#it’s a chain business (but a lot of the bad things were said about the bigger stores and this one is much smaller) so I’m just torn if I

[sadgirlautumn]

So today in job struggles my mom heard from someone that this one job I was considering is hiring but I’d have to go through indeed first and I kept telling my mom that it’s not listed on indeed and I just checked and it’s still not listed. I need to bite the bullet and walk down there to see what’s up but I find the whole process so embarrassing and since I dropped out of school I never learned anything about job interviews/application stuff and my parents are really lucky and haven’t had to do either of those things in decades and I’m just overwhelmed 🙃

[poisonofthepaint]

Day After Tomorrow - Part Three

a/n: this is the final part!! i really loved writing this story and i love jack so pls send in some ideas for him. hope u love it baiii

pt 1 pt 2

18+!!!!!! MDNI

content warning: age gap, awkward reader a little. oral (r!receiving), nipple sucking, p in v sex, i really don't know what else but this is pretty filthy LOL. i didn't have a lot of time to proofread so forgive me pls <3

Saying you were nervous for your date was an understatement. You’ve had your share of first dates, but you were certainly rusty at the moment. You’ve always been too busy to really deal with your love life. Between school, and your absurd hours at work, it only really left you about two hours a day of free time to yourself. And God, you were not gonna let some random person get in the way of those two hours.

But Jack wasn’t a boy. He was a man. He was a grown man. With a stable job, and a 401k, and real insurance, definitely not his parents. And at this point, you were quite scared the age gap was going to be a problem. You were mostly scared you were going to say something stupid in front of him. You knew you were far from unintelligent. You excelled in your degree, you had a lot of common sense, and humor! Which is proven to show intelligence. But in all honesty, you haven’t taken a science class since your freshman year of undergrad. The information from anatomy class had fallen so far out of your brain you’re pretty sure it still haunted your first dorm room. You didn’t know how to talk about his line of work with him, you didn’t know anything about emergency medicine. And that scared you, deeply. You have been so wrapped up in your philosophy groups, where everyone always knew what the other was talking about, that you weren’t sure how to learn something brand new anymore.

Maybe that was the most exciting part, though. The idea of opposites attract, like the movies. Yeah, it was exciting, not nerveraking. You had read recently that anxiousness and excitement caused the same physical symptoms, so you tried to trick your brain into being excited. You were excited. You had been looking forward to seeing him since he sent the first text. 

You texted back right away, of course, telling him that you’d be delighted to accompany him to dinner. He asked for your address, and said he’d pick you up, which was the most gentleman-like act you’ve experienced in years. Or so you thought, because before you know it, there’s three small raps at your door. You check your phone, seeing the time is 5:47. There’s also a text from Jack saying that he was on his way, you had missed it in your whirlwind of getting ready. You move towards the door quickly, turning the creaky knob. 

He looks good— unreasonably good. He has on a tight fitted black henley, a pair of nice, fitted jeans, and some black tennis shoes. You don’t know how casual attire makes him look so sexy, but it does.  A silver chain glints in the light, and you think you may faint. You’re so taken aback by his attractiveness, you don’t even see the bouquet of tulips that he’s holding out to you.

Jack stands there, letting you take him in. He's got a smug little smile on his face. “Hi there. These are for you. I was hoping you would just have a vase?” 

You nod, words not forming quite yet. “Can I come in?” he asks softly.

“Yes! Sorry, yes, yes, come in. Excuse the mess.” your apartment was spotless, but it just felt like the right thing to say. It’s what people said when they had guests, and your dialogue was being reduced to factory settings. 

“Nice apartment,”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad.” you grab a vase from under the sink, filling it up halfway with water. You make quick work of cutting the stems off the tulips before plopping them in the water.

“Are you ready to go after that?”

Your heart thumps in your chest, so hard you can feel it in your throat. “Yeah, I am.”

“You’re less talkative today,” he says. Not prying, just observing. He looks at you like he’s assessing you for symptoms.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe you’re standing in my apartment.”

He smiles, “Still think you’re dreaming me up?”

“Maybe a little,”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you how real I am tonight.”

You gulp at the innuendo, unsure if it was even supposed to be an innuendo, but that's definitely the way you were taking it.

Jack catches your eyes and nods his head towards the door before walking over, leading the way. You follow his suit instinctively. 

His car is a nice, black truck, and the inside is spotless. Not that you thought it would be dirty, but it’s unrealistically clean. Almost like he just bought it. You hear a soft talking over the radio, no, it’s something else.

He sees you trying to locate the noise, “It’s a police scanner, if there’s an emergency coming into the hospital I like to know so I can go help.” he blinks at you, recognizes the words coming out of his mouth, “Does that make me a crazy workaholic?”

You belly laugh, “God, no, I mean if people need help, it’s good you want to help.”

“I do like to help.”

“You really love it, don’t you?”

“I do, I think what I do is some of the most important work in the world, and I’m good at it. And I like being good at things.”

You hum in response, “Definitely very important work,”

“What do you like about philosophy?”

“I just think it’s an interesting study on human nature. I like applying philosophies I agree with to my personal life, or putting them on other people. I like sharing how to think one way instead of another. I just like to think, maybe.” you say, frazzled. No one really asks you why philosophy. They just hear that it’s your degree, and move on.

“I like that. The world needs more people who fucking think.” he says. His eyes are glued to the road, he has one hand on the wheel, and one resting on the gear shift. His fingers softly tap to their own rhythm.

“How many stupid people do you deal with in a day?” 

“More than I would like to admit. I’m sure you get your fair share.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to treat them for six hours while they tell me I’m wrong about life saving practices.”

He nods sharply, “This period of time is certainly an interesting one. I don’t know why half of them even come in, they just sit there and refuse treatment.”

You shake your head, “I change my answer. I’m getting a philosophy degree so I don’t have to deal with the general public.” 

It’s his turn to belly laugh, “I don’t blame you, kid.”

You get dizzy from the nickname. The car settles into a comfortable silence. You continue your drive until you pull into a small, nice Italian restaurant.

Jack puts the car in park. You go to reach for the handle and he scoffs, “Stay in.”

He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. You want to cry, you still think he’s fake. You get out, try to pretend like your hands aren’t shaking. He closes the door behind you, then grabs your hand. The contact sends sparks right up your arm, just like the first time he grabbed the coffee up from you. You thought shit like that was fake, but it was real, this was real.

The dinner goes perfectly. The conversation flows. Jack is a lot less abrupt when he’s not in the middle of a shift. He tells you stuff about his personal life, about his parents, and even a little bit about the war. He talks to you about medical supplies he thinks are changing the future. And he lets you talk. He genuinely cares what you have to say. He never looks at you like your degree is anything less than his. He even looks blown away at some things. The owner of the restaurant comes over at one point. You learn that he and Jack served together. You feel honored to meet someone Jack knows already. The date is all you could have wished for– it was better than a dream. Jack was real, and he enjoyed your company. You could tell on his face. The creases between his eyebrows went away, and his smile lines got deeper. He was mysterious when you met him, but now, you felt like you already knew him, and how to read him.

The drive home is equally perfect. Jack cracks the windows a little, letting in fresh air. You feel the wind hit your hair lightly. He won’t stop looking over at you. His hand twitches towards you on the gear shift, and you reach out for it without thinking. He glances down, and then back up at you. He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. You rest your sewn together hands on your lap, studying his rough hand. 

Of course, he walks you to your door. You lead the way, and you can hear him trailing behind you, slowly, cautiously. 

You unlock the door and turn to look at him, “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” he smiles.

You linger in the doorway, not wanting the night to end. “Did you have a good time?”

His eyes soften at you, “Yeah, I had a real good time. Best time in a while.” Your breathing falters. “I’d really like to kiss you.” Jack says.

You still, then nod, you can tell your eyes are wide and glazed over. 

“I’m gonna need some words, sweetheart.” 

“I would like that.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He approaches you. Grabs your cheek, gives it a gentle rub with his thumb before leaning down. He lets his nose rest on yours for a second, taking you in. He’s so close, his chest bumps yours when he breathes in. He closes his eyes and closes the space between you. It’s soft at first, it’s kind. It’s– alert. You can’t help yourself. You need more. You make the move to deepen it and that’s all he needs. He presses into you, so hard that you enter your apartment. He’s so fucking smooth, you can’t stand it. You try not to think about all the practice he’s had, probably before you were even a concept in your parents head. He closes the door with his back before spinning you around and pushing you against the wooden entrance. You grab his face, pulling away from him. Jack chases your lips, but when you turn away, he starts placing soft kisses on your neck instead. 

“I want you to know,” you say panting, “I never do this on the first date.”

He chuckles into you, “This is our third date.”

“What?” you say, breathless, because he’s kissing a tender spot right under your jaw that’s driving you crazy. 

“Those times I saw you at the coffee shop. Those were our first dates.” You know he’s just talking to make you feel better, but it’s definitely working. “Don’t worry about it, no judgement here.” 

“You got it, Doc.” Jack stills. You think you fucked it. You curse yourself for making the corny joke.

He removes himself from your neck. Standing back to his full height. You try to not make eye contact, but his eyes chase yours, forcing you to. “Do you know how fucking crazy it makes me when you call me that.”

“No,” you choke out. 

“I’ve never even been into that. Never cared. But the first time you called me that, I almost broke. I thought about it the rest of the day.”

“And the second time?” you quip, playing into his games.

He shakes his head, places his forehead on your chest, “Killing me, baby.”

You look down, and see how hard he is. His bulge is straining against his jeans. 

He stands up again, “What do you wanna do, huh? Wanna keep playing games, or you wanna let me get you off?” 

The bluntness of his statement– and eagerness– makes you feel like your heart has dropped to the bottom of your stomach. “The latter,”

“Say it,” he says.  You shift on your feet, look straight down into the carpet. “I’m not gonna do it until you say it.”

“I want you to get me off.”

“Yeah, you do.” He kisses you again, deep, and hard. Your tongues clash. “Bedroom?” he asks.

You push off the door and start leading him to the back corner of the apartment. You thank yourself for picking up all the outfit options that you previously had sprawled on the ground. 

You let yourself fall onto the bed, moving back until your head hits the headboard. Jack doesn’t miss a beat, he follows you all the way back, never removing his lips from yours. He settles his hips between yours, and you feel the bulge instead of seeing it. He softly grinds into you, just once, just to make sure you know how you’re making him feel. He has a hand gently resting on your throat, just to stabilize himself. You remove it and lead it down, you put it under the dress you had on. You knew you were soaked through, and this is how you were gonna show him what he was doing to you. 

He groans into your mouth, “I have to taste you.”

You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t ask for words this time, just settles himself onto his stomach. You move down on the bed so your head can rest on the pillows. He doesn’t bother taking off your dress, just bunches it above your hips. He stares for a second, taking in the wet spot on your panties. Your hand moves an inch, going to take them off, but Jack grabs your wrist, presses it into the bed. He leans in and puts his tongue flat on you, through your underwear. 

“Shit!” you squeak. Your ears ring. Fucking doctors, of course he’d be able to find the clit while you had underwear on, while everyone else you’ve been with, you’ve had to show them. 

He grunts into you. Like he’s going crazy himself. Finally, he taps your hips, signalling for you to lift them. Of course, you do. “Already so good at following orders.”

The dominance leaking from his voice sends a wave of arousal through you. You imagined he would want to be in charge in bed, but he was so confident about it. It wasn’t shit he learned from watching too much porn— fake dominance that’s played up for the video. It was natural, it was who he was. 

You can’t find words to answer him, you just keep following his orders, trying to make him proud.

“Y’sure you want this?” Jack triple checks. 

“Please,” you’re breathless, already fucked out just from kissing him. 

He doesn’t say anything, just places his tongue flat on your pussy, licking a long strip all the way to the top.

You moan, louder than your neighbors would prefer. Jack is so good at it, you go back to thinking you’re dreaming. It’s absurd how good it feels. He knows all the right spots to hit, all the places only you could ever find. But he found them, and he’s claiming them. You feel like you’re becoming his. He teases a digit at your entrance and you preen, giving him permission. He sinks it in and curls it. He sets a steady pace that falls in alignment with how vigorously he’s eating you out. 

You already feel yourself getting close. You’ve never come this fast before— ever. Not even when you were doing it yourself. You can’t believe Jack is gonna beat your personal best. 

“You’re close,” he says into you. The vibrations go all the way up from your pussy to your brain. 

“Yes, I don’t know how, but yes. Please, I wanna come.” you ramble.  

“Give it to me, I wanna see you fall apart, honey.” He adds a second finger and your back arches up off the mattress.

You squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see white instead of black. He works you all the way through your orgasm, “That’s it, good girl. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open. This man and his need for eye contact. He wants to see everything. He wants to read you. And he does. His brows furrow at your face. He looks down at your body. Still in that dress that drove him crazy when you opened the door. 

He’s still letting his fingers pump inside of you when you come back to Earth. He stills them and pulls them out. You whine a little, he shushes you.

He makes sure you’re watching when he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking off the juices he just got out of you. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

Your face goes hot, you try to look away but Jack’s too quick, again. It’s like he knows what you’re gonna do before you do it. He grabs your jaw. “Haven’t you figured out I wanna see you?”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Then stop running.”

You huff out a breath. You lean up to kiss him again and he lets you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it’s hotter than you thought it could be. You’re under his spell. Hopefully he really likes you, because you think you might follow him around forever now. 

You give up being coy, “I need you. Please, I need you, Jack.”

“Okay, you’ve got me. Don’t worry, honey,” he says.

You sit up and pull your dress over your head, unclasping your bra after. Jack takes his shirt off too. You lay back down and let your legs fall open. He hesitates before taking off his pants. You can sense he’s nervous. He takes the jeans off, and you see it. He looks at you, like he expects you to run. Like he expects the worst.

“Please,” is all you say. And that’s all it takes. Jack takes off his boxers, and his cock slaps up onto his stomach. It’s so long, the tip hits right below his belly button. 

He climbs up onto the bed, your legs open wider for him. You throw Jack a condom from your bedside table and he puts it on quickly. He lines himself up, the tip kisses your entrance. Jack comes up to where your head is, pressing his forehead against yours. He breathes into the space between you for a second, then, he sinks in.

It’s deep, really deep. So fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He strokes so that he hits your g-spot, and he can tell he got it by the way you moan. It was more a sob, really He places his mouth on your nipple, slightly tugging with his teeth. He plays with it for a while before giving the other one the same attention. All while not breaking his pace. It felt so, fucking, good. 

“So good, it feels so good.” you decide to tell him, to talk. You wanted to hear his voice.

“You feel so good. You’re sucking me in, baby. God, this pussy is even better than I imagined.” His chain dangles in your face, and you think you might be getting hypnotized.

“You thought about this?” you ask, trying to conceal your need for praise.

“For the past week, I’ve fucking thought about sinking my cock into you. You’re so beautiful. You’re so funny, and smart. You’ve got it all, baby. You’ve fucking got it all.”

The words send you reeling, “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long.”

“Me neither.” He grunts. 

His head falls into your neck. He places a deep kiss there, leans up to your ear. “Come around my cock, sweetheart.”

You weren’t one to disobey his orders. You come for the second time that night and Jack follows. He groans into you and lets his chin hit your shoulder. “Fuck,”

You both stay there like that for a while. Sweating, panting, coming down from the high of your life. 

“I’m gonna pull out, okay?” 

You nod, let him do whatever he wants. You’re so fucked out you don’t know if you can even open your eyes. 

He tosses the condom into the small trash bin beside your closet and grabs his boxers off the floor, putting them on before laying down beside you. 

You look over and smile at him. You can’t stop smiling actually, or giggling. 

Jack brushes your hair out of your face, “What’s so funny, hm?”

“That was so fucking good.” 

Jack laughs, loudly. The loudest you’ve heard his laugh yet. “Yeah, it was so fucking good.” 

You start to get shy, the highness of your orgasm wearing off, “I’d like to see you again, if you want.”

“Oh, honey. After that? You’re never getting rid of me.”

