#i do want to be able to continue writing in some fashion

[the-everqueen]

so tempted to just quit doing applications for postdocs and higher ed jobs and instead find some kind of quiet desk or office work i could do near the gf. i can be so productive about audits and data sheets. please just let me have dental.

[cheriewony]

boo, you whore — huh yunjin

genre; smut, smut with plot

pairing; mean girl!yunjin x fem!reader

warnings; mean yunjin, degredation, size kink, strapon use, cunnilingus, face sitting, voyeurism, mentions of filming

note; this is a repost from my old blog (cheriejen) i honestly loved writing this request, want jen to call me a whore and rail me senseless ♡ - would you guys like a pt 2? i was thinking of doing a foursome with the plastics-

minors ++ men, dni

huh yunjin seemed to have spawned her wretched way into this world with a silver spoon in her mouth, wearing perilously tall jimmy choos and a matching pink birkin. this hadn't changed much in university. you had thought that after the horrid interactions the two of you had had back in high school, university was going to be a fresh start.

you couldn't have been more wrong.

whilst yunjin's friends-since-birth miyawaki sakura and kim chaewon were studying elsewhere, she had been able to make a new trio of plastics quickly enough. yu jimin had been connected to yunjin's hip since she had stepped onto campus. she was the life of the party- organising mixers, socials and parties like this very halloween one. jang wonyoung, a fashion major and the titled prettiest girl on campus, had been an obvious choice as the final piece in the highly-respected trio.

just like she had cornered you in the cafeteria in her short little tennis skirts in high school, here she was, in a short pink slip dress that was hardly covering her hot pink lingerie, her glittery lip gloss smudged from an intense makeout session she'd just had with the captain of the university football team. oh, and the bunny ears that had been propped onto her college-blonde hair, almost like an afterthought.

you had learnt that college halloween parties were an excuse to dress slutty the hard way- after showing up, fake blood, teeth and warts as frankenstein's wife to your first halloween party in your freshman year. today, you were wearing the same veil you had to your first party, instead paired with a white front-tie corset, the shortest skirt in your closet and a wash of dewy tint on your lips.

yunjin's lip curled into that smirk she always had in front of you. despite years of witnessing her lip curl in that manner, you still couldn't really understand what it meant. disgust? irritation? amusement?

"who would've thought a little suck up like you would be at one of my parties?"

you hesitated to correct her. this technically wasn't her party- after all, it had been karina who had thrown the party. your lips remained shut; any party huh yunjin actually showed up too soon became her party.

your hesitation was interrupted by yunjin's perfectly manicured hand fastening around your wrist. she ends up tugging you along with one hand, the other hand sneaking another small tray of filled red solo cups on it, continuing to weave neatly through the throngs of drunken young adults before pushing you into the bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door behind you two.

she can only smile over at your flushed face, how your lips had pursed into pants after clumsily rushing into the bathroom behind her. yunjin props herself onto the bathroom counter top, draining one of the solo cups in one, squealing aloud once she finished.

"actually grew yourself some tits, huh?" she questions, that cheshire-cat grin still tugging at her lips. she steps forward to tug the bow holding the from of your top together loose.

part of you instinctively shielded your now bare skin, cheeks stained red as yunjin chuckled over at you.

"no bra? what a slut."

your cheeks could only get warmer at her words as she pushed you to settle onto the bathroom counter, moving to stand between your legs, lifting your skirt up to get a view of the lacy pink panties you were wearing. she smirked at the sticky patch that was beginning to form between your legs.

"what a fucking whore."

the next view was something you never expected; huh yunjin, propped on her knees as she pushed your panties aside and began to lap at your dripping cunt, playboy bunny ears askew on her halo of blonde hair.

your were obsessed with her. anyone would be with how her tongue teased your clit, drawing long licks against your sweet pussy. all you could do was moan, tugging at wads of blonde hair to force you closer, only causing her to bite at your inner thighs.

"do you know how much that stylist cost me? don't you fucking dare."

so you don't, your hands fiddling with your tits instead, rubbing the nub of your nipple to make your eyes roll, tongue propped out of your mouth as yunjin continued to lap at your pretty pussy. as soon as your legs begin to roll alongside her licks, she pulls away, lips shining with your wetness.

"it's that easy to get you to cum? fucking slut, bet you've thought about this for so long? what a creep-"

she moves to the side, removing her own clothes, only revealing more perfect curves. she was venus and you were under her spell as she moved out of view to put something on. by the time she arrived back in front of you, you were salivating. the strap on was huge. and glittery pink. obvi.

you immediately drop to your knees, eager to lap and suck at the tip of the dildo but yunjin only scoffs in disgust.

"i don't want your foul mouth anywhere near this. lie down."

and you did. she forces you to lay down as she aligns the pink dildo with your entrance, lubing it down with your own wetness. she slowly pushes in, the two of your moans sync. her hands find purchase on your hips before moving faster, ignoring any of your whines or demands.

"listen here bitch. i make the rules here. all i want to hear from you are those dirty little moans-"

your eyes become glassy, almost doll-like as she does as she pleases, grunting almost animalistically as her thrusts get more incoherent and shaky, your gummy walls tightening around her.

"f-fuck- keep taking me, don't make me stop-"

your whines are pornographic at this point, making your own hips move alongside her thrusts, your thumb teasing your clit as you reach your high. as if a puppeteer had dropped your strings, you collapse onto yunjin, hands gripping past her tits to rest on her shoulders.

yunjin groans in disgust, pushing your weak frame flat onto the counter before taking out her phone, beginning to film your twitching self, your pussy still quivering around her pink cock. you try to cover your face, which clearly doesn't please yunjin one bit. she pulls out in frustration, and grabs her stuff before glaring at you.

"boo, you whore."

@ cheriewony © 2024 | do not copy, repost or translate without the permission of the author

[colourstreakgryffin]

hi! Please ignore this request if you don't want to do it/your request are closed.

Do you think you could do a part 2 to hells angel? Or at least like more bonding moments between the two Im in love with father alastor sm 😭🙏

It’s not closed! It’s open, wide open and yes, I’ll happily write more for Papa Alastor! I’ll happily continue the little saga of Papa Alastor and his little fawn! Kinda short but I hope that’s okay!

Alastor- Shopping Trip

“Is this one something you’d like, Princess?” Alastor asks gently, his voice both menacing because of the radio effect and soothing because of the genuine love pouring out uncontrollably, as he draws down an adorable puffy old-fashioned but colourful little dress, long sharp fingers snapped on the small silky shoulder straps slightly. A outfit just the right size for a young girl

Specifically, his little girl. Leitora, a unique deer-featured soul born from pure powerful demonic magic. The one now forming his own soul and heart, he is so glad birthing the little devil darling was successful

His precious baby daughter, a seven year old with matching little deer ears and crimson red gradient in her pretty long hair. She has been waiting a long time to be able to spend time with her father and now, Alastor has taken the whole day off from duties at the Hazbin Hotel, to spend it exploring a wild wondering sinner-filled shopping institution with his babygirl

“Yes, Père! I love it!” You immediately pipe out soft yet eccentric back, excited and hopping right in front of the Radio Demon as he quickly hooks this little clothing present onto the size-appropriate hanger it was originally left on and hands it to you without another word. He currently has a few more shopping bags over his left forearm and an another much bigger shopping bag over his right shoulder as well as your needed travel supplies in a cute old fashioned pastel schoolbag over both of his shoulders

Your father doesn’t mind carrying everything nor does he mind overspending. After all

This is a father-daughter all-day shopping trip

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. A pretty clothing store, full of women’s to men’s to children’s fashion. The fifth store you’ve gone in with Alastor since the pair of you woke up early in the morning and headed over to the biggest mall in the Pride Ring, the mall both of you stand in at this very moment. He has been needing to get you some new clothing for a while now so being able to get your opinion on the cute dresses, tights, accessorises, pyjamas and much more he picks out for you is simply perfect

Alastor has truly missed being able to spend time with you, even if it includes milking his credit card. You’re worth far more than all the wealth he’s stolen and gathered

Taking your hand with a lean down, Alastor waits patiently for you to take his offer as you quickly readjust the clothing store hanger holding up your cute little present. Moving that hanger from both hands to your wrist, you reach up and immediately grab his much bigger hand. Two to three fingers are enough to hold your whole hand, the size difference is simply precious

“Père! Père! Look! Look!” Speaking with a adorable little French accent upon pointing out and chiming excitedly in fluent French, Alastor’s crimson red eyes sharply fling away from the cute rows of female children’s clothing to the single rack of children’s hair accessorises to jewellery. The reason you pointed it out, only seconds after taking your beloved father’s hand was because you noticed something really pretty you wanted your father to see

“What is it, Princess?” Alastor lets you drag him over to the colourful rack, his own eyes wondering around with tall fluffy deer-like ears flicking a bit as if an instinctive twitch. You still have the dress your father handed to you and you reach up as a sign for Alastor to help you. Following your little cute pale fingers, the Overlord picks out a set retro pearl tassel hairpins. Something he never thought you’d like but it may fit with your red hair

He isn’t sure if he wants the metal touching your skull however, so he holds the white cardboard support holding the hairpins still, just scanning over them a bit firmly and if not protective over you

Until your voice breaks him out of his intense thought. His ears shooting up in shock as your own ears draw back slightly, not necessarily concerned but wondering why just a pair of cute accessorises would possibly make him fall so deep into a thinking trance

“Père… What’s wrong?” You’re now the one asking your father to speak to you with big sparkly eyes looking up at him, he takes a few seconds of his head shaking in slight disorientation before he finally gets back to his senses and speaks out his opinion, uncertain but yet uncertain if he wants to reject you

Alastor is not good at saying no to you, he’s good at giving out needed discipline and can be rather strict about specific things but when it comes to mundane things like a pair of mere hairpins, he doesn’t like to say no

What can be said? Alastor is the type of father to spoil his daughter absolutely rotten

“Princess… are you sure you want this one specifically?”

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (5)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 5.4k

— 🍄 summary: what’s better than two nerds? three nerds, obviously.

— ☕ content warnings: jimin is a shameless flirt, mentions of death/decomposition/suicide, more scientific inaccuracies, jimin joins the league of nerds, namjoon is a sweetheart

— 🕸️ a/n: thank you so much to everyone who continues to read and comment!! your kind words keep me writing :)

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 5: triple threat

october 14, 2004

"How is it? Do I look human enough?" Jimin asks on their way out.

Yoongi pauses by the front door to assess him, raising a brow when he's able to take a look at Jimin's ensemble.

"Your glamour's solid," Yoongi replies, scanning him up and down. "Dressed up, huh?" He says it with a slight teasing lilt.

Jimin is decked out in fitted pants, a green turtleneck sweater under a black coat, his signature heeled boots, and one of his more expensive leather bags draped over his shoulder.

Jimin feigns ignorance as he looks down at himself.

"Oh, am I?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes and side steps him to slip out the front door, which opens and closes without any effort from either of them.

You don't want to talk about the dreams. They're nothing to worry about, really. Just a multitude of images and sounds and sensations. Some of them worse than others.

But even still, you don't want to talk about them.

Today, you're setting out for some more fieldwork, this time with Jimin the chemist adding to your bank of knowledge.

You pick up their coffee orders as well as some pastries from the cafe and head to the meeting site.

They're three minutes late, which you wouldn't have expected from Yoongi. Not to mention that they arrive together, cresting the hill and walking down the path like they came from the same place.

"Good morning," you greet them.

"It definitely is now," Jimin casually mumbles under his breath, but you still catch it. Yoongi does too, judging from the way his eyes widen ever so slightly ad his cheeks immediately flush.

You hand them their coffees, allowing yourself one (1) indulgent look at them before you focus your mind on work and not a pair of pretty faces.

Not that you've seen Jimin's full face. Again, he's wearing a black mask and tinted glasses, so really all you can see is his (absolutely cut) jawline, the curves and contours of his neck, and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. But this time he's wearing a black pageboy hat that hides most of his silver hair, probably on account of the cold.

The fact that he looks like a goddamn model leaving his chic apartment in the middle of Paris fashion week doesn't help your one look rule.

So you look at Yoongi, and shit it does not help.

He's wearing black skinny jeans, an oversized black button up, and a pair of battered sneakers. This time, his elegant hands are adorned with a multitude of silver rings, bracelets glint around his wrists, and several sets of dangling earrings frame his face.

His hair is fluffy with a slight curl to it. Did...did he style it?

He must catch you staring at him, because then his hands are fidgeting and he's looking down at the ground.

Clearing your throat, you grab your notebook to look over your bullet points.

"Alright, to the lake," you break the silence, leading the way while chugging your coffee.

Now that you have a little more information on Sharon Mason's death, you can analyze the site with a fresh perspective. It is indeed cold, and the water is no doubt even colder.

You did a bit of research, and apparently some of the first signs of hypothermia are the "-umbles," i.e. stumbles, mumbles, and fumbles. Then, involuntary shivering, loss of motor functions, and—

"Do you think she was dead before she entered the water?" Yoongi asks suddenly.

You're doing it again, damnit. Working alone for so long has given you a habit of talking to yourself, and sometimes it's hard to know if you're doing it (very much out loud) without realizing, since no one is usually there to comment on it.

It doesn't help that the two men have already proven to be distracting enough.

"In my opinion, no," you answer. The autopsy report, as well as all of your research, flashes through your memory like so many sleepless nights.

"It's much more likely that the temperature of the water lead to her demise," you say, half to yourself. Because of the high thermal conductivity, hypothermia can occur twenty-four times faster in water than in the air. Even in non-freezing temperatures, hypothermia can cause death in as little as forty-five minutes.

"And in the moderate stage of hypothermia, one of the symptoms is irrational behavior. Like removing their clothes even though they're freezing," you rattle on, eyes on the dark undulating water of Lurking Lake.

Honestly, that's one of the only reasons you can think of as to why Mason entered the water of her own volition. Even if you were to entertain the notion of suicide, hypothermia is often a slow and painful process, and survival instincts are likely to kick in involuntarily.

But the toxicology report stated she wasn't under the influence of any alcohol or drugs that could've explained the odd behavior. It just doesn't make any damn sense.

"So," Jimin says softly, as if sensing your frustration. "What did you want me to look for?"

You shake your head to clear the cobwebs, taking a few more sips of coffee.

"Anything unusual when it comes to the lake environment," you answer. The lake happens to be the area you have the least expertise in, so you're hoping Jimin will be able to make up for it.

