is finals season after all. - the reader's callsign is Bullseye (they're a sniper and I am unoriginal lol) and - we are definitely not going to talk about how I had to google whether a movie would be on a DVD or a CD... - Enjoy! Like and reblog if you did <3

“Fuckin’ HELL. Soap!”

“Price! Shite! I’m so sorry!!”

That is all that was heard over the comms. You and Gaz shot a mix of concerned and confused looks at each other on the rooftop they were currently located. Soap and Price were the ones to infiltrate the building to find the information they needed, then blow it all to hell. You were there to provide sniper assistance and Gaz was there to fly the helicopter (he got his license and no way in hell was he going to let anyone else do that. not with his track record). 

“Price, Soap. How copy?” Gaz said through the comms. There was silence for a short while, but you could still see movement through the windows of the compound. They seemed like they were still alive and hopefully uninjured. you kept your eyes through the scope tracking both men through the building, waiting with bated breath to hear back from them. 

“Guys, how copy?” You had asked over the comms after Gaz had already asked twice. It was frustrating silence, but you understood not having a safe opening to answer comms. Suddenly the comms crackle back to life from their end.

“Copy fine Bullseye, nice an’ crispy.” Price sounded angry and he hesitated at the last bit. Soap was going to get it this time. According to the mission, the team needed to get as much information as possible, and then blow the place to smithereens. Price knew what they were looking for, and Soap liked to make things go boom. The pairing made sense at the time. 

You looked at Gaz in bewilderment 'What the hell is he talking about?' printed across their faces. Gaz could only shrug, he knew as much as you did. Soap and Price ended up splitting through the rooms. Price headed to the office where all of the files were stored and Soap to find the weak points of the buildings. 

"Soap I've got as much as I can find. You ready to detonate those planted bombs, mate?" Price's gruff voice sounded in your ear. You smile to yourself, proud of the man as always. In and out with no injuries, as it should be. Soap chatters off an excited reply and the two exit the building. 

You watch through the scope of your rifle as the two stealthily exit the building. You notice that something seems… off about Price. You can sense the scowl from where they are from a hundred meters away. He looked a little different, though you couldn’t quite place it. 

You could finally place it once the two had gotten closer. Soap trailed behind a grouchy Price. Oh... Oh no... Oh no no no. You now understood why Price was so grouchy. 

Half of his beard was burnt off. The left half of his face looked naked, the hair on his face was half burnt. The charred hair traveled from his nose all the way up his cheek and near his ear. Barely missing his precious hat.

“What the hell happened to you?” You were unabashedly shocked at what you had seen. You trodded up to the pair with Gaz at their side, Bullseye and Gaz stared at their captain in awe. The former had packed their things quickly to get out of there quickly. You had gotten in close to assess the damage to his beard, their hands ghosting over his cheek and above his lip. 

“I’m fine darling, don't fuss ‘bout it.” He paused and shot a thumb back at a very remorseful Soap and said “This one was playin' with a lighter he found and lit my beard on fire.” His hands found yours and held them while you traced his cheekbone. He looked down at them with tender eyes, appreciating the fact you were worried about him, but hated the look on your face. He leaned down to their left ear, the intact half of his beard scratching their face slightly, and whispered to them,

“Jus’ a bit of cosmetic damage.” He kissed your cheek and neck quickly before moving to get in the helicopter. You sighed at the loss of contact, threw your stuff on the bed of the helicopter, and climbed in. Gaz at the wheel the group got into the air and flew over the enemy compound. With confirming word from Price, Soap excitedly detonated the bombs he had placed and the place erupted into flames and fell to rubble in a matter of seconds. You could almost feel the heat of the flames that engulfed where the building once stood. 

You looked to Price to admire him, only to catch his eye. You smiled softly at the captain and looked down at what was left of his beard. He saw this and touched the charred hair, cringing at how different it felt. It had been a while since he could feel the wind on his upper lip, it made him shift his mouth awkwardly. He needed a reflection to judge just how bad it was, and to decide how he would deal with it. 

Price knew that his lover liked his beard, you had often commented on how it tickled when they kissed (among other things *wink wink*), and would help him groom it on occasion. His beard was a staple of his look, aside from his hat, and having to part with it gave him a sense of anxiety he hadn’t ever felt before. He worried how his Bullseye would feel if he had to shave it all off, maybe he could keep a little of it just to hopefully keep them with him. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Bullseye bumped his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be alright love, it grows back.” You said with endearment. He huffed a response and scratched awkwardly at his face still. When the group arrived back to base Price was able to hide the accident behind his hand in the debrief, the darkness of the room aiding him. Once the four were dismissed he was the first to leave the room, bustling down the halls praying no one saw him. 

You followed at a slower pace, allowing for the man much-needed space from everyone. When you arrived at the door of their shared room you knocked gently calling out for him. When you had heard a response you then asked if you could join him. The door suddenly opened and he looked down at them with a look in his eyes that you were not able to place.

“It’s your room too you know, of course you can come in,” he grumbled and made space for them to make their way into the room. 

“I know, I just wanted to give you the option of having a moment to yourself, love.” Bullseye responded in a soft and caring tone. You knew how much he liked his facial hair, and he also knew how much you liked his facial hair. However, you wanted to check in on him first. you sat on the shared bed and patted the spot next to them, offering a seat to the Captain.

He sat down next to them with a soft sigh and leaned his head on their shoulder. you were trying to comfort him and he knew this. Accepting the gentle affection and support, he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He wasn't the type to talk about his insecurities or when he was feeling anything but confident, but there was something inherently trustworthy about Bullseye. It had drawn him in the first time they had met so many years ago.

“Will you help me fix this?” he asked in a soft tone. you nodded and stroked his back. As he stood, you stood with him and followed him into his personal bathroom. you knew where everything was, so you pulled out the scissors, shears, and the razor and shaving cream. Taking a washcloth, you had run it under warm water and heated it to a very comforting temperature. Price was pushed to sit on a chair that was brought into the bathroom, right in front of the large mirror. Bullseye stood in front of him as you wrung out the washcloth of excess water. When you turned, Price was looking up at them, with so much love in his eyes one would think that he hadn’t been a hardened soldier for nearly two decades. 

you smile softly at the man, gently take his hat off, and place the warm cloth on the bottom half of his face. After a few silent minutes, you took the washcloth off and wiped as much of the grime left on his face as you could. You took your time and were able to admire the man's face. The way his eyebrows furrowed when they got close to his eyes. The straight bridge of his nose and the crow's feet developing near the corners of his eyes. You suddenly broke the silence as gently as you could.

“Are we trying to salvage the chops or are we going for a clean shave?” you ran their hands through the right half of his face, scratching at the salvaged portion of the beard. He grumbled and his top lip twitched in thought. you waited patiently for the man to make up his mind and you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. 

“Do you think it can be saved?” he asked slightly hopeful, but honestly he knew there was no chance of saving it. He ran a gentle hand down the burnt hairs on his face and sighed; he looked up at them catching their eyes. you shook their head solemnly, just as he figured. “Clean-shaven it is then, love.”

you nodded in response and grabbed the army-issued shaving cream and his straight razor. you gather some of the shaving cream into the palm of their hand before gently lathering it over his cheeks, and chin. 

“Ready?” you ask, looking at him waiting for an answer. He took a deep breath and nodded, his eyes still looking at you. They never left. Bullseye takes the handle of the razor and carefully glides it down his right cheek. The sharp blade takes all of the hair with it leaving the soft skin of his cheek exposed to the air. 

Bullseye wipes the stolen hair onto a towel next to the sink. Readying for another stroke you look down at Price, his eyes closed in a relaxed state. You smile to yourself and continue their actions, curving with the shapes of his face, and being careful not to knick him. 

After you had fully finished shaving his face (you even cleaned up his eyebrows a little), you put the washcloth back onto his face. It had been rewarmed by the water. Ensuring to get all the leftover hair off, you then put his aftershave on his cheeks. 

Price had then opened his eyes when he felt the slight sting of the aftershave, but he didn't flinch. He hesitated before looking from their eyes to the mirror. When he did he was slightly shocked, he had forgotten how much older the beard had made him look. His beard definitely added about 5 years to his looks. After examining his face for a few moments, he looked back to the other person in the room.

“Well… how do I look, darling?” He looked up at you expectantly (and with so much rizz). You chucked at the goofy face he made and shook your head with a smile. 

“You look as pretty as always.” You shoot back at him. You turn around and begin cleaning up the impromptu barber shop. He stood up from his seat and admired your work, his hand rubbing where his chops once were. Once you had finished cleaning up your station you had turned back around to face him. You wrapped your arms around his torso and smiled at him lovingly.