[moon-ttokki-x]

stylist!reader x seungmin or jeongin??? any scenario!!

hi hi~ i needed more seungmin and jeongin requests . . . been wanting to write for them so bad but i couldn't think of anything lol . anyway, here you goo~~~

₊✩‧₊�� stylist!reader x kim seungmin ˚₊✩‧₊

pairing: stylist!reader x kim seungmin

summary: being seungmin's stylist has its perks (mostly)

genre: idol!au, stylist!au, cheeky boy, soft and fluffy, mentions of jyp (yes that needs a warning), please bring back doberman seungmin he was my fav :(

a/n: sorry idk who made this divider . . . if it was you lmk so i can tag and credit u <3

skz masterlist

you have to drag him everywhere

like by his literal collar

or whatever it is that he's wearing

bc this man does not want to walk

like

anywhere

drag him to the mirror, drag him behind a curtain to fix his outfit

it never ends

and he moves around a lot too while you're doing his makeup

more than once you've gotten chan to hold his jaw shut so you can powder it or fix up his contour

and he always stares at you while you do it

with his little meanie face

you know the one he makes where he's trying to be scary but it doesn't work on anyone so he's just like >:|

yeah that one

complains a lot about his appearance to piss you off

'i don't like the eye makeup' 'i hate this shirt'

it never ends but you're used to it so he kind of gives up after a while

when you got assigned to him, he would stare into your eyes while you were doing his makeup to try and make you fumble

bc let's be honest no one could focus if kim seungmin was staring into their soul

but you got used to that too and now you just ignore it

you always get him to tell you how he's feeling on a certain day so you can sort of match his outfit and makeup to his vibe

if he's in a good mood, lots of scarlet reds and brighter colours

if he's just neutral, then dewy pinks and purples

and if he's having a bad day, lots of metallic silver and black

of course his appearance still has to match the other members' vibes

but you always try to make it a little more special

seungmin would never admit it but he appreciates that so much

most of your job is just looking for him to be honest

like man literally disappears and gets distracted by the tiniest things

there's a bird outside? gone

hyunjin has his back turned and is therefore vulnerable to attack? gone

there's no reason for him to go anywhere?

gone

you've debated putting a tracker in his outfit like a literal dog but you decided against it because it's like playing hide and seek

which is kinda fun

usually he's busy doing something random or looking out the window

or pissing his members off

if worst comes to worst and you can't find him, you just threaten to call chan and he materialises out of thin air

which is kinda funny

and when he won't stay still to let you fix his outfit, you threaten to dress him like jyp

that always works lmao

he just goes absolutely rigid and his eyes go all wide

'please don't'

and you'll just fix his collar or his boots or whatever and off he goes again

multiple times you've told him to put accessories on before he goes on stage

but he always forgets

you've had to drag him backstage countless times before the group went on to perform bc he's forgotten to do what you said

you'll have super steady and nimble hands after a while bc trying to clip a chain necklace on a hyped-up puppy boy is one of the hardest things

like ever

he's just raring to go lol

always runs up to you after performing all sweaty and excited

'did you see me? when i did that move'

or something along those lines

he truly is so soft and sweet but he'll never admit it

and you'll nod and he's have the biggest shiniest prettiest boy smile on his face

stop i'm sad

most of the time he sweats all of his makeup off

and then sheepishly bows to you and apologises for ruining all your hard work

but you shake your head and tell him with a smile that it's fine

and it is, really

he looks hotter when he's all sweaty

huh? what

i didn't say anything

yes i did

after he's warmed up to you

and it takes a while, i'm gonna be completely honest

he refuses to let anyone else do his hair, makeup, or outfit

he just wants you

because you always make sure he can dance properly in his outfit, and that his hair isn't in his eyes, or that he likes his makeup

you would never make him wear anything that makes him uncomfortable either

you're always asking for his input on certain outfit ideas and he tells you honestly what he thinks

and you just take his feedback and make outfits for him that he'll be comfortable in

which makes him swoon for you

again, he would never say anything to you about how he's starting to feel

maybe one day, he thinks he might be able to

until then, he'll settle for looking at your pretty face while you do your thing <3

a/n: yomg i wanna be a skz stylist so baddd (seungmin if ur reading this one chance pls)

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[mothking-rising]

Got a rude response from someone I reblogged from so I'm making my own post about Ice Flight because um--

Hey Ice Flight can be pretty cool actually and be different from the rest of the flights, and this post is gonna be my two cents about it. I've seen people go around just summing it up as "cops" when just like every other Flight they can be so much more?

While first, I do agree that Ice’s aesthetic is kinda weak as is. Not a lot you can do with the same winter themes over and over with the occasional broken chain motif. I’d love to see people get creative to what they think Ice represents and how they contribute to Sornieth’s systems, cultures, and dragons as a whole.

I see ice flight specializing in stuff like collection and cataloguing as iirc before the map update it said those were things Ice Flight likes. I think where Earth is Uncovering What Was, Ice is about Preserving What Is.

They’re not entirely just cops (and even then stripping them to just the role of "cop" is a bad take). They’re also researchers of the things they fear, and of relics that need studying. In my head Ice would probably have the best museums, archives, and storage houses. What better way to preserve or trap something than in ice?

They’re a flight of Order, not so much in the sense of cops and law but a flight that bulks when there’s a sense of disorder or chaos, disorganization, and imperfection. If it’s uncategorized, unsorted, then it needs to be so in order to be learned. Where Lightning is stats and progression, Ice is pattern recognition (Tundra’s memory being linked to their smell may also reflect this) and tradition (Gaolers role system and lack of awareness about the state of Sornieth and not just the Ice Fields).

This can be extended then into interests, individual home cultures, businesses and what not. Why not start a collection of rocks? Or insects? They’d know best how to preserve it. Need something specific from the shop? Probably very easy to find if you know the qualities and traits you’re looking for. Need something preserved for safe keeping? They’ll do that, and they’ll do it awfully well. Perfectly. The systems have to be perfect. The line up has to be perfect and up-kept and looked after intensely— possibly so intense it’s evolving into passion. There can certainly be a sense of pride.

Combine with the lore that Ice is typically more hostile to outsiders due to their melting home I can see them being much more traditional and closed off. Not quite isolated, but having a more unique culture that’s a little more closed off from others and not quite as shared, trying to preserve what is left of their home and traditions.

What about urban legends and superstition? They’re guarding creatures and horrors in those prisons, surely the local resident dragons have folklore over that? What about fishing and hunting, two very popular ways to get food or supplies in climates like these? Where are the ice fisherman skins or hunters bound in furs? What about the fauna or flora found in the region we can probably make skins for that too.

Existential horror can also be fun; remember, relatively recently Gaolers learned that Sornieth has changed. Dragons of other flights have other magic not native to their elements and in addition the age old threat of Shade that seems to be making new problems for new times.

We have a flight literally dealing first hand with monsters and horrors existing already on the planet and in its own prisons and fighting against it, yet people relegate that to Arcane. 😔 Unlike Arcane, the unknown is already here in Ice.

You could easily take inspiration from the movie The Thing, too. It writes itself ngl.

Theres much to do and think about with Ice when you remember this is a region with its own people and culture and not just an aesthetic, and I’d like to see it dabbled in more. Even if it’s just headcanon, you can make it into a skin. That’s what people have done with Light with the whole angelic themes, so why not take creative spins on ice too?

Give ice some headcanon love like y’all do with Arcane and Light. Those flights aren’t about eldritch horror or angels but there’s endless skins for them about it. Give ice some of that same ole love too 💕

[kesadoll]

♡ CWS MDNI 3.3k ♡ black!femreader, ex-athlete/mechanic!nanami little bit of an age gap {r: 19~20 || n: 25}, fondling, oral {f}, overstimulation, missionary, unprotected but his pull-out game strong, he’s a disrespectful gentleman & such a pleasure dom ♡, {petnames: baby, good girl, darlin' || she calls him ♡ kento/‘ento ♡}

♡ sum. geto's gone ghost, & your car needs some fixing up so you can start racing.... pt.1 ♡

kesa's note idk i need that BAD i think you can def read this without reading pt.1, but still go give it some love! thts where a lot of context is, but if u just here for daddymi I don't blame u babe♡ also here's what i imagine nanami with his lil accent sounding like asks & reblogs always welcome!

it had been a couple of months since you and geto had your little night together. just like you hoped it wouldn’t, it definitely turned out to be a one time thing. yuji and geto had a falling out over him finding out geto had been hanging out around sukuna, and that was that. no text message, no calls, not even a “let me show up at your house cause i see your brother’s car is gone.” you felt used and embarrassed to say the least, but the only person who knew anything of it was nobara, who told you there had to be a reason why, though she didnt think it was right herself. you tried not to think too much of it, still going with your brother to races, occasionally seeing geto who always tried to avoid eye contact with you. bitch.

it was a regular friday for you: wake up, go to class, go to your nail appointment if you had one (you did, opting for pink medium-length square nails), go to your hair appointment also if you needed it (this time you just got a wash and trim, letting your hair breathe), and running some other errands that depended on how much money you had in your pocket for that month. you wore your usual outfit for these types of days, a grey 2-piece set with a pink shirt underneath.

yuji, got you an early birthday present about a week back, and it was a car! now whether or not he did it to flex on geto and sukuna, you didn't know, but you were forever grateful regardless. the car was white and sleek on the outside, the inside pretty much being all back. the car coincidentally was a sports car as well, nobara pushing you to race with her even more. since you decided to promise her you’d race next weekend, you figured you should probably take the car to nanami so he can dope up your car like he’s done with pretty much everyone in your friend group.

you finally pulled into the driveway of nanami’s shop, watching as he began pulling a loop of chains that made the large garage door open. he kept them open until you pulled in, closing it once you were lined up with the car lift.

“nanamiii~” you said as you got out of the car, blinking a couple of times when he turned on the bright fluorescent lights. you watched intently as nanami looked over your car, making sure the tires were buckled before he elevated it enough so he could look under the hood of your car, no problem.

“hey miss y/n,” he spoke quite calmly, his sleepy southern drawl pulling at your heartstrings. this only highlighted the bags that you could see under his eyes, making you frown once you saw he still had a little bit of a limp from his old injury. 

nanami used to be a pretty damn good baseball player. from the ripe age of seven, he’d always had a passion for it. he got so good that by his sophomore and junior years of high school, he had colleges lining up waiting for him to commit to one of them. nanami had initially gone out of state to his home college down south, but during the last game of the season (which so happened to be a championship game), he tore his ACL and MCL, essentially meaning that he’d never run like he used to ever again. it was heartbreaking for everyone; even the enemy team felt bad for him, but it was even worse for nanami himself, vowing to never touch a baseball (or bat) ever again. 

he kept that promise, busying himself working on cars day and night. if he wasn’t working, he’d be at a bar, drinking and watching the games they’d throw up on the tv there. you knew how much it affected him, even 3 years later. “kento, if you’re hurting, i can reschedule; you know we’re all still worried about you.” you said gently as if to not set off a bomb. 

nanami shook his head, offering you the happiest-looking smile that he could muster, which really wasn't much. “i’m okay, y’know that y/n.” he unzipped his coveralls, letting them hang around his waist. you knew he liked to work like this, but it took your breath every time you saw him like this; his white wife beater perfectly hugged his soft muscles, his little silver chain with a baseball bat pendant decorating his broad chest, tattoos sprinkled across his body. 

“mhmm..well you let me know when you’re under the hood, m’kay? i wanna learn a thing or two so you can rest sometime,” you said as you turned, waving off his protests as you went into his office, sitting behind a desk with papers all over them.

you busied yourself scrolling on your phone, not realizing how much time passed until nanami walked in. “y’okay? i called for ya a lil’ while ago,” 

“oh! i’m sorry i got distracted.” you sat your phone down and got up, making your way outside.

“you still don’t have t’help, if i was really hurt you’d know.” he tried reassuring you again, following behind you and fixing his black gloves.

“mhmm, sure.” 

nanami led you over to the front of your car, popping the hood open and propping it up. he had you standing off to the side, handing him tools or dragging a box of parts over (of course he wouldn’t ask you if it was heavy, opting to go get it himself). he didn’t let you do much of the touching on the inside, especially not when you had your pretty nails and clothes on, the southern hospitality in him wasn’t going to let a pretty girl like you dirty yourself doing a man’s work. he already felt a certain kind of guilt watching you walk away from him, especially with how good your hips and ass looked in those pants of yours.

the two of you talked about plenty of things, though it was mostly nanami just listening to you go on and on about things he never thought would concern him before. shockingly, you even got him to open up about his little hometown that, from your understanding, was in the middle of nowhere. nothing was left undiscussed, even the situation with geto though you didn’t go into too much detail out of your own embarrassment. nanami seemed particularly disgruntled after you told him what geto did, so you thought changing the subject would be for the better.

despite not letting you do much of anything, he still made you feel like you were important. he explained to you what certain parts did and why he was modifying them for racing, and you tried to listen, you really did, but some too many thingamabobs and doohickeys did a lot of things for you to even remember their names. the only thing you really could focus on was that sweet accent of his, and the way his biceps flexed no matter what he did. you noticed the sweat in nanami’s hair, the way it made his buff arms shine, his wife-beater sticking to his body. “wanna take a break?” you asked sweetly, not wanting him to overwork himself, especially for your own sake.

“hm?” he looked up, resting his forearms on the car. “yeah, let me finish tightenin’ this n’ i’ll come sit down.”

you hummed, going back into the office, and washing your hands in the little kitchen area before grabbing yourself a water, nanami came in and took his work gloves off so he could wash his hands as well. he dried his hands on a white towel he had laying on one of the counters.

“here,” you gave nanami the water you had in your hand, making sure he had taken a sip before you bent back down in the fridge to grab another. what nanami didn't account for were your pants being kinda low waisted, so when you bent over he got a VIEWW of your lower back including those back dermals you’d gotten not too long ago.

he shook his head at those nasty thoughts that ran through his head, leaning against the counter with the water bottle already half empty by the time you turned around. “you uh, finally gon’ race?”

you nodded, tilting your head up at him, “mmm, yeah. i promised nobara i’d go to the next one, but i still don’t know. i just don’t wanna see geto you know?”

“if he shows up, he shows up. you have a bunch of people around you who want to see you race, not him.” he tossed the towel over his shower, taking another couple of chugs of his water. he closed his eyes, his pretty blonde lashes twitching ever so slightly with every swallow. 

“yeah?..” he was beautifully exhausted if it wasn’t already clear before. his sharp jaw was complemented by a growing 5’oclock shadow, something about it ignited something in you. who knew a sweaty, hardworking man would have you gawking like this, and reasonably so.

“always. all of us are excited for you, not just nobara,” he finally pulled his lips from his water bottle, his eyes now trained onto you. he caught you staring at him most definitely, a certain kind of smirk pulling at his lips that made your stomach flutter, “you can’t go lookin’ at me like that.”

“what? am i not supposed to look at someone when they’re talking to me?” you rolled your eyes playfully, looking away as to hide your smile, though it didn’t do much. 

“no no no, that’s not what that was and you know it.” nanami’s laugh was low, his large hand finding solace on your waist. “look at me.”

you shifted your weight subconsciously to minimize his touch, not because you didn’t like it, but the warmth of his hands sent sparks through your body. you crossed your arms to try and put on a tough front, lifting your eyes to meet his, “hm?”

he looked at you through low lids, those hazel eyes of his twinkling ever so slightly between his lashes. he just took a good look at you, jaw clenching while his eyes flipped between each one of yours then down at your lips..he licked his bottom lip to bring himself out of whatever trance your face put him in, “you’re jus’ really pretty n’ i can tell you got all done up before you got here, i jus’ d’know if i can keep bein’ a gentleman with you lookin’ at me like that.” 

you leaned just the teeniest bit closer to him. the way his pretty teeth shined, his canine so sharp you wondered how it felt against your neck. “well maybe that’s just what i need.” 

“y’not ready for that,” nanami’s eyebrow raised, thinking. he slowly stepped back from you then made his way around the room closing every blind and locking every door as you watched. once done, he stood back in front of you, those butterflies in your stomach stirring, “n’ i can prove it.”

 “so prove it.”

nanami’s lips met yours with haste. he lifted you like it was nothing, all of those years with baseball and cars not going to waste (bars?). whatever was on the counter he knocked off before his hands moved from your ass to your thighs, wrapping them around him. 

the way he kissed you was akin to a starving animal getting its first meal in a while, but his lips were so soft, he tasted so good, and the way his tongue twirled against yours?? it was something you’d experienced before, but not this good. you brought your hand up to his golden locks, one of his hands placed at your lower back to pull you closer to him. it wasn’t until he brought his other hand up to the back of your neck that you moaned, his lips pulling from yours with that smile of his, kissing down your neck. “so it’s here..” he said in between kisses. 

“kento..” your head fell right on back, giving him the answer he already knew. his lips and tongue twirled and danced against your flesh, the squeezing of your thighs around his waist only confirming his suspicions even more. 

he hummed in response to you, looking up once he finally pulled his mouth away, unzipping your jacket, “i hear you,” he pushed up your shirt over your breasts, revealing the cute white bra you had on underneath. the way you were already splayed out beneath him, pretty brown skin and shy eyes looking away from nanami’s. “you’re jus’ too pretty baby.”

nanami leaned back down and began kissing you again, this time those large hands of his toying with your breasts, hands sliding underneath your bra to toy with your nipples, the noise you made only fueling that ego of his that bubbled in his chest knowing he had you going crazy already. you couldn’t help yourself anymore, your hips grinding forward into him. 

“you need me that bad, darlin’?” he said against your lips, and you helplessly nodded in response. he licked at your bottom lip, moving his hands from your chest down to your bottoms and pulling them down and off with a quick yank. the cold of the counter made you hiss, but you were quickly distracted feeling lips press right above the waistband of your matching panties, “m’gonna fix it for you, jus’ be a good girl n’ relax for me.”

you did your damned hardest, but with the way he pushed your panties to the side and buried his face between your legs, it was hard. with his nose pushed up against your mound his tongue explored every inch of your cunt, lapping up any of your arousal that dared to grace his tongue. he said no words, only humming when you had a good grip on his hair, which he absolutely loved. the way you writhed against his tongue, especially when he sucked your clit up in his mouth, causing you to arch your back so deep you had to hold onto the counter, had nanami feeling full of himself. 

his lil ego was only boosted further when your moans drew out into a long whine when nanami began to tongue fuck you. “kento-!!! ohhhh my godd!~” your entire body tensed up as you came, but nanami never stopped. if anything it only made him keep going besides your babbling pleas for him to slow down, especially when his tongue curled. your next orgasm came just as quick as the last, this one causing tears to bead up at your lashline, thighs almost snapping closed around nanami’s head.

his hands had a firm grip on each of your thighs, making sure you didn’t crush him while you rode out your last orgasm on his tongue. once he pulled away you could finally relax, your breaths heavy, whimpers dripping in ecstasy. “m’sorry baby, she jus’ taste too good.” nanami’s eyes lingered on your pussy for just a moment, admiring how much it was twitching and how wet you were and it was all because of him. “c’mere.”

he got up off the floor, off his knees mind you, grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you back into another kiss. tasting both you and him off his tongue was something so nasty, but you loved it. “i need you.” you reached your hands under that wife beater of his, nails dragging down his chest and stomach. you could feel how nanami’s stomach tightened, followed by him untying his coveralls from his waist, and pulling his basketball shorts and boxers down simultaneously.

