#he was stuck with unit. it might not have been his hobby but he had nothing better to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

septima-severa · 4 months

Text

Karyn Faro x OFC draft

I have had another brainfart with Thrawn, but this time, I'm trying to write it centered around Commodore Faro. Let's say that the plot it shit, but so far, I have had a bit of fun with that. Writing is only a hobby for me, and after so many years of inactivity, I am quite rusty. So, let's take it as another chance for practice. So far, I have landed my ass at a sixth chapter, and as I got stuck with it, I have returned to the beginning to refine the story as it's not in a publishable condition yet. So, here is an excerpt from the first chapter.

---

Karyn Faro was still in shock. His Lambda shuttle just disappeared. None of the witnesses present on the bridge at that moment could believe their eyes. Her own disbelief was mirrored on faces of many. But they couldn’t be paralysed by this. They had to retrieve him as soon as possible.

She had to snap out of it, and fast.

“Can we track them?”

“We have their vector, Commodore, but the sector is uncharted,” came from the navigation console. “Nothing in our database matches it.”

“We can,” the stranger stepped in.

Faro didn’t like her. In fact, all the bridge officers stole wary glances in her direction here and there. Could it be the disturbing appearance of theirs? She didn’t know. Yet the alien was currently aboard the Chimaera because Thrawn himself had demanded to contact the Pathfinder Guild, apparently an organisation providing guidance in poorly charted regions of Wild Space and beyond. But… whatever it takes to save the Grand Admiral, that was what resonated in her head. “My office, now,” she hissed, beckoning the figure to follow her to the aft bridge area.

The office door closed with a hiss, separating the two females from the rest of the crew present.

“What do you propose?” she didn’t bother hiding the edge of impatience from her voice.

“I can navigate your ship as close as possible to the presumed position of the shuttle. But the rest of the search and rescue might have to be executed incognito,” with the last word, she switched from Basic to Sy Bisti, apparently due to lack of proper vocabulary. So far, it seemed that the Guild had been dealing with many alien species, its members capable of communication in many languages – at least enough to deliver the requested information.

As far as the Commodore knew, the Pathfinder Guild was well known to the Chiss, them being its frequent clients. Since this specimen could also use Basic, she deduced that they were dealing also with humans from their galaxy, perhaps traders, albeit not as much as with other species. Still, her appearance remained disturbing. If she was to place a bet, she would say that she shared a part of her nature with her commander’s species. But her skin – what wasn’t covered by a black uniform with the shoulder patches she had never seen before – was striped. And her disturbing heterochromatic eyes…

“How so?”

“I presume that there is no Pathfinder on board the shuttle since all are accounted for in my unit and our next base is too far and in opposite direction. So, it must be a local. Can you please show me the vector?”

Faro obliged, projecting the data over her desk. She then watched the strange female come closer and place her device – he had called it questis – there to add her data that weren’t making much sense to her at first glance.

“It is patchy, as we generally avoid this area,” she pointed a blue finger somewhere. In the middle of the vector shown in yellow. “There is a rogue black hole further down, and without an experienced sky-walker, the route is inaccessible.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “There are three systems with potentially inhabitable planets in the path to be considered,” she marked those in red. “And we know that this one,” she pointed out the said solar system, “is currently under… war? No… Enemy’s hands.”

“Which enemy?”

“Grysk,” the Pathfinder hissed.

Great. As if it couldn’t get any more complicated. Chimaera had had encounters with those on multiple occasions already. And Karyn Faro was none too happy to look forward to another possible run-in with them, even though the chances were slim that these already knew what an Imperial Star Destroyer was capable of.

“It might get nasty,” the alien continued in Sy Bisti before switching back to Basic. Was she doing it perhaps on purpose? As if assuming that this conversation could be eavesdropped on? “But I can guide you there, no problem.”

“What do you need from us?”

“Access to your helm, naturally. But tell me, how familiar are you with the Pathfinders’ work, commander?”

“Not really.” To be honest, she hadn’t quite followed the Grand Admiral’s way of thinking on this mission. Originally, they had been investigating a Rebel cell activity that had eventually led them to this hellhole. Still, the reason behind the presence of a navigator evaded her.

“And how comfortable are you with the Sight? I think your Emperor calls it Force sensitivity.”

Even better, Faro thought. What the hell did she get herself into?

But the woman continued before she could object, switching to Sy Bisti. “The Guild is strictly neutral; we offer our services without taking sides. I must warn you that the region we are about to enter has only a few barely established hyperlanes. I saw in your hangar that you already encountered the Grysk disrupting device, and I can’t guarantee we won’t run into another one deployed there. In that case, we would have to continue in a shuttle. Notify your quartermaster that in that case, you will need undercover. You and whoever else you deem fit to join us on the rescue, that is. Our shuttle can accommodate four persons maximum.”

“Understood. When can we be underway?”

“Let me call off our ship and I’ll be ready shortly. Oh, and one more thing… We can run into the enemy quickly. This ship is quite large,” the navigator gestured around her to emphasize her words, “and might attract unwanted attention.”

Faro nodded and exited her office first, leaving the door open. She proceeded to issue commands to prepare the ship for the mission, and it seemed to lift the stricken mood of the crew.

“The Pathfinders’ ship is leaving, madam,” Commander Hammerly called from over the Lieutenant Lomar’s console as the remaining crewmember emerged from Faro’s office.

“Stage Two alert throughout the ship. Lieutenant Agral, step down from the helm, if you please,” Faro continued.

#star wars #fanfiction #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #karyn faro

2 notes · View notes

write-r-die · 3 years

Text

Prisoner - Part 17

March 1067, Norman Conquest of England

Masterlist

A/N: Drama!!

gif from demivampirew

For the first time in a long time, Thomasin felt safe.

Henry made her promise never to remove the pendant he gave her. It seemed terribly important to him, though Thomasin didn’t know why. Still, she agreed without question.

Henry never did shout at her. He didn’t like being angry, especially with someone he loved. Instead, he sat his wife down like a child and looked very deeply into her grey eyes while simply telling her she would never disobey him again, nor would she disagree with him in public. She was welcome to shout and scream and call him all sorts of names when they were alone together, but their situation was precarious. They had to present a united front so no one – just Lawrence, really – would think to pit them against each other.

Lawrence, though, seemed the same as ever. Maybe even scarier. He always had that awful grin on his face. He never got red; that’s what really worried both Henry and Tom. He was too calm, too self-assured. He planned out what he would do to them; now they were stuck in fear until he decided to act. It had only been a week since the wedding, and there was no telling how long Lawrence would wait. But he wasn’t a patient man.

Henry didn’t let Thomasin see his fear over Lawrence’s retribution. Since the wedding, she’d become all soft and willing. He thought she showed something akin to vulnerability. When they were alone, she would sit on his lap or press herself right against his side. They needed to be touching when they went to sleep, either with Henry spooning against her back or Thomasin lounging across his chest. She demanded his attention and affection. Henry obliged her, even going beyond. He’d kiss her in public when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t even mind.

He met her vulnerability with steady confidence. He’d sworn to look after her more times than he could count, and now that she was finally allowing it, he didn’t want to show any weakness. That was what husbands did for their wives – they remained strong and sure.

Henry asked a baron sailing back to Normandy to deliver the message to his family that he was wed; he was quite sure his mother would cry upon hearing the news.

“Should we send someone to tell your family?” he asked that night as he and Tom lay in the dark together. He was pressed tightly against Thomasin’s back. She used one of his arms as a pillow, and his free hand roamed over her body.

“I haven’t got a family,” Thomasin replied.

Henry nuzzled her rosy gold hair. “Yes, you do.” He kissed the back of her neck and sighed into her hair. “And you’ll never be rid of me.”

When the king finally summoned Henry, it wasn’t to chastise him. If he did mean to shout at Henry, it was low on his list of things to do. Henry found himself in something of a war council among other barons and knights of high praise.

“It is time to execute the Saxons,” William announced. “I’ve kept them alive for too long. It will embolden other rebels to attack if they believe I won’t kill them.”

“The rebels are all but gone,” a middle-aged baron said. “Even that young baron from the north has disappeared.” He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye; everyone knew he was referring to Hammond.

“Permanent imprisonment is not much better than death,” another put in.

“All the same,” said the king. “The surviving Saxon prisoners will be put to death by hanging this afternoon. I expect you all to bear witness.”

“What about our wives?” a knight asked. Henry was grateful someone other than him asked the question. “Should they attend?”

William shook his head. “Tis no sight for a woman’s eyes.” He took a deep breath before declaring, “It is warm enough now to travel. We will hunt down the other rebels. If we cannot capture or kill them, we will at least run them out of England and keep them in exile for the rest of their lives.”

The men started shuffling out, murmuring to each other about the Saxon threat. Henry lagged behind the crowd, too lost in his thoughts to keep a fast pace. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Lawrence sidled up beside him.

Lawrence made a sound like a sigh. “I do hope poor Tom won’t be too broken up over Cerdic’s execution.”

Henry felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. How did he find out about Thomasin’s relationship with Cerdic? How much did he know about it? What execution? Was that why the barons and knights were gathering?

But the true source of his fury was the fact that Lawrence had referred to his wife as Tom.

Lawrence looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Are you broken up, dear Henry?”

He turned his gaze to the other man, a savage look in his eyes. “You will never speak my wife’s name again. Do you understand me?”

Lawrence bowed his head in mock apology before moving along.

Henry paused in a nook in the corridor and ran his hand over his face. Damn.

Coming to England was like stepping in dog shit that one could never quite wipe away. Meeting Thomasin was like stepping in dog shit. One bad thing followed another like a cloying stink with that poor girl.

No, Henry realized. Thomasin meeting him when the troubles started.

***

Thomasin was grateful that Henry had been able to spend both his days and his nights with her. She knew it could not last forever, but she was sad all the same when he was called away, no doubt to discuss matters of war.

Now she would have to spend her days embroidering with other ladies or pursuing some other womanly hobby. She was never terribly good at that, though. At one point, her governess simply gave up trying to make Thomasin a proper lady. Her father let her have free reign of the estate so long as someone was always nearby and she returned to the keep by dark.

She imagined having a similar arrangement with Henry, but they first needed an estate of their own. Everyone assumed the king would give them the estate Thomasin grew up in, but she secretly hoped he would not. It would be haunted, at least for her, and she was sure she would never feel comfortable there. It wasn’t her home anymore. Just another conquered fortress.

The couple spoke a little of returning to Normandy so Tom could meet Henry’s family and there were some vague mentions of estates near his brothers that might be suitable for their needs, but they hadn’t had a real conversation about it. What they wanted didn’t matter; William would likely keep Henry in England to fight his endless war against Thomasin’s way of life. Maybe they would be dismissed in a few years when things were calmer.

She would have to figure out how to spend her days. Her only true friend at court was Elaine, but the healer was often busy during the day. Thomasin accompanied her on a meeting with an elderly baroness with a horrifying rash; she would never do so again.

She was returning from a brisk walk when she nearly crashed into her husband and his friends on their way out.

“Henry!” Thomasin bounced forward and grabbed onto his hand. She waited for him to kiss her while Charlie and Roger were pretending not to look. She knew something was wrong when he didn’t. “Are you well?”

Henry’s expression was as hard as it had been the day Thomasin tried to escape from him. She resisted the urge to step back. “Thomasin, go back to our rooms. Wait for me there.”

His clear agitation alarmed her; she spoke as calmly as she could. “Is something amiss?”

“Do as I say. I’ll be along soon.” He turned to Kal. “You go with her.”

Something must be truly wrong if Henry was willing to part with his shadow, even for an hour or two. Thomasin’s eyes flickered to Charlie for some hint of what was happening, but his expression was as stony as ever. Roger hadn’t stopped when Thomasin intercepted them so she could not look to him for clues.

She glanced at Henry one more time. He didn’t look all right. She wanted an explanation here and now, but she remembered her promise not to disobey him in public. Staying and demanding something from him would certainly count as disobedience. “Of course,” Thomasin said, forcing a mild tone of voice. She gave a shallow curtsey.

She was chattering to Kal as they walked up a tight staircase when she heard a ruckus outside. There were no windows in the stairwell, only thin slats from which archers inside the castle could shoot at enemy soldiers in case of an attack, but they would do.

Thomasin rocked up on her tiptoes to peer through one of them. There was a large cluster of men spread out across the field. They stood in clumps of three or four, talking among themselves as a handful of servants erected some makeshift structure she couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps if she had something to stand on, she would be able to see more clearly . . .

Kal made a grumbling sound.

“I don’t mean to ignore you, Kal,” Thomasin said. “I just want to see what’s going on.”

She never thought it unusual for one to speak to one’s pets, and Henry regularly held complex conversations with the bear, so she wasn’t embarrassed to talk to him in public as other women might be.

Thomasin pushed up a little further and caught a glimpse of fresh scaffolding, then of a handful of shackled men making their way over to it. The Saxon prisoners were finally being executed, then. Thomasin couldn’t blame Henry for not telling her. He was only trying to protect her.

She was about to turn away when she glimpsed a familiar silhouette and an even more familiar red beard. She squinted into the fading light as the hangman put a rope around the Saxon’s thick neck.

She hated that neck. She once joked to Justina that she’d like to strangle him, but his neck was as sturdy as a thick branch on a tree. She’d only tire herself out trying to kill him.

Cerdic.

Thomasin was so shocked and upset that she pushed away from the window too hard and fell backwards; Kal softened her fall somewhat.

For a moment she couldn’t move or even draw in a lungful of air. Kal was breathing in right in her face, but she didn’t care. She felt removed from somehow, as if she weren’t truly in her body.