“Do ya wanna go watch a movie?” you ask him. The common room would be a good place for you to both unwind (in the most wholesome of ways). All you wanted to do was curl up with him and watch one of the movies on base. He hummed a confirming nod and squeezed you back. He led the way to the common room after you separated.

Price was thankful for the lack of people in the halls, he didn't want to have to deal with the odd looks and stares he would likely have gotten if there were anyone there. The two of you made your way through the halls, your pinkies intertwined, gently guiding each other. 

As the two of you make it to the common room, you cross over the threshold of the doorway and are greeted by three other figures. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost have already claimed the common room as their choice of relaxation. The three men notice your presence at roughly the same time, and an awkwardly tense silence fills the space. The three of them, with their heads all locked onto the two of you still frozen in the doorway, shock visible in each of their faces.

Soap’s face configures from shock to that of what looked like genuine horror. Ghost’s eyes were wide and unmoving from Price’s face and Gaz’s mouth hung open, unable to comprehend the new look their Captain was given. You managed to stifle your laughter but a smile still tugged its way to your cheeks, you had never seen them so emotive before. Price sighed and tried to hide his face saying

“Take a bloody picture, it’ll last longer you muppets,” he grumbled aggravated at the attention.

“Did I do that?!” Soap yelled at a volume able to burst ear drums. He leapt from his seat on the couch and stood in front of Price with his head bowed downward.

“I am so sorry, Price!” he all but wept in the older man's arms at the apology. The silence from the other two men in the room was noticed when you and Price found yourselves looking at them, waiting for their input on the situation.

Ghost stayed still as ever, unmoving and steady.

“Put it back,” he muttered, barely audible. You make a noise of confusion, that Ghost reads as if you were not able to hear him.

“Put. It. Back.” he says with a more stern tone. You burst out a laugh unable to contain it. They all look at you in confusion and when you notice you stumble something about how stupid the three of them look right now. Gaz still mouth wide open finally shuts it and states very proudly

“Well, I think it looks great. You have a very handsome face.” His arms are crossed over his chest and he is nodding in confidence. Price deadpans at his statement and sighs for what feels like the millionth time that day. His beard was going to grow back totally gray at the rate of these idiots.

You put your hand on the top of Price’s back and tell the team that the two of you were going to wind down with a movie of Price’s choice. After the initial shock had worn off the two still on the couch, they agreed. Soap however still looked upset at himself, and every time he looked at Price he frowned a little more.

Price pulled the man aside and barely within earshot tells Soap he wasn’t that mad about it, but he would be on bathroom and dish duty for the next four months. You chuckle to yourself at his punishment and ready the movie on an old DVD player that Gaz had brought to the base. Classic Price chose a Clint Eastwood movie to watch.

The two of you curled onto the loveseat together while the other three sat on the couch. Price held your hand the entire movie and when you leaned to whisper into his ear he leaned down to hear you.

“How long will it take to grow back… Ghost wants to know." That last bit was definitely a lie. Price knew this, chuckled, and pushed your face away from him. You let out an undignified noise and kissed his hand looking at him. You smiled and mouthed the words that he would parrot back to you for the rest of your lives. 

“I love you.”

[mintywolf]

(I wrote this on the train coming home on August 26th although I am just getting around to posting it now because time is a weird soup.)

So okay.

****

I haven’t written a personal journal post in a long time but I want to write down EVERYTHING I can remember about my adventure to NYC to see the Critical Role cast so I don’t forget. It was SUCH a moving experience and I’m so glad I went even though I was scared.

So okay my big goal for this year was to finish the first chapter of my C3 prequel fan comic A Long Road Home (southerngothiccomic.com), have a print edition made, and meet Laura and Marisha at a convention so I could give copies of it to them in person. When the CR cast announced they were going to be at Anime NYC this year I figured that was the closest they were probably going to get to me in Virginia. (And getting autographs at NYCC is reportedly like hunting a unicorn so I figured this would be my best chance.)

I was also terrified, and almost talked myself out of it because I was nervous about giving them the comic, even though I already had a badge and it was what I really, really wanted to do. I know the cast loves to see fanart — and also, it has been revealed, reads the fanfic — but it’s also a pretty well-known taboo for a fan to show their fanfic to a creator and a graphic novel is an unholy hybrid of the two. I was also worried that it would seem presumptuous of me to present them with a fanmade prequel graphic novel because there’s almost certainly going to be an official one at some point, and afraid that at best they might politely tell me they couldn’t accept it (for the reasons that comic writers aren’t “allowed” to read fanfic), and at worst they might be kind of annoyed that it exists. Either way I’d be REALLY sad, and in the weeks leading up to the con I worked myself up into an irrational panic about this. Fortunately my friends managed to talk me into not backing out (and spoilers: it turned out okay in the end!) but I was still very scared.

Also I was so focused on the comic stuff that I forgot until after GenCon earlier this month to think of what I wanted to actually have autographed. I decided to get a big print of the chapter one cover from INPRNT, assuming that since I ordered it two weeks in advance with an eta of 5-7 days that would be plenty of time for it to get to me. Well, reader, it was not. (But please do not let me dissuade you from using INPRNT! To their credit when I contacted them and asked if I could upgrade to rush delivery, they expedited it for free. Unfortunately even with rush shipping it just missed me, arriving at my house while I was on the train to NYC.)

Pâté on the train going to see his biological parents. (Laura and Marisha.)

When I saw that it wasn’t going to arrive in time I was starting to panic because there is nowhere near me to have art prints made. It’s a 15 minute drive (past the alpaca farm) just to get to the nearest grocery store. Grasping at straws I was kind of like Should I . . . draw something? On paper?? With real media that I haven’t used in like 10 years??? I only have 3 days!!!

Fortunately my life was saved by @emphaticembroiderer who had the brilliant suggestion of sending my art ahead to a print shop in NYC and picking it up before the convention. There are indeed MANY of those in New York and I managed to find one that was open on Saturdays and able to make my print on short notice. (567 Framing on W 14th street. The owner, Jack Hu, did excellent work and was very kind!) By that point I was frazzled and didn’t want two of the same print so I decided to be self-indulgent and had this one made. Not my showiest piece but it is one of my favorite things I’ve drawn. (This turned out to be the correct decision.) It’s a 6 1/2 hour train ride from here to there (and it got a little delayed along the way) so by the time I got there it was after 5 and the print shop closed at 6:30 so I zoomed over there straight from the train station to pick it up. It turned out BEAUTIFULLY, and the owner was pleased with how happy I was with it and that he’d been able to help.

He enjoys that he is included.

Then I went and checked in to my hotel and that point really just wanted to lie down on a bed but I had plans to take Pâté to see Hadestown on Broadway that night because I wanted to make the most of my trip. (Also it’s important for our scrungly son to receive a cultural education.) In keeping with the theme of the weekend I wore the Laudna-themed sundress I made for GenCon with one of the poppies in my hair. An usher told me they liked my ensemble. :) I had decided to go for a front row mezzanine seat because I didn’t know when I’d ever have this opportunity again and I didn’t want to risk my miniature self being stuck behind a tall person. It was perfect; I could see everything and the performance was AMAZING. Pâté had a very good time too.

The next day was the CR panel and autographs!! I decided to wear my 1950s Laudna cosplay from GenCon. I had some doubts about it when I got there because without the rest of 50s Bells Hells the theme isn’t as clear and outside of a DnD-focused convention the recognizability of a CR character is kind of low, let alone an AU variant on one. But once I found the Critters my Pâté poodle skirt was appreciated. :)

This is Rach @dadrielle, Astoria @astoriacolumnstaircase, Abby @overnighttosunflowers, and me as 50s Hells at GenCon!

And okay I know this said a lot but it’s true, CR fans are the NICEST fandom to be a part of. <3 If you’re ever standing in line for a CR thing by the time you get there you will have new friends. (For comparison the other-fandoms cosplayers I saw at the hotel and on the way to the con didn’t even return my smiles, even though we were all clearly going to the same place.) I fell in with a group of people who were near me in line (including an amazing Owlbearman cosplayer) and we decided to all sit together. The panel was really great. I don’t remember everything that was asked because of everything ELSE that happened later that day but they hinted that Big Things are coming (including multiple live shows!! Please come to Richmond! Or DC! Or at least somewhere on the East Coast!) for the 10th anniversary and Momlan stepped up to the mic during the Q&A segment and revealed that Sam has achieved his childhood dream . . . to become a minotaur. :D

With the mindset of making the most of this trip I had intended to try to get a spot in line to ask a question but I was hesitant about being on camera (even in cosplay) and while I was dithering about it like 50 people got in line. (I was also Suffering by that point because my rockabilly Laudna shoes have like 3 inch heels and after walking from the hotel to the convention center I didn’t have the fortitude to dart over to the line in them.)

