#he’s got twenty photos in his wallet

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that becomes your walking purse…

it started off with small things when you two went out for groceries or lunch. he found out what brand of chapstick you use and bought an ‘emergency’ one to keep in his back pocket. lo and behold, when you complain you left yours at the apartment he casually pulls out the one he bought - the same flavor yours is because he likes hearing you say, “I wish I could eat this.”

Roommate!Simon Riley that, after the success of the emergency chapstick, buys a tube of your favorite lip gloss and a small pack of hair ties - he has one on his wrist, but you always say they tend to disappear. so he shoves those into his back pocket with the chapstick

Roommate!Simon Riley that digs through your purse when you step away to use the bathroom so he can clock what you typically carry - proud and pleasantly surprised to see pepper spray, smart girl. he opens his phone and types away in his notes app, marking down brands and taking photos of items if you picked the label off

Roommate!Simon Riley that suddenly starts carrying your wallet for you - a couple twenties slipped in while you weren’t looking, says you can leave your purse at home because he has everything you need. front and back pockets a little fuller with the items you’re familiar with. he ditched the extra hair ties to save room, three donning his wrist instead of one, two bobby pins slipped across them - to maximize his pocket space

Roommate!Simon Riley that uses this as an excuse to always go out with you and have you stick by his side, “Don’t wander off, I’ve got your stuff.”. his lips quirked up slightly under his mask knowing this is also an excuse to pay for you, your wallets not getting much use anymore. Simon Riley just wants to be needed and provide for his little roommate, what would you do without him?

[heartfullofleeches]

fake pizza boy yan developed a concerning taste for seeing darling eating his cum after that first encounter and starts bringing a variety of menu items with “ranch dips” and “vanilla shakes”. plenty of visual material to keep the supply up for his next “delivery” and he is definitely not spiraling into crisis just because the only thing that gets him hard for his other shoots is the mental image of darling stuffed full of his—

(Slapping these two together since they have a similar premise)

Yan Adult Film Star Pizza Boy + Reader [18+]

[Masterbation, Food Play]

-

"Come on..... Come on....."

Twenty minutes till deadline. Since the beginning of his career he stuck to a strict schedule. A simple routine to get the ball rolling as he dipped his toes in the new venture. Now that he had so many eyes on him and his content, Brie was able to take more breaks in between filming, but at this point it had been almost two weeks since he posted anything at all.

He tried everything. His hands. Toys. Videos. Brie even thought about buying pills at one point, but gaining an erection wasn't the hard part of his situation. His viewers were into a lot of things - but if there was one thing that really got their wallets open for him it was when he painted the nearest surface to him with a heavy load of his release. His donations would be flooded with comments from his hands how they wished to be his desk or pillows - or for the opportunity to lick said object clean.

Kind of like how you licked your fingers clean on the day he first met you.

The brief flicker of your face in his mind made his aching length jump in his spit stained palm. The encounter he had with you was all that he could think about anymore. He was obssessed - The innocent confusion as you opened the front door, the genuine gratitude in your expression as you handed him some cash for all his troubles and the free meal. Brie would pay anything to see you sample his sauce again. The way your eyes lit up as the flavor registered on your tongue-

"Mmh....."

What he wouldn’t give to have those lips wrapped around him. If you liked what he gave you so much what better than to get it straight from the source, right? The slick sound of friction grows louder as his hand moves quicker - eyes scanning every corner of his room for more fuel for his fantasies. He wish he had kept the photos he found of you online on screen, but he feared loosing that knot of pleasure twisting at his insides if he took his focus off the task at hand for any reason.

His eyes fall on the drink cup from the takeout he picked up earlier in the day. A boring Styrofoam cup with no clear ties to any restaurant would be the perfect container to bring you another item off the menu. The peach tea he had earlier would be a dead giveaway for any tampering. He needed something thicker, ideally with a creamy texture.

A milkshake.

Who wouldn't enjoy a nice, refreshing shake after pizza? You surely had to be thirsty after eating all that bread. Brie fisted his cock to the image of you on your knees beneath his table - hands gripping the meat of his thighs as your mouth hung open awaiting your treat. You'd look so cute under him like that - his fans would absolutely love you-

A surge of jealousy strengths his grip. Nobody should get to see you like that but him. Those perverts could fotk over their life savings and it wouldn't be enough for Brie to share you with them. Maybe the occasional stream with the two of you couldn't hurt - your face held against his pelvis as he stuffed that pretty throat so nobody could see anything but his cock slipping past your perfect lips.

"Ah.... Y/n...." It's the first time he's said your name. The first time he's let his imagination run this wild. He makes a mental note to cut it out during editingthe. Brie swipes the camera off his desk, angling it better towards his lap and the empty floor below him. He then makes a grab for the empty cup - popping off its lid as he positions the container between his legs. They tremble - barely holding into the styrofoam without crushing it as Brie spits - whimpering as he coats his girth in another layer of his saliva. For a fleeting moment he can perfectly picturing the warmth dripping down his cock as your own - and that's all it takes for him to come undone.

Brie cries out your name with a shakey breath, clutching the edge of his desk for stability as his upper body lurches forward, pouring ropes upon ropes of his spend in the general direction of the cup. It's too much- With it being so long since the last time he came, this hard - tears stab at the corners of his eyes as he shutters, nails peeling chipping at the polished finish of his desk. He misses his intended target at first go, thighs glistening with cum as he hurriedly fixes the cup to catch the remainder.

Brie takes a long pause to catch his breath before wipping off his camera lense, posing with a shakey thumb up as he holds the cup for all to see.

"Shake's ready- Guess it's about time I make another delivery~"

-

"And here you are, one milkshake on the house. We're always trying out new things in the kitchen and like to reward our loyal customers by letting them sample new items first."

Swirling your straw through the thick slurry, you take another sip with a satisfied hum. "Hm. You said this was salted caramel, yeah?"

The delivery boy snaps back to attention - seemingly lost in thought as you gulp down the shake. "Y-yes. That's right- Your thoughts?"

"It's pretty damn good, actually. Been getting kinda hot these past couple of nights so this is just what I needed right about now."

Brie bites down hard on his bottom lip as you place the cool styrofoam against your bare neck, condensation running down to your chest.

"I forgot to ask the last time I can, but my boss finds it really helpful if I get some pictures of satisfied customers to put up. Would you mind if I took a couple of you right now?"

[little-cereal-draws]

More incorrect quotes

Odysseus: Could you maybe just like… stab me… right in the gut. Just REALLY twist it in there. ‘Cause that honestly seems less painful than this conversation.

-

Odysseus: Hey I got you food, pick a number between 1 and 10. Eurylochus: Uh 4? Odysseus: Wrong, no food for you. Eurylochus: Wait what?! WHY?! ODYSSEUS PLEASE—!

-

Odysseus: I wish I had acid. Thank you, Hermes. Amen.

-

Odysseus, when his crew accuses him of hubris after he gives his name to the cyclopes: Oh and for your information, I don't have an ego! Odysseus: My facebook photo is a landscape.

-

Penelope: I love murder mysteries Odysseus, trying to impress her: I've been a suspect in four murder cases

-

Odysseus: I'm not a morning person. I'm barely even a person.

-

Odysseus: Met a dumbass today. Awful. Eurylochus: You looked in a mirror? Odysseus: Someday you will have to answer for your actions and god may not be so merciful.

-

Odysseus: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

-

Odysseus: I would say I feel sorry, but we all know that I've done much, much worse

-

Odysseus: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture. His crew: Awwww- Odysseus: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything." His crew: Oh.

-

Odysseus: It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sort of happens. You've got to admit though, fire is fascinating.

-

Odysseus, after giving his name to the cyclopes: Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions.

-

Odysseus at the 108 suitors trying to marry his wife: Clownery. Tomfoolery. Absolute fuckery, I am going to revoke your life privileges.

This is one isn’t very in character but it made me laugh so hard

Odysseus: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Penelope made me get tested.

[gojossocks]

Pathetic

Pairing: AU!Sukuna x reader Genre: angst Content: the title says it all, pathetic ‘kuna core. Sukuna cockblocked himself because he's afraid of commitment :DD a bit of gojo x reader at the end bc y/n deserves love. Wc: 1.2k

“Stop being so pathetic.” He had declared, his words cutting through the air like shards of ice.

But you, ever resolute, had refused to let his harshness deter you. Sukuna knows how much his sentence has hurt you. Your hands were trembling as you reached his, desperately seeking connection. Tears glistened in your eyes, your voice was quivering but you smiled at him through your blurred vision.

“We could work it out right, ‘Kuna?” you implored, your voice soft yet it held so much weight. “Please talk to me. I don’t need anything else! I just need you. We don’t have to get married or anything. I am content just being with you. I love you.”

Sukuna’s gaze remains distant, his eyes fixed on the table behind you. He isn’t looking at you anymore. His response was dispassionate and void of the warmth he used to give you. “It’s not that. I just don’t love you anymore, Y/N.”

He watched you break and he watched you swallow your sobs as you clutched his hand tighter. “That’s okay,” you whispered, your voice desperate, barely more than a breath. “You loved me once, I could make you do it again. Tell me what to change and I’ll change for you, love.”

“I don’t care. I’m leaving.” He pulled his hand away, leaving you alone in your once shared bedroom. He still remembered the sounds of your sobs down the hallway as he walked out of your life.

Sukuna was always sure of himself that day he left you. He had said it so indifferently, so carelessly, as if he didn’t spend years being loved by you. He thought he moved on quite easily— bouncing from one woman to another, getting drunk on his own success, and wasting the rest of his twenties on meaningless connections. The hollowness of it all continued to haunt him.

It’s been half a decade trying to ignore the ache that has been gnawing at his heart. And it wasn’t until he saw you again did the gravity of his actions finally catched up to him.

It was supposed to be your anniversary and Sukuna finds himself pathetically walking into the places you once walked with him. He claimed he forgot about you but his feet always drag him to the remnants of you every year, without fail. He convinced himself it was just a mere coincidence that he walked to the same park where he first hugged you, how you fit right into his arms like you were made exactly for him. He finds himself dining in the restaurant you love so much, and he wonders if you still go there to order your favorite food.

He didn’t want to lay on his bed because he would think about how you used to run your hands through his hair when he’s upset or stressed. He would think about the warmth and comfort radiating out of you when he pulls you closer to him.

He told himself he had forgotten about you when he still hadn't thrown away the polaroid of the two of you, smiling softly as you kissed his cheeks. It was still in his wallet and he never bothered to change the photo. He remembers the way you clung to his arm, excitedly pointing out the changing leaves as autumn envelops the weather. He called you an idiot but you scrunch your nose at him and pulled him to a kiss. He remembers you dragging him into a movie theater to watch a cheesy romantic comedy. He got bored midway but he stayed anyway because he didn’t like seeing the pout on your face.

And he couldn’t rid what you had left him despite not taking any of your belongings when he left. He finds you in his morning coffee, how he drinks it with creamer and sugar because you told him it tasted better. He still gets your favorite laundry detergent every time he shops and he still folds his shirts the way you taught him to.

He thinks of you every sunrise, you once told him it’s a privilege to see the sun come alive right before your eyes and he stays up until morning just so he could pretend he’s seeing it with you.

Why is he mourning over a person who is very much alive?

He lets himself wonder if you think about him too, if you’ve forgiven him. His hands itch to call you to apologize or to ask to see you. He stops himself every time.

In the first year of your break up, he scrolled through your social media accounts to catch a glimpse of your life. You blocked him on everything the following year.

He drowned himself in his vices once more to numb that void you left. And once the party’s over, he would return to his empty mansion, clutching the only relic he has of you— the sweater you left at his place. It didn’t have any traces of your favorite perfume anymore yet he still hung on to it. In those moments, he allowed himself to regret his decision.

What would his life turn out if he told you what was on his mind?

It finally dawned on him when he saw you that day. You were still as radiant and you were smiling just as bright. You still looked like the same woman he walked away from years ago. The same woman he still loves. Only, you looked happier, your joy evident in every step you took. Sukuna watched you emerge from your favorite cafe, holding your coffee in one hand, a ring on your finger. The sight sent a shiver down his spine.

In your arms, cradled tenderly, was a child. Sukuna knew without a doubt that he was yours, the same eyes that had once held his heart were now reflected in your son’s eyes. White strands adorned your son’s hair, and Sukuna suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He had never entertained the thought that he would ever see you with someone who wasn’t him. But now, as he stood there, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had no place in your life anymore.

You had settled down and gotten married to none other than Gojo Satoru.

He watched as your husband approached you, whispering something in your ear that made you giggle and smile harder. He watched as Gojo brushes your hair out of your face, taking your son from your arms so he could hold your hand.

Sukuna watched as Gojo Satoru gave you everything he couldn’t.

It felt like the gods were mocking him. And oh how Sukuna knew he messed up when he saw how you looked at Gojo the way you used to look at him.

It was supposed to be him.

He turned and walked away again before you could see him, paying his last respect to your own peace and happiness. Every step he took felt like daggers into his heart.

It’s pathetic, isn’t it?

wanna read more?

[harveywritings92]

[PART 2 OF THIS]

[After R/n’s calamitous phone call attempt to Simon, she ran a good five blocks before she felt safe enough to breath and think of a plan.]

R/n, sitting on a curb: okay...okay, I really regret not going to the gym with Si now....Shit!

{She swallows hard and looks behind her, the people chasing her were probably a two blocks away that only gave her small window of time.}

R/n: Okay, R/n. You managed to get, ah... Some distance from the guys chasing you, that’s the first thing Simon you told to do...Now next would be to find a place to hide, too bad it’s too freaking sunny out to do so!

R/n: And I can’t hide in plain sight since they know what clothes I’m wearing...

{R/n looks around and recognizes what street she’s on, there was goodwill shop across the street from her, she quickly got up and ran inside; knowing the van was probably around the block.]

R/n: Okay...they’re finding me a bit fast for comfort...

(R/n thinks and looks at her purse/mini-backpack...Could there be a tracker in it? she didn’t dwell on it too long, R/n quickly grabbed some pants a large hoodie, a hat and neck gaiter. she quickly ditched her old clothes and bag; taking just her wallet with her. R/n practically threw the money at the confused clerk as she speed walked passed the checkout.]

Clerk: Wait! ma’am, your change!

R/n, not looking back: Keep it! 

(R/n pulls the hood and neck gaiter up and walks out the back. she exits the alley in time to see the van pull up and two men rush into the good will. the y/ht(your height), woman knew they were not gonna be happy when they find R/n was long gone, and with that R/n calmly walked away towards a more populated area and hopefully she can get ahold of a phone so she can get through to Ghost this time!)

(Meanwhile)

[Ghost and the rest of the 1-4-1 arrived to his house, which was completely trashed, Ghost looked around his livingroom frowning under his mask as he found his wedding photo on the floor. it wasn’t some grand fancy event,  just a small court house wedding with your parents/guardian and couple of your friends, Ghost stomach churned at the memory.

Despite him being the one who proposed in the first place, Simon had tried to talk R/n outta of it...He warned her, he warned her that if they went through with it; R/n would be a walking target, she wouldn’t have a normal life anymore and yet... She still said yes.)

Soap, as he looks at the photo over Ghost’s shoulder: Steamin’ Jesus, he wasn’t fookin wit’ me, he really is married!...(to Price.) Did ye know?

Price: I knew he had a wife. That’s about it, Ghost doesn’t really speak about his home life much.

[Then everyone looked around the house it was clear someone was looking for something...and judging how a good number of Ghost and R/n’s valuables were left out on the dining room table, they were probably coming back...or. 

*The stairs creaked* 

They never left...Everyone freezes as a young man in his late teens to early twenties dressed all in black comes walking down the stairs; talking loudly. He probably assumed the 1-4-1 were his buddies coming back for him and their loot.]

Robber, while holding R/n’s jewelry box: Jeez, you guys took yer sweet time how hard is it to catch a woma...*Sees the group of giant armed men staring at him.* ...aaan?

Ghost: Don’t you fucking move...

[the Robber throws the box at them and tries to bolt out the backdoor! He gets clotheslined by Gaz who was camping around the corner. Cut to the kid being tied to a chair as Ghost stands over him menacingly]

Ghost, cracking his knuckles: Now...Let’s get acquainted shall we?~

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 1)

Summary: After one of the reader's last concerts of the year, she unexpectedly runs into notorious playboy Dean Winchester, quarterback of the LA Wolves. Only Dean's a big fan and he seems to want more than just a photo if given the chance...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: I promise there'll be more Dean and reader interacting in person next part! Needed to set the scene with this!

_________

You groaned the second you were alone. You’d survived the summer tour but you were exhausted. All you wanted was a greasy hamburger, chicken nuggets, and to sleep for a month. After changing into a pair of joggers and oversized hoodie, you texted your bodyguard Eric, telling him you wanted to get out of there quietly. He knocked twice on your dressing room door before entering with a smile.

“Great show tonight,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Eric grabbing your backpack for you. 

“Like you pay attention to anything besides harassing the security team,” you said, resting your forehead against his strong chest. “I never want to tour again. I’m so tired.”

“You’re just cranky cause you’re hungry and need sleep,” he said rubbing your back. “You only have two more shows this year and then we can sit on the couch eating cookies and binging divorce court.”

“This is why I keep you around, buddy,” you laughed, taking a deep breathe before looking up. “Speaking of food-“

“Let’s get you out of here and full of some chicken nuggies.”

“Back in five,” you said to Eric thirty minutes later, your wallet in hand and panic button in your pocket. He let you go out without it sometimes but not after a show and especially not when you were in the press so much lately. 

It was nearly midnight as you walked into the nearly empty McDonald’s, a guy in a hoodie at the counter with his back to you. 