Cerdic was a ridiculous oaf, but she’d known him all her life. She’d cared for him not as a lover or brother or even a friend, but in the way a woman was expected to care for her husband-to-be. And he was all that was left of her life before.

It was easier when she thought he was dead, that he’d died in the fray along with most of the other Saxon men. She’d grieved him in her own strange way and put his memory behind her, but now everything swelled up again and tightened her throat.

This was the last straw. She was strong but she wasn't made of ice. There was only so much someone could endure before they broke.

And Thomasin truly did break.

She ran to her rooms barely holding back tears. Her throat was sore with the effort of holding in sobs and her hands were shaking so hard that she almost couldn’t open the latch on the door to the antechamber.

She barely made it through the antechamber and into the bedroom before she fell apart. She slammed the bedroom door before Kal could follow and fell forward on her hands and knees into the rushes scattered on the floor; she couldn’t hold herself together a moment longer, not even long enough to reach the bed. She began to weep so hard that she could barely breathe. She made choked, ugly sobbing sounds she couldn’t control that shook her shoulders as snot and tears ran down her face.

Kal whined and scratched at the door, desperate to comfort his mother.

Thomasin kicked the door hard enough to shake the hinges. “Go away!” she shrieked. Her throat was already raw.

She was too tired to move anymore, even to get into bed. She fell to her side and curled in on herself, shivering like a dog left outside in a storm, still whimpering and gasping for breath.

***

Henry stood with Charlie and Roger as they waited for the executions to begin.

“You look unwell,” Henry remarked to his brother-by-law.

Roger heaved a sigh. “It’s always said when something beautiful dies.”

“What, the men?” Charlie asked.

Roger turned to face his friends. “Their lives. Their spirits.” Their physical forms, too, of course.

“That’s the nature of conquest,” Charlie said. “The old ways must end for the new ones to begin. If people cannot accept change . . .” He shrugged.

“I do not like the end part. You must feel some grief on behalf of Thomasin, Henry,” Roger said. “I cannot imagine. . .” he trailed off.

“I didn’t tell her,” Henry said.

“She’ll find out,” Charlie said neutrally. He still didn’t like Thomasin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was coming to accept her. “Assuming she hasn’t already.”

Henry knew that, knew it would be better to tell her himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I know,” he said.

***

Cerdic had no last words – or if he did, Henry didn’t hear them.

The men were strung up all at once, the nooses looped around their necks and the wooden bench kicked out from under them. A crueler king might have removed their heads one by one to heighten their fear, but William just wanted the business done with. He’d likely cut their heads off afterwards to mount on spikes near the city gates, though.

Henry left the first moment he could. Thomasin was probably fuming quietly in their room, probably repeatedly stabbing herself in the finger as she furiously embroidered something or other. He hoped so.

Charlie was right: Thomasin had probably found out about the executions somehow. He prayed that she didn’t know Cerdic was among the dead. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

He tried to enter the antechamber quietly, but the room was deathly silent; every small sound he made seemed to echo. The first thing he saw was Kal stretched out in front of the door that led to the bedroom, his chin resting on top of his paws. He looked downright pensive.

“Kal.”

The dog leapt to attention as Henry knelt to scratch his ear.

“Good boy,” Henry murmured.

Kal whined, trying to communicate that something was wrong with Thomasin. He’d been guarding her as best as he could, but she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom.

Henry scratched Kal one more time before steeling himself. He opened the bedroom door. His wife lay on her side on the floor, still sniffling and hiccupping from weeping.

“Tom?” he knelt on the ground beside her.

She moved her head the slightest bit to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You knew that Cerdic was here. That he was alive.” She was too exhausted to inject an accusatory tone into her raspy voice.

Henry took a deep breath. A lock of her rosy golden hair had gotten free of its braid; he gently tucked it behind her ear. “Yes.”

Her chin quivered as her eyes filled with tears. She shut them and turned away. “It was easier when . . .”

“I know.”

Her chin still moved. “I wish William had never come to England,” she said, voice high and tight. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a Norman.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Tom, you can’t blame every Norm –”

“Yes I can!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. Henry stood, too. On the other side of the door, Kal whimpered. “It’s your fault! You came here and you took what wasn't yours and you killed the men and raped the women. My country is dead!” Her voice cracked. “I have nothing left! You took everything from me!”

Henry’s voice was low but strong. “You have me.”

“I don’t want you!” she shouted. Her words cut Henry like the blade of a knife. “You or your bastard king and your merciless countrymen! I wish I’d never met you! I – I –”

I want to go home.

“Enough, Tom,” said Henry. “You’ll give yourself a fit.” Thomasin reached for the back of her neck; Henry caught her hands in his and stopped her before she even touched the necklace’s clasp. “Don’t,” he said softly.

Thomasin shoved away from him so hard she nearly fell backwards. Henry, who had the build of a stone wall, hardly budged. That made her so furious that she slapped him – tried to, anyway. Henry caught her wrist in his hand and used it to tug her close.

“Let go!” she shouted. “Henry, let me go!”

But he held her to his chest and would not unlock his grip. She kept shoving and hitting him until he finally released her – only to capture her again.

Somehow, she was suddenly lying back on the bed, her wrists firmly locked in Henry’s grasp as he pinned them above her head. He hovered over her on his knees, locking her legs between his strong thighs to make sure she didn’t try to kick him in her anger.

“Thomasin, enough!” he shouted.

Exhausted, she finally gave up the fight. She sank limp against the bed and started to weep.

She’d never cried in front of him before, Henry thought. He wasn’t even sure if she cried when she was wounded on the road. There were tears in her eyes on their wedding night and the day she tried to escape from him in the forest, but he didn’t think they ever spilled over.

He couldn’t stand to watch but he couldn’t look away. Thomasin needed him now. She was in mourning – for her father, her former betrothed, her relationships with her siblings, her country. She was mourning her own life, too, and what it might have been if William had never come.

“I hate you,” Thomasin whimpered through her tears.

“No, you don’t.” Her husband’s voice was tired but kind as he released her wrists and climbed off of her.

Her eyes were already shut; her outburst at Henry and fit of emotion after seeing Cerdic hanged drained her of all energy and she was on the very edge of sleep. “I hate you, Henry,” she insisted weakly.

Henry knew she wasn’t sincere, that she was just speaking out of anger, but the words still stung him all the same.

It wouldn’t hurt him at all if she’d just say out loud that she loved him. He only needed to hear it once. None of her accusations or insults would bother him if he knew beyond a doubt that she loved him even half as much as he loved her. With those words, he’d be invincible.

But she didn’t say it. Maybe she never would. She loved him, Henry was sure of it, but she was too proud to admit it.

Tom’s tears had slowed and turned from sobs to sniffles to deep, loud breathing.

Henry stayed beside her in bed, both of them still fully dressed, and soon drifted off. She turned to him in her sleep, unconsciously taking her rightful place in his arms and against his chest. Henry didn’t wake; his body knew instinctively to put his arms around her.

57 notes · View notes

because-of-a-friend · 3 years

Text

GuardianAngel!Jun

MASTERLIST

Thanks for the request anon! I really hope you like it!!! This was def a bit out of my comfort zone but in a really exciting way! Also I don’t keep up with absolutely all lore on angels/ guardian angels, so if I say something you weren’t expecting/didn’t really want or left out something you were expecting, I’m sorry and hope it’s still enjoyable anyways! (I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE THIS ANGSTY IT JUST SORT OF HAPPENED IM SORRY)

Warnings: Near death experiences (including almost drowning), mentions of injury and death, and angst

There are rules about being a guardian angel that are so obvious, they don’t need to be spoken

Obviously, if there’s a fixed point where your person has to get injured or even die, you can’t intervene

You can’t ever assist in a way that would get you spotted by your person

You can’t do more than simple guidance when it comes to matters of the heart and mind

And, you cannot ever meet your person and tell them who you are

Jun has always followed all rules to a T

He’s never gotten in trouble or anywhere even close to trouble

He’s an example to his peers

He always does his job perfectly

There’s never been a hitch

And then he’s assigned to you

At first your life is as normal as anyone else he’s ever been a guardian to

But then things get complicated

It’s honestly like you’re trying to get hurt

Suddenly, there’s just a period of time where you’re constantly in danger

Jun will save you once and then immediately be running off to save you again

Boy is he stressed

He feels like his constant state of being is just standing there, bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath before you need him again

He’ll admit that he’d rather be assigned to you than someone who never required his help at all

He’d be so bored

But still, did you always have to be so... reckless?

One day it gets to be too much

And Jun slips up

You had already walked under an AC unit falling from someone’s apartment window and he had to send a gust of wind to push you out of the way

Then you stepped out into the street in front of a car speeding down the road

Jun was still in the middle of breathing out a sigh of relief from the first incident

So he didn’t have the time to think of how to save you from the next danger

In his panic he steps forward and grabs you

You feel the hand around your wrist

You feel the force yanking you back out of the street

You see someone out of the corner of your eye

But once you fully turn to thank them, no one is there

You’re turning around over and over to see who you could have missed

But there’s really no one

Jun is watching you from a few feet away, now invisible to your eyes, his heart practically beating out of his chest

He didn’t do anything wrong... did he?

Technically he didn’t get caught by you

Technically

But that was close

He needs to be more careful

You have a period of time where you’re just utterly confused about what happened that day

You’re constantly looking over your shoulder wondering if maybe it was something supernatural

You start to notice your close calls with injury/death

And begin to wonder what’s stopping you from actually getting hurt

Sometimes it’s a gust of wind strong enough to push you out of the way, or a loud noise to stop you in your tracks, or sometimes just the kindness of a random stranger who is suddenly overcome with the need to help you

It’s starting to feel impossible how many times you’ve crossed paths with death and walked away fine

You begin to almost... test the waters

Instead of accidentally running into trouble, you start purposely running towards it

Jun is unbelievably stressed

Why do you have to do this?

He feels like he might die at this rate just from how much he’s stressing out about your safety

Then you put him in a situation where he really has no choice but to help you as himself

You’re walking by a community pool late at night after agreeing to help your friend that works there out by locking up for them so they could go out that night instead of being stuck at work late

There’s no one else there since it’s already closed

It’s dark and slippery

And with you being you, Jun is beyond nervous, so he follows behind you from no more than a foot away

It’s going fine and you’re almost done

So Jun is letting out a sigh of relief

But it was too soon

As you’re passing by to double check that the back door is locked, you slip on the wet floor

You tumble towards the pool and hit your head on the way down

Jun watches in horror as you fall into the water and sink straight to the bottom

He doesn’t hesitate even for a moment to jump in after you

He drags you out and sets you down next to the pool

You’re not waking up and he’s terrified

He begins to perform CPR

Finally you sit up, choking, water streaming out of your mouth

You saw him, you know you did

There’s a boy sitting in front of you even though you knew there was no one in the building besides you

He’s staring into your eyes with such great concern

“Are you ok?”

You nod slowly as he helps you sit up

“You need to go to the hospital, you hit your head”

You nod at his words again, reaching up the rub your eyes since they’re blurred from the water

“How did you get in-”

You stop mid sentence

As soon as you’ve taken your hands away from your eyes, you look up and see that no one is there

You begin to search around but you really are alone

You’re spooked and also worried that maybe it’s just because you hit your head that hard and immediately head to the hospital

The doctor discharges you quickly, telling you the hit didn’t do any serious damage and that you just needed to rest and take it easy for a few days

You’re still completely confused by the disappearing boy

Was he the same person that pulled you out of the street that one day?

Jun begins to observe you closely after these incidents

He can tell you must be thinking about him

Most days when you’re not busy, you’ll be staring off into the distance, your mind trying to explain these strange happenings

And for the first time since he’s ever become a guardian angel, Jun really wants to tell you

Usually he had no issues hiding from the people he was assigned to

But you

He likes the way you live

How you speak to people

Your goals and dreams and how you work towards them

The hobbies you enjoy

He feels happy being your guardian

And while it can be stressful sometimes, he never hates it

It feels, ironically, comfortable to be your guardian

He’s honestly grown quite fond of you

Which is also a big no-no for guardian angels

You should never get too attached to your assigned person

There will come a time where they have to get hurt

Or a time when their life must come to an end

If a guardian angel is too attached to a human

They may try to change what must be

But Jun hates watching you feel like you’re going insane over not being able to explain these instances

He wants to be able to explain it all to you

In the end all it takes is one more brush with danger before you’re standing there, Jun’s hand locked around your arm, staring into his eyes after he’s saved you once again

He immediately turns to walk away but you grab his arm

“WAIT! Wait!”

Jun knows he should do anything, anything at all to leave you right then and there so he doesn’t get caught

But he also doesn’t hate the idea of that happening

“I know you!” you say. “You saved me the other day at the pool!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning back to you, “but I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” you’re so sure this is the boy from the pool

Jun hesitates

Instead of saying anything, he just holds a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion before finally walking off

And you just stand there in awe

It was him

You go home immediately, beginning to study different supernatural creatures and happenings

You print out pages and pages of all sorts of information on any type of guardian creature you can find

You’re certain this boy is something other than human and you’re sure that whatever he is, he must be in charge of your safety

Now every time you almost get hurt or in trouble, you look around wildly, trying to spot the boy who you’ve only really been able to see twice

Sometimes you’ll catch a glimpse of a figure walking around a corner out of sight, or a being seemingly disappearing into thin air

This boy must be following you everywhere and you’re determined to catch him again

Jun, who is very tired after all of the saving you and then concealing himself moments, sort of just... lets you

One day you turn around after surviving another potentially dangerous moment, and he’s just... standing there

You can’t think of anything else to say, so you just blurt out the question, “Are you my guardian angel?”

Jun just smiles and nods at you, “Nice to finally meet you”

He walks you home that day

And you have a million questions for him

“Did you chose me or were you assigned to me?”