"Tell me about it," you invite, stepping forward to examine the waterline.

Looking at it again, you notice several things you hadn't before. There's the same curtain of fog, the same cattails and lily-pad-like plants poking to the surface, but there's also a little wooden dock a small distance away.

Almost unconsciously, you start to move towards it while Jimin and Yoongi follow dutifully.

"Well, you've probably heard that it's polluted," Jimin answers.

"So I've heard. Polluted how, exactly?" you press.

You're closer now, seeing that the little dock is half underwater, old and rotted.

"The real question is what isn't it polluted by, really," Jimin continues. "There's the lead poisoning, the PFASs, the—"

"The what?" you interrupt, rummaging around in your bag for something to write with.

A little glint sparks in Jimin's eyes, the rest of him visibly perking up.

"PFASs, or perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, they're a subset of fluorinated chemicals, so they possess strong carbon-fluorine bonds—"

"Jimin, you don't need to go into detail..." Yoongi cuts in, but not in an annoyed way, more like he's anxious that you'll get annoyed.

"No, no, please go ahead," you encourage him, pen now poised over your notepad.

You can't see it, but Jimin smiles and blushes a bit under the mask.

"So, these are sometimes called "forever chemicals," because of their strong molecular bonds that can take hundreds of years to break down," he continues, with you one step behind him jotting everything down.

"Hmm, and I'm guessing you can find many of these "forever chemicals" in pesticides," you remark.

Another smile, this time from admiration, crosses Jimin's face.

"Correct."

While you were roaming around town to interview Laplan's wife and Sharon Mason's family, you found out that many of the townsfolk use a heavy amount of pesticides and herbicides on their land. You're guessing because of the strange fungus and tree rot that's been rapidly spreading.

As the three of you roam the perimeter of the water, you listen to Jimin's explanation of the other types of pollution in the lake, from nutrient pollution (or an excessive amount of nitrogen and phosphorous that cause algal growth) and the increase of TDSs (or total dissolved solids, usually due to an increase in the saltiness of the water).

You ask Jimin to collect some samples so he can test the salinity and get a more accurate sense of what specific chemicals you're dealing with.

"What about the wildlife?" you ask, watching a few tiny fish squirm between the rocks.

There's that same twinkle in his eye as he gets into it.

"Well, there's actually a pretty invasive species of leech in this lake," he says, sounding like a kid in a candy store.

He explains that these leeches can grow up to twelve inches long (jesus christ), and while different species of leeches can feed on organic material or prey on other animals, this specific species is purely parasitic.

Yoongi wanders off to examine some of the outlying plants while Jimin excitedly rambles on, with you listening intently to every word.

He has a strangely melodic voice, sweet and smooth. It's a voice you feel like you could listen to for hours.

Apparently, leeches have a numbing agent in their saliva, so the host can't even tell when it's been bitten. They also release an anticoagulant, making the host's blood flow faster, so there's even a danger of excessive bleeding after the leech has detached.

"You're quite knowledgeable on the subject," you say, allowing your interest and admiration to shine through your voice.

Jimin shrugs it off modestly, turning to continue along the path.

"I have specific interests, I guess," he replies. "I wanted to head a research project on this location, but there wasn't enough funding."

"Ah, that's a shame," you say sincerely.

"Yoongi wanted to look deeper into the local plant life mutations, but again, lack of funding," Jimin adds.

"Really?" you respond, and something in your voice must betray the way your interest snags, because Jimin looks up at you like he let something slip.

Maybe that's why the mayor recommended him to you, maybe he contributed to the push for answers.

Jimin wanders off a bit, and yeah anybody who wants to judge you for staring at him can press charges.

It's just so easy to watch him when he's focused, Yoongi too for that matter. They always put their hands in their pockets and lean forward, head tilting to the side and eyes narrowing as they hone in on whatever they're examining.

Yoongi is collecting some more plant samples, his eyes narrowed in what looks like confusion.

Jimin is staring at a specific spot in the lake, towards the center but still visible from your position.

"See something?" you ask as you walk up to where he's standing, following his line of sight.

He points to the spot he's been staring at, and you have to lean forward and squint your eyes.

For a moment, you don't see anything, just dark water and fog. Jimin seems to notice, being as perceptive as he is.

"Unfocus your eyes a little, be openminded," Jimin whispers in your ear like it's a secret.

You do as he says. It takes you a few seconds, but then you see it. The top of a wooden post sticking up from the gentle waves. And when you look closer, you can see the top of a sign. Through the water, you can make out the words DEEP WATER.

"Huh," you let out. "So the water level is rising."

"It would appear so," Jimin replies, and something in his voice suggests that he's thinking hard.

He pulls a tupperware container from some secret pocket in his coat, snapping it open.

Your attention shifts between the algae covered rocks and the tadpoles just under the surface. Then you smell something sweet.

Another look at Jimin answers why. He's pulled his mask down and is nibbling at a cupcake with swirling frosting, flecks of pure vanilla visible even from where you're standing.

It tickles something in the back of your brain.

"I should get going," Yoongi says, checking his watch. It reminds Jimin to do the same thing.

"Yeah, me too," he adds, readjusting the mask back over his face.

You check the time. It's only two p.m. Though it is Wednesday, and you remember Yoongi having to head home at a certain time during your last outing.

"Okay," you reply, expertly hiding your slight disappointment at having your time with them cut short. Just because you're eager to work through this case. No other reason.

"Let me give you a ride," you offer while you put away your notes.

"Oh, that's okay, we'll walk," Yoongi is quick to reply. "It's not far."

They gather up their things, checking their watches often like they're late for something.

"I'll get started on those tests right away," Jimin assures you, and Yoongi gives you a shy little wave goodbye.

They start on the path together, walking almost shoulder to shoulder. You watch them go.

Just before they crest the hill and disappear among the trees, you see Jimin hold up the last bite of his cupcake up to Yoongi's mouth, who takes the offering like it's second nature.

They seem to move like the tide, pushing and pulling effortlessly as if they've known each other for years. Maybe they have, it's not like you know a lot about them.

You resume your work feeling only a little hollow inside.

october 15, 2004

The next day, you're still feeling a little empty and aimless. So you go to your favorite place in town: Magic Shop Books and Oddities.

Namjoon sits behind the desk, wearing a collared shirt under a knit sweater. There's an open book in his hands, titled Morbid Fears and Curious Compulsions.

You allow yourself to watch him for a short moment, admiring how his eyes dart around the page, how he clenches his jaw occasionally when he comes to a difficult passage.

After a while, he looks up and realizes that you're there. He doesn't even flinch at the fact that you've been watching him. A warm smile crosses his face, one that makes his cheeks crease and his dimples pop out (and oh my god is he stunning).

"Hello," he greets you in that velvet voice. "Need help finding anything?"

And as much as you enjoy his company and expertise, you aren't here for research.

"I'm just browsing today, thanks," you reply, returning his smile.

You wander around for a bit, exploring more of the nooks and crannies that make this place so charming. You come across a narrow staircase towards the back of the shop, with a little sign pointing up and stating Poetry Upstairs ↑.

You start to ascend, feet padding on the rug which has been trodden on so much that the wood of the stairs is exposed through the tears in the material.

More shelves and oddities await. It's nice to browse the tomes aimlessly, giving yourself a little break from the constant tension of mapping out the case files in your head.

There's some taxidermy animals (a raccoon playing poker, a squirrel smoking a cigar), a rack of dusty, frayed vinyl records. There's even a little corner with some displayed apparel, fur coats and vintage dresses and old lace.

You comb through the racks, curiosity drawing you towards something unnamed but still itching under your skin. Then, you find an authentic leather jacket. The inner lining is a more warm material, perfect for cold weather, and the inside is crowded with little symbols stitched into the fabric.

You try it on and look in the antique mirror leaning against the wall. It's perfectly oversized, comfortable and practical. You look for a price tag but find nothing.

"How much?" you ask Namjoon when you descent back down to the counter.

He gives the jacket a once-over.

"Twenty bucks?" he says.

"What?!" you blurt out before you can help it. A piece like this go easily go for a hundred, not to mention all the detailing.

"No way, fifty at least," you respond. Namjoon's eyes widen a bit.

"That's very generous, but you don't have to—"

"It's you that's the generous one," you interrupt. "Fifty then, alright?"

A glint of stubbornness lights in his brown eyes. Luckily, you've been stubborn since the day you took your first breath.

"Thirty-five," he counters.

"Forty-five."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Thirty-seven ninety-nine?"

You tilt your chin up in consideration.

"Fine," you say, reaching for your wallet.

He smiles triumphantly as he rings you up. As he's placing the jacket into a bag, you pretend to notice something on the shelf behind him.

"Is that real amber?" you ask, and he turns his head to what you're pointing at. You slip several bills, enough to cover the difference, into the tip jar while his back is turned.

"Yes it is!" he answers proudly when he turns back around, and his visible joy is enough to spark something in the depths of your stomach.

"Interesting," you reply, grabbing the bag and your receipt.

After you've left through the front door, Namjoon glances at the tip jar with a barely concealed grin.

"Sneaky little thing."

october 17, 2004

You're sitting in the cafe with a fresh cup of coffee and a square of cheesecake to snack on when Jimin and Yoongi enter the establishment.

Still the epitome of sleek grace, they are both dressed in black.

Jimin is decked out in a leather trench coat, wearing the same heeled boots, his hair tucked into a black cap and his face obscured by another mask. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, which he cradles like the contents are more precious than gold.

Yoongi is wearing an oversized coat and a bucket hat, the same skinny jeans hugging his slim legs. And no, you're not going to apologize for staring this time.

And neither is anybody else, apparently. Because every patron in the cafe has looked up, and is staring just as intently at the two men.

But Jimin pays them no mind, scanning the room like he's looking for something. He finds it when his gaze lands on your face, which is (embarrassingly) already looking at them.

He takes it as an invitation, approaching the booth you're sitting at with determination, pulling Yoongi along with him.

"Hello, ______. Mind if we join you?" he asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement.

They sink down across from you, Jimin emptying the contents of his bag. Yoongi turns to go to the counter, muttering something about getting a coffee. Heads turn to watch him go.

Jimin spreads his notes across the surface of the table. Then he flashes three test tubes before your eyes, held between his fingers.

"See anything interesting?" he asks a little playfully.

One test tube contains clear liquid, one contains a slightly murkier liquid with sediment floating inside, and one contains a greenish sludge.

"I don't know what I'm looking at," you admit.

"This," he says, pointing to the one with the relatively clear liquid. "Is a sample taken just after we arrived at the lake. It falls under the category of slightly saline water, around 2,000 ppm."

"Ppm?" you cut in.

"Parts per million," he answers helpfully, and that's one of the things you like about Jimin. Even though he's an apparent "genius," as Yoongi put it, he never sounds condescending. He answers any and all of your questions clearly and happily.

"This is pretty normal for lake water, especially a closed body of water like Lurking Lake."

You tilt your head slightly to the side, not quite familiar with the details of a "closed body of water," and Jimin catches it instantly.

"Oh, so lakes that are formed from rivers and streams will have a constant flow of water coming in, right? But the water level of closed lakes tend to decrease because of evaporation. As a result, the salinity often increases because the freshwater is evaporating away."

"Okay, so what you're telling me is this is perfectly normal sample," you say.

"Yes, but," Jimin begins. "This one is a water sample taken just before we left the lake, so roughly an hour later."

He holds up the slightly murkier water.

"This water is highly saline, around 30,000 ppm. That's almost as much as the damn ocean."

Yoongi returns just as you try to wrap your head around what he's implying. Iced Americano for Yoongi, and a caramel latte and vanilla scone for Jimin, though you don't remember Jimin telling him his order. Maybe they do know each other that well.

"So," you start, still confused. "Two samples from the same source, but one is freshwater and one is saltwater?"

"Exactly," Jimin confirms. He lowers his mask to gnash at his vanilla scone, and you see a flash of his (the only word to describe it is luscious) lips before they are hidden again.

"That's..." you want to say impossible, but your previous work has proven that almost nothing is actually so. "Highly unusual."

You don't see it, too busy looking down at the surface of the table deep in thought, but the two men give you a look of respect for your specific word choice. Because if any other group of people in this town know that nothing is truly impossible, it's them.

"What about that one?" you ask, gesturing to the test tube with the seaweed-colored sludge.

"Ah! Now this," Jimin starts excitedly, holding up the glass so the strange stuff inside can catch the light.

"This is an isolation of the lake's main sources of pollution," he explains.

A chuckle escapes from Yoongi, making you whip around to look at him.

"Oh yeah, he stayed up all night with Melancholia, testing away," Yoongi quips fondly.

"Melancholia?" you can't help but ask. Sounds like a girlfriend.

A fierce blush flames across Jimin's face, you can tell because it reaches all the way up to his forehead.

"My microscope," he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

And is it adorable that Jimin has named a piece of his equipment? Yes, of course it is.

You offer him a non-judgemental smile, and he visibly eases up.

"Anyways, this is an amalgamation of all the substances polluting the lake. High concentrations of lead, nitrogen and phosphorous from the algae, and TDSs, though we know that's from the salinity. And I found a high number of synthetic surfactants," Jimin continues.

"Explain to me what that means?" you reply curiously, igniting the same little spark in Jimin's eyes when he gets to talk about the ins and outs of chemistry.

And the more you see that look on his face, the more you want to act clueless just so he has an opportunity to express it.

"So, a surfactant is a substance that tends to reduce the surface tension of the liquid it's dissolved in. These are most likely found in cleaning products and detergents, since their molecules break down the surface tension of water in order to allow the product to spread out and clean better, as well as attaching to dirt particles and rinsing away grease more easily."

"Okay," you say, nodding as you follow along.

"But most surfactants are skin, eye, and respiratory irritants. Carcinogens, sometimes even.”

“Okay,” you say, not sure where he is going with this.

“So, your latest victim, Sharon Mason, her body should’ve reflected the effects of these toxins since she was in the water for several weeks.”

“Hmm,” you mutter. Another mystery. You would think that Mason’s body was encased in time given how little it was disturbed.

“Could that have contributed to why she was practically untouched by the local wildlife? They could smell all the toxins in her body?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs like you’re not quite on the right track.

“Maybe, but there’s a hell of a lot more toxins in the water than there probably was in Mason’s body. Really, it’s a miracle there’s any wildlife in the lake at all,” he says.

You sip at your coffee contemplatively.

“Yoon, tell her what you found,” Jimin encourages, turning to his companion.