My question, which I hope to submit next time there’s a Q&A opportunity, was this: For Marisha. We’ve seen Delilah’s influence manifesting in Laudna’s fashion choices recently. Now that she has the means and the freedom to do so, what kind of clothes would she choose for herself?

(Because I am a little sad that — until a possible post-campaign oneshot — we’ll never get to see a high-level Laudna costume that’s totally of her own design and I’m really eager to know what it would look like! Let her be spooky and free!)

Afterwards the cosplayers were being rounded up for a photo shoot but I was anxious to get a good spot in line for my autograph with Laura at 2pm so I stealthed away with Ken (@elissabrat), a Jester fan I had met in line, who knew where they were and had one with Travis at the same time. When we got there we were told No, go away and come back in an hour and a half, because it was still only 12. So we went to the Artists Alley where we found a girl named Lea whom we had also met in the panel line and collected a few other stray Critters (Ken has a boisterous and inviting personality and importantly, is very tall, preventing the rest of us from getting lost in the crowd) and we wandered around seeking out all the CR fan artists we could find. (There were a lot! It was great. I got some prints.)

by Cait May and Maliveth

Around 1 we decided to go back and see what the line situation was. Before we parted ways I exchanged twitter handles with Lea, who looked at my profile and said “Wait . . . this is you?”

She told me she was a big fan of my comic and looks forward to it every week! and we were both kind of like !!! at each other for a moment. I had never met someone who recognized my art in the wild before. (On ANY other day this would have been the most amazing thing that happened to me, haha.) I was so touched to meet her. <3

I took out the two books I was carrying and explained why I was there and we all got hyped up about it. And it made it feel a little less daunting, to know that there was someone there who understood the quest I was on and how close I was to the end of it.

I was like 5th in line for Laura and since it was still early I got to participate in that bonding experience integral to every con, sitting on the floor in cosplay, with a very good Vex behind me. (Hilariously, even after the dig at them — or maybe unaware of it — in the most recent episode, there were a lot of Funko Pop resellers around us, haha.)

I sent word to Southern Gothic Discord to remember me fondly in case I died here. In fact I'm not entirely sure that I didn't.

It felt like there was a disproportionate amount of fanfare revealing my print because I kept it how it was packed by the printer, wrapped in paper in between two pieces of cardboard so it wouldn’t get bent, so there was this whole ceremony of peeling back the tape, turning under one of the cardboard protectors, unfolding the paper, and turning over the print. But Laura loved it. She made like a happy sob when she saw it (it was really cute) and she looked at it for a long time taking in all the details and said it was beautiful. <3 <3 <3 (No matter how much we love and ship Imogen and Laudna, NO ONE loves them or is shipping them harder than Laura Bailey. She asked if I was going to bring it to Marisha too and was careful picking out a spot so there'd be room for both of their signatures. :))

I told her I was really happy to meet her because I’ve been a fan since BloodRayne (so, um. 20 years) and she said “oh wow, that was OG days!” And she gave me just a really kind look like she understood how much it meant to me to be there.

Then I gave her the comic. You all were right, I was worried about nothing! because she is the sweetest and she loved it. I very nervously pushed it across the table and said it was a comic I had made and wanted to give her. She picked it up and started turning the pages and was surprised when she saw what it was. “Wait, this is a whole novel! You made this?”

I confessed that I had, and she asked how long it had taken, I told her about a year (it was actually longer; in the moment I kind of forgot not how many pages there are in the first chapter but how many weeks are in a year) and she looked just really impressed that I had made it and touched by how much work had gone into it. She said she couldn’t wait to read it and seemed really excited to hear that it’s still going online! (So no pressure on me there if she's keeping up with it now, haha. o.o) And she kept looking between the book and me like she couldn’t believe it.

Then she asked me if I would sign it for her. :')

Somehow I survived long enough to do so! (a little wobbly because my hands were shaking) and someone (I think it was the ticket scanner) made a joke about how I was the first person to give an autograph at a signing, haha. And then she came around the table and gave me a hug. <3 <3 <3

After that my soul was still on the ethereal plane but the rest of me managed to find my way (after a brief wrong turn) to Marisha’s line. (There was a really good Keyleth and Caduceus in line behind me and they kindly noticed and returned the Pâté sticker that fell out of Marisha’s book).

She recognized my cosplay as 1950s Laudna right away! which was very validating after my earlier indecision haha. She loved the Pâté skirt and thought the scissors embroidery on my collar was adorable. She really liked the art too and was kind of like “Awww” about the book like in an “aww it’s an Imogen and Laudna thing” kind of way (she also liked the glass bottle windchimes on the cover and I love that she noticed that detail because Laudna’s penchant for turning things other people have thrown away into arts and crafts is one of my favorite aspects of her character) until she opened it and started looking through it.

Then she said, “Wait, this is actually really good," and she asked me seriously if Liam “Art Dad” knew about it (I said he had liked some of my other art on Twitter but I didn’t know if he knew about the comic) and then she said — still looking at it, more to herself than me — “We’ll have to add it to our art catalogue.” I don’t know exactly what that means (and I don’t want to get my hopes up too high by speculating; I was too !!! in the moment to ask and now I’m going to be wondering) but . . . it sounds . . . exciting??

They also both enjoyed Pâté and his lil sunglasses. :)

I had gone up with the intention of asking my other burning question: How does being cold-blooded affect Laudna in cold climates? If she gets too cold will she enter a state of brumation like a lizard? Will she freeze solid?

But I forgot. And it really wouldn’t have been the right moment. Maybe when I come back with Volume Two. :)

You’re supposed to pay extra to get a quote put on there but they both did it anyway without even asking. I think they must be really pleased when someone brings them something personal that they’ve made to have signed and not something they’re planning to sell.

After that I just kind of floated away from the con even though it was only like 2:30 haha. Nothing else could have happened there that would have equaled or improved upon that experience. Although I did adopt a Tentacle Kitty. The vendor (correctly) guessed “you look like you’d vibe with our spooky collection” so I had to get a new buddy for Pâté. (50s Laudna, still readily identifiable as a witch wherever she goes.) Also I saw a very chill emotional support pomeranian in a backpack.

(On the way back I saw the mark of the Traveler graffiti’d in green on the sidewalk. Truly a blessed day. :P)

Afterwards I just sat on the bed in my hotel room amid the floof of my crinoline wondering what even is my life for the next few hours and being like !!!! at Discord. Then I met up with Abby (whom it was wonderful to see again!! thank you so much for coming to see me) for dinner and had a really lovely time going over the What Just Happened of it all and talking about Imodna over strawberry pancakes. As one does. Perfect ending to an amazing day. <3

It was SUCH an incredible, exhilarating experience, thank you everyone who pushed me into not giving up out of fear. Laura and Marisha are SO nice and gracious in person and it was just so rewarding, after all the work and love and time I’ve put into this comic, to be able to finally bring it to the people who inspired it! And to see it appreciated and admired by them! It was more than I ever could have imagined.

This fandom is the best. My heart is so happy and full of love right now. <3 <3 <3

[yuusishi]

Hello, can i ask for Idia or Ace (I can't choose between the two the one I want, so you can choose it), Lilia and Ruggie (my man need more love) hc with a reader that adopt legally Grim ? Like, now Grim have the last name of reader, and he call reader his dad/parent, and they have to be approved by Grim to date the reader ?

(separate please)

Have a good day/night (sorry for my bad english)

-Anon

. . . INTRO TO NON-HUMAN PARENTHOOD

pairings : Ace Trappola , Lilia Vanrouge , Ruggie Bucchi x gn!reader

genre : fluff , written with graduated!reader + characters in mind , established relationship

cws/tws : very tiny book 7 spoilers…like rlly small

a/n : it feels so weird not having any work done since my teachers assigned all our work before christmas break so we’d be able to rest

ACE TRAPPOLA !!

If he has to be honest, he doesn't know how to feel, not in a bad way tho!! He's so used to teasing Grim as a part of the first years friend group, but now that he's legally your child (and by extension his son), it just feels weird sometimes.

But in the end their relationship doesn't change one bit, this also means there's endless bickering whenever Ace comes by your place.

The one thing he can't get used to is though is Grim referring to you as his parent. I mean, c'mon, if you've been hearing "henchmen", "my human" for years it's bound to be quite the change.

During the legal adoption process, he's the type to be beside you searching on his cheap little laptop the meaning of so many words on the documents you're meant to sign (this is his way of helping you).

It doesn't sink in for a while that the three of you are technically a family, you occasionally joke about getting married in the (probably near) future and making Grim be the ringbearer or flowerboy.

