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saturnsstufff · 4 years ago

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The Empress pt.VII

Ya like weddings?

Warnings: Hinting to sexual Innuendos.

“I don't mind them” you said, taking your seat in front of him per usual. “Why do you ask?” you questioned, your head tilting slightly. your eyes watching his kind ones.

“General Hawthorne is marrying her lover, since she is a friend of mine since our early childhood, she asked me to walk her down the isle in place of her deceased father” you smiled gently finding that action very sweet. “Since I was going with my family... I was curious if you would attend as my date perhaps?” pink dusted his cheeks, watching your eyes intently for your response. your cheeks flushed at the question.

“I-Id love too” you said, eyes slightly widened. You could feel your heart beating faster, subconsciously you started to fidget with your hands. He asked you as his date. Phil’s words laced through your mind slowly.

Techno's form visibly relaxed at your words. feeling a major weight lifted off his shoulders. He had herd from Phil that you were quite soft with the thought of him, as was Techno of you. after your nightly snowball fight, Techno couldn't get you out of his mind. That night he thought for hours on the sight of you under him, smiling ever so fondly up at him. It had his heart in complete knots. He could tell you trusted him completely. For how you always put your guard down around him, it made it easy for him to read you. He saw your lingering eyes at dinners and the casual times you would reach out for him, hug him or just make attempts at contact. He could hear how your voice was when he had to leave. You wanted him to stay. Techno would admit, although he wasn't one for many gatherings. the idea of seeing you in something more formal had him rather eager. He never had a taste for the court women, there poofy frilly dresses, all the extra jewelry they would drape on themselves. He never found attraction to it. Yet when his eyes linger to you, he couldn't wait to see how you presented yourself. Would you wear jewelry? He thought back to the golden earrings you had made a while ago. his eyes lingered to his desk drawer.

“I suppose if your going as my date, you should have the finest things. correct?” Techno's eyes glanced to you. You looked at him doe-eyed, he had to clear his throat and glance away. His cheeks going pinker at the sight of you.

“I-I... I mean, I’ll be ok with what I have Techno” You watched him. He pulled one of his drawers out and taken something out.

Techno sighed. “(y/n) I'm gonna be honest with you...” He said walking to stand in front of you. He offered you his hand, when you took it you could feel how clamy his hand was. He was nervous. He gently pulled you up so you were standing in front of him. although he towered you, you were not scared by his presence. You actually found him very comforting. He gently let go of your hand and showed you a little velvet box. You recognized this box easily. It’s what you put the earrings you made in. “Do you remember these?” He asked. You nodded in response. how could you forget after all. “What was the ingot, and gem’s I gave you, when you made these?” You paused briefly. thinking back on this.

“It was a gold ingot, and emerald's” You said looking up to him, your eyes never leaving his.

“It wasn't just any golden ingot” He said, his eyes now finding yours. “Do you remember when I raided that Mansion? the night we found Tommy?” You nodded. again, how could you forget something that was important to you. Yes, you remembered it for Tommy, but it also was the day Techno said the two of you were friends. “That night I left with a totem of undying. That totem will guarantee that the person holding it will not die.” He pressed his lips. collecting his thoughts. “I..I-I don't let people very close to me... But you, Your just different. I-I, I cant put my finger on why. But you are, and when I say I will protect you. I promise, I will protect you.” His cheeks were a light red now. He was stumbling over his words as he opened the box to show the earrings you made. “I understand that at times, I wont be at your side. But I made a promise to your father, that at no point would I ley harm befall you” You gently rested your hand on his to reassure him. He was nervous, you knew he had no reason to. But that didn't stop him from stumbling over himself. “What I'm tryin’ to say is. Please... Please wear these for me...”

You knew Techno well enough to know that this was his way of saying he cared for you. He was asking you to wear something that would prevent your life from ending. You gave him a kind smile, almost a loving one. “Anything to make you happy” You said softly. His eyes softened by ten-fold. Oh you definitely had his heart in your hand. “could you put them in for me?” You asked, looking up at him. He gave you a slow nod. gently removing your studs, he placed them on his desk as to not loose them to the floor. You felt him put your new emerald earrings in. The Gold of them made with totem of undying. The earrings you now wore, were the same style ones that Techno and Phil wore together. The three of you now having matching earrings.

Techno’s eyes lingered as he put the earrings in. You were so warm to the touch, your skin ever so soft. when you looked up to him with innocence. He couldn't help but think of other things...

later that night you were sitting on your bed thinking. You had forgotten to ask Techno about himself. Far to lost with the moment he gave you, your new favorite earrings. You glanced to your clock. It was late. Your mind drifted back to Techno. You couldn't stop yourself, you wanted to see him again and talk to him more.

“maybe... just a quick visit...” you said to yourself as you got up, slowly waling out of your room. Heading for Technoblade’s room. You had never been to his room, of course you’ve passed it. But you’ve never had a reason to enter, until now. You knocked gently on the large door. waiting for a ‘Enter’ or some signal to go in.

When the door opened it was your turn to go speechless, and red with blush. Techno stood there lazily, his hair was completely down and brushed out of every braid he normally wore. He had no crown, and no shirt. You couldn't help how your eyes fell, I mean you already were chest level with him, but this did not help. He did go pink at your longing stare, choosing to tease you about it for more amusement. “You know my eye’s are up here Princess...” You drew in a breath and quickly spewed out apologies. only earning a fond chuckle from him. “I'm only kiddin’” He leaned on the door way well giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your blush never leaving. “what brings you to my room? Don't tell me your still tryna’ sleep with me now” You gave him a shy smile before starting.

“I uhm.. wanted to actually ask you a bit about yourself... I meant to earlier, but we were side tracked with the earrings.” You explained. He hummed and stepped aside for you. You gave him a quizzical look not understanding why he moved.

“I'm not going to talk to you at my doorway, Princess” You realized he wanted you to come inside. you slowly entered, having not expected this turn of advents. Well you looked around you realized he actually had a nice room. It was a decent size room. In the middle was a rather large, four-poster bed, the covers were pulled back a bit signaling he probably had just gotten out of bed to get the door. There was a fireplace across from his bed with two sofa’s placed in front of it. He had two doors made of glass that led to a rather large balcony beside his bed. Where the room looked natural, there were books lingering, and set aside everywhere, he had bookshelves against the wall. Somehow it fit for him. On one wall there were two doors. one probably being a bathroom and the other for a closet. His room was actually pretty cold contrasting to the way it looked. You assumed it was like this because his body temperature was hotter like Phil said. “Would you like to sit at the sofa or the bed?” his eyes lingered yours.

Glancing between the two you really didn't mind, your rubbed your arms from the chill of the room well you thought. Techno had noticed this and walked towards his bed, pulling the covers back more. “Here... clime in over here. If your cold now, your just going to get colder.” you looked to him and went pink. You chewed your lip a bit thinking, ultimately deciding it wouldn't hurt to sit beside him.

You walked over and climbed up onto his bed. it was so soft, you relaxed down and pulled the covers over your legs, praying for the heaviness of the blankets to rush forth their warmth. Techno climbed in next to you and got comfortable again. As he shifted he figured he would ask. “So what was it you wanted to ask me?” he moved his head to face yours.

You both were laying on your backs, loosely facing each other. “Well... I guess id just like to know more. You know about my childhood and stuff... I was curious if I could know about yours maybe” He pondered a bit, thinking about your words.

“I suppose that’s fair. It’s a bit lengthy though, princess” you shifted your body and faced him, showing he had your full attention.

“I don't mind. Your interesting, anything you tell me will be worth it” He smiled softly at you.

“is that so...” he mused. You nodded and he lightly chuckled, running a hand over his face well he thought. Your eyes lingered down his jaw to his neck. Without his usual pendants it looked bare, he had a prominent collar bone. His shoulder muscles also were very prominent. All in all Techno had a side profile of a god.

After Techno thought of were to start, he slowly began. “When I was about one or two Phil had found me in the Nether. I guess he was just making a supply run for some potions and I was just left behind. He couldn't leave me there so he took me home with him... That's when I met my Mother. She was a very kind and loving person... She always cared more about others than herself. She Taught me how to read, write, she basically taught me everything she could..” His eyes went a little sad. you watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed thickly. “She didn't care that I was a hybrid, she was always protective of me... If someone from the court made a comment on me not being a prince she wouldn't hesitate to stand up for my name. Of course Phil would stand up for me too, but mother was the most protective of her boys.” He took a deep breath pondering again. “when I was five Mother had Wilbur, it was a weird adjustment to being a older brother, but I didn't care, I took Wil with me wherever I could. He could be a massive pain, but he’s still my brother” You gave him a sweet smile, finding it cute of how he talked about his brother. “When Wilbur was Four, I was Nine.” he gave a slight pained laugh. suppressing his emotion. “It was right after my birthday... Mother and Dadza had sat down for a dinner. In the middle of it she started to choke. We knew there was a spy among us, after all we were in a rough spot with one other country." He let out a sharp breath "But those bastards targeted her." You gently rested your hand on his arm for reassurance, your smile having fallen. Gently rubbing your thumb over his arm. You didn't realize how strong he was until you felt his muscles under your hand. Slowly he continued on. "I had always herd voices.. they linger and get louder when they ban together... sometimes they request things... Other times just they talk among themselves...” Your brow furrowed as his tone lowered and slowed. His head turned to you, almost checking to make sure he didn't scare you with that information. He was tense, but as soon as he met your eyes he relaxed slowly. “When Dadza and I realized why she was choking... We found out my voices had a very keen ideal for violence... Her funeral was hard... The whole palace adored her completely... Not to mention Wilbur took it the hardest... It does still bother me on some days... But after a while I just came to terms she wouldn't come back." Your slowly rubbed your thumb over his arm again. Gently giving a squeeze to show some reassurance. He gave a soft slight smile. Resting his hand on yours. " When I turned Fifteen Dadza had stepped down from the throne and gave it to me. He said it was time to make a name for myself. About that time Sarah Joined the army. That's when we started turning our small kingdom into a expanding Empire. We had the same ideals and goals so we knew with each others support we could do it” you watched him. Unlike Wilbur who wasn't over his mothers death, Techno, like he said was over his stage of grief. He mourned, but knew nothing would bring her back. So it was best not to live in the past.

You adjusted your head on the pillows to see him better. "You said Sarah was a childhood friend?" He hummed, his hand still rested on yours. Offering warmth to your rather cold ones.

"I know I met her when my mother was alive. Sarah's mom was my mothers personal Knight, and best friend. Sarah's father was part of our court too, so she was always around one way or another." Techno subconsciously shifted closer to you. Your hand still beneath his. "The court tried to set us up, but Sarah made it clear that she was strictly devoted to her work. Well, she was. Couple months months ago she proposed to the jeweler's Daughter. So as of lately she's been trying to sort things out for the wedding." You smiled softly. Happy that she had someone to confide her love in. "Sarah's a good General... She has her blood thirsty tendencies, but she's a good woman. She just wants, what's best for the Empire and for the Royal family." He let your hand go and slowly turned to face you, now resting on his side. His eyes lingered yours and then slowly dropped down to your lips, and neck. He took your hand in his and and held it gently. Liking the feeling of your gentle hand in his.

Your hand wasn't soft, it was calloused with the hard work you put into your trade. Although Calloused they were ever so gentle. When Techno held your hand he could only marvel at how tiny it was.

Recently techno had started thinking. Especially after the snowball fight. You laced his mind before, but now it was becoming a awfully noticeable. You were actually the other reason Seraphina was in Techno's office. Techno had a feeling that what he felt for you, went beyond a casual friendship. But, he's had no prior relationships to base this off of so he needed a outside opinion.

He found himself pondering you quite often, whether late at night, when he was in his office. Ect. He had even talked to Phil about it. Sarah poked fun that Techno finally had fallen for someone, specifically you. Unlike Sarah, Phil was casual when talking to Techno. Asking if you made him happy, if your happiness was important to him. Techno knew he wanted someone strong, kind, and gentle. But also someone who could make a elegant, but confident Empress. When he thought of you, he knew you were everything he wanted. You were kind, gentle, hardworking, smart, and your confidence was growing daily. Phil had mentioned that he knew he had met the right person, when he couldn't see her with anyone else but him. When Techno tried to imagine you with a different man, he could feel his stomach twist into the beginning of jealously.

Well he pondered this, it hit him. Almost full force.

He wanted you.

After the talk of Techno's childhood, and Sarah's wedding. You two sat in a soft silence, having no urge to talk and disrupt it. The walls had the light of the fire dancing in front of you two. the light dancing over techno’s and your face. Your eyes flickered between each other, almost waiting for someone to make a move. Occasionally techno would glance to your lips or neck again. But you would also catch him looking at your earring. He was always hard to read, so you just sat admiring him. Wishing to wrap your arms around him in another hug.

Soon his hand let yours go. You gave him a slight confused expression, having loved the feeling of his hand on yours. you went to protest but you were cut off.

Techno cupped your cheek gently. Moving closer to press his lips to yours in a ever so sweet kiss. It wasn't forced, he allowed room incase you wished to pull back from him. But thankfully you didn't. You rested your hand on his and kissed him back with everything you had.

The kiss was worth a million words. Unspoken words. Techno had a hard time explaining his feelings. But his actions always shown where he stood with people, and where he wanted to stand with you, was right at your side.

He did slowly part from you, his eyes lingering yours for any sign of disproval or hesitation. But he saw none. You were looking up at him doe-eyed, he couldn't help but want to stare at how pleading you looked.

"May I.. k...kiss you again?..." He asked softly. You nodded, your cheeks far past pink and going to a hot red. You could only utter out a quiet 'please'.

He didn't hesitate to give you what you wished for. His lips were back on yours. To make it easier he sat up on his elbow a bit and wrapped his arm around your waist. Pulling you tightly against him, well his lips never left yours. He could feel your arm snake around his neck, the other one resting on his chest. your body was beckoning him closer. His hand held firm on your back, keeping you pressed to him. He didn't want to let you go, now that he had you. now that you were in his bed. He wanted nothing more than to keep you close and protected.

The kiss, although loving and soft, was deep and passionate. Something that you and Techno had wanted from each other, and now that it was a arm's length away, you were not going to let it go.

Techno had wanted this moment longer than he realized. The feeling of your soft lips on his was addicting, he didn't want to stop. Without much thought he gently moved his hand down to your thigh, pulling it closer so your legs intertwined with his. Only roughly a hour ago he was joking about you sleeping with him. But if you continued your grip on his shoulder he sworn he may have just went through with it. Techno couldn't deny it any longer.

He was in love.

@goldensunshineshit @snobunns @olyink @lolitsellieletsgobro @jackalopedoodles @angelic-scent @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @artsimatsu @justabalroginthenet @seme1e @fangirl570 @sweeetteaa @awlawdtheycoming @idkwhatusernametohave @sugarandspicebutnonice @bambibunz @lynnarts @buzzybeebee @feathersthewinged @prefesro @astroninaaa

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #TE

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partybees · 4 years ago

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pulchritudinous | midori takamine x gender neautral! reader

because this boy deserves so much appreciation 😩

to put it simply, you are quite the extravagant photographer. always making sure every project of yours turns out to be a masterpiece and giving your fans a spectacular delivery. from posters, to photo cards. from being hired to take pictures of a baby shower or wedding, you can do it all. hence, you take your job very seriously. pleasing your clients is a wonderful feeling but so is being proud of yourself.

“what will it be this time, i wonder?” you ponder to your photography assistant. the younger girl walking ahead of you, hastily going through the documents of your next project. “it’ll be an idol group that calls themselves ryuseitai. a bunch of heroes they claim to be.” she responded. you clapped your hands. a rush wave of giddiness filled you up. “that’s right! that’s right!”

as a fan of idols, (ryuseitai especially) you are delighted to the point where there are stars in your eyes. in fact, you’re charmed by midori takamine out of the bunch. his effort into being an idol catches your eyes. that goes without saying, his pure embarrassment that television catches every once in a while is endearing to you.

“i’ll be checking up on them now. bring over their presents!”

“yes, of course!” thus, your assistance jogged off. you hummed contentedly as you made your way to the dressing room. ID hanging from your neck and work outfit bringing out your most beautiful features.

“i’m here!” you sang as you knocked on the dressing room in your favorite ryuseitai song rhythm. you heard a familiar shriek in the room and that made you enter nonchalantly. perhaps it was the impulse you felt because the shriek had came from your favorite hero.

the dressing room had no one but midori. he seemed a bit frightened, sitting alone in one of the chairs and in front of the large enormous vanity.

“ah! midori takamine!...it’s just you right now?”

“uh ....y-yeah, the others said they wanted to check out the cafeteria of this agency.” he replied. “you must be y/n l/n...i heard so much about you.”

you paused. he had already been dressed up. face with light makeup, ivory clothes complimented him and his precious eyes if somebody were to ask you. oh, he looks even handsomer in person. “uhm.” you gulp. nobody knew why, but you would always like those that aren’t...so eccentric like you. some even kept on telling you that you should be with people of your own kind, whatever that meant.

“...l-l/n?!...what’s wrong..?!” midori kept backing away his upper body as you had gradually leaned in closer and closer to take in his breathtaking features. “my, oh my. you are....” you whispered before standing back up straight and smiling elatedly. “so beautiful! i can’t wake to work with you!”

“huh?...thank you very much?” midori couldn’t respond any other way. to be complimented by a well-known photographer, how exactly is he supposed to react? apart from the rising blush he has on his face, midori could only muster a small smile.

“excuse me. y/n, are you in here?” your assistant’s voice made you perk up all excitedly. “yes! come in, come in!” you opened the door only for her but for the other two staff members following behind her. midori’s eyebrows rose. they’re totally acting like they own this place or something: he thought. he hummed upon seeing five gift boxes being placed on a nearby table.

“i’m sure you already heard of this from the rumors but, my boss has a habit of giving gifts for their clients.” your assistant explained plainly. she smiled reassuringly at midori, who seemed a bit confused. “they have done research on you the most, takamine.” her words made him feel flattered. he had thought that y/n would be more interested in his boisterous leader, or the true oddball of the bunch, kanata but instead, you’re telling him he catches your eye the most? impossible.

“okayyy. out you go. thank you for the help! appreciate it lots!” you passive aggressively told your assistant and the staff members, lightly shooing them off. all things considered, it’d be so embarrassing for midori to figure out the fact you’re intrigued in him. your assistant chuckled. “alright. we’re going. this way, you two.” she led the staff members down the hallway. you close the door hastily.

“okay, why don’t you try opening your gift? i’d love to see your reaction.” you suggest. since he is the only one here, you’d like to take advantage of the situation. the more you can know about midori, after all. “you didn’t have buy us gifts.” he scratched his cheek sheepishly. his breath hitched when you slammed your hands on the table that held the presents.

“nonsense. this is my way of showing my adoration for you boys. you see, i’m a huge fan of ryuseitai just like my little cousin. he was actually the one who introduced me to your music one late night.” you shortly elucidated. proudly, in fact. midori didn’t feel like he was cut out to deal with this type of person. “re-really? i didn’t see that coming but thank-” “of course! now, open up! here, this one is yours.” you slid the fern box to him. he sighed, a little annoyed that you cut him off before he could thank you.

although, when he opened the box. his eyes lit up and his mouth opened into a large grin. “oh wow!” he picked up the plushie of what seemed to be a hybrid between a cat, dog or maybe a raccoon. whatever it was, he already has an attachment to it. he lifted it up into the air to admire the gamboge zigzag patterns and the magenta fabric. it’s cute doe eyes and rosy cheeks are adorable features to it, he didn’t think he has seen anything like this before.

“thank you so much! i’ll treasure this!”

y/n couldn’t see his smile too well. the doll was in the way. ��do you like it?” they asked patiently.

“like it? no, no, no!” midori shook his head fervently. “i love it! it’s a pleasure to be working with you, y/n!” he smiled. this smile was more jovial than the others. it felt like your brain stopped working by now.

...

“...right! yes!” you checked your watch, cheeks dusted in a taffy shade. midori is too giddy to have notice as you step back to the door of the dressing room. “well, i- i hope the others love their gifts just as much as you do!” you giggle. midori looked your way with a small frown, holding his new adorable possession close to him. “what? leaving already?”

it was like an arrow of warmth shoot right through your heart when he said that. you giggle nervously once more. “yep, i have to check on the equipment and get my camera ready so excuse me. bye bye, midori!” thats when you ran out the room and shut the door close. midori smiled shyly and looked down at his plushie. perhaps meeting you like this wasn’t so bad as the rumors interpret you to be. in fact, he would like to run into you like this in the future of destiny wants. you started to look cute in his eyes right about now.

#ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars #ensemble stars imagines #midori takamine #enstars

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anotherimaginethatblog · 4 years ago

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Family Gatherings

Meet the parents.

Pairing: Kenny x reader

Warnings: small mention of something cheeky ... maybe more in part 2

Summary: you finally make the trip to meet Kenny’s family.

so i finally found the time to sit and write a little and this ended up being a lil longer than expected bit ive enjoyed writing this one, probably be a part two (possibly 3) so let me know what you think x

hope you like it

You were nervous, you had been since the day Kenny booked your airline ticket to Winnipeg so you could finally meet his family. You had heard all the stories about them, and they sounded lovely, but you were still, naturally nervous. Constant thoughts had flown through your head since the day you packed, what if they didn’t like you? Didn’t approve of you? you took another sip of your drink hoping the soothing flavour would relax you.

An hour later the pilot informed the plane full of weary passengers that the flight would be making its late arrival at the airport shortly, you began to gather your things up and pack them back into your designer backpack Kenny had bought you as a gift but couldn’t help thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing it, what if they thought you were showing off? Too gaudy? “breathe” you told yourself “it’ll be fine, they’ll love you” you said trying to boost your self-confidence.

“sorry mam, but would you mind stowing your bag? Were going to land soon that’s all” asked the kind stewardess who had given you that extra miniature off the drinks trolly earlier, probably due to the anxiety she saw on your face after striking up a conversation about why you’d be visiting Winnipeg in November.

“sure, sorry” you smiled back.

Finally, After the stress of the queue at passport control, your bag coming off the plane last and trying to find your way out of the baggage hall altogether you were here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag to see a text from Kenny already, “waiting in the arrivals hall, ring me when your out” it read. You dialled his number and he picked up immediately, so quick he must have been waiting for you thought. “finally, you here yet?” he laughed.

“yeah, just got through, been a nightmare” you replied, “where you at?” you asked him.

“just at the coffee shop with my dad, well wait here for you. You’ll see it if you walk to the end”.

“okay babes see you in a sec” you replied before hanging up, instantly feeling nervous. His dad. You were going to meet his dad for the first time in an airport after hours of travel. Fantastic.

You saw Kenny straight away, those two-tone curls where recognisable anywhere. He looked relaxed and rested whilst he sat chatting to his dad unbeknown to you about how nervous he was for you to see his home and family. “what if she thinks I’m a huge loser once she’s seen I’m just a weird kid from Canada?” he asked his dad. His anxiety spiking in anticipation.

“she won’t, she sounds a great girl and clearly likes you so stop worrying.” His dad replied smiling at his son.

So deep in conversation they hadn’t seen you approach, “hey ken” you said, smiling from ear to ear at finally being reunited.

“babe, you look amazing, I missed you so much” said Kenny, words spilling out with a huge smile in his face as he looked you up and down, clearly appreciating the effort you had made. “this is my dad, (y/n)” he said stepping to the side to introduce the older gentleman who looked very much like his son.

“hi, I’m (y/n), I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you Kenny always talks about you” you replied any nerves melting away at how normal and nice he seemed, internally laughing at why you were so nervous in the first place.

“nice to meet you too, we’ve heard everything about you I’m so glad you managed to make it out. Big freeze on the way” he said. “let’s get home, before it’s too dark and your mother kills us for being late.” He laughed.

Kenny grabbed your bags and you both followed to the car as soon as you left the terminal you regretted your choice of coat. The leather jacket though warm was not enough to keep your heat against the cold Canadian weather “I told you to get a good coat (y/n)” said Kenny shaking his head at you.

“okay, I just thought you where exaggerating” you replied shivering.

“your so cute, its not far to walk” he said.

After realising Kenny’s definition of short walk was not the same as yours you reached the car and were incredibly grateful when his dad opened it for you so you could jump straight in. “thankyou” you told him while he cranked the heat up for you.

“no problem, its not a far drive either so well have you home and warm in a little while” he told you smiling at your lack of appreciation for the Canada winters.

After a 40-minute drive you were at Kenny’s childhood home, it was just what you had imagined after hearing all of the stories from him about living in the suburbs as a kid. It was your classic suburban home with a lawn out front and a porch to sit on. It was actually really cute, you where excited to see inside. Kenny’s dad got out and left you two to make your way in, all of a sudden you where back to the nervous girl on the plane with the millions of questions about whether you where enough flooding your brain. All of a sudden Kenny planted his lips on yours and you snapped out of whatever you where thinking of immediately “they’re gonna love you, because I love you” he said. It was like he could read your mind and you kissed him back, you’d missed him so much in the time you’d been apart and if it wasn’t for being in his dads car outside his parents house you’d have climbed over and had him right there in the car. The moment was perfect for it … but the location was severely lacking. “we better get in the house before my mom sends my dad back out to get us” he smirked pulling away, clearly thinking the same thoughts you had been a few minutes prior.

“okay” you smiled back “lets go”.

Once inside the house you felt relaxed all of a sudden, it felt like a home and all the stress you had had about the visit faded away. You took your coat and shoes off and followed Kenny into the kitchen where a beautiful blonde lady stood at the counter. “Tyson, and this must be (y/n). your so pretty” she said patting her son on the shoulder in an approving manor.

“thanks mom, I’m glas you two finally get to spend some time together. It’ll be nice to have the family all under one roof again.” He replied, with his mum giving you the once over.

“I’m so glad you’ve finally brought us a girl home, I thought you’d never setlle down to be honest” she said teasing her only son.

“mom” he said laughing back “I’m gonna take our stuff up, my room yeah?” he asked

“mhmm, and (y/n) across the hall” she said trying to gauge her sons reaction.

“your joking, I’m a grown man mom” said Kenny laughing trying to cover for the fact he’d been wanting to get you into bed since he’d seen you in the airport in those skin tight pants he loved so much.

“Its fine” you interjected not wanting to upset Kenny’s mum and to stop a fight over a room before you’d even settled in. “its fine, I totally respect that. We respect that don’t we ken” you said looking at him with pleading eyes to drop it.

“fine, its fine” he said turning to walk upstairs leaving His mum feeling guilty, though she would never admit it. Honestly she had no problem with the two of you sharing a room but who wants to hear the inevitable through thin walls on the first weekend of meeting your sons possible future wife.

“thankyou” she mouthed quietly to you smiling at how gracious and kind you had been at trying to avoid an awkward situation on your first meeting. You smiled back and followed Kenny upstairs to your room for the next few days. It was a gorgeous guest room, you dropped your bags off and crossed the hall to see Kenny in his childhood room. It was painted blue and like you expected there where wrestling and hockey pictures and posters all over the walls. “cute,” you said smiling at him

“its changed a little but not much” he said smiling back “my mom painted but put all my pictures back up” he laughed.

“that’s sweet, she probably wanted it to be the same for when you got back” you said.

“not that I ever got the chance much” Kenny sadly replied.

“she understood why though” you mentioned reassuringly with your arm on his back.

“you know, I never thought id get a hot girl in my room” he said laughing

“you still wont” you said getting up to go downstairs “come on lets go hang out” you laughed Kenny following reluctantly.

you spent the rest of the evening chilling out in the kitchen, drinking wine with his mum while him and his dad watched sports on tv. “I’m glad I got to meet you” his mum said to you smiling

“me too, I’m so glad to finally meet everyone and happy for Kenny to spend some family time at home, he’s always on the road I’ve told him he needs to make more of an effort” his mum appreciating your words.

“yeah but he’s busy doing what he loves, I would never tear him away from that” she said laughing at him and his dad.

A few hours later it was time to head to bed, his mum and dad had called it a night a few hours earlier but you and Kenny had stayed up to chill and watch a little tv together. “I’m heading up babe” you said pecking him on the cheek

“okay babe me too then” he said getting up to turn everything off before following you upstairs

You waited for him at the top of the stairs, pulling him into a hug “guess ill see you in the morning” you teased

“unless you wanna sneak over in a little bit” he teased

“Kenny … no, I don’t want to disrespect your mom” you said back shrugging.

“okay okay, can I at least get a hand job in the bathroom” he laughed

“goodnight Kenny” you said turning to walk away.

After completing your evening routine you settled down for the night, it was hard to drift off knowing your man was just over the hall, who you had been dying to touch since before the last time you had said goodbye all those weeks ago. Eventually your eyes began to feel heavy and just as you where settling in for the night your phone began to buzz, straight away you knew who it was. – im lonely- it read, you rolled your eyes, it was gonna be along night.

#kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #kenny omega x reader #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction

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fxkthatdairy · 5 years ago

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The Principal’s Office: Part Two ~Grayson Dolan

Overview: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was the new 5th grade history teacher at The Dolan’s Private academy in New Jersey. She moved from across the country to teach at the school. On the first day, an unexpected visitor stops by her classroom to check in on her. What happened when they fall head over heels for each other? Check out to see.

Warnings: None in this chapter

(Y/N)’s alarm began to ring at 5:30 in the morning. She rolled out of her bed and turned her alarm off. She stretched out before walking into her bathroom. Today was her first day teaching and she was excited and nervous at the same time. This was her first job as a teacher and she didn’t know how the kids would like her. Then she realized that Grayson would be there and her heart started racing. She snapped herself out of it realizing he would never be with her. Reason one was the fact that he was technically her boss and reason number two was the fact rarely did the hot guys fall for the history nerd who’s never even had a boyfriend before. She sighed and stripped from her pajamas and stepped in the shower. She took a quick shower and got out and dried off. She did her normal morning routine, curled her hair and slipped into her first day outfit which was a pair of dark green jeans with a white button down and gray sweater on top of that, a pair of nude flats and her purse(visual below).

She grabbed everything that she was going to need including all of her lesson plans for the week, her laptop, her phone cord, her good pens that she specifically bought for grading, and a few little decors to make her room unique. She moved all her stuff to her car and began heading to work. The school was about 20 minutes away from her house and she used those 20 minutes to mentally prepare herself for this day. When she arrived at the school she parked in the teachers parking lot and grabbed all of her things and made sure to throw her lanyard with her ID on it so that she was able to get into the school. She scanned her badge and quickly looked to see what hall she was on and what her room number was: 319. She walked down the long hallway until she reached the 300 hall and walked down in finding room 319. She room was larger than the rooms that she remembered from her fifth grade classes but then again she attended a public school. The room had rows of desks, a large white board, a projector screen, plenty of closet space, a beautiful white desk with a fairly comfortable leather chair, and a huge computer monitor. She placed her bag down beside her desk. It was now around 7:15 and she had an hour and 15 minutes until school started. She began pulling out the stuff she had brought to decorate her classroom and desk. She placed her pictures in her desk that included the pictures from her graduation, her family pictures, a picture of her and her mom, and many of her at historic sites. She plugged in her essential oil machine and put in a slight bit of peppermint oil in. She began hanging her history posters and maps from every topic in the semester and wrote her name on the white board in cursive. She also set up the calendar that she had bought and arranged the desks how she liked them.

“You’re here fairly early. I thought I was the only one here this early.” A voice said from the door way. That voice belonged to the one and only Grayson Dolan; the principal of the school.

“Yeah, I wanted to make some personal touches and make sure I was prepared for the day. I hope you don’t mind.” She said as she noticed he was looking around.

“These photos are beautiful. You seem very passionate about History and your family. I find that very admirable Ms (Y/L/N).” He said. Her heart fluttered almost out of her chest.

“Thank you sir. My mom has always been there for me. History has been apart of my life since as long as I can remember.” She said and made sure everything was in order before she walked back over to her desk.

“Well I’ll swing by later to check on you and see how you are doing. Maybe I can bring you lunch around lunch time. Have a fantastic day (Y/N).” He said and with that he was gone. The one thing (Y/N) didn’t know was that Grayson Dolan was absolutely in love with her. He felt a connection with her that he’s never felt before.

It was now 8:15 and she had 15 minutes until her first class of the day would arrive. She sat down in her leather chair and turned the projector on and pulled up her welcoming PowerPoint that she spent a good three hours making. Her plan for today was to introduce herself to the class and get to know some of her students. She then went and stood in front of her door to welcome the children into the classroom. The school bell rang indicating that school had begun and she had five minutes before all her kids needed to be in her classroom. As all of her students filled her room she welcomed them with a warm smile and handshake. The tardy bell rang and she shut her door making sure that it locked in compliance of school rules.

“Good Morning and welcome back to school. I hope each and every one of you had a fantastic weekend and let me be the first to welcome you to fifth grade History. My name is Ms. (Y/L/N) and I’m so ready for this year with you guys. Now it’s time for role.” (Y/N) spoke and everyone was present so she sent in attendance and then grabbed the remote to change the slides as she stood to introduce herself to the class.

“So I thought instead of giving you guys work on the first day, that we would take this time to get to know each other starting with myself. If you can not tell, this is my first year here and by my accent you can tell I am not from around here. I actually moved here from Oklahoma and this is my first year teaching actually. I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma with my mom and sister and brother, I’m 25 years old and I went to school at Oklahoma University on a full scholarship ride. I’ve been to almost every historical monument in the United States and have met several past presidents. I also am a very hands on teacher and I’ll try and start bringing some historical artifacts that I’ve collected over the years next week but it depends on if I can get them out of my moving boxes. Now does anyone want to share anything about themselves.” (Y/N) spoke. About 10 kids hands shot up. She called on the first kid she saw. He was sitting in the front row and looked like an athletic kid.

“My name is Thomas and I played football and baseball all summer and I made the All Regional Leauge in town. Also why history?” He asked.

“Well I was never good at math so I knew that would not be an option. I liked English but I didn’t want to grade a lot of essays. The only science I ever really got into was medical science and I’m terrified of blood and needles so I fell in love with history. Plus everything has history, your family, your town, even your pets have history. History is all around us and it shapes the world today.” She said and a few more kids shared their stories and soon there was only five minutes left of class. She grabbed the packet of information to send home to their parents about the class and passed them out.

“Please get these signed and returned between tomorrow and Friday. Have a fantastic rest of the day and I can’t wait to see you guys tomorrow.” She said as the bell rang. The next three classes went that way and now it was time for lunch. She sat down at her desk and rubbed her sore feet from standing. There was a knock on her door and then the door opened revealing Grayson.

“I brought lunch. I hope you don’t mind. I brought some chicken salads.” He said with a smile as he handed her a salad.

“Thank you so much.” She said with a smile on her face.

“So how’s your first day been so far?” He said as he pulled up a chair to your desk so that he can eat.

“It’s been wonderful. The students have been so respectful and amazing. This job means a lot to me and it’s perfect. I’ve had no problems at all today except the pain in my feet from standing but I can get over that soon.” She said with a laugh.

Grayson laughed as well with one of his gorgeous smiles, “Well that’s good. I’m glad you’re enjoying this. Sometimes the students are a little too much to handle when you get into the higher grades especially. Apparently I’m almost every 8th grade girls crush and it’s honestly kind of creepy some days. I’m 30 for Christ sakes.” He said with a laugh.

(Y/N) laughed remembering her awkward phase in 8th grade when she thought she was going to marry Tom Cruise. “It’s just something they go through during that awkward transition in life. I went through it, my sister went through it, I’m pretty sure my mother went through it. That’s why I picked fifth grade, they have no clue or really no interests in relationships.”

“That’s true. Well lunch is almost over and I would love to get to know you more other than helping you move in. I would like to take you out to dinner this Saturday. I’ll give you time to think about it and no hard feelings if you say no. I’ll text you the details later. Have a great rest of the day (Y/N).” He said as he put his chair back where he got it and left the room. Her heart and mind were spinning. He has just asked her on a dinner date. Her BOSS just asked her on a dinner date. The man who stole her heart with a smile asked her on a dinner date. She couldn’t even fully function. She quickly shook out of it as the bell rang signaling the end of lunch. She finished off the rest of her classes before 4:30 came and she was finally able to go home. She grabbed all of her belongings and made sure everything was off before heading home. She stopped and grabbed her something to eat before heading back to her house due to the fact that she has no groceries at home. When she got home she processed long and hard about her current situation. She went to bed that night replaying every possible outcome in her head whether she said yes or no. As she was laying down her phone buzzed: One New message from Grayson Dolan.

Hey (Y/N), it’s Grayson. I would love to take you to Juliane’s Seafood and Steakhouse this Saturday night at 7:30 to get to know you more. I really hope you come, I really enjoy hearing your stories and you intrigue me. Once again no harsh feelings if you don’t want to go. It’s only if you feel comfortable. I hope you enjoyed the rest of your night. Anyways have a good night and see you tomorrow 🙂

(Y/N) thought long and hard with her decision and finally responded....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was part two! Sorry for the cliffhanger but hey it builds suspense ☺️ I’m really enjoying how this story is turning out and I hope you guys are too 😊 part three will be out in the next few days.

Tags: @pineappledols @frickin-bats @graysavant

#grayson dolan imagines #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan fic #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins #ethan dolan #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan smut #au #fanfic #Grayson Dolan imagines #Grayson Dolan

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awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands · 5 years ago

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School sucks, but you don’t (Slaxl Highschool AU)

A/N: Since I made my Slaxl highschool au moodboard ( photo above), I wanted to write a little highschool au for them, and it’s finally here ! It will be divided into 2 parts. Also a big thanks to @duffshairdye who edited this for me (ya know, ‘cause English is not my first language)

Slash just wanted to have his mental breakdown.

He just wanted to cry, let it all out and then buy some alcohol with his fake ID. He certainly didn’t expect to find another person in the bathroom. He chose this one specifically because it was broken and nobody would come here.

Well... He was wrong!

“What the hell are you doing here?” A boy asked, and Slash recognized him as Axl Rose, the school’s resident troublemaker and sex dream. Now, Slash knew more about his reputation than about Axl himself, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have quite a crush on him.

“I was about to cry my eyes out but apparently you’re already doing it.” He said, trying to hide his embarrassment. He never thought that a guy as tough as the redhead would break down in a shitty high school bathroom.

“W-what happened to you?” Axl asked, genuinely concerned. Wait, Axl was concerned about him?

“My teacher is an asshole and I don’t have anyone to go to prom with. Well, let’s say that nobody wants to go to prom with me.” The curly-haired boy replied, a bit sad. “So what happened to you?

“I think I’m going to fail this year. And… well, my stepfather won’t be happy about it!” he mumbled, like he was scared to be laughed at or insulted.

Slash immediately felt a wave of guilt crashing over him. Fuck, his problems seemed so small compared to the older boy’s.

“Oh shit, man! I’m so sorry, I must seem like a whiny bitch for complaining about such a small thing.”

“It’s okay, dude. That’s what this bathroom is for!” Axl said, a dry laughing escaping his mouth.

Saul looked at him and decided that he wanted to help this poor boy. Maybe it was his hidden scared expression, or his beautiful eyes or his silky hair, but Slash was already head over heels for him. Shit.

“Maybe I could help you. I’m not the brightest student, but I have decent grades.” The dark-haired boy proposed with a smile.

Axl looked at him, a bit confused, like he wasn’t used to human help, then a little smile crept on his face.

“You’d really do that? For me? Thanks, man!” Axl said, and then added, “How can I repay you?”

“There’s no need to.”

“Maybe I could go to prom with you! Like as a way to repay you.” The redhead suggested, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Yeah, I’d totally love to go to prom with you, beautiful angel! Slash thought.

“I-I mean, you d-don’t have to! But I’d really enjoy going with you.” Slash said, trying to sound as chill as possible. Axl’s smile was very visible now, and it was hard to believe that he was the most badass son of a bitch in the school.

“ Still, thanks dude! Uh... See you tomorrow at your place, then. If it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. See you tomorrow!”

The older boy gave him a pat on the shoulder, then he exited the bathroom.

Yep Slash, you’re totally fucked now!

The next morning the curly-haired boy had his head in the clouds, totally ignoring what his teacher or anyone else was saying. All his thoughts were diverging towards a certain redheaded boy that he was going to meet later in the day.

“You’re totally out of it today, aren’t you? What’s going on?” Slash’s best friend Duff asked, after trying to catch the other boy’s attention for the third time during the lesson.

“If I tell you that I’m just too interested in learning to not care about you, would you believe me?”

“Yeah, totally!” The tall boy replied sarcastically.

“Well… Axl Rose is coming to my house to study later,” he whispered, his tone a bit scared.

“Okay, but I don’t understand what this has to do with you being… OH SHIT! You totally have a crush on him!”