“Hi,” you said, stepping up to the other register. “Can I get a quarter pounder with cheese, a medium fry and a twenty piece chicken nugget with barbecue sauce? Oh and a bottle of water.”

You paid, the girl behind the counter staring at you like she recognized you but was too nervous to say anything.

“Holy shit,” said a male voice. You glanced left, the man in the hoodie pushing it down to reveal him in a black baseball cap. He was incredibly handsome and had such pretty green eyes. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him but you couldn’t place it. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N…and apparently you eat like a linebacker.”

“Dance on stage for three hours every night and you would too,” you said, the man humming.

“Do you mind if I get a pic?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you said, the man handing his phone to the girl behind the counter who eagerly took a few. He was practically giddy when he got his phone back, a bag of food coming out for him.

“Thanks for indulging me,” he said. You noticed a few strands of confetti on top of his hat and smiled. He must have been at the concert. He almost walked away and out the door when he spun around, parting his lips. “Can I give you my number?”

“Sure,” you said again. It was much safer to just take the number and hand it off to Eric to do a background check on the person than try a rejection. The man scribbled it down on the back of your receipt, your cashier now acting as his wing woman and making sure he had a pen.

“I uh, hope to hear from you soon,” he said, flashing you a wink before leaving. You eased when he was gone, the girl at the counter handing you your bag of food after a moment. 

“He’s so hot, isn’t he?” she said, your eyebrows raising. Not the reaction you were expecting from her.

“Mhm. Thanks for the food. Have a good night,” you said, quickly leaving. You ducked outside, Eric waiting in the backseat for you. 

“Any trouble?” he asked, nodding to the man farther down the parking lot, slipping into a large SUV.

“Just a fan,” you said, handing him the paper with the guys number. He gave you a side eye as he took it from your fingers. “He was harmless.”

“I’ll check it out to be sure,” he grumbled, stealing a fry from your bag. “Did you get me-“

“Yes I got you your nuggets,” you said, Eric relaxing back into his seat. Your driver headed for home and in twenty minutes you were on your couch chowing down. Eric was at the kitchen counter, lazily scrolling through his phone, probably grateful that you were secure in the house for the night.

You watch his eyes go wide, gaze shooting to you.

“I swear I didn’t do anything.” You kept eating your burger, Eric silently watching you. “Dude, you’re freaking me out.”

“That fan from McDonald’s posted the pic of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes and got up, sulking over to him.

“Oh tell me he’s not some whack job.”

“He’s Dean Winchester,” he said, showing his phone to you. You shrugged, walking back to the couch. “Dean Winchester? NFL quarterback? Three time Super Bowl winner?”

You stared at him, Eric groaning. 

“He’s the quarterback for the LA Wolves…he went to Kansas State the same time you did, Y/N. You probably went to his football games.” He rolled his eyes at you. “How do you not realize you’re taking a picture with a sports legend?”

“I must have missed it with all my free time over the past dozen years with all the touring and ten albums and other shit in my life. And frankly you’re the one that told me it doesn’t matter who it is, I need to be careful of everyone, whether they’re famous or not.” He sighed, putting his phone away.

“Alright, I get your point,” he said, returning to eating. “Dude’s kind of a player anyways it seems like. Nice guy but I know you’re more the sensitive guy type.”

“Emotionally available,” you corrected, plopping down on the couch once more. “Why would you think he’s into me anyways? Plenty of people are fans without wanting to get in my pants.”

“Well, it’s Dean Winchester so he definitely wants in your pants,” he joked. “Also the caption, genius.” 

You quirked your eyebrow, Eric tossing his phone over to you. You pouted when you went back to the post, actually reading it this time.

DWinchester67 Y/N Y/L/N Saturday Night Concert at the Wolves stadium. AMAZING TIME with the crew. Worth getting ragged on by the boys all week for taking them to the show just to see them belt their hearts out to #FinishLine (video soon)

Then had the awesome luck to snag a pic with Y/N grabbing a midnight snack. I was dying on the inside at meeting my crush. Sorry for being awkward when you were trying to get your grub on. Next time it’s on me ;)

Your eyes met Eric’s when you finished, his chicken nuggets nearly gone. 

“Yeah, like no reason he’s into you, right?” smirked Eric. You grumbled, returning to your late night dinner. “I’ll background check that number in the morning.”

“He’s a player that wants to have sex. Don’t bother with the background work. He’s harmless.”

“As you wish, princess,” he said with a little bow, earning himself being hit in the face with your balled up burger wrapper. “The abuse I put up with. Tsk tsk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your generous benefits package,” you said, Eric chuckling as he double checked the back doors were locked one last time. “Eric…”

“Mhm,” he hummed, ruffling your head gently as he walked past the back of the couch. “See you in the morning, kiddo.”

“Night. Oh!” you said, sitting up on your knees on the couch, Eric throwing his head back. “It’s nothing bad! Just…can you ban everyone from the house until ten? I really want to sleep in and try to catch up.”

“You want me to fend off your team? After Dean Winchester posted that? What do I get out of this?” he teased, crossing his arms. You batted your eyes, jutting out your lip. “You got to do better than that.”

“I’ll buy you box seats to an LA Wolves game of your choice?” He looked blank faced which meant he was really tempted to take the offer. But Eric didn’t like extravagant gifts from you for doing his job. He already said his paycheck was more than enough and he barely accepted the Christmas and birthday presents you’d get for him.

You held up a finger, Eric calculating the move.

“Give me one good reason for not accepting.”

“First off, it’s too much. Second, I’m your primary protection agent and need to be available-”

“Please Eric? They’re going to be vultures in the morning with that whole post and you haven’t had a day off in six months. You’re as exhausted as I am. I’m asking as your friend, not your boss.” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Is that a yes?”

“It means I’ll think about it and I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “We’re going to watch football all day. I’ll teach you all about it.”

You growled, Eric snickering the whole way out.

Dean POV

The first game of the season was always a good one. The team was healthy. We had home field advantage for once. 

And I really enjoyed the hell out of playing football in a packed stadium. It wasn’t an ego thing like for some people. No, I loved putting on a show and entertaining people for a few hours a week, give them a fun escape before they had to return to the reality of their lives.

That’s what football had always been to me and I knew for most fans, it gave them that same sense of belonging.

And women tended to really like seeing a bunch of muscular men run around in tight pants.

“Winchester, surprised you’re here,” said Michael. I glanced over my shoulder in the locker room, a big smirk on his face. “I thought you’d be in the burn unit with how hard you crashed and burned with Y/N Y/L/N last night.”

I rolled my eyes at the taunts of the room, ignoring them as they riffed on me for a good ten minutes. When Benny walked in though they finally calmed down, Ben taking a seat in his cubby beside me.

“Let me have it,” I sighed. Benny leaned in close, covering his mouth from the rest of the room.

“If you really want that girl to go out with you, you got to do more than make an insta post. She’s classy. She’s not going to fawn over you like every dipshit you’ve dated because you’re good looking. So you better impress her.” He gave me one last look before reaching down to his duffel and pulling out his cleats.

He had a point. Y/N had never cared for cocky flirts. I could remember her in college, always spending time at parties with the shy academic guys that chatted her ear off about music theory and english papers. I swear the only time she gave a single jock attention was when she’d grab a guitar in the late hours of the night and sing a song none of us had heard before. She could stop a group of drunken college students in their tracks with a single note. Nowadays her music was all pop but back then, just her and a guitar…I’d have sworn an angel fell out of the sky straight in front of me.

No woman had made my heart swell up with comfort and longing the way she had the night I laid eyes on her for the first time. 

The years had done little to diminish a teenage boy’s crush. If anything, seeing her last night, getting to talk to her for even a brief moment, made my insides burn hotter than before. Maybe it was only a crush, an infatuation with a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful voice.

I felt Benny’s stare on me as I lazily watched my feet before me.

“You’re still in love with her.” He said it as a statement so I didn’t respond. I’d never claimed such a thing despite Benny insisting on it back in college. But he’d always been good at sensing those kinds of things.

Or at least he wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.

“I talked to her in english lit once, about you.” My head snapped up, eyes wide as he was now down to his boxer briefs, tugging up his pants. “She heard what happened to Sam.”

“Why are you bringing up Sam?” I whispered, giving him a hard glare. Benny smiled, curious since he knew not to bring him up unless I did. “Half the school offered their condolences. Of course she-”

“She didn’t. She offered…hope. Apparently her little brother went missing once too.” I turned my head away. 

“Everyone who knows anything about Y/N Y/L/N heard that story. Congrats. We both have little brothers that were kidnapped and never heard from again. Fucking awesome we can share that trauma,” I spit out. Benny leaned in close, gripping my shoulder.

“She wrote a song for her brother. Finish Line. She showed it to me long before she got famous. Look up who it’s fucking dedicated to and maybe realize there is a deeper reason why you fell in love at first sight with that girl. I have a feeling she’s the only girl in the world that could get you and you knew it long before your head did.”

I was seething, storming out of the locker room and into a trainers room next door, quickly shutting the door behind me. What the fuck was Benny thinking bringing Sam up right before a game? I could handle thinking about a girl but Sam?

I angrily typed Finish Line dedication into google, freezing at the short paragraph that appeared as the top result.

Chart topper Finish Line by Y/N Y/L/N was notoriously written by Y/L/N in her senior year of highschool after the disappearance of her younger brother, Max. Max is presumed to have been abducted while walking home from a friends house. The music video of Finish Line states the song is “For Max & Sam” although Y/L/N has never stated who Sam is. Fans theorize “Sam” is a representation of all abduction victims however��

I immediately tapped on the youtube video of the song, scrolling all the way to the end, bottom lip wobbling as I read the stark white letters against the black background.

She never gave me the time of day back then yet she knew who I was, what it felt like to have a piece of you go missing and you couldn’t do anything about it. She put my baby brother in a song for her baby brother and we weren’t even friends.

I swallowed thickly, forcing myself to calm down. 

“Sammy,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Is this a sign or something? Is she as fucked up as I am and the world doesn’t know it? Is that why she’s never been seen with a boyfriend her whole career? Did she shy away from connections when I buried myself in meaningless ones? Are we both so screwed up on the biggest stage in the world and that’s why I still feel breathless when I see her? Tell me I’m not crazy, Sammy. Tell me there’s a reason I’m still head over heels for this girl.”

I slowly opened my eyelids, staring at coach who was staring back at me on the other side of the room by the far entrance. I quickly cleared my throat and turned to leave, coach’s whistle stopping me in my tracks.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about son, but my advice as someone who’s been married longer than you’ve been alive…you know when you fall in love. That’s the easy part. Admitting it and trying to get the balls to say it to her face is the harder part.”

“Sir, she doesn’t even know I exist. Or barely knows I do,” I said quietly. “I should-”

“Your little brother, god rest his soul, wants you to be happy, Winchester. So shoot your shot with this girl so you can stop having an existential crisis before my home opener, got it?” I glanced over my shoulder, coach’s face surprisingly soft for how close we were to game time. “She must be special to tame you.”

“She had me the whole time. The rest were me trying to forget.” He nodded, picking up his playbook again.

“Then go get this girl so you have your answer,” he said. “And stay out of my training room before games. Only place they can’t find me.”

“Yes sir.” I ducked back into the locker room, Benny gave me a raised eyebrow, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded and sat down to tie up my shoes, an idea sparking in my mind before I opened instagram. “Ben, take a picture of me.”

“Good god,” groaned Michael from my other side. “Like your insta doesn’t have enough shirtless selfies.”

He snagged my phone out of my hands, sighing as he took a photo of me smirking in my cubby.

“I regret being your friend,” he said, handing it back to me while Benny chuckled. 

“Same, Michael,” I smiled back before I was on insta and typing furiously. I posted before I could stop myself, Benny and Michael sharing a look and immediately going to their own phones. But they weren’t fast enough apparently.

“Winchester are you serious?” shouted Gabe from across the room, the whole team looking at their phones now.

“Yup,” I said, standing and tugging on my under armor v-neck, my shoulder pads and then my jersey. 

“You can’t force a girl to go out with you!” he shouted. 

“I’m not forcing. I’m offering a donation to her charity if she does feel inclined to go out with me,” I said with a shrug. Benny grabbed my shoulders, looking at me like I was crazy.

“Five million dollars? That’s not what I mean when I said impress her you idiot!” he said.

“That’s what the picture was for,” I said with a wink, my phone already buzzing non-stop at the incoming flood of texts and calls. “You think she’ll take me up on my offer?”

“This fucker’s really about to get a fucking date with Y/N Y/L/N through a fucking bribe,” said Michael, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re crushing so hard it’s in psycho territory.”

“One date is all I want,” I said, smiling when coach walked in, rolling his eyes at me. “Come on boys, time to focus on the game!”

Y/N POV

I was currently hiding in my bedroom, reading a book on Sunday evening, Eric doing his best to get my agent and manager and PR head out of the house without force. As expected, they’d reemed my ass out for not capitalizing on the Dean Winchester picture in the moment but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about hanging out with pretty fuck boys for publicity’s sake.

But I had followed him on my private account no one knew about. It’d taken a moment but I remembered who Dean Winchester was in our college days. He was flirty back then I remembered. And a good football player I guess. But I just remembered what happened in the spring semester, how the whole campus knew his pain before he had a chance to even process it.

My heart ached for a boy I’d said nothing more than a passing hello to at parties. 

I still felt that ache whenever I sang Finish Line. I’d never realized Dean went on to his own version of fame all those years ago. But I knew the hurt still existed in his heart. There was no healing it but some part of me wished I could soothe it for a moment. I forgot in the music sometimes. Maybe he could do the same when he played his games.

Maybe I really should have talked to him last night.

My phone buzzed and I saw a new post, this one of him making my jaw drop. “Hot damn you are good looking, Winchester.”

Then I shrieked when I looked at the caption.

DWinchester67 Hey @Y/NY/L/N it was fun running into you last night. How about you take me up on my offer and let me buy dinner for our first date? 

Oh and to sweeten the deal, I’ll donate five million dollars to your charity if you say yes (plus another million for each touchdown I throw tonight, those are freebies for ya). 

You got my number so waiting on you sweetheart. ;)

Eric was in the room before I could raise my head, eyes darting around the room before he determined there was no threat. 

“Jesus, girl. I swear if you saw a bug-”

“Dean Winchester asked me out. Publicly.” Eric narrowed his eyes as he tucked his gun back into the holster. 

“Okay…you made it clear to the team today you don’t want anything to do with a publicity stunt. What’s the problem?” You tossed the phone to the end of the bed, Eric sitting on the bench at the bottom to pick it up. He did a double take, eyes skirting to meet yours. “I’m doing a full background check on this man. He either really wants in your pants, to profit off you or he’s obsessive. To be honest, I don’t like any of those options.”

“Me either but five million dollars to the charity? Plus more? That could help kids, Eric. We could find a safe way to do this, right?” He pursed his lips, nodding once.

“One date at a place of my choosing. My team will be there in the background and I’m going to talk to this boy and let him know all of the ways I can kill him if he tries anything.” You smiled, Eric handing the phone back. 

“You’d kill your favorite football player for me. You’re too sweet Eric,” you chuckled. He stood up, adjusting his sports blazer.

“You know why I stuck with you when my agency assigned me to the Princess?” he asked, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “You always listened to me. You didn’t always agree but you listened and we could have conversations. We could have conversations about safety without you acting like a brat or me like an asshole. You respected me and that earned you loyalty all these years later.”

You stared your hands in your lap. “My parents lost one child. I don’t want them to lose another.”

You were surprised to find him come closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling softly. 

“Don’t lose hope now, kiddo. I’ve always admired that about you.” You looked away, Eric stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Someday we’ll find the truth. I promise.”

“My mom wishes it were me,” you said, shaking your head. “If I didn’t make my parents so much money I’d think they’d be plenty happy to let some crazy fan take me away forever. All because I was five minutes late to pick up Max and he decided to walk home.”

“Hey!” Eric gripped your shoulders hard, hard enough that you felt the strength of his hands down in your bones. He was always so gentle you with guiding touches here and there you often forgot he was as deadly with his hands as he was a weapon. 

You met his gaze, Eric sighing.

“That is not true and you know it.” His stern expression softened when you shook your head.

“She told me the day we had a funeral for him Max should have been there and I should have been the one missing. So I know, Eric.” He pulled you into a hug, letting you squeeze him tight.

“I know she did,” he whispered, your chin resting on his shoulder. “She has so many regrets from that time and knows what she said broke something with the two of you. But I have had countless conversations with them over the years. I know you trust me so trust me when I say, you are their world and it would destroy them to lose you. She always asks me if you’re happy because she says you put on your fake smile for her. She doesn’t blame you one bit for it.”

“I hate when you have points,” you said, closing your eyes, getting another squeeze from him. 

“Happy to help my buddy. So you don’t give up on Max yet, alright? Everyone else has. If he’s out there, he needs you to keep going for him.”

“No wonder your team adores you. Soft cuddly bear under all the threats of violence aren’t you?”

“It’s how I land so many chicks,” he chuckled. He kissed your temple and stood, cracking his back. “Respond back yes if you want to. Let me look into this Dean Winchester before you agree to anything else though.”

You hummed, clearing your throat when Eric was in the doorframe. “I-I do remember one thing about Dean in college. He had a younger brother Sam that went missing too. Never found him.”

Eric kept his back to you for a beat, nodding once. 

“Do you think Dean is a bad guy?”

“Gut check says no. Probably just wants a hookup,” he said before stepping out and pulling the door shut fast behind him. “Rowan, I swear to god you bother this girl tonight and I’ll shove my glock up your ass.”