One night when Ace crashed at your place, you came home to see him and Grim passed out on the couch next to each other, even seeing two slices of pizza purposefully left for you and hints of the tomato sauce stuck on the edges of the two's lips. You smile, nothing truly changes with these two.

Lilia Vanrouge !!

He's SO excited.

Silver's getting a new stepbrother once the legal process is done.

He's slightly disappointed though that, since Grim is already grown at this point, he won't be able to raise him like he did with Malleus and Silver but he'll still consider him a son either way.

I don't think unwanted fatherhood included brushing up on law and the adoption process so your guess on what terms on the documents mean is as good as his.

But we have the internet! Like Ace he's searching the meanings and making sure you understand the depth of every word printed onto the documents. Although he's hasn't formally adopted a child, he at least knows the legal repercussions that could happen should anything happen to Grim.

Overall, he's happy to have a new addition to his family :) First it was Malleus, then Silver came by, then Sebek, then now you and Grim.

When he first heard Grim refer to you as his parent, he can’t help imagining if Grim would call him “dad” or “father” like Silver does [cue heart attack].

He thinks about his general days occasionally, especially when he gazes on as you and Grim play around the field near the house he found after leaving NRC. He did not enjoy the war, not in the slightest, but maybe fighting in it was worth it if this was the type of future he's able to enjoy.

Ruggie Bucchi !!

He was really surprised, as in super surprised.

The entire concept of parenthood didn’t interest Ruggie in the slightest since it just meant more money to spend, even if it meant you had a little bundle of joy, but when you said that you were legally adopting Grim…

He looked at you like you set off a bomb in front of him 😭.

But after calming down a bit, he realized that Grim wouldn’t be even more of a handful than he already is since it’s not like he’s a baby that needs 24/7 caring.

Ruggie’s worked a ton of part time jobs just to earn some extra cash while on Sage’s Island, so he’s definitely dabbled in the law in one way or another.

He’s also just generally smart so he was your go-to man in asking the meaning of some legal jargon and he was happy to help you free of charge.

Hearing Grim call you his parent for the first time and even refer to you as that when you’re all at home surprised him a lot.

You’re telling him the little brat that always called you “human” and “henchman” in NRC calls you his parent now?? He can’t believe it.

After finally being able to adopt Grim, he didn’t feel the need to act “fatherly” since he’s known you both for years ever since NRC. Sure, he might be more open to going on midnight snack runs, but that’s it!

When reality sets down on him that he actually has his own ‘family’ now, it was a strange feeling. A sort of bittersweet happiness. It was a dream to him that he wishes would never go away, and you were there to remind him that this was his reality.

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day

I try to fit as many out-and-about chores as possible into a single day so I only have one set of post-exertional malaise consequences instead of consequences after each day of doing a thing. So any time I decide to drive, I try to find several tasks to accomplish all at once.

My first stop was the Family Services Division in the hopes of getting some help with grocery bills. I am making ends meet, but it seems to be getting harder each month. And maybe I could have skipped my trip to Florida and saved that money, but if I don't do something drastic for my mental health, I fear this first holiday season without a parent could send me into the darkness.

I needed to do an interview to finish applying for SNAP. I wanted to do a phone interview, but the next appointment was in January. So I went to social services where they allow walk-in appointments. I waited in a tiny plastic chair for several hours until they called my name. She yelled out "Benjamin" because when most people see "Grelle" they aren't really sure how to say it. (Rhymes with belly.)

She started my interview and it was going swimmingly at first. But then she started asking questions about the house and my inheritance and my trust. I had no idea what to tell her. It feels like a mistake now, but I have had pretty much no involvement in that process. I have no idea how it works. And I started to panic because she was acting like I was committing fraud or something by not mentioning the trust. But the entire point of the trust was to protect my benefits. Nothing is mine. I own nothing. I have no access. But I had no idea how to explain that.

Maybe my lawyer can help me apply, but I did not want them investigating everything and screwing things up before we even have the estate through probate. We specifically hired a lawyer and went through this convoluted process to make sure everything was on the up and up. But she really made me feel like I was doing something wrong. And that made me panic, which probably made me look even more guilty of something. So I just canceled everything and left.

After a few hours in a crowded government office, I decided to head to a different crowded government office.

I know I didn't need it until 2025, but I decided to go ahead and get my Real ID thingie before my first flight. I was kind of hoping they'd retake my picture because my current driver's license is... well...

And I'm so glad they took my big terrible picture and made it into a smaller, more terrible picture.

People complain about the DMV, but the one near me runs like a machine. It was filled with people and I still only had a 10 minute wait time.

I'm starting to wonder if all of those 80s comedians who were all, "What's the deal with the DMV?" were exaggerating.

Good stuff, Jerry.

I head up to the counter and ask for a Real ID. She asks for two pieces of mail and my birth certificate.

And this disappointed me a little bit.

I did my research. I went to the Real ID website and used their interactive guide to figure out exactly which documents I would need. They gave me this entire checklist and I printed it out and went through all my records and mail trying to find everything.

I had to wait a week for my internet bill to come because it's the only thing I forgot to change to paperless. This took a lot of effort and I was ready to be validated for being so prepared.

And she asks for two pieces of mail.

Any mail.

So I was off to get new tires.

Driving around on 8 year old bald tires was giving me anxiety. I didn't have the money for new tires, but I remember the guy saying they had financing. Recently several of my past debts went past the statute of limitations, and so my credit score lifted itself out of the pits of "poor" and into the realm of "fair." So I decided to take a chance and apply for a Discount Tire credit card. It's a 6 month payment plan with no interest, so that didn't feel as predatory as all the credit card offers I get in the mail with 8000% interest.

We started going through the approval process and I was answering all of the questions and then I saw the name of the bank offering the credit. It was the same bank that tried to sue me and also the bank that can longer collect due to the statute. I was worried they put me on some sort of list and would deny me. But, to my surprise, they approved me instantly. And wouldn't you know it, they gave me almost exactly the amount needed for a new set of tires.

I'm hoping we'll be doing another auction of the house stuff soon, so I plan to pay off the card and then cancel it, but this was the only solution I could come up with to drive safely until then.

I was having a weird day where photos of crusty rich wide dudes followed me everywhere I went. Here is my good ol' boy governor at the entrance to social services.

And at the tire place, I noticed this fella...

Why does every rich CEO think they are a font of wisdom capable of creating compelling quotes?

Does he think no one has ever said "work hard" and "have fun"? And after he said this was he like...

"That's gold, put that in *every* store."

"Oh, and use that picture of me where it looks like a handsome gal just grabbed my undercarriage."

He probably thinks, "Well, no one has put these specific generic platitudes together into a single mega-platitude. I am a genius."

"Be honest, work hard, have fun, be grateful, pay it forward" sounds like he had a bunch of motivational posters on his wall and started reading them all at once.

Like, every line could have a picture of an eagle above it.

In any case, the guy at the tire store, Dakota, was really nice. He made the experience very low anxiety. And he really liked my Thor's Hammer keychain with built in fidget spinner.

He went around showing it to all his coworkers. "Look, it even spins!" And they were like, "Dude, where did you get that??" And I was like, "Amazon." Now I'm just imagining 10 dudes at a tire store all fidgeting their hammers.

As nice as he was, Dakota was still a salesman and had a job to do. He gave me two tire options and tried to upsell me. The cheapest tires had a "1" rating for winter. He said they get "super hard" in the cold... I tried not to giggle. But I explained I drive about twice a month and mostly to the grocery store. If it is a bad winter day, I'll just wait or get delivery. He understood and set me up with the cheaper tires.

He then checked out my car and noticed my tire pressure sensors were dying. I keep getting a warning light on my dash. Apparently they all have tiny batteries in them that die after 7 years. And you can't just replace the batteries so you have to install brand new sensors.

And this is where my social anxiety got me into trouble.

I don't actually need these sensors. They are usually inaccurate. I prefer to test my tires with an actual gauge. But I got so caught up in his sales pitch that I agreed to replace them... at $60 each. For that I could have gotten the fancier tires. I really don't care if an orange light shows up on my dash. And I looked up the price online and a pack of 4 is $30. Though that is without installation.

But still... I wasn't thinking and he was so nice that I was just like, "I want to please Dakota. Saying no might make Dakota sad." Dakota's job is selling me but that doesn't mean I have to buy anything. He would live if I had said "no thanks."

To make my blunder more blunderous, when they finished the tires he asked for my key fob. And it decided that was the time for the battery to die. And in order to reset the system for the new tire pressure sensors, you have to press two buttons on the fob for 7 seconds. Thankfully I had a spare fob at home, but if I want my fancy new $240 sensors to work, I have to return to Dakota and have him initialize them.