“Would you lower your voice, damn! I don’t want the whole school to hear.”

“Aww, little Slash is in love and embarrassed!” The blond taunted him.

“Fuck you, Duff!”

“So, how exactly did that happen? It’s not like you and the school’s resident criminal talk every day.”

“Um… Promise me you won’t tell this to anybody, okay? Swear it on your bass guitar!” Slash stated seriously.

“Okay, man, but you better hope that nothing happens to my baby or I’ll cut all your guitar’s strings!”

Slash simply told him everything, trying to not leave out any details, hoping that his friend would be able to tell if Axl was into him or not.

“I don’t know, man. It was an encounter that was too short to let you know anything. Try to drop some hints when you two are together. After all, he’s your date to prom so you have to get to know each other a bit.” Duff declared, and then the bell rang.

“I have gym now, see you later Giraffe!” The curly-haired man said playfully.

“Slash… Just be careful, Axl Rose can be a heartbreaker!” His best friend said, giving him a pat.

Oh believe me Duff, he has already broken mine and we still have to start.

----

The afternoon came way too soon, in Saul’s opinion, and now he was freaking out. Why was he freaking out? Wasn’t he the chilliest dude on Earth? Apparently his shy side take on. Or he was just hopelessly in love with Axl?

The bell suddenly rang and as he opened the door, he was faced with his favorite redhead: fuck, he looked so hot with his leather pants, band shirt, and his badass attitude. He gave the younger boy a charming smile as he entered his living room.

“So where are we going to study?” Axl asked, trying to seem interested. Slash was well aware that studying wasn’t his favorite activity.

“In my bedroom.” The curly-haired boy replied, chill.

“Well, usually bedrooms are for other activities! But since you’re my tutor, I guess I have to follow you,” Axl smirked.

Wait, was Axl trying to say something to him?

Slash tried to regain his composure and to not fucking blush right in front of him. He simply turned around and gestured for the other boy to follow him, leading him to his room.

“Wow dude, is that a Queen poster? I fucking love them!” Axl said, enthusiastic.

“I get that from your T-shirt, but I’m glad to have someone to talk about rock!” Saul said back, a little smile forming on his mouth. Axl seemed a bit taken off, but he smiled back.

“I think it’s time that we start to study, this is what I’ve come here for, right?” Axl stated, trying to not sound nervous. Axl Rose was nervous?

The younger man just nodded and had him sit on his bed.

Slash actually found out that Axl wasn’t “dumb” or that bad at studying. He just needed time and someone who helped him and explained things he didn’t know.

“Did I get the correct answer?” The redhead asked for the hundredth time.

“No man, I’m sorry. It was B.” Slash said, feeling a bit sad for the poor guy.

“Ugh, dude, can we be done for the day? I can come back tomorrow, if that’s okay with you. I don’t think I can fit any more information in my brain!” Axl’s voice sounded really tired.

“Yeah totally, I’ll grab something to drink, you can lay on the bed, if you want to.” Saul said, trying to sound as chill as possible.

Luckily his parents were still outside, so he could steal two beers from the fridge and a couple of his mother’s cigarettes. A part of him was so happy that Axl was going to come over again tomorrow; he couldn’t wait to spend more time with him, but he also wondered if Axl did that on purpose.

Did Axl Rose really want to spend more time with him? Or was he just trying to use him? Slash offered his help, so that couldn’t be!

Lost in his thoughts, the younger boy almost didn’t notice his guest taking an interest in his guitar.

“Do you like it?” He asked calmly, and Axl almost jumped.

“Oh shit man, I didn’t mean to be nosy. It’s just that I didn’t know you had an electric guitar!” Axl justified himself, sounding a bit nervous.

“Yeah, I play, I’m hoping to be in a band someday. Wanna hear something?” The redhead just nodded and Slash started to tune his guitar.

“Do you have any requests?” Slash asked. Axl simply shook his head.

Saul decided to play something that he wrote a while ago; he tried to let his heart lead him, forcing himself to not look at the beautiful boy standing next to him.

After a couple of minutes, he heard a voice sing in such a wonderful way that he stopped playing for a second. He lifted his gaze and found Axl staring at him, still singing.

“I didn’t know that you could sing! Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you.” Slash stated, and Axl blushed a tiny bit.

“You also didn’t tell me that you could play this good! And, well, I’m in the church choir.” He almost whispered the last part, like he was ashamed of it. Slash didn’t comment on that, not wanting to upset him.

“It’s just something that I wrote. What song was that, anyway?” Saul said, trying to avoid focusing the attention on himself.

“I wrote it.” Axl replied, then grabbed his beer and took a sip.

Slash put a random record on, then he gestured to Axl to sit on his bed. They stayed like that for a while, the curly-haired boy trying to get closer and closer to the other without being noticed. Axl had his eyes closed, enjoying the music, and Slash thought that he was the most wonderful boy on Earth.

When the song was over, the redhead looked at the clock. His eyes were wide and he gulped down what was left of his beer in a single sip.

“Fuck… Shit… Man it’s really late, I have to go now. Is it okay for me to come on Thursday?” He sounded really scared, like something bad was about to happen.

Slash simply nodded and led him to the front door. Before leaving, he hugged him awkwardly; he could smell cigarettes, alcohol, and his cologne. He wanted it to last forever, he didn’t want Axl to leave this fast—He wanted Axl to like him back.

As soon as he shut the door, he let himself fall on the couch. He was so confused… Why did Axl have to rush away like that? Why did he seem so sweet but also distant? Would he keep his promise to go to prom with him?

“Axl Rose can be a heartbreaker!” Slash heard Duff’s voice in his head.

He just hoped that wasn’t the case.

Taglist : @slashscowboyboots @duffshairdye @cosmicrealmofkissteria @ozzy-dumbass-of-darkness @smokeandmirrorz @thespacecowboyyy

#axl rose #slash #slaxl #guns n roses #highschool au #au #fanfic #80srock #80s rock band

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

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Do you write AU prompts? The idea of Punk Band Jaskier wont leave my mind 😂

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 3,115Rating: Ea/n: I don’t know if you wanted or intended this to go in a smutty direction but the 2000’s punk scene loving teenager in me jumped out and it like the perfect setting to go with a “fingered in the back of a bus” fic I’ve wanted to write since I saw a post about it. This is also my first time writing an AU fic so thanks for the chance to try that out too! If you’d rather have this prompt with less smut and more swoon, please let me know and I will give you a do-over. Thanks!

You didn’t like the term “groupie” but you couldn’t deny that you fit the description. Ever since your first Vicious Mockery concert, one of their first gigs in a tiny dive bar you snuck into with friends in high school, you’d been their self-proclaimed biggest fan. You were proud of your perfect merch button collection and had them all pinned to your favorite faded denim jacket. You’d cred happy tears when they got their first album deal and your first summer after undergrad was spent following the band on its US tour. You couldn’t decide what exactly it was about the band that captured you. Everything about it just seemed to click for you. The lyrics were beautiful and evocative. The music itself managed to project the anger and dismay you felt more with every passing year as you grew to learn more about the world around you, but there was a thread of hope in every song. The fact that the band leader, Jaskier, was gorgeous didn’t hurt things either. And here you stood, inches from him as he performed on stage, closer than you’d ever been before.

He was wearing his usual gig attire, a bit higher quality version of the same outfit he’d worn that first night. A dark blue button-up shirt with half of the buttons undone, the wolf’s head pendant that dangled off a chain and glinted through the dark hair on his chest. He wore an open vest over the shirt and jeans that had been tailored to show off his assets. He still wears his signature converse, burgundy and white and scuffed from time on the road. His chestnut brown hair was brushed to one side but didn’t block the view of his bright, blue eyes, their intensity emphasized by black eyeliner. Eyes that sought you out in the crowd mere inches from his feet, a flicker of recognition lighting in them that sent a thrill up your spine. He pulled his focus away from you to seamlessly transition to his guitar solo, but your eyes never left his, even as your friend screamed along the words or as you jumped along to dance to the music you stared shamelessly.

The final song came too soon as Jaskier gave a final wave along with the rest of his small band. It was tradition for him to toss his guitar pick into the crowd at the end of every show. Tonight, he crouched down, inches from you, and gave a wink as he flipped it into your open hands. He walked off the stage then and you stared after him until he was completely out of sight. Your friend was saying something to you, excitedly gesturing to the guitar pick you still clutched in your hand, and you finally shook yourself out of your daze to join them in their fangirling.

You’d just walked onto the parking lot when a security guard approached you and with him the brooding drummer from the band. Your friend’s eyes widened and they clasped your arm with both of theirs.

“Y/N, am I hallucinating, or is Geralt walking this way?” they ask. Before you can answer both men are standing in front of you.

“Which one?” the guard asks. Geralt looks between you and your friend and gestures at you with a “hmm.”

“Alright,” the guard says and hands you a lanyard with a badge on it that says “VIP Backstage Pass.”

“These were sold out,” you say. Your friend punches your arm and when you look at them you can read the look in their widening eyes so loud and clear you can practically hear their voice in your head screaming “when a band member gives you a backstage pass you do not question it.”

You looked back at the security guard and the silent drummer and pulled yourself up to your full height.

“They get one too,” you say, your voice stronger than your convictions. You hear your friend gasp next to you but you made a promise long ago that you would never abandon your friends. Even if the man whose posters you’d been plastering over your walls since you were 16 wanted you to come back to see him. The guard looked to Geralt whose mouth quirked into a little, approving smirk and he did the unthinkable. He took his own lanyard off, tucked beneath his shirt for safekeeping, and placed it around your friend’s neck.

“There,” he says, voice deep and husky, “No one will try and keep them out with that on.”

Your friend opens and closes their mouth a few times like a floundering fish and you jump in to save them.

“This is really generous, thank you so much, so…. Backstage?” you say, taking your friend’s sweaty, clammy hand in yours. Geralt nods and the guard gestures for you both to follow them. You walk in silence gripping each other’s hands, your heart in your mouth as you climb the steps where you can see amps and props being quickly taken down and prepped for packing into the tour bus. Then you see him, coiling up a length of wire and laughing with a grip. He glances over and sees the four of you approaching and an excited smile lights up his face. If you weren’t trying to help your friend stay brave you would freeze like a deer in headlights. The guard walks off a little ways and leaves Geralt with the two of you, waiting as Jaskier walks over to greet you all.

“Well Geralt are you going to introduce me to your friends?” Jaskier asks.

“Ah….” Geralt says, looking at the two of you for any form of ID.

“Good lord Geralt don’t tell me you didn’t even have the basic courtesy to introduce yourself,” Jaskier says exasperatedly. You stifle a giggle, pleased to see that their banter is the same in person as it is in interviews. Jaskier hears you and gives you a little wink before stretching out a hand.

“Jaskier,” he offers, as though you don’t know his full name, birth sign, and favorite origami form. You take his offered hand and give it a little shake, your hand tingling and shaking a little but he’s too kind to indicate that he notices.

“Y/N,” you say and then, a beat later, “Oh and this is F/N.”

Jaskier releases your hand and takes your friend’s and then notices the lanyard around their neck.

“Oh excellent! I see you’re to be our new drummer. Thank the gods, we’ve been trying to find someone a bit more charming and sociable. You’ll do splendidly,” Jaskier says.

“I can’t even play the drums,” your friend says, laughing and relaxing a bit more.

“Lucky for you, that pass comes with a free lesson,” Geralt says. Jaskier gapes as Geralt offers your friend his hand and they walk towards the drum set that’s still intact. Your friend glances back at you with huge eyes and you give them an encouraging thumbs up before they turn their attention back to Geralt who begins to talk with them about how to hold the drumsticks.

You are suddenly keenly aware that you’re alone with Jaskier who is smiling at you. You return the smile a little shyly and nervously tuck your hair behind your ear, his eyes following the motion.

“Is this weird?” he asks.

“What?”

“You being brought back here. Because I don’t want to take any liberties or make you uncomfortable.”

He looks sincerely worried and you notice he’s keeping his distance (unlike Geralt who, you can see in the distance, has his arms wrapped around your friend as he shows them how to position their arms).

“Oh Jaskier,” you say, putting a hand on his arm comfortingly, his eyes flicking down to your hand and then back up to your eyes, “No this is… amazing. I was going to buy a pass but they were sold out by the time I got to them. Which is stupid because I had an alert set but fucking scalpers always scoop them up and I can’t help that I had finals to work on and, anyway, yes… This is… amazing.”

“I’m glad,” he says, “Do you want to see the tour bus?”

“Hell yes,” you say enthusiastically. Though the band was pretty transparent with their fans and showed a lot of the process, they were protective of the tour bus, calling it their safe space. The back of his hand brushes against yours as you walk and you see Jaskier giving you the occasional little side glance, smiling whenever you catch each other’s eyes.

The bus is somehow both exactly what you expected and nothing like you expected. You’d seen other tour buses belonging to other punk bands and was prepared for mess and extravagance and possibly even a ball pit. The first word that came to mind was “cozy.” There were seats up front, the occasional hoodie and neck pillow left here and there, and then a partition. When you passed behind it you saw a few cots and a little kitchenette complete with a toaster oven, mini fridge, and an electric kettle. There were a few mugs and a surprising collection of teas. Then again, they were a British band.

“Can I get you something? Ale? Tea?” Jaskier offers.

“I’ll take a tea,” you say, not because you actually drink tea but because you’ll be damned if you don’t let Jaskier make you tea.

“Alright, let me get some options for you. Please make yourself at home,” he says as he rifles through the cupboard. You realize there’s nowhere to sit but the cots back here and it’s not hard to see which is Jaskier’s with its rich colored sheets and pile of leather notebooks which you know are filled with lyrics that you’ll learn by heart one day. You sit on the edge of the cot and when he turns and sees you there he smiles so wide you see a hint of canines, suddenly shaken with the mental image of him tracing those teeth along your neck.

“Y/N?”

You realize he’s been talking to you and you shake yourself out of your daydreams.

“Oh, um, peppermint!” you say. He nods and goes to fill the kettle with water.

“So you’re an a-list band with several hit albums but you still just casually make fans tea?” you ask.

“I know, you can take the boy out of the pub but…” his voice trails off, “And besides, you’re not just a fan. You’ve been there since the start.”

“I mean sure but… wait how did you know that?” you ask. You see the tips of his ear redden slightly in embarrassment and when he turns around, the tea steeping in a mug that’s clearly his with ART THOU NASTY in middle ages calligraphic script on it, he musses his hair nervously.

“Ah, I’ve noticed you? Gods this sounds creepy. I mean, at the start there weren’t that many people who came to shows so the ones who showed up became familiar to me. I remember you came to our first show in the US and then as I saw you in the crowd through the years you kind of became a familiar face and it helped me feel a bit less nervous,” he says, sitting on the cot across from yours, all black sheets and horse stuffed animal declaring it Geralt’s.

“Well that’s really sweet but I’m not the only person who’s been there from the start,” you say.

“I know, but you stand out,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all the groupies,” you say teasingly.

“Well of course. But I only make the really special ones tea,” he replies with a cheeky wink, going to retrieve the steaming mug and removing the leaves with care before handing it to you, fingers brushing as you take it. You let the mug warm your hands and he sits across from you and you begin to talk. You talk about where you’re from, swap stories about sneaking out of home to go to see bands you admire, the writing process for his lyrics and a dozen other things. He slowly goes from an impossibly distant, untouchable star to a man around your age you could run into on campus. Every positive quality you assumed about him is correct from his humility to his kindness, to his attention to detail.

“Your tea’s gone cold, d’you want me to reheat it for you?” he offers. You look down at the forgotten tea and then back up at him a little sheepishly.

“Can I tell you something and you promise not to hate me?”

He tilts his head at you curiously and you sigh.

“I don’t really like tea,” you admit.

“Oh well get out,” he says sarcastically, taking the mug from your hand and taking it to the sink.

“I’m sorry, I’m an American, we’re a coffee drinking people,” you say. He shakes his head slowly in faux disappointment, the twinkling of his eyes giving him away.

“Well there must be a punishment for this. I mean the last time an American spurned tea there was a whole war about it,” he says.

“Yeah a war where we kicked your ass,” you reply cheekily. His mouth forms in an adorable “o” of surprise.

“The cheek! The audacity! Alright that’s it, FOR ENGLAND!” he roars and leaps forward, tickling you. The bus rocks slightly as you laugh and try to extract yourself from his grip.

“Cry God for Harry, England, and St. George!” he cries.

“CA-CAW!” you retort, seizing his pillow and popping him in the face with it.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, gasping from laughter.

“A bald eagle, you would know that if you were American,” you say, puffing your chest out with your hands on your hips as you stand over him. There’s a moment of quiet where you both recaptures your breathing, still giggling from the sheer silliness and insanity of the evening, and then Jaskier’s hand has gripped your wrist and gently pulled you on top of him and you are hungrily kissing each other, hands roaming as before but more eager and grasping. You straddle him and run a hand over his chest, fingers tangling in his hair and the chain and his hands grip your ass, pushing you closer as his teeth graze over your bottom lip, nipping it and slipping his tongue between your lips when you gasp at the sensation.

He flips you as though you weigh nothing and you can feel the lean musculature of his body as your hands continue to roam beneath him.

“Can I?” he asks, fingers resting above your belt. You nod wordlessly and wrap a hand around his neck and pull him in for another kiss. He returns your kiss without missing a beat, his fingers nimbly sliding the belt through the buckle, unbuttoning and undoing the zipper with the deftness of a slight of hand trick. His fingers caress you through your underwear, already damp with your arousal, and he makes a deep, throaty moan as he traces the length. Your breath hitches as he finally pulls the fabric to the side and he begins to explore you directly, fingers slick and searching.

“You’re so wet for me already,” he murmurs into your jaw, punctuating his sentence with a nip.

“Don’t let it make you cocky, England,” you reply breathlessly as his thumb brushes against your clit.

“So impetuous,” he tsks, sliding a finger inside of you and ripping a moan from your lips. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, ensuring you’re ready before adding a second finger.

“Where’s that fighting spirit now, Yankee?” he whispers. You swallow the words and grip his hair tight as his fingers thrust deeper and curl slightly inward.

“Fuck… you,” you gasp, a sad attempt at rebellion as you buck against his hand which takes the cue and speeds its thrusting.

“No, love, I’m fucking you. And you love it,” his voice dips into a growl as he feels your thighs tensing and trembling, signs you’re getting close. You don’t have the breath to keep this game going so you allow yourself to get lost in your senses. The scent of salt and cedar, the taste of his lips, the sound of your mingled gasps as he takes eager enjoyment from pleasuring you, the sight of his arm between your thighs and his beautiful blue eyes so close to your own, so much more beautiful than you can put into words when he’s watching you unravel beneath his touch.

He lies next to you as you catch your breath, his head resting against your shoulder. The bus shakes and you can hear the telltale sound of instruments being loaded underneath.

“Oh shit I should go,” you say though you hate to pull yourself away.

“What’re you doing the rest of the summer?” he asks.

“Following the tour,” you admit as you zip up your pants and work to quickly get dressed.

“What about your friend?” Jaskier asks.

“They’re going with me, it’s our we-survived-freshman-year-of-college tour,” you reply.

“Come with us,” Jaskier says. You check his face for signs that he’s joking and see none. His blue eyes look into yours entreatingly.

“I mean… is that… something we could do?” you ask.

“It might be a bit of a tight fit and I’d have to ask Geralt and the others if it was ok with them and update our manager but, hell, why not? And you don’t have to, of course,” Jaskier says hurriedly, ever cautious of making you feel coerced.

“I’ll have to ask F/N but I can almost promise you they’ll be down with it. If you’re really sure,” you say, though every part of you screams to say yes and fuck the consequences.

“Of course,” Jaskier says, nodding in agreement. On cue the partition between the seating area and the back is parted, Geralt and F/N walking in together.

“Oh you’re here, good, F/N is coming with us,” Geralt announces casually.

“If you’re good with it,” F/N says, giving you a look that says ‘if you aren’t there will be hell to pay.’ You and Jaskier share a smile and Jaskier turns back to Geralt and sighs heavily.

“Alright, Geralt, but you owe me one.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies, glancing at your belt loop and noticing the loop you missed in your hurry.

“Right well let’s go tell Andrzej,” Jaskier says and the two walk out through the partition to find their manager, leaving you and F/N to silently scream and jump around.

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier smut #The Witcher AU #reader request

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hilllsnholland · 6 years ago

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Paper Airplanes

Pairing: College!Tom x College!Y/N

Wc: 2kish

Warnings: swearing and tooth-rotting fluff :)

Summary: You know all those cliches in movies? yeah well, this oneshot is full of them. So...check yes Juliet?