“What abilities do you have?”

“Have you been with me my whole life?”

“Do you have like... a boss?”

“Actually what is the system like?”

“What other supernatural creatures exist?”

“Do you have a name?”

He interrupts your next question by answering, “Jun.”

It silences you for a moment

“I like that name.”

Jun smiles brightly at you

You notice he sort of... glows

To say your relationship moves fast is an understatement

Jun knows your time together will be short

He’s heard what has happened to other guardian angels who have broken the rules

Someone will be coming for him

But he knows he’s in love with you

And wants to make sure he takes advantage of all the moments he has left with you

He’s very forward

But since your safety and comfort is his top priority, he always lets you set the boundaries beforehand

He’ll never do anything you don’t want him to do

But he’s definitely going to do anything and everything that you are ok with him doing

You feel strangely comfortable around him

Obviously you know he’s there to protect you and he’s been there your whole life

But it’s still strange how easy it is for you to just fall right into Jun

He holds your face in his hands and looks at you like you’re the whole world

And to him you are

Nothing has ever mattered to him as much as you

And all he wants to do is spend as much time with you as possible

He wants to go on all the traditional human type dates and do all the cliché human couple things

The two of you celebrate every human holiday in like a week so he can experience what it’s like lol

On the day you celebrate Valentine’s Day he gets you every cheesy gift he’s ever seen humans get each other

“Jun how am I supposed to sleep with this many giant teddy bears in my room?”

“You’ll figure it out”

Then you two celebrate Christmas and he definitely sets up mistletoe on every doorway

You don’t miss how tightly he holds you at night

Or the way he looks at you like you’re about to disappear

Or the way he always needs to suddenly reach for you to make sure you’re there

You know something is off

Why would your guardian angel suddenly show up out of the blue to spend your life with you?

“Junnie, you’d tell me if I was gonna die right?”

“What? [Y/N], what makes you think you’re gonna die?”

He comes and kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his

“I don’t know, sometimes you just act like... this is all going to end at any moment.”

Jun knows he should tell you

But he just wants the two of you to stay in your little bubble for as long as possible

“It’s just because I love you so much, and I just want to make sure you’re always safe and happy”

He clings to you even tighter the next few days

He knows he has to tell you asap so he wants to give you the best days of your life

He’s so doting

Makes you breakfast every day

Is always right there to show you affection

Wrapping his arms around you from behind

Resting his head on your chest and gazing up at you

Ruffling you hair

Pressing kisses all over your face

Letting his hands stroke up and down your arms and then all the way down to your fingers sending goosebumps across your skin

And then one day he gives you a gift out of nowhere

It’s a beautiful necklace that looks like one single angel wing

“Oh Junnie, I love it” you say putting it on immediately

You quickly notice that he’s wearing a necklace with a matching wing

“[Y/N], I need to tell you something.”

He sits close to you and strokes your hands with his thumbs as he lays out the reality of your situation

His heart is in the pit of his stomach by the time he’s finished and he’s ready for you to run away and leave him behind

But when you assure him that you also want to make the most of every moment you have left

He’s so happy he could cry

So you start to take him on all the typical cheesy human dates

So that way the two of you have plenty of happy moments together while also getting to experience everything

The carnival

Picnics

Walks on the beach

Stargazing

And it’s honestly perfect every time

When he stares lovingly down at your face, stroking his thumb slowly up your cheeks then leans in to kiss you slow and sweet under the stars, you feel like you could fly

Your happiness is short lived though

You’re not even surprised when two men show up at your door asking where Jun is

Despite not being surprised, you are devastated

The two of you put up a good fight

But the ending was inevitable

You watch helplessly as they drag Jun away from you

But before he’s gone completely he calls out to you

“If it’s in this life or the next, in this world or another, I will come back to you”

And as you see the look in his eyes during those last few moments

And see his expression as he says those words

You know that he will

88 notes · View notes

taeslovehandles · 4 years

Text

The commercial - Shortstory

It had been quite a while since Seokjin was able to enjoy his games freely. Play long into the night while trying to win against Yoongi and Jimin that had picked up Teamfight Tactics because of him.

The lockdown was annoying, mostly because the members couldn't see their fans at all, but it also meant more freetime. All the members were finally able to pick up hobbies and activities they hadn't been able to do with their fully packed schedules.

It was great and most of the group actually spend time with their families or meeting friends. Seokjin however played games. A lot of them. All day and all night. He had ordered takeout and drank lots of soda. Taehyung and Jungkook often came by to eat and play together and sometimes Hoseok would visit with cupcakes and new receipts for his Hyung to try.

The year went by quickly and with it came changes. Heavy changes. Sitting all day without exercising and constantly stuffing your face had it's toll. And it was showing.

-Knock Knock-

Nothing. Seokjin didn't hear ithe knock. He was too panicked finding jeans that still fit him.

"Hyung?"

A shirt landed on Namjoons face.

"Hyung what are you doing in here?!"

"Joonie...Joonie I'm having some issues okay? Look." He pulled his way too tight shirt up to reveal a proud and sagging belly with wide and thick love handles. But the most prominent feature was his wide bubblebutt. It was massive.

"Oh."

"This is a bigger problem that a simple 'Oh' Joonie. These were my fat jeans Joonie. My fat jeans won't go over my thighs!"

That was a problem. But Namjoon couldn't shake the thought away how unbelievably hot his Hyung looked like that. To his demise his reddened cheeks couldn't either.

"Uhm... That is an issue but... I actually came here to ask if you read the group chat for the new schedule?"

"No. As you may have noticed I got bigger problems right now." Massive problems.

Namjoon bit his lips. "Well..."

"What is it?" Seokjin tried once more to get his tight shirt over his belly. It didn't even cover half of it. Good god he really let himself go.

Namjoon rubbed the back of his head. "Well the news you're about to hear won't be good ones then."

"Just tell me already. It can't be worse than this." He gestured to his body as he slightly jumped up and down. Everything jiggled. God Namjoon was glad he was wearing wide sweatpants and a hoodie to cover his erection.

"Well. The company accepted a new agency and we are having a shooting tomorrow for a commercial clip."

"Oh." Now it was Seokjin that said it. His eyes widened as his brain slowly realized what that meant. "Oh my fucking god. This is..."

"Bad?"

"Terribly bad. Shit. What am I supposed to do now Joonie!?" Seokjin truly panicked now. He had nothing to wear. How was he even. Fuck.

"Suits."

"What?"

"They told us to wear suits for the shooting. That's all I know." Namjoons red cheeks were still pronounced on his face. He only eyed Seokjins rare like five times.

"Oh god. I can't wear my suit though?"

"Well-" And Namjoon hated himself for suggesting something that was obvious but he was literally drooling over Seokjins wide ass. "Maybe your suit still fits? You should try it. The fabric is more stretchy. You didn't gain that much." He did. Seokjin looked like a version that ate Seokjin. Each asscheek as big as one curled up Seokjin. No way was the man gonna fit in his old suit. But Namjoon couldn't help himself. He needed to see this.

"No I haven't tried them on yet. Let's see." Rummaging through his closet, Seokjin pulled his black suit out and held it over his body. "And you really think -that- still fits in there?" He grabbed part of his jiggly big butt.

"It might be a bit tight but it should fit." Why was Namjoon like that. It wouldn't fit. Not in a million years.

"Alright then let's try it. Nothing to lose."

------

A disaster. It had been a disaster. Not only did Seokjin rip the button of his pants but also ripped his entire shirt open at the seams. And if that hadn't been bad enough the poor man also ended up splitting his pants in the process of hunching over to pick up the popped button from the ground, presenting Namjoon with his wonderful underwear. An underwear that had also been too small revealing a big asscrack. Great.

-sniff-

"What am I supposed to do now Joonie?" Seokjins eyes looked teary. He was about to burst into tears.

"Hey shh. It's okay. I know a shop that basically lives off of situations like this."

"People getting too fat for their suits?"

Namjoon pinched Seokjins nose. "No dummy. People that need a custom tailord suit within 24h. I'll call them and we buy you a new one for tomorrow okay?"

Rubbing his nose Seokjin looked hopeful now. "Okay...Thank you Jonnie. You are a life saver."

---------

The suit had been made with ease and Seokjin looked presentable for the shooting the next day. Namjoon had been nice enough to inform the other members about their Hyungs 'weight struggles' and asked them to be scincere as well as to not mention it around him or stare too much.

But it was hard not to stare. The man that entered the shooting was huge. Seokjin had really packed on the pounds this past year. So much that his butt had touched the door frame on both sides slightly. The members did not mentioned his weight gain nor did they stare. At least not when Seokjin was looking.

"Hey guys. Sooo does anyone know what this shooting is for? What commercial are we filming?" Seokjin asks curious but also a bit embarrassed. No one had said anything about his new figure yet. He was glad they didn't but he still felt out of place.

"Hyundai is revealing their new S Class and we will be the new ambassadors for them. It's a huge deal apparently." Yoongi answers.

"Oh. Okay. Cars. No that's. That's cool." Seokjin was starting to sweat. He hadn't sat in a car for a year and didn't know if he would even fit in one anymore.

"Do you know if we-"

"Alright guys. Please come over here and stand infront of the car. I want three of you sitting down and the other four standing around it please." The director yells from across the room.

Standing. Seokjin would definitely stand. He scooted next to Namjoon on the left side of the car to slightly lean against it. Somehow look cooler.

The director looked at them and took some test shots before directing them for multiple different shots. Some with everyone walking toward the camera. Some with units of two to three and Seokjin really thought he would be able to finish this without getting into any uncomfortable situations. He thought that too soon.

"Alright. I will be taking action unit shots now. I want Mr.Kim and Mr.Park for this one please. Just stand next to the car for now please."

Seokjin did as he was told until the director kept rubbing his beard. "Mhmm actually. Can Mr.Kim please sit inside the car and get out after Mr.Park says his line?"

"Sure." Oh god Oh god Oh god no why please. At first Seokjin kept calm. He opened the door and sat inside. Or more so let his heft pull him into the tiny seat. His belly was in the way and he couldn't close the door because of it but the director seemed to like the casual look of Seokjin only sitting halfway in it with his legs outside.

Jimin said his line and then it was over. Seokjin tried to get up and out of the seat but his butt wouldn't budge. He tried again. Nothing.

Jimin whispered. "What are you doing. Get up?"

"I can't." Seokjin whispered back. "I'm stuck." Oh this was a nightmare. How in the world was Seokjin supposed to get out of this with his pride in tact?

"Cut." The director glanced at Seokjin when he spoke more firmly. "Mr.Kim is there a problem?"

"Oh uhm. No. It's just." He laughed akwardly. "You see. I really like this car and I was thinking maybe I could just keep sitting in it for this tape?"

The director cocked his brow as he obviously looked the man up and down.

"I agree!" Jimin came to his rescue. "Wouldn't it be a more dynamic shot if Seokjin keeps sitting and me walking toward him as I say my line? That way the car would be more in the focus." Jimin you smart son of a bitch. Seokjin truly loved his members.

"Mhmm. Alright let's try it!" The director sat back on his chair and Jimin winked at Seokjin before leaving to get ready for his walking scene.

-------

It was a blast. The scene looked good and right after Jimins and Seokjins shot they switched to another car color with Namjoon and Hoseok. This gave everyone else time to figure out how to get Seokjin out of that damn car.

"Wait don't pull on my suit! It's gonna rip!"

"Hyung we need to grab you somewhere though. " Taehyung pouts.

"Yah. Less talking more pushing." Yoongi had climbed onto the front seat and was pushing into Seokjins butt to somehow get him free.

"This isn't working." Jimin states.

"It would work if you'd help me push or pull him." Yoongi was out of breath. But not giving up.

God Seokjin just wanted to disappear into the ground and never come back out again. His members hands were everywhere on him. Squishing his fat without succeeding in getting him out. He had never felt so embarrassed.

It took them 15 minutes until they finally managed to pull him out of the car seat. Unfortunately Seokjin had somehow managed to press one side of his butt against the steering wheel and the hall was filled with a loud honk.

Whoever had been busy and not staring at the members did now. And Seokjin was standing there with his jacket open and a ridden up shirt that revealed his jiggly lover belly as well as wide hips poking out of his pants.

He stood there and laughed akwardly. He had to diet. He'd start tomorrow. Or maybe in a few days.

#taeslovehandles #wg story #ripping pants #bottom heavy #chubby bt5 #idk I felt like it #lol

65 notes · View notes

rozzes · 3 years

Text

The beauty of difference

Virtual Hugs and Kisses

How have you been? Today has been the first day in two years that we went to the beach, I truly had a blast. Last night finished "One Hundred Names" by Cecilia Ahern, it was very beautiful especially the last few chapters, and the characters, very recommended if you like reading. That's all for today, hope you have a wonderful day/night.

بيننا اختلاف وليس خلاف

This translates to we have a difference, not an argument, which means that we don't allow the differences to create a problem. I was in a mental awareness class where the professor I’m stuck in the back can communicate to fix them or help yourself. And she said this sentence that stuck with me afterward, I think it summarizes What a healthy discussion, this thin line between an argument and communication is excepting the other points of view

Would we want to have a healthy conversation no matter if we agree or not on the other person ideas the way they approached his thoughts we should not allow it to turn into an argument, you have to accept whatever that person says no matter if you believe it or not or agree with it at all because the way we were created different colours, culture, backgrounds, stories, and hobbies all of these built us to become the person that we are today the beliefs we have.

We are different and there is nothing wrong with that, but you know what united says the fact that we’re all we all work on ourselves because we want to be in a better place mentally and physically.