Yoongi clears his throat and spreads out some of his notes.

“So, you know how I mentioned that the flora in Ulthar's Grove looked dehydrated despite all the recent rainfall?" Yoongi begins.

"Uh huh." You nod along, listening intently.

"Well, the flora around the lake is not only severely dehydrated, it's dying from salt poisoning."

"Salt poisoning?" you inquire.

"Yeah, so not only does too much salt affect osmosis and draw water from the plant, it can also interfere with the chemical processes used to convert sugars into nutrients."

"Acid rain?" you think out loud, but Yoongi gives a little head shake.

"Not likely. Damage like this is almost always caused by absorption through the soil, since most plants don't absorb much from their leaves and stems."

You sink back in your seat. Fungi, tree rot, lake pollution, salt poisoning. It seems like the more you try to find solutions, the more problems you unearth. Nothing but fragments of death and decay.

You're tired today.

"So, what's next, boss?" Jimin says, voice light like he's trying to cheer you up.

"What could be causing such high concentrations of salt?" you ask to no one in particular.

"Well, a number of things," Yoongi answers. "Wastewater, excess fertilizer, mining and oil extraction."

"So mainly man-made problems," you interrupt. Yoongi offers that straight-mouthed smile.

"Unfortunately, most of the environmental problems that exist today are man-made," he supplies.

You let out a slight huff. You'll have to speak with the mayor to report your most recent findings. Now that you think about it, you remember some of your research on decomposition stating that bodies decay much slower in salt water. Maybe that was the main reason why Mason's body was so preserved.

But why the fuck would the water measure fresh at one point in time and almost as salty as the damn ocean in another?

"Fuck me blue," you sigh to yourself.

Jimin bursts out laughing just as he goes in for another bite of scone, and you thought you see a flash of sharp teeth. He's covering his mouth with his hand before you can be sure.

"Anyways, I've gotta get going," you say, gathering your things, missing the slightly disappointed look from both men as you do so.

"I guess I should get to studying too," Yoongi mutters, sticking headphones into his ears.

"Thank you both for your help, I really appreciate it," you say earnestly, giving both of them a grateful look.

"Of course! Let us know if there's anything else we can help with," Jimin replies, and you can see that he's smiling because of the ways his eyes crinkle above his mask.

You can't help but glance back at Yoongi as you're leaving, as he's diving into a boring-looking science book. It's then that you notice the little chunks of chocolate that he's spread out over the page, like it's a little reward for getting though the tedious reading.

Another tickle in the back of your brain. It's the one you feel when you feel like you're missing a connection, when you're debating on if one of the many innocuous details you can never seem to ignore are important or not.

You're aware again of the several pairs of eyes that are attached to Yoongi, most of them belonging to University students.

Why are they looking at him like that?

You've never been able to hold back the beast that is curiosity, so when you exit the cafe you linger by the entrance, waiting. Not long after, a handful of students leave with their coffees and treats now in to-go containers.

"Excuse me," you say in your best non-confrontational voice.

They stop and turn. Recognition glints in one of the young woman's eyes.

"Hey, you're the journalist, right?" she asks.

Your first thought is that word certainly travels in this town. The second is perfect, run with it!

"Yes, I am," you reply, letting yourself sound a little more official. "I was wondering if I could get a few comments. You'll be credited, of course."

They comply more easily than you would've thought, given the hesitancy of the other small town inhabitants. But then again, these were college students.

You ask them about the three decedents, then about the five missing persons. They tell you more of what you already know, but you have to cover all your bases.

Though, some of them claim that there was barely any press coverage, while some claim there was some tabloid-like slander.

When you've got the formalities out of the way, you get to the questions you really want to ask. Closing your notepad, as if to say "this is off the record," you ask,

"So what's the deal with him?" You nod your head in Yoongi's direction.

"He's a complete freak," one of them quips almost immediately, and it takes you aback.

"Yeah, he lives in that creepy house on the hill," another one supplies.

"He...doesn't really interact with anyone at the university," one of them says more hesitantly. "And he talks to himself. Like a lot."

Talks to himself or talks to his plants, you wonder.

"He's just got bad vibes, like the rest of them."

That makes you pause.

"The rest of them?" you ask.

"Yeah, there's like seven of them that live up there. All creeps, if you ask me."

You've heard enough. Clicking your pen sharply, you straighten and offer them a tight-lipped smile.

Because yes, Yoongi is a little unusual, but you don't care for people who talk that way about people they don't really know. Or maybe it's because you've been called a creep one too many times. It makes you want to show them just how creepy you can truly be.

"Thank you for your time," you say, turning and leaving them standing there on the sidewalk.

october 18, 2004

It's easier to just avoid sleep. If you don't sleep, then you won't dream.

You've been particularly agitated. Maybe it was from the encounter with the college students yesterday.

You like Yoongi and Jimin, they remind you of you. So it's a little disheartening to find out that the townsfolk don't take kindly to that type of person.

And you've hit a bit of a mental dead end with Sharon Mason. More research, more deep-diving, and you can't come up with a practical reason for what led to her death, and what happened to her body afterwards.

Now, as a private investigator, you've come across many cases that resulted in lackluster, disappointing, or downright depressing conclusions.

The unfortunate reality is that humanity, including many of the things they've invented, is a disease. Religion, tradition, social constructs, willful ignorance, they're all the main purveyors of cruelty.

But that same annoying part of your brain, tucked into the furthermost back corner, won't let you let go of the notion that something is unusual about everything here. Something that cannot be explained by conventional methods.

You take an afternoon to decompress by the lake. Even though it was the location of a mysterious death and several strange anomalies, you can't help but feel that the atmosphere is somehow peaceful.

Okay, maybe you are genuinely weird.

The swirling fog is almost hypnotizing, the chill is invigorating, and you enjoy watching all the little squirming fish in the shallows. You even brought a little packed lunch and thermos of hot, frothy coffee.

It's as you're sitting along the shoreline that something unusual happens.

One moment, the air smells of musky lake water, algae and rotting wood. The next, the brisk, biting wind of the sea is whipping through your hair.

The water appears less green and more deep blue. When you look back at the shallows, they no longer house tadpoles, but anemones and small starfish.

You only hesitate a moment before you're reaching in your bag for a sample container, using a pair of tweezers to pluck up some of the organisms.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, mind reeling with possible explanations. You don't come up with many.

When you look back up at the water, a pale hand is sticking up from the gentle waves. It's held out to you, fingers curling slightly, beckoning.

Your stomach nearly falls out of your ass. The hand is only a few meters away, though you can't see anything beneath it given the darkness of the water.

A second, maybe two, though it feels like your breath has been stolen for several minutes.

The hand folds inward, and this time it's an unmistakable invitation.

Less than a blink later it's gone. The water is back to its sickly green color, and the scent of moss and festering wood is back.

Hands shaking, you linger long enough to seal the specimen container and stow it safely in your bag, then you get the hell out of there.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! I would be your best friend forever if you’d be so kind as to share some of your thoughts on the chapter! shit is starting to go down!!

NEXT UPDATE: ??

[hypewinter]

3 HC/AU Prompt Thingy (3)

1). Box Ghost hears he was powerful and feared I'm the Dan timeline, gets ripped

2). Jason, as a reverent can hit ectoplasm ghosts

3). Guys Night Out (choose whatever ghosts you want)

(I love making these and your the only one who writes for them, :))

Ok hear me out: Full DILF box ghost. Don't scroll away and just give me a second of your time ok?

Boxy gets swoll. Real swoll. His gimmick might still be dumb but now he's so strong that no one dares to point that out anymore. That being said, he is still the best dad ever to Boxed Lunch. I'm talking about helping her tie her shoes, being a willing participant in her tea parties, tucking her in at night, the works. He's such a good father that when Boxed Lunch asks for a super rare Orphan toy that was only ever distributed in Gotham, he immediately agrees to get it for her.

Johnny 13 hears about Box Ghost's little outing and invites himself along as he wants to get Kitty some new jewelry to make up for their last fight. Thus begins a wild night for Boxy and Johnny as they both have a heart to heart (now that Johnny 13 can't make fun of him for fear of being punted through a wall) plus they even bond over how much they love the women in their lives.

All is going well. The boys have done some fun stuff around the city, gotten up to a little mischief, and even picked up Johnny's apology jewelry. The only thing left is Boxed Lunch's toy. As they're scouring an abandoned warehouse full of discontinued toys that's when Jason drops it. He'd been getting reports of strange occurrences all night from his men and he'd finally been able to track it down to this warehouse. Of all the things Jason anticipated, it was not two weird looking metas going through boxes. But nevertheless he has a job to do.

He aims his gun at the two metas and demands they step away from the boxes. They don't. Why would they? They're ghosts, this human can't hurt them. Sure enough when Jason eventually fires at their knees after a couple of warning shots, the rubber bullets go right through. Jason is shocked to say the least. And now his mind is whirring a mile a minute trying to figure out how those two just did that. Meta powers? Hidden tech? How is he going to deal with this? He doesn't want to go through the embarrassment of calling for backup.

Johnny 13 on the other hand, is pretty peeved this guy won't leave them alone. He's ruining their night out! So he decides to scare him. Maybe that will make him leave. So Johnny gets right up in Jason's fac- er mask and lets out a pretty impressive ghostly howl if he does say so himself. Except instead of running away, Jason instinctively punches him. In the nose. And it hurts. A lot.

So now Johnny is reeling in pain, Jason realizes he can take care of these guys the old fashioned way and Boxy has finally found the Orphan toy. "Oh no!" I hear you say. "The fight of the century between Boxy and Jason is about to go down!" Actually no. Not really.

Box Ghost has been teaching Boxed Lunch about conflict resolution recently and he is not about to let his actions contradict his words. So he explains the situation to Jason. Jason for his part is a little miffed but understanding. You're just trying to be a good father. I get it. Besides these toys are just gonna collect dust in here anyways. Oh but you do have to return the jewelry. *Sad (and pained) Johnny 13 noises*

Jason kinda feels bad for the whole, punching Johnny in the nose thing (even though it was totally his fault) so he offers to take them to find non-stolen jewelry for Kitty instead. Thus the boys night continues! Now with extra shenanigans.

[aventurinemybeloved]

Summary: Aventurine wouldn't mind being your personal mannequin forever if it meant having you this close to him

Fem!reader who's a popular fashion designer all throughout the universe, currently just "friends" with aventurine here, more like sugar daddy tho- very self indulgent because I have my oc in mind while writing this lol

"Not that I'm questioning your process when it comes to your craft, but aren't you tired?"

"Hm nope, not at all are you?"

"I've handled far worse than just standing for a few hours, don't mind me friend, continue"

While that wasn't exactly a lie, it has been a couple of hours since Aventurine was made to be a makeshift mannequin for you, this was supposed to be a day to relax and take both your mind off work.

But it seems that inspiration has struck the minute you laid eyes on a particular fabric store that just got a new stock on a handful of interesting designs, without a second thought you rushed in, your companion had looked away for one second and the next he sees that you've already made yourself comfortable shuffling through the many options to choose from.

As he made his way back to your side, the faint sound of you mumbling under your breath could be heard clearer and clearer, while he didn't quite catch all of it, he was able to piece some things, one of which you wishing you had your mannequin back at the boutique right about now.

"Hey, why not use me for a bit?"

While Aventurine obviously isn't a mannequin, he can sure act like one if you need it, and that you did so you agreed without putting much thought into it, making a mental note to make him a little something as thanks.

And now here you two were, in the middle of the store as you try to pin fabric with your hands on Aventurine's body, he expected this to happen after all he's not the type to willingly volunteer for something without it benefiting him in some way, but he was not prepared for how close you'd be.

Practically an inch away from him, chest against his as you maneuver the fabric in your hands all over him trying to come up with a design in mind, his nose catching a whiff of your shampoo as the top of your head was practically in his face, he's mastered the art of keeping a poker face but a couple hours of this, no one can blame the man for cracking as time goes on.

Luckily for him it seems you've finally finished whatever it was you were doing, he can't even remember even though you were talking about it earlier, his mind growing muddled with serotonin.

He managed to snap out of it as you call over a worker to place an order for your chosen items, and of course pay for it, Aventurine beat you to it though handing his card while softly smiling.

"It's on me"

"What? Aventurine I can pay for it myself, there's really no need to-"

"I insist, it's a treat for how much I enjoyed being your little helper"

Just as you were about to contradict him, insisting even more that you should be the one paying since he already helped you, the worker has already swiped his card handing it back to him and walked off to prepare your order.

You could only facepalm, this wasn't the first time that he has thwarted your attempts at paying for your own things, he's done it so many times you've lost count, and while it's a fact that all of it combined wouldn't make a dent in his wallet, you still couldn't hell but feel guilty.

Not for long though as you could feel a hand gently patting your head, peaking up at him you could see a soft smile on his face.

"You know the deal~" he said in a singsong way

You playfully rolled your eyes

"Yeah yeah, Just let me know when you're free and we'll hang out again"

It was weird to you at first how that was the only thing he wanted after spending so much on you, but overtime you've sorta started to understand it, and want it as much as he does as well.

[captinamericashusband]

Sober Thoughts | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Stark!Male!Reader

REUPLOAD A/N: Hi. It is currently 12:41 AM – another restless night unfortunately sigh. After watching a YouTube video of someone reading the infamous Harry Potter fanfiction My Immortal (I love you Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way), I became filled with unbridled inspiration to write something of my own. Anyways, enjoy! Also this is the very first fanfiction I’ve ever written. Please please please (by Sabrina Carpenter) give constructive feedback that won’t be too harsh on my little soul. This’ll be a fluffy fanfic. I'll dabble in smut later on maybe if y'all enjoy this enough...teehee. Happy BRAT summer/autumn 💚

P.S. Any errors you see will be excused by the fact English is not my first language and NOT because I suck at writing and revising ;) This fic will also be posted on Ao3 after they accept my invitation. Pls let me in Ao3.

Sober Thoughts

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Y/N gets very drunk in front of Steve

Warnings: Alcohol, profanity

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being the son of Pepper Potts and the eccentric billionaire, playboy and philanthropist (in that exact order) Tony Stark came with its fair share of drawbacks. While financial security was a given for Y/N, a side that came with this coverage was endless PR events. Being the sole heir to the Stark company, Y/N was forcefully thrusted into the public eye at a very young age, constantly forced to appear at social gatherings for the general public to gain somewhat of a perception of him – hopefully for the better. Today was one of these socially exhausting days, and perhaps his least favourite event of all – the annual ‘Stark Gala: proceeds going to various charities!’ A boring name he is very well aware of, and yes the ‘proceeds going to various charities’ line was annoyingly part of the title – something he had so valiantly fought Tony on, albeit unsuccessfully. 