There were many things on your to-do list today. Homework, filing papers, possibly getting lunch if you had time (which you did not). On your long list of things, getting hit in the eye with a paper airplane was not one of them. Your hand went up to feel the sensitive hit while the projectile fell into your lap. Luckily it didn’t hit your actual cornea, just the lid, but fuck that hurt. You looked around the office/lounge area to see who was the assailant, only to see Tom.

“For fuck sakes Tom,” You whine and throw the plane back at him.

“Sorry love, I just wanted your attention.” He laughs and picks the plane right out of the sky. “Need someone to keep your company?”

He signaled to the very barren student lounge/event office space that you were currently in charge of. You had taken the job as a ‘student event assistant’ last semester, which basically meant you made posters for Uni events, in charge of student activity sign-ups, paperwork, and most important taking ID pictures. It was a very laidback job though, your desk sitting in the student lounge which was usually quiet. Most of your time was consumed getting homework done or watching Hulu.

“As long as nothing else comes at my face,”

“I can’t-“

“Holland, I swear to God.” You narrow your eyes and he laughs.

“You know me too well Y/N,”

Tom says as he knocks on the locked door of your desk area. Your desk was positioned in a smaller office room that was open to the lounge. It was easy access for you to talk to other students or for others to ask questions. Mainly it was a nuisance to walk around your desk and through the door, but you dealt with it. Tom grabbed a chair next to your desk and leaned back, feet propped up on your physics textbook as he relaxed.

You rolled your eyes, shifting his feet off your books and placing them on the free area next to them. It took some time to get used to Tom’s pestering nature, but after meeting him last semester it became a fond friendship. Tom had come to the event office to ask if he could publish posters for his brother’s movie festival. You agreed and he went straight to playfully flirt with you. Nothing had happened though, which you were trying to not mind. Although his presence made your heart thump and palms sweat, you didn’t want to jump into some puppy dog love.

“Who do you have for physics?”

“Watanabe,”

“Yikes. Good luck with that babes,” Tom flips through the book and raises his brow at you. “So, what time are you off?”

You turn your clock towards you and saw it was 4:15. Forty-five minutes until freedom, and by that you mean watching your shows while eating pizza bites.

“I get off at five,” You spin in your chair and Tom stops you with his foot.

“You got plans?”

“Do I ever?”

Tom snickers and moves your chair between his legs, your feet bouncing off his. He bites his lip and looks beyond you. For a second you thought you were going to explode. Was Tom going to ask you out? Not only would that complete every dream and wish you’ve had ever, that would also give you something to do besides self-indulge. Tom stands up suddenly and looks down at you with that shit-eating grin he always has.

“Can you retake my ID picture?”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows and Tom shrugs.

“I lost my ID. Help a boy out,” He whines while grabbing the sides of your face. “I’ll make it worth your wild.”

You feign a sighed ‘fine’ as you turn on the ID machine. Tom hops over the waist height counter and stands in front of the small white backdrop. You spin your seat around and play with the settings until it’s not a fuzzy mess of Tom’s face.

“Hold on,” Tom fumbles with his pockets until he pulls out a pair of circular black glasses.

Fuck, as if he couldn’t get any cuter. Your face is flushed as he adjusts them on his face. The frames are big but they make his brown eyes sparkle behind the glass. No way could they be real, he’s just toying with you at this point. Tom rubs his lips together, sliding his tongue between the pink lines and smirking at you. He knows he looks like a whole meal. Your mind wanders. It’s getting really hot all of sudden. Now all you can think of is how his glasses would look perched upon your-

“Nose?”

“Huh?”

“I said, do these glasses look too big for my nose?” Tom squints his eyes at you and you laugh off the lustful thoughts.

“No, no you look good. Why do you want to wear glasses in your ID though?”

“I want to look studious,” He states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

A flat ‘hmph’ leaves your lips as you raise three fingers in the air. Tom relaxes and shines that perfect smile towards the camera lens. You count down and click the camera to snap the most perfect photo you’ve ever seen. Tom can’t take a bad picture, can he? This sappy crush you have is becoming a little obsessive because now you can’t stop staring at his beautiful face. The machine chucks out the new ID and you hand it to him.

“Picture perfect,” He muses and pulls out his wallet. “I also wanted to wear the glasses to see you get all red,”

Your chair spins in his direction and you throw a pen at him. It misses by an inch, flying past his ear as he laughs at you. Tom leans on the counter, picking the paper airplane that he threw before. He plays with it, moving the nose across the desk until it’s running past your hand that’s sitting on the computer keys. He pretends to trace your hand with the makeshift toy, humming to himself.

“So we’re going to go eat after or?” Tom hums with that stupid twinkle in his eye.

“Sure, you want to go to the usual?”

Main Street. It was a small, hole in the wall place in the downtown district near the Uni. They had the best sandwiches. Tom brought you there one evening after a job fair at school. You remembered it so vividly, down to where he carved your name into the window sill by your signature spot. Tom nods and drops the paper airplane back on the desk. He has been so fixated on that damn toy since he walked in here. It was close to driving you mad.

“Are you going to recycle that or?”

“Please. Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you to open the airplane since I got here.” Tom states in almost a watery tone. He was pleading to you with his eyes. “I’m dying here Y/N,”

Tom was riled up, now pacing back and forth in front of you. No wonder he was acting so strange, whatever was in the airplane had him going crazy. His excitement, or dread, was causing his mood shifts which were more than usual. You grab the airplane and unraveled it from its original form. Every unfolded layer made you nervous. What the hell did he put in here that’s making him so jumpy? You see words appear on the page and with one final crease, it shows a small note.

Dear Y/N,

Be my girlfriend and fly away with me?

At the bottom of the page it has two large boxes with ‘yes’ and ‘no’ written next to them. Tom’s signature was below that, his bubbly and perfect handwriting made it official. You didn’t respond. Was this a joke? Like, was Tom Holland really asking you out with a note?

“Are you serious?” You laugh

Tom doesn’t react. He’s biting down on his lip and waiting for you to give him a real answer. His palms are sweating. This was the only way he could find the words to say anything. He was a little oblivious, he needed to see it in writing because words made him lost. You look at him and he seems to be getting disheartened.

“Tom-“

“Hey it’s okay,” Tom grabs the paper and tries to stuff it into his pocket.

“Tom-“

“No, it’s alright. I’ll see you around,”

Tom grabs his stuff quickly and rushes out the door. You stood there feeling stupid. You laughed at him for Christ sakes! But in your defense, it seemed like a joke Tom would make. His face though, you saw the crushed look upon his face. He was gutted. You look to the clock, 4:45. Fuck it. Executive order, you were done with work and now you had to make things right.

Tom sat in the dimly lit restaurant, stirring a cup of tea with a little wooden stick. His heart felt heavy, his mind was cluttered with antagonizing thoughts. He felt stupid. After days, maybe weeks, of trying to say something to Y/N, he wrote a stupid fucking note? What kind of grade school shit is that? Tom didn’t even touch his sandwich. He felt physically ill.

His fingers brush over your name that was carved into the window sill. God, it took forever to write it into the wood. He tried a pen, knife, and keys. Took all of dinner but it happened. Your name forever carved into one of his favorite places. Tom couldn’t be mad at you. Your name sparked that light feeling in his chest. Like his heart was flying. It was dumb though, a stupid puppy dog crush. His eyes fixated on his uneaten food until something poked his nose. It didn’t hurt but it was blunt, something scratchy. A poorly made paper airplane fell on top of his Mediterranean sandwich. He looks up and sees you standing there, hands behind your back like you’ve done something wrong.

“Y/N, you don’t-“

“Come on Tom, open it.” You whine and take the seat in front of him. “I’m dying here,” You mimic.

Tom gulps hard, opening the airplane folds nervously. You were not a master of paper folding at all. The nose of your airplane was bent before it hit Tom’s nose and the creases were all wrong. But it got to its destination and that’s all that mattered. Tom unfolded it and saw your beautiful handwriting scribbled across the paper.

Dear Tom,

Sorry for being an ass. Do you forgive me? (Checking yes means you’re my boyfriend so choose carefully)

Tom scans the bottom where there are two boxes. Both had the word ‘yes’ next to them, leading him with no ultimatum. He laughs, grabbing his pen and creating a new box. You sit back, still unsure if he was mad that you disregarded his note from before. Tom turns the note around and you see the new box says, ‘Definitely you div’.

“So I’m the div huh?” You giggle while leaning close over the table. “You’re the one using primary school ways to win my heart,”

“It worked didn’t it?” Tom wiggles an eyebrow at you, his lips looking delectable.

“Why don’t you come over here and see,”

Tom lifts himself slightly out of the chair to meet your lips. His one hand cupped your cheek while the other moved across your carved name on the window sill. You were trying to not completely burst into a fit of laughter. You were out of this world happy, even it was full of cliches. But maybe that was the thing about puppy love. It’s pure and full of gestures of admiration. All reservations aside, you were now falling fast into that ‘puppy dog love’.

Tom’s lips are better than you could ever imagine. It was the thing you see in movies, that true love’s kiss or whatever. It felt right? It felt better than right, it felt like the most amazing thing you could besides looking at Tom’s beautiful face. And boy, did he feel the same way. All those days worrying about what to say paid off. He finally got to kiss the girl of his dreams. Your cute little gasps against his lips. The way your hand carresses his so softly. This was better than any dream he ever had.

“Worked pretty well, huh?” Tom leans his forehead against yours, pecking smaller kisses to your lips.

“Shut it Holland,” You kiss him again. “Don’t make me write a breakup airplane,”

#Tom Holland imagines #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland blurbs #Tom Holland fics #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x you #Tom Holland fanfic #tom holland

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years ago

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Lunch Buddy: Chapter Fifteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 15: Avoidance

Chapter Summary: The thing about avoiding your problems is that you always have to face them sooner than you think.

Chapter Word Count: 2611

A/N: Slight warnings for a little bit of angsting, and it’s a little light on Steve content (though he eventually appears from afar). Anywho. I wish I could say something cool like ‘enjoy the pining!’ but I have no idea how long I can actually keep them apart considering I have been mushing two dolls together in my head and going ‘now kiss!’ since I started posting. There will be a little pining though. Like, maybe a car air freshener, at least. Enjoy!

I avoided Steve for the rest of the long weekend. It was easier than it might have been had he not been called in for something. Though we still had texting, he was busy and I didn’t instigate. Even when we did communicate, my responses were short and didn’t leave much for follow up. He probably assumed I needed time to de-socialize, because that was the kind of guy he was, sweet and caring and all good things. Meanwhile, I knew exactly why I was trying not to talk to him, and it stressed me the hell out.

I didn’t want to think about any of it and found my perfect excuse on Monday morning, when a work project made me skip lunch and go into overtime. I immediately texted Steve telling him I’d be busy for a few days and threw myself into work. Unfortunately the project was too time-sensitive and it was done before I even clocked out Tuesday afternoon.

“Okay, this definitely isn’t about money anymore,” my boss said that evening, just when he was packing up. “Do you have a spouse you’re having a fight with?”

“I’m just…looking for stuff to do. To keep me busy.” I didn’t back down when he stared at me. “Just for this week?”

He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “Okay. Lunches and up to one hour after if you spend it working on organizing the junk drive. Make real progress on cleaning that out and I’ll approve the overtime.”

That was two hours of mindless-but-incredibly-draining work that would put me at a worse commute time and make me crawl into bed at the end of the day, and hopefully completely wipe me out on the weekend.

Perfect.

“Thank you!” I said and started to bound out to get started on the one job everybody in my department passed around like it was a beach ball on fire.

“Seriously,” he said and I stopped. He stood there with his bag over his shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”

I almost smiled, but remembered that would be out of character. “I’m fine,” I said and shrugged one shoulder. “Holidays, you know?”

It worked. For the most part. I at least had a plausible excuse to keep Steve off my back, and my boss didn’t press any further, and I made progress on the most mind-numbing task ever embarked upon by an actual human with an actual brain.

The only problem was that it wasn’t numbing enough. As much as I tried to avoid thinking about Steve at all, he was still in my phone, as was Sam, and even Clint and Natasha now too. Pepper wasn’t a very social texter, thankfully, but I kept getting pulled back to Steve in other ways. In the course of three days I: saw a tuft of blonde hair that made me do a double-take, heard his recorded laugh as I passed by someone who didn’t understand the concept of using headphones, and had to listen to a few older ladies gossip about ‘what a man’ he was in unfiltered detail. I even had a dream about some of the things they said because the universe hated me, apparently.

And then there was Steve himself, not texting that much, but always taking the time to send me a little photo every day that was obviously meant to make me laugh. He even sent me the ‘Hang in there’ kitten poster (which made me snort way too loudly in public) along with ‘I dare you to use this for your lockscreen for a month.’

I texted back, ‘What do I get for it?’ before I realized I was breaking my own goddamn rules and smashed my face into my desk.

Steve: Something good ;)

Oh god. Did he know what he was doing? If he did I wished he would have just put me out of my fucking misery already.

Steve: How’s work?

Fuck.

Me: Busy. Me: How’s work? Steve: Almost done Steve: I hope your job lets up this weekend Steve: Sam is coming back with me and we’re hoping you can come out with us

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Me: We’ll see

Work did let up. Unfortunately. I made good progress on organizing the long-forgotten junk drive and my boss repaid me and betrayed me in the same breath.

“I’ll approve the overtime,” he said. “But that’s it for now. You look exhausted and I need you to take the weekend to rest up, okay?”

It was the one and only time I had ever wished to have a bastard boss again. But I was tired, and I didn’t have any excuses. “Okay,” I said and left his office feeling miserable. I got home pretty quick for a Friday night, which just left me more time to think about things I really didn’t want to think about. And there was only one cure for that.

The club was busier than I was used to, busier than it had any right to be with the night just really beginning, but as soon as I got in I made a beeline for the bar and snaked in the first opening I could find. It was loud, and too crowded, and I really wasn’t up for this, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I started drinking.

That was a bad idea. Aside from the ‘using alcohol to try and drown your emotions’ being a baseline fucking awful idea, it also didn’t fucking work.

Couples. They were everywhere. Leaning next to each others’ ears, making out along the wall, dancing together like it was foreplay; they were so all over the place that even the fake ID crowd seemed less obnoxious by comparison.

Except for when a gaggle of party girls yelled right next to me for no real reason and reminded me they really weren't. The music thumped and I winced and turned away from watching the floor to sip my drink at the bar like the true lonely miser I was.

And wasn’t that just the thing.

Loneliness, as a thing in my life, had stopped bothering me after a while– or maybe I had just stopped noticing it– either way, it wasn’t generally a thing I dwelled on. I took for granted that I wasn’t the type anyone would settle in with; I was too…whatever. So for the longest time I had just assumed I’d be on my own and I was okay with it. I knew I could handle it, and figured I and everyone else was better off for it. People came and went, and no one ever stuck around before– not that I ever gave them a real reason to. And if I couldn’t make friendships work, I had no business getting into a relationship. It truly didn’t bother me. Most of the time.

So it figured I would fall for the first person I’d had qualify as ‘friend’ in a while. That thought was slightly concerning, but as long as I didn’t make these feelings Steve’s problem, I could sleep easy at night. For the most part. The question was how to deal with it. Did I continue as normal and bottle this up for the rest of time, hoping it would fade out? Did I continue as normal but let him know, and let him decide if he wanted to stick around?

Or did I just…let go. Did I stop putting in the time to keep this friendship going. Did I stop responding, start avoiding him, and just fade out of his life even easier than I had faded in. That seemed like a real option. I was so naturally good at it, had done it so much by accident, he wouldn’t even miss me. After a while I doubt he would remember I existed.

My mouth tasted sour and bitter and I tossed back my drink. It didn’t help.

An hour later I was home, sitting at my kitchen counter and hanging my face over a cup of tea that got colder by the minute. My head still pulsed in time with the beat that had driven me out of the club, but it had become less and less over time.

My phone buzzed. “Shh,” I said softly, but it ignored me and I looked over only to hurt my neck when I did a double-take. Steve had sent three texts. Shit. I sat up and opened my phone directly to my messages. If Steve had gotten injured again I was really going to hurt him.

Fortunately the first message was a simple ‘Hey’ sent soon after I had set out on my ill-advised adventure. The next was ‘Are you busy?’ and then simply my name.

I hesitated. I had the terrible thought that here was where I could start ghosting on out of his life. Fade away like the nonentity I was.

I swallowed and sent back, ‘Sry. Went out’

Steve: Oh Steve: Good :) Steve: How are you? Me: Okay Me: You? Steve: I’m okay

The conversation stalled and I realized why I had even considered ghosting– it was easy to not respond when you didn’t know what to say.

Me: Good Steve: Can I ask you Steve: Are you really okay?

His texts came too fast after mine to be responding to the silence. Fuck.

Me: Yes Me: Why?

I shouldn’t have asked, but I had a bad feeling about this. I tapped my fingers on the table while I waited for a response.

Steve: You haven’t been talking to me much lately Steve: I’m just Steve: worried Steve: Was it Thanksgiving? Steve: Was I inappropriate?

Shit, shit, shit. I hit my forehead on the table which, fucking ow, but I deserved it. I had never intended for him to feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault, nor was it ever supposed to be his problem. It wasn’t right for him to be upset because of my bullshit. So I decided to be honest.

Me: No Me: It’s not you Me: It’s very definitely me Me: I’m mis Me: miserable Me: And awful Steve: You’re not Me: Am too Me: It’s not you tho Me: I’m having a hard time Me: That’s all

Honest to a point, at least.

Steve: I’m sorry Steve: Can I help? Me: No Me: Gotta Me: Push through Steve: Okay Steve: I’m your friend though Steve: You can always come to me Steve: And hey Steve: Sam and I are going out tomorrow for dinner Steve: I’ll text you the details just in case you’re up to it Steve: But I won’t expect anything Steve: Is that okay?

Why did he have to be so fucking thoughtful all the time. Why did he have to be someone so out of my league in every single way.

Me: Fine Me: Can’t promise Steve: That’s okay <3

I was going to straight up murder whoever taught him fucking heart symbols. Preferably by taking their heart.

Steve: Have you eaten yet? Me: Don’t wanna Steve: How about dessert?

‘Only if you’re here to share it,’ I thought. The worst part was that it wasn’t even sexual– I just wanted him here. With me. All of the time. Okay, maybe not all of the time, but most of the time. And that was new. That was different. That scared the hell out of me.

Then there was a knock at my door and I froze up. Nobody had buzzed for me and while my building wasn’t exactly Fort Knox, I also didn’t expect company I didn’t explicitly invite over. I gave it a few seconds but kept my connection to Steve in hand (just in case) and went to the peephole.

Me: Someone knocked. If I don’t respond maybe send help Steve: It’s safe :)

I squinted at the message and then peered out again. I didn’t see him at all and it wasn’t like him to hide. I cautiously opened the door and looked around but there was no one– but there was something.

A bakery box sat in front of my door, with a note scrawled on receipt paper that had my name followed with very flowery bubble letters telling me to “Feel Better!” from a hand-scrawled smiling sunflower.

I stared at it, picked up the box, brought it in, set it on the counter, and stared at it some more.

Steve: Okay now you’ve put that thought into my head I’m a little worried Steve: Are you okay? Me: brb Me: crying into cake Steve: Don’t cry Steve: Or cry if you need to I guess Steve: But eat something too Steve: I’ll say good night here Steve: And text you again with dinner info Steve: Again, only if you want to. Sam and I will NOT be slighted Steve: I promise Me: Good night Steve Steve: Good night <3

“Just fucking end me,” I muttered and stared at the screen while I dug into the cake with a fork. (It was small; I felt no shame.) It was also so unbelievably good that I actually stopped and checked out the box.

Me: Wait, how did you get a cake this late??? Steve: Asking the real questions

I laughed. That surprised me, but I couldn’t help it.

Me: It’s really good Me: Thank you Steve: Anytime

I forced myself to think about this whole…situation…while I ate. Phasing out of his life was, apparently, not much of an option if he was just randomly thinking of me like this. And I knew now very firmly that even accidentally hurting him was not an option. Love was an easy word for complicated emotion, but it was the best way I knew how to classify how deeply I cared for him. And I cared, to the point where if anybody was going to get hurt, I’d rather it be me.

