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spicycrispychicken · 2 years

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Spencer Reid x Reader -- Sweatshirt

Class: Fluff, Romance, Slight 18+ Includes: Fluff, minimal 18+, cuddling, Spencer’s favorite sweatshirt, sappiness Plot: Reader gets cold during a movie night and wants to wear Spencer’s sweatshirt. He refuses-- let the games begin. A/N: My first Spencer Reid x Reader oneshot! Let me know what you think, and if you have any requests! -------------------

"I've got the popcorn! Start it!" Spencer jumped onto the couch beside you, grinning ear and causing you to squeak in surprise as you almost fell into him.

An easy laugh slipped from your lips as your eager boyfriend nestled in beside you, resting the blue plastic bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He pulled you into him, trapping you against his chest with deceivingly strong arms. You laughed again, squirming a bit to get more comfortable before starting the movie-- Pet Sematary. Spencer had convinced you to watch a horror movie with him, as his favorite Holiday was quickly approaching and it would help set the mood for it. He didn't actually own a television, so your house was the only option.

"Did you know," the doctor began, a common introduction to another info dump session, "Pet Sematary--the book-- was actually so unsettling to Stephen King that he wasn't even planning on publishing it in the first place? He only did so to fulfill a publishing contract he wanted to get out of. It was also inspired by a real life situation, too. Back when he was a resident of..." and he rambled on, and on, and on. You usually didn't stop him, because you couldn't. You found your heart swelling with affection every time he did this, and you hung onto every word he uttered. However, he was still info dumping when the first scene rolled around.

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips to silence him, and you felt his body tighten then relax as a result. He looked dazed when you pulled away, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "The movie is starting, Spence." "O-Oh. Sorry," he responded sheepishly. "Don't apologize," you smiled warmly before snuggling back into him. He placed a kiss on top of your head and settled in.

This was bliss. You couldn’t think of anywhere you would rather be than here with him-- granted, you weren’t thrilled that he insisted on a horror movie, but the way his face lit up when you agreed to it made it worth it. You really couldn’t express how much you adored him... well, actually, you could. You wanted so badly to finally tell him that you loved him, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. He was easily spooked, and was relatively new to the dating game. You hesitated because you didn’t want to scare him off. Saying it too soon would do that, no doubt. It had been five months, but there was no guaranteeing that Spencer was ready yet.

It was getting harder and harder with every passing day.

You hadn’t realized how distracted you’d been until you felt a shiver run through you. It was colder in the house than you realized. Spencer was warm, but not warm enough to keep a chill from nipping at you. You squirmed a bit more in his arms, which he loosened a bit to give you more free range.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just cold...” you eyed his baggy sweatshirt, one of his favorites to lounge around in. You knew it to be very fuzzy on the inside because he once made you feel the inside of his sleeve. He squinted at you, and it didn’t take him more than a beat to realize what you were looking at and why. You wanted to wear his sweatshirt.

“No... no, this one is my favorite one!” “Please!” You begged. He shook his head and moved his arms off of you to cross them over his chest, as if protecting the sweatshirt. “No! I won’t see it again for a month!” “Don’t be such a drama queen. Give,” you grabbed at the fabric of his sleeves. He laughed and remained stubborn, even sticking his tongue out at you mockingly. You gasped. Spencer managed to wiggle himself free from under you and bolted into the kitchen. You scrambled to your feet and chased after him, leaving the movie playing for an empty couch and untouched popcorn.

When you made it to the kitchen, your boyfriend was standing at the far end, his arms still crossed. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why can’t you get one of your own? You have six of them... and that purple snuggy,” he tried to reason. “Four of them are in the dirty laundry, actually.” “Fine. Two sweatshirts and a purple snuggy. Why does it have to be mine?” He tensed up as you neared him. When you lunged to wrap your arms around him, he swerved quickly (though not gracefully) around you. You narrowly missed, stumbling and whirling around to see that he was already backing towards the other end of the kitchen.

“Spencer!” You laughed through his name. “Stay away!” He tried not to laugh, but the wide smile and bright look in his eyes gave away how amused he was by your failed attempt to grab him. Spencer ran, and you followed him, all the way into your room and around the rug in the middle of your floor. He nearly slipped in his socks on the hardwood, but he managed to steady himself. You closed some of the space between the two of you during his clumsy display, but his long legs carried him back out of your room and into the living room where it began.

Your heart was racing, and you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. “Just give up and give me the sweatshirt,” you said lowly. You both stood still, trying to stare the other down. “Never.” “Spence.” “It’s not happening! Sorry, you’ll just have to go get one of yours.” “Why don’t we trade? You can wear my green one with the blue sleeves, and I’ll wear yours?” “That-- literally makes no sense! You would be going to get the sweatshirt to give to me, so why not put it on?”

You pouted, but Spencer remained stubborn. You paused to think about what might get him to break. You began to formulate an idea, putting together a quick and easy plan.

You walked up to Spencer, slower this time. He backed up, about to make another run for it. You held up your hands in front of you. The nerdy agent squinted at you, testing the waters by staying still.

“Fine, fine...” you said slowly. “You look really cute in it anyway.” “I-I do?” Spencer was hesitant. You felt your heart in your throat now, anxious about what you had planned. You tried to hide it though. You swallowed your heartbeat, and by the time you were close enough to reach out and touch him, he was turning red. Maybe it was the devilish smile that crept its way to your lips, or the way you looked his lanky figure up and down. In the few times that you slept with Spencer, you had learned that he was typically submissive in situations like the one you were creating. You were going to work that to your advantage.

“Mhm. What? Haven’t I told you that before?” you questioned him with a coyish glint in your eyes. You stepped closer to him, reaching up and tracing your fingers along his jawline. Your eyes met his before wandering to his mouth. You brushed your thumb against his bottom lip, causing his breath to catch in his throat. He swallowed hard.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Spencer’s words came out in an almost breathless rush. You grinned, meeting his hazel eyes again. “Mm~hm, of course you do. You know everything... you and that big brain of yours. I mean, I can only think of one thing bigger,” you grinned cheekily and flashed a glance down, then let your eyes roam his face as your thigh pressed against him. Spencer let out a gasp, leaning into you involuntarily. You cupped his face, bringing it closer so you could kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Your big heart.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. Clearly that wasn’t the answer he expected. You blinked at him with mockingly innocent eyes. “What? It’s the thing I love most about you, Spencer~”

And there it was.

You hoped he hadn’t caught it, but you knew you weren’t lucky enough for that. Spencer stared at you, wide eyed and slack jawed for a different reason now. You stepped away from him and threw your hands over your mouth.

“Did-- you just...?” Spencer stammered. You nodded slowly in response. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. You mustered up the will to tear your hands away from your burning face.

“I... I’m sorry. It just slipped out! I wasn’t thinking and--” “Well... did you mean it?” He asked, looking at you with knitted brows. You were silent, but you nodded sheepishly. “Well then say it,” he placed his hands behind your elbows. You met his longing gaze, one that gave away the beg in his request. Suddenly, you realized your hesitation had been unjustified all this time. Spencer had expressed his love for you in many ways, as you had for him. It was only a matter of saying it now.

“I love you,” You breathed with a growing smile. Spencer grinned ear to ear. “I love you too!” Excitement dripped from every word of his proclamation. His hands moved slowly to cup your face. The smile didn’t leave his perfect lips, even as he pressed them against yours. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed on instinct, and everything began to melt away. As corny as this felt, you loved every bit of it. That was when the television roared, causing you to scream shortly and whirl around. Even Spencer jumped a little. But you both sighed in relief when you realized it was just the movie you’d left playing.

Spencer doubled over laughing at your reaction. You crossed your arms and swatted playfully at his arm. “Not funny!” “Uh, yeah it actually was,” he insisted when he finished laughing at you. “Don’t act like you didn’t get startled, too!” “No, I did! But at least I didn’t scream like a little kid,” he gave you a playful shove. You scoffed and buried into him again, muttering “Rude” lowly, but loud enough for him to hear. Spencer hugged you tightly, sighing happily and swaying side to side with you.

“Can I have the sweatshirt because you love me?” You blurted out. Spencer tilted his head back and laughed, then groaned in defeat. He let go of you to slip the sweatshirt over his head, revealing a white t-shirt that clung to him. He pulled the sweatshirt over your head, trapping your arms inside. You smiled broadly as you were pulled back into him like before, your arms still trapped inside. You hummed, satisfied with your victory and the total fluffy warmth that enveloped you.

You would be sure to express the depth of your gratitude to him later.

#spencerxreader #spencerreid #criminalmindsimagines #y/n #criminalmindsfluff #spencerreidfluff #spencerreidxreaderfluff #spencerreidoneshot #oneshot

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youn9racha · 2 years

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helo my sweet! how are you lately :3 (i can't emoji because i'm on laptop but anyways) I FORGOT TO TELL YOU DJGNSKDNFS finals ended and i'm free at last (but for like a few weeks only because enrollment for the next semester is starting TT-TT)

but yeah! i got a new phone btw! i'm still using my tablet, but since i finally got a new phone, i'm planning on doing an smau sooooo 0-0

also hhhhhh since i'm free now, i might finally finish that fic i've been working on as a surprise (not a surprise anymore lmao TT-TT) for you! YEY!!! \(>w<)/

but also, the engagement on this platform really is hard ;-; i've published fics and yet i only been getting like and not much comments or tagged reblogs ;-; it's kind of discouraging to look at honestly ;-; i mean i'm thankful for the likes and all, but most of all i want to know the thoughts of the readers about the fics ;-; though i might not reply to some of them (especially since i don't know how to really form a reply sometimes ;-;) i'd actually appreciate how they'd still let me know their thoughts :( i actually thought of giving up tumblr after maybe finishing the series i'm currently working on

but hhhh yeah that's how i feel atm ;w; a bit dizzy/nauseous if we're talking health or physical-wise! since i'm going through my period ;w; but yeah, i've also been going out a bit more than before, trying to get used to travelling since i have really bad motion sickness and i heard we might have a face to face class at the start of the semester (omg i'm sorry i'm rambling again to you ;-;)

HI BESTIEEE !!!!! IM DOING GREAT !!!! ALSO CONGRATS ON FINISHING UP YOUR FINALS !!!!!! ALSO CONGRATS ON THE NEW PHONE !!!!

ik that feeling about the whole engagement thing, especially since i also had a rocky start from when i came back from my hiatus, where i had little to no engagement even after posting like three fics since my return.

it was only my recent felix fic where i started to get more engagement and traction. lino’s was a close second because i had engagement at first but then crashed literally the next day lmfao. but even so, for some reason there has been a rise of blank accounts and just liking posts without givibg their feedbacks 💔 it’s disheartening really, and it really demotivates us.

i have been thinking of leaving as well but idk i kinda like being here despite everything y’know ? but thats just me. although it’d suck to see you leave, but i won’t entirely blame you, all i can say is just think about it before you decide to leave or not.

anyway, while im hyped that you have the free time to write that “surprise” fic, please put your health first and rest when you can. you’ve been through enough health wise its only fair you rest rn. the fic can wait and im not going anywhere anytime soon, so don’t feel rushed and always take care of yourself 🫶🫶

also ramble all you want thats okay !!! im always here to listen (or in this case read lmfao)

#ella’s mailbox （╹◡╹）#strwbrryblues

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— GOJO SATORU || JEALOUS TYPE

↳ featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sleeping pills and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 05 february

↳ pronouns : non specified in imagine

↳ word count : 1.3k

↳ synopsis : waking up without your husband in bed with you, you decided to go search for him only to find him filling out paperwork that was long overdue.

↳ request : Hi!! Can i request a gojo x reader where gojo is doing some paperwork and the reader cant fell asleep without him so gojo made her sit on his lap while doing some paperwork and the reader falls asleep? When gojo is finished in his paperwork he went to sleep with the reader in their bedroom. Can you please make it fluffy? Thank you! I also love all of your works!

↳ barista’s notes : so...awkward times when some of your coffee orders (requests) disappear from your inbox hahahaha.....ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ but after i have written some of my ideas, i will update the ‘coffees in progress page’ (wip) for you guys to see if your requested got/didn’t get deleted! i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please don’t be shy to order again soon ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

“When are you going to finish?”

Turning around from his seat, Gojo’s bright crystal eyes instantly caught the adorable sight of you standing by the doorway, wearing one of his large black jumpers paired with the classic black three-stripe Adidas shorts, as you covered your eyes trying to adjusting to the new lighting of the single lamp that was on.

“I’m doing some paperwork honey~” Gojo cheekily commented while twirling the pencil he was holding in his hand causing you to look at your husband in complete annoyance since you were the one that kept constantly reminding him that he needed to get his work done or he was going to sleep really late with the chances of him being at a slight disadvantage when coming into contact with curses - but, of course, he didn’t listen and using the excuse of ‘don’t worry, I’m the strongest’.

“I told you to do it earlier, why didn’t you listen to me?” you asked in an irritated tone, as you then processed to walk up to the ‘hard-working’ man causing Gojo to smile as he managed to get a closer look at you without him asking.

From closer inspection, Gojo could tell you were still extremely tired due to how heavy your eyes looked since it seemed like you were struggling to keep them open, your hair was tangled and messy but that was one of Gojo’s favourite things to see but he would rather see it in the morning rather than sleep-deprived as you were at this moment in time.

Ever since you and Gojo established your romantic relationship during the second-year, he slowly began to realise that you would sleep as early as possible even when the shorthand of the clock just hit the number 7 in the evening. At first, he didn’t really care too much about it at first, he just thought you weren’t a night owl at all. However, he remembered one day you came into class with such dark circles, he couldn’t help but worry.

“Ahhh~ I have trouble sleeping in general, sleeping pills don’t work at all as well, so that’s why I sleep early.”

After that little discussion, Gojo made it his role to make sure you got enough sleep for the next day even if he had to stay in your room all night to make sure and it was still that same ever since you both got married. However, there were times when he had to overwork due to the number of missions that higher-ups passed on to him causing him to worry from time to time, but it seemed like you were slowly improving to which he was so proud of you for.

“Can’t sleep without me?” Gojo teased, leading to a frown to grow on your face which caused you to turn around as you weren’t in the mood to deal with his nuisance at 2 am in the morning. However, before you could even take a single step back to your shared bedroom, you suddenly felt a large hand wrap its fingers around your wrist leading to a halt in your moment. Gently, you were pulled back leading to you to lose your footing due to your drowsiness before an arm wrapped itself on your back preventing you from falling onto the wooden floor.