The gala starts in 2 hours. Currently, in stereotypical Stark fashion, Y/N lay sedentary on his bed, staring at the ceiling whilst pondering for ways to escape the tiring event. Amidst his angsty mood, a knock arose from his door followed by Tony entering his room. 

“Hey bud, no more moping around,” he said after flipping the light switch in Y/N's room, “gala’s not gonna dance itself.”

Y/N turned and laid on his belly, eyes stuffed into his pillow in an attempt to suppress the bright lights, “What if I just don’t come, dad? Just chalk my absence to a cold for the press, please. I have no will nor strength to do this.” 

“You know you can’t do that, Y/N/N. The public requests you grace them with your holy presence at the gala.”

“Dad, what if I just set fire to the venue?”

Tony scoffed at his son's comment. “Don’t bother with that sassy attitude, kid. It’ll be over in a flash. Just enjoy, grab some drinks – and hey you might even find yourself a nice date there.” He said, adjusting a frame on the wall. “My best advice is mingle until your mouth falls off – my dad used to say that to me.” 

As Tony continued slightly tidying Y/N's room, a muffled groan erupted from his pillow. Y/N knew he was very well right; there was no escaping. Resigning to his fate, he abruptly stood up from his bed and began rummaging through his closet. “Fine. I’m going because I want to go, not because you’re forcing me to.”

Tony chuckled and ruffled Y/N's hair. “That’s the spirit, champ. I promise you these things can be fun if you let them. Soak up the atmosphere. And enjoy the drinks.” He then murmured, “Just not too much, as well ‘cause…you know.” 

Tony’s sudden shift in tone was in reference to Y/N's relationship with alcohol. While Tony was notorious for being able to hold his liquor, the alcohol-tolerance gene had unfortunately not been passed down to his son. The last time Y/N drank, which had been at Clint’s birthday party, he had somehow woken up inside of a dumpster – not even exaggerating. Another time, he had taken a plane to Washington and found himself passed out on a bench outside the Pentagon – also not a hyperbole. Aware of this knowledge, Y/N planned on getting absolutely wasted in order to pass the time and to make the night somewhat memorable. 

Y/N ran a hand through his hair attempting to fix it whilst looking for proper attire. “Yes, yes I know, father figure. Do you promise it won’t be boring like last year?”

Tony feigned an offended look, putting his palm against his chest. “Boring? There was an open bar and a chocolate fountain – all appearing again this year, by the way. What more could a man ask for?”

“To not come.” Y/N said begrudgingly.

“Okay well sometimes certain things can’t be provided, sugar plum.” A grimace found itself on Y/N's face after hearing the nickname. Before he could respond, Tony was already halfway through the door. “Anyways, be ready by 8; we’re leaving at 8:30 sharp.”

------------------------------------

The night was, to say the least, already an absolute dread. Upon arriving at the upper-echelon-esque museum where the gala was being held, Y/N was already drained. After exiting the limousine that took both him and Tony to the museum, a torrent of camera flashes had blinded Y/N. Furthermore, before even entering the museum, a news reporter had shoved a microphone into his face and asked a very invasive question about his lovelife. Before Y/N could insult the reporter’s rude behaviour, Tony quickly grabbed his arm and ushered him into the museum. 

It was very well aware by the public of Y/N's choice of abstaining from dating, never really having any serious relationships. This was especially questionable for the public considering who his father was, with everyone believing Y/N would’ve followed in lieu of his behaviour during his 20’s. 

However, what the public didn’t know was that the reason for Y/N's singleness was because of one of his dad’s blonde colleagues (that wasn’t Thor). Y/N's crush for  Steve Rogers AKA Captain America had simmered for the last few months. It began during an incident in the Avenger’s Compound in which the inherent Stark idiocy had decided to bite Y/N severely in the ass.

------------------------------------

It had been late at night and Y/N had been tinkering on some project in one of Tony’s spare workshops in the compound when his phone suddenly rang. Picking it up, he saw Tony was calling him. He paused the music blaring in the workshop’s speakers before answering his dad. 

“Hey bud, I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it, father figure?” He set down a screwdriver he was holding down on the workshop table.

“First, you know I hate it when you call me that. Second, there are some files that were delivered to my office that need to be put into storage in the room beside the training area. Would you mind doing it for me?”

“And why can’t you get Happy or yourself to do it?”

“Well I am actually currently at dinner right now with your mother and we are having a blast right now, and Happy is enjoying a paid holiday in the Bahamas.” 

With an overexaggerated sigh, Y/N hung up on Tony and accepted without further question. 

Heading towards Tony’s office, he marvelled at the emptiness of the Avenger’s Compound. While he never interacted much with the Avengers, only in passing, he was aware that some of them were nightowlers. However, there really was no one. Usually, there would be at least a SHIELD agent somewhere, but tonight the building was completely desolate. 

Upon arriving at Tony’s office, Y/N immediately noticed the large boxes propped on his dad's desk. He had clearly underestimated the sizes of the office boxes, with one he (very dramatically) guesstimated being the size of his torso’s length with a width of a baby whale. Unfortunately for him, there were 5 boxes in total. Being the impatient ass he is, he had decided to carry all of the boxes in one go to spare himself having to return to Tony’s office for a second trip. He noticeably struggled and after leaving Tony’s office, he immediately regretted his decision, wishing he inherited more of his mother’s patience. From a bystander's perspective, it was a comical sight seeing Y/N Stark carrying a tower of boxes almost twice his height. 

After rounding a sharp corner – something that could’ve been easily avoided considering the size of the building’s hallways – Y/N  crashed right into another person. Y/N, along with the boxes, crashed loudly and painfully against the cement floor. 

"Shit," Y/N said out loud. The embarrassment from the predicament was too much for him, so he opted for keeping his eyes on the ground, seemingly becoming very interested in the flooring's designed patterns. He stayed in that position, wallowing in his shame until the other person he had forgotten about spoke up.

"Sorry about that, kid." A low and husky voice spoke above Y/N. Y/N moved his eyes from the floor to the other man in the hallway. He was met with piercing blue eyes and a head of light blonde hair. Great. Not only had he embarrassed himself in front of someone, but that certain someone had to be Captain America of all people. Flashing the best smile he could conjure, Y/N stood up from the floor in an attempt to save as much face as possible.

"No, no, it was all my fault Steve," Y/N chirped. Wow, he sounded like a complete wimp. Not only that, but he called Captain America by his actual legal government name. Y/N did not consider himself close enough to call Captain America Steve. The situation was further going off the rails as they both stood in an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, Steve spoke again, breaking the suffocating air of awkwardness.     

"Need help with those." Steve said, smiling slightly at Y/N. Thinking back on it now, it was definitely the smile that got Y/N hooked into Steve. With a curt nod, both of the men started cleaning the mess of files. "Do these need to be in a specific order?" Steve questioned. Quite frankly, Y/N did not care for the files' order; he was much more preoccupied with the strange feeling down in his stomach. He slapped himself internally before answering Steve.

"I'm not sure actually. The person reading these can decipher that themself." Steve chuckled at his words. An actual, genuine laugh. Y/N found whatever he said to not be as funny Steve was making it out to be. But nevertheless, good job Y/N! You made Captain America laugh at something you said! After tidying the files, the two of them started walking, Y/N in the lead with Steve following in his stead. 

"Where to, Stark Jr.?"  

"The storage room by the training grounds."

The walk to the files' designated area was filled with silence – not uncomfortable like before, but instead a somewhat pleasant quiet. Deciding to be bold, Y/N asked Steve a question.

"What do you do all day?" Wow, Y/N didn't intend on that sounding as rude as it did. 

"What do you mean?" Steve responded.

"Like, what do you do when there isn't a mission where you have to save the world or anything." Great save, Y/N said to himself.

"Well, if there isn't a mission I usually train in the gym – nothing bad in doing some extra training. Other than that, I usually visit SHIELD's headquarters to do business that I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about." He turned and smiled at Y/N after saying the last part. The strange feeling was there again.

"That honestly sounds like a miserable existence."  Y/N said. Steve laughed and Y/N smiled, proud of himself for making Captain America laugh a second time this night. "Do you have any actual free time at all?"

"The only time we get to ourselves are weekends. I typically go for jogs in the morning then catch up on any work I didn't get to finish from the weekday. By the time I finish, it's already pretty late at night." As Steve continued to talk, Y/N couldn't help but sneak glances at him. Y/N had noticed a smile was etched on Steve's face and he wondered if it was because Steve enjoyed his company or if he was merely entertained by their topic of conversation. "If I have any time to spare, I like to draw. I've started taking painting classes recently."  

Y/N debated on whether or not to make a joke about Steve's work and him not "finishing" fast enough, but thought it was too weird even for him. "Wow, even on your day off your life sounds bland – aside from the drawing part I guess." Steve had laughed once more at what Y/N said, and Y/N silently applauded himself once again.   

Steve's smile persisted despite Y/N's slight insult to his daily life. "My turn to ask. What do you do all day? I never see you around that much." 

"That's 'cause I'm usually cooped up in a lab somewhere doing tech stuff I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about." Steve chuckled again. "If I'm not doing techy stuff, then I'm usually doing boring paperwork for Stark industries. And if I'm not doing that, I'm sleeping peacefully in my bed."

"Now I'm offended by you calling my life bland when yours’ is equally as boring, Y/N," Steve joked.

"It'd be more exciting if you were in it." Oh Y/N, what exactly are you saying now? Suddenly, the signature Stark flirtiness accumulated within Y/N as the next words left his lips. "You should join me on my bed sometime." Oh sweet Jesus. Even Y/N himself shriveled from pure disgust at what he just said. It wasn't even a remotely good pickup line. He fully expected Steve to bolt away as soon as possible and leave him behind with the behemoth-sized boxes.   

Before Steve could respond, the pair found themselves in front of the storage room. Steve opened the door for Y/N who could only mumble a quiet thanks in response as he was still shaken up from his earlier misspeaking. Finding a secluded table in the room, Y/N set down the boxes with Steve following in suit. The two then exited the room and found themselves in yet again another uncomfortable silence. Before Y/N could hurriedly escape, Steve spoke.  

"You should get out of your lab more. I'd like to see more of you around if that's possible." Upon hearing that, the feeling from earlier was present again in Y/N's stomach except it had been exponentially stronger this time. "I enjoyed talking with you, Y/N."  

It was as if Y/N had lost any inkling of social awareness as he said his next remark. "You'd practically have to pry me off a workbench with those big arms of yours, Steve."  

Steve only laughed in response, clearly somewhat amused by Y/N's bold eccentricity. "I'll see you around, Y/N." Steve started walking away before suddenly turning around with a smirk on his mouth. "Oh, and I'll take you up on that earlier offer." 

------------------------------------

Ironically enough, Y/N and Steve have yet to converse with each other again after their brief encounter. This was mainly due to Y/N avoiding Steve after having said his embarrassing comments – especially about Steve's arms, something Y/N can't help but gag at upon reflection. Looking back at their moment together, Y/N can only sigh and hope the super soldier forgot about his humiliating behaviour. 

Looking around the museum, Y/N stared in awe at the inside's appearance. The building itself had replicated the architecture and grandeur of Ancient Greece, with large columns on the building's interior and exterior. While the building itself was an architectural beauty, what really stood out were the floral decorations garnered around the room, both on the tables surrounding the middle of the museum designated as a dance floor and hanging in between the interior pillars. Y/N had to remind himself to find his mother later, who arrived hours earlier to help decorate, and commend her keen taste in floral arrangements. 

Y/N's moment taking in the interior decor was interrupted when he was approached by Tony and a stubby man wearing a suit. Tony introduced the man to Y/N who turned out to be one of Stark Industries' business partners. Nothing notable was said in their conversation aside from numbers and Y/N's vision for the future of Stark Industries. This was how the first half of the night went: Tony introduced Y/N to one of his business partners, boring conversations about logistics would ensue, Y/N was asked about his ideas on Stark Industries' future – rinse and repeat. After numerous runs of this seemingly perpetual cycle, Y/N's social battery had been absolutely drained and Operation Get-Drunk-And-Pass-Out was set in motion. Excusing himself from Tony's presence, Y/N ran a beeline towards the bar, his stride swift with determination to get his hands on anything alcoholic.

Taking a seat at the bar, Y/N began thinking about what he would drink. Suddenly forgetting every alcoholic beverage that ever existed, he waved down the bartender to get his first drink of the night. "I'd like whatever will get me the most piss-faced, please." The bartender simply gave him a cordial smile and nod before pouring a single clear liquid into a small shot glass. He then gave Y/N the glass who before drinking said, "bottoms up." The mystery liquid was absolutely repulsive and scorched Y/N's throat. His face puckered up in pain, eyes shut as tears formed at the brim of his ducts. "Jesus, dude, what is this!?"

"Everclear." The man answered with a very thick Russian accent. Y/N had no idea what that was nor was aware of its very high alcoholic percentage, almost being pure alcohol.  What he did know was the vile taste and painful burn signified it was able to get him 100% wasted. 

"I'll take 10 more of those, please."

------------------------------------

At shot four, Y/N's vision had started getting blurry, his lips and skin felt tingly, and he kept laughing at the most nonsensical things to laugh at. His drunkenness was made very apparent for everyone at the bar when he pointed towards someone's poorly trimmed goatee and laughed maniacally at it. While his actions had been in poor-taste and he was making a grand fool of himself, Y/N could care less as he revelled with his newly acquainted friend, Everclear. 

Before downing shot number five, a man had approached and sat beside Y/N and began ordering. To his surprise, Captain America in the flesh had situated himself beside him at the bar. Knowing Y/N's already embarrassing encounter with him sober, only God knows what was about to ensue between the two of them while he was intoxicated. 

“Enjoying the night, Mr. America?” Y/N slurred. 

“Clearly not as much as you, Y/N.” Steve responded. He was currently sporting a classic black and white tux with a dark blue tie. His attire, while as basic and stereotypical as they come for a formal event, suited him perfectly. Being the idiot Y/N was while drunk, the spike of confidence that surged within him caused him to comment on Steve's appearance.