Arguments never change Anything, they make even more damage because that person would get agitated because he will try to fight back for what he believes in no matter if you're right or if it's a fact that you're saying if you turn it into an argument that person would not repent, but if you communicate with wisdom calmness control of yourself you might actually have more imp at or at least respect between both sides sometimes these type of conversations stick with you to the point that yoga back think about what the other person said what if he was right well he made a point there you know what I’m saying

I’m not an expert in communication and warmth or way, but I didn’t know the situations I’ve been in where I turned it into conversation or when I turn it into an argument I have had it both I don’t see that we both have conversation really impacts the way the other person thinks it sparks this spot into them that when you have another conversation they will bring up what you said because they do remember the times you were screaming for shouting your points these were not because all the person remember is that you were shouting at them.

Hope you enjoyed it!

Stay safe

Lots of Love

#talking #booklr #beautiful #amazing #art #beauty #love #conversation #argument #communication #calm #wisdom #peace #mindfulness #inner peace #hope #self accepectance

3 notes · View notes

hotchley · 3 years

Note

i saw your reblog of the Spencer giving Aaron a father's day card thing and i can't stop thinking about how Aaron is the father figure to the entire team now.

(yes I'm also especially thinking about that one scene of Spencer and Derek stuck in the malfunctioning lift shrieking for Aaron just because. 🥴 dad!Hotch ftw!!!!!)

i know this concept has probably been done hundreds of times already but imagine: (SORRY THIS IS GOING TO BE A REALLY LONG ASK, I deeply apologise in advance)

[tw food/eating habits, some references to murder cases because you know this is Criminal Minds, some slight spoilers for people who haven't really watched the show and also reference & mention of autism & a character on the autism spectrum -> just a heads up, a disclaimer, I'm in no way diagnosed with autism, so if i have misrepresented autism, or made any mistakes, i apologise, it wasn't my intention, and i welcome all feedback & criticism — i genuinely want to learn]

a year after Spencer joins the BAU, Aaron notices & becomes very concerned over Spencer's (super bad) eating habits aka him only drinking coffee and forgetting to eat actual proper food when he gets absorbed in cases or research or reading etc -> which results in Aaron absolutely being like "hey Spencer let's grab lunch together" almost everyday just so Spencer eats (healthy, full meals)

(also Spencer picking up on this after Aaron "casually" gets him lunch/treats him to dinner/invites him over for meals for almost every day of the week and he was initially almost irritated/offended until he realised he could use Aaron's habit to make Aaron himself eat properly too because this hypocritical bastard doesn't eat properly himself either so every alternate day you can see Spencer purposely not going for lunch breaks while sneaking glances at Aaron's office just waiting for him to notice and drag them both to lunch together 😌)

also I really think Spencer is on the autistic spectrum (high functioning, imo, but I'm not really sure how this works, and I'd have to do more research) so I'd like to imagine Aaron knows that too because he's noticed Spencer's behaviors + Spencer got an official diagnosis and told him about it maybe 6-7 months into joining the BAU so I really think Aaron lets Spencer stim (physically, his hand gestures) on their lunch break because he knows that Spencer can't really do that in front of the others, so even when they're on cases, he would take Spencer out either for a private lunch or dinner or something, just the two of them, and he'd let Spencer stim & talk about any subject of his fancy as much as he wants to (I'm pretty sure someone wrote a fic like this and I absolutely can't remember the name or the author but I really LOVED the idea too)

initially Spencer was really taken aback too, because you know, this isn't something you do with your boss, of all people, but Hotch had always meant what he says and his facial expression and body language suggested that he was being absolutely sincere and serious about this, so Spencer tentatively started talking, and as their meal progressed, he eventually got comfortable enough to just go on, and not once did Aaron cut him off rudely, until the end of their meal, when Aaron couldn't continue to pretend to drink his soup because he'd finished it somehow with those incredibly small spoonfuls, and he'd had to gently tell Spencer that they had to go back, but Spencer wasn't upset, because he'd just got over an hour to talk about this recent seminar about the connection of ancient Greek mythology to the developments of the society in ancient Greece which no one had ever done for him before and he's full, satisfied and beyond elated because Hotch really didn't have to do this, but he did anyways

at first it was just something between them but eventually Derek noticed & like in the end I think it's a kind of open secret between Aaron, Spencer & Derek and now when Derek notices Aaron doing it he gives Aaron a small nod and he wards off & deals with the questions that the others have when they inevitably notices the private meals Aaron & Spencer has

speaking of Derek, Aaron definitely has 1 on 1 time with Derek too, but doing different things. Derek's thing is sports & home renovations, and he repairs/maintains cars & bikes when he can, and I like to imagine Aaron knowing about his hobbies and casually asking Derek about the home renovation he's working on one time (before or early S1) Derek came into his office to submit a case file, and Derek being kind of shocked/caught by surprised initially (because he knows Hotch has a soft spot for the kid because he's much younger and much, much more inexperienced but Derek's older and should know better, so Hotch won't do the whole private lunch thing with him, right?) but then he grins and starts telling Aaron about how "I got that place absolutely shining right now, man" and then he invites Aaron over to take a look at the place out of courtesy/habit (his mama raised him as a good, polite young man, and no way Hotch would even say yes right?) and to his surprise once again, Aaron does accept his invitation

after that one time, Aaron begins casually asking him about his projects and even starts offering to help him do some of the painting and decorating (to be fair, it calms Aaron too, to have a getaway from Haley and initially from the crying baby, because while he absolutely loved Haley and Jack with all his heart, some days, some days he just couldn't take it, all the stress from Strauss and from trying to be a good father unlike his own, and he had to take some time off to himself, and painting walls is calming and therapeutic to him in some sense) & Derek and Aaron start bonding over hotdogs while sitting out on the front porch of some halfway remodelled house, talking about the latest sports news (they support different baseball teams but that's okay, because Derek gets to grin at Hotch and ask him to pay up when Hotch's team loses to his, and Aaron gets to raise his eyebrows with that small knowing smirk of his and ask Derek to "complete this by the next weekend, will you" when Derek's team loses to his)

when Aaron recruits Penelope, he's read her file, or what little the FBI's cyberteam got on her anyways. he knows the Black Queen's reputation, and he knows that the cyberteam really don't trust her and recommended high levels of surveillance, but the moment he saw her through the glass of the interrogation room and her resume & application on pink paper, he knew that she's not just what the file said she is. initially, she sticks to the "bureau regulated office attire" because you know, Penelope knows she's lucky, she should've been jailed for what she did, she was jailed, until this Aaron Hotchner guy decided, somehow, that she was deserving to be on his team, even after looking at her resume, which she had written on pink paper out of pure spite (because nothing in the FBI rulebooks said anything about submitting your application on specialized coloured paper anyways) but she was moody and unhappy because she's stuck in this tiny office having to answer the phone whenever agents called to ask for details on icky, gruesome murders and disgusting, vile murderers so she decides that hey, since no one ever comes in here anyways, she might as well do some re-decorating right? so she starts bringing in her own soft toys and figurines and starts amassing a whole collection of soft, plushy, and colourful toys in because it's her office and if she has to deal with all these yucky stuff on a daily basis she's going to make it at least bearable to be in here

one day, some tall, stern looking guy just comes into her office with this Tupperware in his hands saying "hey, Garcia right? my wife made some extra cupcakes for the team, you want some?" and she asks "do i know you?" and he blinks, stands there for one, two seconds before- "sorry, i forgot we haven't actually met. Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner, assistant unit chief of BAU Team 1, nice to meet you," [i like to headcannon that before Boston & all, Hotch was Gideon's assistant, some kind of assistant unit chief probably, but while he wasn't yet the unit chief he was definitely taking care of most, if not all of the administration matters i.e. hiring new agents etc already because let's be real Gideon is caring & capable but really hands off sometimes (also in S1E1 Derek referred to Gideon as their Unit Chief so I assumed Hotch took over the position full time, officially somewhere between S1E1 and S1E2 or 3)]

and then Garcia's brain kind of short-circuits because holy shit this is her BOSS, aka the guy who somehow, crazily looked at her resume and decided to HIRE her and she just asked him if she knew him OH GOD ALL THOSE FIGURINES- and she tries to explain because she really didn't mean to break any rules with them and they aren't, are they? and she can remove them but just, please, she can't go back to prison.

but then Agent Hotchner just goes "hey, hey, Penelope. it's fine. I understand. this is your office, and you have the right to decorate it. I'm not going to fire you over.... My Little Ponies? and uh, some unicorns?" and Penelope can't help but laugh because he genuinely looks baffled by her collection on her desk, and did he just call her Penelope?

and after that, once, after a bad case that Aaron knew affected Penelope (it involved murdered parents & their only child left orphaned and it just hit too close to home for Penelope), he stopped by a local toy shop and bought the brightest, most sparkly, most colourful thing he could find in there (it ended up being a small figurine of a princess on a small, detachable throne that could light up and play some really funky pop music. Aaron cringed internally as he brought it over to the counter, and awkwardly nodded as the cashier asked, "buying this for your daughter, sir? she's going to love it, it's the latest in a collectable series" and he pretended to not see the questioning eyebrow that Derek gave him after seeing the package) and when he presented it to Penelope when they got back, he got the biggest and most bone crushing hug ever from Penelope because "aw that's so sweet, thank you! and you got me the latest in the collection! it's limited edition!" and it just ended up becoming a tradition — Penelope always looks forward to the end of a case now, not only because that means her people are coming home, safe, in one piece (sometimes debatable but still, they're coming home, to her) but it also means that Hotch has brought her yet another tiny figurine or souvenir to add to her collection and she can't wait to see what it is, and Hotch always, always, finds the time after they've wrapped up the case, before the jet leaves, to pop by a local toy shop to get both Penelope and later, when he's older, Jack some toys or souvenir from wherever state he's in, because he wants both of them to know, that despite all the bad out there, there is still good in the world, and they should never forget that

OKAY this ask is SUPER LONG already i apologise skfjsk i have ideas for JJ & Emily but idk if you'd even wanna continue reading them... (maybe.... give me a sign and I'll send another ask and write it? 🥴)

anyways this was just something that came up and i had to write it out 🥺 sorry for spamming you, i hope you're having a great day/night ahead.

- 🌙

Hi so I'm putting everything below the cut for scrolling purposes x

He is!!

Oh my god, I love that scene. It came up in a TikTok about ships, because Person A and Person B are both very smart when they're alone, but put them together and it cancels out, and it made me laugh.

I also love Dad Hotch. Like I love him as much as I love "fighting to keep his emotions in check because he needs to be a leader, but you can tell from the slight change in tone, or the slight glaze of his eyes that he's seconds away from crying" Hotch. Which is saying something.

DON'T APOLOGISE FOR LONG ASKS!! That's what the keep reading on posts is for :))

Oh I love how much Hotch cares about Reid, and of course Reid uses it to his advantage to get Hotch to do the same, because they're similar in that way. Also, he would definitely start grinning when Hotch looks down at his empty plate like: oh. Platonic Hotchreid is everything to me, because it's these two people that have been caretakers their entire life trying to look after another person that wouldn't let anyone do that and it's just... the HOTCH ANGST POTENTIAL THAT IS SO UNTAPPED!!!

Also, not a criticism of you, but from what I've heard from people is that functioning labels are harmful and shouldn't be used because it misrepresents the situation!

I love that idea though!! And Derek being protective over them so he's just like: no, you won't interrupt them, and I will take control of the situation for a few hours AAH!!

OH I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT MORGAN AND HOTCH BONDING!! It's so perfect!! I love the idea of Morgan teaching Hotch to do things, and Hotch realising how relaxing he finds it to do these things.

And because we can't have nice things: he refuses to go after Foyet breaks into his apartment because he doesn't deserve peace, but then Morgan just uses his key, drags him out, takes him to a house and presses a brush into his hand because he's not going to let his friend self destruct like this.

EVERYTHING ABOUT GARCIA!! OH MY GOD!! I need to get some work done, so I'm going to finish up there, but seriously!! Amazing!! I love the idea of Hotch getting her little figurines and stuff <33

(shameless self promo, she does the same for him in "and he will come back home" hehe)

I would love to hear the Emily and JJ ones!! I hope that's the sign you need :)

Don't apologise for spamming I was having a dull day, and I hope you have a good day too!

#🌙anon #people talk to me #tw food #tw eating habits

15 notes · View notes

wordynerdygurl · 4 years

Text

Skin Deep ~ Part 1

Author’s Note: Hello, hello, hello! I hope everyone’s staying healthy and Six Feet Away from everyone else! Remember, kiddies, wearing a mask keeps all of us safe! With that out of the way, I hope you all like this new series! The idea has been percolating for awhile and I’m happy to share part one with you here. As you all know, I typically write for Loki and while he will be making a major appearance in this ditty, it won’t be until Part 2. Come along for the ride, won’t you?? You know that I love all of you, all the likes, comments, reblogs, and consideration... so thank you all so much! Asks are open, so message me if you have an idea! Or, asked to be tagged in future stories! Always, thanks to @sammy-jo1977, beta reader and friend, for encouraging me during this one!

Pairing: Loki X Reader, Steve Rogers X Reader, Natasha & Reader friendship Summary: Loki’s leaving two years ago changed you in ways that Natasha and Steve can’t abide. Encouraged to find love again, in the arms of Steve Rogers, seems like a great idea. But what happens when Loki comes to claim what he’s promised? Warnings: Angst, Lost Love, Eventual SMUT

Part 1

Plopping down to the planed floor with a soft “Ooph”, you immediately reached for your water bottle. Oh sweet, icy cold condensation rolling off, taunting you with the allure of complete hydration. With a swipe of your sweat covered brow, you flipped open the cap, panting, “Why do we do this?”

“Because we ate all of Tony’s gourmet donuts.”

“That was weeks ago… and all your fault, I might add!”