I really hope these are the Cadillac of sensors.

Or, like, the ones they use on Cadillacs?

They better be accurate, is what I'm saying.

I do feel safer with new tires. So I am glad I did that. And I gave them a good obligatory kick and felt the tread. They seem nice enough even if they get boners in the winter. It's crazy how bald my other tires were in comparison. Like, I can fit half my finger down into the tread on the new ones—which did not get them super hard.

The way I drive, I probably won't wear them down. They'll probably start to rot before I do.

Before I do, meaning before I wear them down.

Not before I rot.

I am not in a rotting competition with my tires.

I was then off to Sam's. I decided all of my hard work accomplishing 2 out of 3 goals deserved some sushi. So I grabbed some California Rolls and headed home. On my way out, a Hummer and a Porsche nearly collided in the parking lot. And they sort of got stuck facing each other. One of them needed to back up and they both signaled at each other like "You back up, I'm not backing up." And it was just this weird standoff between the two douchiest looking cars you could imagine.

I mean, you have to be a douche to drive a Hummer.

I still remember the mystery Hummer dialysis patient from when my dad was going 3 time per week. We could never figure out who owned the Hummer, but we knew it was not the underpaid nurses and techs. So it had to be one of the patients. And none of them seemed the type. We never solved that mystery.

That hummer started off a delightful safety yellow. (Elon would cry.)

They decided this wasn't extra enough... so they did this...

Katrina and I could never decide... are these cow spots or the world's least effective camoflauge?

There was another patient who drove this old beater...

And I loved seeing this car because we had the same one when I was a little kid. I'm afraid the aesthetics of the 1980s Caprice Classic did not stand the test of time, but it had great sentimental appeal for me.

But this maroon beast that squeaked and sputtered its way from here to there belonged to a very sweet older gentleman. Sometimes he and my dad would be dialysis buddies—sitting next to each other in the recliners. And the worst thing about dialysis was the boredom. All you have to do is watch broadcast TV with 4 channels.

All of the TVs require headphones. They give you your own set of super cheap headphones in the dialysis welcome bag. They were very uncomfortable so I ordered my dad better ones with cushioned ear cups.

His dialysis buddy noticed them and thought they looked nice. And then he revealed that his free headphones broke and he didn't know how to get new ones. He had been watching TV with no sound for weeks. So, I bought another pair with the soft ear cups and my dad gave them to his friend. And it just made me happy imagining the two of them watching The Price is Right in matching headphones.

I do have to make fun of this sweet old man a little bit. When I walked passed his car I noticed he implemented the world's most effective anti-theft device ever created.

That's right... The Club™.

If someone decides they have to have a 40 year old car with an engine that sounds like a dying hyena and a hubcap missing... they are out of luck.

But hey, you gotta protect what is important to you. And if I needed a getaway car and my choices were between his beater and the Cow Hummer, I'd take his ride for sure.

Well, I'd try... and then get arrested because The Club™ is undefeatable.

Do NOT look that up on YouTube. It's 100% true. (And the Lock Picking Lawyer doesn't count due to him being able to break into Fort Knox with a paperclip and then doing it again to make sure it isn't a fluke.)

The dialysis center is in the same complex as my local Tolerable Schnucks and I still see that maroon boat of a car every once in a while. I always smile whenever it is there because it lets me know he is hanging in there and hopefully still has sound for his TV.

Wow, I went off on a mega-tangent.

I didn't even finish talking about my day. Where was I? Oh, the douche standoff finally ended. The Porsche Douche capitulated and backed up. Probably due to the fact the Hummer Douche has 0 visibility behind him.

When I got home I started devouring my sushi. I finally heard back from my lawyer. He submitted the last of the evidence for my appeal. And I was finally able to confirm he got the records of my ECT treatments from 20 years ago. I worked so hard to get those. At first, they forgot to send all records before 2011. I had to call back and figure that out. They shipped them and they didn't arrive until a week before we had to file. Everything was so last minute and my anxiety has been... palpable. It felt like when I did my science fair project on Sunday night.

He's hoping to get a decision at the beginning of next year. He warned me that these appeals are usually rejected. And that the most effective method of approval was a hearing in front of an administrative law judge. But that could be delayed by up to a year. So I might need to figure out how to survive until 2025. As long as my brother does what he is legally required to do, I should be okay. But counting on that also gives me palpable anxiety.

And that was my day.

Every time I go out is always an adventure.

But remember...

BE NICE. EAT YOUR VEGGIES. PET CUTE DOGS. DREAM BIG. KEEP YOUR TIRES WARM... FOR REASONS. 5 LIFE LESSONS -Froggie, Mildly Famous Internet Person

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 19

This brings the total word count for arc 2 over 31k words. But it also brings us nearly to the end of the arc! There'll likely only be one more part after this which I hope to have out next week (but my first nephew is going to be born any day now, so no promises).

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Find Arc 1 Here

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground. People immediately began panicking.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.” Bart gave them the bag that held their uniforms and rushed towards Danny.

Cassie and Tim joined the fleeing crowds, but slipped down the hall rather than outside in search of somewhere to change. Unfortunately, the first bathroom they passed had a camera pointing at the door. But a short way down, they found a janitor’s closet that didn’t.

“Not glamorous, I’m afraid,” said Tim.

Cassie laughed. “We’ve used worse.”

“True enough.”

Bart kept texting updates to Tim’s relief.

Imp: They’re in the basement Imp: Walker is confirmed possessing the mayor Imp: SB with me

As soon as the messages came through, Tim was hacking into city records to find the blue prints for the building.

“Come on, Rob,” said Cassie. “We need to get going.”

“Just finding the best way to the basement!” said Tim. A few more clicks and he had it. “Got it, let’s go.”

“Fucking finally.” Cassie cracked the door open and peered outside before throwing it open.

“Go right!” called Tim.

He overtook her and led her to a door. It was the matter of seconds to pick the lock and, rather than wait for him, Cassie just picked him up and flew him down the flight of stairs.

They burst out into what was clearly a service area. Ahead, they could hear the sounds of fighting. Cassie continued to fly them forward when they ran into Superboy.

“Superboy!” called Tim.

One of Danny’s classmates, Paulina, came running around the corner and Conner held up a blaster. “Stay back!” he called.

She screeched and held her hands up. Behind her came Dash, face contorted into a growl. The girl looked between Conner and Dash and screamed again.

“Kon!” called Tim, “Focus on Dash. I don’t think she’s overshadowed!”

Cassie set him down next to Conner and shouted, “I’m going to look for Phantom and Impulse!”

Conner shot at Dash and Tim assembled his Fenton Rod. To Paulina, he said, “Hey, sorry about that. We thought you might still be overshadowed. I’m Robin and we can get you out of here.”

“Don’t get near me!” she yelled at him. “Dash! Are you okay?”

The ghost had been expelled from him and he was sitting on the ground rubbing his head. “Paulina? Where are we?”

Tim pulled out a thermos and sucked in the ghost. “You’re in the basement of the City Hall building. Stairs are that way—” he pointed “—go up them and take a left.”

Paulina rushed to Dash’s side and pulled him up. With one last glare at Tim and Conner, she led him towards the stairs.

Tim let her go without arguing.

Instead, Tim and Conner ran towards the sound of fighting, only to see Maddie crouched behind some pipes with a bazooka pointed right at Danny.

With a curse, Conner flew towards her, yanking the weapon out of her hands. Tim was just a few paces behind him, and when Maddie drew another weapon poised to attack Conner, Tim used his staff to knock it from her hand.

“So you have been brainwashed by the ghosts,” she spat the last word. “Well I won’t let you win.” She kicked at his head and Tim ducked, using the motion to attempt to swipe at her other leg with his staff.

But she jumped over the attack and Tim had to roll out of the way of her downward kick.

“You’re quite good,” he commented.

“I’m a ninth degree black belt,” she said as she used the distance she’d gained to pull out a tube of lipstick. With a twist, she shot a laser at him.

“Creative, too, I see.”

Tim glanced over at the others to see Wulf had reappeared and was helping them. Unfortunately, though, Maddie was good enough that he had to keep most of his focus on her. She shot another laser and Tim used his staff to vault over it and close the distance between them.

“Look,” he said, “You don’t understand. Phantom is trying to stop the invasion.”

“He’s lying to you. All ghosts only want to hurt humans.”

Tim swung his staff and Maddie twisted out of the way. He still managed to graze her side and she let out a grunt of pain. He shifted his position so he could see his friends more clearly.

Only to watch the Mayor grab hold of Danny and fly him up through the ceiling. Two ectoblasts hit the area just after they disappeared. Wulf followed them through the ceiling and Bart ran off at the same time.