Y/N leaned towards Steve, getting very close in his personal space, then saying, “apologies, Captain, but you sure do look ravishing if I do say so myself. I’m proud to be an American.” Y/N giggled at himself while Steve looked at him with an amused expression. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re flirting with me, Y/N.” Steve said, flashing his captivating smile. Y/N stared at him with dazed eyes before leaning back and downing his fifth shot of liquid courage.

"Maybe I am flirting with you, Steve. That's what I was doing last time we talked in case you didn't realize."

"Yes, you were quite subtle the last time we spoke." He said sarcastically. He took a sip of whatever he ordered from the bar before continuing. "Speaking of, I've been meaning to talk to you ever since that night, but I could never get a hold of you."

Y/N laughed, not knowing if Steve actually knew why he hasn't seen him since or if he really was oblivious. "Well, Steve, I was avoiding you because I made a fool of myself the last time we talked." A hiccup came out of Y/N's throat. "And then I said to myself, 'Steve probably thinks I'm weird so I'll avoid him to prevent any further embarrassment'." 

"Well, I really did enjoy our conversation last time, Y/N. I mean it."

Similar to their last encounter, a wave of deafening silence consumed the pair's conversation, the awkward tension causing Y/N to become slightly sober. Fortunately for him, the alcohol was still very much prevalent in his bloodstream, giving him enough confidence to break the awkward silence.

"Sometimes I wish I could just run away – leave this life behind and escape to some deserted island.” Y/N glanced towards Steve who was already looking at him. "It's too much at times – this life."

"It would be easier if you had someone with you for the journey."

Y/N looked at him, feigning an incredulous look. "Are you implying with your word choice, manner of speaking and overall cadence that you want to be that person for me?" Y/N laughed, scoffed was more like it. "I'd say you're the person flirting with me, Steve."

Steve chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Y/N. "Maybe I am, Y/N."

Y/N could only stare at him as his heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with his senses and disposition, but his usual wit was gone and he was speechless – a rare moment for Starks. Noticing his hesitation, Steve leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

"Y/N, you don't have to go through this life alone. I've seen through your father how hard it can be for someone in your position. But you don't have to bear it all by yourself."

"Do you really mean that, Steve? Or are you just saying all this because I'm drunk and pathetic." Y/N's voice wavered, the confidence he had during their last encounter was noticeably absent.

Steve reached out, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I've noticed you, Y/N. Even though we haven't talked much, I can already tell you're a special person. You're more than just Tony Stark's kid. There's something unique about you. And I want to get to know you more."

The butterflies Y/N felt during their last encounter returned and did pirouettes in his stomach. "I don't know what to say, Steve."

"You don't have to say anything right now. Just know I'll be here and I won't be leaving anytime soon."

Y/N looked at Steve, a whirlwind of emotions torpedoing inside of him. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone. The confidence suddenly returned and a smile braced itself on Y/N's face. "Are you technically asking me out?"

Steve only laughed in response before standing up and saying, "I can take you home now if you want."

Y/N quickly stood up. "Oh yes please, Steve. Another minute in here and I think I'll have an aneurysm." As the two started walking, a sudden wave of a burdening reminder of his father's presence washed over Y/N. "Wait, I can't leave – dad said I-." 

Before Y/N could finish, Steve quickly interrupted him. "I think everyone here, including Tony, can see you're in no condition to be here any longer." 

Y/N could only nod, too exhausted to protest. As they exited the building Y/N's head grew heavy, and it gently fell onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve tensed for a moment, then relaxed as his arm slowly wrapped around Y/N’s waist, pulling him closer. “Take me home, Steve,” Y/N mumbled softly against his shoulder, his breath warm against Steve’s neck.

"That's what I'm doing right now, Y/N." Steve said softly.

------------------------------------

After exiting the building, Steve hailed one of the idle limousines across the museum. He had to carefully slide in Y/N's body before sliding in beside him.

The ride back to the Avenger's Compound was quiet and tranquil, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the earlier evening. Steve glanced at his watch - it said 3:33 AM - then turned his gaze towards Y/N's sleeping body leaning against the car window. A small dribble of saliva was escaping the corners of his mouth, and Steve quietly chuckled.

"I can feel you looking at me. Cut it out." 

"Unfortunately, I can't seem to stop my eyes from lingering on things I find beautiful." Y/N could only blush at Steve's unexpectedly sappy words, unaware the super soldier had it in him to be a corny romantic.

"You're no better than any other man, Steve Rogers," Y/N teased, though his voice was softer than before. Steve smiled, but was interrupted by a loud yawn erupting from his mouth. Abruptly, Y/N sat up straight from his slouched position, suddenly remembering something in his drunken haze. "You know, you still have yet to cash in on my offer, Steve."

"You mean your offer to be in bed with you?" Steve asked, his tone in between amusement and curiosity.

Y/N eagerly nodded. "I wouldn't mind if that happened tonight."

Steve's head turned at a concerning speed that definitely would've given a normal person severe whiplash. He gave Y/N a stern yet somber look, one that carried warmth with a reprimanding undertone behind it. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Y/N. I mean, you're drunk and that would be me taking advantage of you – I'd like to think you expect better from me."

Y/N blinked, looking both very offended and embarrassed. "That is absolutely not what I meant, Steve, you naughty man!" He crossed his arms and sunk into the limo's soft leather seats. "I meant that it would be nice if we just laid and went to sleep together...I just don't want to be alone tonight."

Steve's expression softened immediately, understanding the vulnerability behind Y/N's words. Their eyes met, a silent agreement shared between them, filling the rest of the ride with warmth from their comforting connection. 

As the car grew quiet again, Y/N, emboldened by the last remnants of alcohol in his system, threw one more cheeky remark towards Steve. "But you would have sex with me, right?" 

Steve laughed, his head shaking, but the tenderness in his smile spoke volumes. "Get some rest, Y/N. We'll talk in the morning."

------------------------------------

Y/N stirred awake in his bed, his eyes wincing as the harsh rays pierced through a gap between his bedroom curtains. His head pounded, and a wave of nausea met him immediately. Unable to fight it, Y/N ran to his bathroom, purging the contents of last night's festivities in his toilet. It was quite a horrid sight. 

After what seemed like hours, Y/N exited from his bathroom, wanting to get more sleep. Stumbling back to his bed, he noticed the large body-shaped mound from underneath his blankets. Frightened, he approached it cautiously, scared of the idea of having drunkenly slept with a stranger. 

Slowly uncovering the body, Y/N was met with the peaceful sight of a sleeping Captain America. Steve's chest rose and fell steadily, lips parted as he took even breaths. Then, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him like a semi-good dream and Y/N mentally facepalmed himself. However, while he internally scolded himself for his embarrassing behaviour, he also congratulated himself for having been somewhat successful in his endeavours of pursuing Steve. 

Laying back down gingerly beside Steve, Y/N grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The time was 11:11 AM and Y/N silently made a wish to himself. He noticed he had received 10 missed calls and nearly 50+ messages from his dad. Thinking it was regarding his early leave from the gala, Y/N decided to deal with his father later, still exhausted from the night before. Opening Twitter (he refused to call it 'X'), Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he saw his name trending alongside 'Steve Rogers' and 'Captain America.' A knot formed in his stomach and he decided to Google his name. The urge to puke suddenly returned as he was met with a news article reading:

‘Hottest New Couple in NYC?! – Captain America & Y/N Stark Seen  Seen Getting Cozy During Annual Stark Gala’  

Below the headline was a picture snapped of Steve and Y/N at the bar, Steve leaning closely towards Y/N as both shared very flirtatious smiles towards each other. Y/N groaned loudly, causing Steve to stir awake. Today was going to be PR hell.

FIN

A/N: This actually took multiple days to write and while rereading it it's actually really corny? But, fanfic writing is actually kind of fun, I might do it more. Anyways, hope you enjoyed :) Also sorry for any mistakes I'm too lazy to revise

[vainvenus]

⌲;꒰ Hypnotic. ꒱ ⌲;꒰ Pt. 1 ꒱

Pairing - Peacekeeper! Sejanus x Fem!Reader

Synopsis - Sejanus is swooned by one of Lucy Gray's friends.

Includings - Covey member!reader, Sejanus being absolutely smitten, toxic ex, unwanted touch and nicknames, bar fights!, little ooc!Sejanus, reader patches Sejanus up, mostly fluff

An - This is mostly Sejanus's POV with him js being so in love

I'll probably write a pt.2 if wanted!

It was like any other night at the covey, it was a little bit crowded and a bit hot but Sejanus had tagged along with Coriolanus because he loved coming to see Lucy Gray preform.

She ended her song, claps and yells of praises following after she was finished and she grabbed the microphone with a bright smile on her face.

"Y'all have just been a wonderful crowd!" Lucy Gray hummed as she shimmied her shoulders. "Better keep that energy up for [Y/nnn]! Or should I say [N/n]?" She said the name in a sing-song tone as if she were teasing the girl that walked up onto the stage.

Sejanus had felt like the world slowed down for a moment, his eyes never leaving her body as she walked. She wore a dark cropped tank-top with a long white skirt and a white laced cardigan, the lace having some sort of flower pattern to it and brown boots. She had a violin case hanging from her shoulder.

She looked so relaxed and comfortable to Sejanus, like she hadn't a care in the world and was simply living in the moment.

"Oh c'mon Luce you know I hate that nickname." She rolled her eyes, playfully waving her hand to shoo the brunette from the stage and she playfully stuck out her tongue at her.

The [h/c] haired girl grabbed the microphone, adjusting it for her height. She tapped on it as her eyes scanned around the crowd for a second before she spoke; "Y'all miss me?"

The crowd erupted in short cheers and the Sejanus didn't think that her smile could get any bigger until she laughed at the reaction and Sejanus couldn't help but smile from it, like it was contagious.

"I know, I know. Y'all must have missed me soo much." She hummed, raising her brows as someone held out a bottle towards her and she generously took it.

"For me? Oh you shouldn't have, y'all know I stopped drinking...never." She giggled, taking a long swing of whatever was in the bottle, her face scrunching up at the strong taste.

There was no doubt that her and Lucy Gray were friends, a similar sense of fashion along with their free spirits and speaking whatever came to mind and being able to control the energy of an entire room..it was endearing.

Even the way she played the violin, her voice soft enough to hear above the violin strings but not loud enough to make her singing feel out of place. The way she swayed side to side slightly as she preformed it was all hypnotizing.

She had her eyes closed most of the time while she played, allowing Sejanus to take in her beauty under the spotlight. He never missed how her smile grew softer when she finished a note she seemed impressed with.

It was different from Lucy Gray, while they both had the energy to make the crowd go wild Lucy Gray kept that energy with her music a lot of the time, making people stomp around and move their bodies in a fast and excitable fashion.

But [Y/n]?

It was soothing, it felt like music he would hear if he were dragged to one of those boring parties his father would be hosting but she gave the music life with her voice as it carried through the covey. Couples swinging with each other side to side on the dance floor or cuddled up with each other with soft smiles.

"[Y/n]! [Y/n], baby!"

The violinist opened her eyes, narrowing as they landed on a ginger. She has decided to ignore him, continuing to play as she sang softly although a few of her notes seem to be getting off-key from being side tracked.

"[Y/n], c'mon you can't ignore me forever. I said I was sorry, that I wouldn't do it again." He moped, getting closer to the stage and [Y/n]'s eyes flashed a look of fear as she stepped back.

"Rusty, you better stop right there." Lucy Gray had warned, stepping up on the stage as [Y/n]'s playing slowly coming to a stop at the distraction.

Rusty hadn't listened though, attempting to walk up the stairs until one of the peacekeepers had pulled him back by his sleeve and he yanked his arm back, elbowing them in the nose.

[Y/n] frowned, her brows drawn up in worry as her eyes darted between the two. "Yall, please, I don't want a rumble in here tonight-"

This caused the Peacekeeper to stumble back into somebody else who pushed him and that caused that person to get grabbed and before you knew it somebody broke glass over someone's head followed by a scream and that's when the fighting started.

"Cmon y'all, calm down! Please!" [Y/n] had pleaded through the microphone although her voice was drowned out by the chaos happening in front of the stage.

Sejanus stood up, seeing the ginger haired boy crawl his way to the stage. He grabbed at the bottom of her skirt, slurring nonsense as she clenched onto her instrument with Lucy Gray and [Y/n] both screaming at him.

"Stop! Stop it! Get off of me right now or-"

But before she could finish her plea he was practically yanked off of her and her eyes looked over to the male and it was like Sejanus wasn't even thinking as he pulled his fist back and let it connect.

He didn't even know how many times her had punched Rusty before he was being pulled away– dragged off of the boy and he heard Coriolanus scolding him under his breath as they were rushing through the crowd, following shortly behind [Y/n] and Lucy Gray.

The two peacekeepers were led to a room that wasn't too far from the main area. It seemed like a little room for the Covey performers to get ready when needed with the amount of makeup, hairbrushes, guitar picks and other things laying around. Sejanus sat down next to Coriolanus, letting out a small huff as he had finally caught his breath.

"Never a dull day at the covey." Coriolanus commented once he had caught his breath.

"I'm so sorry y'all had to get dragged into that." [Y/n] had apologized while she set her instrument down. She went to grab a white box and a small bottle of something from one of the counters as she walked back over to the group.

"It's not your fault, hun. You shouldn't be the one apologizing." Lucy Gray scoffed, shaking her head.

[Y/n] shrugged her shoulders as she made her way over to Sejanus, taking a seat beside him as she set the things down. "I still feel sour, so much for first impressions."

"I still think you made a good first impression." Sejanus said, meeting her eyes as she opened the first-aid-kit and he saw that contagious smile again.

"Oh c'mon, you're just saying that." She hummed, pouring a bit of alcohol onto a cotton pad as she held out her hand for his and he willingly placed his hand in hers.

"No, I'm serious. He doesn't change the fact that your performance was beautiful, it was hypnotizing."

[Y/n] playful narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were trying to sense if he was lying or not. As she saw that he was pretty serious she hummed, looking down at his bruised knuckles.

"You liked it that much?" She asked as she carefully dabbed at his knuckles and Sejanus sucked on his teeth before giving a nod.

"It was pretty, where did you learn to play like that?" He asked, trying to ignore the small burn every time she dabbed the cotton swab on his knuckles.

"My ma' taught me." She giggled a little bit. "It's funny cus' I absolutely hated it when I was younger. Thought violins were the root of all evil." She said as she was trying to finish cleaning his hands as quickly as she could without rushing and Sejanus nodded along.