The more I thought about it though, the more I had real hope that maybe nobody would get hurt at all. Steve was a really good guy. So even if he accidentally found out (I knocked on wood at the thought) it wouldn’t be the end of everything. He wouldn’t let it be the end of everything; he would be flattered, reject me politely, and we could move on. I hoped.

And for once, the best-case scenario didn’t seem the least likely. I trusted Steve that much. That was something I didn’t want to look into too much, but to be fair, he also trusted…me. He would know I wasn’t infatuated with some aspect of him and we might even work past this together. If not, he would give me the chance to work past it on my own, and I wasn’t about to let him down.

The box topped off my trash so I pulled the bag together and got ready to make the trek to take it out. Coming out the door I almost ran right into my neighbor, Robert, who was apparently doing the same thing.

“Hey,” he said. I was polite like a real human being and asked after his wife and kids. We made some more small talk on the way, and he even waited to hold the chute open for me. When I lifted the bag, his eyes zeroed in on the box stuffed half in the top. “Oh, that place is nice. You celebrating something?”

“No,” I said and shoved it in. “I…wasn’t feeling so great. So a friend sent it to me.”

“That must be a pretty good friend,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about Steve and finally feeling hopeful. “A really good friend.”

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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cultureaddictconfessions · 5 years ago

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Unromantic Love - Cubicles CYO Ending #5

(As requested by readers, I’m posting all the endings for Cubicles! I hope you enjoy them, and I am excited to bring you more choose your own ending fics in the future. Shoot me a message if you want to be tagged. Stay tuned! xoxo, Bri)

The sun streamed in through your bedroom window and slashed right across your eye line, waking you instantly. You groaned, rolling over and trying to escape the golden heat. How had you gotten back to your bed? You held your phone up and blinked blearily. Multiple messages left on your voicemail. Sighing, you opened the visual voicemail app and found that you had 4 from unknown numbers and one from Lily. It was about 10 am and you didn’t usually show up at Lily’s until lunchtime, but you listened to her message first. She reminded you that she would be rather upset if you didn’t show up to Lazy Saturday, and to call her when you were on your way over. Lily also suggested a cold shower and lots of water, assuming you might be hungover. Unfortunately, she was correct.

You pressed the next message after that, sitting up in bed and noticing a glass of water on your night table. You were truly confused now. Suddenly, a man’s voice began speaking boisterously.

“Goooooood morning, dearest! This is James, your favorite co-worker! Just checking to see that you woke up alright and that you’re not still on a bender from last night! You were quite a riot! -chuckles- Anyhoo, I’m sure the rest of the lads will have left you messages because we’re all very chatty, but if you need anything, well… now you have my mobile! Thanks for making last night fun and well-decorated, see ya Monday!”

Oh, Merlin… what had you done to elicit such a bubbly response from James Potter? You grumbled again, getting up and heading to the loo to pop a few aspirins into your weakened body. You shook your head and pressed the next message, after registering James in your contacts.

“Shut up Prongs! Er… sorry Y/N love, you know how James can be! Just wanted to drop you a line and make sure you drink the water on your side table, yeah? You’ll definitely need it considering that third shot really threw you for a loop, I think. Very cute though, and that gave me an excuse to ring you and give you my mobile, didn’t it? Feel better, see you Monday, and please also apologize to your owl for our intrusion.”

WHAT?! You stared at your phone incredulously for a moment before scurrying out of the bathroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen, where your owl was asleep in his cage. The only thing amiss was that the door was open. Had… had the group been in your flat last night with you...unconscious? You’d had the guys over for dinner before, but that was entirely different and in your control. You paused for a moment, looking around wildly, before gasping aloud.

“Oh, Merlin’s knickers! I must’ve gone out on the lash and they had to bring me home. Oh no... how dreadfully embarrassing.” You sunk onto the kitchen floor with your head in your hands. Steeling yourself after a moment, you decided to play the last two messages, which you could only assume were from Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

“Hi Y/N, it’s Remus from work. I’m calling to fill you in on what happened last night because I imagine the others will take the opportunity to say some silly, unhelpful things… oh shut it, you know you’re just using it as an excuse to… Sorry about that. Anyway, James and Sirius had a drinking contest with you and you were completely out of it afterward, so we decided to make sure you got back to your flat okay… We just looked at your ID to find your address and you had your key on you so… Sorry, I know it’s not really appropriate, but I… -coughs- we were all rather worried about you and they felt bad for basically poisoning you THAT’S HOW ALCOHOL WORKS LADS so we set you to bed and put water and the trash bin around in case you needed. Sorry again, and please give me a ring to let me know you’re okay. Cheers.”

Honestly, at this point, your life couldn’t get any worse. Not only had you thought it was a good idea to try to drink James and Sirius under the table, but you proceeded to roll off your trolley and need assistance making it back to your bed. You were honestly surprised that they all collectively decided to bring you back and take care of you, but they were basically your only close friends at work besides Lily. You dragged yourself off the floor and darted back to the loo, rushing to take a shower and get yourself somewhat together so you could Floo over to Lily’s flat in 20 minutes. You didn’t bother to put on real clothes, as you were just going to be lounging on the couch with Lily. As you cobbled together snacks to bring over, you played the final message.

“Why am I going last?! OH! Hullo Y/N! I hope you’re feeling better this morning. Not that you weren’t having fun last night hanging out with us at the party but you seemed pretty sick by the end of it… Moony probably already told you we brought you home and woke up your owl. You didn’t throw up though, and we made sure to leave you on your side so you’d be okay! That was my idea! Your flat is very nice, I really like your posters! WHAT?! WE WERE THERE, I’M NOT GONNA LIE ABOUT LIKING WHAT I SAW! ...Sorry, that sounded creepy. Your decorations, I meant… not that you’re not lovely too… ugh, I’ll shut up now. Anyway, Y/N, I’ll bring you extra sweets Monday to make up for us breaking-and-entering. We really are sorry, but friends don’t leave friends alone when they’re knackered! Have a great weekend! Oh, it’s Peter by the way! Bye!”

You were finished by the end of the message, and you were pretty damn sure you would never be able to look any of them in the eye again after that shitshow. It was pretty funny that they all seemed to have recorded their messages together and were yelling at each other during that. You stepped into your fireplace with a sigh and shouted for Lily’s flat. Green flames licked up over you and whooshed you away, spitting you out in the lobby of Lily’s apartment complex. You gave her a ring to let her know you were downstairs. In a few minutes, the redhead appeared, giving you a once-over that was rather like a mum who thought her child was up to something suspicious. You blinked at her and gestured to go upstairs, and she shook her head before acquiescing. Lily lived on the third floor… and was apparently pet sitting?

“Right, I um… I needed a favor from Potter for this upcoming piece I’m writing, so I was obliged to babysit his cat Algernon for the evening while the party was happening. He’s actually much more agreeable than Potter, and you know I love making new ginger friends.” Lily chuckled nervously as the orange cat called Algernon wove his way around your legs appreciatively. You gave her a pointed look before reaching down and scratching Algernon behind the ears. He pawed at your leg, so you walked through to Lily’s couch and sat down, with Algernon hopping up onto your lap. Lily took the bag of snacks you brought with you and laid the things out on the coffee table. You flipped on the tv and scrolled to Witchflix, too embarrassed to bring up last night’s incident to Lily.

“What did you want to watch Lils? I don’t think I’m in the mood for another romantic comedy, I’m not gonna lie. I think I could do some interior decorating or baking or something…” You took a sip of the water bottle you’d brought along, feeling somewhat better than you had earlier in the morning. Lily appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of Chex Mix and gave you a once over before she settled in with you and Algernon. She snatched the remote and rolled through her queue, making reactionary noises at everything before stopping and looking over.

“Okay, out with it. What happened last night? You look like hell, didn’t take the mickey out of me hosting Algernon, and you haven’t said much since you came in. Did someone make an awkward love confession to you? Better yet… was it more than one of them?” Lily chuckled at the end, but she was fairly serious when she questioned you. You sighed.

“I just got rather drunk and…” You gulped, remembering the voicemails from earlier. You knew Lily was going to roast you for them. “The boys had to bring me home and tuck me in. Spooked Aidoneus and apparently checked out my decorating scheme. Nothing major. Honestly, I shouldn’t have done shots with James and Sirius because they’re notorious for how trashy they are when they drink.” Lily listened silently the whole time before she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Honestly… that’s much better than I expected. Not that being carted home by a bunch of bozos from work is okay in my book, but considering none of them tried anything and you just blacked out and went to sleep, I’m pretty much fine with giving the whole night a pass. Plus that means I didn’t have to babysit you!” She stuck her tongue out at you and you smacked her with a nearby pillow, almost dislodging Algernon from your lap. She held up her arms in surrender, laughing. After a fair bit of ribbing between the two of you, you enjoyed the rest of the afternoon cuddled up and laughing at the flailing and friendships of Muggle British bakers, and didn’t think about boys or work at all. It was absolutely lovely.

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Credit to @ghost-of-bambi and @fetchalgernon for letting me borrow their boy!

Tag List

@supremequeenofthenerds, @wizardwritings, @couragetocontinue, @fudgefight, @lionnottheanimal, @crtreg, @shehassomuchsoul, @formersovietunion, @serenefreakgeek, @bibimagines

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(In an effort to keep the “secret” element of the stories, I will only be linking to each ending in the main post, so check there if you want to read more endings!)

#lily evans x reader #cubicles #choose your own ending #harry potter imagines #domestic au #my writing

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shhh-no-ones-home · 5 years ago

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simulation: highschool ted “theodore” logan x reader

+++++++++ Request from @ringa-starr

"the reader has a crush on ted and she makes her dream family with him on the sims and the head bitch in school finds out about it and embarrasses her in front of the whole school"

we are doing this based on the sims, like if the reader had a thought to make a life simulation game since it obviously wasnt launched until 2000. also girl i meshed both of our ideas so i hope you like it lol

Song: stand out from the goofy movie +++++++++

i sat at my desk and drew in my sketchbook, looking up every once in a while at ted. he was the perfect model, or at least to me he was. see i had this idea a while back about a sort of video game where you could make families and houses and stuff and ive been trying to build my own characters. i was one, obviously, but id also added ted and his best friend bill as my sort of roommates. it seemed like a good idea until lainey found out. she was notorious for throwing people under the bus and starting rumors about people. i sketched until the bell rang, completely ignoring our science teacher. when i stood up i went to shove my sketchbook into my bag when lainey walked by me and slammed her hand down on it, making it hit the floor with a loud thud. i watched in horror as she laughed at my sketches of ted sprawled out on the floor in front of us.

"aw, look! y/n has a crush!"

i dropped to my knees and tried to push the loose drawings into a pile but she was standing on a few, reaching down and picking them up out of my hands.

"give those back!"

she laughed again and looked through them.

"this is adorable, really. do you imagine a life with him?"

she looked up at ted who was trying not to look at her. surely he was as embarrassed as i was if not more. and he had every right to be.

"of course not lainey, hes just has a really good bone structure."

she laughed again.

"and whats that supposed to mean?"

i stood up and glared at her.

"it means hes perfect to draw, a great model has sharp edges and structure."

i paused and looked at ted who was now sort of staring at me. i looked back to lainey and got in her face.

"someone completely opposite of you!"

her mouth hung open.

"how dare you! id be the perfect model!"

ted walked over and offered his hand to her for the drawings.

"may i?"

she glared at him for a second before handing them over to him. he shuffled through them. i wasnt exactly sure what she had picked up but i was a little worried. until he smiled at me.

"actually these are really good dude. im honored that youd want to draw me. of everyone you could choose. i mean, these are excellent."

he went to hand me the drawings back and lainey snatched them, holding them away from both of us. i sighed.

"come on lainey give them back."

i went to reach for them but she pushed me away.

"no, of course i wont give them back. you lost them, theyre mine now. finders keepers."

ted sent her a look.

"you didnt find them you stole them, thats not how that works."

she grinned at ted.

"yes it is, you can give them to her when you find one taped to your locker everyday."

my eyes went wide and i tried to reach for them again.

"i need those!"

she pushed me away again before handing the stack to one of her friends, an evil smile on her face.

"and you can have them, as soon as everyone knows how much you really like ted. and i think these drawings are a perfect way to do that."

i glared at her, putting my arms tight to my sides.

"come on lainey thats not fair. of course she doesnt like me, im just the perfect model, like she said."

they both looked at me and i could feel my face getting warmer.

"right."

i said quietly and she smirked at me.

"we'll see. and so will everyone else."

she stomped off into the hallway with her friend hot on her tail. i shoved my face into my hands immediately. i didnt wanna face ted or anybody else for that matter. then i felt his hand on my shoulder causing me to look up at him.

"itll be okay y/n, if she tapes them to my locker ill try to get them down as fast as possible and get them back to you."

i sighed deeply and shook my head.

"thanks ted, that means a lot."

°°°°°°°°°

i walked into the school and people were starting to look at me. i was a little confused at first until i saw ted standing in front of his locker un-moving. i quickened my pace until i was stood next to him, staring at his locker. my mouth hung open. in big letters above one of my drawings it read 'dream team' not only that but she had red penned over the drawing itself very profane things. of course it was one of the drawings of bill and ted, not jut ted, and she felt the need to let everyone know i wanted both of them as partners. i groaned before ripping the pages from his locker and crumpling them up. ted watched me intently.

"but, your drawing..."

he sighed out, looking at me kind of sad. i shook my head.

"im so sorry ted, i had no idea what she had taken from me and im so sorry its put you in this situation."

he frowned.

"it was a really good drawing before she ruined it."

he looked down at the crumpled paper in my hand before something struck him. he looked up at me with a wide smile on his face.

"hey! i have an idea."

he grabbed my hand and dragged me down the hallway.

"ted where are we going?"

he turned into a classroom. i saw lainey first and glared at her as ted continued to drag me to a table.

"hey bill!"

he said and i finally realized what was happening.

"bill i know youve been drawing the wyld stallyns logo but what if we got y/n to draw us for our band posters!"

he seemed so excited. my eyes were wide as i looked at bill, waiting for his response. bill smiled just as widely as ted.

"dude thatd be awesome!"

i looked up at lainey as bill and ted did the guitar thing. she was fuming. this clearly wasnt what she had planned on happening. ted turned to me.

"so what do you say dudette? wanna be our band artist?"

i laughed a little.

"id love to ted."

he fist pumped the air.

"awesome dude!"

lainey stomped over to us.

"thats not how this is supposed to happen ted."

he looked a little confused.

"and how was it supposed to happen?"

she turned away from him and got in my face.

"you werent supposed to come out of this on top you little weasel."

ted crossed his arms over his chest.

"well what would you say if i asked her on a date?"

we both looked at him with wide eyes, her gaze dripping with anger and mine surprise.

"you wanna ask me on a date?"

she looked at me and then back at ted.

"yeah, you wanna ask her on a date?"

he nodded.

"yeah, i do, if she'll have me."

i smiled widely.

"id love to."

he reached out and took my hand and she stomped her foot harshly against the ground. then the bell rang.

"shit im gonna be late for class."

i groaned and turned to lainey.

"as much as id love rubbing this backfire in your face i cant be late again. thank you ted for asking me to be your bands artist, and ill see you at lunch for more detes on our date."

i leaned up and kissed him on the cheek and he blushed.

"bye!"

#wattpad #x reader #ted theodore logan #bill and teds bogus journey #bill and teds excelent adventure #imagines #one shot #request #173

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skia-oura · 6 years ago

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The Pros and Cons of Surviving an Unstable Pocket Dimension

A/N: I haven’t worked on any Bentley & Co stuff in almost a year. And yet, I found myself wiping the dust of an old WIP a few days ago. Enjoy.

Ao3

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“All right, we’re going to need to take you aside for further investigation,” the security agent said, gently guiding Bentley to another room. “Your luggage will also have to be searched through.”

The first time this had happened had been in a grocery store, and Bentley had just about fled the scene after they were done checking for stolen items. He and Torako had also decided to never go to that particular store again—not that it mattered much, because it was closed a week later. Dipper denied any involvement. Bentley knew Alcor better than to believe that particular declaration. Torako had been seen discreetly high-fiving the perpetrator. Bentley had pretended not to see it. Life went on.

The second time, he’d entered a museum exhibit on the rise and fall of civilizations and how their technology had influenced their lifespans and lifestyles. The alarms had blared, he’d been pulled aside and interrogated about what piece he’d just stolen from the museum. When he said he’d just come in, it took two hours and an extensive check of their inventory to decide that he was telling the truth. In all, he’d just been incredulous and frustrated.

Now, on the third major incident—he was just numb to it.

“I have a doctor’s note,” Bentley said. He gestured back at the luggage checking terminal. “It’s on my phone, in my bag.” He’d gotten it after the museum incident.

“We’ll bring it to you after we’ve checked everything out,” the security agent said, frilled ears fluttering. The door shut behind them, and Bentley pushed down hard on the nerves that it caused. His therapist, who had not been told nearly everything that had occurred and was under the strictest of non-disclosure agreements as concocted by Torako and Dipper, said that it was fine to react poorly to being shut in a room. Bentley understood that. So did Torako and Dipper, who often took to leaving the doors in their new home open. Sometimes they even took it a little too far. Unfortunately, understanding it was fine to react poorly didn’t really change the fact that he was reacting poorly—heartrate up, breathing short, patchwork hands gripping the fabric of his long skirt.

The door opened. “Can I see some ID, please?”

“Of course.” Bentley worked his fingers out of their stiff grip on his clothing. “It’s on my phone, however.”

The agent squinted at him with her three eyes. “Why do you keep asking for your phone so much?”

“All of my important information is on it,” Bentley said. He was really going to have to look into analogue options, apparently, if he wanted to have any kind of expediency in his life. “Usually I have my phone on me to clear up misunderstandings.”

She continued to squint at him, but nodded and left the room. The door clicked shut behind her. He couldn’t tell whether or not it was locked. Bentley closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. It actually halfway worked, which was pleasantly surprising. He opened his eyes, and looked at the room. The room which was bare, save for a lonely, somewhat drooping poster in the corner about alerting the authorities to suspicious behavior in the terminal. It was faded. The section visible behind the poster was darker than the surrounding wall.

The door opened. Bentley turned his attention away from the sad poster to the agent, who passed his phone over. “Please pull up your identification.”

Bentley complied, pulling up the code that would allow the agent to access his public ID. She passed a fancy new flat scanner over it, shimmering with magic, and it chirped before lighting up his ID in hologram form. He had a second to think everything will be fine before the next half-second, in which he saw his photo and thought oh right fuck.

The agent squinted her already squinty eyes further. “…skin tone seems different.”

“There was an accident.” Bentley made a mental note to get his photo updated. Soon. As soon as possible.

“Face is also differently shaped.”

“Accident included weight loss,” Bentley said, frowning. He’d been very comfortable at his previous weight, thank you, and putting it back in a healthy way was taking much more time than usual. The wardrobe situation was unideal. Over by the door, a corner of the poster suddenly gave up and drooped down. Bentley empathized.

“One of your eyes is…gold now?”

“Same accident. It’s very frustrating.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure this is sufficient,” the agent said.

She dug out an attachment to her scanner and passed it over to Bentley. “Please rest your right forefinger on the print scanner.”

That should work. Maybe now he’d finally be on his way to his work conference, where he could take out his frustration by tearing apart presentations by people who made mistakes they should have known better than to make. Bentley pressed his forefinger to the screen. It played a jaunty, tinny tune while it analyzed the results, and then beeped ominously. Bentley stared at his finger in betrayal.

The agent peered at the screen. “…fingerprint also seems slightly off the record.”

Bentley tried one last time to turn her attention where it really belonged. “Can I please show you my doctor’s note?”

She huffed and put away the scanner and its fingerprint reading attachment. Energy like dust motes trailed in its wake before fading into nothing. “Sir,” she said, folding both of her arms, “I’m going to need you to stay in here while I call terminal police to get to the bottom of this situation.”

“Okay,” he said, screaming on the inside. “I understand.”

It took him five hours, several phone calls, and a set of lackluster apologies from all parties involved before Bentley was through security. He had missed his transaction time by a long shot, but still managed to be on his way quickly thereafter.

The fourth time a similar event happened was two days later, at the terminal he’d transacted into. It took him seven hours, that time, and three different translators who tried to disagree on fiddly translation bits.

The following day, Bentley went down to the police station. He updated his biographics, his address (which had also been an issue), received analogue documents in duplicate, and endured a lot of awkward small talk from Officer Akuapem. There, he thought to himself. Nothing bad will happen now.

Then he entered a nearby bookstore, having remembered Torako’s birthday coming up, and single-handedly sent the entire store into siren-blaring lockdown.