He was distracted enough that Maddie managed to kick him hard on the side. Tim let out a grunt of pain and tried to catch his breath. Before she could land a second attack, Conner was there restraining her.

“Thanks,” said Tim.

“Anytime. Sorry I wasn’t able to help sooner.”

Tim waved the apology off as he grabbed some zip-ties from his utility belt. “We’re both trying to help the people of Amity,” he told Maddie as he retrained her ankles and wrists.

“If you’re working with the ghosts, you’re only going to hurt them.”

Conner didn’t try to hold back his snort. “If you could see past your own prejudices, you’d see how fucking wrong you are. Especially about Phantom.”

“Superboy, take this”—Tim handed over a thermos—“go see if you can help Phantom. Wondergirl and I will make sure no one else’s hiding down here.”

They had barely started their search when Danny sunk back down into the basement with Bart and Conner in tow. Wulf followed them.

The sight of them had Maddie cursing up a storm again and Phantom sighed. “Ma’am, everyone is fine. I made sure of it. Here, I’ll take you upstairs where Da— uh, Jack is and you’ll see.”

“Phantom,” started Tim, but he had no idea what else to say. He just knew he didn’t want Danny anywhere near his parents while in his ghost form.

But Danny waved him off, picked up his mom, and flew them up through the ceiling again. Less than a minute later, he was back down.

“You know, she’d ground me for using even half of those words,” he said with a smile. No one laughed and Danny sighed. “So today was a disaster.”

“What did Walker do?” asked Tim.

Danny buried his face in his hands and groaned.

Bart ended up being the one to explain. “He held Danny to him and pretended Danny was kidnapping him in front of all the people outside City Hall.”

Tim closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Shit,” he breathed out. “Disaster is right.”

Danny let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “At least Paulina now thinks I’m a good guy.”

“She does?” asked Conner. “She ran from Rob and I.”

Danny squared his shoulders and imitated slicking his hair back. “Guess it’s just my natural charisma.”

Tim laughed, but it was short lived. “I seem to have made things worse for you.”

Danny bumped their shoulders. “And I don’t doubt it would’ve been just as bad, if not worse, without you. Thanks for trying.”

“We shouldn’t linger here,” said Bart. “What if Maddie comes back?”

Danny sighed and pulled out his phone. “My sister will be looking for me, I’m sure. Let’s reconvene at the park in, like, an hour?”

“We’ll bring food!” offered Bart.

Tim pulled Danny into a hug. “See you then. We’ll figure this out.”

Danny just sighed. “I hope so.”

-----

Next

And that's the end of the action! Hope you enjoyed. Once this arc is finished, I'll probably take a hiatus to get this fixed up, Arc 1 of Ghost!Robin fixed up, and the Bad Reveal AU finished. I want all of those finished and up on AO3 before Christmas if I can manage it.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[commsroom]

hi! I want to make a patch for my jacket with the names of all the crew members of the first hephaestus station, and I kinda want to sort of mimic their handwriting, so do you have any headcanons for what their handwriting is like? (not only them but any of the other characters if you want— I love character's handwriting headcanons haha)

oh, that's a fun project!! i'd love to see it when you're done. and an interesting question; i cannot say i've ever thought about lovelace's crew's handwriting before, haha. you probably know more about handwriting styles than i do, but here are my ideas:

lovelace: generally legible, but not concerned about aesthetics. maybe a little slanted. mix of printing + cursive with no particular logic, just depends on her mood. has a semi-consistent signature, maybe with a bit of a flourish on the L that she thinks is fun.

lambert: even printing with frightening consistency; might as well be typed out. the only real variance in his writing is that you can tell how frustrated he is by the intensity of the lettering; he starts really gripping the pen when he gets mad. signs his initials and then writes his full name out underneath it.

selberg / hilbert: unreadable. barely even words. his written notes are indecipherable to anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't think anyone else should be reading them anyway. has one of those quick scrawl Doctor Signatures that doesn't look like his name at all. ... any of his names.

rhea: i hate to just assign her Digital Typeface, but all we really know about her is that she's professional and takes her job seriously. she gives me the sense that she'd prefer to type than write by hand, even if it was a viable option, but her handwriting would be very neat.

fisher: doesn't write much if he can help it, mostly fills out forms in big block all caps with whatever abbreviations he can get away with. definitely readable, but not exactly neat or even.

fourier: ... well. her diaries are proof she spent a lot of time writing by hand, and i would guess that's a lifelong thing for her. maybe it's just her appreciation for jane austen and similar writers, but she strikes me as the kind of person who would've gotten very, very into writing cursive. there's kind of a romantic, old-fashioned flair to even her casual note taking. definitely practiced a signature.

hui: complete opposite. he was supposed to practice, but was much more interested in other things, and his handwriting is notoriously kind of a mess. thinks much faster than he writes, and so will skip over words sometimes, etc. he also practiced a signature, but he wanted it to be abstract. hui and fourier definitely teased each other over their respective note-taking styles, especially given how often they were reading each other's notes.

i like to think maybe hui dictated his letters to his family to fourier, and she was the one who actually wrote them down - as a way to keep her close, and to give her some way that she could help him, near the end.

this is already long, but, briefly: the other three characters i have to talk about...

minkowski: incredibly neat handwriting, as a result of lots and lots of practice "standardizing" her penmanship as a child. keeps white-out on hand just in case. signs her full name in cursive.

hera: fairly neat, if sometimes shaky, and it bothers her if it looks too uniform; intentionally incorporates writing quirks that catch her eye; also a mix of printing + cursive in whatever way she thinks flows best.

eiffel: usually not unreadable, but definitely not neat. if he makes a mistake, he'll write over it to fix it and make it worse to the point it's illegible and then just leave it like that. has difficulty with writing in straight lines or even-sized lettering; it's all over the place. you know he's a doodler.

we do, in fact, have writing samples for him, courtesy of the dssppm:

... and he crosses his z's. i think that's cute.

[oh-goddess-of-chaos]

⠀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 – 𝐣. 𝐝. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (navi. & masterlist. & tag. )

「 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 」 yandere!jason dean 𝒙 female!reader

「 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 」 being the new girl at a school can be difficult, especially during the middle of the year and in a place with a rigid social structure such as westerburg high, but things can only seem to worsen when you start feeling as though you're being watched.

「 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 」 general themes from heathers the movie such as bullying, mentions of suicide, murder (c'mon, it's a heathers fic, what did u expect?), usage of guns, kissing, stalking, attempted rape (kurt n' ram), swearing , usage of drugs such as cigarettes, unconsensual kissing (doesn't get further than that in this), very slight insinuations to sex (spoken), the whole shebang.

「 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 」 4.5k

「 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .⁺ ˖ ⌒ (slight spoilers) i wanted to make the reader decently perceptive and sarcastic this one, but nearing the end i definitely made her rationality kinda disappear since that's what fear can do to a person. jd is more based off movie jd, and so is veronica.

Joining a new school midway through the school year was, to say the least, unideal.

You and your parents had just gotten the wonderful opportunity to move to the quaint town of Sherwood, Ohio, somewhere you all were essentially forced to go since your father had been promoted by his job and your family was strapped for cash. And, sure, your house was bigger and nicer than your last, but you'd had to leave all your friends you'd been with since your childhood, which was difficult.

To add to all of that, the people were unfriendly and rude, and the weather was tolerable at best. Though your old home wasn't perfect by any means, it was most certainly better than where you were living now.

And now, here you were, standing before your new high school, knowing perfectly nothing about it or what to expect yet still expecting it to be one of the worst schools you've gone to. The odd stares your fellow students were shooting you seemed to be indicative of that.

Oh, good grief.

You sighed as you entered, only to immediately crinkle your nose in disgust as you were hit with the pleasant aroma of sweaty jocks and what you could only guess were something akin to rotting bodies. Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you were almost hit by what you guessed were two football players dashing down the hallways.

This was going to be a long rest of the year.

You were quick to shove past the students to get to the front office, keen on getting your class schedule and getting to your class as early as you could. You'd only just gotten here and yet already you wanted to go home, though you supposed that that was how high school normally operated. It was never something anyone particularly enjoyed. Most people just managed to tolerate it enough to attend the next day.

"Hello, I'm looking to get my schedule?" You said once you'd reached your destination, crossing your arms as you stared at the woman at the front desk. Focused upon her own work, she offered you no response. You pursed your lips.

"Excuse me?" You spoke, louder this time, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

Apparently you weren't the only one unhappy to be at Westerburg high today, as the woman, seemingly irked, slowly craned her head to face you. "Yes?"