Blinking in surprise, you steadily came to the realisation that you now were on your husband’s lap as his other arm had dropped the pen he was holding to reach over to the couch where a spare blanket was placed, which was suddenly covering you from the cool air that was surrounding the room. “Go to sleep, I’ll take you back to bed when I’m done,” the white-haired sorcerer commented with a soft tone, causing you to look up at him before giving into the chance as your slyly wrapped your arms around his neck before pressing your face into his shoulder to get away from the bright light that your eyes weren’t still adjusted to.

Tenderly, one of Gojo’s hands began to run up and down your back trying to soothe you to sleep while his other hand went back to the pen that was abandoned to continue filling out the forms he was meant to do a week ago. Smiling, he leaned his head lightly against yours trying to relish the feeling of you needing him since he knew that the moment you both leave the four walls that were surrounding you, you wouldn’t show this vulnerable side to him. You refused to.

Comparing you to your personal life to your professional life, you clearly had two different personalities. When you were at school, you were cool, calm and collective, sometimes a little too blunt but there was a perfect mix of teasing that came along with it - clearly influenced by the one and only, himself. He vividly remembered the time when you joked about Fushiguro being the type to kick a stray cat after saying ‘such a nuisance’ or the time you joked that Itadori was the type to push a door that says ‘pull’ leading Kugisaki to laugh hysterically while both of the mentioned boys began to argue, yet the second you pat their hands and say ‘I’m only joking’, they both would suddenly calm down.

On the other hand, when you were at home with him or alone, you were more relaxed from your professional behaviour and sweet, leading him to wonder what switch did you flicker to change your brain. But he never questioned it. To be honest, he rather not since he knew the moment he would mention it, you would revert back to your work personality and not the kind and sweet one that was reserved for him.

“I would tell you to be more like that at work, but I’m too much of the jealous type,” Gojo whispered even though he knew that you were already asleep due to your light breathing pattern and how the tight hold you had around his neck slightly loosened.

Signing off the last sheet that was on the towering pile, Gojo let out a sigh of relief before turning his head to get a quick sight of you, only to find that you were still in an unconscious state leading to the special grade sorcerer to look at the time on his phone to find that an hour had passed. 3:05 am.

Carefully reaching over to the lamp, Gojo flicked the switch causing the lighting to gradually disappear before slowly pushing out his chair as he looped an arm under your knees as he picked you up bridal style. Quickly making his way to your shared bedroom, Gojo began to gently place you down onto your side of the bed before slowly beginning to unhook the arms that were still around his neck. However, before he could even move to his side, he felt your hand instinctively grab his hand causing the playful man to look at you with a smile on his face as he looked down at your sleeping figure.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” Gojo whispered as he lightly stroked your cheek resulting in the grip of your hand to loosen as if you were awake to understand him. Climbing into his side of the bed, Gojo carefully pulled you into his arms causing you to snuggle further into the warmth that he was generously providing you before subconsciously wrapping an arm around his body wanting to keep him as close to you as possible.

“Yeah, I’m too much of the jealous type to let you show this side of you” Gojo mumbled as he slowly closed his eyes, following your route to a slumber that he had been desperate for since the moment he had you in his arms.

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quirklessidiot · 3 years

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Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes: can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope] Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] || lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus like every child you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’ and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly.

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you.

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different.

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed, arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.”

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!”

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten.

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?”

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,”

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked.

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.��

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.” you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment.

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it.

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?”

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?”

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo x reader #saturo x y/n #jjk gojo #soulmate aus #pretty eyes

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fanartfunart · 3 years

Text

Fly Away

Episode 4: Bibliotech

Ao3 - First - 2 - 3

(Féline Sombre & Paon Lilas designs)

Summery: An AU where Adrien never went to in-person school, not getting the cat miraculous, and found the peacock miraculous. -Adrien sets out to find the Grimoire, and Alya volunteers her investigative skills, interviewing her classmates. Until a librarian gets akumatized and traps them all in a maze of books.

(tw for sickness. very vauge. Much like canon)

Alya hummed along to her CD of Nino’s music, ignoring the sounds of siblingly chaos outside her room. Her phone buzzed and she looked down at the text.

Double A: “Hi, you’re the local superhero expert, right?”

She chuckled at Adrien’s question and texted back, “The one and only! Why? Whatcha wondering about?”

“I’m looking for a specific book, actually? An older one about superheros, with lots of different kinds. Seen it anywhere?”

She tilted her head “Just the one you said Chloé took from your dad’s???”

Adrien spent a long time typing only for his reply to read “Oh. Of course, thank you.”

Alya frowned and called him. Adrien picked up with a delay, piano music playing in the background. His voice was hushed “Hi, uh, why are you calling me?”

“What’s going on? Did you not know what kind of book Chloé, or I guess your dad, had?”

“Oh...oh um. No, no I did. Of course I knew what kind of book it was, that’s why I was asking about it. Because it’s lost and I wanted to find it, for my dad,” Adrien chuckled awkwardly.

“Why are you whispering? Are you at a concert?”

“Oh... no I’m supposed to be practicing piano right now...”

“Oh so you’re playing a recording? Huh. Smart.” Alya got up and grabbed her shoes. “Want me to ask around for your book then? It’s kinda my thing. Plus, Chloé never let me get close enough to look at it.”

“You’d do that?” Adrien whispered softly.

“Yeah boy! Don’t worry about it. If Chloé lost it during or before the Collector situation then it’s probably not too far from the school’s social circle.”

“Wow great! Oh whoops- I gotta get back to my practice, Natalie’s coming- so uh... goodbye!”

Alya chuckled “Bye Adrien.” They hung up and Alya got ready for her interrogations.

The majority of the students Alya could easily get a hold of knew nothing about where it went. So her only leads were Chloé and Sabrina. They had the same story: Marinette and Lila were the last two people they saw besides each other when the book disappeared.

She met with Lila at the library, Marinette scheduled to meet her not too long after.

Lila was looking at the mystery section when Alya waved her over. "Thank you for meeting with me."

She nodded with a smile, putting down her murder mystery novel, "Of course, what did you need?"

Alya got out her notepad, pen at the ready. "Are you aware that the book Chloé brought to class is missing?"

"It is? Oh no, I didn't. Are you looking for it for her?"

"Not exactly," Alya scribbled down a note. "For its original owner, not Chloé. But! Do you mind describing where you saw it last?"

Lila hummed and shook her head, "I'm sorry, I just remember Chloé showing it to me before she fell and ran off. I thought she had it. Sabrina seemed to really want to leave though."

"I already got Sabrina and Chloé's statements… Marinette was with you, right?"

"Oh! Yes, she was. If you want I can talk to her for you?"

"That's okay," Alya said, "I've already arranged for her to give me her story next. I'm just covering my bases."

Lila hummed and nodded, "If you don't mind my curiosity, who's the original owner?"

"Oh, the Aggrestes," Alya said, "Adrien asked me to help."

Lila raised a brow, "Adrien? He's the one whose face is plastered practically all across Paris, yes?"

Alya chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, I guess he's a little famous. He's pretty cool. He almost was gonna be in our class, actually. He would've transferred in just before you," she shrugged, "Guess his dad changed his mind."

Lila tapped her fingers across the mystery novel's cover and smiled, "Well, I don't have much else for you. Hope you find it for him. It seemed like a special book." Lila stood up, and they waved goodbye.

Adrien quietly walked up to the librarian. He smiled, “Hi.”

The librarian looked up with a barely suppressed annoyance, “Hello. How can I help you?”

"I was looking for books related to superheroes?"

He sighed, "Right there. Very popular lately." He pointed lazily and returned his gaze to his computer.

“Oh, thank you!” Adrien followed his direction towards a section that seemed to be dedicated to Féline Sombre and Ladybug. Decorated with red and black spots and green cat paw paper crafts. It was small, secluded. Creating a comfortable nook.

"Come on out, Duusu," Adrien whispered. The kwami zipped out and fluffed his feathers, tilting his head. "Any books you recognize?" Duusu hummed and flitted between the shelves of books. Adrien skimmed through the titles. (How did people get the rights to publish fiction works about the heroes? …Do Ladybug and Féline Sombre get royalties?) He tilted his head at a title "A History of Heroics: the Lesser Known Origins of Paris’s Superheroes"

Duusu came back and hovered in front of him, "Nope, nothing.”

Adrien huffed a sigh, "Well this is the last library nearby I can think of. It's got to be in somebody's private collection then, Duusu."

Duusu's head drooped, overcome with a quiet sadness. He glanced up, seeing something behind Adrien. He gasped and hid. Adrien spun on his heel. Natalie stood there, hands behind her back.

"You abandoned your piano practice and missed a photoshoot," she said, "I'm glad you're…" she looked around at the shelves, raising a brow, "taking initiative... in your learning, but you can't just abandon your responsibilities."

He nodded, hanging his head. "I- you're right, sorry..."

She glanced down at him and sighed. Her tone softened, "Go finish up and check out your books, we will wait for you outside in the car."

He looked back up with a smile, "Oh, thanks, I'll uh-" He glanced down at the book he was caught holding. Apparently he was into history today... "I'll go check this out…"

Lila waited at the doorway, much to the annoyance of the terse librarian. She ignored him.

Marinette stumbled through the doors, carrying a box of pastries. Clearly buttering up Alya to make her believe whatever lie she came up with. Lila rolled her eyes at such amateur tactics.

She sashayed towards Marinette, "Hi Marinette, how are you today?"

"Lila! Good, good, how are you?" She smiled brightly and opened the box of macaroons, "Want some? I mentioned I was visiting a friend and we had some leftovers, so my dad kinda pushed them on me."

"No, thank you. I'm just fine. But Alya was asking about that book you borrowed from Chloé. ...I'd be careful if I were you, I wouldn't want it all pinned on you. Who knows what Chloé's reaction would be."

Marinette tilted her head “She was? Why should I-”

”Well you had it last... But I know, you're so sweet, you could never steal, could you?" she smiled, grin sharp and fox-like. "Although… you’ve had ample time to return it... actually, I just remembered something... I should go tell Alya-"

"Wha- no no, I didn't steal it! It's fine, I can explain everything to Alya!" Marinette waved her hands frantically.

"Hm. You still have it right?"

"Er… No...I uh, returned it.... To the… library."

"Well should be easy to find again then," She waved a hand to the library's bookshelves, "I'd love to see it again. I'll make sure Chloé never hears who had it, if you give it to me."

"What? Why do you want it?"

"I want to return it to its original owner, that's all," she said, pressing a hand gingerly against her chest, "and do you really trust Alya to be quiet about it? She's all about truth and justice..."

Marinette frowned, folding her arms, "Alya’s more trustworthy than you, that's for sure… Whatever plan you have, I'm not going to be part of it."

The librarian abandoned his post, frowning, "Excuse me, what's going on here?"

Lila gave a pitifully sad look to the librarian, "She stole a book from one of my friends and won't return it! She loved that book and-"

Marinette sputtered. "What, I didn't steal-" The librarian raised a hand to stop them both.

"You'd make a very good actor. But, you're a tad over dramatic, young lady. I overheard your conversation. Your earlier tone clearly indicated elements of blackmail."

"Wh- well...well," Lila looked around, at a loss for how to lie her way out of this. Her hands balled into fists, "Well, you're just a dumb book scanner. You don't know what you're talking about," she said, "Stay out of it!"

He balked and his expression hardened, "Out."

She gasped, "What? This is a public library-"

"Yet, this dumb book scanner is telling you to get. Out. You blackmailed another patron and then tried to lie to me," he pointed to the doors, pen in hand. "So, I'd rather not repeat myself a third time."

Lila stomped out. Adrien tilted his head as he walked towards the counter, seeing Marinette watching the sceene. “Marinette?” She turned to look at him, raising a brow.

“Wha- Adrien? What are you doing here?”

A purple butterfly landed on the librarian's pen.

"Bibliotech, I am Hawkmoth. One too many people have dismissed and belittled you. I can give you the power to make sure everyone listens to you. You'll be the smartest person in the room at all times. In return, all I ask is for Ladybug, Féline Sombre, and Paon Lilas' Miraculous."

The librarian narrowed his eyes, adjusted his glasses, and grinned, "They'll all regret underestimating me." His glasses were now a glowing visor, his pen had seemed to have morphed into a staff. He twirled the staff in a motion that made a red “P” in the air.

“Marinette!” Adrien pointed, and ran towards her. Marinette turned and gasped as the window crashed as the pen-staff was thrown towards Lila’s receding figure. Lila disappeared as the pen touched her. Bibliotech summoned the staff back to himself, a meter on the pen filling slightly. He turned towards Marinette and Adrien.

"You seem like smart kids," he said, which didn't sound especially good to be in this context, "I hope you're ready for the test. Unfortunately, I don't have a number 2 pencil for you to borrow!"

He twirled his staff-pen and was about to hit Marinette with it, but Adrien shoved her to the floor. He stared at her for a moment. “You okay?”

She nodded and scrambled up. “Run!” She directed, pointing somewhere for Adrien to go while she ran into another opposite direction.

Adrien took the opportunity to dive behind the library counter. “Duusu, spread my feathers!”

"Akuma! Evacuate the Library!" Marinette yelled. She glanced down each row of books for a hiding spot to transform.... Come on, why does every row of books have at least one person in it?!

Alya stood up as Marinette ran toward her, "Marinette?! Akuma? Where!?" She started getting out her phone.

"Do not go toward the angry supervillain, please!" Marinette exclaimed, pushing Alya in the opposite direction.

Paon Lilas crashed into a bookshelf nearby, chuckling awkwardly. “Hi girls. Don’t mind me.” He stood back up, wobbily, as Bibliotech and a pair of people with a red “F” on their chests walked forward, expressions frighteningly vacant.

“You deserve a bad grade for your attitude!” Bibliotech called.

“My attitude? Who are you, my father?” Paon Lilas snarked back, running back towards him.

“No, I’m Bibliotech,” he said, matter of factually. He side stepped Paon Lilas’s attack and the minions grabbed the superhero.

He hummed, "I don't want to make it easy for you," Bibliotech drew the shorthand for “revise” and tapped a book shelf. The shelves bended and twisted into a maze-like structure. Blocking off Marinette and Alya together, and Paon Lilas with the villains.

"Nonono nooo," Marinette cried.

"If you can escape this I'll let you pass automatically!" Bibliotech's voice echoed. "Trust me, you'll need to pass this test."

"Ugh, we're not gonna be able to see the fight from here…" Alya turned towards Marinette, "Come on, we gotta stick together if we wanna get out of here. Two minds are better than one, girl. I'm sure the superheroes will have it handled in no time!"