One thing that Bentley hadn’t anticipated about constantly emanating magical energy was that his phone never lost charge as long as it was in his hand. He noticed this a week after they’d moved into their new house, having confused and possibly terrified the poor realtor in charge of their case.

“Huh,” he said aloud in the living room, lounging about after work with Torako—who was not lounging around, and instead was researching leads into her very first case as a private investigator. She’d moaned about the piles of paperwork the whole time, but had done it anyways. Such were the perils of working for yourself.

“Huh?” Torako echoed absentmindedly. She twirled the tablet stylus between her fingers, energy become solid. Bentley knew that if he lifted his special reading glasses, it would be shimmering with magic more than it already was.

“How long have we been sitting down here again?”

“About two hours, I think?” Torako underlined something, then slid the tab out into thin air to interact with the 3-D image attachment. She mumbled something to herself about plausible cause and environmental influences and then worried at her lips.

Bentley stared at his phone battery. It was at 97%. He’d been doing some heavy-duty stuff on his phone, like watching dumb videos between watching relevant TADtalk clips about things like the impact of magic on people’s lives or one argument against non-disclosure agreements. He was currently paused on a video discussing Alcor the Dreambender. It had some very strange ideas about how many souls Alcor consisted of.

“Huh,” he said again. Then he opened his mouth and said, “You know, I think I’ve actually charged my phone sitting here.”

If it had been one of his coworkers, they might have challenged that notion, or laughed it off as a joke. Torako, on the other hand, paused, turned her attention away from her case, and raised an eyebrow. “Charged your phone? Where’s your charging pad?”

“In our room.” Bentley frowned at his phone. The percentage ticked up from 97% to 98%. “It…literally went up just now.”

Torako gasped and rocked up from sitting to standing. “You’re the charger!”

Bentley pursed his lips. “The phone is a bit on the old side, the software might be going buggy. I doubt it’s me.”

Instead of seeing sense, Torako thrust her tablet into his face. He leaned back a little and blinked the brightness out of his eyes. “Do mine next!”

He looked at the display. 11%. “You should really charge this more often, you know,” he said, like a person who put his phone on its charging stand every night before bed.

“It runs until it dies,” said Torako, who often forgot to charge hers and therefore had a stash of portable energy clips stashed in odd places around the house. Why she needed two in the bathroom was a mystery. “Or rather, it runs until it is resurrected by your literally magic hands.”

Bentley sighed. He took her tablet in his ‘literally magic’ hands and stared at her with the most deadpan expression he could muster. In response, Torako stared very intently at the percentage icon in the top right corner. In the space above the tablet, an image of a fairly normal looking townhouse loomed over them, apathetic to the tension of the moment.

Two minutes later—Bentley kept an eye on the clock as well—Bentley sighed. “Look, Torako. Nothing has happened.”

“Keep holding it, buddy,” Torako said.

“But nothing has happened. I told you, it’s a quirk of faulty software on my phone.”

He’d just shut his mouth when Torako let out a whoop of victory and punched a fist into the air. “Take that, it went up!”

Sure enough, when Bentley glanced over to check, the battery icon was displaying a damning 12%.

“Your software is bad too,” Bentley said, weakly.

�� “My tablet is seven months old,” Torako cackled.

“It’s faulty,” he tried. “Bad tech. You should get a refund.”

Torako ruffled his hair. “It’s top of the line and you know it. I ain’t afraid to spend money on quality things.”

“Good things sometimes don’t work right?” he said, knowing he had lost and still unwilling to face reality. The gleam in Torako’s eye scared him.

“Give it up, sucker. Your magic hands are magic charging hands now.” She sat down on the couch right next to him and turned the tablet around in his hands. “Now, keep still so I can keep working longer.”

Bentley dropped the tablet and felt vindicated by the way she squawked. “Can’t have my hands if I’m using them,” he said, and promptly walked away to go take a shower.

The next day, he came home having mostly forgotten about the incident and felt tired enough to take a nap on the couch. When he woke up, Torako’s tablet was propped up against his bare stomach, and she was working again.

“You’ll be pleased to know,” she said, grinning and scribbling down some notes in a tab laying across her legs, “that the more direct contact a magitech device has against your skin, the quicker it charges.”

Bentley smacked her with the couch cushion. She cackled, smacked him back, and very soon the tablet was forgotten on the couch as they hurled pillows at each other like children.

Lucas Onderon was a smart person. Very smart; it’s why he had a job in the thinktank of one of the first viable sigils research centers. He churned out ideas and made connections at a speed that sometimes made Bentley feel jealous. Unfortunately, whenever he tried to apply his theories, things inevitably went wrong.

Bentley, glasses perched on his forehead, pointed at a sigil combination that was sparking dangerously to his left eye. “That’s going to explode in your face if you don’t change it.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and flapped his hand in Bentley’s face. “I get it, you think you’re all hot stuff with your special face and your special eyes, but I know what I’m doing! Everything’s fine. Go pay attention to your own souped-up basic shit.”

Across the room, very far away, Ziyi flicked her very large, very sensitive ears and looked up from her own work. “Uh, you might actually want to listen to Bentley? The Bentley Farkas? Who literally has a magic eye now and therefore is extra listenable to?”

Bentley very carefully did not react to the thought that he was surrounded by people who called his body parts magical. Torako had very suddenly wondered aloud at how the magic affected his reproductive system was before freezing and hiding her face in her hands. The fact that it had embarrassed her as much as it had embarrassed him was the only thing that saved her from some nasty prank later on.

On the other hand, Dipper had cackled for all of five seconds before Bentley snapped that he had Dipper’s sister’s soul, and did Dipper really want to think about that? Dipper shut up very quickly after that. Dipper had also woken up in the middle of the night to ice-cubes being slipped down the back of his neck. The screech was very satisfying.

“Who even cares?” Lucas said, consulting his notes for reference as to where he planned to set the severance line. He drummed his painted nails against the surface of the table next to the special sigils testing paper before him.

Bentley sighed. It was his job as supervisor, he told himself. He had no room to judge right now, he told himself. “Seriously. It’s going to explode, and you will not be happy. At least move your notes to a safer range so that you can review them later?”

Instead of listening to Bentley’s very good advice, Lucas stuck out his tongue and started to draw the line. Bentley, because he wasn’t a saint, shut up and moved to a safe distance as he watched the magic spark higher and more violently with every other second. Ziyi groaned and slid one four-fingered hand up her face. Lucas faltered right before crossing the problematic sigil combo, but then continued. Incompletely cut sigils had even odds of either just going dead or exploding with energy, so Bentley felt it was a pretty fair call. Except for the part that, you know, he had told Lucas not to in the first place.

As he thought, the moment the line cut through the sigil combo, the magic pulsed, Bentley closed his eyes, and there was an explosion that shook the room. Bentley felt the hum of the room’s containment sigils as they absorbed most of the shock and prevented structural damage. He counted to two, then opened his eyes.

Lucas blinked, eyes wide, freckled face red from heat exposure and pink-dyed hair blown into disarray. He looked so utterly surprised that Bentley couldn’t help snorting in laughter. When Lucas’s attention snapped over to him, Bentley turned around and tried to muffle his amusement in his hand.

“Stop laughing!” Lucas said. “This was—this was—this was terrible! A disaster!! My work is all gone!” The explosion had damaged his notes, as well, and Bentley wouldn’t be surprised if they were largely illegible now.

“He warned you, you know,” Ziyi said.

“He probably made it worse by standing so close!” Lucas said. Bentley’s laughter faded in his chest. “If he wasn’t here, it probably wouldn’t have even exploded.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Ziyi said. Bentley’s hand stayed over his mouth. Guilt roiled in his gut—what if it had been his fault? What if he’d influenced an already unsteady sigil combination into instability? “Stop blaming your explosion on the dude who tried to help out?”

“You know he’s throwing magic out everywhere, all the time,” Lucas argued.

Ziyi scoffed. Bentley wondered how fast he could make it out the door. “And you know that you have a tendency to think too fast and overlook important factors! You should check over your own damn work after letting it sit for a while.”

This was true, Bentley thought. Lucas did think too fast, and he didn’t proofread nearly enough for his own projects. From his sputtering, Lucas was also aware of this shortcoming, and that gave Bentley enough strength to compose himself and turn around. And not head straight for the door like he wanted to. Anyways, that was behind Lucas, and he didn’t want to go past Lucas at this point.

“Hopefully,” Bentley said, burying his insecurity and slipping his glasses back down onto his nose, “this finally teaches you to take a bit more time with your work. You really are smart, Lucas. Just take more time.”

Lucas blinked, and then his youthful face clouded over with resentment even under the exposing white lights of the sterile room around them. “That’s easy for you to say,” he sneered. “You’re already established and important.”

“And it took time to get there,” Bentley said. He held his hands behind his back to hide how they were trembling. “Time, and care, and a lot of frustration.”

“Lucas has got that last one pinned down,” Ziyi snarked. Bentley threw an exasperated look over to her, and she ducked her face with a sheepish grin. The white lights of the room slid over her single giraffe-like horn, dulled by the overlying coating of stubbly fur.

In response, Lucas threw up his hands and stood. “I’m done! You have what you want! I’m leaving the practical testing room and going back to where I belong, on the drawing board.”

“Okay,” Bentley said, because there was no reasoning with Lucas when he was acting like this. “You go do that.”

Lucas swiped the remains of his notes up and glowered at Bentley on his way out. If the door hadn’t hissed shut, he might have slammed it. There was silence for a long moment, during which Bentley stared over at the wisps of burned paper, ashes spread over the table and the floor. He didn’t want to see whether or not they glittered with magic.

“I’ll go get a vacuum,” Ziyi said, finally.

“No, no, I’ll go,” Bentley said. He smiled over at her. She didn’t look like she thought it was sincere, which was unfortunate because he was trying very hard to seem sincere. “I have to…think,” he said.

Ziyi leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. Scales glittered iridescent along the curve of her cheekbone and down the bridge of her nose. “He doesn’t actually hate you, you know,” she said. “He’s just…frustrated and jealous. Don’t stitch what he said into your soul, yanno? It’ll just give your reincarnations inferiority issues or something.”

Bentley smiled again at her. “I think my reincarnations are already screwed,” he said, thinking of Alcor.

“Hey, I know plenty of people who think having a magic eye would be cool,” she said, unfolding her arms and leaning forward. “Your reincarnations aren’t screwed for that, silly.”

“I don’t think that’s how reincarnations work,” Bentley said dryly. Otherwise, he’d be a lot more like the Original Mable Pines (or whoever was first, if there was a first). “I’m going to go get that vacuum, okay?”

If it took him twenty minutes and a fifteen minute rapid text exchange with Torako in a supply closet several doors down, then that was clearly a lie and never happened. No, his eyes were not red and he wasn’t suddenly congested, thank you very much. And yes, he was wearing gloves because he was just conscientious about keeping his hands clean, not for any other reason.

He couldn’t resist lifting his glasses and glancing at Ziyi’s current project, though, trying to make something that shrinked and unshrinked on command. “Ah,” he said, pointing his finger. “You sure you want to make that combination there?”

“Is it going to explode?” she asked, peering at the combination in question. “It’s just longevity and size, you know. It won’t stick it there, will it?”

“But linking it to that change sign might not be the best idea—look, that change is also the one used for instability, isn’t it? It might make something that’s been made small suddenly become large again.” Bentley stayed very carefully as far away as he could while still looking at the sigils.

Ziyi groaned and slapped her hands on her face. “Nooo, no you’re right, I completely forgot about that change sigil.”

“You might want to combo fluctuation up with a standard kind of sigil with a mid-level small sigil, and then link it to longevity.” Bentley suggested.

“That’s so many though,” Ziyi said, fingers dragging down on her cheeks enough that Bentley could see the pink skin under her eyes. For a moment she was silent, staring down at her sketchpad. Then she jerked up straight, dragged her sketchpad towards herself, and started scribbling down unbroken sigils and ideas. “But if I—Bentley you’re a lifesaver—if I set the combo up concentrically, then—”

He grinned a little. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said. Bentley turned around, tiny vacuum in his hands, and narrowed his eyes at his worktable a few steps away.

Time to wrestle with the basics again.

One quiet Sunday evening, when Torako was gone to speak with a client, Bentley sat in the living room on the couch they’d had since college and stared down at his hands. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be relaxing, or cooking, or getting the garden outside started as Torako and he had planned. That obviously wasn’t happening. Instead, he sat in the golden-orange light filtering in past the translucent inner curtains hung over the French doors leading outside and stared down at his hands.

They were patchworked in different tones, in slightly different textures that didn’t quite blend into each other seamlessly. When he turned his palms over the patchwork wrapped around, crossed his palmar creases and rounded through the whorls of his fingerpads. His fingerprints weren’t the same as before, he remembered. How deep down did the changes really go? How far had the pocket dimension embedded itself in him, in his DNA, to change the smallest parts of his body so subtly? The doctors had said there was nothing physically wrong with him but—he was so cold, and his fingerprints were different, and his eyes were different his skin was different he could feel magic—

He curled and uncurled his hands, slowly, watching the light slide over his skin, watching the shadows bloom before creeping away. Bentley bent his head closer, brought his hands up, and inspected the beds of his fingernails, ran his thumbnails over the surfaces of them. He’d never paid this much attention to his hands before, he thought. That being said, he was—pretty sure that they had never glittered before. When he shut his left eye, the glittering disappeared. A sudden lump in his throat, Bentley closed both his eyes and leaned back. The sun shone dim through his eyelids until he squeezed his eyes shut and counted the seconds for each inhale and exhale.

There was a sudden thrum of energy, like friction skittering over the exposed skin of his arms and setting his hair to stand on end. Bentley opened his eyes just as an arm settled slowly over his shoulder. Only the knowledge that it was Dipper stopped him from jumping, and even then he couldn’t not stiffen just a little.

“Hey Ben,” Dipper said. “It’s been a while?”

“It’s been seven hours,” Bentley drawled. “How was it at Batoor’s new place?”

“Peaceful,” Dipper said. “He’s doing well, excited about college life next month and all that. Haji says to say hello. I also stopped to say hello to the Pines, and they were wondering when you and Torako were going to come out next. Lata especially.”

Bentley pursed his lips. He flexed his fingers, then gripped his legs with his hands and stood. Dipper’s arm slid off him in a rasp of not-quite-real fabric. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Bentley?”

He threw a quick smile over his shoulder, but Dipper looked far from convinced. “It’s fine, I just was reminded I needed one.”

“Bentley…”

Fortunately, Dipper didn’t follow him into the bathroom. He didn’t protest when the door shut, or the lights turned on, or when Bentley said nothing else. Bentley chewed at the inside of his lip and looked at himself in the mirror.

Haji had never apologized, he remembered. Not in words, at least. Bentley leaned forward, putting his weight on his arms, and traced the contours of his face’s reflection. Haji didn’t seem to want to look at Bentley for very long, the two times that Bentley had interacted with him after the pocket dimension incident. Not that Bentley blamed him for that, he thought. His face wasn’t exactly his anymore.

The thought struck his breath in his chest for a few seconds before Bentley gritted his teeth and shoved it away. He thought he’d been over this. He’d thought that he’d come to terms with his new look. With the new needs that came with it, in the forms of two kinds of moisturizer and an extra delicate facewash. His gaze flicked between both of his eyes, the dark eye he had inherited from his parents, the light eye he had inherited from his trauma. Magic sparkled over nearly everything he saw. He suddenly wanted his glasses, wanted to try to forget that his body was no longer one he recognized. Bentley stared at himself in the mirror and was hit by a longing for the him of last year that had him biting his lip and ducking his head against the tears in his eyes.

Bentley sunk to the cold tile floor, the heels of his palms digging into the wells of his eyes and wiping away the water springing forth from them. He curled his body into itself, bare feet dragging against ceramic patterned like ocean waves. Torako had loved them when they’d first looked at the house. The breath sucked into him was almost immediately dispelled. He ran his fingers through his short hair and tugged as hard as he could, baring his teeth against the pain in his chest. “I’m still me,” he whispered into the stillness of the bathroom. His heart beat out, no you’re not, no you’re not, no you’re not, and he curled in tighter on himself.

“Bentley just—let me in, please.”

“No,” Bentley just managed to say. “I’m taking a shower.”

“No you’re not,” Dipper said. The door opened, and Bentley did his best to hide his face, but it didn’t help. “I can read auras, you know.”

Bentley hated Dipper, very suddenly. It wasn’t right to, but he did. “Go away!”

“No,” Dipper said. He slid down the wall to sit next to Bentley, close enough that Bentley could feel the heat of him but far enough that they weren’t actually touching. Bentley wasn’t sure what he would do if Dipper touched him right now. “You need somebody. You don’t need to be left alone with your thoughts.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Bentley said like an absolute child.

“Try me,” Dipper said, echoing that age-old reply. “I’ve lived for like, millennia, I’ve experienced a lot. Maybe it’ll help.”

Bentley sniffled loud and wet and tried to calm down by counting breaths again. “I don’t like talking about it,” he said.

“Take your time,” Dipper said. He shifted. When Bentley sneaked a glance, Dipper had stretched out his legs, one ankle crossed over the other, the hems of his pants cut a few centimeters above his ankles and tailored tight around his calves. The fabric shimmered blue—not with magic, but because Dipper was a showboat.

So Bentley nodded, pressed his face into his knees and covered his ears, and just tried to be. He counted his breaths—one to three in, one two three out, over and over. He focused on the pressure of his knees against his forehead, the coolness of the tile against the soles of his feet, the subtle hum against his skin that he always got now when Dipper was around. He was there. He was alive.

It was strange to think that, all those months ago, he had planned to never be alive again. It was even stranger to think that he’d made it out of that death hole. He never managed to talk about this with his therapist for obvious reasons. Maybe he should have, just—in the barest terms.

“Better?” Dipper asked.

He sighed. “Don’t just read my aura, will you?”

“Can’t help it,” Dipper said. “I barely remember when I couldn’t.”

The thought that Dipper wasn’t able to at one point shocked Bentley just enough that he lifted his face and looked Dipper in the eye for the first time since that morning. “You couldn’t?”

Dipper grinned, shark-teeth sharp. “You know I was human once, back before the Transcendence. Even fewer humans could read auras then, and I certainly wasn’t one of them.”

That’s right, Bentley thought. He looked over Dipper’s features again, eternally young and smooth. Dipper was human once, too. He’d had a human sister, human parents and friends and relatives. He hadn’t had sharp teeth, or black sclera, or brown hair—or maybe he had? How much of his appearance was rooted in reality? Had he had brown eyes, back when he was human?

Bentley sniffled again. Maybe Dipper could understand. “Remind me how you became Alcor again?”

“That old story?” Dipper’s eyebrows raised up a bit higher than most human eyebrows did. “There’s not much to it.”

“Humor me.” Bentley crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head there, face turned towards Dipper. “If you want.”

“I mean,” Dipper said, bending a knee and slinging one arm over it. “It wasn’t on purpose. We—my sister, my friends, my Grunkles and I—were trying to stop a demon from starting the apocalypse. It eventually became the Transcendence, but it was better than it would have ended up. Long story short, I got into a tussle with Bill, the demon, and—somehow, I won. Then everything changed.”

When Dipper didn’t continue immediately, Bentley pressed on gently. “How? Did it change, I mean. For you.”

Dipper hummed and tilted his head. “I guess the best way to describe it is that things stopped and happened all at once to me. Time was—I was always going to look thirteen unless I took it upon myself to look different, for one. The eyes and the wings and the teeth were definitely different. I didn’t used to have gold blood, obviously. I was also just…mentally different.”

Bentley blinked, slow, eyes tired. “Oh.”

“Parts of me were changed completely,” Dipper said. He looked down at the tile at Bentley’s feet. “Bill became part of me even as his soul was excised from the energy that made me become a demon. His proclivity towards formal clothing, the knowledge he had of the universes, his masochistic and sadistic streaks, his disregard for life and his desire for chaos are all a part of me, now. Demons are not kind, and I’m no different.”

“Yes you are,” Bentley found himself saying. “Because otherwise you wouldn’t be in here, helping me.”

“Would I?” Dipper asked. He smiled at Bentley. His face became just a little rounder, eyes just a little wider in his features. “I’m not sure. You are Mizar, after all.”

“Would you care about Mizar if you were just Bill?”

Dipper laughed a little. “Not in any good way, so I guess no. I guess you’re right. Why are you asking, anyways?”