“He asked her out! I need to talk to her!” he yelled back on the other side of the door. You sighed and put on your noise canceling headphones before going to instagram and tapping on his post. 

Y/NY/L/N @DWinchester67 One date. As friends Winchester

Not five seconds later you received a winking emoji and “friends” in response. 

“Dear god, you’re going to be a handful, Winchester.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[caitchercatlady]

He'll Have to Go Through Me

-Heartslabyul Version

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is busy planning the next Unbirthday Party when he gets tired of seeing Ace and Deuce moping around the dorm. When he gets the "What's wrong with the both of you?" answer out of them, he's both confused and concerned about you refusing to visit the dorm as originally planned. This is indeed unusual.

He stops you out in the hall the next school day, hoping for answers. Riddle mentions how depressed your friends have been, praying that'll get you to say something. You finally reveal that. you can't go back to Heartslabyul because a second year student had been scaring you and stalking you when Ace and Deuce aren't looking. Riddle is not one to let an accusation like this go unchecked.

"Give me a day, and I will make Heartslabyul safe for you once more. Never fear, for I shall handle this the proper, Queen of Hearts manner."

The next day, as you are arriving to class, Ace and Deuce catch up to you in a better mood than they have been. Their snickering has you curious of what's going on. They tell you that Riddle would like you to come see him at Heartslabyul dorm after classes are over, for he has something important to discuss over tea. You're afraid, but you can't refuse Riddle's invitation unless you had a "valid" excuse.

After class, the boys take you to the dorm, and what washes over you is a strange sense of relaxing quiet. As you walk past the rose gardens, you see from the corner of your eye your bully with the recognizable heart-shaped collar around his neck, being watched over by a group of third years to paint every rose in the garden by hand, a painful chore experience. Once in front of Riddle, you notice he's giddier than usual. That's when everything clicks for you. Riddle tells you not to worry as the two week's worth of chores punishment should set your stalker bully on the straight and narrow. You can't thank Riddle enough for doing so.

Trey Clover

The Vice Housewarden knows a bully when he sees one, and with Riddle as Housewarden, he has been taught the tools on how to stop a bullying situation in its tracks. Trey notices that you're been less passionate about baking for the upcoming Unbirthday Party, and he presses why. You start to question if baking was really a fun activity or if it's just for "girls," and he pushes on where you got this idea from. You confess that a Diasomnia freshman saw you with the muffins that the two of you baked the other day and mocked you for it. You felt so bad that you were contemplating on quitting the hobby all together.

Trey tries to tell you not to give up hope. He'll see to it that there is worth in what you love to do after all. The next school day, you are in the cafeteria, studying and eating the leftover sweets you made at the same time. However, as you are about to indulge, trouble comes back a-knocking. The bully from Diasomnia crushes your sweets and starts bad mouthing until a certain Vice Housewarden comes from behind to stop the whole thing. Trey demands the bully to pay up for destroying the snacks they worked so hard to make. The bully snorts and guess that they cost like what...five thaumarks?

"Well, considering how much flour, milk, eggs, and sugar costs, our batch was worth 150. If we only account for the Prefect's batch, that'll be twenty. Considering how we get reimbursed by the dorm's treasury, either you drop the twenty thaumarks or you'll have to speak to Housewarden Riddle about repaying your debut. Which one is it?"

The bully quakes in his boot as he coughs up the twenty thaumarks from his wallet and leaves, swearing to leave you alone. You look at Trey and try to say that the cookies you guys made would never be so expensive. Trey smirks and tells you that you can buy whatever you want with your new twenty thaumarks instead. What a day, indeed!

Cater Diamond

MagiCam has not been an issue for you before since that's hwer eyou post all of your fun photos and projects for the Photography Club. However, for the past week, your posts have been receiving some not-so-friendly comments. You do your best to ignore them at first, but this troll has been nothing but persistent. You do the next best thing: Block them, but that doesn't stop them from making backup accounts to continue the torment.

This stress has caused you to take a massive social media break, which is only disappointing in regards to your favorite hobby. While alone in the library, Cater comes along, wondering why your MagiCam art has been absent from blessing Night Raven College. You show Cater the evidence of your stress, and nothing angered Cater more than a petty troll.

"You sit back and worry about you, Prefect. Cay Cay is on the case."

You're not sure what Cater meant by that, but surely you can trust him to get this troll off your back, right? At least that's what his clever grin is telling you. The next day, you walk from Ramshackle to the main campus only to see everyone gossiping about something. It's not until you get to Ace, Deuce, and Epel when you find out what happened. Apparently, your troll had been exposed an an Octavinelle student who had been axed from the school's art club. When Azul found out about it, the dorm's Housewarden wasn't pleased to hear about his freshman's trolling activities and chewed him out. Epel shows you what they mean, and. you can't help but smirk along with them.

You text Cater a thank you, and he replies that he doesn't know what you're talking about with a cheeky winking emoji at the end of his message.

Ace Trappola

When it comes to who's allowed to tease you out in public or private, it's always been Ace, and you've always been comfortable to let him know if a joke is too far, and criticism is always applied on his end. One day, you're out to meet up with your friends when Ace calls out to you with one of his many new nicknames he'd come up with to make you laugh. However, the moment you hear him call you "Maggy," you know it's a joke, but still, something in you snapped. Ace gets it out of you that someone has been taunting you in between classes for being magicless, and when he hears that it's been going on for the past two weeks, Ace won't stand by it.

Later in the day, you and Ace are in the cafeteria when your bully decides to act bold. The moment "Maggy" comes out of their mouth, Ace slips into the counter attack with how jealous the bully must be because a layperson knows more about magical education than he does. Ace and the bully go for a verbal smack down, and with each turn, Ace outdoes his opponent and himself.

"Even if my own Housewarden doesn't like me, at least I have family and friends to tell me never to try that hideous haircut."

The bully gets laughed out of the cafeteria and Ace is celebrated for the win, proving that even if Ace is a bum sometimes, his respect for you is no joke.

Deuce Spade

Deuce is always doing his best to be honor student material and leave his delinquent past behind. Still, deep down in his soul, he has to keep that part of him in case of "emergencies." One day, he catches up with you after class. You couldn't hear him calling you twice, so Deuce taps you on the shoulder. That causes you to have a spasm in a way Deuce had never seen you freak before. He demands to know who hurt you, and Deuce is not going to stand out you lying to him. You know Deuce is angry, but you don't want him to make your situation worse. You confess who this bully is to Deuce, but you make him swear to pretend that you didn't say anything. Deuce can't promise because this delinquent needs to be taught what for, and only HE can set things straight.

Dragging you along, Deuce stomped into the garden, where the bully and his cohorts were loafing around. Deuce challenges this coward to a fight if he was going to be so bold to lay his hands on the Prefect. The fight commences only for Deuce to overpower his opponent.

"If you wanna put your hands on me, do it all you like, but you will never EVER put your hands on them AGAIN!"

As you watch the coward and his friends make a run back for the main building, you are best assured that with Deuce proving a point, no one is going to mess with you again.

[reveryfics]

Drunk Confessions

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Male reader

Summary: After a night of drinking, Bucky shows up at your apartment soaking wet and drunk, determined to speak his mind.

A/n: Somewhat based off the lyrics "Slurring all your words not making any sense" and "cause I got hella feelings for you, I act like I don't fucking care. Like they ain't even there."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Bucky, a shadow of his former self, slumped against the sticky bartop. His head lolled to one side, a victim of the relentless pull of gravity. The neon hum of the bar blurred at the edges of his vision, a distorted symphony of light and noise. A half-empty whiskey glass, a testament to his descent into oblivion, sat neglected in front of him. A dark puddle, spreading like a malevolent stain, marred the bar's polished surface.

With a feeble effort, he fumbled for his wallet, extracting a crumpled bill. He tossed it onto the counter, a careless gesture that belied the turmoil within. The bartender, a seasoned observer of human misery, offered to call an Uber. Bucky waved him off, a silent plea for solitude.

The rain, a relentless tormentor, lashed down, transforming the quiet street into a raging torrent. Bucky, drenched and disoriented, stumbled forward, each step a battle against the elements. His mind, clouded by the intoxicating embrace of alcohol, clung to a singular, desperate purpose. He had to see his friend, to unburden himself of the weight that had been gnawing at his soul.

Twenty minutes later, he stood before his friend's apartment, his knuckles rapping against the weathered door. It creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in a robe. The man, shorter than Bucky, blinked sleepily, his face etched with surprise. "Bucky?" he questioned, his voice thick with confusion.

"Yeah, it's me," Bucky replied, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. "Can I come in?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped inside, water dripping from his clothes onto the worn carpet. His friend, clearly startled, ushered him towards the entrance, "Wait there. I'll get you a towel."

A few minutes later, Bucky emerged from the bedroom, now dry and clad in borrowed clothes. He sank into a chair at the dining table, a steaming cup of tea clutched in his hands. His friend joined him, a concerned expression etched on his face.

"I gotta tell you something," Bucky began, his words slurred. "Something important."

Something was clearly gnawing at Bucky, a darkness eating away at him from within.

“Is everything alright?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Even without words, he knew Bucky was struggling, his mind plagued by the specter of the Winter Soldier.

The cozy, familiar setting seemed to amplify Bucky's unease. A glance at the framed photo from last year's birthday party—a snapshot of shared laughter and genuine warmth—sent a pang of longing through him. This man, who saw beyond the horrors of his past, was everything to Bucky. Yet, a shadow loomed over their connection.

Bucky's metallic fingers drummed nervously against the mug, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding direct eye contact. “No, everything's fine,” he murmured, his voice strained. “I just... need to get something off my chest.”

Bucky took a deep breath, the warmth of the tea doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. "Look," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "I've been... I've been thinking a lot lately." He paused, his gaze flickering towards the framed photo. "About us."

A beat of silence hung in the air, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Bucky's friend leaned forward, his eyes filled with concern. "Bucky, whatever it is, you can tell me."

With a surge of courage, Bucky blurted out, "I... I love you. I've been terrified to say it, because of... well, you know. But I can't keep it bottled up anymore."

His confession hung heavy in the air, the weight of his past threatening to crush the fragile hope it carried. Yet, to his surprise, his friend's face broke into a gentle smile. "Bucky," he began, his voice soft, "I love you too. Your past doesn't define you. It's part of who you are, but it's not all of you."

Relief washed over Bucky, a wave of emotion so intense it threatened to consume him. He leaned forward, their hands brushing against each other. "Really?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.

His friend nodded, his eyes unwavering. "Really. And I'm not going anywhere."

In that moment, all the fear and doubt that had plagued Bucky melted away. He pulled his friend into a passionate kiss, a kiss that was years in the making. It was a kiss filled with love, longing, and the promise of a future together.

[luna-andra]

Domesticated!König Headcanons: Meeting the future In-Laws ✨

Image: @Skavod29 on Twitter (Source)

I was floored by how much attention my first headcanon post got. Y'all had me fucking emotional and I am so happy it's something people actually like. It keeps me coming back to post more of my silly little ideas. Forever grateful for your support! ❤️

I also need to reiterate that my blog/posts are 18+ so MDNI, this one has some NSFW bonus HCS 💋

If you missed the first one, here :) StepDad!Konig is here!

I got other stuff! Masterlist pinned on my blog

When you decided it was time for your parents and König to meet, you were tempted to slip a Xanax into his morning coffee. It is not like he hasn’t said a polite hello and a few words over the phone or when you facetime them, but now he was finally meeting them in person. You’ve seen him more calm talking to two- and three-star generals than this, the kinds of things that rattled your nerves.

You swore he changed attire more times than you did. The sight of him re-rolling his sleeves on his button up shirt made you intervene before he undid them all over again. He paused when your hands held his, then flicked his azure eyes up to you. “They’re gonna love you, my king.” Your gentle smile and comforting words got through to him.

They welcomed you and the mystery man with open arms at their front door. Mom never knew how to keep her thoughts to herself, but she really did mean well. Of course, the first thing they all notice is how König has to duck under their doorway to come inside. “You weren’t lying when you said he was tall,” mom said. You gave her a warning look followed up with an apologetic smile to König. He managed to chuckle it off, it was nothing new for him. It did make him curious about what else you’ve said to your mom about the two of you.

You gave König a tour of your childhood home, nearly having to pry him from the wall of photos of you and your family. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face of the little timeline displayed in pretty frames; your first elementary school photo, a photo of you in a boy/girl scouts uniform, another of you during extra-curricular activities (band/orchestra, JROTC, sports, theater, robotics team, etc.), a prom photo with you and old friends, and lastly your high school graduation picture. König wanted a copy of one of them to keep in his wallet, mom promised to get him one behind your back.

König's field day got better when you showed him your childhood bedroom. Depending on how you last had it decorated, you were either low key bashful or regretting even showing him. It was like traveling back in time for him, giving him a glimpse of the kid and teen, you used to be. A chance to fall in love with every facet of you.

He was getting more comfortable when he found out your dad wasn’t out to get him as much as he thought. They ended up sitting in the living room, talking about a topic after your dad played twenty questions to figure him out. Something either about guns, hunting, hiking, fishing, blue-collar work, and if your dad is a veteran, they got along faster than you could imagine. You and mom caught up in the kitchen as you helped her finish up with cooking and setting the table.

If you have siblings, they showed up in the nick of time before dinner, to share embarrassing stories of you when you were a kid, or the stories you all waited to tell when you all were adults to avoid from getting in trouble. König watched and listened as you got more animated with laughter. Loving every second of this. He had a handful of memories he could count on his hand that were of happier times, but your memories became his favorite ones.

Everyone pestered the two of you for the story of how you met. And since you’ve been doing most of the talking, you looked to König to tell the tale. Your eyes never left him as he started the story from his point of view, recollecting the moment he saw you and how he was trying to come up with an excuse to try and talk to you. It donned on you that this was the first time you were hearing the way he saw you. “And now we’re here,” he concluded, looking over to you with a grin and a touch to your hand underneath the table.

NSFW Bonus:

König couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in your childhood room, nearly fantasizing what it would’ve been like if the two of you met as teens/younger adults. Indulging in the idea of sneaking into your bedroom window or standing outside with a boombox in 80s/90s style fashion.

Of course, your parents offered you to stay with them, not wanting you to have to rent a hotel room or travel back (depending on how far away you lived from them), so the later the night got, the more distracted König became with fulfilling his dirty thoughts.

It was just like the old days, having you home and hearing the music coming from your speakers when someone passed by the doorway. You were just showing König your CD collection, right?

It definitely wasn’t because you were trying to muffle your moans and screams as he pounded you into that fucking mattress. Making you a drooling and brainless mess under his rutting hips. He kept praising you for taking him so well and for being so quiet like the good little fuck thing you were, making it harder not to cum so fast. Secretly, this was your fantasy too, and you wanted it to last a little longer than the 10 minutes of foreplay and fucking you had already endured.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Stay tuned for more to this unexpected series! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others.

[agentlizardofowca]

perryshmirtz “maybe we should kiss just to break the tension.” from the quotes prompt

After three successful dates (and one bad one, it was not their fault) Perry invited Heinz to meet his immediate family. It had gone surprisingly well, and over the months that followed Doof somehow built a stronger friendship with the Flynn-Fletchers than he had ever managed with Charlene's parents and sister. They had never liked him much, but Perry's family didn't bat an eye at his strange behavior. Strangely enough, Heinz almost felt like he fit in.

It took almost two years of officially dating before Perry informed him that it was time for Heinz to meet the extended family. Perry's expression was not enthused, but Heinz was used to his boyfriend's stoic expressions so he did not think much of it.

The day of the Fletcher Family reunion arrived and Heinz was introduced to Winifred and Reginald Fletcher who were both hilarious, interested, friendly, and potentially insane. Never before had Heinz met a woman who was as unimpressed with Perry as his foster mother. She ordered Heinz to grab them "a cuppa" before she told him an array of embarrassing stories from Perry's youth. In her purse she had a stack of photos, some of a teenaged and awkward Lawrence, and then a few of a grumpy-faced peach-fuzz-lipped Perry who wore his school uniform with absolute disdain. His hair was too long, in one ear sat an earring, and in some pictures, he sported an impressive black eye.

"Perigrin wasn't very impressed with the school bullies," She said with poorly hidden pride. "He showed them what for!"

Perry was in the middle of begging his mother not to tell any more stories when a new group of people arrived. A young lady and a herd of boys all stormed in, followed by a man who had to be Lawrence's biological brother.

"Aiden, how nice of you to come!" Lawrence announced and went to hug his brother.

Distantly, Heinz registered that his hand was being crushed.

He looked down and found that Perry was looking particularly grave.

"Perry?" Heinz asked, and Perry blinked as if coming to his senses. He released Heinz's hand from the death grip, dusted his knees, and got up from his begging position.

Heinz then watched as Perry stiffly and awkwardly went to greet Aiden. They shook hands so politely that Doof couldn't help but feel a bit worried.

"It's been so long, Perry," Aiden announced loudly. "I see you haven't grown an inch!"

Perry bared his teeth in a most unnatural smile and continued shaking his hand.

After Aiden was done laughing at his own joke, he wiped a fake tear from his eye before continuing what Heinz could only describe as a comedy routine.

"I'll give you twenty dollars to say something right now," Aiden pulled out his wallet, and when Perry just grimaced at him uncomfortably he put it away and laughed some more.

Perhaps it was more like a roast.

"How's the wife and kids? Oh no wait! You're single and lonely!" Aiden laughed again, completely unaware that he was the only one.

Perry had crossed his arms two "jokes" ago, and beside Heinz, Winifred crossed her arms impatiently. Apparently, this routine happened every time? Heinz couldn't help but wonder why Perry hadn't smacked that guy yet, if Heinz made a joke that bad he'd be bruised for a week.