“yeah?” your words lit an already big fire inside nanami. you heard little lewd squelching noises as he rubbed his tip against your entrance, your brows furrowing once you felt his tip push inside you. “y’gonna take all this dick, baby?” he said with his face just inches away, watching your brain scramble to find words from you feeling so full off that spongey head of his.

when it took you a little too long for you to respond for his liking, putting a hand around your neck. he didn’t squeeze just yet, but he slid in some more, watching the way that your face contorted, your mouth helplessly falling open. “i asked you- fuck. i asked you a question darlin’..n’ you better answer or else i’m pullin’ right back out.”

“y-yes! m’gonna take it kentoimsorryplease-” you blurted out, mustering all the brainpower you had left just so he wouldn’t pull back out of you. it didn’t matter anyway because you felt how that man twitched inside you at your words, pushing himself in a slow, fluid motion just until your hips met. he had your legs thrown over his shoulders already…he was NOT playing around. 

“good fuckin’ girl..’ he cooed at you through gritted teeth. nanami waited until your body relaxed, at least the best that it could, his hips rolling with every slow thrust. you were choking on moans, only able to get out gasps while nanami rubbed your cheek with the pad of his thumbs, to calm you before both hands were placed on your hips. he pulled you down onto him with every thrust and it drove you crazy. he was stretching you in ways you’d never been stretched, his dick reaching places so far back you thought he was in the base of your lungs.

those sweet moans you let out only drove him mad. nanami picked up the pace quite seamlessly, his eyes never leaving your face as yours closed. he was fucking you sooo good words weren’t an option for you, nor were they even a thought. the most you could do was let your pathetic moans fill the room as nanami threw praises at you left and right, loving the way your cunt squeeze around him and suck him up at every word. 

“haaah- gonna cum soo~”

you couldn’t even get that last word out. nanami was plowing into you at this point, a hand reaching down to rub circles into your clit. to say you were fucked out was an understatement. your eyes were now unfocused, mouth stayed open to make way for those slutty moans you were letting out. though your vision was blurred, and the only thing you could make out was nanami’s chain that danced with each thrust, you knew he was right there with you.

“cum f- shit- cum for me baby, please.”

something about that saying please, practically begging you with the way he repeated it under his breath multiple times afterward, pushed you over the edge quicker than the both of you expected, your cunt clamping down on nanami’s dick and causing his hips to stutter. he kept his thrusts going, helping you ride out your orgasm before he had to pull out quickly, finishing on your stomach and chest. 

“fuck-” he groaned, his hip bucking wildly while he fucked himself into his hand, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“some gentleman you are,” you couldn’t help but giggle as you reached your arms up and wrapped them around him. 

“yeah,” he huffed against your neck and relaxed in your embrace. After some time he finally sat back up, pulling his pants back up before he grabbed that towel from earlier and wet it with some warm water to clean you up. “i know this s’ backward, but i’d like to take you to dinner t’morrow.”

“oh?” you tried to keep your laugh in, knowing it was tearing the poor man up inside. “of course! and i expect you to be on time, mister.”

“i’d never keep you waitin’, ever.”

orignal works by me ♡ reblogs welcome, do not steal/recreate..

exhusband!reiner next

[stupidphototricks]

Dwarf tradition, in The Truth. Long quote but there is so much to unpack here.

"A dwarf needs gold to get married." "What… like a dowry? But I thought dwarfs didn't differentiate between--" "No, no, the two dwarfs getting married each buy the other dwarf off their parents." "Buy?" said William. "How can you buy people?" "See? Cultural misunderstanding once again, lad. It costs a lot of money to raise a young dwarf to marriageable age. Food, clothes, chain mail… it all adds up over the years. It needs repaying. After all, the other dwarf is getting a valuable commodity. And it has to be paid for in gold. That's traditional. Or gems. They're fine, too. You must've heard our saying 'worth his weight in gold'? Of course, if a dwarf's been working for his parents, that gets taken into account on the other side of the ledger. Why, a dwarf who's left off marrying till late in life is probably owed quite a tidy sum in wages—You're still looking at me in that funny way…" "It's just that we don't do it like that…" mumbled William. Goodmountain gave him a sharp look. "Don't you, now?" he said. "Really? What do you use instead, then?" "Er… gratitude, I suppose," said William. He wanted this conversation to stop, right now. It was heading out over thin ice. "And how's that calculated?" "Well… it isn't, as such…" "Doesn't that cause problems?" "Sometimes." "Ah. Well, we know about gratitude, too. But our way means the couple start their new lives in a state of… g'daraka… er, free, unencumbered, new dwarfs. Then their parents might well give them a huge wedding present, much bigger than the dowry. But it is between dwarf and dwarf, out of love and respect, not between debtor and creditor… though I have to say these human words are not really the best was of describing it. It works for us. It has worked for a thousand years." "I suppose to a human it sounds a bit… chilly," said William. Goodmountain gave him another studied look. "You mean by comparison to the warm and wonderful ways humans conduct their affairs?" he said. "You don't have to answer that one. Anyway, me and Boddony want to open up a mine together, and we're expensive dwarfs. We know how to work lead, so we thought a year or two of this would see us right." "You're getting married?" "We want to," said Goodmountain. "Oh… well, congratulations," said William. He knew enough not to comment on the fact that both dwarfs looked like small barbarian warriors with long beards. All traditional dwarfs looked like that.* *Most dwarfs were still referred to as "he" as well, even when they were getting married. It was generally assumed that somewhere under all that chain mail one of them was female and that both of them knew which one this was. But the whole subject of sex was one that traditionally minded dwarfs did not discuss, perhaps out of modesty, possibly because it didn't interest them very much, and certainly because they took the view that what two dwarfs decided to do together was entirely their own business. — Terry Pratchett, The Truth

I super love the footnote, of course, but unexpectedly now I kind of want this version of a dowry to be a thing. I mean, the dowries of the bad old days where the man basically bought the woman from her parents, that's not okay. But this.

I'm a parent, and in no way do I feel like my kid owes me for their upbringing, education, or even (I'm anticipating) a few years of post-college living at home. Not at all. I can't imagine not taking care of them or attaching any strings to that care.

But that's not what this is. Really, ideally, it's a way for parents and children to give each other the gift of the child's independence, their autonomy, their adulthood. To officially and tangibly say that their relationship from this point on is no longer parent/child, but something more on an equal level.

For that matter, I imagine the child is free not to have a relationship with their parents any more at all, if they want. No obligation, no guilt. If parents want to be in their kids' lives when they're adults, they'll need to make sure their kids actually like them as people.

Well. I know that our world of humans doesn't work like this. Even if we put a monetary value on what we owed our parents and paid it, we'd still feel obligated to them, at least a little. Even if our kids paid us back, we'd still feel like we had the right to control them, at least a little.

But man. That g'daraka thing sounds wonderful.

[hoe4sports]

Intuition

Jessie Fleming x reader

Note from the author: the train to angstytown is leaving. This is a fic to highlight women in abusive relationships.

If you experience domestic violence, please seek help at your closest emergency line.

Summary: After growing up with Jessie and dating your way through college; you split up. Years later you play for the same team, but Jessie has a bad feeling about your newly acquired fiancé. You need help, but you don’t know how to ask for help.

Warnings: Mentions of domesticated violence.

-

You sat in front of the mirror wondering if this is it. This situation that you have gotten yourself in is turning into a living hell. But you can’t help it. It’s addictive.You realise that can’t navigate the situation anymore, the reigns are beyond your control. The eggshells are becoming too many and the scares are taking a toll on your health.

On the table infront of you, is your bright pink hairbrush and your makeup. You grab your hairbrush, brushing your hair slowly. It hurts when you brush it, as your scalp has become sensitive due to all the impact it has taken. But, it’s okay, you think. She dosent mean it. You used to love your hair. It was your greatest asset. When you were a teenager, a young girl, all you wanted was to have long beautiful hair. But now, all you want to do is to cut it off. You feel like it holds you down. It’s like chains covering your arms and feet. Like if you were to go for a swim, you would drown in the lake from the weight of the chains. Gosh, you think to yourself. You don’t even recognise yourself anymore. The shadow of the person you used to be is slowly becoming too heavy to carry by yourself, but the thought of having to admit the truth feels even heavier. However, if you are gonna make it out of there, you are gonna have to share the backpack filled with rocks with someone else.

You have been weighing out the options you have for a few weeks. There is a short window of time coming up. It’s less than a weekend, but if you can get someone to help you then you’ll manage to get done in time. But you have a doubt in your mind, then again, she probably dosent mean it.

Every time your work up the courage to tell someone, you freeze. Gosh, why is this so hard you think. This isn’t love, but your fiance just happens to be stressed. She doesn’t mean it, you think. There is a lot of stress at work. And you haven’t really been the best partner. You had left your toothbrush on the sink the other day and she had flipped like a switch. Telling at you about anything from her pants not being washed to the glass you left on the counter. Whenever this happens, you do your best to stay silent and calm. It’s okay, you think. She always apologises afterwards when she calms down, and she says that she is gonna change for the better. But, change takes time, you think. Maybe all your fiance needs is more time. For you to be more flexible. More empathetic. More understanding. More helpful. Less annoying. Less frustrating to deal with. Maybe you just needs to find a way to be good enough for her, perfect for her. But you don’t know what to do to become perfect because your fiancé has told you that you are the furthest thing from perfect. You don’t blame her, she’s just telling the truth you think. She doesn’t mean it as a negative thing, it’s all said with good intentions you decide.

A few hours later, you arrive at practice. Jessie instantly sees you and her cheery self comes over. She knows that you have been pulling away, but her mind is fighting over whenever to say something or not. At the end of the day, it isn’t really her business. But really, it is. You used to be close. Not just the kind of close where you had sleepovers at each others dorms or the kind of close where you know the other’s favourite foods or colors. It is the kind of close where she knows what you are thinking before you do, they call it intuition. It had started back when you were neighbours in Canada as kids. You went to kindergarten together, middle school, high school and somehow ended up in the same dorm at university. 20 years together with someone does something about you. She knew you like the back of her hand, and you knew her. It had been a few slip ups with you two in high school, but only when partying. You had kissed her, but she had forgotten. She had admitted her feelings to you, but you had forgotten. It was the circle that neither of you knew how to get out off until Jessie admitted to liking you in College while laying together to watch a movie. You couldn’t really remember why you broke up, but it was civil. Jessie knew you better than anyone else. And that was why she was worried. Her nights would be filled with what if’s and questions about how you were feeling and what she could do to help.

Jessie’s intuition started ruffling her mind when she met your fiance just shy of a year ago. You and Jessie had been dating in college, but when Jessie left to play overseas; one of you had called it off without really knowing why. It was heartbreaking. Soulshredding. Decapitating. Jessie was the kind of woman that was too good for this world. She would always bring you coffee. Or let you borrow her half zip. Or drive you home and wait until you had gone inside until she drove away. Jessie never wanted you to be perfect. She actually never wanted you to be anything that you didn’t want to be. A part of you still wishes that you stuck together after college. But Jessie deserved better. Jessie was perfect. She was just so perfect that it hurt seeing her with any of the girls she dated.

Jessie shortened the distance between you and greeted you with her typical bright Jessie smile. You had been playing together for just a year, but Jessie knew you. She knew that something was off. She knew that you were engaged, but she never sees your fiance at your games. She noticed that your fiance never posted anything of you online. You always excuses her with that she was busy or that she really didn’t care for football. It’s was lie. Your fiance told you that until you started playing better, you didn’t deserve to have someone watching you. She said it was wasting her time. She made sure to explain how it felt embarrassing to her when she had to watch you make mistakes on the field.

“Hiya Y/N, excited for today?”

You look at Jessie confused. A part of you freezes. If you have forgotten something important, your fiance will punish you for it. Taking your phone away. Making you run laps until you throw up from exhaustion in the pouring rain. Have you sleep outside in the dog’s house. Jessie notices you scared look, and you reaction dosent help her fears.

“Hey Jess, what’s today exactly?” You say with a slight treble in your voice.

“Media day! You and me have a few hours of media duty together, just like the old days”

You smile softly. Shit, you think. Shit, shit, shit. That means that you will be late. You won’t have dinner ready for when your fiance comes home. Your fiance will be furious. Enraged. Disappointed. God, you think. You promised her that you would be better, but here you were again. Not getting better. The worry creeps up on you while you sit down next to Jessie’s cubby. You rub your knees anxiously. The beauty of worrying about a lot of things is that many things can be done on autopilot. Like tying your cleats. Like putting on your shin pads. At one point you went from being excited to put them on to feeling worried and anxious. Like you wanted to throw up. Not over if you could score a goal or not, but over what your fiance would think of you. Pathetic. Fiasco. Disappointed. All words that she had used to describe you. You decided to try to push it to the back of your head. To a spot where you don’t have to think about it. You figured you would just dissociate until practice was over.

-

The media woman brought you and Jessie into a game of “who’s most likely to”. You feel your heart become lighter. It’s something that won’t cause issues between you and your fiance. She won’t have to worry. And you won’t have to feel scared. The woman is going through how the game works. Your head won’t allow you to focus. Instead you straighten your shorts and make sure that your sweater is zipped up. If it isn’t zipped, your fiance might think that you are trying to get attention from other women or that you have cheated on her. If your shorts is too short, she’ll think you are a whore. All her rules are taking a toll at you. But you try to suppress it, and it seems like you are doing a mighty fine job. But only for the moment.

“Who is most like to get a yellow card?” Jessie reads. You both point to you. Phew, you think. No argument. But your fiance is going to be pissed about you being known to getting yellow cards.

“Who is most likely to score a goal?” You read. You feel stressed for a second. You are a forward, but you suck. You are terrible. Not even sure why you are allowed to play football for a living. You point towards Jessie, who points towards you. Shit, you think. Jessie disagrees. You pray that she won’t be mad. Jessie raises her brow at you, but you ignore it. “That’s not true!” She complains, but you laugh it away.

“Who is most likely to control the music in the lockerroom?” Jessie reads and she instantly points towards you. “Just this afternoon, she infiltrated my ears with Sabrina Carpenter and please please pleeeeease.” She said as she shoves her shoulders in yours. It makes you smile, and you nod into the camera. You feel slightly more comfortable.

“Who is most likely to forget something?” You read. You let out a small giggle before pointing to Jessie. She raises her hands. And you smile. “Jessie used to forget everything in college, it was so bad that I started carrying an extra of everything in case she needed it”. You say before looking down. You could feel your protective wall lowering. Jessie smiled at you before playfully rolling her eyes. “I can’t even deny it! I’m sure you can find tons of pictures of me running around with clothes that has her number on it or even her pink cleats” Jessie finishes before slapping your knee playfully.

“Who is most likely to try to argue with the referee?” Jessie reads before giggling. “Y/N here, would always defend me when we played back in college. She would practically fly across the field to argue with the ref or the opponents if needed.” Jessie finishes leaving you blushing. Shit, you think. If you blush, your fiance might think that you like Jessie. Well, you do like Jessie. But you won’t admit it. That was probably how everyone felt about someone they dated in college, right? You look at Jessie who points to you, and you give a shy smile before pointing to yourself.

-

“My name is Jessie Fleming, and this was who is most likely to with Y/N. Thanks for watching!” Jessie finished and the crew stopped recording pleased with today’s footage. You looked over at Jessie who hopped out of her seat while taking the time to thank the crew for spending time creating content, you nodded in agreement.

-

As you were entering the locker room, you both headed to your own cubbies. You were busy trying to find a new pair of socks and slippers that had somehow gotten lost in the cubby. Your brain was trying to figure out how to tell Jessie that you needed help. That you needed her. But you were scared to step on Jessie’s new girlfriend’s toes. You were terrified to overstep your boundaries.

Jessie decided to break the awkward silence that was building up.

“So, how’s Hannah?”

You froze at the sound of her name. Scared of what you were allowed to say and what you weren’t allowed to say. The situation was turning into what you needed it to be, but also what you dreaded. You wanted to fall apart infront of Jessie. To have her scoop you up and hold you, like in college. Have her take you home and get your things before letting you stay at her place until you had yourself sorted.

Your eyes turned towards Jessie who were still awaiting a response. You fiddled with your engagement ring. A ridiculously big rock. Nothing like you wanted. You wanted simple. She gave you big and flashy. Jessie knew this. She knew that you despised the ring, but that you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Jessie knew because she had wanted to purpose to you after college. She knew everything from how you wanted to be purposes to, what you wanted to wear, how you wanted your nails done, the size of the ring and even the type of ring. Jessie had gotten so far that her grandmother had handed down her engagement ring to Jessie, so she could purpose with something extremely meaningful. You longed for Jessie, and Jessie longed for you.

“H-Hannah? Uh, she’s working.. uh, a lot” you stuttered while feeling your eyelids burning. Your head was pounding. Your heart was beating so hard in you chest that you felt sick. The blood was rushing in your ears. It felt like all the nerves and receptors in your brain was twisting making the room spin.

“Oh really” Jessie said very much unimpressed as she huffed. You turned to look at her and she was busy fighting with her curls. She never liked Hannah. She felt as if Hannah rushed you into a relationship and an engagement. The proposal was nothing like Jessie knew you wanted, perhaps that made Jessie hate her even more. Hannah had purposed just shy of a year of being together. She had guilt tripped you into saying yes, telling you that if you’d say no that you would be a brat, ungrateful and a terrible partner.