Marinette sighed. "Let's just hope they can find their way through this…"

Féline Sombre called Ladybug again, and huffed as it continued to not go through. She really hoped she hadn't been caught by Bibliotech. They landed outside the library and looked around. It was eerily quiet. She cautiously walked in.

"Hello Féline Sombre. I'll give you one chance to do this easily." Bibliotech sat on the top of one of the book shelves, legs crossed, "Hand me that ring, please."

"I appreciate the please, not so much the everything else," Féline Sombre said, and extended her staff to knock him down towards her.

He blocked it with his own staff, and dropped to the ground, twirling it. "I hope you're ready to pay your late fees then."

Féline Sombre narrowly avoided being tapped with his staff and giggled nervously. "Do cats get late fee exemptions?"

"No," he said bluntly, twirling his staff and using the back half of it to throw her off balance. They grabbed onto their staff and extended it, twirling on the bar and leaping down to kick him back.

She tumbled and turned around, only for the man to have disappeared. They sighed, “Ladybug better get here fast.”

Paon Lilas threw off the other mindless drone and kicked the bookshelf. He stumbled backwards, barely avoiding the avalanche of books, vision blooming with spots. The akuma’s minions didn’t move after he was out of their grip. “Wow, is that what a failing grade does to you? He made them real dunces.... Oo, Dunce caps. That’s what I’m calling them now.”

He frowned at the rows of books and braced a hand against the wall to keep his balance. Someone nearby was very frustrated. He turned to follow it. It was probably Bibliotech.

Marinette anxiously tried to find somewhere to lose Alya. She took unexpected turns and ran ahead, but no. Alya just turned right with her, despite the fact that she was also recording everything.

"It seems Bibliotech basically gave the building a revision, like a teacher might to a student's essay." Alya narrated, "He's also making this maze really hard… Marinette no, we went that way before!"

Marinette groaned in exasperation, "Shouldn't we… split up to cover more ground?"

"I'd suggest against it," A calm, overly gentle, masculine voice said, "Besides, I’m here to help now."

Marinette froze. Please no, please no not him. Couldn’t Féline Sombre have come to save them before him? She turned around and frowned at Paon Lilas. He smiled (annoyingly) at her.

"How did you find us?" Marinette cried, throwing up her hands.

"I followed the feelings of frustration,” he said with an awkward laugh. “Anyway, we should get you out of here-”

“You’re not going to help Ladybug and Féline Sombre with Bibliotech?” Marinette said, folding her arms.

He shrugged, “Can’t be much help if I can’t find any of them, can I?” he offered a hand, "Paon Lilas, if you haven't heard of me yet."

"Alya, creator of the Ladyblog. I’ve definitely heard of you," Alya accepted the hand and instead of shaking it, he leaned down to kiss her hand. Marinette pointedly did not give him her hand or a name.

"So, you mentioned you followed our feelings- Can you tell who the emotions are connected to?" Alya aimed her phone camera at Paon Lilas, obviously preparing to interview him. Paon Lilas waved for them to follow him and started walking. Alya followed.

"Er, stronger emotions are easier to find, and akuma victims are usually really really strong… So, I can make a good guess? Uh... a few people are… loud? Emotionally. Right now, though." He seemed to wince, minutely. It was covered with a smile. He shrugged, "It's making it a little hard to isolate Bibliotech."

Marinette frowned and turned down a random turn the rest of the group had walked past. Paon Lilas turned around, "Mar- er, Miss, where are you going?"

Marinette groaned in frustration and smiled sharply at him, "Sorry, got excited."

He giggled, a strange (condescending?? No… fond?!?) smile on his lips. "I noticed. Do you need me to hold your hand? ...To keep you from running down every turn out of excitement?"

"Nope! Nope. I'm good." She stuffed her hands in her pockets and glared forward. Alya mercifully was too distracted by Paon Lilas to comment.

Féline Sombre ran past, then skidded to a halt and returned to the group. “Birdy! Seen Ladybug?”

“Nope, no Buggaboo yet. Nice of you to join us though, Kitten.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose at the nickname. Buggaboo? Really?

Féline Sombre frowned, “Okay.... We need a way to work through this maze to get to the Akuma and make sure Ladybug can find us...”

"We could help!” Alya said, “Marinette and I could make a book trail.”

“If you do that, I could probably more easily use my powers to track down Bibliotech’s emotions.”

"What?" Marinette squeaked, "Surely they can do that themselves. How about we… find a good place to hide while they do that!?"

Paon Lilas frowned and glanced at the group. He gently pulled Marinette off to the side.

"You're nervous and frustrated... Do you really want to stay here? Wait until Ladybug captures the akuma?"

Marinette glanced around. Easy out. She nodded. "Sure, you go ahead and I'll stay right here!"

"I could give you a sentimonster to protect you, and your friend Alya, if she wants to stay too. Then Féline and I can just go find Bibliotech."

"Oh you uh, you don't need to do that. I'm fine staying here alone!"

"I want to," he smiled, "I want to help. Trust me."

Marinette frowned and nodded, "Fine…"

He fumbled forward without warning, eyes widening. He quickly straightened himself out and took a deep breath. He smiled again, like the moment never happened. He plucked a feather from his fan and imbued it with power, blowing it towards Marinette in away absurdly close to blowing a kiss. The feather fluttered into Marinette's purse and the twin masks of light appeared on their faces.

"If you need anything just tell me," he said, "I can hear it, no matter how far." He winked and the light faded.

A fluffy, black and white dog with a pink floral pattern on its forehead and paws, sat next to Marinette.

Paon Lilas turned towards Alya and Féline Sombre. "Marinette's staying here with senti-pup. Alya, what do you want to do?"

"I'm going with you, I wanna record this!"

Féline humed, "Okay but you need to keep out of the way… I still have no idea what the Akuma is in so-"

"The pen" Paon Lilas said, “The akuma’s in the pen.”

Marinette blinked, “How did you know that?”

He chuckled awkwardly, “I- er, call it intuition.”

“Huh. Great. Cool, go save the day!” Marinette pushed Paon Lilas away, as senti dog barked at the rest of them, herding them like a sheepdog.

With the group finally gone, she ran down the corner a little farther and sighed as Tiki zipped out.

"I love Alya but seriously, I could've been helping Féline Sombre already."

Tiki giggled, "What are we doing with your new buddy?"

"Oh. Right. Uh…" She took off her purse so it wouldn't disappear in her transformation. "There, let's go. Tiki! Spots on!"

She picked up her purse and made a hush motion to the dog, who wagged its tail.

They followed Paon Lilas's lead Alya trailing behind putting down books to keep them on track. The strongest emotions led them into what must be the center of the library maze. Surrounded by Dunce Caps.

Ladybug ran in behind them, Marinette's Sentidog at her heels.

"Ladybug?" Paon Lilas frowned at her, "Why do you have Marinette's purse?"

"She, uh, gave it to me, I led her out of the building and she didn't want your amok to go to waste."

He sighed, "So brave," under his breath. He shook his head. “Let's get this over with...”

Ladybug caught his arm before he could jump into fray. "We've gotta be smart about this, this whole thing is a test, right?"

He glared at her hand on his arm and pulled away. "Fine, what is your plan, M’lady?"

She huffed and then glanced at Sentidog and Alya’s phone. "Okay, Alya, I need your phone for a second. Mind pulling up a recording?"

Alya nodded and handed her the phone. Ladybug handed it to Sentidog who bounded off, as the audio began playing. The Dunce Caps turned and followed the noise, leaving the entry unprotected.

The group walked up to it. Paon Lilas tried the door and frowned. "Locked."

"It's a puzzle," Féline Sombre said, pointing to the books above the doorway. She extended her staff to allow her to reach, and began rearranging the books.

"They're all classics, but," they clicked them into place, "They were out of order.”

The door opened. Paon Lilas raised a brow, "How… do you know the library’s organization system?"

Féline Sombre looked confused, "You don't?"

The group walked in, and Sentidog returned, no longer holding the phone, clearly having dropped it somewhere. (Alya meanwhile got out her tablet to record instead.)

Bibliotech sat on a floating platform of books. “Took you less time than I thought it would... Are you cheating?” He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, once I deal with you, I won’t have anything else in my way.”

Bibliotech flourished his pen in an P motion and moved to tap Ladybug with it. Paon Lilas jumped in front of her, taking the hit. He disappeared. The staff returned to Bibliotech’s hands.

Ladybug gasped. "Why did he do that? Ugh! Stupid bird- Lucky Charm!" A box fell into her hands.

Bibliotech focused on Ladybug. She used her yoyo as a shield on each hit, searching for how to use the cardboard box.

Féline Sombre extended her staff to meet Bibliotech, landing a solid kick. Bibliotech wrote another Revise note and created another platform for him to jump onto, away from Féline. The red meter went down.

"It's an ink pen." Ladybug whispered, "Féline, destroy the platform!"

"No problem, Bug! Cataclysm!" Féline Sombre touched Bibliotech’s platform, and he grabbed their hand. They yelped and stumbled to remain precariously on the platform. Ladybug whistled and Sentidog ran up and grabbed Féline Sombre’s leg. She shifted to a less unsteady part of the platform, trying to shake off Bibliotech’s grasp on her arm. He readied his pen.

"You forgot the lid!" Ladybug said, and threw the cardboard box up. Féline Sombre grabbed it with their free hand, and caught the tip of the pen from Bibliotech’s attack.

Bibliotech tried to pull back, but the Sentidog grabbed Bibliotech's staff, growling. Ladybug tied Bibliotech's arms in her yoyo and sentidog pulled the staff away and raced down the platforms. Féline shifted to keep a hold of Bibliotech.

Ladybug caught the dog as it jumped into her arms, giggling, "Good puppy."

It dropped the pen and she snapped it in half.

The butterfly fluttered out and the book platforms began to crumble. Féline grabbed Bibliotech and extended their staff to catch their fall, sliding down.

Ladybug caught the Akuma and threw the cardboard box in the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!"

Paon Lilas and the rest of the people reappeared. Paon instantly doubled over and coughed. His miraculous beeping.

Féline Sombre ran over to him, "Are you okay?"

He groaned, but nodded anyway. "Fine…Ya know, I was going for knocking the pen off-course but, taking the hit works too, I guess." He stumbled to a wobbling stand. Ladybug walked up to him, the sentidog on her heels. He ran.

"Wait!" Ladybug called. He turned a corner. She tried to follow him, but the aisle of books was empty. He was gone.

A mask of light appeared on her face. “Hey, Marinette. Hope you’re okay. They purified the akuma. I’m uh, pulling the amok, make sure to get your purse back from Ladybug. Sorry-” The mask disappeared, presumably because he had detransformed.

Sentidog was gone when Ladybug returned. She sighed. She was kinda going to miss that dog. Ladybug went to go help the librarian before her transformation dropped.

Adrien barely caught Duusu as the kwami tumbled out of the brooch, exhausted. He pressed himself flat against the bookshelf, taking deep breaths between bouts of coughing. Pulling out the mango chips for the kwami, he groaned and slid to the floor.

He didn't know how long he sat there. Next thing he knew, Marinette was crouched next to him. Her hand on his shoulder, gentle. "Hey, hey, are you okay?"

He looked up, "Uh… No." He glanced back at the ground, his mind going back to his mother. Her illness. Her unsteadiness and coughs. He felt tears well up in his eyes. "I don't think so."

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml ladybug #adrien agreste #peacock!adrien #black cat!sabrina #sabrina raincomprix #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #Peon Lilas AU #lila rossi #fly away fic #fanart's fanfic #fanfic #miraculous swap #the reason I'm writing this so fast is 100% Broadway's fault #sickness tw

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misscorn · 3 years

Text

Day 5

Favorite Couple

Surprise, surprise my favorite couple is Ritsu and Masamune LMAO so let's keep the nostalgia going @sihjrweek (again if you haven't then read my previous entries for context ❤)

***

"I won't be able to hang out after school tomorrow." Ritsu said, currently dressing and desperately wishing that his Senpai would STOP staring at him. However, Saga was perfectly content to stay naked under his covers and watch Ritsu put on his clothes. Of course, the older teen would've preferred that Ritsu keep them off and spend the night, but it was a school night and Ritsu's mother wouldn't allow it.

"Why not?" Saga asked, sitting up. It had been almost two weeks since White Day, the jar of stars on Saga's nightstand, some of them obviously unfolded and refolded. Although Saga was still understandably irked about his boyfriend having a literal fiancée (even if Ritsu insisted she wasn't one) he spent as much time with Ritsu as he possibly could. That included hanging out in the library after class every day. Maybe Saga was becoming a little clingy or needy, but he didn't care.

"My parents want to spend the day with me tomorrow since it's my birthday." Ritsu shrugged. He had finished dressing and now he had moved on to trying to fix his hair.

"Tomorrow's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me it was coming up?!" Saga asked. He had no time to plan anything! He had no present, no cake, no way to celebrate!

"Honestly, I sort of forgot my birthday was coming up until my mom said something yesterday. It's not really something I ever think about." Ritsu said, not seeing what the big deal was.

Saga huffed. "Well, start thinking about it, moron. I want to do something with you for your birthday." He said. "Let's celebrate over the weekend."

Ritsu blushed, flattered by the unexpected offer. "W-We don't have to do something, Senpai. I'm happy just seeing you." He said.

Crap, why did he have to say such cute shit like that? It made Saga want to yank him right back into bed and kiss him breathless.

"You see me almost everyday. I wanna do something more special than that." Saga said. He didn't like that it wouldn't be on Ritsu's actual birthday, but at least it gave him a little more time to prepare. He watched as Ritsu opened his mouth to protest. "Please?" Saga spoke softly before the brunette even got the chance.

"O-O-Okay." Ritsu agreed, a little caught off guard by the gentle 'please'.

"Come over on Saturday. You can spend the night."

Ritsu nodded. "I'll see you Saturday then." He said, trying not to think too deeply about what 'spending the night' would hold, otherwise he'd become a flustered mess.

"Wait, c'mere." Saga said after Ritsu grabbed his bag, clearly ready to leave.

Ritsu shuffled closer to the bed and Saga grabbed his hand before pulling him down to give him one last kiss. "Love you."

Ritsu predictably turned cherry red. "Y-you can't just sneak attack me like that!"

"What about that was sneaky?"

"Y-You know what I mean!" Ritsu quickly tried to put distance between them, but Saga held his hand tightly.

"Say it back."

"S-S-Stop teasing me!" Ritsu was not at all used to hearing Saga say the L word yet. It also seemed like every day Saga was becoming more affectionate. Not that Ritsu disliked it! Quite the opposite in fact! His poor heart just couldn't take it.