"Actually Aiden, Perry brought his partner along!" Lawrence announced, and he held his arms out as if he too was scared of what Perry was capable of.

Aiden paused his laughter. "Wait really?" He asked and he looked around the room in surprise. His eyes landed on Heinz and after a moment where Heinz and Aiden stared at each other awkwardly, the brother said "Oh," In an almost disappointed tone.

"Come meet Heinz," Lawrence tried to guide Aiden towards him. Heinz rose to his feet hesitantly, and his eyes checked with Perry who had apparently decided to stay there and let this happen.

"Aha," Aiden agreed. "Heinz. Foreign name?"

"Drusselstein." He agreed.

Aiden's face contorted for a moment. "Like Matteo Spieler, Drusselstein?!" He asked loudly. And his face got quite red, quite quickly

Heinz had to think for a moment. He wasn't much of a sports guy, but even he knew that Matteo Spieler was Drusselstein's most famous soccer player. He was currently playing in the European league and was personally responsible for the winning goal against England. Ah. Heinz might understand the sudden burst of anger.

Aiden turned to Perry. "You're DATING THE ENEMY?!" He shouted and he grabbed an apple from the counter and threw it on the floor. Where it burst into many pieces.

"Now, now Aiden!" Lawrence interjected and he tried to calm him down. Linda sighed loudly and left the room, if anyone expected her to clean up that mess they were wrong.

"Drusselstein?! Really!"

Whilst Lawrence kept Aiden occupied, Perry returned to Heinz's side and circled his heart with one finger 「Sorry.」

Heinz watched the hissifit with amazement. "Not your fault. I think?"

"Honestly, I expected his homophobia to be the issue, not your nationality," Winifred remarked as she sipped her tea casually.

Heinz blinked and turned to his boyfriend. "Do you think that if we kissed to break the tension that would snap him out of it?"

Perry snorted in amusement and pulled Heinz along as he stepped up to Aiden. He cleared his throat dramatically, twirled Heinz around, dipped him low, and mashed their mouths together in an unelegant but enthusiastic kiss.

Winifred cheered happily.

Aiden paused his argument with Lawrence to look at the performance.

When Perry eventually released the Drusselsteinian enemy from his kiss, he smiled at Aiden and winked.

It worked, in that Aiden shut up about football for a while, but Heinz very quickly learned that the other members of the Fletcher family were a lot more fun to talk to. After all, Winifred still had pictured from Perry's youth he had to see.

[heiayen]

gently wipe the sorrow off my life, i dream scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: "you didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed." you're surprised and completely heartbroken when your lover, kunikuzushi, suddenly disappears without a trace. you think it's the end of the world, with your heart open and bleeding but soon you discover, that there is still happiness waiting for you.

tags: based on the prompt "there’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you", scara's real name used, modern au (from highschool to college), scara basically pulls an irminsul but why? blame dottore angst/bittersweet, [name] is very much going through it </3 title name taken from the honkai star rail song "if i can stop one heart from breaking". not proofread

notes: hi. i come back with angst! written for @thexianzhoujade's personal memoires event and truthfully i kinda hate this fic HAJAHS but this is fine i am not fine blah blah blah yippee. i forgot how to write scara so sorry if this fic is kinda ooc but yeahhh have fun enjoy !! <3 as if anyone is going to enjoy angst LMAO

“Come on, it’s just one photo and besides, we barely have pictures of us…”

“...just one, fine. Get in here.”

A part of you wished you had taken more pictures with him. Pictures from dates in the blooming parks, from hangouts with your friends after school, from spending time together at his place, something to fill up the empty photo album you found hidden in your room. You filled only a few pages, with a few pictures of you and Kunikuzushi, of you taken by your friends, of your family during holidays, pictures of you and your friends, his friends, a picture of him you took when he didn’t see– the one you considered putting in your wallet, laughing how you’d look like a spouse missing their husband. 

(You counted exactly six photos of him in your album, compared to the twenty or so with others. Barely a quarter, not even a half, barely a page and a half of the album.)

You moved your fingers over one of them, the one you took after graduation– laughing with your friends, posing at the camera, tightly holding his hand, and tugging him closer, and wondered.

Did it have to end like this? If you only knew what was happening, would you somehow fix it in time?

Things were… nice, before. Being with him was nice, even if his personality sometimes made you tug at your hair in annoyance. But you found a common language and spoke in it till the very end, sharing your joy and sadness, annoyance and anger, silent tears and gentle fluttering in your chests. 

When you first met Kunikuzushi in school, you had your opinions about him– he wasn’t the nicest, wasn’t talking with many other students, and seemingly valued his time alone more than with someone. You understood it, some people simply weren’t the social butterflies but it became a problem when, by some unlucky charm (at least, you thought it was unlucky then), you ended up together to work on a project. You didn’t know him and your teacher decided to pair you by herself, saying how she wanted her students to interact more with each other. It seemed like a terrible idea at first.

(You rolled your eyes, giving a look to your friend. You really didn’t entertain this idea– to do a big project with someone other than your friend? You dealt with enough shitty groupmates leaving you on read or delivered in your life, and that was for small projects! What if you got someone as shitty as them? You shuddered at the thought alone.)

But, oh, how wrong you were. You didn’t expect to befriend that guy, and yet a few months in, Kunikuzushi became your best friend, and a year later– your lover. 

You remembered that love confession like yesterday; a little awkward, he jumbled over his words and you said something stupid in return, laughing awkwardly at yourself and almost getting up from that bench and marching back home. It was late, the bench in the park illuminated by the streetlight. A part of you was sure he planned for the confession to look different, yet whatever his ideal plan was, you wouldn’t exchange what you got for it. 

He walked you back home, you remembered, holding your hand.

To say you were happy was an understatement. Something bloomed in your chest with every day spent together with him, the little affections between you warming your heart and cheeks, and every morning seemed… a little brighter. It wasn’t wake up, get dressed, go to school, spend majority of your day studying, sleep, anymore.

Wake up, reply to Kunikuzushi’s late night message he sent. Get dressed and don’t forget about that chain necklace with a pendant he gave you for your birthday (you were matching, of course you were matching). Go to school and spend the day with your friends, with Kunikuzushi, with his friends (although you weren’t sure if that ginger guy was really his friend, but…). Spend the rest of your day studying, texting, and sometimes hanging out if you had free time (which turned into weekly hangouts with all your friends and… sometimes, more than once a week, just you and Kunikuzushi). Text him goodnight and smile at his, although short, reply back. Sleep. 

You hoped it would stay like this… for longer. For as long as possible, just living in this bliss, being happy and not alone, with people you loved and who loved you back, some even more than others.

(Selfishly, you wanted that to last forever. Forever the high school student with no worries other than passing exams and doing your homework on time. Forever with your friends, spending weekends with them, having fun and not caring about anything else. Was it selfish to want to be happy forever?)

Kunikuzushi was here with you for all your problems, even if, truthfully, he wasn’t the best at solving them, and neither he was good at words. But he was still here, offering you support and letting you talk about what annoyed you, what made you sad and sometimes, he still would try to comfort you, loudly agreeing with your complaints, (lovingly) threatening to beat someone up if they were an asshole to you, telling you to not worry. It wasn’t the end yet. 

His presence alone helped you manage through harder days– it was better to be with someone after all, rather than spend your days wallowing in sadness alone, with only the walls willing to listen. 

(You offered him help, too. Quietly sitting and listening to his rants about his mother, squeezing his hand and tugging him closer to you– or simply being next to him, when touch was something unwanted.)

When graduation came, in bittersweet tears you promised your friends (and Kunikuzushi, of course) to still be in touch with them, and never leave them alone just because you weren’t students from the same class anymore. That didn’t change anything, no.

The summer vacation you spent mostly with your friends, hanging out and enjoying the warm, summer weather. So many trips, so many walks with Kunikuzushi and dates– oh, that picnic you two went on one day… it started raining at one point (the weather reports lied to you, it seemed) and you only had a blanket to cover yourself from the rain. How funny it was, how much you wished you could get the chance to do it again, with him–

You sighed, closing the album. Sometime before the summer’s end, right before the start of college, you noticed… changes in Kunikuzushi’s behavior. He still was your lover, caring about you in his own ways, he still was the man you loved, but something seemed to always bug him. Something seemed to sit on his shoulders, heavy. You always asked him if he was okay because yes, yes, you noticed his worse mood, noticed all the little things he tried to hide and you were worried, really worried, and–

And yet, you never got a proper answer. Always to not worry, that nothing was wrong, and you were tired of that, maybe if you, at least this once, pressed him for answers, during that summer night you called a date–

Maybe you would know why he suddenly disappeared without a trace.

The many messages you sent, the many unanswered calls– you asked your friends around, his friends, and were greeted with radio silence in answer. You didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed.

(These flowers would never truly burn, you feared. Some would still leave, polluting your heart and making it harder to breathe.)

What was once beautiful turned into a burden, far too heavy to carry alone. There was so much stress on your plate– because what if something happened to him? What if someone did something to him, what if there was something you could do to change it? Why were you so distracted throughout the day? Why was it hard to get up in the morning, why the only thing you wanted to do was to wait at your phone, with hopes of seeing at least a single message from him? Where went your motivation to study, to do well in college as you promised yourself?

Where was he? What happened? Could you change it?

Were you at fault?

(No, of course you weren’t. You did everything in your power, but it just wasn’t enough. None of this was your fault.)

Were you alone in it?

…no, you weren’t. It felt like you were, especially at first; with new people around you, your friends offering you support but ultimately being busy, you felt alone. Terribly so, loneliness gnawing at your soul all the time, leaving the icy cold feeling in its wake. 

But life forced you to get up from that pit, whether you wanted that or not. You couldn’t fail your major, not when you worked so hard to get into it in the first place. And neither you wanted to completely cut off your friends, so you started replying to their texts more. You’ve met new people, too, and made new friendships.

Things were getting back on track after, you thought that they wouldn’t. You pulled yourself up with your own strength, with your friends cheering for you from the distance, their cheers putting a smile on your face. 

(Younger you thought that if you ever were to break up with Kunikuzushi, the world would simply… end. You ignored that thought creeping into your mind, waved it away, pushed it deep at the bottom of your mind. It wouldn’t happen.)

Now, as you looked at the pictures, you still felt a sharp pang in your chest. You missed him, yes, and you still thought about the days you spent together with him, but they no longer brought you back into that darkness you once experienced.

They were a bittersweet memory now. Ones, you would cherish till the end, gently putting them on the shelf with new, happy memories. 

You hummed to yourself in thought, tapping at the cover of the album with your nail. Maybe instead of pondering how you should take more photos of the past, maybe you should take more of the future? Fill the album up with new photos of yourself, your friends, random things that you found pretty and worth remembering. 

Your phone threw you out of the thinking, the loud noise of the ringtone filling up the room. Right, you were supposed to meet up with your friends in an hour and here you were, going through your old stuff and procrastinating the shower. 

You put the album away and picked up your phone. A smile tugged at your lips hearing the overjoyed voice of your friend, telling you how excited they are to meet with you again (your last hangout was two weeks ago!) and that they already left.

You looked back at the album.

With today, you’d start filling it up with new memories of your happiness.

[clairebishop6226]

I know that among all the brothers, Jonh Dory wasn't the best of all, fame got to his head a little and made him stop valuing each one for their individuality and not just for the weight of fame, after having traveled a lot alone Without the company of his brothers he still has difficulty interacting and understanding the desires of others, but it's just me who is thinking about the fact that for years he has been carrying photos of his brothers in their happiest moments from Brozone, such as funny moments and even wallet photos, he literally carried Branch's baby photo for over twenty years even though he thought the style was completely out of style, he left but that doesn't mean he forgot, now it's up to him to explain this to Branch

[dirtbra1n]

Seigi Sunday the third—sunday in our Hearts ❤️

read the first and second here and here!

(one day late is nothing to me by now and time is what you make it. let’s all pretend together Take my hand,)

hi! merry christmas! decided on a whim I’d speedrun this one and by god am I going to try really really hard. (I fell asleep.) just how these things go. (noooo kidding) having read over the first two again I’m making the executive decision this holiday to use the more legible black-on-white reading mode. if it wasn’t apparent by my punctuality or lack thereof These are shaped in full by whim. and whimsy!

speaking of whimsy, how is seigi doing this lovely christmas evening and also perfectly average saturday morning :) ?

he’s doing just OK! 👍

more seigi under the cut

"Good morning. Is something the matter? You don't look well." "I went out drinking with my exam prep class yesterday..." "Did you shower when you got back?" "…I just fell asleep immediately." "I see." Richard stood up, took his wallet from his pocket, and handed me a 1,000 yen note. "There's a public shower, laundromat, and convenience store in front of Shimbashi Station. You have fifty minutes to take a shower, launder your clothing, and chew some mint gum."

It gave rank a whole new meaning. I mingled with the businessmen and homeless people as I shoved my head under the shower. I pulled my clothes out of the dryer and pulled them on, bought some gum at the convenience store, chewed it and spit it out into some paper before returning to the shop where I was surprised to find a customer.

seigi…… I . kinda can’t look at you right now CHANGE CLOTHES AT LEAST!!!!!!! AT LEAST CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES!!!!! YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE GOTTEN RUN OVER BY A CAR!!!!!!!!! SMELLY!!!!!!!!!

It was a man. "Wow, late to work, are we? If this were my store, you'd be chewed out." I threw a "hey" at the man who snarkily greeted me. He was wearing a wrinkled black suit with a wine-red collared shirt underneath. Richard, who was sitting across from him, checked his watch. It'd only been 48 minutes. I was safe, right? I was still safe, I made the baseball hand signal at him, and Richard asked me to make some tea. His tone sounded civil. I guess that meant I did make it. "Wow, no response? Where's the 'with pleasure!'?" "I know I've mentioned this before, but this is a jewelry shop." "Sorry, old habits." Speak of the devil. A real host actually had showed up at the shop. I brought out some royal milk tea with extra ice, and the customer said "thanks" with a wink. His hair faded from blond to brown, his lightly tanned skin looked a bit neglected, and he had a loud voice. He was probably in his late twenties. He introduced himself as Satoshi Takatsuki. It seemed a little plain for a working name, so maybe it was his real one. "So, I'm lookin' for a stone that'll make for a nice conversation piece with my clients. Girls love pretty things, right? Ideally something convenient to carry around. You know, I heard about this shop. You're pretty cheap, right?" "I have done favors for various customers of mine, yes." "Man, you sure talk like a real Japanese dude! Does one of your parents have some Japanese blood in 'em?" "Neither does, actually." "I bet you've got a hundred percent success rate with the ladies, don'tcha? Are you sure you're not in the wrong line of work?" "Sir, what would you like with your tea? We have both sweet and salty options." "I've got a sweet tooth. You charge extra for this?" "No, is basic hospitality..." "That's Ginza for ya! No one's gonna nickel-and-dime you here."

Wait. Then when was I going to tell her that I wanted to go out with her? I would chat with Tanimoto over text from time to time. Mostly about rocks. Well, pretty much only about rocks. She'd send me photos of specimens she was fond of or particularly unusual rock formations. Like the cliffs in Inubousaki with big round holes carved into them or large grey rocks lined up on the shore of Ireland. I'd never know about all these places all over the world if I hadn't met her.

you can put this in the comparison column for later. you’ll see

When Tanimoto got completely absorbed in the world of stones, she was less cute and more... passionate and dashing. And always replied to me really fast. But I would feel a little depressed when our conversations ended. At the end of our longer exchanges, she'd always add, "Let me see your sports car sometime." It was gradually turning into her regular sign-off. Even if it was just a mistake, the enthusiasm on display in my "got it!" made it difficult to correct, and I would always respond "eventually" like an idiot.

dingus.

I was profoundly jealous of our current customer, who wasn't at the mercy of love but could enjoy romance as a commercial endeavor. Mr. Takatsuki smiled at me. "What's wrong, kid? Love troubles?" "Wha—are you psychic or something?" "Men only look at hosts with one of two things in their eyes: disgust or jealousy. And men who are in love tend to fall into the latter camp. It only makes sense." "Well, this is embarrassing. You hosts really are incredible." "That kind of honesty is a talent, too. I think you'd make an excellent host."

INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS THING TO ENCOURAGE HIM ON. really really right though. super endearing quality of his. my stupid best friend in the entire world seigi who is so so honest. and stupid

"Apologies for the wait." Richard set a black velvet box on the table. It was about the size of a large chocolate box, and I'd taken to calling it the box of wonders. It was just like a regular jewelry box, with the top connected to the base by a hinge. It looked kind of like an alligator when the lid was open. Mr. Takatsuki's eyes went wide when the lid slowly opened. Pretty much everyone who came into the shop had the same reaction. Gems were laid out in four rows on black cushions. They weren't part of any jewelry—just plain stones. Red, green, purple, pink, every color you could imagine. These multicolored gems were like a preemptive strike. Mr. Takatsuki smiled for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. "I'm kinda speechless! There must be a ton of people who'd kill for an opportunity to see stones like this just once in their lives. I'm absolutely tellin' my guys about this." "That would be most appreciated."