“Is she still busy being the equivalent to a walking asshole?” Jessie spat out before closing her cubby hard and turning around to look at you. You didn’t know what to say. You felt like all the air was sucked out of your lungs. A single tear fell from your cheek. It was quickly wiped away in an attempt to cover up the damage that your fiancé had done.

Jessie was now getting suspicious that her intuition was right. She had felt weird about the relationship since day one. Her hate from Hannah had increased every match day when she saw how heartbroken you were when she wasn’t there to watch. She’d watch you turn into someone you never were. A complete stranger to whom you really were.

“Is she treating you good? Like really properly good?”

Jessie sat down next to you, both of your faces turned forwards. Her hand slowly laid itself on to of yours covering your engagement ring. She couldn’t help but wish that it was her ring on your hand. Her hand gently stroke yours and she scooted closer to you. You felt her side touch your side. Tears were now forming rapidly in your eyes.

“Sunny? What happened to you? You were always so happy, smiley and always laughing. My mom always called you sunshine”

Jessie asked. Her hand reached for you cheek as she wiped away some of the tears you had flowing. They didn’t seem to stop. But you didn’t make a sound. It made Jessie’s heart hurt even more. She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make her seem biased.

“Do you remember the family bbq? That was when my mom called you sunshine for the first time. I asked my mom about why she was calling you that, and when she told my why I insisted on calling you Sunny too, even though we were just kids“ Jessie continued.

She was right. Her mom would always call you sunshine. You were always a happy kid. Always smiling, laughing and talking. The joy of being alive was radiating through your eyes as a child. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to answer Jessie, but you didn’t know how. You needed help to get away, but the words felt so big. So strange in your mouth. Like they were a foreign language you had yet to learn.

“You really were my sunshine, you know? My sunny. You are still my sunny.” She said as she laid a hand on your back. By now, the tears were constantly streaming down your face. You cried silently, not letting a sound out. The sight broke Jessie. This side of you was a stranger to her. You threw your arms around Jessie. She held onto you while your tears streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes were red from crying. Your mind exhausted from trying to be someone you weren’t. You looked up at Jessie who smiled sadly back at you.

“Help me, Jess” you whispered as you cried your brave tears. Jessie pulled you in tighter and kissed the top of your head, like when you were kids and your great grandmother passed. You felt strangely safe. Like you were transported back to college. To your good days. To your best days.

Jessie looked down at you while holding you. She whispered into your ears. “I’m gonna get you out of there, Sunny.” Her voice broke when she saw your sad face.

“Because you were my sunshine”

[batboyblog]

https://www.tumblr.com/batboyblog/763234650399424512/the-recent-chappell-roan-thing-is-why-i-absolutely

I frankly also get the impression that a lot of these people genuinely think another Trump term will just be “business as usual” or “it’ll only hurt the people who deserve to suffer” and that they’ll just be able to hide away from the consequences for four years before someone comes along and fixes the mess for them and they get to benefit.

I don’t think they have any realization of just how bad this is gonna get the second time around, because the first time Trump was metaphorically behind a chained fence and held back by strong rope. This time he’s being let loose alongside his fascist theocratic friends.

I've puzzled about this for some time, because like do people honestly not remember what it was like? what those 4 years were like? the fear, the chaos, the national embarrassment. Every day waking up and going "oh god! what did he DO! while I was asleep!" and how often you'd wake up to some story that he'd tweeted something scary and dangerous at 4am. I believe him threatening to nuke North Korea (the "Fire and Fury" tweet) was one of those very early AM specials that we all woke up to.

I mean for people like Chappell, its hard to remember, but Trump has been the more or less national main character for 9 years, since the fall of 2015. I mean an 18 year old first time voter could have been 8 years old when Trump came down the gold escalators told us all that Mexicans were rapists and he was running for President. So for anyone under 30, Trump is normal since every election they've been able to vote in, he's been the Republican nominee. I've spent 9 years of my life, across 5 elections fighting Trump directly or indirectly. Depressing thought that.

but past that there's been a national effort to gaslight us all into thinking "yeah no it was normal" I mean I remember the media coverage of 2017, the first year or so of Trump's Presidency, every few weeks or so there'd be some "is it time for the 25th amendment now?" story about if Trump's weird behavior this time for his cabinet to step it and remove him. (A quick google turned up CNN Oct 2017, New York Times May 2017, The Guardian July 2017, and Vox February 2017) compare that to coverage today? The term "Sane-washing" has been coined where when Trump says something bonkers it gets characterized as "sometimes meandering" rather than "incomprehensible" and "worrying"

figures in the media have gone so far as to claim there's just no point to covering new Trump scandals because "they won't move the needle" which really should not be a journalist standard. And we see that they do, take North Carolina's Mark Robinson. Caught in a massive scandal, involving sex, porn, and being a Nazi, he's now down massively in the polls after nation wide coverage. Trump just had new court documents opened that showed he wanted a riot on January 6th, that his reaction to a mob threatening the life of his Vice-President was "so what?" and they he knew full well that he had lost but was going to "fight like hell" any ways. And its not much of a story, indeed I'm seeing more news about a NY Republican Congress having worn black face (new story today) than Trump's effort to over throw the government and kill Mike Pence.

past the media's gaslighting of course there's been a major and on-going campaign to effect how we see reality. I know that sounds very woo-woo, but to step back for second, most of what we know about the world is stuff people tell us, so you know Joe Biden is the President because other people have said so, most likely you've never met him or even seen him in person. Well as more and more people turn away from traditional media, and traditional media turns more and more to making of money by confirming the bias of people, it becomes easier and easier to slip things that are not real into "facts we are told". So for example "Joe Biden is President, and also in decline" there's never been any real evidence of that, but if on social media you are bombarded with it 4,000 times a day... you start to take it as understood wisdom.

people are also getting worse and worse at not just taking what they're told if it confirms biases they already have. Former Vice-President Al Gore wrote a book nearly 20 years ago now, called "The Assault on Reason" which had a ton of very interest neuroscience about the ways that moving images, TV he was talking about, by-pass the logic centers of the mind, the way we relate and trust someone talking to us in a way the written word does not. I can't help but reflect on that with the rise of TikTok and short form video as a "source of information" (lol)

any ways this is a long winded way of saying bad faith players, Republicans, left wing grifters, and agents of chaos, have been very good at flooding the zone all through the Biden Presidency with stuff "student loan debt" remember when that was SO! important SO big and Biden "not doing anything" (untrue) was the biggest deal? well yesterday his newest plan got unlocked in court and 3 out of every 4 people with loan debt will get relief.... oh you're just now hearing about that from me? huh... funny... I thought it was the number one issue and reason we should never trust Biden and the Democrats... weird....

but there have been other issues pushed up as THE! issue, its all misdirection, its all meant to get natural Democratic voters to feel frustrated, upset, and hopeless, and not to vote their interest. The world is a big complex multi moving machine, and anyone telling you that one issue either fixes every other issue or totally totally outweighs everything else and should for everyone, is most likely BSing you and doesn't have your best interests at heart.

and lets be clear, Trump is a Rapist he's a lot of things, traitor, racist, scumbag, criminal, scab, tax cheat, fraud, etc but for me any ways, I'm not gonna vote for a rapist to be President and if other people aren't gonna do everything they can to stop a rapist from being the President I don't want to hear how much they care about progressive issues.

[sister-of-hitoshi]

IM BACK AGAIN BUT WITH OUT THE COVER OF AN ANON!!! Can I get another Mr. Villain x reader? This time can I pleaseee have the reader be a baker? Making him cute lil cupcakes with panda faces!!!!

To my loveliest @crystalmonk5579 of course!!! Thanks a lot for coming again and requesting ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ <33 I can only hope that I didn't disappoint, sorry for the delay (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Sending you love!

Adultered Confections

Genre: Fluff

Anime: Mr Villain's Day off

Character: Warumono-san/ Mr Villain

Word count: 1k+

Note: That gif is literally just him coming to terms with his new-found feelings sensations 😭

"Ahhh~ look at that cloud, it looks just like his fluffy hair"

You sigh, your consciousness floating in a happy dream before the ding of the oven jolted you up from your slumber, starting a chain reaction which finally ended up with a bag of flour all over you.

"Why do all my dreams always end up like this! Ugh." You exasperatedly made your way to the oven while patting your face to take out the cupcakes. This was your new recipe, and you wanted it to be a hit. Although a small batch among them was way more special than the rest.

They were the panda themed cupcakes for your crush.

"I know I currently look bad but all this pain would be so worth it if only he was here to comfort me and pat all this flour off" You animatedly nodded to yourself, satisfied with your own reasoning while being completely ignorant to the jingle of the shop door-bell.

A pat on your back and you screamed- almost.

Turning around you were met face to face with the guy-of-your-dreams. He first stared at you, and then stared at his fingers covered with flour.

"Would you like me to help you in some way?"

He was a kind man, the kindest you've ever met, and extraordinarily handsome on top of that.

"Pat all this flour off of me!!-" Wait wait- that came out without much thought!!- "-....please?"

How could I be so bold??! You internally screamed. You were about to immediately correct your 'mistake' when he took out his handkerchief.

"Excuse me then" he said, and started patting your face.

You immediately closed your eyes shut, only taking small peeks at him out of embarrassment. You would be lying if you didn't admit to feeling heartbroken at his lack of reaction.

But well that's just who he was. A calm and composed man.

Surely girls would be throwing themselves at him. You haven't even been able to express your interest in him properly except for well- giving him freebies everytime he came regardless of whether he bought something or not, always make light talk with him to know about his interests and days, chalking out his day-off routine using all the "classified information" - things he tells you about himself, pack extra sweets, keep your shop open longer on particular days of his visit and also-

Yeah, you get it.

I'm a rock- I'm a r.o.c.k

You continued to chant your newfound mantra in your head until he was done with dusting patting flour off of you. You opened your eyes and thanked him shyly, promising to repay his kindness. But of course, you being a blind, non-living rock, failed to notice his blushing eartips.

All the while he was busy doing his job of cleaning you and staring at your face a little bit more than that his ears had felt a bit warm, his heart had felt warmer, and he had this tingling sensation in his stomach. It had actually been quite a few times when he has felt this sort of unfamiliar sensation now, but today it felt more intense.

"So, how did you land up like this?"

He asked, tilting his head. So adorable-

"Well I was making these cup- OHH!!"

"Please wait it's a surprise for you!-" Without waiting for a reply, you swiftly turned around, ready to dash towards the oven when your head hit a nearby rack which somehow caused a box of wooden spatulas of varied shapes to fall on your head somehow, which triggered another chain reaction somehow which again ended up with a bag of flour all over you. Really, again.

"....I really really can't believe my luck!!!"

You exclaimed exasperatedly, looking down at your feet. That's it I look like a fool in front of him I'm so so embarrassed let me just dig up a hole and bury myself there maybe even do-

"Pfft-"

You looked up at him and caught him smiling down at you. You were blessed with his laugh, okay time for me to be in heaven now which he was trying so hard to hold in.

His mind only repeated one word to him, over and over again. Cute.

Cute cute cute cute cute-

"Um... I know it's really weird that I'm like this- I mean would you mind doing it no- no- I'm sorry-" you were trying to find the best words that would fit your current situation while grabbing at your work uniform by it's hem and blushing, when his actions stopped you from rambling further. He had again started to clean you up with another handkerchief now, all the while smiling at you.

For some reason, even my neck feels very tingly now.

Wait- he always felt this way when he was with you...had you mixed something in your confectionery?!

He was almost going to become very serious about this situation and ask you about the ingredients. But then you looked up at him and smiled-

He lost all his composure. He could do nothing except for continuing to stare at you and reply with a robotic 'welcome'.

"Umm then... Would you like to come with me over here? I really doubt my luck right now so.."

"Sure thing" He smiled and complied, now standing beside you while you took out whatever you had baked for the day.

But then you suddenly grabbed his hands to save yourself from tripping.

His entire being went on high alert as he swiftly positioned himself behind you, your back being supported by his broad chest. His ears were completely red now.

"T-that was close!!" You shouted out, completely flustered. You were feeling perturbed now, anything could happen to you and your cupcakes with this dull luck of yours. Both his hands were supporting your shoulders now to help you stabilize, so taking this as an opportunity, you nudged the tray towards him without turning around.

Here goes nothing-

"Panda themed cupcakes for my most cherished customer and special person.... Hope you l-like them."

"Is this a gift?"

"Yes, of course, now hurry up and take it!"

He continued to stare at them for a few seconds, before taking one in his hand, all the while the other one holding your shoulder continued to tremble.

What is this texture?!!

He studied the cupcake, like it was some state-of-the-art sculpture. The texture of the panda cupcake was so fluffy, it looked so soft, it gazed at him so lovingly his sense of guilt almost compelled him to say no-

You had turned around.

Your eyes met his.

Your eyes

He immediately stuffed his face with two cupcakes.

The taste was so blissful he imagined himself being hugged by soft giant pandas... and you?

You were there hugging him?

He immediately snapped out of his blissful trance, your voice calling out to him very sweetly, asking him if he liked it, telling him that it was a special recipe for him and him only.

"Oh..."

He squeezed his coat fabric.

This feeling....it had nothing to do with the ingredients used. It was the baker, you, all along.

[vsaintsin]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due 2024, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

[leggerefiore]

I know you've done headcanons with the twins apologizing after a fight, but now we gotta know how Cyrus, Larry, Nanu, and Kabu apologize! Bonus if its right before someone has to leave for a business trip or something (him or his s/o, either one) so there's a lot of time to cool off and think of a way to apologize or maybe just agonize and angst about it lol

cw: angst, couple fights, comfort,

characters: Cyrus, Larry, Nanu, Kabu

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He was a man of little emotion. That was what he desperately wanted to believe. Controlled. Logical. Feelings had no bearing on him. Yet, he was in a committed relationship with another. One where it seemed that whatever emotional barriers he set up were forced down. This could be good, as he was forced to relax and allowed a space to stop following his ruse of the somewhat charismatic and domineering leader of Team Galactic. It was nice to have moments to breathe with another he hated to admit he had high trust for. Though, it could also be bad. Horribly bad. He was so close to finishing his plans, yet you decided to demand his attention. Loneliness and feeling abandoned by him were your chief complaints, but he failed to listen to them. It became a heated argument quickly, which he ended by packing his bags for the time he planned to be locked into his plans.

☄️ Your hurt expression as he slammed the door behind him was haunting. He had turned his personal phone off, preferring to focus solely on matters related to the Red Chain and legendaries. Words echoed in his mind. Your frustration towards him was more than apparent, but the way you had locked onto his arm had made him feel strange. Lonely… You said you felt lonely and unwanted. Accusations of him not even wanting to be in a relationship any more were heavy on his chest. What did he want? Part of him wanted to accuse you of being a useless piece of his past holding him back from everything he was going to do. The other half felt mortified he had hurt the one person that he had these complicated feelings for. If only to himself, he would admit that he loved you. His words were more than unkind. Cyrus had mostly ignored you before snapping on you for trying to consume so much of his precious time.

☄️ The way it was distracting him from his plans was driving him into a special kind of madness. It was not like him to be so caught up on things like this. Feelings came and went. You would not care for this in his perfect world, and yet here he was spiralling further and further into the thoughts of you deciding to leave him. His breath hitched in his throat as he grasped at his chest. The door to his office was locked as he was sat alone in the dark room. Cyrus was above this. He was supposed to be the embodiment of emptiness that he wished to bring to the rest of the world. Yet, he was not. Memories tormented him as your hurt face kept itself firmly burned into his brain. Finally, he broke. The Galactic Boss had to acknowledge that his plans would surely fail if he were to enact them in such a state.

☄️ Saturn seemed mildly annoyed when he announced a postponement of the plans, but he cared little for his reaction. Sure, he lied about it being under the gaze of more testing and investigating, but he knew fully well that the path to what he desired most was through that method. That apathy only lasted until he stood in front of his apartment door. It was quiet. Not there was much noise in the high-end complex usually, but he expected some sound. Had you left? He had not been brave enough to turn on his phone. His fingers tapped in the code for the door, and he stepped inside. You sat on the couch, boredly watching the television screen as it played something. He felt nervous suddenly, like his legs could no longer support his weight. Before he crashed, you turned to look at him with big eyes.

☄️ Your arms locking around him froze him in place as you rushed towards him at an unexpected speed. The warmth of your body completely claimed his mind as it forced down all the horrible worries about you disappearing. His hand came to rest in between your shoulder blades. A sigh left him. “Beloved… I apologise for my behaviour,” Cyrus felt strange speaking so genuinely to you, “I… I have been a bad partner to you. This project has simply been one of my most important ones, and I could not bear to waste a moment away on it.” Your grip on his shirt tightened at those words, obviously it was not what you had wanted to hear from him. “But, I realise that was cruel to you,” he continued, making eye contact with you, “… I love you, truly. Please, do not even think that I wish to part from you.” A kiss to his lips silenced him from whatever else he was going to say. It seemed you just wanted to soak in his presence for now, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 Larry sat in the cab with heavy thoughts weighing on his mind. Relationships certainly were not an easy thing. Especially with a working schedule like his. Geeta had assigned him an out of region business trip, which he knew better than to try to decline. She could be quite… persistent, for lack of a better term. Though, he found she had a fierce competition in you. The news had upset you greatly, as the trip was happening during a time he had requested time off. You felt frustrated that Larry did not argue against her about his requested time off. He felt annoyed and stressed about being stuck between your upset reaction and Geeta's demanding nature. It was rare that his facade broke, but he snapped at you. His words were cruel. Too cruel. You almost instantly teared up when he told you that this would not be a problem if you were not together. There was no time to talk as you left the apartment.