"Not letting you go till you say it." Saga said, leaving a few kisses on Ritsu's hand. Maybe if he embarrassed Ritsu enough he'd get the response he was looking for.

Ritsu's knees almost gave out from such a simple, but intimate action. "I-I can b-barely talk at all when y-you do things like that!"

'Damn it. I really don't want him to leave.' Saga thought. "You're sure you can't spend the night tonight?" He asked.

"My mother would kill me for even thinking about it." Ritsu said.

Saga sighed and flopped on to his back, still holding Ritsu's hand. "Fiiiiine."

"So...you have to let me go..." Ritsu reminded him, half-trying to wiggle his way out of his grip.

"You have to say it back first." Saga said.

"I-I love you too."

Saga, although he didn't want to, released Ritsu's hand. "See you Saturday. Around 12 sound good? We can have lunch together."

Ritsu nodded in confirmation, deciding to be just a little bold and kiss Saga's cheek before running off quickly.

Shit, that brat! Doing something cute like that and running away before Saga could grab him.

'Saturday.' Saga reminded himself before groaning. 'Fuck, what am I even gonna do for Saturday?'

The next day Saga decided to skip the library at the end of classes since Ritsu wouldn't even be there. Plus, he needed to use his free time to try to find a present for him. He felt like a book was a safe bet, but that was also just way too obvious. Still, the bookstore wasn't a bad place to start.

Saga took his time looking through titles, eventually reaching for a book. His hand ended up meeting another and he pulled away, looking over to see who was trying to get the same novel.

Kohinata An.

Saga couldn't help but to frown. Why, why of all people did it have to be her? Ritsu had told Saga that An knew about them, which didn't bother the upperclassman, but he still didn't want to see her.

"Oh, hello, Saga Senpai." An said before giving a knowing smile. "You're here to shop for Richan too, aren't you?" She had been invited to by Youko Onodera to spend the day with them and Ritsu for his birthday, but she had politely declined. She knew it was just a way for Youko to try to set them up.

Saga tried not to look too terribly annoyed at the question. She was Ritsu's friend, of course she knew when his birthday was and of course she'd be getting him a present, but something about it still bothered him.

"Yeah." He answered.

"Richan's sooooo hard to shop for. Every year I try to keep an eye out for something he might like, but I always end up resorting to books." She laughed, but slowly lost her smile when Saga did not react. "Um, Saga Senpai, I..." She trailed off.

"What?" He asked, hoping she'd leave him alone soon.

An hesitated, wanting apologize for what happened on White Day, but instead she smiled and grabbed the book off the shelf. She held it out to him. "You should get Richan this book. He's been reading a lot more fantasy novels lately and I've heard a lot of good things about this one. He'll love it."

Saga slowly took the book out of her hands. "...thanks."

An nodded. "Oh and, one more thing." She said before making herself look as stern as she possibly could. "If you ever hurt Richan, you'll be sorry. So you better treat him right!"

Saga was a little dumbstruck by that, having expected some declaration of rivalry instead, so he only nodded.

Still, that was enough to satisfy An. "Good. Have a nice day, Senpai." She said before taking her leave.

Maybe this An girl wasn't too terrible...

Saga would still keep an eye on her, but he supposed she wasn't the conniving boyfriend stealing witch he suspected her of being.

He looked down at the book he was holding, deciding to get it along with a new horror novel release. Ritsu didn't seem like the type to like that kind of thing, but Saga had been proven wrong by Ritsu's extensive collection of horror books.

'He reads horror but not shoujo...make it make sense.' Saga shook his head at the thought, leaving the store after making his purchases. He stopped in a bakery, getting a small strawberry cake for the two of them to share before heading home to work on his last gift. He needed as much time as he could possibly get for that one.

Once Saturday came, Saga tried to hide how excited he was to celebrate with Ritsu. He felt like such an idiot being so happy over something like this. He hoped Ritsu was just as happy.

"You're sure this is where you wanna go for lunch? We can go anywhere you want, it'll be my treat." Saga said, the two of them entering Pandaway together.

"Y-You don't have to-"

"I want to." Saga interuppted, not letting Ritsu try to talk him out of here.

"I want to eat here." Ritsu assured him. "I like this place, it reminds me of our first d-date." He admitted before he looked at Saga nervously. "That...was a date, right?"

"What else would you call it?" Saga asked as the two of them got in line.

"I just wanted to make sure." Ritsu said, now embarrassed for asking.

Saga just hummed in response. Ritsu was always asking things like that, but Saga hoped he'd be able to quell these insecurities of his.

"Want me to order for you?" Saga asked.

"That's even more embarrassing than stumbling and stuttering over my order." Ritsu said. "Besides, I'm a little more prepared than I was the first time." He added, determined to redeem himself.

Saga held back a laugh and shrugged. "Alright, if you say so."

The two soon got to the front, Saga ordering first. Ritsu ordered afterward, only panicking one or two times when he hadn't heard the employee correctly, but he actually managed to get through the process without wanting to die. Saga paid for them both before Ritsu could even attempt to pay for himself.

The teens sat across from one another with their food, eating and talking casually.

"What did you end up doing with your parents for your birthday?" Saga asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Oh, it was actually really cool! My dad set up for me to meet the author Sumi Ryouichi. When I stopped completely panicking I got to talk to him about his books, including one that's in the works right now." Ritsu said with a bright smile. "After that we went to some fancy dinner, which was nice, but not really my thing." He added with a laugh.

"How the hell did your dad set that up?" Saga asked. He knew Ritsu's parents were wealthy, but what sort of connections did they have?

"My dad's company publishes Sumi Sensei's novels."

"Your dad's what?"

Ritsu frowned and furrowed his eyebrows a little bit. Had they not talked about this before? "My dad's company, Onodera Publishing."

"Onodera?"

"Yeah...like...my name?" Ritsu didn't understand what was confusing about this.

"Onodera...not Oda?"

Ritsu paled. No. Nonononono, this wasn't really happening! "Did I not ever properly introduce myself to you?" Ritsu squeaked out.

"No. I knew your name from the library cards. Are you telling me your name isn't Oda Ritsu?" Saga asked. Well, this was probably the most random and creative way to make Saga feel like the worst boyfriend ever. He hadn't even known Ritsu's actual name!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Ritsu apologized quickly. "I-I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote down that name, I didn't want to seem like a stalker and write my real name, b-but now I realize that doesn't really make any sense." Ritsu put his face in his hands, wanting to hide forever.

"First a fiancée, now a fake name and you're suddenly an heir to a publishing company. You're not gonna tell me you're on the run from the cops next or anything like that, are you?"

"Of course not!" Ritsu hastily denied, not yet realizing that Saga was only teasing him. "I'm sorry, I swear I didn't hide this intentionally, I-"

"I know." Saga assured. He knew his boyfriend flip flopped between laser focused determination and totally scatterbrained, so he wasn't too mad about this. "But it would've been sort of funny if I still didn't know and found out after ten years or something." Saga said. That would've been quite a story.

"That would not be funny, that would be mortifying." Ritsu pouted.

Saga just chuckled and resisted the urge to reach over and ruffle his hair.

Once they finished eating and threw out their trash, Saga spoke up. "I was thinking we could go see the cherry blossom trees. If that's something you'd like."

Ritsu smiled. "I'd love to!" He said. "I love doing anything as long as it's with Senpai."

Saga held back the desire to frown. Why did Ritsu have to say cute things like that when he couldn't kiss him? He settled for reaching out and holding his hand.

"H-Hey!" Ritsu was quick to protest, but Saga held on.

"You can't just say something like that and not expect consequences." Saga said. "Come on, let's go." He walked, still holding Ritsu's hand.

Ritsu attempted to free himself a few more times, but to no avail, especially since him flailing his arm brought more attention than just the two of them holding hands.

Plus, not wanting to lose Ritsu among the other cherry blossom viewers was a good enough excuse to hold on to him. The crowd wasn't incredibly thick, but it was a pretty popular activity and it was a weekend as well, so there was a steady amount of visitors.

The flowers were in full bloom, painting the view a gentle shade of pink.

"I've never been cherry blossom viewing before." Saga admitted.

"Really?" Ritsu looked away from the flora, looking to his Senpai instead in surprise.

"Yeah. I'm glad I'm seeing them for the first time with you."

Ritsu turned as pinker than the petals around them. "W-Why do you always have to tease me?"

"I'm not teasing." Saga frowned a little. "I'm serious."

Ritsu looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes out of embarrassment. "Well...I-I'm glad you're with me too." He said softly, giving Saga's hand a slight squeeze.

Ba dump

Fuck, Saga didn't know if he'd ever be able to admit it out loud, but Ritsu was able to make his heart pound way too easily.

'I want to do this with him every year.' Saga thought. There was so much Saga wanted to do with Ritsu in general. He could only hope that he'd get the opportunity.

"Let's head back." Saga said after the two had been strolling together for a while. "I wanna kiss you and if I try to do that here you'll freak out."

Too late, Ritsu was already freaking out. "Y-Y-You can't just say something like that!"

Saga just shrugged. He was trying to be more open about his feelings, even if those feelings embarrassed the hell out of Ritsu.

"S-Seriously, it's like you're trying to kill me." Ritsu complained with a pout.

"Would love be such a bad way to die?"

Ack! The L word again!

"Yes!" Ritsu huffed.

Saga laughed.

Ritsu felt his entire body heat up. His Senpai...LAUGHED. He couldn't recall a time that he had heard his Senpai laugh before. He wanted to hear it more often, wanted to see him smile like that every day and be the reason for it.

"C-Come on, let's just go." Ritsu said quickly before he became overwhelmed with such thoughts.

Once they arrived back at the older teen's house, Saga took the opportunity to kiss Ritsu, just as he said he would.

"Sit. I'll get the cake and presents." Saga said after he pulled away.

Ritsu went to tell his Senpai that he shouldn't have gone through all that trouble, but he knew Saga would just insist that he had wanted to do this. So, instead Ritsu sat and said hello to Sorata, scratching under his chin. The cat curled up in his lap as Ritsu continued to give him attention.

Saga didn't take long, bringing the cake and presents into the living room. Sorata and Ritsu were definitely a cute sight together, making Saga smile a bit.

"Thank you so much for all this, Senpai." Ritsu said after they had cut the cake and he had opened his gifts. He was admittedly very exciting about his two new reads, even if that made him feel like a nerd. Plus, they were books that Senpai got for him, so that made them even more special.

"There's one more thing." Saga said. "It's in my room." He stood and left, heading up the stairs as Ritsu waited and distracted himself with keeping Sorata from eating the leftover cake.

Saga soon came back down, holding something behind his back. "So, I sort of stole your idea and I didn't have much time to get as good as you with the paper folding, but..." Saga brought a jar full of paper stars forward. They were pink like cherry blossom petals. He sat back down next to Ritsu as he spoke. "I noticed you still look so...shocked whenever I tell you I love you. Even now you're always saying stuff like 'we're dating right?' when I keep telling you how I feel. So, I thought that this might be a nice reminder. If you ever start doubting my feelings for you, you can read as many as it takes for you to stop doubting. This is real, Ritsu. What we have and what I feel for you is real and I don't want you to forget that." Saga said, handing the jar over. "These are only some of the reasons, though." He added, thinking there weren't nearly enough stars.

"Some?" Ritsu stared at the stars. This jar full was only some of the reasons Saga loved him? This couldn't be real.

"Well I couldn't fit all of them. I didn't have enough time." Saga said. "Because someone didn't tell me their birthday was coming up."

Ritsu just smiled. "Thank you." He said, excited to read all the little messages inside the stars, but he'd wait till he was alone so he didn't melt into a puddle right in front of Saga.

"Mm. Happy birthday. I love you."

"I love you too."

#sihjrweek #sekaiichi hatsukoi #onodera ritsu #saga masamune #kohinata an

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male werewolf x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is a patreon tier reward, and I hope you enjoy my take on their big, dad-bodded werewolf OC, Lowe. It's been up on Patreon on early release and is now up on Tumblr for you to enjoy.

Content: playful banter, fluff, the briefest flicker of angst, some dominant tendencies in Lowe (it's not D/s though, for anyone who's not into that), and a reader who gives as good as she gets. Wordcount: 2792

___

As you yanked the door to the campus cafe open with about twice as much force as it needed, you caught a glimpse of Lowe working behind the counter. Of course, there was a massive queue at this time of day; at the midpoint of the afternoon when people were thinking about either finishing up early or knuckling down for a caffeine-fuelled all-nighter.

Engrossed as he’d looked in his work before, he glanced up as if he’d sensed your presence, his warm eyes flicked briefly in your direction as the door opened, and he offered you a quick, fond, twitch of the lips before turning back to the masterpiece of latte art in his hands. Even at that distance, you felt your body relaxing a little more around him. In the time since he’d made some playfully snarky comment about your Pokémon shirt a few months ago - which had, in fact, led to a joint outing on campus playing Pokémon Go together - you and he had fallen into an easy friendship.

You tried not to snarl softly to yourself as the woman at the front of the queue, old enough to be a post-grad perhaps, leaned on the counter and flirted openly with him, but at the end of the day, what claim did you have to him anyway? Lowe was your friend, and as much as you’d like to think you might be the tall, long-haired guy’s type (he was certainly yours, with that ‘powerful-yet-soft-around-the-edges’ dad bod he had going on, and that self-assured confidence that tipped just pleasantly shy of being arrogance), you couldn’t really be sure. After all, you’d seen him getting pretty close with a guy friend of his, so for all you knew, he wasn’t even interested in women, but you’d never really discussed that. The most personal things had got so far was Bloodborne bosses and beloved DnD characters, which was also fine.

The queue slowly dwindled in front of you, and when you stepped up to the counter, Lowe turned from the machine on the far counter and plonked a large cup down before your lips had even opened to begin your order. His grin was positively wolfish, all teeth and glinting eyes.

You pouted and snapped, “And what if I wanted a chai latte with soy milk today?”

He raised one thick eyebrow as he popped the takeaway lid onto the cup with a distractingly big hand, and said flatly, “You hate soy milk. Drink up, grumpy-guts. You’ll feel better…”

You huffed, took the cup off the counter, slapped the cash down just hard enough to make him chuckle and twitch another smile - damn the bastard looked pleased with himself and double-damn, if he didn’t look extra-specially good wearing that expression - and he announced to his colleague that he was going on break.