"But I'm glad I didn't quit, it's such a beautiful instrument. Maybe even better than a guitar" She teased, glancing over at Lucy Gray who was making sure Coriolanus hadn't any bruises and she shook her head.

"Oh you wish." She replied, taking a seat on one of the counters and letting her feet swing back and forth.

"I'm glad you didn't quit." Sejanus piped up as [Y/n] grabbed the bandages and began wrapping them around his knuckles, grabbing a piece of tape to keep it still.

"Me too, probably wouldn't have started performing at the covey or met Lucy Gray then I wouldn't have met you two." She pulled away from Coriolanus, giggling under her breath as she put things away.

"Funny how one screechy instrument could've stopped us from meeting, hm?"

"I'm glad it didn't." Sejanus softly replied as he leaned back in his seat with a sigh, he hoped that this wouldn't report back and get him into some sort of trouble.

"Maybe we could see each other tomorrow to make up for all this mess?" [Y/n] asked the group as she put the First-Aid-Kit back. "Something more peaceful like this was supposed to be."

Lucy Gray clapped her hands, smiling wide. "The lake!"

[Y/n] gasped, almost like an excited kid who had got a present they had been begging for. "Oh my god, the lake!"

"The lake?" The two boys repeated, brows furrowed as they gave each other a look still not completely familiar with District 12.

"It's a beautiful little lake a bit of a walk from here. It's far away from people so no one should bother us." [Y/n] said and Sejanus nodded.

"I'd- we'd love that." Sejanus smile and Coriolanus glanced over at him from the corner of his eye before back at the two girls.

"Great, we can meet here around noon to walk together."

[merakiui]

Have you read the new Platinum Jacket Riddle card story yet?

Riddle getting fashion advice from Cater and Ace because he doesn't know how to dress casually. Imagine Riddle in a panic because he somehow landed a date and has no idea how to dress for it. Cue the shopping montage with the boys!

Riddle getting assigned Vorpal as a hazing because the other students knew he was a difficult horse and wanted to put Riddle in his place. There is so much potential for a bully!darling on that one. Something something you are going to teach that brat Riddle a lesson, but he hangs on until he earns your respect (and love?).

I HAVE AND OMG!!!!! SO MANY THOUGHTS!!!

Riddle who was told by his parents that he must always wear a tie because it's appropriate,,,, Riddle who has no sense of casual fashion because he's only ever dressed formally. Which would make sense considering in the manga he's dressed in very studious attire while Che'nya and Trey are in clothes that children their age typically wear. But Riddle is always wearing his Sunday best, as it's what his parents (more so his mother, though) would choose for him. It's so cute that he's asking for fashion advice because he wants to dress more casually. >w<

"because he somehow landed a date" lol,,, Riddle unintentionally winning darling's heart and now he has no idea what to do or how to dress. It's his first date ever! Cater and Ace are on the case. >:D Cater's very excited to dress Riddle in all kinds of aesthetics and styles to see which will be best for his date and Ace is there to be bluntly honest about what works and what doesn't. Ace (self-proclaimed) "rizz master" Trappola knows what the people like to see in a man (he has no idea). All in all, a very fun day spent trying on clothes and shopping. Maybe they wear silly disguises to keep an eye on Riddle during his date with you and cheer him on from the sidelines.

Did you also see how Riddle mentions his Housewarden journal has less and less room now that he's been writing so many things in it!!! AAAAA RIDDLE SOCIAL ERA!!!! I'm so happy for him,, so proud. T^T <3 he finally has friends and is more involved with them and the rest of his dorm. Very much well-deserved!!!

>:( those students!!!!!! Assigning Riddle a difficult horse with the hope that he would quit Equestrian Club altogether...... what a cruel thing to do. But because Riddle is determined and stubborn, he was able to connect with and have mutual trust with Vorpal!!! :D he's truly the best. <3 an impressive feat that only Riddle could have accomplished. I think Riddle and Vorpal have a few similarities, so perhaps that is why they both get along so well. Both are outcasted and disliked by others due to their difficult-to-manage personalities. They both deserve the world. orz

OOOOO a bully darling..... preying on new club member Riddle Rosehearts, hoping to put him in his place. Your bullying has the opposite effect. ;;; rather than discourage him, it only inspires him to do better, to push himself harder, all so he can gain your approval. Riddle who falls in love with you despite all of the mean things you put him through. He admires you in a way that no one else could. Others may think you're cruel or unfriendly, but to Riddle you're an inspiration. He'll continue to strive for your love respect and recognition.

AAAA thoughts of you and Riddle somehow getting locked in the horse stables and now the two of you have to actually work together to find some way to get out so you don't spend all night trapped there. >:) hehe maybe you bully Riddle only because you feel your position in the club is threatened by him because he turns out to be a very good Equestrian Club member. Intending to lock Riddle in there, but it backfires and now you're trapped alongside him.

[spyderlondon]

Could you write a showtime fic based off the non-canon kiss image from the time capsule au?

A/N: Anon, I could kiss you for this request! /lh I was just telling Mango that I was gonna sneak that kiss into the 1957.

This is non-canon so I'm gonna do stuff that Mango has told me doesn't happen lol

Ko-fi

Time Capsule AU and art by @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule @mangotangerinepastry

Song in Harmony

Music swirled around the air as a young jester played her violin for a crowd while dancing around the stage before going down off the stage and continued her dance on the circus floor. As she performed, as another girl approached her to take over the dancing as the violinist let herself stand still as the welcomed red silken dancer went to the center of the circus' grounds to perform their dance- having the audience's eyes move from the violinist to the dancer which allowed Pomni to breathe a sigh of relief at the way all the eyes left her.

Well, that was except for two eyes that she could feel watching only her from the shadows. While still letting her bow glide and her fingers dance on the instrument, she looked over her shoulder to see The Ringmaster staring right at her, watching her every move. The shadows blocked his expression but she believed she could almost see his fingers moving as if playing along with her on his piano. She smiled warmly at the movements before she flinched as she saw his fingers suddenly contort in a painful fashion making him forcefully halt what he was doing. She didn't miss the painful, saddened look that caused him to have.

The violinist's head turned back to her violin as she went back to focusing on her performance, hiding a grimace behind her smile. She didn't want the guests to complain to an already hurt and depressed Ringmaster. She took a breath before increasing the tempo as she did a crescendo to a fortissimo as above of her a couple acrobats began to swing on the trapezes on beat with her music and a couple silk dancers joined Gangle in her performance.

Pomni's bow began to have some of its hair snap in half with the intensity and speed that she was playing at. Her eyes closed as she just listened purely to the music, imagining Caine's gorgeous piano playing right along with her which increased her passion even further.

The crowd was entirely silent for once as the song got closer to its finale, the trapeze artists both flipped high in the air to prepare for end of the song. Gangle began to dance closer to Pomni as she joined in on the dance once more, her eyes opening while smiling at the masked girl.

The bow slammed on the strings just hard enough to do a subito fortissimo a few times while one of the trapeze artists' expertly grabbed onto the ankles of the second one right before the latter of the two grabbed the incoming trapeze bar, all before the violinist ended on a decrescendo that ended at a mezzo forte whole note that she made sure to punctuate with a nice vibrato. By then, the trapeze artists both landed on their separate platforms.

There was silence all through the circus as the audience just stared with their expressionless masks and the performers who had ended on their final poses were breathing heavily after a long and successful performance.

It wasn't until about thirty seconds later that the crowd erupted into boisterous cheering and excitement over such a thrilling act that was put on by everyone.

While the rest of the performers were waving and grinning at the audience, the violinist's attention was towards the shadows where she was able to see that The Ringmaster, Caine, actually had his eyes wide open with an actual sparkle of life inside of them as he clapped just as, maybe even harder, than the audience members while staring straight into her eyes with such pride and adoration that her heart couldn't help but swell in her own pride.

Gangle paused as she saw her friend staring off at the shadows and followed her gaze before chuckling to herself. She gently pried away the violin and bow from her, "Go on. We both know what you are so desperate to do." She whispered to her with a knowing smile.

Pomni blushed a bit at that statement but simply muttered a quiet thank you before racing off towards the man standing in the shadows with a large, bright smile on her face. She ran as fast as she could that her jester hat blew right off of her head but she couldn't care less as she leapt straight into The Ringmaster's arms where he caught her in surprise but held her high to his face as her knees touched in a way that wrapped around his torso, both knowing exactly what they craved.

Caine closed his teeth as she placed her hands underneath his jaw before she leaned in and kissed him with her eyes fluttering shut in her passion. They both felt nothing but complete adoration for each other that The Ringmaster even fought off the AI that tried to force him away from her since the guests were still in the audience.

In that one moment, both of them just felt nothing but their warm, loving hearts beating to the song of their love.

[zzprompto]

Hi, can u write a Yoshida Hirofumi x feminine!male!reader who is Denji’s twin brother ? Please thanks you ☺️

☆ not his sister

yoshida hirofumi x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: above.

the lowercase is intentional !

yoshida knew about denji, his secret identity and pretty much everything about him there was to know. however, yoshida didn't know that denji had a twin brother. it was almost like it was some sort of secret, but of course it wasn't. it was just pure coincidence that yoshida never met denji's brother whenever he was around.

usually, whenever yoshida came over to denji's place to check up on him, it was just them two. there was no twin brother, or mention of him at all. sure, yoshida would see nayuta from time to time, but there was nobody else. naturally, yoshida thought it was just denji and nayuta living alone.

however, his opinions soon changed.

yoshida went to denji's house as usual, wanting to check up on him and see if he really hadn't spilt the word on him being chainsaw man or whatever. he expected denji to open the door, or even nayuta. but that is far from what had happened.

"hello?" a voice said as they opened the door, revealing themselves and the home behind them to denji. the person was dressed up all femininely, so they definitely looked like a woman. however, their somewhat low voice put yoshida off, and he was definitely confused. yoshida had to do a double take to make sure he was at the right place, and not at denji's neighbours by accident.

the black haired boy cleared his throat, regaining his senses before looking up at the person infront of him. "hello. i didn't know denji had another sister.. is denji at home right now?" yoshida asked, a small grin on his face as he waited for an answer. the other person's face seemed to contort into a look of confusion, almost as if the words coming from yoshida's mouth seemed like nonsense.

"denji's not at home.. he went out with nayuta to get some groceries." they responded with a small sigh before continuing. "but i'm not his sister. i'm his brother." he said, a small frown on his lips as he looked over at yoshida. now that they mentioned it, it was true. they were definitely denji's brother, they looked the part and even sounded like denji.. they were too alike and it sort of freaked yoshida out.

"ah.. of course. sorry for assuming." yoshida chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. that was awkward, he should've just kept his mouth shut earlier and not said anything about the boy being denji's sister or whatever. "well, if denji's not at home, can i take you to a cafe as an apology?" yoshida grinned, trying his best to make up for his mistake.

[name] hummed, considering yoshida's offer for a few seconds. it did sound tempting, and yoshida seemed to be denji's friend so he could trust the other boy.. however, [name] was dirt broke. just like denji. there was no way he could afford to go to a cafe of all places, his fashion taste was too expensive for him to be able to go to a cafe!

"i'd love to but.. i'm broke." he stated blankly, staring at yoshida. this whole situation seemed to give yoshida deja vu from the first time he met denji after the whole assassination protection period. it was weird.

yoshida shook his head and gave [name] a light chuckle. "no, don't worry about payment. i'll take care of the cost, i insulted such a.. pretty man like you i'll pay for everything." he replied, grinning at [name]. he really hoped [name] would accept his proposition now if he was offering to pay. yoshida also hoped [name] wouldn't be like his brother, buying almost everything off of the menu...

[name]'s eyes widened and he looked estatic by the proposition. he couldn't believe that yoshida wanted to be such a gentleman to him.. he admired it truly. "in that case, i'd love to go to a cafe with you." [name] smiled back, and it almost felt like he had accepted a date from yoshida. the black haired boy didn't know he had gotten into this mess. two cafe dates with two siblings. he was probably the first person in the world to do such a thing in such a short amount of time too.

after [name] got himself ready, the two set off to the cafe. they shared different things on their way their such as their names, their favourite music.. all the sorts of things you tell someone as small talk. or, rather, the things you try to ask your date about on your first date. it definitely felt like yoshida was going on a first date with [name] at this point, and he wasn't sure if he should be complaining or not.

the time went on, and so did the 'date'. yoshida found out more and more about [name], and the fact that he was practically nothing like denji even though they were twins. it sort of fascinated yoshida, thinking that twins should be in sync with eachother at all times, but yoshida was still amused nonetheless. he really started to enjoy [name]'s company, and even the way he dressed. he never knew a man could pull of such a nice outfit, despite how feminine it looked. [name] really started to change yoshida's perpective, and even the way his heart beat. it was as if yoshida's heart was racing around [name], even though they had met just a few hours ago and yoshida thought [name] was a girl at first.

yoshida decided to be a gentleman and walk [name] home. they exchanged more pleasantries on the way, smiling at eachother as they walked. once they reached [name]'s place, yoshida stopped and so did [name].

"thank you for today." [name] said softly, a smile adorned on his lips as he looked at the black haired male. "it was really nice, all of it.. it sucks when i can't do nice things like that more often, you know? i keep spending money on my outfits rather than stuff like that." he chuckled a little, trying to make light of the situation.

yoshida nodded and he smiled back at [name]. "of course, it was my pleasure. you can always ask me if you want to such a thing again sometime, it'll be my treat." he replied, already planning the next 'dates' he'd go on with [name].

then, the front door opened to reveal denji standing in the doorway with his arms over his chest. "[name]! where have ya been! we've been waiting for ya!" he said, a small groan escaping his lips. "we're hungry!" he said, pouting at his brother.

[name] sighed and he rolled his eyes playfully at his brother's antics before turning around to head inside. "see you around, yoshida!" [name] called out, walking inside the house.

"see you, [name]!" yoshida replied, still smiling softly at [name] before looking at denji. "you should've told me you had such a handsome brother, denji. i feel like i've been missing out on a lot." yoshida teased before he turned around and made his own way home.

denji went bright red and almost started going off at what yoshida had said. only time would tell what denji would do to yoshida once they met at school again.

author's note : sorry for not posting so much! i'm trying to come up with some ideas but i'm stumped. i may start writing for mha since i started rewatching it recently, so if you guys want to request for mha you can ! i'll add it to my masterlist and everything.