🍙 His eyes stared out at the terrain below as it carried him through the Galar region. He felt too far from home. You had made him feel like he had a reason to return back from work. Larry was not ignorant about the bright changes that you brought to his life. Meals no longer felt lonely, his battles felt more meaningful with you in the audience cheering him on, and he felt like his home was more than a place to just rest his head. You spoke with him and cuddled up to him. He could enjoy the sight of you playing with his pokemon. It felt brighter now. He basically smashed that light with a bat. Embarrassment burned in his chest. You just wanted to see him more. That was not unreasonable. Yet, he blamed you for his distaste for this sudden trip. If he was not dating you, he would not feel this upset about having to take it, sure, but he also would be missing so much else instead.

🍙 Attempts to call you went unanswered, as it was clear that you did not want to speak with him. He understood. The tears welling in your eyes haunted him. Larry knew better than to say things like that, especially at his age. You deserved much better than some average man like him. It was a strange form of torture, moving through negotiations and meetings on his trip. He put his usual effort into them, not wanting to incur any more issues, but his mind was completely elsewhere. While wondering around Wyndon, he found himself searching for any to bring back as a gift for you. Nothing seemed to call out to him. That was until he saw something in a children's shop.

🍙 By the time he was back in Paldea, he could feel his blood pressure up high. His feet carried him through the streets of Medali nervously, freezing a few times in deep thought. Would you still be there? He hoped you would give him a chance to apologise. The time away had given him the ability to consider the error of his ways. He opened the apartment door quietly. The sink was running in the kitchen as he saw the light pouring out from the door way in the low light of the late evening. The middle-aged man carried himself into the home, aware that you were now. Yet, before he could reach the doorway, you stepped out and stared at him. It was quiet for much too long. An awkward moment of refusal to make eye contact followed.

🍙 Larry pulled out the gift wordlessly and offered it out to you. He let out a breath. “... I shouldn't have said that,” the words came out as his stomach twisted, “I'm grateful you put up with a man like me. I was stressed and should have controlled myself better. I assure you that won't do it again to you.” You took the box and opened it quietly. Inside was a cute Alcremie plush holding a heart. A small laugh left you. Placing it on a nearby table, you walked towards him and hugged him. He returned the affection with ease, feeling at peace after everything. Home truly was with you, it seemed. “I love you,” Larry said after a while, “... I managed to get the next few days off.” The excitement on your face was like electricity in the air. His Oricorio would be envious. It seemed you two would be able to work this out.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 It was not like him, honestly. Nanu had become pretty passive in his older age. Discourse and stress were not really worth it, he had discovered long ago. Yet, somehow, he managed to get into a fight with his partner. It was dumb, admittedly, and not entirely your fault. The Ultra Beast you had brought back from wherever you had been made him instantly go on edge. It had to be specifically that one, too. The Guzzlord made him instantly feel on the defensive. He said something harsh things that he knew he should not have, and you seemed so shocked by his sudden shift in personality that you ran off. He had not seen you since. The Kahuna wondered if you were done with him. He supposed he deserved it for what he had said.

🌑 Though, Acerola found him moping around with Meowths and quickly put to rest any worries. You had just been called out to some battle tournament thing for Champions and had gone away on a trip. Apparently, you had captured the Ultra Beast for it. Of course, whether you would actually come back to him after the trip was over remained in the air. The girl seemed distressed about how to respond to the situation. He understood. Nanu could not stand the Ultra Beasts, but accusing you of mocking him and trying to make him think about his past failures was simply wrong. You did not know about that because he did not tell you about it. Miscommunication was common, he guessed. But, you had seemed genuinely hurt and terrified by how he changed upon seeing the Guzzlord. This is why he liked Meowths, he supposed. They did not judge people like humans did.

🌑 He still wanted to apologise to you. As much as he hated to admit it, Nanu was fond of you. The old man wished he was not, but you unfortunately had made him care for you by going out of your way to spend time with him and just by being so loving towards him. He wondered why you wasted your time on him. There were a lot of men out in the world that were greater than him. He was just a lazy cop who avoided his duties until he had to do them. But, he was not one to deny someone what they wanted. Even if that meant sharing his couch bed with another person alongside his Meowths. Acerola had no idea when you would be back, however, so he just would have to play the waiting game.

🌑 While a certain friend of his had called him unlucky once, Nanu had not thought too much about it until a familiar voice called out to him as he ordered his usual meal at the Sushi High Roller in Malie. You had seemingly come out of nowhere, sheepishly smiling at him as you stood in the entranceway. He ordered your usual for you and watched as you followed him to where the both of you were normally seated. For a while, it was an awkward silence. He thought of a few things he could possibly say, but nothing came out. Your meals were just eaten in a strange quietness. Nanu brought this on himself. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, you were staring at him. “I'm sorry,” you apologised to him, “I didn't know that you… Were uncomfortable with UBs like that.”

🌑 He shook his head. “Don't blame yourself,” Nanu reassured you, “You didn't know, and I didn't tell you. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that.” Your eyes looked towards the floor. He reached across under the table to grab your hand. “I like you, kid,” he called you that nickname to tease you a bit, “I'm not mad. I understand if you don't want to bother with an old man like me any more-” He was cut off by you suddenly grasping his hand tightly. You shook your head. He sighed. “Hey, let's get out of here,” Nanu got up and headed to pay, “I feel like there's more you want.” Needless to say, the Kahuna felt completely reassured that you wanted this relationship later, and whatever awkwardness the miscommunication brought up was destroyed the minute you two were alone together.

🔥Kabu🏅

💥 He had no idea how the fight even started, really. Something between you two just lit up like a Fire Blast. Kabu wanted to pretend that he was not the type to get jealous, but something about how much time you seemed to be spending with Raihan. He supposed it made sense with you being the Champion and all, but he just felt oddly insecure. After all, Kabu was an older man and, despite how fit he was, there were times when he could not keep up with you. He was not proud of what he said. An accusation like that in a heated moment was a mistake. Especially when he was taking a trip back to Hoenn to visit family. You looked so hurt as you stormed out of your shared home in Motostoke to go who knows where. Attempts to call you were in vain as you refused to answer, and then he lost the ability to while in Hoenn.

💥 He truly could not even comprehend how those feelings came up inside his mind. You had never shown any romantic interest in Raihan, nor were you acting unhappy or discontented in your relationship with him. Kabu simply just felt as if you had suddenly were interested in him as you had been training with him more often. He even felt as if it were cutting into the time that you spent at home with him. If you wanted to train, he was more than willing to train with you. You were both his rival and lover, ultimately. Training with you was one of his favourite things to do. The more he lamented about it, the more it seemed apparent that he was not truly convinced that you were into Raihan, but upset that he was taking up time that you both usually shared. Some wizened old man he was. Kabu wanted to laugh and cry.

💥 As the gym leader wandered around his home region, he debated a way to truly make up for what he had done. Kabu would be certain to apologise first and foremost for his words, knowing fully well that it was his fault for acting in such a manner, but he wanted to show his affection at the same time. He wandered around a few markets and stores in the tropical region before stumbling across something sweet in the Lilycove Department Store. Of course, he thought as he looked at it, that would be an obvious way to apologise and would hopefully be something that you would like.

💥 The flight back home was a slightly nervous one. He hoped you had returned home in his absence, not wanting you to have to stay at a hotel or out camping. The familiar ambiance of Galar surrounded him as he boarded a train bound from Wyndon to Motostoke with a racing heart. The region he came to make his home was always quite different from the one he had originated from. He could complain endlessly about the delays with the trains, but he opted against it. This was his home, after all. It was here that allowed him to meet you and enjoy the battles he found himself continuing in well into his ageing self. Unlocking the door to his home, he felt more determined. Kabu entered and found you curled up on the couch with his Centiskorch. The sight was refreshing. You turned to look at him with curious eyes.

💥 “I'm sorry, love,” he stood before you and hung his head a bit, “I know what I said was completely off the mark, and I shouldn't have even said it.” You stared at him with big eyes, making his heart race. Kabu wanted to laugh at how well you had him trapped. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew that he would run himself ragged to make you happy. He pulled out the gift he got for you in Hoenn. “I love you,” he said plainly, “I hope this helps convey my feelings.” You picked up the pokeball out of his hand and sent out what was inside. A heart-shaped pokemon looked around the living room in confusion. The Luvdisc clearly had no idea what was going on. There were few, if any, in Galar due to restrictions, but he pulled a few connections to bring it in. Judging by the hug and kiss you gave to him, it seemed he was forgiven and understood.

[memecucker]

Thinking about this time in college when I went to a start of year party at the dorm of my friend who also happened to become my neighbor that year and she had a roommate who I kinda like immediately clicked with like we shared similar interests and we kept returning to having conversations bc it felt like we were both interested in talking to the other and when I mentioned that I had a student membership at the Art Institute of Chicago and would study in the lounge she thought that was really cool and would like it if I could show her around it later on after she’s settled in. And I was thinking oh cool I got a date with a cool neighbor girl neat plus I’m friends with her roommate. So the next week my roommates and my friend and her roommates minus the one I was interested went out and I asked about her and my friend said she was busy and same thing next week and eventually my friend picked up that I liked her roommate and she got out that the girl I liked was trying to not sound rude and actually didn’t like going to clubs and holy shit neither did I I only came because I thought she would. So my friend said that next weekend the girl is gonna be out of town but after that she’ll try one more time to get her to come and if not she’ll throw a room party so the two of us can chat again and I can ask her out. Sweet

Anyway one of the ppl she invited was an old high school guy friend that showed up a day early (while the girl I was interested in was still out of town) to stay over and also this guy was a coke fiend that brought a lot of cocaine to share and he bragged about all the cocaine and he was bad enough of a coke fiend that he was picking it out of the carpet when the lines were finished which I thought it was funny bc it was pretty fucking shitty cocaine compared to what my ex-raver roommate had and also this guy was the son of the mayor of a Chicago suburb so he obviously has never faced consequences before type and also liked heavily quoting rap lyrics with the n word and also once left me in a room with my unconscious friend and closed the door behind him as if he was expecting me to do something and was giving a courtesy. Also got the vibe he may have invited himself over.

Anyway the next day at some point around noon the girl I was interested in came back and saw someone trashed in their living room and also broke into her room and trashed it and stole basically all the valuables and yes it was the scummy rich white boy coke fiend that somehow has coke that felt like it was cut with table salt son of Chicago suburb mayor that stole her stuff and somehow thought he’d get away with it which didn’t happen because his dad has no influence over Chicago PD or the girls family who happened to be lawyers.

So obviously she changed dorms and partially blames my friend for what happened for inviting or at least not kicking out/watching that guy and they then absolutely hated each other I won’t go into all the details.

Anyway that’s the story of how I accidentally influenced a chain of events that caused the the girl I was gonna ask out to get her room burglarized and incinerating the chances of actually getting a date bc what was I gonna say “hey remember me I’m the friend of the roommate that brought over a guy that robbed you? Wanna see the Andy Warhol exhibit?”

[1d1195]

Protection IV

Read Protection here.

Lots of angst this chapter. More unaware pining for one another. 6.5k words.

Objectively, she was beautiful like a rose and smelled pretty like one too. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to be nicknamed after one but she looked as if he just called her the c-word.

Niall had been working for DSS for a year shorter than she had a security detail. When he arrived at his desk job, he was assured that The US Secretary of State’s daughter would never come to the office. As far as everyone knew, she had no idea where it was. Moreover, she hated everything that this office stood for so why would she ever set foot in it?

However, the second her hand touched the building door. Niall swore he knew. Everyone knew. The air got colder the room darker. If it were the 1600s, someone would have cried witch.

Niall really only knew because this twenty-something girl walked through the door, running pants, a long sleeve athletic shirt, a sporty headband wrapped around her forehead to keep the sweat from beading off her face. She wasn’t a smidge breathless as she walked to the front desk. Niall happened to be on his way out to his lunch break but again, was stopped the moment he saw her enter.

“Uh, hello,” there was a new secretary behind the main desk. This wasn’t really a drop-in service kind of business—especially for someone like the young woman who clearly just popped in during the middle of her run.

She was pleasant, anyway, to the woman. The poor thing had no idea she was talking to the daughter of the top person this bureau serviced. Niall peered around the half-wall like the scaredy cat he was, unable to look away for even a moment but too scared to pass by her for the door.

Harry had the day off—that must have been why she was here now. He probably had no idea she was here. Harry often took shift after shift keeping an eye on her, telling his relief was unnecessary. Sometimes he would work 24-hour shifts just to keep the department happy and of course no one minded missing their time spent with her.

Although 24-hour shifts hadn’t really happened since her terrible night out just over a week and a half ago.

Normally, they would have fired Harry. They had no choice but to send his supervisor out to her—while Harry was trapped here, relaying the story, and explaining the paperwork that he had written—but she was insistent that she wanted Harry to stay. In fact, Niall read the notes from the meeting and she said, "he saved me from something terrible and if you fire him and put someone new, you'll regret it."

Niall felt at the time it was a good idea to pat himself on the back. She liked Harry. That was a good thing. That was what DSS wanted. Someone that she wouldn’t fight with as much. Someone she wouldn’t run away from. Harry was his closest friend as well, and so, when it came time to find another new security member for her, who better to recommend than Harry?

Harry never seemed to mind her antics. Harry’s family, like Niall’s, was back across the Atlantic Ocean. Most of Harry’s friends lived throughout the country apart from Niall. Niall, who also liked his job, was often chained to his own desk and work so even when Harry did have a day off, it didn’t always mean he could hang out with Niall.

So why not hang out with her? She just sleeps and studies. Harry had told him when Niall inquired why he would take so many overlapping shifts. Didn’t he need sleep? Didn’t he need space from her?

“Hi,” she chirped to the poor woman who was surprised this cute, twenty-something young woman. It was like a train wreck. Niall should have alerted someone, maybe even Harry, but he couldn’t look away. Definitely couldn’t spare a glance to text Harry about it. “I was wondering if I could speak to the supervisor in charge of Mr. Secretary’s security detail?” She was all eyelashes, adorable. It had been ages since he’d seen her in person—at the time she had just graduated high school--she still seemed so girlish when Niall was fresh out of college, finding his way around the office he stood in now. Now she was this beautiful young woman.

No wonder Harry doesn’t mind seeing her all day long. She’s easy on the eyes.

At that moment, one of their agents burst through the door behind her, out of breath. Hands on his knees as he gasped for air the secretary looked at the girl who didn’t even bother with her attention toward the man behind her. “Uh...I...I’m sorry, Miss. That’s private information you’re looking for. And he doesn’t really take visitors.”

“I understand, ma’am. However, my dad is Mr. Secretary, so I feel like he’ll make an exception for me.”

Oh, this poor woman was going to have a heart attack. She grabbed her office phone immediately and quietly, but terrified, explained the situation.

Calmly, she stood by the door looking at the different plaques and pictures. Niall’s phone vibrated with a message from Harry. Do you want to go to the pub or something to watch the game? Drink some? Niall went to answer but got the feeling he was being watched. He looked up to see the girl staring back at him. His breath caught in his throat, like he was caught in a horror movie and the monster just saw him. “Hi, Niall,” she smiled brightly with a wave.

What the fuck?

The agent behind her was still gasping for breath but looking at Niall like he had betrayed the entirety of DSS. The secretary was shocked at the sight of Niall as well. “Uh...hi, darling,” he answered awkwardly. “How’s your day?”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just thought I’d go for a jog.”

“A sprint,” the agent grumbled. Niall could see why Harry thought she was funny. “Lost her by the park. Why are we here?”

“I just want to ask a question,” she said with a simple shrug. The poor, anxious woman was shaking as she brought her a glass of water (and one for the agent who clearly needed to hit the gym if he was going to chase after this girl). “Thank you,” she smiled kindly.

For years Niall heard nothing but scary stories of her and her behavior. Harry told him nothing but funny and cute stories of her well-decorated apartment and their movie marathon. There was no way the two entities were the same girl.

Niall knew her of course. He wanted to know how she knew him because Harry didn’t seem like the type to spill personal information like that. “I asked Harry if he had any friends. He mentioned just you, said you worked in the office of this horrible place. So I found you on Harry’s Linkedin profile and then compared you to a picture I found on his social media. Like I told Harry, you should change your last name to your middle name so it’s harder to find you,” she shrugged.

He opened his mouth to speak but the supervisor came flying out of the other room. “Hi, what—”

“What the fuck did you say to him?” She snapped, narrowing her eyes at him.

Oh, Niall loved her. A live show to her two personalities—the nice one that Harry raved about and grumpy one that he only ever heard about at work. Harry’s supervisor looked downright nervous. It never ceased to amaze Niall how this young woman could scare the life out of grown men.

“To who?” He shook his head in confusion. The poor secretary stared at her desk unable to look at anyone. Niall felt for her. He should have returned to his desk, but he was frozen in place watching her.

“Harry, obviously. You guys finally get a decent person in charge of my security. Someone I can actually tolerate and then you yell at him for something that wasn’t even his fault? We actually had a pretty decent thing going. I was just coming around to the idea of sending you guys actual Christmas cards instead of glitter cards,” she rolled her eyes. Each year several people (it was like magic how she knew which few to select) in the office received a card from her. It was always a different return address--never her own. Always looked like one of those a holiday business coupon cards. For some service in the area, and each year they were tricked. Left covered in glitter and with a printed card that said Happy Holidays, but the L was a middle finger emoji.

They fell for it every single year.

“Miss,” he said calmly. “If I can—”

“Are you going to fire Harry?” She interrupted angrily.

“Do you...want someone else?” He asked immediately.