She seemed an unpleasant sort of woman, a frown etched permanently upon her wrinkled face. You wondered what the other teachers must look like, and if they resembled her by any means.

"This is my first day here. I need my class schedule."

"Name?"

"Y/n L/n."

The woman nodded and typed something into her computer. She then pointed to the printer. "Wait over there. Your class schedule is printing right now. Once it's finished, just go to your first class. The class numbers are listed on the right side."

"Well, is anyone going the help me find my way around?"

Your question was only met with silence. "Fine, I'll find it on my own. After all, why would I ever need the help of a teacher, anyway? It's not like I'm new to this school or anything." You grumbled before grabbing your schedule and exiting.

Luckily, navigating the school was a relatively simple task. The numbers on every door and the maps plastered on the walls definitely helped, and you were able to find your history class before the bell rang.

"Here's your textbook, Ms. L/n." The teacher said to you the moment you told her your name. Silently, you nodded, deciding to take a seat somewhere in the middle of the classroom as you waited for class to begin.

Something seemed off, though, as the lecture began and you jotted down nearly everything you heard. You could sense eyes boring into the back of your skull, like daggers piercing through your mind, and it inhibited your focus. You could hardly pay any attention to the teacher as she went on and on about some war you didn't even know the name of. And so, discreetly enough, you 'grabbed' something from you bag, staring over your shoulder briefly in an attempt to see if anyone really was watching you.

And, as it seemed, someone was. You managed to spot them - or him, to be more specific. Uncannily dark eyes stared back at you, blank and hollow. It made your stomach sink. Quickly, then, you retrieved an object from your school bag and continued with your notes to the best of your abilities. Unfortunately, though, you couldn't get that kid's sharp gaze out of your mind. Something about it - something about him - was off, though you couldn't quite place what it was. And, sure, from what you could see he dressed somewhat oddly - a dark trench coat adorning his shoulders, covering his already black pants and shirt - but it was more than just the way he was dressed. You knew it.

You gave up on the matter minutes after you were done with US History. As much as you were curious at the time, you could care less if some creep was watching you. It wasn't like you didn't have your fair share of those back at your old school - you just supposed that they didn't seem so outward about it. After all, you'd stared at that kid - caught him right in the act, but he didn't look away, didn't flinch, just kept staring. Looking back on it, you were convinced that you'd caught the glimpse of some sort of smile. But, as you'd mentioned, what was done was done. You'd only have to deal with him for 45 minutes every day for the rest for the year, at worst.

Sighing, you dropped your bag beside you as you sat down on one of the sticky cafeteria benches, secluded from everyone else. Although you knew you could've tried to make friends during your classes, you were aware of the truth about social politics in high school: halfway through the year, friendships were already sealed airtight and people were much less open to saying 'hi' to a new face, so you didn't even bother. And, sure, the seating was horrible, but you weren't about to make a fool of yourself, especially on your first day.

The food at Westerburg High was - albeit surprisingly - quite alright, and you found yourself somewhat enjoying it. Disregarding the horrible smell and the violently loud chatter, you supposed the cafeteria and lunch as a whole was okay.

That was, at least, until you caught sight of that kid who'd been staring at you in history. You hadn't even noticed he was there at first, but there he was, halfway across the cafeteria, staring blatantly right at you. This time, though, he was just smiling - smirking, even, and it unnerved you.

What is wrong with this guy?

The rest of the week went by like this. On your way to class, you'd always see him in the halls, eyes locking with yours as you passed him. Or getting your books from your locker - he'd always be there, eyes glued to your form. He wasn't even doing anything, was simply fixated on you. It made you shiver, the looks he gave you at first.

Now, however, it was almost expected. You'd anticipate dark eyes boring into your skull and the fumes of cigars to follow you in class, or truly just anywhere around school, just as you would expect your shadow to follow you in the sunlight. And, as annoying as it was the every first day, now it was eerie. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know you were being watched, but when you did, you'd surely freeze out of both paranoia and fear. While, yes, you'd expected this year of high school to be your worst yet, never had you expected for it to be to such an extent.

Your fear later festered when he pulled a blank on two jocks in the cafeteria. Although you knew blanks couldn't truly hurt them, you shuddered to think what he'd do if he really wanted to cause some damage.

Things got worse still when the kid started dating the infamous Veronica Sawyer, not quite a Heather but not quite anything else either. Gossip around the school grew mad about the unconventional couple, and you soon learned the name of the kid who never did seem to leave you alone: Jason Dean, or 'J. D.' as everyone knew him.

Now, whenever you'd see J. D., he'd always be accompanied by his girlfriend, Veronica. He never did stop staring, though, resulting in numerous glares coming from Veronica's way.

So much for being tolerated by the popular crowd.

School had then became a living hell for you, because if one Heather didn't like you, none of them did, making life going unnoticed near impossible. Now, no matter where you were, someone was either glaring or gazing at you, their intentions vague and unclear.

Things then got particularly bad when Heather Chandler became a sort of enemy of yours. You weren't sure what you did to irk specifically her, but, whatever it was that you did, she most certainly hated you, more so than Veronica, even. Not a day went by without a rude confrontation by her, and you could name several instances when she'd embarrassed you in front of the school.

But then, one day, she was gone.

Suicide. At least, that's what they said it was, but you knew too many people hated that bitch for it to be so. All it would take was a teenager driven insane enough by her to be driven to such a point, and considering the state of Westerburg high, you didn't doubt for a moment that the queen bee of the school essentially prompted her own death.

So, yeah. You knew her suicide was faked. Not that you were going to report it to the cops - you weren't planning on stirring up more drama - but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by such a thing. And, besides, though you'd never admit it aloud, you were glad she was dead, in an odd way. Now you had at least one less person to make your life at this sorry school miserable.

So, life was okay for a while. People got too busy about mourning Heather's death to notice a nobody like you. Other than that creep J. D. and his jealous girlfriend stalking the halls, life was tolerable.

But when you're at the top, the only way you can go is down. And that's where you went. Down. All the way to rock bottom.

You didn't know how to put it in lighter terms, so here it was: You were almost raped. By Kurt and Ram, to be more exact.

Apparently, J. D. wasn't the only one who had an eye on you, and with all your attention focused on him (since you were so damn paranoid) you'd failed to notice the two jocks that also seemed to have been interested by you.

It was late at night. You were walking home from some house you'd babysat at as a favor, and two guys started following you. You didn't think much of it at first - just tried to forget about it and cool your nerves, but then they started to get faster, and faster, and you did too, until suddenly you were running, and then, almost abruptly, the two jocks had grabbed your arms and startled forcing you elsewhere. You screamed and fought, but no one was around to hear you.

You could only imagine the other 'nobodies' they must have done this to.

You remembered vividly your horror as the two piled themselves on top of you, eager to rip your clothes off. But, just as they were about to do so, a gun shot rang out, and then another. Frozen in terror, you didn't even move as you felt the boys' bodies go limp over you. You were only able to move when you felt a hand grab onto your own and force you up and get you back on your feet.

"Thank you," you barely managed to sputter out once the initial shock wore off.

"Go," is all the figure replied. A man, you presumed. You couldn't see his face, though, covered by the dark lighting. And so, dazed and confused, you obliged, not thinking twice about the words spoken to you.

The next day, though, was when things truly got out of hand.

Kurt and Ram, supposedly, had died in some gay love pact, wherein they killed each other. Hearing the news over the TV your parents played, you felt sick to your stomach. But, there they lied on the screen, a bag of supposed 'homosexual artifacts' and a suicide note to tie it all together.

And the whole town ate the story up.

You didn't go to school for about the next week or so. You told your parents that you were sick, and even though they knew you weren't, they still called in sick for you, able to detect that you weren't exactly feeling well mentally.

The week of repose was good, too. You were able to gather yourself up, not to the point where you didn't fear what could have happen had your savior not came to the rescue, but to the point where you could suppose that you were grateful that you wouldn't have to answer any questions from the police.

But now, at least for now, you knew you'd be safe.

* * *

You let out a soft sigh as you landed on your bed, curling into your warm sheets as a way of seeking comfort. At least you were safe and secure at home, you supposed, your parents only a relatively quiet yell away and your windows locked for good measure. If school was your hell, then you would consider home your heaven, away from the Heathers, away from J. D., away from everyone.

Turning off your light, you sank into your pillow in a desperate sort of way, clinging to it as if it were your lifeline. You'd hardly been getting sufficient sleep within the past weeks, so it didn't take long for you to fall into oblivion, the abyss of sleep consuming you whole in minutes.

So deeply unaware of your surrounding now, you didn't even hear quiet footsteps entering your bedroom.