He joined you outside, tugging out one of the heavy, metal chairs for you without a word before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

Lowe closed his eyes, tipping his head back a little to feel the chilly late-spring breeze on his face. He looked good as he relaxed like that, with his long, thick, nut-brown hair tied back off his face with a few fluffy bits escaping at the front, and his big arms folded across his chest and resting on the slight paunch he had at the waist. Something about the thick, almost russet-brown scruff on his jaw made you want to touch it. Instead, you sipped your drink and sighed.

“Good?” he asked without moving or opening his eyes.

“You know it is, you cocky little shit,” you laughed. Banter with him was always so easy, and you gave as good as you got. “Thanks, by the way. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a complete brat…”

He snorted and cracked an eye to look at you. The sun caught in his golden-brown iris and glinted softly like polished amber, and it honestly stole your breath for a moment. “How’s the course going?” he asked instead of teasing you any more. “You were pretty stressed about that assignment last time we talked.”

You rolled your eyes and puffed the air out of your chest, swiftly following it with some inarticulate grunt of despair. “It would be going a lot better if my roommate wasn’t also being such an inconsiderate asshole,” you snarled. “Seriously, I don’t think I can take the smell of weed or the late nights any more.”

He frowned. “Can’t you talk to someone about it?”

“Have done. Not sure I’ll have a roommate for much longer though… Missing classes and being constantly stoned must equal tanking grades, right?”

Lowe nodded but didn’t say anything for a while, watching as a gnoll and her girlfriend strolled past, hand in hand. The gnoll nuzzled her nose against the human’s ear and elicited a squawk that made her giggle in return. Eventually he said, “You free this weekend?”

Cocking your head to one side, you shrugged. “Hand-in is on Friday afternoon, so… yeah? I mean, I had just planned to sleep all day… why?”

He looked uncharacteristically apprehensive and chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. “I was going to head up into the woods for the weekend. Camping. Wondered if you wanted to come too?”

“Camping?”

“Yeah…” he said, looking like he was regretting mentioning it now. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I mean… you’ve earned your rest, and camping under the stars isn’t for everyone. Don’t feel like you have -”

“Shut up for a second, will you?” you laughed, and he drew up short and blinked, staring at you before laughing fondly. “I’ve actually never been camping. I’d love to go, as long as you don’t make me go for a ten mile hike as well…”

“Would I treat you like that?” he crooned and you rolled your eyes again and muttered something which you didn’t think he’d catch. Somehow, however, he did, and he barked a loud laugh, startling a cervitaur walking past with his grocery shopping in each hand. As Lowe turned to look at the cervitaur he’d surprised, you watched his eyes flare gold, almost unnaturally so. Perhaps it was just a trick of the sunlight at this angle. When he looked back at you, you missed what he said, staring at his eyes, which were now back to their normal, warm brown.

He murmured your name, sounding a little concerned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not a brat… not really…”

“Shut up,” you retorted, your tone carrying no venom. “And you know full well know I can be.”

That Thursday afternoon, your roommate moved out, finally expelled for drug use and selling to other students, and you fumigated the room as best you could, relieved at last. The second after you’d finished deep-cleaning everything, you texted Lowe and said, ‘So… I’m down a roommate now.’

‘You need me to help hide the body?’ he sent back immediately and you burst out laughing.

‘I love you, but no. It was expulsion rather than murder. I was kind of hoping you might want to move in instead?’ you sent, your heart in your mouth. He’d mentioned he was looking for a place closer to campus, and this could be perfect for him. If he was willing to have you as his roommate, of course.

‘Definitely interested. Can I think about it and let you know this weekend?’

That wasn’t a complete rebuttal, you figured. ‘Of course.’

‘Cheers. I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday.’

True to his word, Lowe didn’t take you on a ten mile route march. He drove you up to the start of a wide, easy looking trail that was apparently only three miles up to the campsite, along a winding, inviting, grassy path. Despite looking maybe a little towards the less fit end of the scale, Lowe was four strides ahead of you in a matter of seconds. Realising this, he slowed, and you nudged him with your elbow.

“Thanks,” you said and he gave you one of his soft, secret smiles that you didn’t see very often.

He wasn’t particularly talkative as you made your way up the path, but the silence between you was easy, relaxing even.

“You’re such a cliche, you know that?” you laughed a little while later as you paused on a rock for a drink and to adjust the laces of your shoe.

Lowe scowled. “How?”

You stared pointedly at the penknife in his hand and the stick he’d picked up and had idly begun to whittle into a howling wolf in his big, strong hands, almost as if he’d not even realised he was doing it. Again, he surprised you by just shrugging a shoulder and turning back to it while you enjoyed the scene. He seemed a bit distracted somehow. When you moved on, he stashed it in his pocket.

Lowe carried literally everything, stowing your water bottle for the way up in the side pocket of his backpack, and even a two-person tent, food supplies for that evening and breakfast, and more water than you probably drank over the course of three days, and yet he still managed to arrive at the campsite as if he’d just strolled the length of one city block.

He impressed you again by lighting a fire and cooking a veritable feast for you both on a little makeshift grill, and he looked more than pleased with himself when you complimented him. “Don’t let it go to your big fat head,” you snickered and he growled playfully at you.

Quite literally growled.

The moment he’d done it, he went still, eyes wide, and even looked a little sick. “Shit,” he hissed.

“What?”

“I…” then his huge shoulders slumped despondently and he let out a long breath. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you. I mean, I’ve been meaning to tell you for… well, since we kind of became friends, really. But it never seemed… convenient…”

“Convenient to tell me what?”

He shuffled a bit and poked at the embers of the fire. Your stomach felt uneasy, and it had nothing to do with the inordinate amount of amazing food you’d just finished. “I…” he began, and then whispered, “Fuck it.” He looked you in the eye and said, “I’m not human. I’m a werewolf.”

You blinked. It didn’t totally surprise you, if you were honest. “Well, that… certainly makes one or two things add up…”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

He turned his golden eyes away from you and poked a bit more at the smoldering, grey wood, making it crumble to fragile ashes. He did look a bit easier now though. “I figured… maybe you wouldn’t… that if you knew that I’m not human, you might not want me as your roommate anymore… It was stupid though, I know.”

“Lowe,” you said, more gently this time, reaching for his bare forearm where he’d cuffed his tartan sleeve up to his elbow. His skin was warm and his muscles tensed, hard as the earth beneath you as he waited for whatever you were going to say next. “You’ve become probably my best friend… There’s no one I’d rather be roommates with than you. Besides, who else is going to tolerate your Soulsborne marathons and hipster lumberjack wardrobe?”

A long, low growl emanated from him but it dissolved into laughter when he saw your expression and he shook his head. “I can’t believe I was so chicken about you knowing…”

“I can’t believe you looked like you pissed yourself a minute ago!”

His eyes flashed openly gold now and he huffed, “I did not…”

“You totally did. Anyway, I’m glad you told me. But you know that means I’m going to want to know all the details.”

“I think I’ll save that for another day,” he said as he reached for the s’mores beside him.

‘Another’ day turned out to be a week after you’d helped him move all his boxes into your room. He was lying on his back on his bed, his arms folded up behind his head, one knee bent, the other leg stretched out, foot dangling off the end of the mattress. You glanced across the room at him from where you had your laptop on your knees and your headphones on, working on the last tweaks of the next assignment due. He looked tense, even though he wasn’t really doing anything in particular.

Removing your headphones, you murmured, “Lowe? Everything alright?”

“Mmm,” he half growled. A moment later he heaved out a huge sigh and said, “No. Full moon’s tomorrow night. I always get kind of… cranky around now.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Whatever you’d thought he’d say, you hadn’t expected the long, low moan that escaped him. It was not an innocent noise. Breathing through his mouth in soft, quiet pants, he didn’t look at you, but you sensed that his eyes were glowing.

“Lowe?”

“No,” he said. “Not unless you want to take whatever this is between us somewhere else…”

You bit your lip. “You mean…?”

“It would probably take the edge off if we slept together, yes,” he said bluntly. “But if you don’t want that, then I’m hardly going to push…”

“I like it when you’re pushy,” you countered, setting your laptop aside and staring him in the eye.

His pupils blew wide and he raised his nose. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Oh… fuck, you’re beautiful.”

With a smile, you crossed the room to him as he sat up, watching your every move with unwavering, lupine focus. “Let me help you out, big guy,” you crooned playfully and he twitched his lip in a possessive snarl, eyes golden and locked on the curve of your neck.

“Last chance,” he said. “I don’t want you regretting crossing this line with me.”

“You’ve got super-human senses, Lowe,” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. His gaze darted instantly to the movement, transfixed by the glimpse of skin beneath your top. “You must know how I feel about you by now…”

“Yes, but lusting after someone and doing something about it is different when they’re your friend… I don’t want you to feel like I’m putting pressure on you…”

In answer, you reached out and trailed your fingertips up his neck, scratching him a little bit and making him growl again, and as you finished with a single finger drawing a line up his throat and under his chin, he shivered, as if barely holding himself back. “Why don’t you put just the right amount pressure on me… here?” you said, licking your lips as you climbed into his lap, straddling his thick thighs and running your palms over the softness of his stomach.

His jaw was soft, mouth open as he panted openly, and beneath you as you ground your hips to emphasise your question, you felt his hard cock.

A heartbeat later, he’d clamped his hands under your thighs and stood up. Lowe dropped you onto the bed with the perfect mix of recklessness and carefulness and lunged for you. He peppered and mouthed kisses down your neck, tugging at your skin with his canines, biting at your earlobe, his short beard burning and scratching your skin deliciously, and all the while he ground his cock against your thigh through his jeans.

It clearly wasn’t nearly enough, and it wasn’t long before you were both naked on his bed, and he had his mouth on you, his hands spreading your legs wide as he used the strength in his arms that his softer body belied. “Don’t come yet,” he rasped between strokes of his tongue. “Not til I say…”

“Oh,” you gasped, fighting the rising wave of heat that swept up your body, tingling under your skin, at that command. You tried, you really did, but in a mere few strokes of his tongue, you came with a cry against the heat of his mouth, bucking while he held you down and pulled you against his mouth to press his tongue tight against your throbbing clit.

When he pulled back, looking extremely smug about himself and his talents, you saw that his canines had lengthened and his features had become a little less… human.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said, clearly still enjoying the taste of you on his lips.

“Will you hurry up and fuck me?” you pouted, and he snarled.

“Such a brat,” he laughed, but he didn’t waste any time either.

—

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#werewolf #male werewolf #werewolf x reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #male werewolf x female reader

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bangtanloverboys · 4 years

Text

thought trade (i) // jjk

summary - In a world where soulmate systems exist, you get one of the strangest ones you can think of. You speak your soulmates thoughts without any regard for context and that’s your only hint. At first it’s a bit strange, as you start blurting out random Korean phrases and stuff but one day you get so fed up that you start cursing at the world for giving you the most useless systems there is. It isn’t until you check twitter and see that a certain K-Pop Idol is trending for a random outburst in English that’s your words. . .

pairing - idol!jungkook x gender neutral!reader

genre - fluff; soulmate au

word count - 4.2k

warnings - none

author’s note - the reader in this fic in gender neutral and when there’s italics it means they’re talking in korean. also this is the first story i’ve published publicly in 6 years, if you’ve noticed anything about this fic grammarwise, please tell me and i’ll correct it.

part ii

You honestly don’t know what you expected when you turned 20 as you awaited for your soulmate system to show. Most common it was tattoos that showed up, your soulmates first words or birthdays. The lucky ones got to share thoughts or perhaps even see each other in dreams but none of that happened to you. No, soon as you turned 20 nothing really changed. It wasn’t until 2 weeks later when you were out having dinner with some friends and you just blurted out a random full sentence in full Korean.

You were confused. You didn’t speak Korean at all, you could barely speak Spanish from the 4 years you took it in high school. So how in the world did you say. . .whatever you said without any prior knowledge. The friend you were having dinner with suggested it was your soulmate system. But you’ve never heard of a system that would have you blurt out Korean. Keeping the soulmate system in mind though, you decided to seek out a sort of soulmate doctor.

With soulmate systems becoming more and more common, they were confusing to the people that had the system as well as the people around them, so some people have taken it upon themselves to study and record different types of soulmate systems to help understand. Very next day after your Korean dinner burst, you google the nearest one and book an appointment for the following week.

You still had no idea what you’re saying so you’ve started a habit of keeping a voice memo recorder on you at all times recording every single thing you say or hear throughout the day. You’ve gone through three so far and only caught one outburst. You managed to roughly translate a few words: Army, dance, and concert. You have no idea about any of the context behind those words but you’d have to wait before you’d get any answers.

Finally your appointment with the soulmate doctor rolls around and you explained your situation, how you randomly burst out in Korean and how you have no idea what to do with what’s going on or how to communicate with your soulmate. The doctor frowned upon hearing your description. Turning to her computer, she began to type in your system attributes.

“Well, your system is fairly unique, I’ll say that for sure.” She responded, as she turned back to face you. “What I mean is, there have only been about 3 or 4 other cases with systems similar to yours. It’s called thought trade. You’re speaking your soulmates thoughts or words. As for the Korean bit, your soulmate is Korean and that’s as much as I can tell.”

“Is there any way I can control it? To a point where I don’t randomly blurt out stuff in another language?” You asked, desperate for any sort of solution. The three times you burst out were very embarrassing and the looks you got made you feel weird and shameful.

“Hmm, soulmate systems have only been known to let up until after the fact you’ve met. As for controlling? The only record we have of that is pressing enough thought to a point where you can force them to say it. Other than that, no, I’m sorry.”

You left the soulmate doctor feeling a bit dejected. You honestly didn’t know what to do about this; soulmate systems were supposed to make finding your soulmate easier and this didn’t seem to help you get anywhere. The only logical thing you could think of was to start taking a Korean language class at your college. Before the first class had started, you were sure to explain to your professor your reasoning behind taking the course. Thankfully, he was very understanding and promised he’d help you personally with any translations if needed.

After a few classes you finally had an outburst in class. Everyone in your class turned to stare at you in confusion, clearly whatever you said wasn’t a part of class and you felt your face grow red. The looks of their faces made you want to curl up under your desk and hide until the end of class. Your professor took liberty to explain to the class that it was your soulmate system upon seeing your embarrassment; to which your fellow classmates were understanding.

“Y/N, if it’s alright with you, may I incorporate your outburst into the lesson.” You gave a small nod as he clasped his hands together. “Alright, can anyone guess or translate what Y/N, or moreso, what their soulmate said?” He asked the lecture class, a few people raised their hands. He pointed to one of the guys in the front row. “Yes, Jay?”