Natasha eased herself down to your level, not looking as winded or wiped as you did, “God, they were delicious.”

“He special orders those, ya know? Calls the bakery weeks ahead to make sure they bring enough of those… what are they? Eclairs?” “Cream horns. Loves those things.” Natasha, grunting, as she pulled her ballet slipper free. Turning to your friend, laughing tiredly, “So do I!” Resting your head on the wall behind you, “Thanks for coming with me. I know you get your workouts in with the team, but I just can’t imagine running around in that gym…”, you trailed off, unsaid words hanging in the air.

Natasha didn’t respond beyond a nod, adding, “It’s fun! And I don’t have to hear Steve’s whining over you the whole time.” “As if, Nat.” “I’m serious.” Natasha stretched like a cat before rising, “He likes you almost as much as you like Tony’s donuts.” Chuckling, you took the hand she offered, pulling you up to standing. You moved through the locker room, still out of breath, trailing Natasha until she stopped in front of units 14 and 16. Throwing you a towel, drying her own dampened skin, “Donuts aren’t Loki. You know that right?” Snorting around the bottle at your lips, sputtering, “Jesus, Nat! Yes. Yes. I am very well aware of the fact that Loki is not donuts… or donuts are not him. Or whatever the hell you are trying to say to me. I know, Ok?” “It’s just…” She busied herself digging through her bag, not looking at you, trying to keep her voice light. Edged with unspent anger, gruffer than you liked to hear yourself, “Yea?” “You’re... snippy. How long has it been now?” Tossing the question over her shoulder casually like it was no more than her sweat soaked towel. Standing now on overworked legs, “You know how long it’s been Nat.” Pulling your locker open with a jerk, a hard sigh ripping from your throat, the flash of hurt undeniable. Shutting her own firmly, “... when do you move on, then?” “When? Better question: How? How do I? He asked me to wait, Natasha. I told him I would.” “It’s been two years.” “One year, ten months, three weeks and 5 days.” Correcting your friend didn’t make you feel better. Leveling you with her cool stare, that secretive partial smile pulling at her lips, Natasha lowered herself onto the bench. Your back rested against the cool mesh metal and damn it if the liquid heat of tears weren’t forming in your eyes. Slinking over to you, Natasha wrapped her arms around your shoulders, her diminutive strength holding you close despite your clammy skin. “You deserve happiness. Even Loki would understand that.” Pausing, Natasha zipped up her bag, nudging you to follow. “Besides, you need to get laid.” Snatching up your own gym gear, “Nat! I do not.” Grumbling, you followed her towards the locker room doors, zipping up your hoodie before pushing out into the street. “Trust me. You do.” Stopping at the corner, you grabbed your friend’s hand. “He’s a God. It’s not that easy to just replace him… in my life. Or… in the bedroom, ya know?” Holding up two fingers, like a VE day salute, Natasha wiggled them in your face. Her meaning was clear. It had been two years. Too damn long. “Ok. Ok. Fine. Let’s say, you’re right. I do need to move on. What does that even look like?” Stepping through the Tower’s automatic doors, whispering your fear out loud made you feel guilty, as if you had already betrayed your promise somehow. Punching in the passcode and selecting your floor number from the elevator, Natasha focused straight ahead, answering, “You’re surrounded by super heroes.” “So? They’re co-workers. Well, technically, they’re my boss’ husband’s co-workers.” “Come on. When Loki was… around, you all hung out together. And, since he’s been gone, I know at least one of them has been keeping a close eye on you.” Interest piqued, “Really? Who?” Chuckling at your eagerness, “Steve.” “Oh.” You flexed your neck, looking at the lights above you, not entirely surprised by Nat’s admission. He might have thought his actions were stealthy, but the Captain had made his interest pretty clear, always pulling out your chair, asking about your day, and in general showing up wherever you happened to be. “You should give him a chance. And you know as well as I do-”

Cut off by the ping of the opening doors, she took a step back, letting Steve Rogers into the lift. “Ladies.” “Captain.” Nat nodded. “Captain Rogers.” Everything Natasha has been saying flooded your mind. How Steve was into you, asking about you, thinking of you. Suddenly you were acutely aware of how you looked. Short hair tucked into a cloth headband, sweat soaked strands stuck to your neck. Your sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, the thick strap of your sports bra exposed in all it’s fluorescent green glory. Did you smell? Oh god. Sliding to the back of the car, you cowered, hoping that Captain America would ignore you completely. No dice. “How was the class?” “Good. This one-” pointing at you, Natasha continued, “-is quite the leaper!” Hot blood flooded your face, painting your neck, as you flushed under the praise. Facing you now, Steve licked over his bottom lip, “Is that so?” Had you ever noticed just how sharp his jaw actually was? Or the way his shirt sleeves, rolled up to the elbows, made his arms look so strong? Your heart thudded dully in your ears, crowding out Steve’s voice as you imagined, just for a second, being alone with him in the lift. “What?” Asking dully, stunned by the force of your long ignored need, you hadn’t heard his follow up question. Lowering his head, softly chuckling, “I asked if you two were having lunch? Could I join you?” “I’m in a meeting… Fury is in town.” Rolling her eyes, Natasha stepped out on her floor, “See you later!” You just knew she was going to grill about all this at some point, but now you were trapped in a metal box with one of those sexy superheroes she’d told you to move on with. Doors closing with a metallic hiss, Steve smiled at you sweetly, “About lunch?” “Um… well, I’d need to shower. Change…” Talking with your hands, betraying your nervous energy, you struggled with an excuse as to why you couldn’t join with the Captain. “I can wait. Want to meet up on the patio… say, forty five minutes?” Looking so hope filled, you found yourself smiling broadly at the blonde Adonis, now holding open the doors, waiting for your reply. “Sure. Forty five minutes.”

It took an hour. You hadn’t meant to, but by the time you’d cleaned up, thrown on a skirt and tucked in your tee shirt, slapped on a bit of mascara and tied your sneakers, it had been sixty minutes. Even though you were jumpy and jittery, since Loki left, this was the closest thing to a date you’d been on. Stepping out onto the patio, squinting into the noonday sun, you spotted the golden boy easy enough. Sitting comfortably, a brown paper bag on the table, Steve looked completely at ease waiting for your grand entrance. Shifting, he glanced your way, freezing at the sight of you. Gaining his feet slowly, Steve watched your approach, “Hi…” There was a tone of appreciation in his voice that made your skin tingle. “Hello, Captain.” God, even the sound of your voice was sexy. Steve found himself stuttering, flustered, by the overwhelming sweetness of you. Clapping his hands against his leg, “Um… please, call me Steve, ok?” “Yes, ok. Steve.” A long minute passed where you looked at Steve and he looked back at you. He was just so glad to have you all to himself, uninterrupted, that looking at you took his breath away. It also erased his manners for a heartbeat, “Please, sit down. I, uh… I had some sandwiches made.” Tucking a lock of short hair behind your ear, you grinned, “Is this… is this a picnic? For me?” Squinting a bit, shrugging his shoulders with a laugh, “Maybe?” “Maybe is ok with me.” Reflecting that tentative tone, part curious, part cautious, you reached for the bag. “I’m starving!” Sipping from your glass bottle Coke, you looked over the Avenger before you. So wholesome, so clean cut. Nothing like the dark and devious God of Mischief who’d stolen your heart and then abandoned it so long ago. Munching on your sandwiches, delicious and fresh, your nervousness ebbed away. Basic first date stuff flowed between the pair of you, movies you loved and why, favorite colors and school subjects. Hobbies came next, and you found yourself surprised when Steve shyly admitted, “Drawing. I love to draw. Before I was… um… when I was just Steve, I could sketch myself into another world. It was freeing.” “That’s how I feel about music.” Talking to Steve felt nice. And you knew that was a cliche adjective, but nice was so easy. It’s how you found yourself talking about your first live concert, Heart, when you were eight and how it made you love rock music as a kid. “Heart… sounds familiar.” He was cute as mused over the placing the name, wiping the Dorito dust off his fingers. Excitedly you recited songs that meant so much to you, “Barracuda? Magic Man?” “Magic Man… I think I know that one.” Unable to stop yourself, singing into the now drained Coke bottle turned microphone, “Try to understand, try, try, try to understand! He’s a Magic Man, mama… He’s got magic hands!” Clapping at your performance, Steve smiled at you, warm and even. “Magic Men? Magic hands, huh?” And suddenly, Loki was there, front and center in your thoughts. The scent of worn leather and dark liquor filled your nose, phantoms from memory, come to torment you. An image of Loki and those wickedly smart hands, coaxing you onto your back as his silver tongue devoured your sopping center already overdue for his attention, was as real now as when you had lived it. He had magic hands. He’d proven that to you over and over again. Tears rose to your eyes, clouding your vision, as everything that was sweet about the afternoon turned sour. “Um… I’m sorry Steve. I need to… uh… I have to go.” Stumbling to your sneakered feet, you quickly cleared the table, unable to look at the super soldier as you made a fast escape. “I lost someone I loved too.” His words made you stop in your tracks, his tone darker than you’d ever hear before. In four long strides, Steve caught up with you, just as your hand gripped the door’s handle.

Unable to turn, afraid to face him, sobbing softly, “I know Steve… but this is different.” “Yea… I know. I know it is.” Hearing his voice, just as raw, just as ragged as your own, made it easier to give in. Putting the door to your back, looking at Steve through wet lashes, frustration in his baritone, “I just… damn.”

Lifting his blue eyes to yours, begging for the words that would somehow make all of this normal, “Would you ever… could you ever…?” Your mouth started moving, swayed by the earnestness of his sentiment, “Maybe. It’s the best I can do, Steve.” “Maybe is ok with me.”

Wavering now, your smile faltering as tears threaten to fall, “Thanks.” If he answered, you didn’t hear it. Rushing inside with a fist in your mouth, hoping to block the lovesick cry that ripped from you, practically running down the hallway to your place. Not wanting anyone to see you so broken, so torn, after all this time, you needed to escape. Safely in your apartment, all alone, collapsing on the bed, you couldn’t stop your mind from replaying the afternoon. From the gentle banter and kind hearted ‘get to know you’ vibes of your lunch with Steve, when you had opened up to the idea of a new love, a new start. To how easy it was to let Loki creep into your thoughts, a riptide pulling you back into the shadows of your feelings for his dark desire. Guilty bile burned your throat at the idea that you might be betraying your absent love… letting him down, somehow. Hitting the pillow behind you, weeping openly now, you thought about the last time Loki had come to you. His words, his actions, all showing a deep affection for you. Even if Loki had never said the actual word, he had shown you time and again that he did truly love you. “Pet. We must speak.” Sex drunk and sapped, you curled over the lithe chested God in your bed, “Sounds serious…” Sitting up, Loki forced you to move, his profile sharp in the dim light of early dawn. “I’ve been called to Jotunheim.” Leaning back on your elbows, “Ok… Jotunheim. Why?” His broad back to you, Loki’s head dipped forward, resting on his folded legs. “I… I am the rightful heir to their throne. They need a ruler and-” turning to face you, “-it is me. There is talk of war. If there’s any chance to avoid it, I must be there. I have to go.” Leaning your cheek into his shoulder, you sighed, “You have to go. I understand that.” “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Nosing under his arm, smooshing against Loki’s ribs, “Hmm… you’ve been away before. I always manage, somehow… and...” Looking down at you through his dusky lashes, a secretive smile on those tasty lips, “And?” “You always come back to me.” “I do… I have. Will you…” Pausing, Loki twined his fingers with yours, testing the weight of your hand, “That is… wait for me?” Pressing a small kiss to his sweet mouth, “Always, babe. I’ll be right here.”

“Promise me. Promise that you’ll wait for me.” Panic flashed over him, causing Loki to tug you closer, crushing you against his chest, his mouth conquering yours thoroughly. “I promise, Loki. Promise me that you’ll be careful.” Solemnly nodding, “Yes. I promise, pet.” Satisfied, smoothing his hair off his forehead, “I love you. You know that.” Soothing the shaken prince, your words calmed him and Loki found a fragile peace in the parting of your lips. Lowering you against the cotton sheets, taking what was promised to him once more, Loki lingered over your tender body, committing every dip and dimple to memory. Your arms clung to his, hooked under his bulging biceps, fingers wrapping over the back of his shoulders. There was only you and Loki in the deepening dark of dawn. His slow and steady rhythm forcing your knees to the side, opened wide for him. Your body, always eager, now overflowing with want, welcomed Loki again and again. How softly he hummed, “Pet… my pet… wait for me. Wait for me.” And your own responsive reply, “Yes, Loki. Yes. Always.” Teeth nipped at your neck, biting hard, marking you. In that shared moment of giving and receiving of pain, your body surrendered to Loki’s masculine invasion, even as you conquered his desire. Shivering in his arms, sleep pulling you away from your lover, “Loki… I’ll wait forever.” When you woke up, still dressed from your lunch date with Steve, your pillow was soaked through. You hadn’t cried over Loki in months, let alone in your sleep. Talking it over with Natasha later you whispered, “It was like I relived our last night together. I could feel him, Nat. Smell him. Loki was there.” “No. He hasn’t been on Earth in two years.” Shaking her head in disbelief at your close to insane theory, Natasha was quick to correct you. “Well, it felt real. And you know why this happened?” “If you’re going to say it’s because of Steve, don’t.” Ignoring Natasha, whispering conspiratorially, lest your imagined Loki overhear you, “It’s because of Steve. Somehow, Loki knows.” “We don’t even know if Loki is alive. So, him knowing that you’ve gone on one… almost date with Steve, that’s just…” Words escaped her, but a hand gesture that questioned your mental status finished her thought. Sitting back in your chair, eyeing your friend cooly, “It’s not crazy, Nat. And neither am I.” “I didn’t say you were.” “You implied it.” Mimicking her hand motion, miffed, you started typing on your phone. Why couldn’t she get it? Loki wasn’t like Steve. He wasn’t like any other man. Loki knew things, felt things, even across space and time.