Niall thought she would strangle him if she could. She closed her eyes so tightly, he worried her eyelids might snap. At once she flashed them open. “No, I don’t. But you told him something after that night. You made him all weird,” she frowned. Her voice took on this new tone. One that Niall didn't know she possessed. It was almost...awe-struck. “He barely talks to me," she sounded...upset.

“Surely that’s a good thing,” the agent muttered behind her.

She ignored him but Niall could see she was even angrier at the notion. “Do you know that 6-8% of men and women have reported having their drink spiked at least once in college? It wasn’t Harry’s fault," Niall felt a certain amount of gratitude for her, knowing that she was trying to defend one of his best friends. Even if he was still terrified of her. He could hear the anguish in her voice. It was like she was pleading a case. Hoping that the man in front of her understood how much he had hurt Harry and she didn't care for that at all.

He pressed his lips together. “Why did you come here, Miss?” He asked gently.

“If you fire him or he quits I’m going to do way worse than glitter,” she promised and turned right back out the door. “You always blame me for everything. Always! The one time it was my fault I’m suddenly the one in the right? You’re all infuriating. Enjoy the paperwork,” she grumbled turning out the door sharply. Niall believed the door didn't slam solely because it couldn't. If it could have slammed shut, he definitely believed she would have.

The agent followed after her, still struggling a bit with his breathing. But the moment she left, he swore the room got warmer, the light a little brighter. There was palpable relief in the air. “That girl is terrifying."

Niall couldn’t wait to tell Harry about it.

*

“Do you have a codename for me?” She asked. They swapped out their normal rom-com for a more dramatic-action movie. It caught her eye because it involved a security detail for a political official. She gave Harry a knowing smile and he rolled his eyes with a shrug. “Whatever y’want love.”

It was dramatized beyond belief, of course. Especially when she considered how she was probably one of the most boring people to keep watch over. Given they were literally watching a movie together. Other than her short hospital stay that is. Since then, she was keeping a low-profile. Just as she had thought, her “friends” didn’t really seem to care. But even with her beliefs confirmed, she kind of preferred these quiet moments with Harry. Especially after her talk with DSS.

While they watched, her gaze drifted over to Harry every so often. She enjoyed the way he rolled his eyes at any scene that broke his precious protocol. Harry thought it was funny how they always had secret codenames to describe the person they were keeping watch over. Especially since it was public knowledge.

It seemed she and Harry were on the same wavelength. Hence, her inquiry.

“Uh...The Department calls y’Rose sometimes, but m’not too sure why.” he shrugged. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He had no idea why, but he hated the way she frowned immediately. She looked at her lap, twiddling her thumbs together silently. Harry could see the vulnerability plain on her face. It seemed like she stopped breathing. It appeared he wasn’t going to get a follow up either—at least not voluntarily. He paused the movie to turn toward her fully on the other couch. “S’matter, love?” He hoped his voice was equally gentle, not too pressing. Despite her low-key couple of weeks, Harry was still wary of anything that might set her off. She was agitated still—rightfully so—but he was grateful she was merely agitated with his constant worry. Part of him believed she was maybe even a little fond of it.

She was silent a moment longer. “They still call me that?” She asked so quietly, Harry had to strain to hear her voice.

He didn’t know why they called her Rose. He thought it was pretty. It reminded him of Titanic, one of his favorite movies he used to watch with Gemma growing up. Objectively (but also very much subjectively on Harry's part), she was beautiful like a rose and smelled pretty like one too. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to be nicknamed after one but she looked as if he just called her the c-word. “What do y’mean?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “They started calling me Rose because they said I looked so pretty on the outside...so it distracted people from all the thorns and injuries I cause.”

Harry didn’t like that one bit. He thought a federal agency should also have a bit more class than that—especially if she found out about it.

“I know I’m annoying, but they really just don’t like me,” she explained. “They protect me out of courtesy and obligation. I’m hoping I can make them sick enough that they’ll just leave me alone.”

Harry tilted his head at her. She was annoying at best. She escaped a lot. Required endless paperwork to be done. But she was 24 and as far as he knew, no one had given her an ounce of grace or privacy regarding her role as the Secretary’s daughter. Especially in the last seven years in her role.

“I never wanted the detail. My dad was insistent. Especially after my mom,” she murmured.

She never really talked about her mom. There were no pictures of her on social media and not a lot by way of Google searches. “Where is your mum?” Harry asked.

She looked at him with her more regular, usual, irritated expression. “Seriously?”

He glanced at her in confusion. “Uh...yeah.” She stared at Harry, still irritated for a few quiet seconds. It occurred to her after Harry didn't respond or break the silence that he was in fact serious. She was surprised he didn't know.

Her expression changed from irritation to this wistful, forlorn one. “She died...well...personally, I think she was assassinated but apparently since she’s not a politician it doesn’t count. And of course no one believes me nor asks for my opinion.”

Harry blinked. He thought about his own mother. One of his best friends. The person that texted him without fail every time he felt anxious about an important meeting or the first day on a new job. The one support system in his life that would say honey bun, it’ll work out, no matter how bleak the future seemed in that moment. When there was a girl, Harry told his mum before anyone. If he was feeling poorly, mum gave him a soup recipe that was sure to cure him.

She didn’t have that.

That was a tragedy.

Clearly, she didn’t get along with her dad. He wondered if he would get more insight on that if he could maintain this kind of relationship with her. Harry found all her anger and her attitude suddenly tolerable. No wonder she was so...her. The poor thing.

“Christ, love. M’sorry.”

She shrugged. “S’whatever.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. How do you console someone over something like that? Harry had more questions. Did they wipe it from the internet? Was it traumatizing beyond what was expected of something like that?

Was she there when it happened?

After another moment of silence, she pressed play on the movie. Neither of them spoke for a minute but Harry couldn’t bring himself to focus on the movie. When she began speaking once more, she didn’t pause the movie again. But she broke Harry’s heart. “Sometimes I think they wished I died instead of my mom.”

Again, he was so overwhelmed with worry for her mental well-being he didn’t really know what to say. He certainly didn’t think he could try and console her. Moreover, he didn’t think he would say the right thing. Still...Harry felt compelled to speak. “M’sorry they call you Rose, love.” She didn’t acknowledge him. Kept her eyes on the screen. “Think you’re much more of a Wildflower,” he mumbled under his breath.

That got her attention. She turned away to look at Harry, her eyebrows pinched together the way he worried would cause her a headache. Her lips pursed into a scowl. “Is that a joke at my expense? Seriously?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, fuck,” God, Harry sucked with words sometimes. He felt his cheeks warm a bit in embarrassment that she was acknowledging his words—and more so misinterpreting them. “Sure...they’ve got this ‘wild’ side. But...s’because they grow anywhere. They’re strong,” he shrugged. “They’re bright too...light up the side of the road even if the road isn’t pretty...they don’t need a lot of...care from others. But they’re gentle anyway. Even when s’hard t’be growing under difficult circumstances,” he was kind of rambling.

She really liked what he was rambling about. Warmth spread through her body as he explained himself; there was a sure flutter in her heart that shouldn’t have been there. Harry was being much too kind. Especially when she already tried escaping at least a half dozen times when he was present. Even when she knew she was being a miserable brat each time she did it.

He thought she was strong and gentle.

Of course, the most Neanderthalic part of her girl brain pointed at an invisible neon sign flashing with the words that Harry (someone who was so objectively hot, she would have killed anyone in her path to throw herself at him if he wasn’t in charge of her security detail. If he was just a regular guy she met on the street) thought she was pretty.

“Oh,” she said looking back at her lap once more. “That’s...” she cleared her throat awkwardly. She swallowed, feeling tears fill her eyes. That was by far the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her. Especially since she started needing a security detail. Especially from someone on her security detail. “Thank you,” she rolled her lips into her mouth looking at the opposite wall. She refused to cry because of Harry. And if she was going to cry it was not going to be in front of him. All because he said a few nice things about her comparing her to wildflowers.

Flowers that were obviously pretty—and Harry knew flowers more than any man she had ever spoken to. His comparison of the flower was strong but still gentle...?

Fuck. She couldn’t not cry.

“Are y’alright?” He asked wearily while she had this battle with her sympathetic-nervous system to keep from crying.

“Yeah...” she said and got up from the couch marching down the hall to the bathroom. She turned on the sink and let out a choked sob as she covered her mouth. It had been ages since someone said kind things like that about her...maybe since her mother passed away.

There was a knock on the door only moments after. “Y’okay, love?” Harry asked.

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her. Trying to keep the tears at bay she squashed the emotion from bubbling in her throat, “Yeah...” unsuccessfully as her voice broke. “Just my mom,” she lied.

She couldn’t see him, but Harry felt like an ass making her upset. Then he felt madder that DSS made her upset. He was going to tell Niall to get everyone to stop calling her Rose immediately. He pressed his head against his arm, leaning on the frame of the bathroom door. “Y’sure?” He asked. If she wasn’t someone he was responsible for keeping watch over, he would have strongly considered yanking the door off the hinges and holding her until she stopped crying. Maybe get her a chocolate bar—the kind she always grabbed at the checkout line.

“Can you just go away?” She snapped.

Harry sighed. It always felt like one step forward and five steps back with her. “Yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled and retreated back to the sitting room.

For her benefit, he pretended he couldn’t hear her crying. Even though it hurt him almost as badly as when he was feeding her peanut butter toast.

*

She had been grumbling for ten minutes. Scribbling interrupted by moments of typing furiously. When she studied, Harry was used to the way her method took up the entirety of the sitting area—nearly both couches, the coffee table, and the floor in between. She sat on the ground, not the sofa. If he weren’t scared of her when she studied—the only time he thought that she was truly scary unlike the rest of DSS because she took studying so seriously—he would tell her it looked like she was having a séance and asking for some biochemist of the past to help her.

But whatever she was doing tonight finally came to a head. When she threw her notebook across the room. Harry had paid almost no mind to her grumbles and quiet curses under her breath up until then. He looked up from his computer with a smirk.

He was running the latest background check on the boy that had asked her on a date—Harry did not approve but it wasn’t his place to judge. The guy was too childlike and didn’t even ask her what her favorite food was and insisted they go to a local seafood place even though she hated seafood. She thought she was being stealthy, but he overheard her telling one of her girlfriends about the date he had planned for her.

His gaze returned to his screen. “Your poor notebook,” he mumbled quietly acknowledging she was upset but so as not to piss her off. She wasn’t doing it for Harry’s attention—again, he knew better than to mess with her study techniques.

“I’m not in the mood, Harry,” apparently, he was still messing with her method. “They save this class for last just so they can withhold degrees, I swear.”

“Love, you’re probably the smartest person I know,” he shook his head. “You’re gonna do well no matter what,” he shrugged simply. He truly believed that.

She ignored his compliment. She didn’t like the way it made her stomach flip—especially after the whole Wildflower discussion. “My brain is fried, and I have an exam first thing in the morning...and it’s just...” She sighed. “It’s so hard sometimes,” she mumbled.

Harry looked back up at her and tilted his head. “What’s hard?”

She glanced at Harry and then looked at her fingers like they were trying to tell her something. Harry didn’t press further. If she wanted to chat, she would. Without speaking, she went to fetch her notebook heaped at the wall and returned to her seat on the floor by the coffee table. Harry assumed she wasn’t going to talk to him about it. That was fine, he went back to his computer.

It was silent for a few moments other than Harry’s quiet tapping on the keyboard in front of him. But she didn’t move, no more scribbling or typing on her end. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke again.

“No one...” she took a deep breath, shaking her head and then tried again. “I’m just my dad’s daughter,” she told him. “No one ever wants to hang out with me because I’m always under a microscope. It’s why I go out and do stupid things because it’s the only time I feel normal. I know it’s not good for me...I mean look at what happened a few weeks ago. People only want an in with Mr. Secretary,” she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Or...they want money...money that I don’t even want because I don’t think it’s fair or right that everyone around me works so hard...and struggles to pay for things,” Harry thought she might be the kindest soul he knew. Even when she was a pain in his butt.

“Do you know I picked this school because it was the cheapest in the city? I worked so hard for every scholarship I could get in high school, and I still took out a few student loans even though my dad told me it made him look cheap not paying for me. I’ve always paid my aunt the cheapest rent she was willing to bill me. She was going to just have me keep an eye on this apartment that she doesn’t even use. But I don’t want people to think I’m the spoiled brat that everyone believes I am. I found an online transcriber job because no one in their right mind would hire me for an in-person job. Someone that always has a full detail of security around her. I work almost thirty hours a week doing it in between class and studying. I know I’m extremely lucky and fortunate. But I don’t take anything from him. I don’t want it. People don’t see that though. I’m just the daughter of the US Secretary of State. In their eyes, my path was paved before me even though I was the one that built it for myself.”

Harry frowned. He never thought about what it must be like to be the child of a top political official. He wondered why she was always going out and trying to escape. It didn’t make sense with her brilliant mind and her hidden, but still somehow sunny disposition.

Despite all the horror stories, this was his favorite version of her. The real her. The one that told Harry things and made herself a bit vulnerable. The empathy he felt for her in that moment was overwhelming. She was seated back on the couch looking over flashcards. Her brow pinched together the way he hated.

“I know everyone told you I was a brat. I know I’m a brat a lot of the time. I don’t mean to be,” her voice cracked a little on the words and Harry watched as the background check on the boy came back clean. Nothing of note. Harry scoured his social media profiles and other than a bit of college binge drinking, he didn’t find anything scary enough to dissuade her from seeing him other than his personal belief that he was a terrible option. “I’m sorry I give you a hard time. I don’t mean to. I’m just...very lonely. Everyone in this class had a person to help them study except me. Because no one wanted to be associated with me.”

Harry closed his computer. Maybe it was a bad idea. But maybe her rant was her way of getting Harry to feel sorry for her so he wouldn’t realize when she was making a run for it again. This reprieve of going out each weekend couldn’t last forever. This date was proof of it. For the last few weeks, he had been enjoying the painless following her; while she ran errands, watched movies, or he spent the time listening to her clean, watching her study, and work around her apartment. However, his mum would be ashamed of him for not trying to care for the poor thing when she was all upset. Slowly he made his way over to the couch with the least amount of study materials on it. “Tell me ‘bout what you’re learning, then,” he shrugged and sat on the sofa.

She stared at him. “You can’t seriously want to help me study.”

“M’not doing anything but sitting there. May s’well make some use of me. Maybe you’ll teach me something.”

There was a pause. She gnawed on her lip nervously. “Yeah?”

He took the flash cards from her hands. The electric currents he felt as her fingers brushed his was overwhelming. He took a moment to steady his breathing (and his heart) as he admired her pretty neat handwriting. He smiled as he read over the words. “I don’t even know how t’pronounce this, love, s’like gibberish. Maybe I won’t be much help,” he remarked. "What is this? Halloween-genisis-candy canes?"

She giggled and looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, Harry," she said releasing a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

“Of course, love.”

"And it's Hallogenalkanes."

*

She didn’t notice when Harry fell asleep because they had taken a break from him quizzing her so she could reread the study guide once more. It wasn’t until the flash cards fell from his hands that she realized it was well past midnight. She smirked at him snoring quietly. He was pretty cute when he slept...and wasn’t constantly on her about what was correct protocol. She grabbed the cards into a messy pile and placed them on the coffee table. Careful not to wake him, she quietly collected all her study materials and added them to the haphazard pile on the coffee table as well. Gently, she threw a blanket over top of him, and she swore she could see him sigh, face smushed against the back cushion.

She should have gone to sleep in her bed for the mere few hours she would get her mind to settle before waking up for her exam. Sleeping in her bed would be better for her brain. But despite everything, Harry helped her. Really helped her.

Plus, if she went into her room, she could only imagine all the noise Harry would make in the middle of her REM cycle in the few short hours she had once he realized he had fallen asleep. She imagined he’d attempt to rip every door off its hinges before he concluded that she was just asleep in bed.

Instead, she scribbled a note to leave on the bathroom door for him, brushed her teeth, then grabbed a pillow and another blanket off her bed. Returning to the free couch, she made herself comfy; sure to be in full view of Harry so when he opened his eyes, she would be the first thing he saw.

When he did wake up later—completely broken that he fell asleep because it’s so unprofessional and so not protocol he could scream—he was immediately relieved to see her beautiful, sleepy face facing him on the other sofa. He rubbed a hand over his face, irritated with himself. But this is his other favorite version of her. The gentle, worriless, pretty girl he can’t help but start to really like.

Realizing that protocol was next to impossible with this girl, he had one little back and forth silent argument with himself deciding if he should leave her be or take her to her room. But she had an exam in the morning, and she deserved a comfy bed. It had been weeks since he had to hold her, cradled in his arms, and it felt so effortless now. He tried not to think about how nice it felt, especially now that there was no danger. In her sleep, she nuzzled her face against his chest, and he definitely felt a pang of...well that emotion was definitely not protocol.

He brought her to her room, carefully laid her on her bed and covered her with plenty of blankets because he definitely wasn’t going to be trying to wrangle the sheets and duvet around her. He felt an absurd amount of adoration as he tucked her in and he tried to shove it as deeply as possible into his chest.

Once her door was closed, he turned and found the note taped to the bathroom door. It wasn’t as neatly written as her flash cards, but somehow, he found this handwriting even more beautiful. It was loopy—not quite printed, not quite script. Harry had watched her doodle and scribble a lot over the last few months. He knew that she ended a lot of her doodles with little hearts, she signed birthday cards to her friends with a little heart at the end of her name every time. But he found the little heart at the end of her note to him the most precious thing in the world.

Thank you for the help studying. I won’t tell anyone you fell asleep. Don’t worry, I managed to brush my teeth without any kidnapping nor dying. I hope you sleep well.