“They said ‘I don’t know why I’m speaking like I don’t know my own language, hyung!’” Jay responded, before turning to look at you at your desk. “Perhaps he caught on to you learning the language and you’re mispronouncing some things?”

“He?” You question, you’ve never known the gender of your soulmate, so with Jay using the male pronouns you were rightfully taken back.

“Yeah, he said hyung. That’s the honorific he used.” He responded. Once the professor confirmed that is in fact what your soulmate said, he resumed the class yet you barely paid attention. For as little as it was, you had something. A clue.

As the months passed, the outbursts became more and more common happening at least twice every other week. Fortunately, your Korean had improved enough for you to start translating your bursts on your own. Some of it was a bit difficult to understand as to what he was talking about as it varied from a bunch of things like fire being too hot, and leaves falling down. Other times it was stuff about body aches.

Your classmate Jay had slowly become a blessing in your life when it came to further trying to understand your outbursts and your soulmate system in general. After your first outburst in class, he approached you and asked you a couple more questions about your system. He admittedly was interested in the many vast different types that existed and had never heard of yours before. He had offered his help on translating and thus your friendship began.

The semester was finally drawing to a close and you had Jay over to help study for the Korean final when you had another burst about the army, something about purple, and food. If you were completely honest, you were getting fed up with it. “I’m honestly tired of it! Why the fuck does nothing he say make sense! I’m already learning another fucking language to understand whatever the fuck he’s talking about but what he says doesn’t make sense!” You shouted, completely frustrated with the entire situation. “I’m still completely clueless as to who my soulmate is! And he’s not giving me any hints!”

Jay merely sat in silence as you sat back down, cooling down after your little meltdown. “Feel better after that?”

“Yes, a little bit.” You sighed, “Sorry you had to . . . witness that though.”

“No problem, honestly, I think you are being given hints they’re just too. . .vague to connect them.” He said in an attempt to reassure you.

“You on his side or mine here?” You retorted, eliciting a chuckle from your friend. “I just. . .want to strangle him sometimes.”

“I would too, if I had your system. I got lucky though, I just doodle on my arm and it shows up on her arm.” He smiled proudly as he looked at his forearm. He really was lucky when it came to having a soulmate system. Jay had been able to quickly locate his soulmate within a matter of hours after his system made itself apparent. His soulmate, Jenna, lived in Canada and he had plans on flying over to meet her for Hanukkah.

“Can we put a pin in this study session until tomorrow? After that, I’m exhausted and don’t think I can look at another sentence without getting angry at him.” You huffed as you leaned back on your couch.

“Yeah, final ain’t till next week. Call me if anything happens.” He assured you as he started collecting his things.

Once he was gone, you pulled out your phone and opened twitter. You barely use it unless to check up on some random celebrities tweets or check random news stuff. Upon opening the trending page, the top trend catches your eye:

JUNGKOOK SOULMATE

As someone with a weird soulmate system, you’re intrigued with what’s going on with this ‘Jungkook’. Upon opening the hashtag, you learned he is a sort of K-Pop idol, now you don’t know a lot about the music industry of the language of your soulmate so you decided to leave it, but before you close it you come across a video of said Jungkook from a livestream. He’s this cute guy that can’t be any older than you with brown hair that’s swept over his eyes and staring into the camera lovingly. He’s sitting in a hotel room and he’s just talking in Korean, and you vaguely understand what he’s talking about. He’s talking about his day, the food he’s tried lately, and addresses the viewers as ARMY. Then in the middle of a sentence about an interview he bursts out in full English “I’m still completely clueless as to who my soulmate is! And he’s not giving me any hints!” before he slapped his hands over his mouth and scrambled to the camera to end the livestream.

Those were your words. He said your words.

He’s your soulmate?

You swipe more down the tag and you see a bunch of stuff about theories about what his system might be. You come across a thread of several times his voice was bleeped out in a bunch of videos, while fans assumed it was swearing they began theorizing it was his soulmate system and he didn’t want them to hear him talk about things that probably didn’t make any sense.

That didn’t help you on your part. Now you only have one piece of evidence that proves he’s your soulmate. Exiting the app, you moved to google and see if you could find anything else about this Jungkook and low and behold, more photos of the cute guy from the video clip was there and you frantically called Jay.

“I just left what’s up-”

“I found him.”

“You what? You found him?” Jay was astonished to say the least, especially since less than 10 minutes ago you were cursing him out over not knowing who he was.

“Either I found him or I’m having a nervous breakdown.” You chuckled nervously as you began pacing back and forth in your living room.

“Okay, I’m coming back over.” You heard him turn and make his way back over to your apartment. “Who is he?”

“This sounds. . . completely insane but like. . he’s a K-Pop Idol named Jungkook, whoever the fuck he is, he’s my soulmate and I have no fucking idea how to get to him now.”

“Wait wait wait, slow down. Jeon Jungkook, of BTS, is your soulmate?” Jay inquired, “How did you find that out?”

“Well apparently the universe heard me complaining about not having a clue and went BAM ‘Here’s your clue’.” You still couldn’t believe this was real. Of all people that had to be your soulmate, he was it. You opened your mouth to speak again but instead of English, Korean toppled over your lips. One word that mainly stuck out was ‘I’m sorry’. “I think he’s in trouble. Fuck, I got him in trouble.” You hadn’t even met the guy and you were already causing problems for him. Or maybe this wasn’t new at all, maybe you’d gotten him in trouble before?

“Open the door, I’m outside.” You ran to the door and wrapped your arms around your friend. To say you were overwhelmed and scared, didn’t cover half of it. You knew who he was now, but now had no idea who you were and now you were clueless as to how you can even get to see him!

The next day and a half, instead of studying for your Korean final, you made it your business to find out anytime you could on Jungkook. As you watched some of the music videos, slowly more and more of what you’ve said in the past made sense. The weird sayings that you thought were completely random were song lyrics, the complaints about muscle pains made more sense when you saw how intense and hard they all danced. The “army” you constantly burst about was the fanbase they had, ARMY. You were given clues, you were just too stupid to use google once in a while.

Meanwhile, your outbursts have gotten more and more frequent. Happening almost twice a day. You could almost feel Jungkook’s concern and fear behind his thoughts because apparently BigHit was really good at hiding their idols’ soulmate systems and with your one outburst you ruined it for him.

ARMY slowly became a concern for you on your side because apparently a site of soulmate systems crashed because so many people were frantically searching for what his system might be. Once people found out about the rare thought trade system, almost daily you saw on Twitter of people claiming to be his soulmate. Those were easily debunked as the impostors were either too young to even get their soulmate system or the phrases they said in Korean were badly pronounced. Usually one of those two or they didn’t speak English fluently. That was the only clue ARMY had about their Golden Maknae’s soulmate, you spoke English.

You thought quietly to yourself, trying to push a thought to Jungkook about being sorry about this happening and that you weren’t posting any videos on Twitter, because either way you wanted him to know you were you and not give him the wrong idea. You don’t know if he got the message until several hours later when you were getting out of the shower and in perfect English said, “I understand.” You smiled, happy he got the message and you were able to connect to him at least in some way.

A full month after the “live burst” as ARMY dubbed it, you (and Jungkook) were able to decipher with the fact that you could only get each other's thoughts when you were extremely emotional, which explained the live situation. Sometimes if you thought really long and hard you could push the message across but that was usually hit or miss. It was currently winter break and Jay was currently on his way back from Canada when he called you.

“Pack your bags.”

“Uh, nice to hear from you too, Jay. I’m doing great. Why should I pack my bags?” You rolled your eyes as his demand.

“Because my dear YN, for Christmas I got you tickets to go see BTS on Jimmy Fallon-”

“You fucking what!? First of all that’s all the way in fucking New York City! Second of all, fucking wHAT?!” You screamed into the phone, a bit flinching seeing how you probably just got Jungkook to yell at the top of his lungs.

“Listen to me, YN. This is crazy yeah, but it’s like, the only chance we can get for you two to meet. Hence why I got you a round trip ticket to New York. You’re welcome,” the smugness evident in his voice.

“Jay. . .I can’t believe you’d do this for me? All I got you was socks, you can’t just buy me a plane ticket!”

“Jenna helped pay for it if it makes you feel better, we both want you to get your man. It’s our gift to you. Now go pack, the show is in two days and you leave tomorrow morning. We also got you a hotel ticket. You’re going to be there at least 5 days at least. Have fun!”

Soon as the call ended, you felt like you were going to cry. Was this going to work? You had no idea. “New York City? You go?” You heard your voice speak.You quickly thought back a yes for him and scrambled to your room to pack. You threw together your best and nice clothes to wear at the show and as you were getting ready for bed you heard yourself say “See you maybe.” You smiled as you tucked yourself in, wanting to be asleep as soon as possible in order to leave.

You barely slept that night, to a degree was somewhat okay because you could always sleep on the plane. You left two hours before your flight with the information that Jay had forwarded to you, and soon enough you were seated outside your gate waiting for your flight to be called. Seconds seemed like hours as you waited, you just wanted to get to New York as soon as possible and see Jungkook. Live and in person, right in front of you. But then it came to you, Jungkook had no idea what you looked like. So you came up with a little plan for the opportunity to arise.

After you came up with a plan, you saw on your VLIVE app, after the live burst last time you decided to download the app to be sure you didn’t have another repeat, you would simply sit in silence as you watched your soulmate talk but after the outburst, it seems he was limited from going live. But he was allowed to go live with other members because there he was with Jimin, sitting and talking to ARMY. After a sudden lack of Jungkook, the chat was spammed with questions about his soulmate and his system but he avoided that entirely. You watched them as you waited for your flight to be called, they playfully bickered about some dumb little game they were playing.

After nearly an hour, your flight was called and you decided to leave one message in the chat. ‘See you maybe.’ You watched for a few seconds as Jungkook scanned the chat. He saw his eyes light up a bit and open his mouth but before he said anything you had already closed the app. You couldn’t reopen it now as you were steps away from boarding your plane. You made your way to your seat and put your phone on airplane mode. The flight attendants went over the safety precautions but you didn’t hear a word they said for you were so close to Jungkook now.

Soon enough the plane took off and you put in your earbuds and played some of your already downloaded music, including some of BTS and more specifically Jungkook’s solo songs and covers. While you did love and appreciate the other members and their talent, you obviously had to be biased to your literal soulmate. His soothing voice lulled you to sleep and sure enough you slept the entire flight to New York City.

Soon as you landed you made your way over to baggage claim and called an uber to your hotel. You were getting more and more antsy to the point you were giggling like a maniac. “You okay?” Your voice spoke up. Okay, maybe you were getting too excited by this. You laughed a bit and thought back that you were just excited. You unpacked your things and then decided to check through twitter, and of course, Jungkook was trending again. Clicking on it you see a clip of the live stream after you commented and left. Jungkook’s eyes lit up and he said “You too”, you chuckled and scrolled through and saw a bunch of people’s theories as to who his soulmate is and as his response to your comment was vague, no one pointed to you.

After a few hours of mindlessly scrolling and watching videos, getting to know what these people thought of Jungkook. He was very important to these people and you couldn’t help but be a little scared because they automatically assumed a lot about idols’ personal lives and you were possibly going to be added to that equation. You felt your stomach grumble and you decided to make a quick stop at a McDonald’s as it was cheap and easy food. Belly full, you fell asleep and happy to possibly see your soulmate within 24 hours.

You woke up a bit early to get ready, the dress code was smart casual so you dressed as such, only messing with your physical appearance very little as you didn’t bring much with you in your rush to pack. Once you noticed the time, you were on your way to the studio and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. After waiting for a few hours, you all filed into the audience and watched as the crew set up for filming. You couldn’t breathe as Jimmy stood in front and announced that BTS was here and you felt your heart stop when they came out.

They all came out looking very cute in their current concepts style, and they all look ethereal. Then your eyes landed on Jungkook and all of time seemed to stop. He looked so cute and you couldn’t believe it. There he was. So close yet so far. Every fiber of your being, every atom yelled at you to get up from your seat and run to him but you couldn’t, that was the stupidest thing you could ever do. No, you had to stick to your plan. Hopefully it will work. They danced their way to their seats as the band played, then they all sat down around and on the couch. You couldn’t register anything that was going on, all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. You watched them introduce themselves and you had to bite your tongue, because all you wanted to do was scream out to Jungkook that you were here. Just wait, you reminded yourself. Wait.

As they talked about their new music, you heard Jimmy ask about soulmates, more specifically Jungkook, with his system being exposed recently and if he found them.

He shook his head no. “Still looking.” he shyly admitted as the nearest member, Jimin, patted his thigh.

This was it. You shut your eyes and thought hard as possible trying to get him to hear you. Please please please.

“It’s been difficult to find them as-” Namjoon started to explain when suddenly

“I’M HERE!” Jungkook blurted out, cutting him off. It worked! His eyes frantically searched the audience and suddenly a bunch of screaming people were claiming it was them, even people with the most obvious soulmate marks exposed on their bodies, desperate for the love of their bias.

“Wait, they’re here?!” Jimmy shouted over the growing screams of the crowd, Jungkook stood up and watched the crowd intently, unable to pin point you.

Namjoon said something in Korean to Jungkook, encouraging the younger member to do something. Listening to him, Jungkook closed his eyes and the entire audience went quiet. Waiting for his soulmate to show themselves.

You felt the similar pull, the need to speak. Opening your mouth and standing as you let the words tumble out of your mouth in a shout, shrieking something about raw eggs and Jimin. As random as the saying was, Jungkook’s eyes locked with you and suddenly you felt your legs move without your permission. You frantically pushed past all the people sitting around you and you ran down the stairs to your soulmate. Your Jungkook. As he saw you run down the stairs, he ran to meet you halfway across the stage. You leapt into his open arms and you felt him spin you around as you held on for dear life.

Soon as everything stopped spinning you could feel him cry into your shoulder. You pulled away to see his eyes starting to grow red from the amount of tears he let go. From that sight alone, you as well burst into tears. He pulled you back into the hug by your neck and you both openly wept into each other's arms. You felt the other members (and you think Jimmy as well), join in the hug as you all stood there. You heard Jimmy say they’re gonna have a quick break and you all were gestured to go backstage. You almost didn’t follow but Jungkook pulled you along, not letting go of you.

Once in a back room, you were surrounded by the 7 members of the biggest boyband in the world, one of which was your soulmate and you honestly? You were a bit starstruck because while you had hoped that the plan would work, you didn’t think this far ahead.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Namjoon broke you out of your trance and you felt your face flush, looking to the ground a bit.

“Uh, YN LN.” You said, continuing to stare at your toes.