"You really have a head for business," Mr. Takatsuki said with a smile, leaning over the box. "Every gem conceals a rich story of its own, so regardless of which you choose, you won't find yourself wanting for conversation." "A rich story, huh? Honestly, to me they're all just red stones, yellow stones, or purple stones. "My customers who find all their options equally attractive tend to have a rather broad and clear aesthetic sense. Please, try picking them up and taking a closer look." “...I really think you're in the wrong line of work." Richard's cool and collected expression didn't falter at all. Which just made me get annoyed on his behalf. Where did this guy get off, coming into someone's place of business and telling them "you're in the wrong line of work"? Mr. Takatsuki shrugged and reached for a random stone, like the option had just occurred to him. "What's this red one? It's not a ruby, is it?" "That would be a garnet. You have excellent taste, Mr. Takatsuki." "Nah, I just saw rubies at another shop. Ruby red is a lot brighter. What's this green one?" "This may come as a surprise, but that is also garnet." "They're the same thing?" Mr. Takatsuki asked, pointing at the two stones. Richard nodded. "Red garnets were extremely popular in 19th century Europe, which is why their Japanese name, zakuroishi or pomegranate stone, references the color red. However, garnets are not exclusively red in color. This green stone, demantoid garnet, is from Russia. The blue garnet you may be familiar with from a story featuring a certain famous detective, however, is pure fiction. Garnets come in nearly every color with the exception of blue." “...Um, I didn't catch the name." "Of the green stone? Demantoid garnet." "No, yours, Mr. Shopkeep." There was a brief pause, but Richard's courteous smile remained untarnished. "My apologies. My name is Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian. Garnet happens to be the birthstone for January—do you have any interest in garnet, Mr. Takatsuki?" "Let me be real with you, Richard. Have you ever considered a change of career?" "Excuse me, sir, would you care for a dessert? We have soft adzuki jelly if you're interested." "Oh, come on kid, read the room. I'm trying to scout your boss here." And that's why I'm trying to help him out, I frowned very pointedly so only Richard would see. My boss, whose calm smile never faltered, closed his eyes and bowed. "Mr. Takatsuki, you have your calling just as I have mine." "The night life is so brilliant though. If you like gemstones, I'm sure you'll take a shine to it. Roppongi's rough these days. All an average-looking foreign host has to do is speak a little Japanese, and he's raking in millions a night." "The brilliance of a human life lasts but a hundred years, but this garnet right here was born from the Earth a hundred million years ago. Gems have long lifetimes, yet they generously accompany us for the duration of ours." "Now that's what I'm talking about! That's the kind of host I want in my establishment!" Mr. Takatsuki looked at me again. I knew what he was trying to say, but at the rate things were going, all of Richard's efforts to make a sale were going to be in vain. I flashed him a slightly displeased face, and Mr. Takatsuki smiled a glorious smile at Richard. It made him look young, but this was his manager side, not his host side, I supposed.

okay. Yeah sure. alright. you’re a sick sick man. but Whateve No actually Can we talk about this

“...That would be an amethyst. Crystalline quartz." "Amethyst! Even I know what that one is! It sure is pretty." "Please feel free to pick it up and take a closer look." Mr. Takatsuki said, "Don't mind if I do," and picked up the amethyst with his fingertips. It was about as big as my pinky nail—probably double the size of my pink sapphire. Richard mentioned that you could view the stone from more angles if you set it between two fingers on top of your hand. He demonstrated, setting the stone in between his pointer and middle fingers before placing it on Mr. Takatsuki's hand in the same fashion. Mr. Takatsuki finally smiled. "You sure have beautiful fingers. Is there some kind of story behind amethysts?" "Excellent question. Humans' relationship with amethysts goes back a very long time. If we reach back beyond the realm of written history, we find amethysts in grave goods at prehistoric sites, and we have records of the nobility in ancient Egypt using them as stamps on documents. It's not nearly as hard a stone as diamond, ruby, or sapphire, so they found more uses in day-to-day life. It's the birthstone for February and is said to help cultivate an open heart, love, and intuition." "Where do you learn all that stuff? Is there a school or something?" "I learn every day. In the course of my work, I have many opportunities to acquire new information, and I count among my customers some specialists who are far more knowledgeable than I." "Your world sure is fascinating. Just makes me want to hire you as a host even more. So, is it expensive?" The moment Richard said the price was 5,000 yen, both Mr. Takatsuki and I made a weird face. "Huh? Are you sure that's not off by a zero?" "The price is neither 500 yen, nor 50,000 yen. The prices of all goods and services, not limited to gemstones, are determined by the balance of supply and demand. And as the supply of amethysts is most steady and abundant, it is possible to acquire rather high-quality stones for a relatively low price. This particular stone came from Brazil, the world's foremost producer of amethyst, though they were commonly produced in Japan just a few decades ago—stones from Yamanashi are quite famous." Mr. Takatsuki looked vaguely frustrated, saying that prefecture is known for its grapes. Richard smiled. "Is it not a remarkable twist of fate that beautiful gem-like fruits are grown on the same land beautiful gemstones were mined from?" "Don't you play favorites! Yamanashi's not the only place that makes good grapes. I mean, they're good, but... this is getting off topic. Please tell me more about the stone." Richard bowed and began speaking eloquently again, almost like a talking doll. The scientific name for the stone was quartz. I supposed it was kind of like how ruby and sapphire are both corundum. There were all sorts of varieties of the mineral—citrine, smoky quartz, rose quartz, and so on—but they were all chemically almost identical and were all about the same hardness. A lot of mineral enthusiasts collected it. Excessive exposure to sunlight could cause the color to fade, so care had to be taken when storing them. In Europe in the Middle Ages, amethysts were prized by high-ranking members of the Christian clergy and treasured as spiritual artifacts. In the realm of fortune-telling, they were used as pendulums for dousing. And so on and so forth. Richard talked about stones seemingly forever. If you told him to talk, he could probably go on for an entire day. If you closed your eyes and listened, you'd never know it wasn't a Japanese person talking. His voice was neither too high, nor too low, and it had a mysterious warmth to it—like someone holding you tight. If I were Mr. Takatsuki, I'd ask him to stop, or apologize and leave. Me though, I could never do it. It'd be like being in the same cage as a ferocious beast and trying to force it to do tricks. Terrifying.

you’re sick. You are so sick

While I was refreshing their tea, I stole a glance at Mr. Takatsuki's expression, thinking it was getting about time for him to get going. But he was utterly bewitched by Richard—he wouldn't even look at me. His enthusiasm was tremendous. "Your tank empty yet? Or can you keep going?" "Hm, Mr. Takatsuki, you wouldn't happen to know the origin of the name 'amethyst,' would you?" "I wish I could respond to that with an, ‘of course I do,’ but I'm not so lucky this time. What language is it? English?" "Greek, actually. 'Amethystos,' meaning 'to not become intoxicated by alcohol.'" It felt like the atmosphere in the shop suddenly changed in that instant. Mr. Takatsuki's expression grew a bit more serious. Richard seemed to notice. "Oh, so it's a gemstone that prevents drunkenness? Like a healing crystal?" "It's an old legend. This stone has a beautiful purple color, so perhaps that's why it became associated with wine. It is said that Bacchus, the god of wine, offers his divine protection to owners of this stone." "'To not become intoxicated,' 'to not become intoxicated,’ huh? ...Yeah, I like it." He sounded unnatural and listless as he added excuse upon excuse. I was sure he was going to buy it. He went down the line, looking at the other stones, but ultimately settled on the amethyst, just like I expected. "Do you just sell it like that? Or can I have it set?" "You mean this amethyst? I can have it set in a piece of your choosing—a ring, a tiepin, bracelet, or whatever else you might like. Of course, the cost and timeframe will vary, depending on exactly what you choose. I can have a designer sketch something up for you as well." "Yeah, I don't need anything that fancy. You've gotta have like a catalog I can pick from or something. That's good enough for me. Probably shouldn't go for a tiepin, it'd be hard to tell if I dropped it or something. What would be fastest? A necklace would be fine, too." "If you aren't set on this particular stone, I do have finished amethyst accessories in stock." "I like your gumption. Lemme see what you've got then." It was only another fifteen minutes after Richard went into the back room to replace the contents of the box of wonders that Mr. Takatsuki left the shop. Richard had three amethyst pendants to choose from, and Mr. Takatsuki selected the largest one. The stone was at least the size of my thumbnail and cut into a square with rounded corners. Its edges were wrapped in gold. It was a pure purple, like a morning glory, and the back was rounded off so as to not scratch the wearer's skin when worn. The chain was the same gold as the wrapping around the stone. It was rather delicate, as it had been designed as a piece for a woman, but when Mr. Takatsuki put it on, you could just about smell the aroma of nightlife wafting off it. The price: 15,000 yen. "It's almost like a toy," Mr. Takatsuki said with a smile. He left the shop in high spirits, oblong jewelry box with amethyst pendant inside in hand. He couldn't resist asking Richard to think his offer over before he left though. "...Think he was drunk?" "I'm quite sure he was sober. That was all an act." "Do you think he'll return it later?" "He won't. He appeared to be satisfied with his purchase."

I knew about the camera at the entrance, but I guessed there were cameras in the shop proper, too. But there were only valuables in the store when Richard was here, so the real concern was less burglars and more customers with ill intent.

I've always had exceedingly average looks, so I've never felt especially flattered by compliments on my appearance or particularly upset by insults to it, either. That said, I didn't think there were all that many men who were routinely scrutinized for their appearance, unless they're on Richard's level. The place my mother worked at before her current job at the hospital had a serious sexual harassment problem, and she'd often complain over a beer that she wasn't dressing herself for their sake. Richard had the same feeling about him now. Beauty wasn't something people engaged with to please strangers. People were welcome to appreciate what they would, but they should know it didn't give them the right to treat people however they wanted. "Um, so… I swear I don't mean anything weird by this, like, seriously, I don't mean it like you might think, but—" "Don't you think that excessively long and circuitous preambles are rather rude, too?" "I just wondered if you feel like people telling you you're handsome and beautiful is kinda... insulting. Sorry," I added, and Richard made a strange face. After a moment, he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something eerily childlike about his expression. "Do you think telling someone with blond hair that they have blond hair is some kind of insult?"

let’s circle back to the narcissism thing from last chapter actually

"You know, I really don't love it when you act so full of yourself! Agh, I put my foot in my mouth said ‘love’ again!" "Just stop talking for a moment. I know what you meant. Do not worry about it," Richard repeated emphatically. He returned the products to the safe and took a sip of the fresh milk tea I'd made when he came back. I never thought of myself as someone who would perpetrate sexual harassment, but I might've been a lot more insensitive than I realized. At this rate, I just knew I'm going to say something stupid to Tanimoto and ruin everything. I've gotta be better. Richard sat alone in the lounge, eating the leftover adzuki jelly. It tasted just like red bean paste, but it was clear and there were goldfish—both common and fancy ones—swimming in the sweet, delicate substance. A little while ago, I asked him if he thought Japanese confections paired well with milk tea, and he glared at me, saying I was belittling royal milk tea. It was starting to seem more like a religious belief than mere opinion. Richard called my name, as though he noticed I'd been staring at him. He was still looking at the dessert as he spoke. "What? If you tell me not to look at you, I won't."

"The only relationship between you and I is that of employer and employee. Praising my appearance won't make me any more inclined to raise your wages, and I'm sure you're aware of that. Praise with ulterior motives is just sycophantic bootlicking. That said, earnest, spontaneous words of praise are an exclamation of sorts, nothing more and nothing less. The natural beauty of gemstones—even of those with little financial value—can soothe the hearts of people and grant them strength to keep going. I believe that is the true value of beauty." "I think I get what you're saying. That's kind of how I feel whenever I look at you." "Then perhaps it would be fair to say that your ‘you're beautiful’ comments are essentially the equivalent of ‘I'm in a good mood because the weather is so lovely today.’ They do not bother me." "Thank you. Well, if I do say something like that again by accident, I would really appreciate it if you just brushed it off." I forced a smile, and Richard frowned. What did I do this time? "...While it may not bother me, surely you have invited your fair share of unfortunate misunderstandings by making rash comments without much thought?"

maybe I shouldn’t have said that ALL-TIMER

I began wiping down the table, and Richard returned with a sullen look on his face. He looked a little red, even.

me when I lie This is my favorite bit ever by the way. richard you are so so so sick. and you brought this on yourself :)

Refusing to look me in the eye, my boss sat back down in one of the lounge chairs by the window and clasped his hands. He looked like something was bothering him, and it didn't seem like a sudden stomachache. The whole thing was very unusual. Richard silently stared out the window for a bit before abruptly mumbling, “...I wonder if he really deserved to own that amethyst." "What?" What was he going on about? Didn't he land the sale he was working on that whole time? Richard hung his head, burying it in his clasped hands. "I believe that every stone deserves to end up in the hands of someone who understands its true beauty and will treasure it—such would be a happy ending for both parties. But it makes me wonder... How should I put this... Yes, perhaps I, too, have acted rashly." "You mean you wish you hadn't sold it to him?" "Rather that I wonder if selling it to him was the right decision." There's a difference? Richard was being weird. I'd never seen him question a sale like that before. I know he said he was used to it, but after the way that customer treated him, maybe it put him in a bad mood. No, he didn't really seem irritated. The beautiful jewelry store owner had a weary expression on his face, like he was worried it might rain tomorrow. "Well, he bought it because he wanted it. Gemstones are products, after all. And if he paid the price you set, he must have felt that amethyst was worth at least that much. I don't see the issue." "I don't think that's the whole story. I think the thing he was most taken with wasn't the stone at all." "...But you?" My boss scowled at me, silently ordering me to be quiet. If I was wrong, I wondered what he was getting at? His seemingly endless well of sales talk? Or the relaxing atmosphere of the shop itself? Richard seemed deeply distressed by the whole thing, but nothing was making sense to me. Mr. Takatsuki didn't seem like the kind of person who particularly needed our concern. He liked his job, and sure, he was a little overbearing at times, but he seemed like a fun guy. He definitely came off as a bit impulsive, but there were tons of guys like that at my school, who ran on nothing but vibes and passion.

go figure that seigi’s already coming around on him. the world's sweetest person competition hates to see him coming

"I don't really think you have anything to worry about, but... I think every person who buys gems has their own reasons for doing it and their own reasons for liking them. It probably just put him in a good mood when he put that beautiful stone on, and he'll get over not being able to hire you." "There's only so much a good mood can do. Working in that sort of industry is rough, no matter what country you're in. I don't believe he really meant what he said. The disparity between his words and his actions suggests some kind of cognitive dissonance." "You're reading too much into it. I don't think he was thinking that deeply about anything he said. I thought you said you were used to people making passes at you? Don't worry about it so much." "That's not what I mean. Those who grow intoxicated with beauty far beyond their means are destined to fall to ruin." "Intoxicated with beauty" and "destined to fall to ruin" would probably rank pretty high up there if there were a "phrases I'd love to say some day" ranking. What is he even talking about?

SEIGI YOU ARE SOOOO LAME……. why does this exchange read so shakespearean to me also

I looked at Richard bashfully and explained that I had a crush on this girl and she was my friend at school who loved rocks and was super cute. I explained that, long story short, someone told her that they'd seen me in the Jaguar. The porcelain-faced beauty stared at me as he jabbed his fork into the remaining goldfish jelly, slicing the decorative fish clear in half. Please, I'm begging you, just get it over with. "So, uh, I was wondering... I have my driver's license. I drive my mom's car all the time, and I've never been in an accident or pulled over." "That's an impressive record for someone who seems like he'd be constantly distracted behind the wheel. Fascinating story."

SOOOOO ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!

"Don't assume the worst about me! I believe in safety first. I'm especially careful to check for children or elderly pedestrians, I yield to vehicles behind me, and I'll even drive below the speed limit just in case something happens. I don't get mad or panic if I hear someone honk at me from behind, either." I'd be in trouble if someone asked me to floor it, but I was confident in my safe driving skills. I was such a safe driver that when I drove my mom to work when she had a cold, she praised me saying, "I think you drove almost too safe." For some reason, she didn't let me drive very much after that, though. Richard smiled sweetly. He was like a jewel sitting in direct sunlight. I got my hopes up for a positive response. "They're about five million used, from what I understand." "What?" "Jaguars. I hope the drive is worth it." Um, that's not what I meant. I was hoping you'd understand that I was asking to borrow yours—is what I nearly said before I gave up. Richard skewered both pieces of the jelly with his fork and ate them in one bite. How brutal. This was bad. He had a terrifying aura about him. He had this look in his eyes like if I opened my mouth now, he'd say he'd kill me. Richard probably hated talking about personal stuff during work. I guess I should have known after how he reacted to me showing up hungover. "My mind is exhausted from speaking so much of my non-native language. Tea." "Yessir, I'll be right back." "But first, where's my change?" "...It was only 40 yen." "Change."

wrote here ENFADOSO!!!!! you are an ANNOYING MAN!!!!!!!! and it's . sooo fucking funny. bitch4bitch I can't take you two ANYWHERE

I guess no matter how casual the workplace, bosses are still bosses and employees are still employees. I mean, this wasn't a host club, and I'd never been chewed out by my boss, but I supposed expecting him to be so lenient that I could get away with not following instructions was out of the question. I had to get my act together.