- navigation : masterlist : request

[vintagetvstars]

Wayne Rogers Vs. Alejandro Rey

Propaganda

Wayne Rogers - (M*A*S*H, Stagecoach West, City of Angels) - "He just had this warmth and gentleness to him that made him sooo attractive no matter at what age..." Full text propaganda below the cut.

Alejandro Rey - (The Flying Nun) - With its mostly female core cast, The Flying Nun may be an odd property to source a Hot Man from, but look at him. As debonair playboy Carlos Ramirez, Rey had to meet the difficult task of being suave and sexy but also really over the top, continually exasperated, and funny, and he delivered so well. He's hilarious as a foil to Sally Field's earnest Sister Bertrille, Carlos essentially being her combination best friend, low-stakes antagonist, shenanigans victim, and (according to some fans) maybe love interest. Though primarily acting for comedy, Rey's also able to handle scenes that require more warmth and subtlety, and he just looks divine. The eyes and the profile alone are enough to make you forgot the ridiculous late-60s fashions he wears.

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Wayne Rogers:

He just had this warmth and gentleness to him that made him sooo attractive no matter at what age. If his good looks and his charming smile (and those curls ahh!) aren't enough to convince you to vote for this nice, funny, 6ft tall man, then let me hit you with some random information What i adore is the duality of this man! First he served his duty in the navy and was about to study law when he accompanied a friend to a theatre play one evening and was so amazed by the art of acting that he decided to achieve an acting career instead. When he wanted to leave MASH after only three seasons -although the contract said for him to stay much longer-, they couldn't do anything about it bc he hadn't even signed it in the first place (there was a paragraph in it that he strongly disagreed with). If that isn't badass idk what is! And later in his career, not only did he act, write and produce all kinds of TV, movie and stage productions but he also started a successful financial business. Also (at least when he was older) he supposedly went for a swim in the sea EVERY morning. Btw when he was still getting started and was financially struggling, he shared a flat in New York and an overcoat for auditions with (also still struggling) colleague Peter Falk

Alejandro Rey:

[hyperactively-me]

hi!!

i love your work with king ghost and i was wondering if you could potentially write a future wedding scene for the two, as i know that the main character wasnt happy with how it went and now that they’re all lovey dovey maybe they could recreate the wedding but ensure that they are both happy with how it goes?

xoxo

i was honestly super self indulgent in this. i’m not ashamed. also i'm pretty proud of this. peace and love!

You sit across from Simon at the dinner table, the soft glow of candles casting shadows on the walls. The clink of silverware against porcelain creates an ambience, but there’s something weighing heavy on your mind. 

Reminiscing on the past few months of your relationship with Simon was like a shot of espresso to your system. After falling irrevocably in love with each other, there was a slight gnawing sensation at your heart. You were brought back to your wedding day. God, you despised that day. Thinking about it now made your heart ache. You take a breath, the idea stirring in your mind like an impending rainstorm.

Finally, you break the silence. “Simon,” you start tentatively, “can we talk about something?”

He looks up from his plate, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Hm?”

“Let’s redo our wedding.”

He stops eating for a moment, fork hovering in the air.

“What?”

“Let’s redo our wedding,” you restate. “I mean, we both despised it, right?”

He sets his fork down. 

“It was too big, too forced,” you say carefully, studying his face for any reactions. 

Simon’s expression shifts from confusion to understanding, and then to a contemplative gaze. He absorbs your words, the weight of shared dissatisfaction settling between you like a fragile pact.

“You really think we should?” he asks, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Nodding, you continue, “I want something that feels like us, not some show for people we barely know. I don’t want it to be a performance for others, like how it was originally.” You take a breath. “And, then, we weren’t in love,” you nearly whisper.

Simon’s heart clenches in his chest. 

He reaches across the table, his hand finding yours. “You’re right,” he admits. “What do you have in mind?”

A smile tugs at your lips as ideas race through your mind. 

. . .

As you both delve into planning, the anticipation of a redo makes your heart sing. You had dedicated most of your free time to coming up with plans, a guest list, a location, a cake, and of course, a dress. The prospect of another wedding becomes more than just a contract agreement; it’s a renewal of your love for each other.

The biggest topic weighing on your mind, though, was writing your vows. You wanted something simple, yet meaningful, pulling elements of your relationship with Simon that resonates with your relationship. 

The days leading up to the wedding redo were a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. Together, you and Simon poured over every detail, making sure that this time, it truly reflected a union of love. The guest list was trimmed down to include only those who held a special place in your hearts. Your siblings had been invited, prime guests. You had also invited your tutors, a few guards and maids you had become friendly with, some fellow noble people you had grown up with who you had shared fond memories with. Simon had also invited friends, namely Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro, and Rudy. The location was in the palace gardens, surrounded by your favorite flowers and billowy trees, a stark contrast to the grand chapel of your first wedding.

You had asked your eldest sibling to walk you down the aisle. You thought back to how you walked down the aisle alone in the chapel all those months ago. You shudder, but proud that you were still able to overcome it in the moment, no matter how scared you were at the time. 

Simon had, unbeknownst to you, fashioned you both new wedding rings. Kastron was widely known for its richly abundant silver mines, so much so that the economy would not function properly if something were to happen to the silver. He had fashioned himself a thick, simple silver band, and you a silver band with a fat diamond encrusted on it. Only the best, most beautiful ring for his beautiful wife. 

. . . 

As the date approached, you found yourself standing in front of a mirror, admiring the elegant dress you had chosen. It wasn’t something you were forced to wear, just a gown that made you feel like yourself. It was tailored perfectly to your body, accentuating your frame in the most flattering manner. Your hair and makeup was what you wanted, not like some done-up cakey…thing, you were before. Your veil was long but not obnoxious, pearls strewn about the thin fabric, sewn to perfection. 

You looked perfect. The maids fluttering about you had cooed at you, complimenting how beautiful and perfect you look. You thank them warmly, your vision of your outfit becoming a reality thanks to them. 

Emerging from your room, you find your sibling waiting patiently in the hallway. As you step out, they rise to their feet, a smile blossoming on their face at the sight of you. 

“You look amazing!” they exclaim, giving you a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” you say warmly, fluffing out your dress. 

“Oh, by the way, here's your bouquet,” they offer the bouquet in their hands to you, and you accept it delicately from their grasp. It was crafted by one of your younger siblings, adding another personal touch to the wedding.

“Are you ready?” your sibling asks, bumping their shoulder against yours. 

“I’ve never been more ready in my life,” you smile, taking a deep breath. 

With the bouquet in hand, you make your way to the garden, the soft rustle of the veil and the delicate fragrance of the flowers creating a cocoon of joy around you. You peer out a window next to the doors to the garden. You see all of your loved ones outside, sitting in the rows of chairs set outside. Flowers adorned practically every square foot of the garden, ribbons fluttered gently in the wind, and streamers hung from the trees, creating a dreamy, white wedding. 

Your sibling holds their arm out for you, and you take it, squeezing them close against you. Arm in arm with your sibling, you take a moment to soak in the anticipation. The air is filled with a mixture of nerves and excitement, and the vibrant energy of the garden beckons you forward.

As you step through the doors, the soft melodies of a small orchestra fills the air. The garden is a vision of ethereal beauty. The sun casts a warm glow over the scene, and a hush falls over the small crowd. The guests turn to look, their expressions shifting from idle chatter to a quiet awe.

You catch Simon's eyes, and a warmth passes between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the significance of this moment. Simon, adorned in his silver Kastron armor and numerous military awards, looked at you with a warmth in his eyes that spoke volumes. Tears immediately prick the corners of your eyes the moment you make eye contact with Simon. You take another deep breath, willing your emotions to stay at bay until the right moment. He’s standing under an arch of flowers where your vows will be exchanged. His face lights up with a mixture of relief and admiration as he sees you. The love in his eyes reassures you that this moment is everything you both hoped for.

Walking down the aisle, you feel every step, every beat of your heart echoing in the air. The fragrance of flowers envelops you, and the sounds of nature seem to harmonize with the melodies playing softly in the background.

Reaching the top, you share a tender moment with Simon as he extends his hand to you, guiding you to stand in front of him, and your sibling takes their place among the other attendees. The officiant begins the ceremony, weaving words that echo the journey of love. Simon doesn’t take his eyes off you once, studying every inch of your face. Now, to exchange the vows. The part you were most excited for. You clear your throat. 

“Simon, from this day forward, I promise to laugh with you in joy, comfort you in sorrow, and cherish our moments together. I vow to be your partner in all things, stand by your side with love and unwavering support. With you, I've found my home, my heart, and my forever. Today, I choose you, and every day after, I will choose us.” You flash a teary smile, grasping onto Simon’s hands. He’s just staring at you, completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’s so in love. 

“And, for the groom,” the officiant says, nudging Simon out of his trance. Simon stands up straighter and clears his throat. 

"My dove, today and always, I promise to stand by you. I promise to support your dreams, celebrate your triumphs, and navigate life's challenges together.” He pauses suddenly, swallowing thickly. You squeeze his hands tighter, smiling at him encouragingly. He takes a breath and resumes, “I choose you as my partner, my confidant, and my queen. With you, every day is an adventure, and I eagerly look forward to a lifetime of love and happiness."

You can’t stop the stray tear that falls down your cheek. Simon swipes the pad of his finger over your cheek, smiling softly at you. 

The officiant smiles warmly before continuing. “Now, as a symbol of your commitment to each other, you will exchange rings.”

Simon takes a step back, retrieving a small box from the officiant. Opening it, he reveals two gleaming silver rings nestled inside. You marvel at the simplicity and elegance of the bands, symbols of a promise that transcends words. 

“Made ‘em myself,” he whispers to you, watching you marvel at the diamond on your ring.

“They’re absolutely stunning, Si,” you whisper back, tracing your finger over the diamond. 

Simon gently takes your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As he slides the ring onto your finger, he meets your gaze with an intensity that speaks volumes. The cool silver warms against your skin, a tangible reminder of this sacred moment. 

You reach for the box now, fingers trembling with emotion. With a heartfelt smile, you look into Simon's eyes as you slip the ring onto his finger. The circle completes, a symbol of unending love and commitment.

The officiant continues, “By the power vested in me and the love that you've declared today, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

Simon's eyes light up, and he cups your face gently, brushing your hair out of your face before drawing you into a deep kiss. He wraps his arms around your torso, leaning you back into a dip as he kisses you, pulling a small giggle from you as he dips you. Your arms reach around Simon’s neck, pulling him into you with a smile. 

The cheers and applause from your loved ones surround you, but in this moment, it feels like time has paused, and it's just the two of you, lost in your love.

As you break the kiss, you find that your cheeks ache from smiling. Simon brushes away the tear that lingers on your cheek, and you share a tender gaze that says more than words ever could.

“I love you,” you whisper in his ear, pressing onto your tiptoes. Simon pulls you closer to him, 

his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. “I love you, too,” he whispers back, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

The ceremony concludes with cheers and applause, and you and Simon walk hand in hand, now officially united. The garden, adorned with love and laughter, fills you with nothing but pure bliss. 

The reception is a whirlwind of joy and celebration, filled with toasts, dancing, and the laughter of family and friends. In the midst of it all, you steal moments with Simon, your happiness never once diminishing for the rest of the day. 

As the night arrives and the stars emerge in the sky, you find yourselves alone for a moment. The garden had now been decorated with lanterns and candles, filling the night sky with a gentle orange glow. Simon pulls you into an embrace, and under the moonlight, you both marvel at the beauty of the day. 

“This day was nothing but perfect, dove,” Simon drawls, rubbing his hand up and down your back soothingly.

“I know,” you sigh contentedly. “I’m so happy, Si. I can’t even begin to explain how happy I am.” 

Simon pulls you against him tighter, his warmth enveloping you like a protective shield.

“I'm happy too, darling,” Simon murmurs, his voice a melodic reassurance.

As you both sway gently under the lantern-lit sky, the world outside your embrace seems to fade away. The lanterns overhead cast a dreamy glow, and the night seems to hold its breath, savoring your love.

“I love you, Simon,” you whisper, your words a promise that lingers in the air.

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice a gentle echo.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[friendsoup]

aah you're fuelling my reverse 1999 addiction sm righ now!! if you're able to maybe some fluff with medicine pocket, dikke or blonney with a SO who got a new hair cut??

Haircuts!

Recipe: Medi is oblivious, but they try!, Hair touching, Awkward Dikke, Blonney being a rich girl, And a sugar mommy?, She just likes spoiling you WC: 703 Chef's Note: I hope you don't mind that this is super short! I just wanted to get this out, and I didn't want to write a full fic for 3 characters at a time! If you like these little bite sized fics, let me know! They're honestly way less stress for me, and I can get them out quicker!

Medicine Pocket

…It takes a moment for Medi to realize there’s something different about you, to be honest. They’re so wrapped up in their work, they don’t spare a second glance. They simply mutter a generic reply when you try to get their attention, too focused on what’s in front of them to care. After you clear your throat, they’ll look up. They’ll squint at you for a moment, realizing something’s off, but not knowing what. “Uhhh… new glasses?” Once they realize what’s going on, they’ll feel incredibly silly. Their face will heat up, and they’ll get very defensive about it. “How was I supposed to know?!” is thrown out, though they do feel bad for not noticing sooner. 

They’ll compliment it awkwardly. They aren’t one for fashion, nor any form of self care, but they do like how it looks on you. They just don’t know how to express it.

Once you two are alone, without Medi’s nose in their studies, Medi is ALL over your new hair. Touching it, playing with it, brushing it with their fingers. At one point, they start petting you like one would a dog, even giving the baby talk along with it. They’re so used to giving their canines affection, they’ve forgotten how to give humans normal affection. You can correct them if you’d like, and they’ll stop. But honestly? It feels nice.

Dikke

Dikke freezes when she first sees you. She stares at you from across the room, acclimating to your new look. For a moment, you’re worried that she may be mad at you. Did you offend her in some way? You don’t remember anything you could have done. When she approaches you, it’s with such determination that you’re worried you may meet the end of her sword. 

“You look… nice…” The words fight to escape her mouth, her whole face becoming flushed in response. She doesn’t dare look you in the eyes, her body rigid, her expression the same. If you weren’t used to Dikke’s antics, you might have thought that she was attempting to lie, but you knew her far better than that. “Thank you!” You respond, reaching for her hand. She jumps at the touch, but quickly accepts it, threading her fingers into yours. 

“Y-Your hair is… pretty…” She continues. Affection through words is not her strong suit. However, she still wants to compliment you, despite how embarrassed it makes her to do so. 