Bentley worried at the inside of his cheek. “Would you say that you’re trapped in a body that isn’t…isn’t yours? That you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror anymore?”

After a second, understanding bloomed over Dipper’s face like the summer sunset outside. “Not often, no,” Dipper said. “Maybe once every few years, at most. But I’ve also had a long time to get used to my situation. It was much worse at the beginning.”

When Bentley didn’t respond apart from looking away, Dipper reached out to slide his hand over Bentley’s cheek, slow enough that Bentley could move away if he wanted to. Instead, Bentley leaned into the warmth of his palm and closed his eyes.

“But it got better,” Dipper said into the quiet of the bathroom. “It got better, and it will get better for you too.”

Bentley tugged his lip inside of his mouth and found himself blinking back more tears. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. I feel like I was stolen from me, you know?”

“I did,” Dipper said. He shifted closer, and Bentley turned to press his face into Dipper’s chest almost eagerly. “And you have a right to feel angry. But it will get better. I promise, it will.”

Bentley wrapped his arms around Dipper, and tried his best to believe that it would.

The sun beat down warm on his skin through his gauzy overshirt and the wide-brimmed sunhat on his head. His hands dug down into the rich earth, moist and cool from the previous day’s summer storm. Bentley pulled away more loose soil from the hole he’d just dug, before tugging the decomposable plastic from the base of the tomato plant and setting it into the ground. He piled cool soil back around it and patted it down just firm enough to hold without restricting. The plant was barely tall enough for the cage—which he picked up and snapped into three-dimensions before setting it down into the ground. It ground, metal against dirt until the lowest ring of it was a mere seven centimeters above the earth. Bentley smiled down at it, then shuffled past a basil plant over to the next spot—the last spot for their tomatoes—and dug in his spade.

“How’s it going over there, Ben?” Torako called from the other side of the house with Dipper.

“Fine!” he said, pushing up his glasses. “How about you?

“It’s going peachy!”

“But you’re planting apples?” He dug a well big enough and deep enough into the ground, and then set the spade aside. He couldn’t help touching the earth with his bare hands, feeling the natural energy of it thrum up into him. It was like he was all the more alive for it. It was—it was rejuvenating.

“Exactly!” Dipper yelled, which either meant that things weren’t going nearly as well, or that they were settling for a weak pun on the basis that peaches were fruits too. There was a clang, and Torako cursed. Bentley set the tomato plant in the ground and piled the dirt over it, shaking his head. Standing, he winced at the crack of his knees before shaking out another cage and setting it down.

“How has it even taken you this long to get that taken care of?” he yelled over. Squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun, he set his dirty hands on his hips and surveyed the small plot they’d just developed. Basil interspersed between tomato, beyond them two lines of carrots. Peppers and chives just beyond those, all the vegetables ringed by a protective barrier of nasturtiums and marigolds. “You just had three trees!”

“Don’t sound so high-horsed, you only planted the tomatoes and nasturtiums today,” Torako hollered back. “Don’t think I don’t see you standing over there like you’re surveying all of your work.”

Bentley laughed, heart light in his chest. A pleasant breeze blew by, sweeping the hem of his overshirt up. He turned around. “Do you need my help over there?”

“Sure,” Torako said, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. She grinned at him, dark eyes warm under the shadow of her arm. “You’ll do more good than Mr. Dipper himself here.”

“Hey!” Dipper protested, feet flat on the ground, eyes white and brown and black and ears rounded. He stuck out his tongue past (slightly too sharp) human teeth at Torako and leaned on the shovel he’d shoved into the ground, gardening glove thick on his hand. “I’m plenty helpful. This casing is just being more difficult than the others.”

“Let me see,” Bentley said, walking over and wiping his hands off on the apron he had on.

Behind him, though he didn’t know it and hadn’t seen it, the magic from inside of him had seeped into the ground. It would travel slowly up into the roots of those plants, soft and imbued with care, the desire to grow and grow well. Those plants would grow into abundance, tomatoes ripening sweeter despite being planted just a little too late, chives taller, peppers longer than they would have otherwise—if only by a little. The marigolds and nasturtiums would bloom brighter and longer. The carrots would dig into the ground, greedy for more until they were pulled up in the fall. The apple tree Bentley helped plant would be just a little hardier than the other two. Torako would look at him slyly, tell him that his green thumb had certainly improved in leaps and bounds and was he sure his hands weren’t magic, before getting a pillow to the face and falling down to the floor laughing. Dipper would cackle and join in, and they would fight until the morning, when Bentley would get up and go to work for his first full day since being kidnapped.

But he didn’t know all that yet, so Bentley went over to Dipper and Torako, took the apple seedling by its base, and tugged the wrapping off in a couple quick motions.

Torako stared. “You really do have magic hands.”

“Oh shut it,” he said, reaching out and smearing his dirty hand down the side of her cheek. She gasped in false affront, hand on her chest. Dipper laughed, Bentley crouched down to set the seedling in the ground and cover it, cool dirt on his hands and the life of the earth trembling up into his skin.

#transcendence au #tau #gravity falls au #bentley farkas #torako lam #dipper pines #featuring bentley's coworkers #hurt/comfort #mostly comfort #magic #fantasy #my fic #fic

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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Run My Mouth (Monet x Monique)- Ortega

a/n: i actively refuse to type the word Momo into existence bc i refuse to associate that fucking horrendous face with these cute af idiots. this is my entry to the fic challenge bc someone wanted Monet x Monique and i wanted out of the Branjie emotion pit! this is filling the cliches 3 (enemies to lovers) and 7 (A has a sexy dream about B) and also is of course a lesbian au bc that seems to be the only currency i deal in. it’s also set within the Just The Game We’re In universe if anyone’s interested, and is also probably horrendously ooc. christ i’m good at selling my fics!! credit where credit’s due, the “holy trinity of why” was stolen from The Thick Of It, the song on Monique’s insta story is Own It by Ella Mai, and “panini head” is stolen from Gordon Ramsay. hope u all enjoy!

Summary: Guardian journalist Monet X Change arrives at the Ministry of Defence to run a piece on Shea Coulee. She didn’t expect to be distracted by a bad-tempered band 1 comms girl who seems intent on driving Monet to distraction entirely through sarcastic remarks, tattoos and acrylic nails.

***

Journalism. What did it all actually mean? When it came down to it, all it was was writing about stuff that happened in the world. All it was was retelling a story. But then nobody ever really seemed to view it that way, Monet thought to herself, as she scuffed one high heel against the rough, sandpaper-like carpet of the lobby and continued to wait.

It was never as simple as just writing, though. Fuck, if that was all journalism was then how many horrific atrocities could have been avoided just through the lack of coverage and platforming alone? There was always an agenda to push despite Monet’s personal feelings on the situation, and she always just had to put up and shut up. For example, today. What Monet really should have been writing about was the Ministry of Defence’s catastrophic overspend, but someone high up in the party (probably Bianca Del Rio, Monet reasoned) had made some sort of deal with Bob to avoid excessive coverage of it. This surprised Monet as, before she’d started working at The Guardian, Bob had been part of Phi Phi O’Hara’s party as their press secretary. Still, even if Monet didn’t know the finer details of how politics worked she knew what a threat or a bribe looked like, so instead of writing about anything juicy or remotely interesting she was here, in the offices of the MOD, waiting on Shea Coulee. Bob had sent Monet out to do some private life piece, some sort of day-in-the-life of a department minister thing that was set to last for a fortnight. Shea would hate it as it meant Monet would be exposed to all sorts of potential party fuck-ups. Monet would hate it because it was a bunch of writing which was of absolutely no consequence. The Guardian’s readers would hate it because it was an article attempting to humanise a politician, and Monet knew people hated those, so there it was. The hat trick of fuck.

She waited dispassionately in the lobby, her heels swinging and scuffing the carpet with every passing second. She didn’t know how long she’d been doing it, or how many times, but there suddenly came a voice from one end of the corridor.

“‘Scuse me, ma'am.”

She didn’t turn around at first. In all honesty, Monet’s ego meant that she thought that anyone in the building would be addressing her by her last name, with a Ms. in front of it. So she kept swinging and scuffing.

The sound of heels came down the corridor. “Ma'am!”

Monet whipped her head around, slightly startled at the louder sound. She was met with a girl- early twenties, she would guess, in a smart black pencil skirt and suit jacket combination with a bright white shirt underneath. Her black hair was pinned up in a neat bun with a few strands helping her fringe frame her face, which was currently set into a scowl. Monet initially thought the girl was there to take her to Shea, however seeing the tray of coffees she was carrying made her second-guess. She frowned up at her from her position on the small sofa-lounger-thing she had been perched on. Monet’s back was already up and she hadn’t even said two words to her.

“Yes?”

The girl’s scowl deepened. “Are you aware that this is a ministerial department?”

Monet bit back a laugh. “Yes.”

“So you know that if you’re waiting here, you can’t sit and wear the carpet out like a pacing bear in a zoo, correct?” a smile finally came over the girl’s face, albeit a fake one. Monet briefly noted her eye makeup- bright and extravagant, a bit much for a day at work but still pretty and expertly applied. She decided to return the fake smile.

“Well thank you so much for that advice! I’m always really keen for pointers on office decorum by girls that look like their makeup was done by a blind toddler playing with dried up poster paints. Now,” Monet sighed lazily, pleased at the way the girl’s jaw had visibly dropped. “can you please make yourself useful and find me somebody that works for Shea Coulee? Because I’ve been waiting here a while.”

The other girl’s face was stony as she addressed her. “I work for Shea Coulee.”

Monet’s heart bunjee-jumped into the pit of her stomach. Shit. Okay, fuck, she didn’t need to panic. She was still holding the coffee tray, so that clearly didn’t indicate a senior position. The other girl’s face was set into a shit-eating smile, clearly happy to have scared her. This only served to rile Monet further. “Well, could you please check that she’s ready to see me? I’m Monet Change, I’m from The Guardian. I’m doing a piece with Ms. Coulee.”

The other girl narrowed her eyes in distaste. Monet noticed that they were deep brown, making them seem huge. “You got an ID?”

Monet rolled her eyes. Briefly, she cast an eye to the girl’s hand. “Are the office coffees not getting cold, tea girl?”

The girl looked briefly as if she’d been slapped in the face. Monet snorted. This was fun. She watched as the girl looked nervously down the corridor, then at the drinks in her hand. Monet almost felt sorry for her, until the girl frowned at her again.

“We’re living under a severe and constant terror threat, Ms. Change, and precautions are precautions,” she pouted, her face like vinegar. She held her hand out and Monet cast an eye over a set of neon green acrylic nails. With a small jump to her heart, she noticed that the nails on her index and middle finger were cut shorter than the others. She looked up at the girl and caught her eye. Another fake smile came her way. “ID.”

“Well how should I know you even work for Shea Coulee? Where’s your ID?” Monet answered back, taking far too much delight in the way the other girl pouted before taking her free hand and sticking her middle finger up in Monet’s face.

“There’s my ID, bitch! Do you want me to go get Ms. Coulee or not?”

“Monique, what the hell are you doing?” came a sudden voice from up the corridor, making the girl jump. A little splash of coffee jumped out from under the lid and landed on her wrist, and Monet didn’t miss the way she hissed a little through her teeth. She felt bad. Turning her eyes up the corridor, Monet saw who the voice was coming from- real and in-person Shea Coulee, with her neat dreads cascading down her shoulders and back and over her red shift dress. She radiated power, and Monet felt suddenly intimidated. The girl opened her mouth to speak, but Shea simply raised a hand and gave a light shake of her head. “I think you’d better get back to the office, don’t you? I don’t think any of us ordered an iced latte.”

The girl nodded sharply and walked briskly down the corridor, but not before she gave one final look to Monet that was mixed with anger, annoyance, and something else she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Ms. Change, isn’t it?” Shea turned back to Monet and held out her hand, smiling as she took it to shake. “Pleased to meet you, I’m excited to be working with you. I have to apologise for Monique’s behaviour, she’s a complete hothead and she shouldn’t even have been interacting with you.”

Monique. It was a nice name.

Monet picked up her bag as Shea began walking down the corridor, quickening her pace to follow her which was tricky in her heels. “So uh, she’s not one of your advisors?”

Shea snorted a laugh. “Please. She’s a junior civil servant. You’ll meet my advisors, they’re just in the office.”

Monet thought for a moment. “So I don’t really need to interact with Monique at all during my time here then?”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about that. You’re not going to be in with the little people,” Shea dismissed her with a wave of her hand as she walked into the bright and airy office space.

Good. It was good that she wasn’t going to be seeing Monique. Following Shea through to her office, Monet’s eyes scanned the room and somehow came to rest on Monique’s brown ones. Monique blinked once in surprise, then gave Monet a nasty look.

She was a total bitch, anyway.

***

Day five, and the end of week one. Monet would be lying if she said the whole thing was as boring as she’d thought it would be. Sure, the actual writing itself was boring. It turned out that a private life piece on Shea Coulee at work unsurprisingly consisted of Shea Coulee doing lots of work. Monet had met her advisors, Asia and Vixen, and they were nice enough girls but they were there to work too. So in lieu of anything interesting to do, Monet had had to invent her own fun.

Which consisted of annoying Monique.

It hadn’t started out like that, Monet always defended herself internally. She’d tried to make amends with her on the first day- stopped by her desk on the way out and asked her how her wrist was, but all she was met with was a wordless sneer. The next day, Monet had made a point of saying good morning to her, again met with no reply. She’d then complimented her hair when she came to Shea’s office to ask about a press release, but the only reply Monet got was a flip of it. So after that, the gloves were off. Monique had had three strikes, and now the bitch was out.

Monet could have just ignored Monique. That would have been the mature thing to do. But something about the girl had got under her skin and niggled away at her, like an annoying splinter. Plus Monet was competitive, and there was a need to get even.

On Tuesday, Monet got teas and coffees for the whole comms team apart from Monique. She didn’t miss the widening of Monique’s eyes then the disappointed pout that followed when she realised there was nothing for her. It made Monet’s skin prickle in satisfaction.

On Wednesday, Monet came into the department and walked up to Monique’s desk. She made sure Monique had locked eyes with her, made to smile at her, then fixed her eyes very pointedly on her cheek and frowned deeply, feigning concern as she walked away. She cast a glance at Monique over her shoulder as she walked away, who was furiously checking her reflection in her phone screen.

Yesterday, they had both been in the kitchen together. Monet had been grabbing a fork for her lunch when Monique had walked in, her eyes darkening upon seeing Monet. Monet felt a slight curl in her stomach when the other girl brushed past her and reached for a teabag, a rich, woody scent clinging to her like the black dress she was wearing.

“Morning, Monique,” Monet smiled, leaning against the countertop and smiling. “Hey, how are Cerberus and Hades this morning?”

Monique cast her a glare. She spoke after a beat of silence. “I don’t follow.”

“Guardians of the underworld?” Monet elaborated, receiving a tight smile in return.

“Oh, cute. Contemporary reference,” Monique bit back, reaching up to take a mug from a cupboard. “Should you not be, you know. Writing? Like an actual journalist? Are you an actual journalist or just a child pretending to be a journalist?”

“As opposed to you, who’s a child pretending to be…an adult?” Monet blinked, delighting in the way Monique visibly tensed up.

“Jesus, I can’t wait til you leave,” she muttered, Monet able to hear the eye roll in her voice. She gave a chuckle.

“Well get used to me, princess, because I’m here til next Friday,” Monet beamed at Monique as she turned around, her gaze frosty and making Monet shiver a little.

“I’m not your princess,” she said, her voice low and dark and giving Monet a small heart palpitation. With a sudden flashback to their Monday meeting, Monet remembered the nails on Monique’s right hand. A shiver ran down her spine.

“No, you’re right,” Monet said, dropping the pitch of her voice to match Monique’s. She took a step forward, closing the space between them. “You’re a little brat.”

Monique’s eyes bored into hers. There seemed to be something hanging in the air. After what could have been seconds or minutes, Monique scrunched up her face and spun around on her heel, leaving Monet on her own in the kitchen.

Monet had gone home and replayed their little confrontation in her head on repeat. It especially taunted her just before she was about to fall asleep, when she was lying in bed in the darkness with a dull throb between her legs that she tried her best to ignore. Monique was attractive, that was just a fact. She had a beautiful face and a little tiny waist and the most amazing legs, and when she wore short sleeved tops Monet could see the tattoos that went all the way up her arms, and she’d always been into tattoos. But Monique was also a total dick. So why was that so hot to her?

Monet found herself turning over in bed, switching the light on, grabbing her phone and typing xvideos into her search bar.

The next day everything seemed to be even more charged between the two girls, although that could have been Monet’s imagination. From the moment she walked into the department she had felt Monique’s eyes on her like a trained sniper, a blush hitting her cheeks that stayed there for most of the morning to the extent that Shea had asked her if she was feeling alright. Monet could hardly concentrate on the departmental she was sat in and was glad of the recorder she’d utilised to catch the meeting, because the only thought that seemed to run through her head was how do I get her alone again?

It turned out she didn’t have to wait very long. Monet was taking a phone call from Bob and she’d ducked into one of the small stationary cupboards to talk to her when Monique came in halfway through, her face curling up when she saw her. Monet’s heart gave a leap and, finding an excuse to finish the phone call earlier than needed, she pocketed her phone and turned to the other girl.

“Looking for some relevance?” Monet asked as she watched Monique bend down and open a cardboard box. The other girl narrowed her eyes at her as she stood up.

“Leave me alone, Monet. I’m serious,” she snapped, Monet crossing her legs together where she stood. Fuck, she could be bossed about like this all day.

“Oh, we on first name terms now? I’m a guest in your department, you should be addressing me properly,” Monet folded her arms and leaned back against the shelves behind her. Monique snorted and quirked a smile.

“Of course, Ma'am. I’m so sorry! Would you prefer Bitch, or Ms. Bitch?” she smiled sweetly. Monet couldn’t help but run her tongue over her bottom lip and then bite it softly, and she didn’t miss the way Monique’s eyes darted to it or the way her stare faltered.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be throwing around that word so casually, Monique, especially since I’m working with your boss.”

“Why are you doing this?!”

Monet exhaled. “Because I’m bored, it’s funny, and I hate you. There you go. The holy trinity of why.”

Then Monet got a shock as Monique suddenly took a step towards her, closing the gap between them in the already tiny cupboard, and if Monet leaned forward she would be able to feel Monique’s body against hers. Her eyes were dark as she scowled at her. “You think you can just walk into this department with your perfect hair and your perfect outfits and your perfect body and just talk shit to everyone after a week?”

Monet held back a gasp as Monique’s expression faltered, almost as if she’d given something away that she shouldn’t have. Her heart gave a jump. She’d really just said all that? Monet touched her caramel curls self-consciously. She looked at Monique from under her lashes. “I don’t talk shit to everyone, just you.”

Monique’s harsh stare was back. “Well you better stop.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll do something I regret,” Monique hissed. Monet blinked. It was so hard to read the situation. She couldn’t tell if Monique was genuinely threatening her, but she seemed to have got closer because Monet could feel the heat of her body just millimetres away from her own. She swallowed thickly. Just then she noticed Monique’s eyes dart quickly from her eyes to her lips and back up again. It made her decision for her.

“Dare you, princess.”

Quicker than Monet could blink, Monique had suddenly closed the minute gap between them, pressed her body up against Monet’s own, and was kissing her with more passion than she’d ever been kissed with before in her life. It was as if Monique’s lips were made of fire, and Monet moaned as she felt her hands tear roughly through her hair. Monet was so stunned that she was almost unable to kiss back, until she felt Monique suck gently on her tongue and lust flood through her whole body. Monet brought her hands, which had been resting on Monique’s waist, up to cup her jaw. Monique noticed the movement and Monet’s heart thudded quickly as she felt Monique take one of her hands in hers, lace their fingers together, and move it from her face down to-

“Monique! You still in there? I found a bunch of staples in the top drawer of- oh,” came a voice- one of the other comms girls, Monet recognised. With a speed that she didn’t think it was possible to move at, she leapt back from the other girl and thanked God that the comms girl on the other side of the door’s entry to the cupboard had been stopped by a huge box full of spiral-bound notebooks that Monique had moved to get better access to what she was looking for.

Monique ran her tongue over her lips and cast her eyes to the floor as she spoke. “Oh, thanks Vanessa! I’ll be out in two seconds, just need a couple more things.”

Monet hadn’t realised she was holding her breath until she released it when she heard the girl walking away down the corridor. Keeping her face neutral, she looked at Monique whose cheeks were dark pink and her eyes embarrassed.