Harry--becoming fully aware of what was happening to his heart and why but couldn't be bothered to stop it anyway--smirked, felt the dire need to call his mum about her, and put the note in his wallet.

*

She had completed her exam and looked terribly exhausted. Harry typically followed about five steps behind her. He found she usually liked to grumble to herself about whatever she forgot in class or if there was an issue with the exam itself. But today she was quiet and after a few steps outside the flow of traffic of most others she turned to wait for Harry to catch up. “Coffee?” He asked. She shook her head and continued in stride with his steps. She didn’t speak. Just walked alongside him.

Fortunately, it was getting cooler, so her leggings and long sleeve sweater were no longer out of place. Harry, however, looked like a spy, forget agent. He wore black dress pants and a crisp white button down and black tie that she could see due to his open black leather jacket. She wanted to ask if he had a date after he got done here because he looked really good.

But that made her think about Harry dating, and she felt so jealous she thought she might gag at the idea and trying to ask him. “Y’okay, love?” He asked gently opening the passenger door.

“Hmm?”

“Y’kinda...squeaked? I don’t know.”

Shit. “M’tired,” she mumbled not looking at him as he went around to the driver’s side. “You look nice,” she continued staring out the window. “You have a date or something?” She smirked unable to contain her curiosity.

Harry had this laugh that made her insides turn to mush. His laugh didn’t go on and on for ages, but the first few notes of it were like the melody to her favorite song. He didn’t let it out all the often. His “movie” laugh, as she liked to call it, was much more subdued and frequent.

But right now she got his real laugh, her favorite song. Even when it shouldn't have been. “I don’t really have time t’date all that much. I do have a meeting this afternoon t'discuss...your dad coming next week.”

She bristled at the idea of her dad coming to town. She couldn’t decide if she would rather he didn’t come at all. But it was Thanksgiving and he had facades to display and people to impress that he and his only daughter had a happy life even though they suffered such terrible tragedies. “Oh,” she was quiet a minute. Harry stopped at the coffee shop drive thru despite her protest because he knew she had work when she got home and her left eye was drooping more than the right. She was grateful for that because her original intention was to go home and sleep for an hour, but Harry seemed to know what she wanted better. “Why do you have to be there? Aren’t you just mine?”

Shit, shit, shit. That was not how she should have said it.

Harry smirked, ordered his and her usual, leaving her in agony as she thought about the prospect of Harry being hers and what his reaction was regarding this information she blurted out awkwardly. She didn’t want to further acknowledge it, finding interest in the parking lot outside her window instead. However, she could see the way Harry mulled it over with excitement in his eyes. “I am jus' your agent,” there was a smug little dimple on his cheek that she wanted to smack off his face. Her heart took off even if she wanted to wipe his shit-eating grin off his lips. “But...m’the only one who doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving...so s’kinda like I’ll be in charge of everything, so people can have their holiday with their families.”

That seemed like a big deal. Even from her perspective. Harry in charge of it all, even for a day. “Oh, wow,” she said blinking. “Is that something you...want?”

“I’d much rather jus’ focus on you if that’s what you’re asking. Think m’starting t’have you all figured out, love.” She resented that. She liked being a mystery. Or a pain in the butt, and what have you. She took the coffee cup he passed along to her and scowled even though her heart was a mess knowing Harry just wanted to focus on her.

Within seconds, she was a bit down about it. Her heart settling into a miserable pattern instead. If he did a good job at this, he would probably be up for promotion. Which was probably something he wanted. He would probably leave her detail and she would get stuck with someone new who didn't help her study and complained when she needed help hanging up her floral stuff. “Y’okay?” He asked again. She certainly wasn’t about to tell him about her fear of abandonment again.

She shook her head. “Fine. Just...I don’t know, we’ve still got an hour of that movie left. Thought we were going to finish it today,” she muttered.

“Sorry, love. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked.

He frowned. “Oh right,” he sighed. “Well, whenever we—”

Her phone was connected to the SUV so she could play her music when they drove around, so it quietly alerted the pair of them that her father was calling. She looked at her phone for two rings, closed her eyes, sighed, and answered. “Hi, Dad,” she said gently.

Harry had never heard that tone before.

She listened, nodding, muttering quiet “uh-huhs,” every so often. “Good, I had an exam today,” her voice was quiet. Timid. Harry was so surprised she even knew how to be timid. “So...when do you fly in?” Harry saw her shoulders deflate just a hair. “Oh,” she mumbled. “No...s’fine. I can...go to a friend’s or something. Yeah. Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “I love—”

Harry saw the call ended on the little screen before she finished her statement. She dropped her phone in her lap and looked out the window. For thirty seconds there wasn't a sound in the car except for the tires on the road. “Pull over,” she said softly. Harry could tell she didn’t want to have to ask twice or be asked questions.

But he had to try anyway. “Is everythi—”

The second Harry was parked, her door was opened, and she was sprinting down the sidewalk. Harry nearly lost his bearings in the sudden change in her demeanor. She didn’t even close her door. He struggled to get his seatbelt off and hurriedly closed their doors before running to catch up to her. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned. Fortunately, his strides were two of hers, so he was able to catch up to her quickly before she turned down the next street. Even in his leather jacket and dress pants. He hoped he didn’t look terrible for his meeting later in front of The Secretary. “Love, what the hell are you doing?” He asked and grabbed her arm pulling her back toward him before she could run any further. She stumbled a bit, Harry steadied her before she was yanking her arm from him. Her gaze was directed away from him. It was then he noticed how misty her eyes looked--even just the view of her profile. “Hey,” he said gently. Much softer than he probably should have because he was supposed to be mad at her. “Love, what’s—”

She shook her head and swallowed. “My birthday is Wednesday; do you know that?” She whispered. He nodded—of course he did. He actually bought her a book he saw that he thought she’d like. Along with her favorite kind of gel pens and journal with flowers on it. He didn’t even mean to get them, but he was at the bookstore on his day off and he couldn’t stop thinking about her flowery apartment when he saw the journal. He wanted to buy her the whole bookstore if he was honest but didn't know what to do with the misplaced emotions and so just stuck with the three little items. “Dad doesn’t remember. Ever. Even though it’s almost always right before Thanksgiving.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Mum began the count down two weeks before his birthday each year. She would give him updates of the contractions she got the night before his birthday every year, retelling the events for the last twenty-nine years. She told him that “right now, I was having a bowl of cereal. I think that’s what did me in. Swore you didn’t like the kind I chose and wanted out.”

“I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. Why did she run? “But—”

“He’s not coming. He’s...I don’t know what he’s doing, he didn’t really say. Said he couldn’t make it,” she croaked. “You’re not having your meeting today. I’m sorry,” like it was her fault. “You’re gonna be stuck with me all by my miserable, lonely self and—” She choked on a sob. She didn’t even cry like this when she came to, at the hospital. The only time she ever cried like this was when it came to stuff about her dad. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I swear to God he doesn't even love me," she sobbed. "And I don't even know if I love him most days but I'm his daughter," the anguish in her voice hurt Harry more than all the paperwork he ever had to do. It might have hurt more than the night he watched her in the hospital. Harry’s job was to protect the daughter of the US Secretary of State and it seemed like the only protection she needed was from the very same person. “I—”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. He just wanted to stop the tears. But it was true either way. They pulled so hard on his emotions seeing her so distraught. At least when she studied and worried, she wasn’t doing well, he could remind her she was brilliant and help her study. How did he comfort her when she was lonely for affection, and he was just supposed to be her security agent? “Love,” he practically cooed, he couldn’t take it. Gemma would be so helpful right now if she were here; stroking her hair and telling her she looked pretty or suggesting something useful like stuffing their faces with chocolate cake. Or shopping until their feet hurt. Harry felt useless. There wasn’t much he could do except pull her toward him and wrapped her in a hug. She sobbed against him openly.

They must have looked like quite a pair on the sidewalk to the few people passing by as she blubbered into his shirt. His nice pressed shirt that she was staining embarrassingly with snot and tears. She clung to him instinctively wishing she could disappear behind his jacket like a magic trick.

He rubbed her back soothingly, as best he could. “I know, m'sorry, love,” he murmured. “I know,” his voice was gentle as he repeated his sentiment to her. “M’sorry." It wasn’t enough. He wished he could do more, say more. Despite the stares, no one really seemed to mind the way she cried into his shirt. Harry’s phone was vibrating with messages—probably relaying information she just gave him of his cancelled meeting. “Wanna go finish our movie?” His voice was quiet. She nodded, sniffled and wiped her eyes as she pulled away from him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He shook his head. “S’okay.”

“Sorry I ran.”

He shrugged again. “Y’didn’t get far.”

They were quiet as they headed back. A few stray sniffles wracked her body every few steps. “I outran an agent once on your day off,” her voice was a little stronger and they walked back, side-by-side toward the SUV up the road.

He chuckled. “How come?”

“Didn’t think he could keep up,” she shrugged. “He couldn’t by the way. Is there no like...physical fitness test? Like I can’t even run that well so the fact he was struggling...” she trailed off shaking her head. “S’not a good look for DSS. If I could give them a negative star Yelp review, I would.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re something else, Miss Wildflower,” her face warmed at his gentle little nickname. She would never forget the codename conversation as long as she lived but she was surprised he thought about it at all.

“You don’t have American friends or something...on Thanksgiving?”

He shook his head. “M’all yours, love,” he smirked. “I’ll help y’cook and we can watch movies?” He asked opening her car door again. She paused before she got in.

“If you’re sure,” her voice was quiet, unsure. She didn’t want to force him—especially when he really was under no obligation now that her father wasn’t going to be there.

“M’sure,” he nodded closing her inside before going to his side.

Harry was all hers.

--

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[turbulentscrawl]

I hope you dont mind me sending a req and it should be angsty right?

I absolutely adore your modern reader and i very much like andrew. So do you mind me sending a request about the modern reader with andrew part 2? To connect with the angsty part, personally i want you to write something about how the modern reader feels lonely for being the only one who comes from the modern timeline, like feeling alienated or estrangement from everyone who comes from the past and struggling with the no internet or new media to consume (personally i think anyone who is from our time could probably feel a withdrawal of internet. I know i do. It suck and i look crazy when it happened.)

Ooo.. considering how our mannerism, fashion, and hygiene routine differ a lot from the past can also cause friction with others can be a good angsty idea. And also food, assuming the reader come from a well off family, their food would looked like what royalty ate. With salt, pepper, cinnamon cost a fortune back in time. You can go wild, i am sorry if this is a long req, i merely gives suggestion. Dont mind me if you dont want to write it.

I think this is the longest individual scene I've written so far! I got carried away ahaha. Actually, this might need to become a multi-part series. ewe

Warnings: fem reader (it was relevant for this), hurt and comfort

Another day of staring at the wall. Or the garden, as this particular moment would have it.

It had been about three months since your arrival now, according to Freddy. (Tracking the days was the one thing he was good for outside of matches, as far as you were concerned. The guy was meticulous with records-keeping, you’d give him that. But he was also a dick.) Three months of boredom, monotony, and a critical lack of stimuli.

The first few weeks had been fine, if only because you were too busy trying to survive a potential witch hunt. Turns out, being hated and blamed for everything has a way of distracting the mind from its homesickness. But the worst of that had passed now, leaving you to take in the reality of your situation: you were more removed from your old life than anyone else here. Your entire way of life was gone.

There was no internet, no television. There was a library, but it was only ever added to at the whim of the man named Orpheus. There were no cars, and there was nowhere to go. There wasn’t even a washing machine—everyone took turns doing their clothes by hand. The stove in the kitchen was gas, and fickle. The doctor, Emily, and Luca made efforts to introduce you to the ways of this more ‘primitive’ environment, but the sheer disappointment of it all made it hard to make an effort. The hygiene standards were different, too, and it was jarring to see what some of these people considered ‘clean.’

“What are you doing out here?” A voice calls. You jump a bit, rattling the chains of the bench swing you’ve occupied. When you turn around, the ‘Gravekeeper’ is behind you in his dark casual wear. The moon is but a sliver in the sky, so if it weren’t for the paleness of his face and hair you might not have seen him at all in the darkness.

“What does it look like?” you ask in response and face forward again. ‘Andrew’ isn’t a bad person, from what you can tell. He doesn’t seem to hate you like some of the others do. But he’s defensive, sticks his foot in his mouth a lot, and you’re too tired for an argument.

“…It’s past curfew,” he says, voice moving around the swing slowly. He’s in your periphery now, hands folded over his chest like he’s still holding that shovel of his. It’s some kind of comfort item for him, you think, but he doesn’t have it with him.

“Luca said that’s just a suggestion,” you reply. “And even if it’s not, you’re out here too.” Andrew pauses after you say that, awkwardly shuffling in his spot, looking between you and the garden. There are no birds, no crickets out. You can hear him swallow thickly in the silence.

“I saw you from the upstairs window,” he says slowly. “I…thought I should come check.”

“Why?” You’re waiting for a ball to drop. To be tricked.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Andrew says, wiping his hands on his pants. Sweat, maybe. “When you first showed up…I thought you were really loud. You and that little box both…. You used to play that terr— eh, that music on it all the time. But I haven’t heard it in a while.” Your eyes are drawn to him as he explains. You can’t help it, you’re stunned. Not many of the other survivors bothered to show concern for you, and they often weren’t around because they had their on things to attend to. Luca had his inventions, Ada had Emil’s treatments, Luchino his research. You didn’t know Andrew paid any mind to you. He mostly kept to himself.

“I’m stewing,” you whisper, answering his initial question.

“…Do you…need to talk about it?” he asks.

“You don’t want to hear it,” you reply quickly. Andrew scoffs, a flash of his attitude returning.

“I asked didn’t I? I may not understand half the stuff you say but that doesn’t mean by ears don’t work,” he snaps weakly. It sounds like something someone back home would say. It sounds genuine. You look at Andrew again, now with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat.

“I feel gross,” you croak. Andrew was scowling for a second, but your words shock his face back into something more relaxed. He shifts around again, awkward, unsure, and steps towards the bench. You stop rocking it long enough to let him join you and he sits closer than you would have expected. “I hate it here.” Andrew nods, watching your face, your fidgeting hands, your bouncing knees, and everything spills out like vomit.

“It’s all gone. Everything I knew. There’s nothing to do here besides survive, necessities and shit, and everyone fucking hates me here. No one talks like I’m used to, or behaves like I’m used to, or treats me like I’m used to—but I’m the odd one out so it feels like it’s all my fault that I don’t fit in. I miss my friends, my clothes, my room, my food. I miss my movies, I miss my technology, I miss my products—you guys don’t even treat hygiene the same way we did back home for fuck’s sake--” You’d learned early on that it was considered odd to bathe daily. Water reserves weren’t a concern in the manor, but everyone mostly stuck to the routines they knew. The only saving grace was that you hadn’t had a menstrual cycle since before you arrived. One less thing to worry about, at least.

“—and thank god, because none of you even KNOW what a tampon is!” Andrew makes a face that’s something between embarrassment and horror. You can tell from the way he’s subtly looking himself over that he wonders if he seems gross to you, but you’re too deep in your own misery to bring it up right now.

“And I’m sick of how some of them men here treat me! I don’t give a fuck what it was like for you all, I’m an equal to you all, god damn it, not a punching bag, or a whore, or unpaid maid! Like—I get that you all don’t realize what you’re doing—I get you haven’t been told it’s bad yet, but I’m gonna crack Edgar’s glass jaw if he suggests I wear a skirt ‘like the other ladies’ one more time!”

“If it helps,” Andrew says quietly, “I think that’s just him liking skirts. He’d probably wear one himself if he had an excuse.”

“I don’t care,” you gasp, grabbing Andrew’s forearm suddenly. He tenses under your touch, blushes. “It’s—it’s just all of it together! Look, I-I already feel bad being so angry! I understand why I seem scary, and I understand the world was a different place for me, but I hate that I have to say goodbye to all of it just because no one wants to learn about how things were for me! Fuckin—Emily was interested in how I lived through Covid, but all that got me was being treated like a plague rat. You guys don’t even get sick here! And Norton asked about the economy, but now he thinks I’m some rich bitch when I wasn’t even middle class! And Fiona acts like I’m some beast because of how I talk and curse so much! And Kevin asks about me feeling safe, but then he treats me like a damsel who needs constant rescue! I just…I just….it’s always something! I just want someone to treat me like I’m normal again.”

You crumple into full sobs, forehead landing on Andrew’s sturdy shoulder. He’s completely silent while you break down. His free hand eventually comes up to hold the back of your neck, a gesture that tells you it’s fine for you to be there, against him. Andrew is not a man of many comforting words, but this is enough, you decide. It’s an effort, which feels like more than you’ve gotten in some time.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, but when you finally calm down Andrew suggests you get some sleep.

“I’m not tired,” you croak. You are. It’s a lie. But if you sleep it will be tomorrow instead of being this moment of rare comfort. Andrew hums an acknowledgement.

“Alright. Neither am I," he says.

You think that’s a lie, too.

[thedorkurge]

fic prompt: Durge feeling jealous and possessive because of some noble flirting with Gortash :)

This was a fun flip on my last prompt, thanks for the suggestion<3

You can read it under the cut or on ao3

Green-eyed Monster (1,5k)

It was incredible how close you could get to the most well protected people of the Gate simply by climbing a few pillars.

People never looked up. It seemed pointless to bother with such high and elaborate ceilings when most people never bothered to tilt their heads upwards to appreciate it. But it worked in Durge’s favor, of course, allowing him to perch on elaborately carved rafters that no one else could see.

This was the part of his job that the urges were never really good at. Observing, planning, sitting still for hours at a time before your prey was in the right position. It was a kind of hunt, but not the kind he preferred.