After multiple failed attempts to engage you, all met with your stony silence, “I’m sorry, ok. I just… I just really don’t believe that Loki is haunting you from outer space.” Snapping open her iced tea Natasha took a long sip, “Besides, I want to know what happened with Steve.” Still concentrating on your phone, “It was fine.” “Fine? That’s it? You were on the patio for a long time.” She was teasing you now, but damn it, Natasha didn’t have to be so dismissive. “So? It was nice.” Eyes still locked on your device, you knew it was killing her, but you wanted Natasha to validate your Loki theory before you gave her any details about your date. Sighing, Natasha picked at her salad greens, “Ok. Ok. Loki is watching you from afar and he’s probably ghosting you, so you have every right to be worried.” Beaming widely, having won the battle of wills, “Thank you!” “Now, please, please, will you tell me about you and Steve?” Shifting in your seat, “He was sweet. It was all going well… until…” “Until?” “Until... Loki.” you shrugged. “Ugh." Sighing with unchecked disgust, Natasha tossed her fork down, fixing you with a hard stare. “It… it’s hard ok? I mean, I’m trying to be… open to Steve, to the idea of Steve. And, he really is so kind.” You couldn’t help blushing just a bit. He had been so awfully understanding, so real in a way that Loki had never been, that you felt a bit bad about bailing on him. Listening, Natasha could see that you were working on opening up to the super soldier, so she let you off the hook saying, “I know… I know. I’m just really pulling for you two!” Placing your hand over hers, you squeezed, “I know you are. I just… I’m not sure that I’m ready.” Natasha's face softened and she bobbed her head. Munching on her veggies, “Listen. At some point you have to get back to being yourself. I miss you. The old you. We all do.” This was news to you. “You all miss the old me? I haven’t changed.” “But you have. Look at you. Today you’re wearing grey. Yesterday, grey. The day before, black.” Pulling at your simple, comfortable, sweater, “Your point?” “You had pink hair when I met you. Remember?” Folding her arms on the table, leaning into you, Natasha was begging for you to challenge her assessment. Of course you remembered. You had dyed it yourself, but that was a different time, a different you. Coolly answering, “Well, I wasn’t Pepper’s PA then, was I?” “No… but you were still working here. Tony hired you for your ballsy attitude. Truthfully, I think that’s why Loki fell so hard for you too.” Stopping to gauge your reaction, Natasha smiled tightly, “You were so…” “Full of life.” Rich and warm, you recognized his voice without turning around. Steve swung into the free chair at your table, interrupting your conversation, gaze pointed your way. “Exactly!” Agreeing, Natasha clapped the super soldier on the back before refocusing her attention on you. “Wow.” The recently quelled anger crept back into your tone as you sassed, “Well, I guess I didn’t realize that I had become a shadow of my former self. Excuse me, Captain. Natasha. Wouldn't want to bum you out.” Unable to hide the hurt in your voice, you rose smoothly, swiftly breaking for the exit. “Wait! Will you please, just hold up a minute.” Barely jogging to your side, Steve caught up with you a little too quickly for your liking. Still raw, you bit into your bottom lip, glaring at him defiantly, “Yes Captain.” “Don’t do that, doll. Please?” “I’m not your doll.” but you did stop, turning on him, an angry glare in your clear eyes. “Fine. You’re not. I just thought…” trailing off, Steve, always unable to say exactly what you needed to hear went silent now. “You thought? What? That all of the sudden you and Nat would convince me that I don’t love Loki? That I’m a fool for waiting for him? That he’s clearly not coming back? What exactly were you thinking Steve?” fury spun out from you like smokey swirls, threatening to burn the boy down. Steve kept his cool even though you saw his jaw tighten, “No. Not that. I thought… I thought, maybe…” Running a rough hand through his blonde hair, “I thought I had a chance.” “I told you maybe, Steve. Maybe. Maybe I could…” Dropping your hands in defeat, damp eyes pleading with him silently, “There’s more to this story than you know.” “That might be true. Maybe there is some element here that I’m missing. But I know this,” closing in on you, your rump bumping into the wall behind you, “If you were mine, I would never leave you.” Impossibly near, you could smell the minty holdover of toothpaste on his breath, the clinging scent of his aftershave overwhelming your senses. Watching, waiting, Steve cupped your cheek. His touch was so soft you thought you might have imagined it. Tracing your jaw, Steve’s caress continued, those smart fingers tilting your chin up. Parting your lips, your feet moved independently of your head and heart, bringing you closer to the heat of his chest. You didn’t want to want Steve. You weren’t ready to let go of Loki, even after all this time… and yet… Steve was here. With a wide, hot hand wrapping around your waist, drawing your hips snugly against his own. Closing your eyes, feeling your way over flexing arms, you settled your flying fingers on around his ribs. Always a man of action, dipping his full mouth yours, Steve’s kiss was spun sugar light. Offering sweetness and sunshine, you rose up on your toes, meeting him more than halfway. Oh, the feeling of a strong man under your hands. Someone real, not dream or memory, but warm and solid and here. Licking over the seam of Steve’s lips, spurring him on, you sighed when his tongue tentatively tasted your own.

Cradling your face in his impossibly large hands, your need swelled at the grounding support Steve offered, eagerly matching his intensity. As he pulled away, your feminine flavor on his lips, a light of lust shone in his bright eyes. Swallowing hard, “I… I hope that was alright.” Breathless and boneless, “It was more than alright, Steve.” Twisting a lock of your hair, his knuckles brushing over your blush soaked cheekbone, “I have wanted to do that for a long time, you know?” Suddenly shy, you lowered your gaze, “I know. Sorry...” Lifting your chin once more, Steve huskily whispered, “Don’t apologize, doll. Not to me. Not to anyone.” The next morning, at your desk typing away, you weren’t really expecting America’s fiercest fighter to find you. Yet there was Steve, a checkered button up shirt stretched dangerously over his wide chest, sleeves turned up so that the enhanced veins of his wrists were on display. “Hey doll.” “Hey yourself!” Again that flustered feeling washed over you. Steve was hovering right at the edge of your space, too far away, but still shockingly close. “Captain! Great to see you! Tony’s on his way up, but maybe you’d like to wait in my office?” Pepper blew in, graceful and glowing, immediately commanding the attention of their guest. “Sure. I’ll be right there.” But he didn’t budge. In fact, Steve settled himself on the corner of your desk, crossing those impossibly muscled arms, looking you over keenly. Sitting up straighter, swiveling your chair his way, “Is there something I can do for you, Captain Rogers?” That sent one of his golden eyebrows skyward, a playful grin lighting up his face. Steve leaned into you, “A few things, actually. But let’s start with dinner. Tonight, no excuses.” Pulling himself up to his full height, imposing but impossibly charming, “Not too fancy, ok?”

Breathlessly, “Yes. Ok. Yes.”

Swinging back to your computer screen, your chair stopped, forced to stillness by Steve’s heavy hand. “Oh, and doll?” Those lips of his found yours, providing enough pressure to part your own, taking you by surprise at so public a display of affection. But how could you resist when Steve curled you close? He tasted like autumn sunshine, all warm honey and cinnamon sugar, making you melt into his kiss, oblivious to the world around you. “Steve? Oh, Captain, My Captain! Please, stop harassing the help! That’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen!” Tony chided playfully as he approached. Sighing, Steve straightened, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “Tonight. I can’t wait.”

Beaming, you bit your bottom lip, Steve’s taste still on your tongue. “See you then.” Natasha watched you, pacing nervously, worrying a hole in the rug of your apartment. “He’ll be here. Relax.” “I’m not worried about him not showing up. I’m terrified that he will.” Sitting on the edge of your couch, fiddling with the hem of your skirt, “I should cancel. This… this is all happening really fast.” “Fast?” Scoffing, Natasha sashayed into your kitchen, pulling a wine glass from the cabinets she knew so well. “I wouldn’t call your first date in two years fast. If anything, you’re moving at a snail’s pace.” Giggling at her silliness, “A snail’s pace, huh?” Handing you the overfilled goblet, laughing herself, “Yea. Or, like maybe a tortoise?” You sipped cautiously, more to keep your shirt stain free than out of worry about overindulgence, “Slow and steady wins the race, Nat.” “Then what exactly are you racing towards?” It was Natasha's innate ability to turn a question back on you that made her one of your closest friends. Somehow a calming glass of pinot was part of an existential debate on your future. What were you after? “Um… I guess, I want to feel…” words failed you. Feel. Loki had taken all of those ideals with him when he left. If you were completely honest, you weren’t sure what love looked like without the impish, mischievous man at your side. Perching on the arm of your couch, brushing over your search for the right words, “Listen. I know that you’re still… torn. But, give Steve a shot. He’s been alone too long. Just like you.” A firm knock distracted you both. “Well… how do I look?” Smoothing out your skirt, you twirled for your friend, eager to be complimented. “Great! Really great! Have so much fun tonight!” Hugging her quickly, you whispered, “I will… try. I will try. And,” stepping back to look at your thoughtful friend, “Thanks.” Another knock, steady and even as the man on the other side of the door, “No problem! Now get out there, Steve’s waiting.” Nodding once more, you almost danced to the entryway, Natasha peeking into the hall just to make sure that you didn’t falter at the last minute. She felt a small pang of guilt as you opened the door on Steve, standing there with a small bouquet of flowers, hope written across his fine features. Natasha had read the last communique from SHIELD, Fury had made sure of that. What it said, that Loki was alive, and his return to Earth was almost assured, had been running through her mind ever since. All the more reason to get you out of his clutches and into Steve’s while she still could. Just the thought that Loki might come back to claim what was his, meant that there was no way you would have taken her advice, no chance that you’d have accepted Steve’s dinner invitation. Even with his smooth skills, the super soldier knew precious little about wooing women, something Nat chalked up to years under the ice. Unlike Loki, who was as clever and quick as they come. So, Natasha was the matchmaker, the one who hatched this whole scheme. It wasn’t a role she relished but it did require the skill set she had perfected over the years. Watching, waiting, setting a baited trap, springing it at the right time.

And Natasha had executed her part to perfection as evidenced by the adorable look on your face after Steve’s impromptu kiss following your tantrum the other day. Or how he’d visited your office and made your knees weak in front of everyone, including Tony. It was all anyone could talk about. To be honest, Natasha didn’t think Steve had it in him, and yet, you were walking out the door with him, off to a night of fun and romance. “Um… Nat? Could you?” Handing over the small bundle of blossoms, Natasha took them, a satisfied smile on her face. This was going to work, she could feel it. You were already halfway gone from the looks of things and Steve had been yours since the first time he’d met you. If Loki spent another month, or, fingers crossed longer, off world, Jotunheim, Vanaheim, hell, the Forest Moon of Endor, you’d be hooked on Steve and safe from that Trickster and his shifting plans. Questioning herself, Natasha wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. The noble thing. The plain truth was she couldn’t watch you break again, not after last time. Steve wouldn’t cause that kind of hurt, he just wasn’t built that way, and that’s why she’d pulled your collective strings. Moving your pieces into play, always in your best interest, always to help, that’s what Nat told herself.

But always, deep down, she was a company girl and it was Fury who wanted to keep tight tabs on you. Without knowing the whys of Nat's scheme, he had been happy to learn about Steve's growing interest in the girl who once tamed Loki. His reasoning, as he explained to the Black Widow, was two fold.

First, knowing Steve was with you to keep you safe and under surveillance in the event that Loki contacted you was a good thing. No need to search for you while you were necking with the Captain. Second, if Loki came back needing a reminder on why he should behave, you were there as incentive… or bait, depending on the severity of the situation.

Sighing, Natasha gulped down your unfinished wine, wondering if her plan would be enough to keep you safe. Why couldn't Loki stay gone? Maybe he had moved on, just like you, and he would stay away.

Fat chance of that happening with you in play. Loki would be back. That would happen. As she placed Steve’s floral arrangement into your vase, Natasha hoped that it would be later, much later, than her reading suggested.