- things to say when you will not be getting your act together

The following Friday, I was dragged along to go drinking with some college friends. We ended up in the same bar in Roppongi as last week. One of the older guys in my prep class was very eager to invite me. I thought the professor would be coming, but that wasn't the case at all—even the guy who invited me ended up not being able to make it. It ended up being a peculiar party made up of just six second year students. There were no girls in the class to begin with, so there wasn't even that to look forward to. It was a trendy bar, but not the kind of place a bunch of single guys could really relax. The interior design was so overdone, all form over function. The prices were middling, and there wasn't much in the way of food. After two hours of partying, things were starting to drag. "That reminds me, Seigi, you quit your weekend shifts. I hardly see you at all these days, man." "Yeah, I started another part-time job." "What kind of job?" I knew if I answered honestly, saying I worked at a jewelry store mostly serving tea, it would turn into a Q&A session since everyone was bored and didn't have anything else to talk about. What should I say instead, though? That I was handing out flyers? No, that wouldn't be believable. I'd be getting paid more working the night shift than that. "Uh, um… I'm in the hospitality industry."

nice answer that doesn’t invite questions, dummy

"Oh, are we doing twenty questions? Are you a host?" "Seriously?! How much does it pay? What's the place like?" "No hostesses there? Are there any hotties? Like among your customers?" "You're gonna destroy your liver working a job like that. That shit is seriously rough." I guess the Q&A session was unavoidable after all. I was an idiot for trying to lie about it. Convincing them they were wrong was going to be a pain. I visualized the fictitious club. The owner was a foreigner, and I served drinks. We got a lot of customers from overseas and the prices were reasonable. Honestly, it wasn't that far off the mark. I mostly told them the truth—other than the fact that it was a jewelry shop—and my drunk classmates listened intently. I got a little carried away and started speaking triumphantly about how attractive my boss was—the blond-haired blue-eyed polyglot who was possessed of such overwhelming beauty that it was hard to believe that such a living creature even existed. The atmosphere changed when I got to that topic. They were all staring at me for some reason. "...So you're, like, alone with this boss of yours in the shop?" "Whoa, that's sick. What do you two get up to when there are no customers around?" "What do you mean, what do we get up to? I make drinks, clean, and run errands. Stuff like that." When they asked me how I'd gotten the job, I told them that I'd saved my now boss from some drunks on the street one night. The moment I mentioned that, the dull atmosphere did a total 180. My drunk classmates openly scowled at me and started hurling insults my way. "Dang, dude, you really... Nah, no way." "What? I don't understand." “It’s like she got handed to you on a silver platter. Let me switch places with you!” "Just hurry up and get dumped and have your dreams crushed so you can go cry alone in your room." "Wait, wait, wait, wait!" For some reason they didn't believe me when I clarified that my boss was a man. It was so unfair. I wasn't lying. They kept insisting that because I said he was attractive, I must have feelings for him. It made no sense. Why did I have to be in love with someone just because I thought they're beautiful?

seigi you are truly one of a kind. god bless. also I’m sure a number of you out there can make something of this if you put your mind to it

"I mean it's not like there's just one type of beauty! It's like Mt. Fuji on New Year's Day, or the sun setting over the horizon, that kind of beauty! It's like one of those things accidentally took human form by some twist of fate. Dating isn't even a question for the kind of thing I'm talking about." "What the hell is a hottie like Mt. Fuji? You're not making any sense." "What, is your boss some kind of literal angel?" "Yeah right."

closest they got and they call it off. you guys are hopeless By the way women aren’t objects guys. not cool.

The whole thing was torture, but I guessed I got what I deserved for making up an elaborate story when I wasn't a good liar to begin with. I just stopped caring, cut out early, and went home. My friend, Shimomura, said he'd walk me to the station. I tried to lose him when we left the club, but he stopped me with an "um, so..." and an awkward look on his face. "I know you probably don't know this, but the guy from our cram class who invited us here owns this club." "What?" "He wanted to be his own boss, so he got into the food services industry, but it's still not turning a profit. Seems like he's friends with the third years, so he's been using us as fodder." Now it all made sense. That was why he specifically took us to Roppongi, of all places. There was supposedly a pretty strong business focus in that prep class, so it made sense that the older students might be starting up on their own. He must've been losing money. I told him I didn't know and thanked him, and Shimomura gave a strained smile. "You know, I think I kinda get what you were talking about earlier. I know it's dumb, but I love getting to see Tokyo Tower out the window of the Yamanote Line so much I could just die. The view from around Hamamatsucho Station is the best—it's that angle right across from the JOQR building. You only get to see it for the second because the train's moving, but it's incredible around sunset. Just a taste of that view recharges my batteries even when I'm exhausted. I think that's the kind of beauty you were talking about, right?"

SHIMOMURA ❤️ OUR FRIEND SHIMOMURA ❤️

"Yes. Yes, that's what I was talking about. That's exactly what I was talking about." I felt like my head might come off from nodding so much. Shimomura's face crumpled into a smile that seemed like a 50/50 mixture of happiness and discomfort. "That sorta thing is so hard to talk about." "…I wish you could've said that back at the club. Also, there's nothing dumb about it." "You think so? I took a girl on the train at my favorite time during a first date and told her to look when we got to the spot, but it just confused her. Just a 'Huh? What?' and that was it. I guess not everyone has the same idea of what's beautiful." "Well, I'm one hundred percent positive you'd be bowled over if you met my boss. I guarantee it." "I'm just glad you're happy."

"Not going home yet?" "I'll hang out until the last train. I don't have any reason to go home really. See ya." The night had ended without me clearing up much of anything with the guys, but I thought I got through to Shimomura and that was good enough for me. I knew exactly what he meant when he said that not everyone had the same idea of what was beautiful. There were as many models of beauty as there were people in the world. There was nothing you could be entirely certain that every single person would find "beautiful." At least, that made sense to me. Though I wasn't sure I'd make the leap from that to the idea that you think something's beautiful just because of love. I didn't think love and beauty were the same at all. Sure, there could be things you loved because they're beautiful and things you thought were beautiful because you loved them, but I didn't think they were the same. [...]

this is a gun I'm realizing. I'll just take the bullet wound for now so we can keep it moving

[...] If I was going to take a stance on anything from now on, it's that. My feelings for Tanimoto were wholly unique. I couldn't compare them to my feelings for anyone or anything else. I wondered when I'd be able to muster the courage to tell her I was in love with her and wanted to go out with her? Maybe she'd tell me she loved me, too, with that adorable smile on her face. Well, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. I had to deal with the sports car thing first. What was I supposed to do? I wished I could find a clever way to tell her I didn't actually own the car without disappointing her. I wanted to find a way to make a grand comeback and turn my mistake into an opportunity. The voice in the back of my mind betrayed me though, vividly reminding me that it wouldn't work and that I should just give up already. I guessed people kind of got drunk on love and flip-flopped between visions of heaven and hell. My thoughts kept racing to either extreme. What if it made her hate me and she wouldn’t text me anymore, let alone talk to me? No, I just needed a good opportunity to take her on a rock-themed date or something. But what kind of date would that even be? Going out somewhere with hammers to mine rocks?

My more immediate concern was that I still couldn't move my leg, buried in trash bags. They seemed suspiciously heavy. I strained my eyes in the dark to see what it was. In the pile of trash beneath my feet, atop the transparent bags of trash, was... ...a person. "Wah!" They'd fallen over, splayed out flat on their face. And they weren't moving. Surely, they were just asleep, right? Just in case, I timidly touched the person's throat with my hand and felt a pulse. But they were very warm. "Are you okay? I can call an ambulance," I said loudly, but their response was slow. The person just groaned. They were wearing a grey button-down shirt and a vest made of a shiny black material. And they stank of booze. "Do you remember your name? How old are you?" “...Satoshiii Takatsuki. I'm twenty-seveeeen." Satoshi Takatsuki? Wait. That Satoshi Takatsuki? His body slid off the pile of trash bags and did a half tumble on his way down, landing on his butt as he hit the ground. He was positioned like an awkwardly sat up teddy bear, his face was red, and he was barely conscious. I lifted up his chin a bit to get a better look at his face. He was burning up. It was dark, so I could barely make out his features, but I knew this wasn't good. I used the telephone pole to confirm the street we were on, called an ambulance, and ran to the red-light district. I feel like this has been a recurring theme in my life lately. I asked the women for help with someone who'd passed out. They reacted quickly, like this was a common occurrence for them. Three people from separate shops came to help, but none of them knew who he was or where he worked. I told them his name was Takatsuki, but it didn't help. Before long, one of them headed back to their shop and returned with a pitcher full of water. Sirens and flashing lights approached while he was still vaguely conscious. Mr. Takatsuki groaned, and his head flopped over. I noticed something glittering around his neck. It was a gemstone. It was an amethyst pendant set in gold and dangling off a delicate golden chain. Two helmet-wearing EMTs came out of the ambulance, asking if anyone knew the man. It was becoming a bit of a scene, and people in suits and dresses started emerging from the other shops. I timidly responded. "…His name is Satoshi Takatsuki, and he says he's 27 years old." One of the EMTs kept calling his name. I looked around, but no one else responded. Even when another call went out for anyone that might know him, people just exchanged confused glances amongst themselves. I had an awful feeling about letting them take him off to the hospital alone. "I'll go with you." "What's your relation to the man?" “...He's one of our clients." "Are you sure you want to do this?" I nodded. I wasn't lying, either. I'd gotten a good look at his face when they laid him out on the stretcher. It really was him. His arms and legs flapped about, and he began shouting the name "Nozomi" over and over. I sent off a text just before I got into the ambulance. It was nearly midnight, but I figured he'd still be up. My boss, that was.

seeeeiiiiiigiiiiiiiiiiii…………….. you're too good....... and awfully confident about richard here. What would you do if he actually kept regular hours

The sliding door opened up, revealing a four-bed room. The morning light was blinding as it poured in through the windows. White frame beds sat atop the featureless cream floor. Only one of the four beds was occupied, by a tan man in hospital pajamas. "Hey." I gave a cheerful greeting, and Satoshi opened his eyes before crumpling back into bed, bitter expression on his face. "Oh, it's you... Um, what was your name again?" "Seigi Nakata. You really gave me a scare last night. Are you okay now?" "Well, as you can see, I'm not dead. When I woke up, they told me a young man who described me as a 'customer' came with me and waited until I was out of the woods. I couldn't figure out what shop it coulda been for the life of me... Um... What the hell were you doin' out there anyway? Also, it's Saturday, isn't it? Shouldn't you be working in Ginza right now?" "My boss let me come in late today. Trust me, I'm more shocked about that than anyone." "...You know, I never wanted to be the kind of old man who makes kids take care of him."

WHO SAID YOU’RE OLD!!!!!!!! sweet thing to say though, Averagely Aged Man

I sat down next to his bed, and Satoshi gave a defeated shrug. "You probably figured it out already, but I'm not actually a host." Satoshi began to tell his story in bits and pieces. His amethyst pendant was strewn on the table next to a cup of water. It looked much duller than it had when it was back at the shop. But maybe it was just the hospital's fluorescent lighting not doing it any favors. Satoshi explained that he was a bartender at a club in Roppongi. It was primarily a hostess club, not a host club. He said he didn't have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol, "just an average one." Two glasses of wine would have him dizzy and forgetting things, almost like he'd been drugged. […]

categorically Not an average tolerance for alcohol but sure

[…] But despite that, it was a point of pride for him that he had a very thorough understanding of the flavor of each alcohol. His family ran a vineyard in the mountains of Nagano. He described it as "painfully out in the boonies," in a hushed, embarrassed voice.

Nozomi was more of the bubbly, cutesy type of hostess. She overflowed with powerful customer service energy. She was the type of person who couldn't say "no" when everyone was having fun. She could never bring herself to pressure clients into drinking themselves into oblivion, so she'd offer to drink for them. As a result, despite being two years younger than Satoshi, her gamma-glutamyl transferase levels were already in dangerous territory. "Gamma… what?" "Glutamyl transferase." "I'm surprised you can remember that." "Of course I can, it's about Nozomi," Satoshi said like it was a given. It sounded as though she was like family to him already. "It's not like you can't make money if you don't drink like that, but she likes having fun with her customers, and she can't say no to their suggestions. I did tell her to just stop drinking, for the record." "Guess that didn't really work though, huh?" "You can't survive in the business if you don't drink at all. Honestly, if I really wanted to stop her, I'd have to get her to quit her job. But we're barely scraping by with both our earnings right now. I know tons of kids your age who want to work part-time in the biz, but it's really not a great line of work. Your liver can't hold out forever." "But when you came to our shop, you were putting on this whole influential host act." “……” He groaned and put his head in his hands. "Are you okay?" “…Nozomi's gotten obsessed with a host lately. That's where all her money's going—to supporting him." I let out a little "huh?" and Satoshi gave me a dubious look. The tone of his grumbling made it sound like it was nothing out of the ordinary, but the subject matter didn't seem to mesh with that. His girlfriend was seeing a host? "But you're still together...?" "Yeah... I'd be mad if she was dating another man, but hosts are kinda like idols. When they're on the clock, they might technically be men, but they're not 'real,' in a way. I dunno if that makes any sense to you, though. It's just like how someone being a hostess's number one client doesn't mean they're dating her." That was true, I supposed, but was he really satisfied with that arrangement? I looked at him trying to find an answer in his face, and he just laughed with a ragged expression. I guess not. "Nozomi lives for the night life. I know that. And I know that's why she spends money on that guy. She says that it's fun for her to see him having fun at the club with her money, that it makes her feel accomplished. It just sounds so depressing... but it's depressing for me, too. I mean, who is this host guy anyway? Don't you already have a bartender for a boyfriend? At most, we're talking the difference between a common goldfish and a fancy breed—they're still both goldfish." "I guess that sounds kinda like the difference between Richard and me."

classic comparison to make, thank you seigi. I can always count on you.

"It's torture." Apparently Nozomi had told him that hosts were just "dazzling." This was the guy who told me that regular men only look at hosts with one of two things in their eyes: disgust or jealousy. And that it tended to be jealousy for men who were in love. When his girlfriend essentially told him that he wasn't "dazzling," he made a decision. He would make a change. He would work to become the owner of a host club rather than a lowly bartender. "So you decided to... Wait, are you being serious? That's so reckless." "That's easy for you to say when you have no idea how much a popular host can make in a night. It's absurd. A club or two can get by on one popular guy. That's how this world works. I'm not kidding when I say attractive men can keep the world turning." “…Still, I think it's a pretty crazy idea." He looked a little embarrassed. Of course, I didn't know anything about the industry, but I was a little dubious that success could come so easily. I feel like host clubs would be all over the place if it really was that simple. The most laid-back person in my prep class has to be either me or Shimomura, and I just knew even he'd be a little suspicious if I asked his opinion on this. If a good man was enough to bring customers in, you'd first need to find that man—which was why Satoshi had been walking around Tokyo looking for "dazzling" men. He started pretending to be a host because it was hard to imagine getting a favorable response from people with, "Hi, I'm a bartender, would you like to become a host?" "But I couldn't find the right guy. The young ones would always get nervous at the mere mention of the industry, and when I got a bite, they'd immediately start asking me to lend them money." "Well... I guess that's to be expected..." He had zeroed in on the area around jewelry shops to hunt for host candidates. I think his theory that men going to buy jewelry either were hosts or would be interested in becoming one was pretty off the mark, but regardless, his dedication to getting something done when he put his mind to it was impressive. At any rate, he would loiter near jewelry shops and approach men going into or coming out of them. Whenever the employees chased him off, he'd move to another store. Just listening to the story was starting to get painful. After failing more times than he could count, Satoshi found himself meandering around the shops on the outskirts of Ginza. That was when he saw something that hit him like a bolt of lightning. Richard. "I was so shocked. A man who looked like he'd stepped right out of a classic Hollywood film was standing there, talking to a shop owner in fluent Japanese. I heard them chatting about how the sponge cake at that cafe over there was delicious and how he wishes the public bath nearby offered laundry services, too, and so on. […]

typical richard points of discussion. typical thing for him to do.

[…] After he left, I asked the shop owner about him and was told he owned a new jewelry shop in the area. I thought it must be fate. I mean, seriously, if anyone's born to be a host, it's him. Honestly, why is he in the jewelry business? He could make a living off that face alone." "I'm not sure he'd appreciate it if you told him that." "I'm being serious though." Put it the wrong way, and "you have a nice face" can sound like it comes with an implicit, "and it's the only aspect of you that has any value." Of course, Richard's looks were definitely extraordinary, and I didn't doubt he'd have at least the same power to attract guests that the pandas at Ueno Zoo[—”]

SEIGI.

[“—]did. But it wasn't like he just stumbled into being an Englishman with perfect Japanese running jewelry shop by no effort of his own. "...I mean, he came all the way from Europe to Japan to open a jewelry shop. I think he has a pretty good reason to be doing that." "Like what?" "I don't know, but maybe he just loves what he does?" He went silent. I wondered why. He had a weird expression, like he'd seen the straight ball I threw him coming but still took it to the face, and hard. I casually made the comment that if Richard wanted an easy life, he could probably go anywhere and have an affair with a member of some royal family, and Satoshi flashed a big, toothy host smile. It reminded me a bit of Shimomura's smile when he saw me off from the bar the other day—thirty percent happiness, seventy percent bitterness, and full of resignation. "What I wanna say is, he could just work for me, then." "All right, let's say you did get him on board. What was your plan after that?" "I decided I'd just go with the flow and figure it out from there. As far as the money goes, I could just get a loan. I think even if I confessed that I was really just a bartender, as long as I got a location rented, I could make it work somehow." "That's a pretty sorry excuse for a plan. You should probably be glad it failed."

SEIGI.