“It’s perfect.” You heard Jungkook mutter as he pulled you into another hug from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Jimin lightly scolded the maknae in Korean, saying something along the lines of something about the conversation, the interrupted interview, and 'schedule mess up'.

“Sorry about that, didn't really. . .think of that. . .” You lightly chuckled as you dragged your fingertips up and down Jungkook’s arms that were still wrapped around you.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t care. I have my soulmate now. I have you.” Jungkook whispered into your ear.

“We have to go back to the interview. JK, they’ll be here when you get back, right?” Namjoon’s turned to you, putting you on the spot.

“Y-yes, of course.” You sputtered out, nodding your head.

You could feel Jungkook pouting as he looked up to face his members. Talking really fast, you managed to understand a bit of what he was saying to them. Asking them about missing the rest of the interview and something about Jin and his soulmate. A few of them went back and forth about whether or not it would be good with Jimmy or the staff. But it was when Hoseok spoke out that the other members agreed, Namjoon only sighed in response. Telling Jungkook he’d be excused from the rest of the schedule today. He then told him to get out of the outfit and get back into his normal clothes and take one of the cars back to their hotel. Jungkook agreed almost immediately as the rest of the members filled out of the room, leaving you and your soulmate alone for the first time.

“This why you excited for New York City? You seeing me?” Jungkook asked as he turned you to face him, you nodded. He laughed lightly. “You really surprised me, and you kept me on my toes the past two years.” Oh shit, he’s been voicing your thoughts way before you even started it because he’s two years older than you.

“Oh shit- I’m, I’m so sorry!” You laughed, you can’t imagine all the weird thoughts he got and not to mention in English so he was probably just as confused as you were.

“It made concerts difficult, but motivated me to learn English better.” He teased. He placed his hand on your face and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. He whispered a small plea. “Please don't let this be a dream.”

“It’s not. This is real.” You whispered back, opening your eyes and looking into his.

“Good, because then I can do this.” He gently pulled your face closer to his and met you halfway with a kiss. You’ll admit, you’ve never kissed anyone before but with Jungkook it all felt right. Granted it was a short and brief kiss, but you felt the emotion behind it all. He pulled away first and just looked at you. You could definitely see what all those comments were talking about with them saying Jungkook has the entire galaxy in his eyes. “I need to change now. Be right back?”

“I’ll be here.”

661 notes · View notes

olliepig · 3 years

Text

Centre Stage chapter 6

It feels like a long time since I posted the last chapter, thanks to Christmas, lockdown and the joys of homeschooling. Massive thanks to the wonderful @willow-salix for her cheerleading abilities and for betaing this thing.

As always, it’s available on AO3 here.

****************************************************

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking - ”

“Who are you talking to, you big idiot?” Cat laughed, reaching over the control console to smack Scott playfully in the arm. “Have you got a brother or two stashed back there or something?”

“Shut up and humour me, OK?” he pleaded with a grin from the pilot's seat, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’ve always wanted to do the proper announcement and nobody else would let me.”

“Fine, on you go, then,” Cat rolled her eyes as she shook her head in mock defeat, willing to let him get away with pretty much anything as a thank you for letting her sit in the cockpit with him.

“Welcome on board this Tracy Airlines flight from London Farnborough to Richmond, Virginia.”

“Wait, you’re taking us back to Richmond?” Cat interrupted in excitement, having been completely in the dark about Scott’s plans for the weekend until the day before. Even then, all she had been told was to make sure she had her passport and an overnight bag ready for a chauffeur to pick her up and take her to the airport.

“Sure am,” Scott grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “I thought it might be fun to go back to where it all began.”

“Aww, that’s such a lovely idea,” Cat smiled, reaching over the console again and giving his hand an appreciative squeeze, losing herself for a moment in the blue of his eyes as the radio crackled to life.

“Taxi to runway two-four left via bravo three, cross charlie.”

“Roger that, control.” Scott’s attention immediately snapped back to the task at hand, his professional mask slipping perfectly into place as he took control of the plane, throttling up the engines to start their short journey to the runway.

Cat watched in rapt attention. He’d only flown her once before but that had been in Thunderbird One which was a very, very different experience, and not just because it had been the day that they had finally got together. Being in the world-famous rocket plane was a dream come true, but it was also completely alien to her. This was much more normal, or at least, a normal that she was more able to comprehend.

“That’s the first one of those messages that I kinda understood,” she commented as they moved away, watching as they followed the markings on the taxiway. “Bravo means B doesn’t it? So we’ve to follow the signs that say B and they’ll take us to the runway?”

“We’ll make a pilot out of you yet,” joked Scott, a twinkle appearing in his eye as he glanced over at her before turning the jet onto the runway. “It won’t be long before you’re flying me places.”

“Not a chance,” Cat squeaked. “Even my sat nav is too complicated for me. I think I’ll stick to things with less buttons and switches, and that stay on the ground, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Tracy zero-one, cleared for takeoff runway two-four.”

“Cleared for take off runway two-four, Tracy zero-one,” Scott repeated back to the control tower, confirming their readiness to depart before turning back to Cat, a massive grin plastered on his face. “Ready to go then?”

Cat took a deep breath, taking in the long expanse of runway ahead of them, the bright lights trailing far into the distance. It was a view that always spoke to her of freedom and escape, and whenever she flew she always craned her neck to see that very view out of her little window in the cabin before the aircraft turned and it was lost to her. Never in a million years did she expect to be sitting in a cockpit with a perfect, uninterrupted view of it, about to take off in a private jet piloted by her boyfriend.

“Let’s do it,” she agreed with a grin, her heart rate accelerating in anticipation.

With a small nod, Scott pushed the throttle lever forward and the engines roared to life, pushing them back into their seats as the nose of the plane lifted and they took to the skies.

As the jet climbed toward the clouds, Cat sat back, allowing her mind to wander as she watched Scott speak with air traffic control and deal with the myriad of buttons and switches that seemed to require his attention. This chance to watch him as he worked was something that she hadn’t expected and she marvelled at the sheer professionalism he gave off as he concentrated, having only ever been privy to media footage of this side of him before now. Aside from her thrilling trip in Thunderbird One, she’d always seen the much more relaxed, casual side to him and it made her smile to be one of the few who knew both his private and public personas.

Seeing the small frown crossing his face as the plane was buffeted by crosswinds as they speared through the clouds, her smile widened as she remembered her first sight of him that day, leaning casually against a wall outside the airport, looking effortlessly cool as her car had pulled up. The knowledge that he could be anywhere in the world, yet had chosen to be there waiting for her, having planned a secret weekend escape for them both, had sent a thrill of excitement through her that she hadn’t yet fully gotten over.

The whole experience of the day so far was something she knew she’d not forget in a hurry. She flew a lot thanks to her work taking her all over the globe but, at best, she occasionally got to fly first class, still having to go through all the usual controls and checks at the airport before boarding the plane. Breezing through all of that and simply walking out onto the tarmac to a private jet that sat waiting to take her to an unknown destination was an indulgence that she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to.

The more she thought about it, the more Cat realised that it had just confirmed to her that she really had no idea how she had been so lucky to find someone as incredible as Scott. She knew that she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she found the private island and jet amazing, but the reality was that it was him that she was completely in love with, more than she had thought it possible to be in love with anyone. She had fallen for him long ago, before the island or the jet were even a pipe dream, and her experiences during the time they had spent apart had only served to solidify in her mind how amazing he was.

The best part of it was that she absolutely knew that he felt the same. Even though they weren’t able to spend a lot of time together, the time they did have was so special that there was not a shred of doubt in her mind about his affections. It made a nice change from other relationships that she had been in, where she had been left guessing and scrambling to try and read mixed signals for a hint of what was going on. Smiling to herself, she realised that this was actually the second relationship she had been in where she had felt completely secure and cherished. And the best part was that the last one had been with Scott too.

Feeling her eyes on him, Scott flicked the autopilot on, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips as he looked up to meet them, enjoying the now familiar flutter in his heart as he did so. “What?”

“Nothing,” Cat smiled lazily, making his breathing quicken in anticipation. “Just thinking about how damn sexy you are when you’re flying.”

“Oh, is that so?” Scott grinned, very happy with the turn the conversation had taken. “In that case, I’d better fly you places more often then.”

“Be my guest,” laughed Cat. “I could definitely get used to having the world’s most eligible bachelor as my personal pilot, even if he is off the market now.”

Scott’s stomach lurched at her words. Even though Cat had been incredibly understanding about the sensationalist newspaper story that had been published a few days previously about him dating Selene, he was still not allowing himself to believe that she was completely OK with it.

“Yeah, I'm sorry again about that,” he apologised, his troubled eyes betraying the forced brightness of his tone. “You know what these papers are like. They’ll print anything.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Cat exclaimed, taking in the change in his demeanour, amazed that he could possibly think that he had done anything wrong. “I know it’s a frustrating thing to have to deal with, but as far as I’m concerned the papers can publish whatever they like. I know nothing would ever happen between you two and when I actually looked at the story, their only evidence seemed to be a picture of you hugging your best friend before a press conference, which is pretty flimsy if you ask me. Selene and John are clearly perfect for each other so it never even crossed my mind that there could be any truth to it.”

“My heart just sank when I read it and I was so worried that you’d be angry, but then I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended when all you did was laugh when I called to tell you,” he joked, as a wave of calm washed over him, lightning his mood.

“Yeah, sorry about that, but I don’t know what else I could have done to be honest,” Cat smiled, glad to see the familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. “I guess cos I know Selene, I know she’s not a threat, but I can’t see why anyone would get worked up about a press report like that without talking to their partner first. It makes no sense to me at all.”

“That’s how I’ve always seen it too,” Scott smiled, beyond relieved that they seemed to have the same opinion on it, “but you never really know how someone’s going to react until it happens.”

“That sounds like it’s come from experience,” Cat observed, hitting a little too close to home for Scott’s comfort as he turned away to check a dial beside him, trying to keep his expression neutral. “But it’s a fair point. Aside from the fact that he was a fuckwit, one of the main causes of stress in my last relationship were press reports trying to link Mark and I together so I totally understand how it can cause problems.”

“See, I knew that,” Scott recalled, unsure of how he hadn’t remembered Cat telling him about her jealous and insecure ex until now. “I don’t know why I got so worried.”

“I think it’s probably natural,” Cat reassured him, meeting his eyes, losing herself in their blue depths and smiling as her heart skipped a beat. “But seeing as I’ve had experience of it from both sides now, I think I can honestly say that you’ll never need to worry about that sort of thing OK? I trust you.”

“See, this is why you’re so amazing,” Scott replied sincerely, holding her gaze and wishing there was a way he could get closer to her, their hotel room suddenly seeming a very long way away.

Reaching over the console between them, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss onto it.

“Thank you,” he murmured, barely audible over the noise in the cockpit.

“You’re very welcome,” Cat grinned. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Now, are there any laws about me getting up and exploring back there?” she added, turning to gesture to the rear of the plane. “I’ve never been on a private jet before and I’m very nosey.”

“Be my guest,” Scott laughed at her honesty. “I need to stay here, I’m afraid, but feel free to explore to your heart's content. You’ve got just under an hour before we land so have fun.”

Left alone in the cockpit, Scott sat back in his seat, dropping his face into his hands with a sigh before looking over all his instruments once more. Content that everything was as it should be, he closed his eyes and allowed the relief that their conversation had brought wash over him, his mind calmer than it had been in weeks. He couldn’t help but feel that her easy acceptance that things reported in the press should not be believed without question shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did but the reassurance that it had brought him was tangible. Being in a position as one of the most recognised men on the planet could have its advantages, but he had also found that it came with costs too. Costs that he did not wish to repeat.

I trust you. Those three little words reverberated in his head, equal in importance to the other three little words she had said to him for the first time only a few weeks before. He commanded trust every day from those he was helping, but to have it given freely from someone who’s life was not literally in his hands was something he had learned the hard way was not always guaranteed. He had never questioned it with Cat before now, but the publication of the story about his supposed relationship with Selene had thrown him, bringing back memories that he had spent years trying very hard to lock away.

Feeling hands on his shoulders, he was jolted back to the present, looking up to find Cat standing over him. Held captive by her gaze, happiness washed over him as he took her in, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight streaming through the window, turning her hair to strands of fire as she flicked it over her shoulder. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead before wordlessly turning and wandering back to the main cabin of the plane, leaving him breathless.

The rest of the day couldn’t come soon enough.

*****

“Scott, I think this suite is bigger than my entire flat,” Cat gasped, dropping her bag on one of the sofas as she looked around, taking in the elegant decor and multiple doors leading off the main living space. “I can’t believe you brought me here.”

“Well, we always used to wonder what this place was like, so I thought it might be fun to find out,” Scott grinned as he surveyed the room, delighted at her reaction to his choice of hotel for their time away.

They used to frequently walk past the Jefferson Hotel in downtown Richmond on their way to their favourite restaurant and, as they passed the imposing building, their conversation inevitably used to turn to what it must be like inside and how fun it would be to stay there one day. Funds had prevented them from finding out at the time but since they'd gotten back together, Scott had been determined that they would finally tick off something that had been on their bucket list for over a decade.

“Well, on first impressions, it’s definitely fancier than I thought,” Cat mused as she peeked into the lavish bathroom before following Scott into what looked like a dining room. “Did you see the chandelier when we were coming up the stairs?”

“It was hard not to with you elbowing me in the ribs and pointing,” Scott laughed, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her in for a quick kiss, enjoying the warmth of her as she pressed into him, making him think of all the possibilities they had with so much uninterrupted time together.

“You might have got me there, sorry about that,” Cat conceded with a grin as she wriggled out of his arms, leaving him bereft as she wandered over to the windows and peered out, her nose almost touching the glass. “Oh my God, we’ve got a full on balcony out there, complete with furniture and I think there’s actually flags on the flagpoles!”

“And a dining table in here, let's not forget about that,” Scott added from somewhere behind her, attracting her attention back to the interior of their room.

“That thing wouldn’t even fit in my kitchen,” Cat exclaimed, her eyes wide. “This place is insane. Do you think people have full on banquets in here or something?”

“Seems like they might,” Scott agreed, investigating the small bar that stood in the corner as Cat made her way back through to the lounge. “I don’t know why else they’d need such a big table for one bedroom.”

“Oooh, come and look at this,” Cat called, making Scott hurry after her, finding her sitting at a baby grand piano that they had somehow overlooked on their first investigation of the room. “We can take turns serenading each other. Although I have to admit I only know how to play chopsticks.”