“I’m glad you like it, my knight.” You smile, caressing the back of her hand with your thumb.

Blonney

When you mentioned getting your hair cut, Blonney was over the moon. She brought you to her favorite place, and made sure to spare no expense on your new look. The hairdressers were high tier stuff, whatever you wanted for your hair? They were able to replicate. 

You walk into the waiting room to see her, feeling a bit nervous. However, the moment she sees you, her face lights up. She jumps out of her seat, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. Every compliment she can give is exclaimed loudly, as she spins you in her arms. It’s embarrassing, the entire waiting room’s eyes glued onto the two of you, but you’re so overcome with affection that you can ignore it.

Once Blonney releases you from her embrace, you can tell she’s only getting more excited. “Now we have to get a new outfit for you!” She says, grabbing your hand and dragging you off to the nearest mall.

Blonney has always loved dressing you up, but with the new haircut? It’s like a whole new beast was unleashed. She keeps in mind your preferred fashion style, making sure to get only things she knows you’ll like to wear. Her eye for fashion is incredibly good, and every outfit she picks makes you almost dizzy with confidence. 

At the end of the day, the two of you will be relaxing on the couch, and Blonney will be playing with your hair. She’ll tell you all the ways you can style it, and how she’d like to see you wear it. The two of you stay cuddled up there until you fall asleep.

[divine-donna]

Impressions

pairing: tashi duncan x bipoc! fem! reader

word count: 1.9k words

context: 2019. los angeles. tashi duncan is looking to cast the protagonist for her newest film. she finds the perfect actor for her protagonist.

no specific pronouns used. reader is able bodied and can speak. reader is about 25, while tashi is 31/32.

this is me dipping my toes into the ghostface au. based on this post. if people really like this, then i will continue to write more.

Tashi Duncan.

Actress. Director. Producer. Screenwriter. Sometimes cinematographer.

Her list of credits are long. A child actress who evolved beyond the children’s sitcoms that your younger sister was obsessed with. You remember seeing her so clearly, seeing her laugh, seeing her cry, seeing her amazing fashion sense. Tashi Duncan was beloved and an icon.

Furthermore, she knew her standing.

She talked about the hard things, the things that kept so many people out of the industry: stereotypes and typecasting, racism, sexism, queerphobia. Tashi Duncan was a phenomenon, but only outside of the context of her being. She was an abstract to the industry, in an attempt to make her more appealing to their “base” demographic.

Some of them kept you back, kept you out. You were hoping this would be the moment where things would change for you.

You were an adjunct at a community college. You taught the basic writing classes. Most of your students were freshmen. On the side, you auditioned, did the occasional improv show, and helped students and peers with their films. You loved the movies. You loved films. You loved acting. You loved it all. You were excited to be teaching a class on film the next semester. One of the units, you knew, you wanted it to be on auteurs. What film would you show? What would you assign your students?

Reading helped pass the time when you were waiting for your name to be called. An open call casting for a new horror film by Tashi Duncan. The perfect opportunity for you. You remember the description: Non-white woman or femme presenting person. Mid 20s to early 40s.

You found that reading the script over and over again could cost you an audition. You would overload your brain, causing it to short circuit. You’d forget lines, stumble over your own words, and your cheeks would burn with the sense of humiliation. So instead, you were reading your book, highlighting and making notes in the margins. How many people would strangle you for such a crime?

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

You snap the book closed.

The room smells sterile, like they had soaked it in bleach and Febreeze. You almost wanted to choke. You were expecting to see a casting director. But in the middle of the table, with her sunglasses resting atop of her head, was Tashi Duncan.

She wore a combination of silver and gold jewelry. You recognized her gold cross necklace. The button down dress showed off her legs, bringing your eyes to the wedges that matched the white and blue vertical stripes. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her brown eyes scan you. She saw right through you.

“Auteurs and Authorship.” Her voice commands the entire room. The door clicks shut behind you.

“I’m…sorry?” You’re so small in front of her.

“Barry Keith Grant. Your book.”

“Oh. Yes…”

“Interesting. An amateur move.” She folds her hands together on the table and leans forward.

“Could you…explain what you mean by that?”

“Makes yourself seem interested in the…intricacies, we’ll say, of film. Gives off the impression that you’re an academic. You’re a real film person.”

“Ummm…I do work in academia. I’m an adjunct. It’s what I do on the side.”

Tashi’s eyebrows rise. “Really now? Do you teach film, then?”

“Not right now. That’s the plan for the fall. I’m trying to plan the syllabus out.”

“And you want to talk about auteurs?”

“At some point.”

Tashi leans a little bit more forward in her seat. “Do you think I am an auteur?”

What a complicated question.

“Well…traditionally—”

“I don’t want the traditional answer. What I want to know is if you think I’m an auteur.”

Your mouth is dry. This had to be some sort of trick question. It had to be some trap. Piss off enough people and you’re done for good. Tashi Duncan was a phenomenon and if she wanted to, you could be erased. Hollywood did not provide the environment for solidarity. If one door opened, another door closed. If one movie was a sensation, then any movie that bore a resemblance (a resemblance that wasn’t even a resemblance) to said movie would just become that thing, reduced to that thing, ignored in all of its nuance and creativity and its passion. You lick your lips. “I think…it’s hard to tell.”

“And why is that?”

“Well you just started directing. You have three films and a couple of television episodes. Most of your credits are acting. And auteurship is thought more in terms of directing than acting. If you want to ask if you’re a star, then absolutely you are. But an auteur? I would wait some time. I don’t think three films and some television episodes is enough for an auteur study.” Your heart was pounding miles per hour. You were anxious, on the edge. “I’d want to see what else you’re doing. The landscape is always shifting and naturally, so is your auteurship.”

You can see the way her jaw unclenches. Or clenches? It was hard to tell. She detangles her fingers from one another and leans back into her seat. “If you need to use the script to read the lines—”

“I remember my lines.”

“Well look at you. Well prepared.” Tashi clears her throat. “The set is quiet. Everyone is on edge. She turns to camera 3 and speaks.”

Like a puppet, you speak.

“No, no.” You shake your head, reading the essay. You highlight a portion and then type up your comment on the Canvas page. You’re probably giving the student a heart attack right now, if they have the app on their phone. A constant stream of vibrations as the instructor leaves an annotation on their submission document. You drink your lemonade soda. Blueberry lavender lemonade soda. It was always your go to, along with a cranberry orange loaf slice. It was a small cafe by the college with cheap food and cheaper drinks. Very popular among the students.

“You work a lot, huh?”

You look up from your computer. You’re tempted to close it, but you don’t. You lean back in your seat. “I tried calling you. But you wouldn’t pick up.” Tashi sits down in the seat across from you. Her hand reaches out and she closes the laptop. She doesn’t want to look at your stickers.

“I keep my phone off during the work day. Gets things done easier.”

“You don’t listen to music while working? Or anything of the sort?”

“I do it through my laptop. They have a Spotify desktop app, you know.”

A smirk is curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that.”

“So, you came to tell me I didn’t get the part? Personally? It’s a lot better than a lot of other people.”

“I read your resume. Couple of extra roles. A role on SVU for three episodes.”

“Doesn’t everyone go through SVU?”

“You’re not wrong. And a couple of short films. One of them critically received. And yet, no credit. No invitation to the award shows.” Tashi shrugs. “Nothing. What’s up with that?”

“What do you think? You work with some white people and a nepo baby. And the nepo baby takes everything that was supposed to go to you. It’s like a more fucked up version of Lena Lamont and Kathy Selden except there’s no retribution and the nepo baby isn’t talented at all but apparently their film is good.”

“You’re a little film critic, huh?”

“If you want to be a good actor, a good filmmaker, generally good in the process, shouldn’t you be a film critic? Lot of the greats got started in film criticism. Lots of people start their career by criticizing and addressing discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Tashi folds her hands and places her chin atop of them.

“Well, this is kind of a basic example. But The Watermelon Woman. Cheryl Dunye notices this discrepancy in old silent films where Black actors were not credited. And if they were, sometimes they'd be credited by a stereotype like The Mammy or, in the case of the pseudo-documentary film, the Watermelon Woman. And in the film, she’s creating an alternate film history that addresses this erasure of Black actresses and particular sapphic, lesbian Black actresses. So what does Dunye do? Make a cornerstone of Black and lesbian cinema.” You shrug.

“And is it on your top four on Letterboxd?”

“It is, yeah. Do you have Letterboxd?”

“I do. It’s a great way to interact with the fans.”

“Like Sean Baker?”

“We follow each other.” She shrugs. “He likes my reviews every once in a while. I enjoy that he talks about his viewing experience for the movies he watches.”

You pick up the small plate and take a bite of your loaf. The sour cranberry cuts through the sweetness, giving you that perfect balance of tartness and sugar. “Well, if that’s all you want to talk about—”

“I’m giving you the part.”

“What?”

You stare at Tashi with disbelief. She pushes her sunglasses up to rest atop of her head. You just realize that she’s wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck. Her cross necklace glimmers in the sunlight. “Me…the part?”

“You gave the best performance. And everyone in Hollywood is a yes man. I don’t want a yes man. I want someone who’s going to engage with my material critically, who understands what I want to achieve. Who has a knowledge of film history.” Tashi pulls out the script from her purse and sets it atop your laptop. It’s quite hefty. “I want notes. I want revisions. Production doesn’t start until next month. So cancel teaching. Find someone to sub in. Maybe a grad student. You’ll be filming a movie instead.”

A movie with me, was what she was really saying.

And you’d be stupid to miss out on this opportunity.

“Yeah…yeah. Of course. Of course!” You were in utter disbelief.

“Tried to call you to tell you that. But you didn’t pick up.” Tashi stands up from her seat. “The movie’s…a bit out there. Little something I’ve been brewing for years. They want to promote it as the next Get Out and Us.” She rolls her eyes. She pulls out a small notebook and scribbles her phone number down, placing it on top of the script. “It’s anything but. Think about it in terms of…exaggerated autobiography mixed with real life tragedy and homages to Dario Argento and taking inspiration from Santa Sangre.”

You weren’t the only cinephile, it seems.

“Yeah,  yeah. That sounds really interesting.” You swallow your own saliva nervously. “I-I’ll come back with notes.”

“Great.” Tashi reaches out. She holds your chin between her fingers and her thumbs wipe away some crumbs on your lips. Your lips explode with heat, her touch leaving tingles. “You better not disappoint me.”

She pulls her hand away too soon.

“I’ll see you in two weeks. My house. I’ll text you the address.”

You watch her walk back to her car, an Astin Martin. She pulls her sunglasses down and gives you one last glance, as if trying to take you in your natural habitat. Was she studying you? Studying your natural self to get a sense of how she would direct you? She turns to face the road and pulls smoothly out of her parking spot.

And that was how you started working with Tashi Duncan.

[issacballsac]

“Attempting to be Friends with Vergil Sparda„

Honestly he’d never outright call you his friend💀 ! Gn Demon Reader

Origins | DMC3

Let’s be FR he wouldn’t care abt your gender or lack there of he still sees you as lesser than

You’d have to be a Devil or half Devil to even linger around him

Im seeing you just come from Hell to be friends with him🦀

Naturally like any of the devils in DMC3 u were originally gonna attack Vergil bc NPC does what NPC is supposed to do

But you have common sense a pretty mf with a sword is bad news so let’s be friends dear beautiful one

Bear with me right—all ur demon gang gets slaughtered by this mf and you’re just standing there watching fascinated absolutely entranced by this mf

Seeing as you’re the last obstacle he points that big ass katana at you

“Sorry I just can’t fight someone so beautiful man.”

Gives you the MEANEST side eye

Still tries to HARM you and succeeds—but like you regenerate 💀

Mf would let out the BIGGEST sigh and just walk away🪦

You follow ofc bc who wouldn’t (a mf who wants to live 💀)

Bonding

Me when might controls everything 🫦

Despite being a demon yourself you def would try to convince him to NOT open the portal

Bc lets be FR them other devils ain’t shit for nothin‼️

He constantly looks annoyed and has a mean case of resting bitch face

He’s very stand-offish and depending on how long/well you know each other he’ll listen to what you’re sayin

Especially if ur a person that likes to go on rants

DMC3 he’d be more open to a mf who has no attachments as seen during the scene where he stabbed Arkham

New to friendship and sees everything as a transaction

You give me this and I give you that typa thing

Would take FOREVER to tell you abt his childhood and by the time he does u pretty much already know bc of Dante

Would get along better if ur also half demon rather than full demon as he has a complex where he continuously tries to rid himself of his humanity

Bros on a MISSION so u gotta be able to keep up

Obviously being demon/half demon you got some power but if you’re weak he’s gonna drop you I’m sorry 💀(no I’m not)

Daily

Doesn’t celebrate his birthday

Just in general regardless of his childhood I just don’t think he’d like to

So no surprise parties please🫶

Now don’t get me wrong he IS smart but like also a dumbass💀

Constantly makes you think bc he’ll say smth so stupid but make it sound so smart

A very dramatic mf

Always makes dramatic entrances no matter where he goes

Walks into McDonalds with his blue coat flowing, snowlike hair, glistening eyes, arched eyebrows, and a judgmental look

Baby let ur hair down🫦

Bro is effortlessly breathtaking and if u ask for tips or question what he does for his routine he looks you up and down, scoffs, and leaves💀

I NEED MORE POWER

Spars with you bc luckily you can regenerate

Infinite punching bag

Love a reader with no shame(me acting like I didn’t write this)

Idk why but I feel like he can play the piano as just like a pastime thing

When trapped in Hell u just roam around y’know bc you’ve lived there for as long as you can remember 😭

Vergil is in a constant search for more power and ur just chillin watching him

Like those mfs who still calmly sip on their drinks when there is a bar fight

“Woohoo! Go Vergil you’re doin’ great!”

“Shut up!”

He loves you, I promise.

Talks shit abt Dante, lovingly ofc

After the events of DMC5 if he were to come back with Dante(ambiguous ending)

Y’all would prob live together

And they were roommates 😨

FR tho it’s like weird especially with Nero being recognized as his son

“Nero is my son?”

“You have a son?”

“I didn’t know..”

“How did you not know?”

Becomes more vocal during the friendship during/after the events of DMC5

He doesn’t see the need for an abundance of clothes so if ur into fashion your ideas fill 98% of his wardrobe

Honestly I think he can cook

More of a baker methinks

He probably wouldn’t like sweets but he’ll certainly make them himself

No I’m not going to make a berries delight joke.