"You're probably right." This time the smile was closer to eighty percent bitterness. It hardly qualified as a smile anymore. Mr. Takatsuki wiped the sweat from his brow and his moist eyes with his pajama sleeve. "The thing is, I really hate the person I am right now. I love Nozomi, but I can't keep her safe and happy, and I'll never outshine a host. I can't even increase our income. I don't have anything. I've been scraping by, trying not to think about it for so long, but I don't think my body can take any more of this lifestyle. I feel burnt out, like the walls are closing in on me. That's when I found your jewelry shop. I kept thinking to myself, what the hell are you doing, man? Are you just gonna be a good-for-nothing drunk for the rest of your life?" “...So that's what the amethyst was about." "I went in planning to buy something, not really caring what it was. It was a lot less expensive than I thought." Almost exactly a week after he visited Richard's shop, he put on that amethyst pendant and went out. Nozomi had a client that made her drink a ton again that day, and she went into her usual routine. Normally, Satoshi would just watch from his place behind the counter, but for some reason, he just couldn't bear it that night. He put himself in the ring this time, downing all of Nozomi's drinks for her, making merry and drinking even more. The customer clapped for joy at seeing the bartender who usually rarely drank at all cutting loose, and Satoshi just kept drinking and drinking and drinking as long as the customer insisted. When he was starting to have a hard time standing, he slipped out the back of the club. Satoshi forced an awkward smile. Apparently, I had a pretty horrified look on my face. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't actually think legend about the amethyst preventing drunkenness was real. It was completely my fault. You and your boss had nothing to do with it." "That's not why I'm concerned. Do you know how many people die every year of acute alcohol poisoning? It's really not funny. And why did you leave the club like that? That was so dangerous." "I mean, I was drunk. Plus, I didn't want Nozomi to see me make a fool of myself." "You passed out in a pile of garbage."

SEIGI!!!!!!

“...I do remember making it two blocks down the street." He muttered to himself that he was surprised he was still alive and put his hands in mine. "Your name was... Seigi, right? I remember the EMTs saying your name. Thank you. You saved my life. And I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble." "You really don't need to apologize to me. What are you planning to do now?" "I called the club earlier. I got chewed out and fired. Dating the hostesses is against the rules, so Nozomi might be in trouble, too. I'm worried. It doesn't take much to make her cry. She's always bawling at every little thing." "Did you call Nozomi?" "I texted her that I was in the hospital this morning. I figured she'd still be asleep." He smiled without reservation. He smiled again when I gave him a concerned look. It was a defiant smile. The defeat that had colored all his expressions thus far had vanished. "It's so weird. I've done something so stupid, but for some reason I don't regret any of it." I gave him an indignant look, and he put his hands together and apologized profusely. "What am I gonna do now... You know, I think I might try going back to the country. My parents have a vineyard, see. I'm the oldest son, but I kinda shirked my duties. If I help out, surely they'll let even their good-for-nothing son sleep under their roof. Plus, the grapes my old man produces sparkle like gems. They're delicious, to boot." "What about Nozomi?" "You really know how to hit a guy when he's down. I'm a farmer at heart. I'm a totally different breed from a hostess, and our incompatibility couldn't be more obvious now. I'm not good enough for her. And I'm not old fashioned enough to ask her to come with me." "Does that mean you're breaking up with her?" He went quiet and thought for a moment before silently shaking his head. "I can't give up on her. I want her to wait for me. I'm gonna tell her I'll come back to Tokyo someday, so if she can bear it—" "Sounds like you're expecting a lot of patience. How do you know you won't meet someone else while you're in Nagano? Are you sure you don't actually want her to come with you?" "Of course I do! I love her! But it's not that simple." He sounded genuinely mad. I was still a little worried but figured I'd said enough. "Did you hear that? That's how he feels!" I said, half shouting. The door to the room opened without a sound, and a bubbly, cutesy woman tottered in. Her brown hair was a mess, and she had a seasonally inappropriate coat on over her dress. She clutched a pink towel, and her whole face was red from crying. Satoshi shouted, "Nozomi!" "How dumb can you be?! Why are you so stupid?! You can't still be drunk! You big, stupid, useless idiot!" "What are you doing here?" "Oh, shut up, dummy! Obviously, I'm here because I was worried about you!" I left Satoshi in his panic and got up from my seat. Nozomi sat down in my place, wiping her face with the towel while giving Satoshi a couple of gentle smacks across the face. "You almost died! How can you act like barely anything happened... Don't text me when it's something that important, you oaf! Call me! You big, stupid dummy... Maybe you should just go die for real!" "I'm sorry, Nozomi. I'm so sorry." "I can never leave you alone. I guess I have no choice but to go with you," Nozomi said, clutching Satoshi's hands and falling onto the bed in tears. I left the room with a big grin on my face and walked down the hall. I bowed to one of the nurses near the elevator, and she responded in kind.

I know the answer. I know. but Could you two be normal people for a change

Richard checked his watch. It was 10:30 a.m. If we took the Jaguar, we could get back to the store by 11:00 easily. "You could have gone back without me." "And without access to a car, you would be late to work."

no they can’t . what a shock

I'd contacted Richard while I was stuck waiting at the hospital. He was initially in a very bad mood because he'd already gone to bed, but when I explained the situation, he let out a sigh and asked me when visiting hours started. We'd had basically the same idea: I'd go home, get some rest, then meet up in Ginza and take Richard's green Jaguar to the hospital. As we were coming up into the hospital from the underground parking, we ran into a woman who'd arrived by taxi. Her eyes were red, and she had an ostentatious hairstyle that didn't really match her hastily cobbled-together wardrobe. We ended up in the same elevator, got off on the same floor, and were headed in the same direction. When I saw her write the name "Nozomi Kanzaki" in big bubble letters on the guest form, I remembered what Satoshi had been shouting the previous night: Nozomi. I took her aside and asked her if she wouldn't happen to know a Satoshi Takatsuki, and I was right. What little composure she had left dissolved. She broke down crying and told us all the dirty details of Satoshi's rampage the previous night. He barged in on a party, got drunk, and disappeared before anyone realized. He didn't come back by closing time. The owner was furious and fired him on the spot. Nozomi was worried about him, so she went looking for him after closing time, only to find an ambulance had taken a bartender away and was told what hospital they'd taken him to. She cried as she disparaged him. She had no idea why he'd done it. She broke down sobbing, saying that if he was unhappy with something, he should have just talked to her about it, and that she didn't know what to do anymore. And the person who got down on his knees to catch her was none other than my boss. When she saw Richard's face, Nozomi blushed with embarrassment, asking what club he was from again. We had a little meeting on the bench in front of the nurses' station. A sort of strategy meeting. Richard was the ideas man. Nozomi gave the go-ahead, and I was the one assigned to execute it. The plan was simple, really, I'd use my position as the person who saved his life to get him to talk honestly about what was going on. Honestly, I wasn't crazy about the idea in the beginning. I mean, there could be some circumstances behind the whole situation that might be better left unsaid, and Nozomi might get hurt. But Richard looked at me with calm eyes the whole time. We might not have known each other all that long, but—and I know this sounds crazy—I didn't want to do anything that could bring him unhappiness. I almost felt like I couldn't do that to him. I had the feeling that Richard had already gotten a pretty solid read on the situation before he even proposed the plan.

I know this sounds crazy, he says. seigi Did you know? You just said one of the most obvious things in the world to us just now

Nozomi encouraged me, telling me to "give 'im hell!", and I braced myself for what I was about to do. In the end, it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. While we were in the elevator, which was big enough to fit a hospital bed, I asked Richard a question. "What exactly was bothering you so much when Mr. Takatsuki left the shop? Don't tell me you knew this would happen."

"You could tell he wasn't really a host though, right?" "Someone who is confident in their profession doesn't go out of their way to boast about it indiscriminately. He had the feeling of a buzzing mosquito, following you everywhere, yet easily charmed by the flame of a candle." "So that's what was going through your head while you were talking about gemstones. Scary..." "Excuse you." Richard pondered it on his own for a bit after that, saying he had the sense that what Satoshi had been after wasn't actually a gemstone. "So what was he after in the end? Maybe it really was a host." "I don't think that's the case. The thing he wanted from the very bottom of his heart wasn't a piece of jewelry but something that would make him feel like it gave him a power-up." "A power-up? Like a magic accessory in a video game?" "It's not magic, but you often hear stories about people who don't normally wear jewelry acting differently when they do. Wearing jewelry makes them more acutely aware of themselves and how others look at them, and they act accordingly. Beautiful gemstones have a unique power to their beauty." "So they can kinda influence people's behavior. Like a fancy stone might make a woman feel compelled to act more elegantly?" "Or it might make her more arrogant or less cautious about spending money." "These all sound like bad things." "Of course, gemstones can have a positive influence on behavior as well. Like an athlete's good luck charm or, on the more extreme end, the way the crown jewels are said to bestow wisdom on their wearer. At any rate, humans are creatures that grow in order to accomplish their own desires. A gemstone might act as a catalyst for action, but they are not the engine—only the heart can provide the fuel for that." “...That sounds kind of scary." "You're absolutely hopeless." Satoshi had had a carefree smile on his face, but if anything had gone differently, he could have died. As the thought of how close to the brink he'd come last night sent a chill down my spine, Richard continued talking. "While I don't dispute that it's up to the individual to determine what they do and where, as a simple lover of gemstones, I would like to do what I can to prevent situations where beautiful stones bring unhappiness to others. Let us be thankful for your extraordinary luck." My shoulders drooped. There couldn't be many part-time jobs that came with so many extra obligations.

okay seigi you need to listen to me closely: there aren't that many extra obligations. you just take them on yourself. you are doing this to yourself. I love you very much also

When the elevator arrived at the first floor, a pajama-clad elderly person and an accompanying younger person were waiting in front of the door. The way Richard startled the moment the door opened was kind of funny. We left the hospital from there. I wondered if Nozomi had stopped crying yet. "You know, I was wondering. I noticed when you explained what the word amethyst comes from meant you said that it meant 'to not become intoxicated by alcohol' and not for 'alcohol not to intoxicate you.' I don't entirely understand what the difference in nuance is, but you seemed very particular about your choice of words there." "Oh, you have an interest in Greek grammar? It's a difference in voice: active vs. passive. And the Greek word happens to be in the passive voice." "Nope, I don't. And even if I were, I'm definitely not that interested!" As we headed toward the door to the underground parking lot, the jeweler gave me a fast-paced lecture. He explained that back in the era when most people believed that gemstones possessed magical powers, people used to believe that amethysts would ward off intoxication, and thus their owners would, "not become intoxicated by alcohol." For however many thousands of years alcohol has existed, people have probably always overindulged and suffered for it. Even if you took Satoshi's story, for example, he acted recklessly because he wanted to protect Nozomi and didn't want her to get drunk. The way they got there was pretty awful, but I guess in the end, everything turned out all right. "Who was that god of wine again? Bacchus? Sounds like a pretty lazy guardian deity to me." "In various tales, Bacchus, also known as Dionysus, is a passionate god who is no stranger to drunkenly barging in on parties. Perhaps, in a sense, you could say he did bless our wayward client." "You should definitely not mention that to him." Richard gave me a look, like he was surprised I was telling him something so obvious. He pushed the button on his key fob when we got to the parking lot. The car made a couple of beeps as it awoke. I decided this might be my best shot. "Ahh, today's been such a lovely day, huh? We saw a love story end well—doesn't it just make you feel good about the world? I gotta hand it to you, your cupid strategy was a total success. I wonder what those two are gonna do next." "You know, I've been thinking this since I was waiting outside the room earlier, but you really are an atrocious actor." "I'm sure that if Tanimoto and I had someone in our corner who was so smart and honorable, then—" "There are those who say that love is a disease of the heart. Let us pray upon the power of the stone that prevents one from becoming intoxicated to swiftly quell your fever. Well, I guess people only tend to think something counts once what's behind the curtain is revealed. I think the moment satiating your vanity becomes your foremost priority, your budding romance has much more significant problems to worry about."

I was pretty sure that even if I passed the civil service exam in one try, I'd never be able to afford a Jaguar. But I wanted to be able to experience this indescribable slow-speed rollercoaster ride with her someday, even just once. I wanted to savor the feeling of our familiar world becoming an unfamiliar space with her. Though maybe she would just go, "Huh? What?" But maybe she would smile at me softly.

We'd stopped next to a hotel with a concert hall attached. I guessed it was a pretty fancy area. I'd never stayed at the hotel or even gone inside, so you might be wondering how I knew about it. Well, it all went back to a rather painful and pathetic moment last Christmas, when I was diligently doing research just in case I ever got a girlfriend.

seigi......... why's THIS the part that makes the chapter topical. you're so LAME!!!!! and SWEET ALSO SOMEHOW. let me throw rocks at you

Thank you. Thank you, past me. If I could go back in time and let you know that your lonely, girlfriendless internet browsing would pay off, I would. I feel like that could have kept you from suffering in vain. The customer that day was a man from the Maldives. He had a cheerful chat with Richard in a language I couldn't even recognize as they ate the tropical mousse I'd bought.

and that concludes this edition of Seigi Sunday on "The Amethyst of Protection". on this Still christmas.* Merry Christmas! and happy holidays!!! That ones not out of date :)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Eyes and Ears

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: An AU where Barbara finds Jason instead of Bruce.

Chapters: 20/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character(s), Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Older SIbling Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Jason Todd is NOT Robin, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Has a Crush, Adopted Siblings

Chapter Twenty: Bash/Ball

"Let me get one more picture," Jim smiled. Jason's shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "It's your first dance. I just want to make sure I get enough pictures. Now, Barbara, come take a picture with your brother—."

"Pop," Jason complained. Jim's eyes widened as he motioned for them to stand close to each other.

Jason held his cape up to his face as he stood next to Barbara. He looked over at her and whispered, "I'm Batman," in a gruff voice. Barbara let out a laugh, and Jim snapped a picture of the two of them laughing.

"This is the last picture, I promise," Jim whispered as he put the camera on a timer and set it on the kitchen counter. "I tested it earlier. Stand right here," Jim replied as he took one photo with Barbara and Jason. After that, Jason said goodnight to Barbara and followed Jim down to the car.

Jim waited a while before pulling off, and he handed Jason his wallet. "Get a twenty out of my wall—."

"You've got a picture of me in here," Jason whispered.

"Well, I think it'd be awful hard to brag about you without a visual," Jim joked, "But really, you're my son. Why wouldn't I have your picture in my wallet? Before this year is over, I'll probably have to build a mantle or something for all the new pictures."

Jason smiled as Jim drove. "I love you, Pop," Jason whispered. Jim took a deep breath so that he wouldn't get all choked up, and he smiled.

"I love you too, Son," Jim whispered, "And I want you to have fun tonight. If you don't call me to pick you up early, I'll be back for you at midnight."

"Do these things really run until midnight?" Jason asked. Jim nodded. "Wow. And you're okay with me staying the whole time if I wanna?"

"Yeah, why not. You stay at school 'til ten p.m. most nights, what's two hours difference?" Jim smiled. Jason put on his mask in the mirror. "I know you didn't go last year, but I was wondering if you were gonna go trick-or-treating with your friends this year?"

"I can still do that?" Jason asked. Jim nodded. "Well, I'll probably just go with Barbara or Reese and A.J. if they wanna go."

"You're not gonna ask the girls?" Jim asked.

"No, they go out of town for Halloween," Jason replied.

"A.J. and Reese are those football boys, right?" Jim asked. Jason nodded and chuckled.

Jim dropped Jason off at the dance and waved goodbye, and Jason entered the ballroom. He walked around the ballroom looking for his friends, and he was approached by a girl who told him he couldn't reveal his identity as part of the ball's theme. Jason nodded and adjusted his posture. Jason figured that if he was going to hide his identity, he might as well play a character. Jason got something to drink and stood with his back against the wall, holding his cup away from him and watching the other kids dance with his nose in the air. Jason committed to playing his own opposite for the night. He walked around the ballroom with his nose in the air. It wasn't until a boy much taller than him brushed his hand and he froze. Jason grabbed his hand, and they both stood there frozen in a crowd of people. The taller boy leaned down to whisper in Jason's ear. "May I have this dance?" he asked. Jason nodded.

"Perhaps," Jason replied as the boy led Jason in one slow dance before disappearing into the crowd. It wasn't until Jason snapped out of the shock of what just happened that he realized who he'd danced with. Jason didn't chase him. Instead, he walked out to the balcony and started pacing back and forth in a panic. A teacher dressed as a plague doctor came out and nudged him back inside, but Jason didn't recognize the voice. He obeyed despite his instincts to ask who the man was. He went back inside and decided to search for his friend.

Not too long after, he heard a loud pop and a hissing noise, and the last thing he remembered was the burning sensation in his eyes. He woke up in the emergency room feeling sick to his stomach. His hands shook violently as the lights burned his eyes. He couldn't see clearly. His throat was sore from whatever chemical he must've inhaled, barely managing to mutter a hoarse warning that he was going to be sick. He vomited into a sick bag and lay back. A hand touched his forehead and made sure the oxygen tubes were in his nose. "I've got you, son," Jim whispered, "Do you remember anything?"

Jason shook his head. His vision was still blurred from the chemicals, and he couldn't see who else was in the room with him. "Jason, literally anything. Try to think," Jim urged him.

"Plague doctor took me back inside," Jason mumbled. His head ached, and he felt pins and needles all over his body as if he couldn't come down from panic. He reached to touch his eyes, and Jim grabbed them. "I wanna go home."

"Jason, we don't know what you were hit with. Every emergency room in Gotham is packed with kids from your school, and it sounds like you're all going to be held overnight for observation," Barbara explained.

Jason closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Jim sighed. "We're not leaving your side, I promise," Jim reassured. Jason took a shaky breath. Barbara reached over and squeezed his hand. "We're thinking it's some sort of fear toxin, but it's not like anything we've ever seen..."

"Who called 9-1-1?" Jason asked.

"You called me," Jim whispered, "You don't remember calling me at all?" Jason shook his head and opened his eyes once more. The room was a little clearer to him, and he could see their faces.

Barbara tried to mask her anger, but Jason could see it written all over her face. She was furious. He couldn't tell if she was mad at him or at the situation, but he felt like he'd failed her. Jim seemed more concerned than anything. "I don't remember anything... I'm sorry," Jason whispered. Barbara stormed out of the room without so much as a word. Jason looked over at Jim.