~ Part 2 Coming Soon!~ My Beauties: @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @vodka-and-some-sass @lots-of-loki @jamielea81 @thefallenbibliophilequote @lokislittlecorner @iamverity @crystalizedcaramel @rorybutnotgilmore @jessiejunebug @alexakeyloveloki @ahintofkiwistrawberry @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @mizfit2 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @thenatallie @wolfsmom1 @unadulteratedwizardlove @sammy-jo1977

#loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #loki x you #steve rogers x you #loki smut #steve rogers smut #mcu smut #marvel smut

270 notes · View notes

woahsehun · 3 years

Note

hi! i’d like to request a skz ship :] i’m a sag (12/02), and my hobbies are dancing, playing video games, and watching youtube. my future goal is to be a marine conservationist and work hands on w/ wild animals to preserve and protect their species. some of my (random) least favorite things are horror movies, gore, silence, roaches, heat, and overly bubbly people. some of my likes are the color lavender, led/neon lights, animals, music, steak, and potatoes. i believe my love languages are physical touch and gift giving, and i’m an infp (i think)! thank you so much in advance <3

hi! thank you for so much for the ask, and I’m sorry it took so long! <3

after much deliberation, I am deciding to pair you with hyunjin! :)

although your zodiac signs might not be the most compatible (pisces x sagittarius) I think everything else you mentioned would work well with hyunjins personality

I know all of skz love animals to some degree, but for some reason hyunjin stuck out to me here with your marine biology/conservationist interests. I could just picture, for example, if you’re doing some sort of project or sample collecting for your classes/job he would tag along. you’d be roaming the water or sand for whatever you need (idk I’m not science smart I’m sorry 😭) and he would just love to come along and paint the scenery as the day passes by. or in another instance, if you’re in a lab of sorts working he could stay nearby and draw all the creatures in the fish tanks surrounding your work <3

hyunjin’s food tastes on a base level seem to be similar so you would have that in common, and he definitely doesn’t seem the type to like roaches either so let’s hope y’all don’t have to call an exterminator ahsjjdks

lastly, love languages !!! idc what hyunjin says the way he hugged felix in that one skz cooking video 😐 man likes his hugs okay. although he may not be the most touchy person in the world I don’t think physical touch with a partner would ever make him full out cringe or anything. now gift giving is the one I really think y’all might have in common, because I have a feeling he LOVES receiving gifts (especially fashion related things). and this isn’t in a bad way or anything, I feel like it just makes him feel good and shows that you were thinking about him and it reminds him of how well you know him (if that makes sense). as far as gift giving on his side I feel like for some reason it could steer towards the direction of food aka taking you out and paying or coming home with snacks and drinks you enjoy, stuff like that. also small matching couple things lowkey. part of the skz promise ring enthusiast unit

I just had another thought okay cute here it is - since you don’t like horror movies or silence I had the thought that maybe falling asleep to a movie would be a good pass time for you both. so as it gets later and the chill movie plays on you drift off to sleep. at one point or another maybe when the credits are rolling or just when hyunjin gets bored of the movie he would reach over to the side table and carefully grab his sketchbook. then once you finally wake up, and he’s still sleeping, you pick up his sketchbook that had been pushed to his feet. once you take a closer look you realize that on the open page is a rough pencil sketch of you sleeping peacefully. (is that creepy I feel like it’s not idk I’m just soft leave me alone)

artist hyunjin x marine life conservationist for the win

anyways, once again I’m sorry it took so long, and I hope you like it!

have a great day <3 :)

#asks #ships #skz ships #stray kids ships #ship asks #woahsehun #joshuaslaugh #boyfriend hyunjin #boyfriend skz #boyfriend stray kids #kpop ships

5 notes · View notes

logical-little-lies · 4 years

Text

Coloring and Close Bonds- Agere!AU (part 42)

A/N: Hi! This is a shorter no-little-side chapter to help advance the plot. It is like, necessary to the overarching plot so...but it is cute! Platonic Virgil and Emile Rights. Anyways, the next chapter will be a filler probably focusing around little!Emile and cg!Remy, so y'all can see how I write them.

Of course, Emile suggested that they should hang out outside of work so that they could possibly be friends again. And the core sides didn't want to say no, so here they were, watching Disney.

They had to choose the thing that could trigger any of their headspace. It's like they knew and were purposely making it worse for them. It was a million times harder to repress your headspace when you were used to regressing whenever.

Roman silently cuddled into Virgil's side, Virgil wrapping his arm around him. "Not to be rude or anything, but are you two dating?" Remy asked. Virgil nodded, as if this fact was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Have been for a while," Roman scoffed.

"Sorry, we haven't been around to know..." Emile let Remy wrap his arm around him.

"Oh my god, you two are dating!" Patton realized.

"Obviously," Remy turned his head, kissing Emile's cheek softly. "And I'm assuming you and the nerd are too?"

"That nerd is my boyfriend," Patton defended.

This whole interaction heavily shifted the vibe from tense to romantic. They avoided regressing by constantly talking to their partner and being cute. It was just a coincidence that most of the sides paired off when the Neutral Sides weren't speaking with them.

They'd soon find out that there was one other similarity between the three of their relationships, and it wasn't a romantic one.

Virgil was scrolling on his phone when he heard a knock at his door. He knew that Remy and Emile were there, but he assumed they were still having their meetings. But he was proven wrong when he swung open the door to see Emile.

"Hey?" he sounded confused, subtly attempting to block his view into the bedroom due to all the baby stuff practically lying around.

"Hey! Um, I was only needed for part of the meeting...my job is a shared one, after all. Mostly there to fix conflict but there wasn't any. I was wondering if I could hang out with you until it was over?"

"Uh, sure," Virgil shrugged. He didn't dislike Emile, at all. It was just awkward, because he knew there was a point where Emile disliked him, and some part of him brain told him that those feelings were still there, and that he was only being nice because he had too.

Like he could read his anxious thoughts, Emile started to reassure him. "Me and Remy owe you a huge apology. I'm sorry that we treated you so badly when you were a dark side...we should've known to just wait until you adjusted-"

"When I first came to live here, I pushed everyone away. Including you. I treated you badly, and you got away from that." Virgil interrupted him. "But you're right, once I adjusted, everything got better. Things changed and we changed, right?"

Emile smiled. "Yeah, exactly. Apology accepted?"

"Yeah, apology accepted." Virgil smiled back at him.

"Can I come in?" Emile asked, trying to look around him.

"We can't hang out in here!" Virgil denied quickly, stepping forward and shutting his door behind him. Emile seemed shocked, and a bit hurt that he wasn't allowed, but he nodded slowly.

"You deserve privacy. We can go to the living room and do something."

Virgil nodded, following him to the commons. They both took a seat, sitting in an awkward silence until Emile attempted to start a conversation. "So...what do you like doing, Virgil?" Emile asked. Virgil thought about how to phrase his response, trying to avoid mentioning his more childish hobbies.

"I go online a lot, and I watch movies and stuff. I don't know, I just spend a lot of time with the others..." he mumbled. "You?"

"Same, mostly. I'm the therapist in the village so that's what I've been busying myself with, keeping all of Thomas's characters and figments happy and healthy. I also just spend a lot of time with Remy." Emile shrugged.

"When did you and Remy start dating? Has that been like, a long term thing or is it new?"

"Long term, I guess. We've been together for a few months," Emile tried not to go into detail here. Remy was his caregiver, and he was his, and in order to avoid mentioning that, he'd have to stick to the romantic parts of their relationship. "What about you and Roman? How did that happen?"

"Things were complicated between everyone due to the dark sides getting involved with everything, so all of us were stressed. I started spending more time with Roman and then it just kinda...happened? Logan and Patton got together just before we did..." Virgil explained. Emile smiled.

"I'm glad you guys are so happy. It's nice knowing that you guys are closer then you were before. You guys also made friends with the Dark Sides, which is cool." Emile seemed kinda tense at that, biting his lip.

"Are you- are you scared of the dark sides?" Virgil questioned.

Emile shrugged. "They're kinda mean, or at least...they were."

"They're getting better about that. I won't let them treat you or Remy badly, just don't assume that they haven't changed."

Emile nodded quickly, the two falling into silence. How come this was so awkward? "Do you have crayons and coloring books?" Emile asked.

Coloring always helped him calm down. Remy would often sit him down and have him color after throwing a fit or getting frustrated while little. It seemed like an odd punishment, but he'd calm down after a few minutes and would be able to talk to Remy about whatever happened.

He thought that maybe, if he distracted himself with coloring, talking to Virgil might be easier.

"I mean- yeah, but why?" Virgil immediately seemed skeptical, not knowing what he was planning.

"I thought it'd give us something to do besides sit in silence when we run out of things to talk about..." Emile explained. Virgil didn't know how to object that, nodding a bit.

"Okay, I'll go find them." he agreed.

He came back a few minutes later with a stack of coloring books and a box of crayons. "You guys have a lot of coloring books," Emile chuckled, moving down from the couch to the floor as Virgil cleared the coffee table, spreading out the books and setting down the box of crayons.

"There's definitely more." Virgil assured, moving to sit next to Emile on the floor.

"Why do you have so many?" he claimed a Lilo and Stitch book, flipping through it. Virgil paused, not being able to come up with words.

"Is it an anxiety thing? Because coloring helps me too," Emile suggested, after a few moments of Virgil trying to come up with an excuse. Emile realized that his question might've been a little personal.

"Y-yeah, something like that." Virgil laughed it off, picking out a book.

As they colored and gossiped, they both somewhat repressed a headspace that felt so easy to slip into. Coloring really did help the awkwardness though.

If they ran out of things to say, Emile would compliment Virgil's crayon skills and that would fade into another train of conversation. When they fell into silence, it was because they were focused on drawing, and it didn't feel weird. They remained big by talking about anything and everything. Their boyfriends, their jobs, things that have happened.

They both had to avoid any stories that involved themselves or another side being little. Little did they know, they were both hiding the same thing. Eventually they'd figure everything out, but for now, they were stuck in a loop of keeping secrets uselessly.

It was frustrating hiding the little part of their lives, but they eventually got used to Remy and Emile being around. The Dark Sides even hung out with them. For the first time in a long time, it really felt like all the sides were united. There were some tensions, sure.

Like Janus being jealous of Roman, due to the prince replacing him in his only sacred spot of being Virgil's caregiver.

Like Remus trying to adjust to his regression without Remy and Emile finding out,

Like everyone trying to hide this 'secret' from each other.

But overall, they were getting along well. Thomas was doing much better managing his love life when the whole Romance Committee was there to help. Virgil attended meetings now, he deserved to have a say in that too. Everyone sort of apologized to each other about the sides previously being so divided.

It was almost like the labels of Core, Dark, and Neutral didn't matter anymore. They were just technicalities, not barriers. Everything seemed to flow better when they worked together. How did they manage separately for so long?

Besides the working aspect, it just generally felt like everyone was getting closer. Awkwardness faded as they laughed and joked.

Patton almost felt like his family was getting bigger. It was getting bigger.

And after just a few more issues are resolved, and a few secrets are shared, that statement will become more and more true.

Let's see how those loose ends are tied up before we get to the end of the story...

#ts agere #ts littlespace #sanders sides agere #sanders sides littlespace #no little sides in this one yall

46 notes · View notes

shinsousbedroom · 3 years

Text

Stars and their Distance

Daiya no Ace misawa FWB AU, 1/10 chapters

Miyuki Kazuya, a depressed, workaholic catcher in the NPB, and Sawamura Eijun, a frustrated influencer who just got dumped, are both looking for temporary distraction. The casual, no-strings-attached friends with benefits thing they stumble into is exactly that.

Well, it would be if either of them knew how to do casual.

[Read on AO3.]

Chapter 1: Spinning

Excerpt from “Ace of Hearts: a blog about when love comes outta left field!; Q&A: Bad Break-Up Blues”

“[…] Think of relationships like this. You’re a pitcher on the mound and there’s a line up of batters waiting to knock your ball outta the park. These are your dating prospects. When you’ve gotten hurt pitching before—tore a tendon, drilled the batter, balked, whatever it was—you might not wanna pitch again, right? But the only surefire way to lose the game is to not throw the ball at all.

“You might be thinking, ‘But Eijun, if the batter hits a home run off your pitch, aren’t you losing the game?’ Well, if you think the point of the game is to win, sure. But to me, the point of baseball isn’t victory. It’s playing the best game you can with the best players you can. The same can be said for love. Some batters will foul out early, and some runners will never make it all the way home. But when you make that connection, when that bat slams the ball out of the park and the whole field feels the electric rush of a phenomenal play that you helped make—isn’t that a beautiful moment to chase after? Isn’t that feeling worth the risk that comes with love?

“So no matter how unlikely a batter steps up to your plate—and there will be batters you didn’t anticipate—throw the pitch! I promise, every strikeout and home run just makes you a better pitcher and brings you a step closer to a beautiful game. […]”

***

“Did you have to move right after the end of the season?” Kuramochi wiped off the sweat from his face with the bottom of his blue shirt. The whole thing was already drenched dark, consistently doused with water the whole day through as Kuramochi drained bottles over his head to beat back the unseasonably hot September day. “Take a fucking break first, Miyuki.”

Kazuya spat out a handful of screws. The bitter, metallic aftertaste clung to his mouth. “Why delay?” he said, tossing the instruction manual for his shelf to the side in frustration. It skittered across the hardwood floor and into Chris’ calf.

Chris plucked the booklet up and thumbed through the pages of mildly helpful pictograms, eyeing them warily against Kazuya’s clear lack of progress. “Yeah, Miyuki. Why delay?”

Kazuya shot Chris a sour look and flopped back onto the ground with a groan, defeated. “Not like we’re busy during postseason this year.”

They sighed in unison, united in the bitterness of loss.

At least Chris’ team had been only one out from the Climax Series. The Swallows hadn’t come close, and even though it was expected from a rebuild year, the loss still rankled. Small mercies, though: Kazuya could rub in the fact that the Swallows hadn’t been last place in their league unlike the Mariners.

Suck it, Kuramochi. He’d take his victories where he could.

Kazuya stuck his hand into the air, spreading his fingers wide as the overhead lights filtered between them. “Anyway. Moving is work, and you all banned me from working for the next four months. So really, I’m being responsible here.” His hand flopped down next to him with a hard thunk.

Kuramochi trudged over, heavy steps echoing through the empty apartment, until his head popped into Kazuya’s vision, arms crossed and scowl fierce. “If you wanna try to fight this again, just give me a fucking reason to pin you into a headlock until you’re crying for mercy.”

Kazuya grabbed at his ankle, rolling onto his stomach for a second swipe as Kuramochi danced out of reach.

“You can’t pull a fast one on the cheet—AH!”

His ankles caught the edge of the shelf boards, knocking Kuramochi onto his ass. The wooden slats scraped across each other as they slid out of their neat stacks, thumping and scratching the floor until they were criss-crossed between Kazuya cackling into the floor on his stomach and Kuramochi, shocked and sprawled across the debris.

“Fucking build your furniture, Miyuki!” He cradled his foot in his hands, holding it up to inspect as he twisted it every which way. “We’re not doing the same thing as last time, when it took you a full year to finally put all your shit together.”