Sharp eyes scanned the crowd before finding the one person actually worth observing.

Enver Gortash.

The soon-to-be lord was dazzling the guests with stories that Durge could not make out over the idle chatter of the nobles below him. Not that he really cared what was said, after all, Enver could talk a lot without really saying anything. No, Durge’s focus was on one particular person in Enver’s adoring crowd.

He was too close. 

Leaning in, hands ghosting over Enver’s arms. The way his gaze blatantly traced Enver’s form made Durge want to rip his eyes out.

It didn’t help that Enver had taken a healing potion today. All marks from their last night together were gone, leaving a blank canvas that might give other people ideas.

The urges growled within. His father did not approve of his choice of lover, but the urges hated sharing more than they hated Gortash.

He didn’t want the noble’s grubby little fingerprints all over his kill.

Because Gortash was his. Not in any romantic sense, of course. There were no expectations of exclusivity, both of them all too happy to use their sexuality in pursuit of their own goals. Durge hadn’t stopped his more depraved forms of worship, and Enver had continued to charm his way through the upper layers of baldurian society. 

Their sexual relationship was born out of convenience and mutual fascination. There was no reason to pretend otherwise. And yet, Durge found himself itching for a kill whenever he saw someone else’s hand on Enver, or smelled a foreign perfume on his skin.

It was ridiculous, but he knew better than to question his murderous instincts.

These days, the line between “his kill” and “his lover” was getting increasingly blurred. It was slowly but surely becoming a distinction without a difference. 

So to see someone else try to lay any sort of claim to Enver Gortash left a bad taste in his mouth. Especially someone like Theobald Rykwin. 

The half-elven noble had little other than his looks going for him, being a minor lord with no military or political ties to speak of. Rumor had it that he had blown the family fortune on parties and gambling, making him an awful prospect for a business relationship. Hells, Enver was higher on the food chain than this man. There was nothing to be gained, so what was the point? Wasn’t there better things Enver could be doing? 

Perhaps he ought to teach the banite a lesson about wasting valuable time.

A corpse on his doorstep would do nicely.

He waited for Rykwin to break away from the company, more patient now that he had a kill in mind. He didn’t have to wait long before the nobleman excused himself and headed towards the bathrooms. He never heard Durge coming. The long hallway led him away from the ballroom, along the edge of the building where the pouring rain outside disguised the sounds of the dragonborn’s footsteps. Rykwin barely got a sound out before he was pulled through a back entrance, and onto the wet cobblestones in the deserted courtyard. 

Durge had gotten lucky this time. Usually killing at parties required discretion, but thanks to the rain no one was outside. The thick brick walls, distant rumbles of thunder, and heavy downpour would hide his screams perfectly.

The half-elf was still on the ground, sputtering and wheezing from having the breath knocked out of him. Whatever indignant questions he was about to ask were interrupted by the bored voice of his attacker. “You should run.”

The nobleman got to his feet, far too slowly for someone in this much danger. In spite of it, he stood tall. Durge probably would have respected that, if he believed it was a show of bravery. Unfortunately, he knew better. Indignation, outrage, the way he looked at Durge like he was the scum of the earth. This man wasn’t brave, he was prideful. And frankly, rather stupid. Honestly, what did Enver see in him?

“Have you lost your mind? This is outrageous, do you have any idea who I-“

His stream of words was interrupted by a mouthful of his own teeth, as Durge’s fist connected with his face.

This time he didn’t give him time to get back up, instead digging his knee into the man’s abdomen and putting his weight on him. His screams were muffled slightly by the blood in his mouth, but they still managed to grow louder with every punch. 

Until they stopped completely. 

Durge was breathing heavily when he finally backed away from the pulped mass of flesh. It wasn’t the kind of kill he was used to, rarely using his hands so crudely, but it felt right this time. The half-elf’s handsome face had been reduced to nothing, finally reflecting his worth on the outside. His chest had caved in, fine elven bones no match for the dragonborn’s weight.

The rain only grew heavier, washing away the blood that had spilled onto the stone.

Durge’s breathing finally evened out, as he looked at his well-executed kill.

“Well, that was quite a show.”

Durge tensed up. He wasn’t aware of his audience until this very moment. Either his instincts had been dulled by the thrill of the kill, or Enver had used an invisibility potion.

It was troubling that his senses had grown so accustomed to Enver’s presence. Usually he would have sensed an unwelcome guest immediately.

“I don’t recall inviting an audience.” He scrubbed his raw knuckles methodically, using a scrap of Rykwin’s cloak. It wasn’t like the lord had any use for it anymore.

“Given that this was a private function, this hardly seems like an appropriate time to discuss invitations.” Enver stepped closer, mindful not to get blood on his clothes as he took in the corpse. “Now what did he do to deserve that?”

Durge wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that. His reasoning had seemed sound at the time, but he couldn’t find a way to say it out loud without sounding completely pathetic. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Is that so?” Enver looked at the pulped mess that had once been Rykwin’s face with a frown. “A shame. He was quite handsome.”

It was bait. Durge knew that. He knew Enver was just pushing his buttons. 

“Oh I’m sure you’ll find someone else to warm your bed for the night. If your standards have fallen so low, you’ll be spoiled for options.” He inwardly cursed the bitter edge that snuck into his voice. Especially when he saw the smug grin on Enver’s face. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy, dear?”

Durge shot him a withering glare that would have had anyone else running for the hills.

It was a ridiculous notion. The Dark Urge did not feel jealous. It was a ridiculous emotion, useless to him. He had everything he needed, his cult, his father’s love, his purpose. All he felt for living beings was hatred and disdain. It was troubling that he couldn’t identify the feelings in his chest as either.

“You overestimate your own importance, banite.”

“I don’t think so.”

Durge scoffed slightly, ready to retaliate when Enver stepped closer. The gauntlet, a fairly new addition to his ensemble, traced the skin above the dragonborn’s blood-soaked collar. “You know…” The claws sank into his flesh, securing Enver’s hand around the throat that would otherwise be too wide for human hands. And Durge let him, with nothing more than a short growl. Another thing to repent for. “You aren’t the only one that dislikes sharing.”

The dragonborn’s hand wrapped around Enver’s wrist, the claw on his thumb placed threateningly over the banite’s pulse point. “At least I have the decency to kill mine.” All pretense was gone. There was no point, they both already knew why he had killed Rykwin, even if Durge refused to admit it.

“Darling, decency never had any part in this.” His other hand traced a path down Durge’s front. He could feel every moment of it through his rain-soaked clothes. “We’re Death and Tyranny. If we want something, we take it.”

As much as he loathed to admit it, Enver had a point. He was Bhaal’s blood, his chosen. The world was his to play with, as was everyone in it. The banite was no exception. 

Durge would make sure that anyone who set eyes upon the future Archduke knew exactly who he belonged to. And if anyone didn’t heed the warning, he’d simply kill them. He’d butcher his way through the Gate, and then the world, until everything was his and his alone. 

As Enver’s back was pushed against the brick wall, the rain dulled all sound, allowing their moans to be swallowed by the night.

[s7-evermore]

Ch. 3 - Terms and Conditions

This is The Boyfriend Contract series, Chapter 3. Inspired by The Love Hypothesis and The Business Proposal. Azul Ashengrotto x fem! Yuu (reader). You can view this on ao3.

Ch. 2 | Next chapter

Terms and conditions, in contracts, refer to the contractual rights and obligations of a party to any contract. Also known as that long list of word vomit you skip when downloading a new game or app— but when it comes to Azul Ashengrotto, one must lay down some sort of groundwork.

A lot of unexpected things happen in Yuu’s life. A good example is suddenly waking up in a new world after accidentally falling into a nearby river upon seeing a carriage pop up behind her.

Not a fun story.

Aside from that, one of the most unexpected things she had done her whole life was what she was doing right now.

Standing in front of Azul’s office.

Floyd willingly escorted her there but left as soon as they reached the door. He gave her a toothy grin, wishing her luck before leaving her alone. Weirdo. But then again, that word alone wasn’t enough to describe Floyd Leech.

(As a magicless student, Yuu was at the very very bottom of the chain. This made her a consistent target of whoever felt like messing with her, fellow freshmen or upperclassmen. Today, however, people seemed too intimidated to do or say shit to her face, and she was sure that it was thanks to a certain rumor that spread like wildfire throughout the school.

During a joint class with a second-year class in Potionology, some students stopped stealing her vials and ingredients when she wasn’t looking, and none of them tried to put the chemicals she needed on higher, unreachable, shelves (which was a common prank they liked to pull on her, all thanks to her five-foot-three ass).

In Gym class, when one of her classmates accidentally hit her with a soccer ball, he apologized so profusely that Yuu almost felt guilty for getting hit.

In Sam’s store during a free period, when she wanted to get the last pack of her favorite Gummy worms, the student who took it from right under her nose had generously given it to her when he realized who she was.

And during lunch, no one dared to cut in front of her when she lined up, they wouldn’t touch Grim or her friends either.

“Damn, seems like being friends with a housewarden’s girlfriend comes with some perks,” Ace grinned as he took a bite of his lunch. He managed to snag one of the good items on the menu before they sold out, all because those in the line with them were too afraid to mess with Yuu.

“Guess Yuu dating Azul isn’t so bad after all,” the ginger boy added.

She felt a little guilty exploiting a huge misunderstanding, but this was Night Raven College. She will take what she could get.

And maybe… just maybe… this would help her out.)

She took a deep breath and flexed her fingers before knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” Azul’s voice, muffled by the door, called out.

“Um, it’s me. Are you busy?”

She heard a little bit of shuffling from the other side before hearing him say: “No, not too much. Come in.”

She took another breath before twisting the doorknob. He was seated behind his desk, and from the looks of it, he must have been working on some documents. He had a small stack of them on his left, indicating that they were done with, and on his right was a sheaf of papers.

“Take a seat,” he gestured to one of the couches before standing up to sit in front of her. “I take it you came here to talk about last time?”

Straight to the point, but then again, she wasn’t planning on stalling either.

“Uh, yeah. I thought about it for a bit, and…and it might actually be a good idea.”

For several reasons, the contract would get a lot of people off her back, persistent admirers, and bullies. Her friends didn’t seem to be as strongly against it as they had been during the weekend, and if they had their suspicions, they kept it to themselves.

Whatever happened during the weekend, Ace simply said that he and the others were willing to accept whatever she had with Azul as long as he wasn’t holding her hostage with a contract. They didn’t press for an explanation either, only saying that she could tell them and the others when she felt ready.

They may be troublemakers in their own right, but she loved these boys to death.

Azul had a small smile on his face, very professional, but it had a little something in it that Yuu couldn’t pinpoint, “Very well. Shall we get to the details?”

He stood up momentarily to pick up a sheaf of papers from his desk before settling back into his seat. He placed a piece of paper in front of her— the first page of their contract.

“I’ve written down the basic terms and conditions of our agreement after you left,” he said.

She tilted her head, “Did you already expect me to say yes?”

“To be honest, not really. But my foresight allows me to be prepared for any eventuality,” his face had its usual modest expression, it was as if he wouldn’t care at all if she decided to discard the whole fake dating idea.

To be fair, since it was Azul she was dealing with, she was sure he would have found another way to get the deal he wanted one way or another.

She picked up the paper and read it carefully. After dealing with his contract in the past, she learned to read all her contracts properly despite how long they might be. She made sure to look for fine prints that she might miss, just to be safe.

Once she was sure that the conditions were written correctly with no elaborate wording that may cause misunderstandings, she nodded and placed the paper back down.

“Is it sufficient for you?” He asked, “If you wish to add more to our terms, you may do so, but keep in mind that I might have to make some changes of my own as well, you know, to keep the balance.”

“The conditions are fine, and… actually, I would like to set some ground rules, my own terms, if you will.”

There was a hint of a smirk on his face, “You seem to have thought this through more than I expected you to. And here I was thinking you would thoughtlessly sign this one.”

She shrugged, “it’s standard protocol when it comes to fake-dating relationships.”

He raised a brow, “standard protocol?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you done something like this before?”

“The contracts or the fake-dating?”

“The latter.”

“Nope. I just know the trope.”

He blinked, “The what..?”

She ignored his confusion and shook her head, “Okay, first of all, you will not use our agreement as an incentive to lure my friends into a contract.”

He sighed, “I suppose I expected that. You’re strangely attached to those boys.”

“You’d know how it feels if you had people you consider precious to you, outside of business that is,” she said, waving his remark off. That seemed to shut him up. “Anyway. Second, before making any relationship-related decisions, you will always, and I mean always tell me first before deciding anything. Ask for my consent, and I’ll ask you for yours.”

“Deal.”

“Third rule,” it was going to be weird, but it was necessary. She braced herself, “No sex.”

His eyes widened as he stared at her with parted lips. He didn’t move, not even a single inch save for the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His reaction made her heart sink to her stomach, was he… was he expecting to…with her… at some point…? Was it…? Did he…?

Panic rose in her heart as she tried to stand up, “Um, I’m sorry, if you were expecting us to, uh, do that, then I’m afraid I can’t—“

“No!” Life returned to him in an instant, “No, no it’s nothing like that. I was just... surprised. I didn’t think it would be important enough to bring it up.”

Oh… then maybe she was the weirdo here.

“S-Sorry… I was just—“

He shook his head, “No, it’s alright. You’re straightforward. I wouldn’t want to do anything that made you uncomfortable. Terms like that are important for setting up mutual agreements after all…” he coughed into a gloved fist. “My apologies.”

His awkward movements weren’t hard to miss, the professional persona he had built up in front of her crumbled, and all that was left was an awkward teenage boy.

He then nodded firmly, “Okay, no sex.”

And, well, it is awkward, because she’s sitting in his office alone with him, talking about sex. Of all things.

“Yes, no sex,” she repeated.

Okay. Don’t think about it. Back to the rules.

“Anyway, uh fourth rule— or whatever. It’s not really a rule, but you can hold me accountable for it: during the duration of our agreement, I won’t date anyone else. Like real real dating. You know, to make it believable. I don’t do real dating anyway.”

He simply stared at her.

“Uh! But you can date others if you’d like!” She hastily added, “Just— just not on campus or anywhere anyone can see. It’ll look…kind of stupid.” I’ll look kind of stupid.

He shook his head, “No, it’s fine. I won’t.”

“Awesome! And if ever you do end up dating someone else, then—”

“I won’t date anyone else either.”

…Oh.

“Oh,” she said, rather dumbly. Well, what did she expect, honestly? If Azul was interested in someone else, he wouldn’t be asking her to fake-date him for a potential business contract. “Okay…cool, cool.”

“Anything else?”

“One last rule,” and the most important one.

He nodded, staying silent to let her continue.

“We must never fall in love with each other.”

Something changed within Azul when she said that. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but even though the only thing that changed outwardly was the way his eyes widened a fraction, something with his aura, his being, wavered.

It’s like the way the music changes-- when the vibe of the song changes the atmosphere. It’s the way the air shifts when you realize it’s going to rain soon. It’s… well, it’s the way the look in his eyes changed into something she couldn’t comprehend.

It’s weird, but it’s there.

“Pardon?” He finally spoke.

“I know it sounds weird, but… well, I feel like it’s necessary to say it, as unlikely as it is to happen,” she replied.

It wasn’t as though Azul was unattractive, the complete opposite actually. He was handsome, intelligent, talented, ambitious— he’s probably a lot of other girls’ dream boy. Maybe in the future, he’d find someone for him, but they weren’t there yet. They were right here, right now.

Right now isn’t the time for her to fall in love, not when she has to go home, to the world where she belongs.

Right here isn’t the time for him to fall in love. No… he was ambitious, and she knew that he knew the time wasn’t right for him yet. Not when he’s chasing too much.

Right here, right now, isn’t the time for the both of them.

“Don’t fall in love with me, and I won’t fall in love with you,” she continued. “If any of us starts feeling anything similar to love for each other, we must terminate the contract immediately.”

“Understandable,” he said, pushing up his glasses. They reflected the light well enough that she couldn’t see his eyes for a moment. “No falling in love.”

“No falling in love,” she nodded.

“Are those all?” He asked.

“Yup! All five of my terms. Well, if you can even call them that… uh, is there anything else you want to add?”

“No. I’ve already put down what I wanted, which is everything you’ve initially read.”

“And you’ll consider my terms?”

“There’s no consideration needed. Your terms are reasonable, so I must comply.”

“You’re…weirdly compliant with this.”

“It’s a mutual contract, is it not?” He said questioningly, “While I don’t need to use my signature spell, a contract is a contract.”

And he stays true to them… 

“Alright! Then I must keep up my end of the bargain. So how should we go about this? Should we start getting coffee together or something?”

“Coffee? Like coffee dates?” He asked.

“Oh? So you’re familiar with them? Have you ever had a coffee date, Azul?” She asked teasingly.

He frowned, “You know full well I haven’t.”

“I know. I was kidding,” she giggled, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of either. Well, unless you were me on my first date.”

He raised a brow, looking rather interested, “Oh? Sounds like a nice conversation topic--" he smirked, "--for a date."

“Well too bad, there are other more interesting topics,” she rolled her eyes, “when are you free? Since you’re a housewarden, your mornings must be packed.”

“We can have coffee and breakfast together in the cafeteria on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Occasionally Fridays too, but I will have to contact you on that every now and then,” he explained.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays then,” she said with a smile, "And maybe Fridays."

“Is that a deal?” He extended his hand.

With a deep breath, Yuu took his hand. His fingers wrapped around hers like tendrils, and he shook them, firmly and gently.

She noticed they were warm, big, and...... gloveless.

“It’s a deal.”