"She's not mad at you. She just wants to know how this happened," Jim comforted Jason. Jim sat down by Jason's bedside. "It'll probably be out of your system by morning. I know you're probably still feeling a little anxious." Jason nodded and took another deep breath. "You didn't say much on the phone. You just told me there was gas at the school and that everyone was trapped."

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 2

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, might not)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, he is a bit of a dick though, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~1800 (literally double last chapter, lol)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on the first chapter! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please don't hesitate to ask!

And thanks so much to @theradioactivespidergwen for the adorable divider!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705

You checked your smartwatch for the time as you rushed down the sidewalk towards Daredevil. Your GPS had told you that it'd be faster to walk there from the Bulletin than take a cab given the time of day, but you were starting to wonder if maybe you should've taken your chances.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted the restaurant up ahead then slowed a bit so you could catch your breath before reaching the entrance. Okay. It's fine, I'm on time, I got this.

You looked up at the restaurant. Daredevil was displayed in dark red lettering above the entranceway, with different patterns of dots underneath each letter. Huh. Interesting choice.

You reached for the door handle and pulled, only to find it locked. Shit.

You looked at the sign next to the door. 

Hours of Operation:

Sunday: 11 AM - 2 PM

Monday: Closed

Tuesday - Thursday 5 PM - 10 PM

Friday - Saturday: 5 PM - 12 AM

You reached into your purse to call the restaurant… only to realize that you had left your cell phone sitting on your dresser at home.

You sighed. Great.  

"Can I help you?"

You turned as a pretty blonde-haired woman walked up and unlocked the door. "Oh, um, yeah, I hope so."

You dug a business card out of your wallet and handed it to her. "I'm with the New York Bulletin . I'm supposed to be interviewing Chef Murdock in a minute, but I left my phone at home so I'm unable to let him know I'm here."

The woman's eyebrows raised as she looked at your business card. "You're interviewing Matt?"

"Um, yes?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. "Just a second, I'll be right back."

You waited as the woman went inside and locked the door behind her.

A few minutes later she returned and unlocked the door, this time with a friendly smile on her face.

She held the door open for you. "Come on in."

"Thanks." You stepped inside.

"I'm Karen," the woman said. "I run front-of-house."

"Nice to meet you," you replied.

Karen led you to a table near the right corner of the front entrance. "Matt'll be right out. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

You shook your head. "Oh, no thank you, I'm fine."

"Okay, if you change your mind, let me know."

"I will, thank you."

You took your notepad and pen out of your purse, silently cursing yourself again for leaving your phone -- which was your only audio recording device -- on your dresser.

Since you couldn't even continue your brief research on Chef Murdock while you waited, you looked around instead.

The walls were all painted a soft white with the exception of the back wall, which was exposed brick with a built-in fireplace running along the middle of it. Side tables holding bottles of wine were the only choice of decor, giving the space a simplistic look.

You kind of liked it.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty… then thirty. What is the holdup, you thought to yourself. Surely he can't be that busy since they're not open for service yet .

You were just about to get up to go ask Karen if Chef Murdock had forgotten you were there when the kitchen door opened and Chef Murdock himself came strolling out.

His photo really hadn't done him justice -- his biceps strained against the sleeves of his chef's jacket and his jawline looked like it could cut glass.

Your eyes trailed up to his, which were hidden by the same red-tinted sunglasses he had been wearing in his photo. 

You swallowed and stood as he approached, sticking your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself. "Mr. Murdock, thank you for meeting with me. I was told that you don't do interviews."

He ignored your hand and sat. "I don't usually, but it seems like this one was… unavoidable. And it's Chef Murdock. I didn't spend three and a half years in culinary school to be called Mr. "

You hesitated before sitting and looking down at your sparse notes. "Okay, well then. Um, Chef Murdock, I'd like to start with a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Mmm."

You took a deep breath. "Okay, so you're a Michelin star chef, correct?"

"Three." 

You looked up at him again. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a three Michelin star chef."

"Oh. Um, excuse me." Asshole . "As a three Michelin star chef, what made you want to open a restaurant here in Hell's Kitchen? Why not somewhere like Manhattan?"

"I was born and raised here in the Kitchen."

You smiled up at him. "Oh, so do your parents still live here? They must be very proud."

Chef Murdock raised an eyebrow. "Well they probably would be, except my mother abandoned me as an infant and my father was murdered shortly after the accident that blinded me as a child, which you would know if you had bothered to do a modicum of research."

Your eyes widened, your smile quickly falling from your face. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." That at least explained the glasses and the dots on the signage out front. It's Braille. "I had no idea, I --"

"-- didn't bother to come prepared, yes, that much is clear." Chef Murdock crossed his arms. "If this is the sort of unprofessionalism that everyone who works at the Bulletin shows, then I'm not sure I should be sitting down with one of their reporters. We're done here."

You opened your mouth to protest as Chef Murdock stood and stalked off, shocked that he had suddenly stopped the interview before it even had really started. 

You stood and put your notepad and pen in your purse, fighting back tears. What the hell just happened?

This was the first time you had ever failed at an interview -- you were known for both your professionalism and your ability to get to know your subjects on a deeper, more personal level in order to get them to open up to you.

You headed back to the lobby of the restaurant, willing yourself to not cry while you were still in the building.

Karen smiled over at you. "All done?"

"Um, yeah," you mumbled. "Could you let me out, please?"

"Sure thing." Karen unlocked the door for you, looking at you curiously. "Hey, are you okay?"

You shook your head. "Fine, fine, just gotta go."

You pushed past her and exited the restaurant, waiting until you had made it into the alley next to it before you burst into tears.

Matt sighed as he took his glasses off and tossed them onto his desk. At least that's over . He hadn't gotten to where he was by half-assing anything and he certainly wasn't going to let anyone ruin what he had worked so hard to rebuild, especially some so-called 'journalist' who couldn't even bother to do some simple research before sitting down for an interview.

"What the hell did you do, Matt? Karen just told me that that journalist from the Bulletin just ran out of here practically in tears."

Matt looked up and crossed his arms in front of his chest as Foggy's familiar footsteps stopped in front of his office. "She came completely unprepared, Foggy. I wasn't going to waste my time sitting down with someone who couldn't even bother doing any sort of research before coming."

"That's because she hadn't had time to do any! The interview needed to happen right away because of deadlines and stuff for the paper so it got sprung on her at the last minute, just like I sprang it on you at the last minute."

He paused as Karen's footsteps approached. "Kare, do you still have Ms. Taylor's business card? Maybe we can try to salvage this."

Taylor? "Wait a minute, who?" Matt replied confusedly. 

"Kelsie Taylor? The food writer from the Bulletin ?" Foggy sighed exasperatedly. Jesus, Matt, did you even try to remember her name?"

Matt shook his head, beginning to feel bad for being so harsh towards you. "That's not who she said she was."

"Matt's right, it definitely wasn't her," Karen added. "At least, that wasn't the name on the card she gave me."

"Who was she then?"

Matt said your name. "She did say she was with the Bulletin though."

"Her card's on the front podium," Karen said. "I'll go get it."

Foggy turned back to Matt as Karen left. "You never were going to do the interview, were you?"

Matt winced. The last time he had agreed to any kind of journalistic endeavor had ended in disaster and almost complete ruination of his culinary reputation, and quite honestly he was terrified of it happening again. "I was , but --"

Foggy groaned. "Don't even give me that bullshit, Matt. Do you know how hard I had to work to even get you that interview? They were going to give the front page to Fisk , of all people!"

Wilson Fisk, who owned Kingpin's, had been suspected of being behind several popular restaurants' sudden closures (more than one being due to 'mysterious' kitchen fires), as well as having bought most, if not all, of the positive hype and accolades he and his restaurant had received. 

Matt scowled. He would be damned if he was going to let that bastard steal the spotlight out from underneath him. "Fisk? Really? He's not even a real chef! His sous comes up with most of his recipes, he just modifies it a bit and slaps his name on it."

"All the more reason for you to get that front page interview."

Matt heard Karen's footsteps approach again. "Got her card?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Karen replied.

Matt could smell the subtle scent of your perfume as Karen passed Foggy your business card -- something lightly floral with a hint of vanilla.

Foggy read your name off of your business card. "This says she's the Features writer."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Features? You said the food writer was doing the interview."

"I assumed she was but I guess since it was a front-page article they wanted someone else to do it." Foggy pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped at his screen. "Hang on, I'm gonna pull up the Bulletin staff."

Matt waited as Foggy pulled up the list of staff then tapped on your name. "Is this her?" he asked Karen, presumably showing her your picture.

"Yeah, that's who it was," Karen replied.

Matt nodded as his watch beeped with the time. "We have to get ready to open, but I'm going to go over to the Bulletin 's office in the morning to see if I can talk to her and straighten everything out."

He just hoped you accepted his apology.

[luveline]

hi jade i hope life is treating you well <33 would you please write something for the asf universe maybe where fred invites ghost to come with him to something that he has to go to, and ghost doesn’t know how to say no so she tries to drag herself there despite how exhausted and sad she is, thank you for everything, take care of yourself <33

thank you for your request lovely! fem!reader, 2k

cw for mental health issues

Eyes dry as sand, you lean down in the hallway of Lee's flat to retie your shoelace. You'd done them haphazard, late to get ready. Fred doesn't notice you've stopped, swinging around the corner, each part of him beside his fingers on the doorway disappearing from view. 

"Hey, guys. Alicia, what have you done to your hair?"

"I've dyed it."

"I can see that. Feeling morose, were you?" He pauses. You look up in anticipation of his confused gaze. "Love?" he asks. 

You spring up with your shoelace half tied again to meet him in the doorway. Easy, Fred wraps his arm around your shoulders. He is, unquestionably, showing you off to his friends. "Hi guys," you say. 

You don't mind talking to them —they're not the problem, his merry band of twenty-somethings, reminiscent of their school selves but with enough piercings, tattoos, and bold haircuts to tell the difference. You're different enough that half of them didn't recognise you the first time they saw you again after leaving school, Lee Jordan's ill-fated birthday party, Freddie and a handful of bruised knuckles. You're the girl Fred defended unshakingly. It bought you a lot of street cred. 

What's so special about her that Fred would bother making such a mess? they must think. You honestly don't have a clue. It has more to do with Fred's big heart than your deserving, probably. 

"Hey," Angelina says, knees up at the table, a coke sweating down her arm. "Thank god you're here, George hasn't shut about you both since you cancelled on him." 

"I had salmonella," Fred says, arm steadfast behind you as he guides you into the kitchen. He encourages you into an empty chair by Angelina, likely George's considering the familiar worn wallet laid out by an empty coke. "Couldn't really de-salmonella myself." 

"Freddie!" Lee says, bottles clinking together in his hand. 

"Alright?" Fred asks. 

"Man, I'm glad you got here early. I wanted to talk to you about Melena before her lot come over at seven. Her gran just died so now she has a lot of money and nothing to do with it." 

"I don't like being responsible for other people's money," Fred says, his hand toying with the back of your shirt as he talks. Totally distracted, doting on you anyhow. 

"I thought you'd say that." 

You pick George's wallet up, unthinking. Neither of the twins has ever felt much possession of their possessions, nor have they ever withheld anything from you, and so you've a lack of manners all their blame. You run your thumb over the plastic window where a photo of Molly holding a smaller, younger Ginny on her knee takes centre stage. 

"Hello," George says, his reappearance surprising you enough to lose your grip on the wallet. His arms cleave you from Fred's grasp, all guy smells and squeezes as he hugs you roughly. "Things aren't so dire as to pickpocket me, surely." 

Fred is your very best friend on the whole planet. George is an extremely close second. You smile at the fierce pressure of his arms and pat him on the wrist. 

"Sorry, I was being nosey." 

"Wait, I've forgotten I was mad at you." 

"For what?" you ask, though you know.

"You didn't come to game night! What the fuck, ghost? Fred had salmonella, whatever, but you weren't sick. I missed you." 

I didn't feel well enough to come without Fred, you almost say, but it's still not fair. George really is a best friend. "I should've come. I'm sorry," you say. 

"That's okay. Come to the next one, yeah?" He stands up, giving your back a whack and a half. "You okay?" 

Honestly? No. You're tired. You don't feel like a very good person, and being with your friends makes it worse. You would've said no to coming tonight, but it's not as easy as it is with George to say no to Fred. Fred asks you for things, hand on your hand or your elbow or your knee, and you can't entertain letting him down.

"We've been invited to Lee Jordan's for drinks next Friday," he'd said. At that moment your shins were over his lap, his new phone precariously held in his long fingers, "you'll come, won't you? It was rubbish without you last time." 

"Yeah," you'd said immediately. "Course." 

Why? you think now, a sharp knife of dread sliding beneath your ribs. What a stupid idea. Your hands are clammy where you wipe them in the knees of your jeans, your mouth uncooperative as you answer George's inquiry. "I'm okay. How are you? Did you get your new sofa yet?" 

The night pulls on in dribs and drabs. You're better at hiding how you feel now you've reason to hide it, someone who loves you enough to pay attention, but it always shines through. Like grease on silk held up to the light, the pervasive oiliness of how you feel seeping, seeping. You jump from room to room, bump shoulders with people you know and strangers alike, swap a coke for a vodka and, at Fred's proud production, an ice cold mimosa with a fresh orange slice hooked on the rim. 

"A mimosa? At 9PM?" you ask, taking it anyway. 

"Vitamin D, doll. It's good for you." Kiss to the top of your head. Fred is stolen away again by an old friend. You sit in the pit of a deep chair, the comfiest, softest seat in the house, a fresh drink in hand, music you like playing to the left and a shouted promise of pizza and potato wedges called from the kitchen. 

Everybody cheers. You take a sip of your drink and decide to go home. You can sidle up to George and tell him you're not feeling well, he can tell Fred when your boyfriend notices you're gone. No one will panic, and there will be no need for him to go home. 

But Fred doesn't work that way. Doesn't trust you to tell the truth about how you're feeling; you're a liar, and he knows you'll undersell the weight of whatever it is that's wrong. 

When George pops by to steal your drink, you don't spin a lie about headaches or cramps. 

You're loved into telling the truth. 

Fred wanders back your way eventually. He sees it on your face (he must), the disconnect between your eyes and your surroundings. It isn't everything about you —you see him approaching and you smile, opening an eager hand to his arm— but he's well read in your feelings. He hips you along the big chair and sits back, pulling you with him, his arm again protectively held over your shoulders as he tucks you into his neck.

"You look tired, lovely girl," he says, his voice weak in the quiet.

"I'm trying not to be." 

"I don't think it's something you can try your way out of." Stronger, fonder, he's reassured by your smile, but he knows you better than anyone. "You've drunk your mimosa!" 

"George," you correct.

"Ah. Did you like it at all?" he asks. 

Things don't always taste right to you. "The fizzing was making my nose hurt." 

Fred turns your face to his. "Not your gorgeous nose," he laments, lips barely parted. He strokes you cheek with the soft pad of his thumb like he's trying to smooth away a line, eyes pinching into a squint. Handsome squint on a handsome boy. 

"I'm okay." You answer before he can ask.

"I know. Wish you'd said something earlier, is all." 

"I can't… ruin your fun. Every night." 

"Every night," he repeats. He tips your chin up to kiss you. "That's ridiculous," he says when he leans back. "You don't ruin any fun, ghost. You make it fun." 

"Make what fun?" you ask, sounding more and more tired with each word. You mumble into his shirt. "This should be fun… don't know what's wrong with me."

Fred goes soft like butter in the sun, though what's warming about your limp disposition is anyone's guess. "You're sick of hearing me say this," he begins, words slow, "but you have no reason to… feel so disgusted with yourself. I can hear it, sometimes… in your voice. You don't have to know what's wrong with you, you don't have to force yourself to have fun, you don't have to be so angry. Not with my girl, she doesn't deserve it." He kisses your cheek, a sudden cheerful punctuation to his serious moments. "You feel rubbish, you don't know why. It doesn't matter, so long as you can feel better in the end." 

"I'm just tired," you say, as you've said a hundred times before. 

"You're always tired." 

It makes your throat ache, that simple acknowledgement. 

"You can kip on me if you want to," he says. 

"Here?" you ask. 

He shrugs, jostling your shoulder. "Don't see why not. Unless you want to go home. We can go home, sweetheart."

It's unsaid. Staying here, even when you don't feel good, will mitigate the guilt you'd feel if you dragged him home. He doesn't care, he'd never hold it against you, but you're paranoid anyways, and self-hating to a fault. There's no need to add fuel to that fire, so you can stay. But if you really can't manage it, Fred will take you home. 

"Maybe I'll just lean on you, for a bit." You meet his eyes fully, brown and big and looking down at you with a shiny kind of love. "If that's okay." 

Fred drops his arm to the small of your back and wraps it around, his thumb searching for your Jean pocket. He hooks it there, his chin rubbing a short line into your temple. "Oh no, my beautiful girlfriend wants to snuggle. Whatever will I do." 

"You don't have to, Freddie. You can enjoy your party. I could just go home." 

"I don't want you to go home," he whispers, a secret. "I want to be where you are. I like parties, but I like you more." 

"Are you sure?" you ask. 

Fred lays back with the affect of a gluttonous Prince, as though he has everything he wants right there at his disposal. You can't imagine being the pretty girl under his arm, and yet you are. No matter how awful your head hurts, he makes you feel like you've nothing to be ashamed of. It's the kindest thing he can do. 

"Take a breather," he says. "Let's have fifteen minutes. If you feel worse, we'll go home. 'Kay?" 

You look at his lap, curling your fingers into the hem of his pressed button down. "Okay. Thanks, baby." 

He sounds pleased at the pet name. "Melena's coming over here. Quick, pretend to be sleeping. I'll stroke the back of your neck if you promise not to laugh."