J. D. was, to say the least, unsure what made him drawn to you in the first place. Maybe it was your calm and uncaring demeanor, or maybe it was the way you seemed to pick up on things through simple observation so easily, similarly to him. Whatever it was, he most certainly found you interesting. And, somehow, he could simply tell that there was something different about you - something like him that he saw in you, and it intrigued him to no end.

No matter how paranoid you were, you were never completely aware of J. D.'s reach in your life. When he'd watch you when you were at home, he'd remain particularly clever, knowing that if he was caught there was a high chance that he'd get into some really deep shit. Staring at a girl in school every day was one thing, but following her home? That was much more serious, and required a much less conspicuous plan.

But, alas, his plan paid off, and J. D. smiled knowingly as he stared at your vulnerable figure, taken over by a much needed sleep. You simply looked so perfectly innocent like that, something he couldn't wait to ruin once he had the chance.

J. D. laughed euphorically as he continued to just stare at you, unsure if he still had his wits about him but uncaring at the very same time. Perhaps all the cigars he had been smoking really were getting to him. But he knew what he needed to do before he brought you with him. So, quietly, resisting the urge to kiss your pristine lips, J. D. raced out of your bedroom, your door that was previously shut left open behind him.

Unfortunately for him, however, he'd forgotten that you were often a light sleeper that woke up at different intervals in the night, so when a particularly cool gust of wind came in through your open window, you were startled awake.

"What the fuck?" You muttered under your breath as you drowsily peeled your eyes open, squinting them as you stood up to close the window, before pausing and wondering how on earth your window had opened. After all, your parents never came into your room late at night as far as you were concerned, and you had locked your window when you'd fallen asleep, so how could it have opened?

It was at that very moment, too, that the faint smell of smoke wafted through the room, and you froze.

Sure, you knew you were paranoid, and that maybe fear had gotten the better of you, but you also knew that a potentially dangerous kid had been staring at you ever since you got to school and that it would be idiotic for you to assume that he had no malicious intentions.

Your stomach then tightened up once you noticed your open bedroom door. So, yes. It was possible that maybe your assumptions were idiotic, but you'd be a fool to not go with your gut when the most it'd cost you was some short-lived embarrassment, especially considering what could have happened with Kurt and Ram. So, quietly, you exited your bedroom, looking down the hallways of the upstairs floor as to reassure that the coast was clear.

It was.

More silently than you've ever done so before, then, you tip-toed to your parents bedroom, hoping to either alert them of an intruder or ask them what the were doing. But, just as you were about to open their door, footsteps were heard on the other side - not your mother's quiet, considerate ones, nor your father's loud, heavy ones, but a different kind.

Fuck.

As fast as you could, you dashed into the nearest room, leaving the door only just barely open as to not allow it to make any sound. From your parent's room exited a dark silhouette, wearing what you guessed was a trench coat and with only the burning edge of a cigarette as a light source plucked between two fingers.

You were right. You were fucking right. No other than Jason Dean was in your house, and right now, he was heading right for your bedroom, most likely intending to kill.

You needed to think fast.

My parents - right, my parents. They keep a gun in their bedroom.

You were shaking. Yes, your parents showed you were they kept the gun in the case of an emergency, but you'd never been taught how to use it.

As quietly as you could, you dashed over to your parents bedroom, closing the door behind you. And, even though you knew you didn't have the time, you took a moment to catch your breath. God, you couldn't breathe. And neither could your parents, as it seemed, when you looked over at their limp corpses sprawled in the bed. Slowly, you retracted the covers from their bodies, only to find a wet pool of blood that lay beneath them and their slit throats.

They were dead. J. D. had fucking killed your parents. You felt your knees buckle underneath you as you caressed your mother's lifeless face, her eyes never to once again open.

"Mom..." You whimpered, not caring if her blood stained your fingers. But then, you paused, realizing that, if you didn't speed up, you could be next.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I really need to find a weapon or a way out of here. I only have so much time before he finds me.

You suppressed a scream as you then scoured their bedroom in search of the gun safe, not keen on wasting any more time, but to your dismay, you couldn't find it.

They must have moved it from last year - fuck! - what else could they have?

Your eyes then landed on your father's esteemed baseball bat. You'd remember him talking about it, the pride radiating from him as he explained how it was the first bat he used to hit a home run with in high school.

Well, sorry dad.

Picking up what was now a weapon and placing it in such a way that would allow you to swing at a moment's notice, you slowly sauntered out of your parent's bedroom and into the hallway.

Your blood ran colder and colder as you approached your bedroom door, until, finally, you did, and raised the baseball bat even higher as to deliver the hardest blow on the boy that stood before you.

"You know, it would have probably been better if you'd stayed hiding," you then heard J. D. speak, turning around and raising an eyebrow at the bat in you hands. "You know, that isn't going to do much against a gun."

Time seemed to stop, and all you could stare at was the gun that sat loosely in J. D.'s hand. He was going to fucking kill you.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to use it on you," he then reassured coyly, as if reading your mind. "It's just a necessary... precaution. Now, why don't place the bat down so we can talk."

"I could scream."

J. D. seemed to smile at this and clicked his tongue, as if scolding you. "Now, would you really like to have someone else's blood on your hands like that? Just because I'm not going to shoot you doesn't mean I won't shoot anyone else. It'd be a shame if anyone had to die because of you."

Silence.

"Good, now... place the bat down."

Nodding, you complied, slowly placing your only means of defence on the ground.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, trying to calm your racing heart down. Though you doubted it, you supposed that there was a chance that, if you could calm down enough, you could convince J. D. to leave you alive.

J. D. grinned. "Now, darling, why don't you come right here."

If you could've moved, you most certainly would've. After all, you'd seen that gun in J. D.'s hand. You knew what it could do. But you were frozen by fear, and no amount of rationality was going to move you.

"Now, this would all be, uh, a lot easier if you'd just come with me, because I'd hate to have to man-handle - " J. D.'s words cut short as he watched you, nearly stunned, as you bolted past him and towards the window. But he was quick to recoup his bearings, cocking the gun (for good measure) and grab onto your leg, successfully dragging you towards the ground. You grunted in pain upon your head slamming against the hardwood floor, the beginnings of a bruise already starting to appear.

Now only partially unconscious, it took you a long while to notice the tongue now prying apart your mouth and the chapped lips pressed against your own. You'd only really noticed when you realized that you couldn't breathe, and you let out a strangled groan as you tried to detach yourself from the figure above you, but to no avail. J. D. merely slid his tongue deeper down your throat, inhibiting you from screaming or making any other noise as he kissed you roughly.

You thrashed and flailed under his touch, but nothing was enough to free yourself from him. He was faster, stronger, and had the firearm in this situation. You stood no chance. So, with a heavy heart, you moved pliantly underneath J. D.'s touch, hoping he'd at least go a little easier on you at the very least.

And then, with bated breath, you observed as he stopped, and, hovering above you, took something out of his pocket. At first, fearing it was a gun, you began to once again fight against him, but then paused upon not recognizing the silhouette of the object in his hand.

"You know, as much as I'd like to continue this, I did come here for a reason." J. D. stared at you, no ounce of sympathy as he spoke his next words. "You know, it'd have been a hell of a lot easier if you'd just fucking stayed asleep."

Without so much as a moment to respond, a wet rag was forced upon your face. Confused at first, you lied still, before realizing what it must have been drenched it. You were now even more urgent in your fighting of J. D. (if that was even possible), punching and kicking him wherever you could. But he didn't budge, simply kept a firm grip on the rag.

"Shhh, it's fine, I won't hurt ya," he reassured, "Not unless I need to, of course."

But you didn't hear him, your consciousness already slipping as you'd only been half conscious before. You were trying to kick free, but already you were so exhausted, your adrenaline already beginning to ware off. Worse still, J. D.'s words of reassurance that you'd be fine and that everything will be alright were starting to mess with you.

You could hear him talking, but the words were muffled and blurred, and your body seemed to take everything in as if it were truth, because it was already relaxing under his cool touch. And it seemed that, the more fearful your mind grew, the more numb your body became, until, finally, you gave up your thrashing and your fighting, and sunk into J. D. harsh embrace willingly.

Upon your figure going limp, a devilish grin spread across J. D.'s face. Though he knew this was not how things were meant to occur, he was simply so happy - for he finally had you in his arms, where you belonged. And then, unable to help himself, he pressed a hungry kiss on your mouth, pleased to hear a muffled moan escape it as your tongue moved submissively under his own.

This was it! Finally - finally, after waiting for so long, you belonged to him. No more were the days when he'd have to watch you through your bedroom window, or the days where all he'd see of you were your paranoid eyes in the hallways, because, finally, here you were, in his arms, where you belonged!

Here you were at last, finally.

Finally, you were his and only his.

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