“I should, uh,” Monet began, moving to the door in an effort to ease the awkward tension that had been created.

“Yeah, sure,” Monique nodded furiously, rubbing her forehead with one hand and averting her gaze. Without a second glance, Monet was out the cupboard and walking briskly up the corridor and back onto the meeting room she’d left when she originally took the phone call. Sitting back down in her seat, she was pleased that Shea was already talking so that nobody needed to acknowledge her arrival.

Just when she thought she was off the hook, Asia turned to her and murmured. “Girl, where the fuck did you take that phone call? A hedge?”

She declined to reply.

***

Monet walked into the department on Monday with a cocktail mixer of excitement, nerves, trepidation and readiness being shaken up in her stomach. Her mind had been a complete mess all throughout the rest of Friday, and Monique seemed to have been good at avoiding her because she hadn’t seen her at all for the rest of the day. So Monet had gone home at the end of the day with her head in a spin, her hair still a complete mess, and a burning need to be absolutely railed. She wasn’t able to stop herself from scrolling instagram when she was alone in her flat with a glass of wine, and her fingers were typing in Monique’s full name (which hung on the nametag around her neck each day) before she could stop herself. She found her instantly, and a guilty feeling built in Monet’s stomach as she found herself looking through the girl’s page, gorgeous selfie after gorgeous selfie making her stomach flip over and her palms grow hot. Suddenly, she saw the circle around Monique’s profile picture turn pink. Her thumb hovered over it, unsure if she wanted to graduate to full-blown instagram stalker creep status. Well, she’d come this far.

A mirror selfie of Monique filled the screen, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and out of the ponytail it had been in earlier. She was smiling, and Monet found herself wishing she had that smile directed at her more often. With a pang she noticed that the wine in Monique’s glass was red, matching the crimson liquid in her own glass. As if she was afraid of being caught, Monet tapped off the story and buried her phone underneath one of her couch cushions.

On Saturday, Monet met with her friend Bri for coffee, which was probably a good thing as it would serve to distract Monet from the dream she’d had last night of Monique, perched up on her desk in a black lace bodysuit and high heels talking in extremely explicit detail about what she wanted Monet to do to her. Meeting with Bri would stop her from lying in bed in her own filth masturbating herself into oblivion and obsessively checking Monique’s instagram like a complete loser. On the other hand, all Bri seemed to want to talk about was some French politician she’d slept with whilst she was over there as a correspondent for the BBC during the European Parliamentary elections, and it wasn’t really helping.

“…and like, I’d never really been one for strapons before- because, hello, big dicks usually aren’t really the selling point of lesbianism- but Jesus Christ, Monet, I swear I saw God. In fact, I fucked God. God was her. Hey, panini head, are you even listening to me?”

Monet blinked twice as she tuned back into the conversation. Her friend was staring at her intently, her blonde hair slightly all over the place with how animatedly she’d been telling the story. Not too far away from their table a family of four looked on, horrified.

“Oh my God, Cracker, it’s ten in the morning,” Monet rolled her eyes, utilising the nickname she sometimes hit out with for her friend (“Because I’m thin, white and salty?” “No, because it doesn’t take much for you to snap.“).

“So?! You can’t put a time limit on fucking a hot girl.”

“No, but you can put a volume limit,” Monet raised her eyebrows, as a Dad with a pram walked into the cafe. Bri rolled her eyes.

“Jesus, would you stop being such a prude? You need to get laid,” she sighed, then narrowed her eyes as she saw Monet shift in her seat and cross her legs, the memory of her stationary cupboard encounter flooding back into her head like a tsunami. “Unless you already have…? Monet?”

Monet took a sip of her coffee. She put it back on the saucer and tried to ignore Bri’s piercing eyes. “What?”

Bri jumped back in her seat and almost knocked a tray of tea out of the hands of a woman passing behind her. “Oh my God. You’re not telling me something. Tell me. Tell me now, or I go into more detail about my night with Aquaria Palandrani at double the volume I was using before.”

“How can it get more detailed?!” Monet cried in dismay, then frowned. “Whatever, I don’t want to know. Ugh, there’s nothing to tell, honestly.”

Bri leaned forward in her seat expectantly. Monet rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Look, it’s honestly nothing! It’s just this girl-”

“A-HA! That’s not nothing! That’s a girl!” Bri gasped, excited. “More details, please.”

“You know I’m doing that piece on Shea Coulee for Bob? She works for her department, she’s a comms girl. We didn’t really see eye to eye at first…I mean, I guess we still don’t. But she’s fucking beautiful, and her attitude’s just really hot, you know? Even though it’s meant to make me not like her.”

“Ooh, hate fucking,” Bri gave her eyebrows a little wiggle, causing Monet to slap her on the arm.

“Shut up! I’m trying to get her to like me first.”

“Don’t. Hate fucking’s the best. Did I ever tell you about-”

Monet tuned out again, her mind now occupied by Monique now that she’d been talking about her. She wondered how she would play things on Monday, and how Monique would approach things with her. Even though she would be happy if Monique had had a personality transplant towards her, there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but long for one of her sarcastic clapbacks that drove her absolutely insane.

That night as she tried to write up things for her article, Monet couldn’t help but feel her phone in her jean pocket like an itch she had to scratch. Giving in, she opened up instagram and made her way to Monique’s page again, top in her search history. She saw a new post on her story and her heart gave a thud. Tapping, she was admittedly disappointed to see a song’s cover art pop up on the screen. She was about to tap off again when two emojis caught her eye, with a completely undeniable double entendre- tongue and squirt. The small clip of the song rang out in Monet’s living room before she could even adjust her volume.

“I put the na-na in naughty

Begging for it, got you on your knees

Didn’t make it to the bedroom, but we can do it there too

Whatever’s your fa-”

“Oh my God, fuck off,” Monet yelped involuntarily, throwing her phone out of her hands so that it landed on the sofa cushion beside her. She didn’t know how the hell to interpret that, or if it was even about her, but all she knew was that she was more confused than ever.

***

Monet took a deep breath before she stepped into the offices on Monday morning, straightening her spine and walking in confidently, despite the fact she felt as if her legs were made of jelly. On her way into Shea’s office she passed by the desk that hadn’t been far from her mind all weekend (footage from her dream flashing through her head as she walked past) and out came the simple phrase that she’d rehearsed saying for hours.

“Good morning, Monique,” she said quickly, catching the other girl’s surprised eyes before sweeping past her desk and going straight into the Minister’s room, not giving the other girl a single chance to respond. Her heart beat rapidly all morning as she sat through meeting after meeting, a small triumphant smile on her face.

At quarter past twelve, Monet made her way to the elevators, ready to head out to grab some lunch. She cast her glance to Monique’s desk hopefully, only to find it empty. Her disappointment was short-lived, however, when she walked into the lift and heard the click-clack of high heels running to catch the it before it left. Monet pressed the button to hold it and her stomach flipped over when Monique, wearing a black, calf-length bodycon dress, ran into the lift beside her. She shot Monet a quick glance, then looked up to the ceiling and avoided her gaze. The lift doors closed and it began its journey down the many, many floors towards the lobby.

“Thanks,” Monique said, after a few beats of silence. Monet cleared her throat.

“No worries.”

There was another pause. Monet couldn’t tell where it was going, if anywhere, and the awkward atmosphere built. She tossed some of her honey curls out of the collar of her shirt and rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed.

“So, uh,” Monique spoke up, inspecting her nails. “You have a nice weekend checking up on me?”

Monet felt as if someone had poured a freezing cold bucket of water over her head. She wished she could control the horror that was almost definitely slapped across her face. “What?!”

Monique gave a small smile. “It’s okay, Monet, I know I look good. The least you could’ve done is shoot me a follow, you know?”

Monet wanted the bottom of the elevator to drop off so she could fall directly down the lift shaft.

“I wasn’t…oh my God,” she trailed off, realising there was no way she could explain her way out of this one. She placed both her hands on her face, covering her eyes. “How did you-”

“You know it tells you who views your stories, right?” Monique’s voice came, a slight laugh to it that served to make Monet feel both more and less embarrassed. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us.”

Monet couldn’t muster a reply. She didn’t even think she could take her hands off her eyes.

“I mean, I gotta admit. I had a lil’ sneak on yours too,” the other girl said quietly, causing Monet to finally take her hands off her eyes and look at Monique who was leaning lazily against the bar on the lift. “You look like a snack when you’re not in those work clothes, girl.”

Ohhh, shit.

Monet tossed her hair over her shoulder and smirked at Monique. The conversation was finally going down the route she wanted, and she found herself squeezing her thighs together in anticipation. “I don’t know, baby, you seemed pretty keen on me when I was in them too.”

She watched as Monique laughed, looked up at the ceiling again, and shook her head. “That was a necessary step I had to take to stop you running your fuckin’ mouth, and it worked.”

Monet tilted her head as Monique finally made eye contact with her. She bit her lip and shrugged. “Can’t have worked that well, ‘cause I’m still talking.”

Monique smiled smugly, taking a single step towards her. “And what?”

Monet blinked, taken aback. “Well. Maybe you need to shut me up again.”

Monique twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Is this a big, powerful, high-up Guardian journalist begging a Band 1 Civil Servant to make out with her in an elevator?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Monet laughed, feeling the heat between her legs build up as Monique came to a stop beside her, deliberately standing a little too close. “You’re a bitch. Fuck, no, I’m not begging.”

“Mm, you wanna beg me so bad,” Monique smiled teasingly, and Monet had never wanted a lift to break down more in her life. Turning quickly so that she had one arm on either side of Monique and effectively trapping her, Monet saw a quick, wicked flash in the other girl’s eye as she leant in and dropped her voice.

“I bet I could make you beg me to do a lot of things.”

Monique flashed her a look from under her lashes. “Like what?”

The lift suddenly stopped and the doors slid open, making Monet flinch and Monique jump beside her. To her relief, nobody was waiting to walk in and she couldn’t help but laugh, the other girl rapidly joining in. After a few seconds, Monet realised they had to get out of the elevator and so she reluctantly walked out, Monique following behind her. Now that the moment had been shattered, it was back to being slightly awkward, but Monet really didn’t want to lose what they’d just created. She found herself stopping abruptly, turning around to face Monique who had stopped beside her and was gazing at her hopefully.

“Hey. Do you want to grab lunch just now?” she asked, her heart soaring as she saw Monique’s smile grow wider and more beautiful.

“Sure,” she beamed, Monet smiling back and feeling like a total lovesick idiot.

They started walking again. “Where do you wanna go?”

Monique ran her tongue over her teeth and shrugged. “Well…my flat’s five minutes away and my flatmate isn’t home.”

Without missing a beat, Monet took Monique’s hand and led her out of the building, part of her hoping she would be able to shut Monique up and part of her really not wanting to.

#rpdr fanfiction #monet x change #monique heart #monet x monique #lesbian au #oneshot #fic challenge #run my mouth #ortega #rare pair #s10

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fortunei · 5 years ago

Text

[#3] [#4] hilda/lys, AU

a/n: experimental vampire AU with a world where vampire needs “official” donor.

hilda/lysithea

The first thing to do when a new vampire moved out to a new town, is applying for donor request at the Blood Bank.

The system of ‘Blood Bank’ and ‘donor for vampires’ might look absurd at first, knowing how vampires have been a food for many gruesome tales within generations with its somehow unquenchable blood thirst and yadda yadda for roman stuffs. Then again, the system allowed the vampire race to stay in harmony with humans, a mutualistic symbolism, if one may add. Frequent blood donor is proven to make body healthier, though, such frequency should only be done to a human that passed the criteria handed down by the Ministry of Health and Welfare.

“I see that you’ve applied for the donor request yesterday after your arrival,” Edelgard, sipping on her favorite Bergamot tea. Still dressed in her full black Fodlan’s Officer attire, she answered Lysithea’s quick summon for a middle-night tea time.

As much as vampire of this era can endure sunlight, they will find the night as unmentioned luxury. Perhaps it is in their genes, despite how the bodily trait changes and adapt to the coming era. Vampires easily mingle and become one with society, no longer feared and much worshiped. Some vampires even no longer has an affinity to garlic or holy water. Also, vampires can taste and ingest human food – though it would not convert as a better energy source than drinking blood.

“Your poster is already up on the main board of Blood Bank request. It shouldn’t take too long until a suitable donor is found.”

“Isn’t it kind of strange, don’t you think? With all the technologies around us, they still bothered to tuck the paper on a board. Beside the large, floating hologram board of information database, nonetheless!”

Lysithea quipped. She swiped another chocolate chip cookie from the top of the dessert tray. She checked on her phone on the table once, as the notification dot blinked furiously. Turned out, it is just another scam message, not an e-mail from the Blood Bank.

Blood Bank may hold the database of vampires available in national scope, but they could not pinpoint a new donor right away when someone moved out from one place to another. As long as the vampire has filled out the papers and posted the donor request at the Blood Bank, usually the Bank staffs will notify the vampire as quick as they can, or so they compromised.

“Well, forgive my city’s antics. It’s just my uncle who didn’t want to ditch that ancient board.” Edelgard bowed her head down slightly, though a smile played on her lips.

Actually, Edelgard is not exactly the owner of the city, it’s just that she hold a high rank on the city’s council. By Edelgard request, Lysithea is relocated there from Fodlan’s Branch Office of Derdriu to The Old Capital to collect up records of vampires as a Librarian. There can be any other Librarian beside her, but then Edelgard will always butter her up saying ‘You’ll do great here working alongside me’ or something close to the line.

“How’s your first days at The Old Capital, then?”

Lysithea found herself scrunching her forehead first before responding on Edelgard’s question.

“The Librarian here is quite strict, though I admire their thoughtfulness as I have yet to fit in their schedules. Well, I guess I should blame Lorenz for making everyone seems so carefree and wanted to get a free teatime with him ever-so-often.” Lysithea eyed Edelgard, who looked pleased at the good mention of her subordinates.

“It was nice working with them.”

When Edelgard took another delightful sip to her tea, this time Lysithea’s phone vibrated. The screen lighted up with an unsaved caller number on the top. Lysithea swiped the button to green, answered almost automatically.

“—we have confirmed your donor. The person will like to meet you two days from now at the Blood Bank around noon.”

Lysithea scrambled to seek her small planner rested beside the tea and cakes. She was waiting Edelgard earlier while scribbling her schedule of next week. Two days from now is Saturday, a weekend. She got a Librarian shift at the morning till noon. A perfect time.

“Yes, I can arrange the meeting with my donor. May I know of their identity?”

“We are sorry, but the needed documents are still on process. We can give you on the spot by the same day.”

“I see.”

Lysithea’s answer tinged with disappointment, but it cannot be helped in either way if the documents were not ready. Edelgard waited, hand supported her chin as Lysithea listened some more of the direction by the staff and finally the phone call ended.

“Well, I hope this new donor of yours won’t be as worse as your … former ones.” Edelgard mused.

Resting her back on the cafe's big chair, Lysithea sighed, despite the words being one kind of an encouragement rather than a sarcastic remark. “Hopefully so.”

x x x

Lysithea has always been a person who’s on the clock in any kind of appointment. While it couldn’t be helped that she missed the time when she is supposed to meet her supposed-to-be donor because of her own job, Lysithea couldn’t erase the dread welling up inside her.

One of the Librarian called out because of sudden sickness, so there’s only three Librarians doing the job in this fine Saturday. The Librarian’s main job is to collect ‘Archives’, an old history records to vampires and other supernatural creatures, rechecked its viability, cross-examined the sources, then putting out to the sea of database for next batch of checking until it can be available as a True Archive. Sometimes, the Librarian also took a job on translating excerpts for specific customers, since only Librarian can understand almost all old phonetic code across all races.

The technology and science might have surpassed everything in the civilization. Then again, there are many things that required human power and traditional ways.

After finishing her commissioned excerpt, Lysithea bowed the other two workers goodbye, re-stating that she is in hurry because she is going to meet her donor. The other two are happened to be human, by the way, not all Librarians should be a supernatural creature.

With a spring in her step, Lysithea took the road with most shades toward the Blood Bank, which is not exactly far from The Living Library of the Old Capital of Enbarr located. Before entering the Blood Bank, she pulled her slack pale violet cardigan close to her chest. She was sure to leave her ID card away at the workplace so no one will happen to scan or identify her by default.

Just as the name suggested, ‘Old Capital’ is a historic town with most of the historical tall brick buildings and ruins of fortress intact aside of two other big cities. Derdriu, the city where Lysithea originally been, have a lot of water-based tourism attraction aside with its skyscraper, also with popular virtual theme park infamous to all Fodlan. It is so pale in comparison.

Blood Bank is always crowded, 24/7, even more crowded than how a regular human hospital is in the dead of night. The counter clerks are mostly automatic answer machine, but there will always be vampire clerks on duty. Blood Bank is operated by vampires, though it is a mandatory for a normal human to know how it works as human is their main patron. Vampires only visit there occasionally for donor request and donor cancellation.

Unsure what to do when she arrived, Lysithea steered to one standing clerk beside the large floating hologram board.

“Excuse me, I’m the applicant number #4455484. I heard that I’d be meeting my donor today.”

“Ah, right. Please wait as I checked the registry,” the clerk accessed the menu with her smartphone. Lysithea waited as directed, clacking her soles on the parquet flooring, silently count on how long it will take for an answer.

“Your donor is waiting for you at the waiting lounge … and now, she is right behind you.”

“Behind m—“

Lysithea froze as she turned, greeted by a cheerful ‘Hi’ and an assault of hug. As though they are in friendly basis even though they haven’t ever met. She wrestled away from the surprise hug, flustered. She gave the human a strange look, but she didn’t flinch, just smile wide – a patronizing, welcoming smile.

This human has a straight pink hair donned in peak twintails. She wore something … fancy? Flashy trench coat top in bubblegum pink-ish color? An outdated vampire with no taste of fashion couldn’t describe it well. It’s like, something out of the shop’s aisles that just been there for less than a day and swiftly bought.

Overall, what is striking to Lysithea on the first impression is her scent. And her arm muscles. And her rack. Wait. She shouldn’t be thinking about the last one.

“Oh, gosh. I was about to ask the clerk of where the heck is the requester was. Been pacing the room all the time thinking whether I’ve been fooled~”

“Sorry, work got in the way.” Lysithea explained.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I don’t mind the wait,” she winked. “So, when we can start?”

Lysithea blinked at the question, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

As if on a cue, the said human flashed her neck, Lysithea jaws dropped. She can see the nape that’s once concealed. She can see the pale, supple skin. She can- “What are you talking about? Isn’t it the sip time?”

No. Lysithea. Get yourself together! Her inner self screamed. “W—Wait. No. Not so fast. And no. We don’t drink d-d-directly from humans!”

“Huh, you don’t?” she tilted her head.

The snow-haired vampire felt the urge to slap her forehead, “Is, is this your first time to donor? Don’t you read the guide book first?” she shot another clueless, innocent face, and Lysithea gave up.

“We vampires only asked you of blood when necessary, which is at most once a month, given in that bag we provided. The bag will need to be sent to Blood Bank, where we can retrieve it.”

The human did seem to pay attention and she didn’t interrupt when Lysithea said her piece. Let's consider that she understand the terms of service, then.

“This meeting is just a mandatory.” Lysithea ended her short speech, a groan from the back of her throat should be audible enough to exemplify her annoyance.

“Eh? Why? Aren’t we supposed to get to know the vampires? It is there in the guide, if I remembered correctly.”

“How, how can you give me more headaches just in a span of a minute?” Lysithea scoffed. They sure have caused a scene, and she is sure that the clerk behind them is watching … quietly. She is not wrong, however. There is indeed a passage in there for the donor and recipient to be well-acquainted. Lysithea didn't think being so friendly with the human donor will get to anywhere, though.

“That’s … just how the things are.”

The human made a long hum, unknown of affirmation or of confusion. Those garnet eyes rolled momentarily before she clapped her hands together. A Eureka bested in her, maybe.

“We should just go for the unorthodox way, then!” Lysithea knotted her brows even more. “I know a good place down the road that you may like. We can chat over for lunch, I’m hungry!”

“Wait, I haven’t agreed—“

“Come on, vampire!”

"I haven't catch your name yet."

"It can wait! I don't want to miss the restaurant's special Risotto so chop chop!"

[Oh, how she wished for Edelgard to be there, watching her to perish in yet another unfortunate encounters.]

#noseforsatu #wrt #hilda valentine goneril #lysithea von ordelia #hildalys #disaster vampire donor AU

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