The weight of apathy slid back into Kazuya’s limbs, edging out the laughter that had given him a moment of relief. “What if I just didn’t?”

“Is that what you want?” Chris replied evenly.

He lolled his head towards Chris. Despite the heat, Chris had spent all day in a black turtleneck, never once hinting he was even mildly uncomfortable even at the peak of the day’s heat, lugging in heavy boxes from the sun-warmed streets. Now sitting on the floor among bubble wrap and crumpled paper, legs kicked out in front of him and waves of brown bangs framing his face, he still looked as wholly put together as ever.

Even when Kazuya knew beyond a doubt Chris was the epitome of keeping a stone face even when he was going through the worst of it, he still couldn’t help but be jealous.

Kazuya went back to staring at the unfamiliar gray tiles on his new ceiling. “It would be pretty funny to leave my apartment unfurnished to spite Kuramochi.”

“Finish the shelf.” Chris tossed the manual back.

“Kominato’s the one who left the task half-done,” Kazuya said, closing his eyes, overwhelmed in a sudden wash of fury and helplessness.

He opened his eyes to see Kuramochi and Chris hovering above him again. Both their brows were furrowed, Kuramochi’s fist clenched at his collar, Chris frowning mildly.

“I’m fine,” Kazuya said brusquely.

They glanced at each other, then back at Kazuya.

He sat up, forcing the other two to reel back to avoid knocking their heads together. “I’m 27, not 7,” he said, testily. “I don’t need to be put under a watch, I’m a grown ass adult.”

“We aren’t gonna—we can’t sit to the side and watch you nearly kill yourself from overwork again this off-season.”

“Don’t exaggerate—“

“You said you had it together last year, but you didn’t. So you’re getting strict rules this year,” Kuramochi tugged at his hair, a frustrated sneer on his face. “The Swallows and your agent both know not to let you pile on more than your bare minimum until preseason. And the rest of us are going to check on you regularly because we care about your health, even when you don’t. Got it?”

“It’s not overwork,” he said, falling into the same argument that had been chipping away at him for a year now.

“Then what is it?”

The only coping mechanism that works. The only way I can pretend to feel anything off the diamond. The only thing that makes me tired enough to sleep at night without baseball 24/7.

He settled on: “It’s just work. Making a living, some might say.”

“Hard to do that when you’re stuck in a hospital bed.”

“That won’t happen again. I was just stressed and tired and a bad day caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, it won’t again because we’re gonna help make sure the off-season doesn’t wreck you again after a long history of hiding your fucking problems until they explode.”

“At least you can’t take conditioning away from me.”

“Follow the plan your trainers set for you.” Chris’ voice cut into Kazuya’s stubbornness. “Please don’t joke about this with me.”

After a moment, Kazuya nodded his head, brusque.

Kuramochi rubbed the back of his neck, trying to break the awkward air that had sprung up between them. “Isn’t exercise supposed to help depressed people? Boost your serotonin up or some shit like that?”

“Just my luck it doesn’t,” Kazuya muttered. He cleared his throat. “Can we go back to harassing me about how bad I am at unpacking?”

“We wouldn’t harass you if you just did it.” Kuramochi stood back up and kicked at a box as he went back to sweeping the floors. “Unpack before the season starts up again. You have nearly five months. If you’re feeling feisty, try decorating your apartment, too.”

“My entire personality is baseball. I don’t care about interior design. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“You used to. Pick up your old hobbies. Bring out that telescope you had at back at Waseda. Read a memoir. All the shit you can’t do during the season, drag ‘em out into the open again.”

The wrong answer, he knew, was to reiterate that he didn’t care about any of that anymore. Seriously. “You two are busy-bodies.”

Chris handed him the power drill then returned to the pile of securely wrapped glass kitchenware. “It’s called friendship,” he said, bubble wrap crinkling.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Just try, Miyuki. Please.”

“Sure,” he said, flippantly, knowing the lie didn’t pass unnoticed from the sag in Kuramochi’s shoulders. He thumbed through the instructions, pushing aside the guilt welling into his throat. Kazuya needed this conversation to be over. “Chris-senpai, where’d you put the drill bits?”

***

“Hjnhbgfgvbhnjmknjbhgvfdbghnjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj” wasn’t the most eloquent start to Eijun’s next blog post. Of course, Eijun normally didn’t start his articles by rolling his face across the keyboard in frustration, but considering how little he’d written in the past week, this was as good a draft as any.

Eijun’s eyes flung open as the laptop shifted from under his face, tipping his head off to thunk into the table. He rubbed at his forehead, and blinked up to find Harucchi tapping delicately at the keyboard while the other hand balanced the device in the air. “Eijun-kun,” said Harucchi, peering from around the screen, “not your finest work.”

Eijun sat up and scowled, the lines of his face scrunching against the keyboard indents on his skin. “What would you know about it?”

“I’ve been editing your posts for years,” Harucchi said. He settled the laptop in front of Eijun, then settled into the chair across from him. “If you’d like me to stop now, I can happily use that time in other ways.”

The dishes rattled when Eijun slammed his palm onto the table. “You’re not allowed to ditch me like that!”

Harucchi raised his eyebrows. “Says the man who’s been avoiding me.”

A double blow of panic and then confusion struck him. He frowned and swiveled his head around. Snaking line at the counter, coffee scenting the air, a low hum of incomprehensible chatter: this was definitely the coffee shop he’d just discovered this morning and came to by himself and didn’t tell Harucchi about. “How’d you find me?”

“You should stop posting your location on Instagram if you don’t want to be found,” he offered with a gentle smile.

“You don’t live anywhere near here.”

“A teammate just moved to the neighborhood. It was pure luck I happened to be there while you happened to be here.” He ran his fingers against the edge of a plate by Eijun’s elbow, empty of all but crumbs. “It’s a cute shop. New haunt for you?” he asked, a touch too casual.

Eijun averted his eyes, lips pinching. He knew what Harucchi was really asking. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“I’m doing fine,” Eijun insisted. “Really.”

“I’m glad you stopped feeling obligated to go to the other cafe.” His voice was barely loud enough to reach Eijun, covered by the clatter and call of employees, and a particularly rowdy group of seven students packed at a four person table next to his little corner.

“The old place got too many baristas who sucked,” Eijun lied. As if Harucchi didn’t already know that he’d only just shoved his pride aside enough to accept he’d lost his favorite coffee shop to the break-up. “Had to find a new one.”

Harucchi pried open the plastic lid to his coffee, blowing at the steam rising from the cup. He drew in a long, slow slip of his drink. “Maybe a fresh start here means a fresh start with the blog. Talk about grinding new beans, or something…?” Eijun blanched, well aware that Harucchi’s innocent reputation was a front.

“If you think I am going to subject my loyal followers to love advice using bean grinding as the topic—”

“You’ll have to excuse me if you had an idea in mind already. I’d thought from the keysmashing that you hadn’t.” Eijun aimed a kick at his shin under the table. Without looking, Harucchi crossed his legs, as if he’d planned on it for that exact moment all along instead of the attempt to dodge Eijun’s ire that it really was. “Is there a reason you can’t find an appropriate topic for your next post?”

Eijun cheeks puffed out, determined for two whole seconds not to tell Harucchi the truth, before blurting out, “I promised Wakana we’d wait a few months before officially announcing we broke up.” And yep—there it was, that classic Kominato passively skeptical look that circled past nonjudgmental so thoroughly that it ended up aggressively intimidating. The one that meant Harucchi was seconds away from bulldozing through all the nonsense he was seeing ahead of him. Eijun lived in terror of it. “She wanted to give us a chance to recuperate in private first,” he muttered, defensive.

“Eijun-kun.”

“I know, I know! A smart idea for people like Wakana, but I don’t…like wallowing like this. I can’t keep sitting here thinking about how much she doesn’t want me, and it’s all I want to write about. But I can’t post any of it. It’s been nearly two months, and I haven’t moved on. I’ve just gotten madder.”

“You two didn’t consider posting a small announcement saying you were over but you needed time? Space?”

“I couldn’t ask her.” Eijun subsided, spinning his teacup in its saucer with a single finger hooked through its tiny handle. “I owe her, Harucchi. The only reason I started lifestyle and romance blogging was because Wakana got me into it. I made my start on her profiles with her followers. Talking about her now? Why we broke up? Even if I want to, it sounds like betraying her. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to talk shit about her, when we’re both in the same influencer circles.”

Harucchi tilted his head, and when Eijun didn't continue on after several seconds, he prompted, “There’s more.”

So much for the dumb jock stereotype.

“If I write it, then I feel like I’m giving up on her. On us ever being something together, again.” He crossed his arms onto the table, elbows shoving the dishes and laptop uncomfortably close to the edge of the small table, and laid his head on his forearms. He closed his eyes, and said quietly into his chest, “I still love her, Harucchi.”

“I know, Eijun-kun.” A warm hand squeezed his elbow. Between their silence, the monstrous table of college students packed up and left, and suddenly the shop settled into a calm Eijun needed.

He poked his head up from the comfort of his arms to stare at Harucchi. He was steadily sipping his coffee, one hand resting on Eijun’s elbow. His pink hair had pulled out of the bun at his nape and fell into windswept wisps framing his face and neck. He’d long since stopped wearing Ryou-san’s hand-me-downs in favor of softer, luxe sweaters and slacks, the only true expense he indulged in despite his lucrative status as a rising star for the Swallows.

Altogether, he looked gentle, dangerously so. On the diamond or off, it was easy to be lulled into a sense of security right before he whacked an unpleasant truth out of the park.

Harucchi pulled his hand back and apologized with a glance. Eijun wasn’t sure why…until he started speaking. “You make a living off of posting about your life—and romance, in particular. You’ve never hidden your past relationship troubles from your followers, however difficult it was to express. It’s part of your brand at this point.”

Eijun’s mouth twisted as he sat up. “Wakana isn’t a branding tool.”

“No one is saying that,” Harucchi said patiently. “What I am saying: you underestimate how much of your own work goes into your success. Aotsuki was certainly helpful—but your personality and your words are why people stay. People trust you.

“You’re good at what you do, Eijun-kun. You’re honest and kind in your observations, to yourself, to your partners, to strangers, despite how difficult and personal love is. When the time comes, whatever you post about Aotsuki will be the same.” Harucchi shrugged. “Also, I’ll edit out anything that makes you sound insensitive.”

Eijun let out a heavy sigh, stretching his arms into the air and shaking off the melancholy. “Thanks for not letting me fall on my own sword.”

“What are friends for?”

For all that he felt better, though, Eijun was still stuck staring at a blinking cursor at the end of a line of drivel. “That still doesn’t solve my problem. I don’t have a clue what to post next. The schedule I followed is trash now without personal updates of me and Wakana. I haven’t been able to binge any of the manga or shows I wanted to review, either. All I got left is the advice column, but if I keep that up with nothing else, I might as well change the blog name to Dear Eijun instead of Ace of Hearts.”

Harucchi stared at him, calculating out something as he took in Sawamura’s restlessness. “You don’t have to keep writing about romance.”

“That’s what I started the blog for.”

“But that’s not why you started writing and recording back at Seidou. You’ve had success with your baseball analysis and tutorials on YouTube and Instagram. You could even say you’ve been neglecting them to chase after romance.”

Eijun groaned, loud and theatrical enough to make the meek businessman behind him jump in shock. “Maybe if I got as much engagement talking about how stupid the idea of celebrity athletes are when it’s a team sport—”

“See?” he cut in, tilting his cup toward Eijun. “You already have a topic to post about.”

“Baseball is my hobby, not my job,” he said mulishly, jaw jutting out. “My dad wrecked his love of music that way! I’m not gonna risk hating baseball after he spent my whole life yelling at me not to ‘monetize my interests’ while holding me in a headlock. That’s asking for the biggest lecture of my life!”

“You can always stop if it’s not the direction you want to go. You’re not getting married to the idea.”

“Don’t bring up marriage, I just got dumped!”

Harucchi pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Fine, don’t think of it as a marriage,” he said. From Harucchi, the sliver of impatience he let free was the equivalent of hauling Eijun by the collar and shaking him down. “Flirt with baseball. Go on a few dates. Get a benefit or two out of it. Does the metaphor suffice now?”

Eijun gasped. “Harucchi! You’re too innocent for that sort of talk!”

“My brother is Kominato Ryousuke, and my best friend writes a blog about romance and sex that I edit,” he said, even as his quiet voice went squeaky and his face mottled bright red from embarrassment.

“Maybe I should change my blog to save you the embarrassment.”

“I also admit I have a request of you,” Harucchi said sheepishly, pressing a hand to his cheek. “The Swallows want me to get more heavily involved in PR this offseason, and I could use your help figuring out what I’d actually like to do instead of going along with every idea they propose. I’ve seen what they make the other players do, and I’m not interested in doing the exact type of promo they’ve done the past few seasons.”

Eijun crossed his arms and leaned back, chin tilting up defensively. “If you’re trying to convince me by pretending you need help—”

Harucchi shook his head, bangs bouncing across his forehead. “I hope you’ll find value or inspiration in it, too, but I was going to ask, regardless.” He grimaced into his cup. “The players who carry most of the strain of Swallows marketing are…otherwise occupied this offseason. I was volunteered to step in; management’s been wanting me to raise my profile for a while. I can’t really say no, so I may as well make the most of it.”

“I don’t want a pity job.”

“Please, be reasonable.” Harucchi smiled the shy, dreamy, polished smile the Swallows had been trying to splash across their advertising since he joined the team. “It’s a pity favor.”

Eijun snorted, relaxing into his chair again. “Fine,” he said, pulling open a clean document on his laptop. “Let’s brainstorm.”

#daiya no ace #daiya no a #misawa #daiya no ace fanfic #lolo's fic writing tag

9 notes · View notes