“It’s a deal, but only if you agree to lounge on top of it looking sultry while I’m playing,” Scott grinned, running his fingers over the top of the instrument, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“Only if you return the favour,” Cat giggled, as an image of Scott balanced on the lid of the instrument, clad in one of the fluffy robes she had spotted in the bathroom earlier popped into her head.

“Not fair. I’d probably break it,” he objected with a pout that even Alan would be proud of.

“Well if you’re not willing to return the favour, there’ll be no sultry lounging for you, I’m afraid,” she smiled with a small shrug, closing the keylid and standing, feeling his eyes tracking her every move.

“Spoilsport,” Scott grinned, pulling her into him and gently brushing her hair away from her face before pressing a soft kiss on her full lips.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Cat asked as she wound her arms around his waist and snuggled into his embrace.

“It’s really up to you,” Scott smiled, enjoying the scent of her hair as it tickled his nose. “I thought we could maybe chill out here for the afternoon, then I booked us a table at Tarrant’s for tonight.”

“Really?” Cat squealed in excitement, pulling back to look at him. “That’s amazing! I wasn’t sure it would even still be there after all this time.”

“Well, luckily for us, it is, and from what I can see, it’s not changed much since we were last there,” Scott grinned, pleased to have been able to surprise her with a trip to their favourite restaurant. “But we’ve got a few hours before we need to go so it’s up to you what we do. There’s a pool in the hotel somewhere, or we could just relax here for a bit. It’s up to you.”

Cat fixed him with a gaze that made his heart rate quicken. “I think here sounds good to me. We could always have a swim tomorrow, but I feel like we’ve not really investigated the bedroom yet,” she smiled, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Scott didn’t need to be asked twice. He’d been dying to get his hands on her since he had first seen her climbing out of the car, but the downside of piloting his own plane meant that there was very little time for relaxation on the flight.

“Well then,” he smiled, dipping down to kiss her again. “I think that’s something we’d better remedy now isn’t it?”

“I think so,” Cat grinned as she pulled away from him, sliding her hand down his arm from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

Held captive by her gaze, Scott felt her fingers intertwine with his own as she turned and led him towards the bedroom. His breath quickening, he obediently followed behind, absolutely lost to the woman who had stolen his heart.

*****

“Do you think this’ll do?” Cat asked, giving a little twirl that sent the hem of her dress swinging out around her knees.

“It’s perfect,” Scott replied as he slid the knot in his tie up around his throat. “You look stunning, as always.”

“Why thank you,” she grinned, doing a little curtsey that made Scott chuckle. “You’re not looking too bad yourself,” she added with a wink before sashaying around the bed and grabbing her evening bag.

Shaking his head at her slightly backhanded compliment, Scott watched in the mirror as she made her way around the room, transferring belongings into the smaller bag before disappearing into the lounge of their suite to wait for him. Left alone, he put the finishing touches to his hair as his mind wandered back over their time together, allowing himself the time to make sure it was styled exactly how he liked it.

It was almost intimidating how polished she was now, he mused. She had already taken his breath away when she stepped out of the car at the airport and, when he thought back, he couldn’t think of a time when she looked anything less than flawless. He remembered her always being stylish, but while they had been apart, that style had clearly been honed and now, even when she was just relaxing in her flat in what she would describe as her comfy clothes, she never looked like she had a hair out of place.

With a smile, he realised that perhaps the same could be said in reverse. He got no end of teasing from his brothers about always looking his best, but making sure he was well put together had been a habit he had picked up when he realised that the girls tended to like boys who took care of their appearance and he had never quite shaken it since. Sure, he liked wearing clothes that were designed purely for comfort sometimes, but he was always careful to make sure that they suited him and were, at the very least, clean, unlike Gordon and Alan’s total disregard for what anyone else thought about their outfits. Sometimes, he found himself wishing he was a little less fastidious about how he looked but it was a part of him now and it didn’t seem like that was going to change.

He was almost glad that Cat seemed to feel the same about always looking good, but the little voice niggled at the back of his head, continuing to remind him that she had not always been like that. Perhaps their time apart had revealed a different side to her, making him wonder what else might have changed, and whether she dressed the way she did in the expectation of more than he was giving.

Sudden doubt flooded his mind as to his choice of restaurant for the night; it had seemed like a good idea when he had come up with it and she had reacted exactly the way he had expected when he had told her his plan, but it was not a place that could be described as high class. It held sentimental value, sure, and that’s why he had chosen it, but a seed of doubt had been planted as to whether it was truly where she would choose to go if given the opportunity..

Trying to distract himself from his thoughts, he grabbed their coats from the wardrobe, laying them carefully on the bed for when they were needed later. Turning back to close the doors, a flash of colour caught his eye and he reached in to stroke the emerald material, wondering what it was and how he had missed it earlier. Intrigue took over, and he pulled out a beautiful, floor length evening gown. It took his breath away and, even with his limited knowledge of ladies' fashion, he could tell that it would cling to Cat in all the right places.

His mind started to race once more as he stood, staring at the dress as if it had committed some horrible crime before stuffing it back into the wardrobe and slamming the door, unhelpful voices suggesting that if she had brought it with her, then clearly she was expecting to wear it, and he hadn’t organised anything that would require such a fancy dress. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm his thoughts as he stood motionless, unsure of what to think or how to feel.

Giving his hair one final smooth over, he shook his head to clear his uncertainty, choosing to trust her actions over his own insecurities. Yes, she had brought an evening gown with her, but she had given no hint that she was anything less than delighted with his decision on their venue for dinner so he vowed to think no more of his doubts and concentrate on enjoying their time together without overthinking everything.

Turning on his heel, he strode out of the bedroom, ready to scoop her up in his arms and start their evening on a positive note, but, as he entered the lounge, her whole demeanour stopped him in his tracks. His well developed instinct for trouble, honed by years of dealing with teenage brothers, screamed caution at him as he took her in, hunched over her phone, her body language radiating hostility.

“Are you OK?” Scott asked tentatively, taking in the set of her jaw and the way her eyebrows were practically knitted together as she typed furiously, her phone screen taking the brunt of her anger.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she huffed, finishing her message with a flourish and dropping her phone onto the sofa dramatically.

“You don’t look fine,” Scott pressed, cautiously crossing the room and sitting next to her, his earlier worries resurfacing at her refusal to tell him the cause of her anger. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Cat snapped, sighing as she picked up her phone again, a loud chime alerting her to another message. “I was just messaging Penny that's all.”

Scott watched her closely as she typed, knowing that no matter what she might have told him, something was most definitely going on. Something that he intended to get to the bottom of if it was making her this angry.

“Is Penny OK?” he asked cautiously as she dropped the phone onto the seat between them once more, trying to eliminate the various options for her anger that did not involve something he had done.

“She’s fine,” Cat snarled, her eyes glittering dangerously. “Just leave it, Scott. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“OK, OK,” Scott agreed, holding his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to talk that’s fine. I was just trying to help.”

“I know you were,” she assured him, taking a deep breath as she stood up, shooting him what she hoped would be a reassuring smile. “Just give me five minutes on the balcony to cool down and I’ll be OK.”

“No problem,” Scott agreed, having learned the hard way that giving Cat space when she was angry was essential. “I’ll be here when you’re feeling better, and then we can go for dinner, OK?”

“Perfect,” Cat agreed, flashing him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as her phone chimed again.

Watching her typing furiously again as she stalked out of the room, Scott flopped back onto the soft cushions and ran a hand through his hair, remembering as he did so that he’d only just finished styling it and it wasn’t yet set in place. Cursing, he hauled himself back up, trying very hard not to put his hand down anywhere as he headed back to the bedroom to sort out the damage.

Taking a deep breath, Scott did his best to calm his nerves as he fixed the damage he had done to his hairstyle. It was just a coincidence, he told himself. Just because she was angrily messaging her best friend while they were away for the weekend didn’t mean that it was because of anything he had done.

Sighing, he sat heavily down on the bed, causing the springs to creak under him. He didn’t know who he was trying to kid. Penny was perfect and not likely to be the cause of any anger, especially not when she knew that they were away on a break. That only left one option that he could see: she was angry because of him. Given her unwillingness to talk, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to fix it, but her anger plus the beautiful dress in her wardrobe combined to make him think that she had been expecting something more than he had arranged for that night and was upset that he hadn’t known her well enough to anticipate it. Pulling out his phone, he started the task of finding an alternative place to eat that might be more to her taste.

*****

Finally having taken care of everything she needed to, Cat left her bolt hole on the balcony and wandered back into the lounge, surprised to find it empty. She felt terrible at how she’d talked to Scott and the fact that the room was empty didn’t bode well for how he was feeling now. Her first instinct was to seek him out but, knowing that she was not alone in needing some time to herself to cool off when angry, she decided to wait it out for five minutes, then go and find him if he’d not reappeared by then.

Crossing to the window, she rested her head on the cool glass, watching the traffic go past on the street below as her thoughts continued to swirl. Sighing, she wished her friend hadn’t put her in the position that she was now in. She had always known that Penny could be difficult in a relationship and her behaviour had been the source of many disagreements between them in the past, but she had hoped that this time it would be different, especially as she clearly liked Gordon so much. Unfortunately, based on the messages she had just received, it seemed like that hope was misplaced and there had been an argument that was entirely Penny’s doing.

Now she found herself stuck in the middle, having clearly worried and upset Scott by her reaction to the messages but not being able to tell him why as it was not their place to meddle. She had already taken care of ensuring Gordon was OK, having sent a message to Selene to alert her to the situation and making sure that he wouldn’t be alone to deal with the fallout, but she couldn’t help feeling bad. Keeping anything from Scot didn’t sit well with her, but she knew how protective he was over his brothers and she desperately didn’t want to ruin their weekend away by bringing in someone else's relationship drama.

Hearing movement behind her, she spun around, taking the time to enjoy the sight of the man walking towards her, their coats draped over his arm. He didn’t seem angry, she thought, relief flooding through her. A little anxious, perhaps, but she hoped that could be alleviated easily enough and allow them to enjoy the meal that she had been so looking forward to.

“I was wondering where you had got to,” Cat smiled, crossing over to meet him in the middle of the room and sliding her arms around his waist, reaching up to give him a gentle kiss as he pulled her into him in an awkward one armed hug. “I’m sorry about all that.”

“That’s OK,” Scott smiled, trying to cover up his discomfort as he disentangled himself, laying his coat over the arm of the sofa. “Shall we go and get some dinner?”

“Are you alright?” Cat pressed, the reversal of roles from 15 minutes previously not lost on her as he helped her into her coat, the tightness of his jaw and the fact that he wasn’t meeting her eyes telling her that something was bothering him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Scott assured, slipping his coat on and checking to make sure he had the room key before holding the door open for her.

Walking down the hallway, Scott’s mind whirled with indecision, genuinely unsure whether he should broach the subject of where they were going or not. Cursing himself, he realised that it would have been better to talk in the room when they would have a chance to change instead of waiting until they were already out, but he hadn’t taken the chance and now it was too late for that. Choosing his words carefully, he took a deep breath.

“Are you sure you’re happy going to Tarrant's tonight? I found another place that’s a bit fancier that we could try instead if you’d rather? Or we could always eat in the hotel?”

“Scott?” Cat asked, confusion written across her face. “What’s going on? I thought you booked us a table?”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be changed if you’d rather go somewhere else,” he countered, not wanting her to think that they had to go there just because he’d been pushy enough to book a table for them without even consulting her.

“Well, I think going there is a great idea and so that’s what we should do,” Cat decided, reaching up to place a small kiss on his cheek as they waited for the elevator.

“Really? Are you sure you’d not rather go somewhere a bit nicer?” Scott pressed, not yet convinced that she was truly happy with his choice. “There's a couple of nice looking places that are just around the corner too.”

“Would you rather go somewhere else?” she turned his question back on him, bewildered as to why he might think she’d not want to go somewhere that held so many happy memories for them.

“Not at all, I just thought you’d rather go something a bit posher than Tarrant’s, that’s all,” Scott shrugged, he hoped in a way that seemed nonchalant and not betray the tension that was holding him rigid.

“No, thank you,” Cat declined firmly, irritation creeping into her tone as she wondered what on Earth had caused this sudden change of heart and why he kept pressing her on it when she had already made her preference known. “I don’t know where this has come from, but please don’t try to decide what I want. Going to our favourite restaurant is a lovely idea and you’ve already booked a table there so it’s precisely where we should go.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Scott replied doubtfully, the anger in her voice warning him that if he kept pushing, it would end in an argument that would see them going nowhere at all for dinner.

“For the thousandth time yes, I’m sure,” Cat sighed as a flash of exasperation surged through her. “Now, can we please go and eat? I’m bloody starving.”

Not waiting for an answer, she slipped her arm into his, practically dragging him out of the hotel and up the road towards the restaurant. It was by no means the first time that she had witnessed Scott worrying about a decision, and she strongly suspected that it wouldn’t be the last. Her only hope was that he would be able to relax and enjoy the rest of their night together now that he had gotten whatever it was that was bothering him out of his system.

#Scott Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Catriona George

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ladyfantasy98 · 4 years

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Flyers and Favors Part 3!!

Hello everyone! I hope you all are staying safe and sane in these difficult times.

So a few days ago I published another chapter to my Danny Phantom fanfic “Flyers and Favors” to fanfiction.net. You can read it there, or right here under the cut!

Thank-you all for your amazing support for this story and me!

You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Danny Phantom flew through the air at a breakneck speed, arms clasped to his sides. He strained himself forward, ever further, relishing the cool air blasting him in the face for a moment. He wanted to look behind him to see how close his opponent was, but he knew he couldn't afford to turn around now; it would cause him to slow down too much.

So he focused on his end goal: the tallest oak tree in Amity Park's...well...park. At 70 feet tall, with an ever-expanding canopy of branches and a thick, wide outer bark, Danny would recognize it anywhere. If he could just get there he'd be in the clear.

A buzzing sound on his left, closer than ever before. The enemy was catching up. With a last burst of speed and a strangled cry, Danny lurched forward, arm outstretched, reaching for the tree. His hands closed around one of the branches, and he swung himself around it a few times, expending his built-up momentum. After a couple more cycles around the branch, he turned to face his adversary. Breathing hard, he grinned and exclaimed,

"I win again, Valerie! Take that!"

Valerie Gray, also known as the Red Huntress, hovered on a black hoverboard a few feet away from the oak tree. She had slowed her own dash to the tree once she saw that Danny had beaten her. She was dressed in her signature red and black battlesuit, composed of ecto-charged nanobots (rewired by Tucker to prevent Vlad Plasmius or Technus from overpowering it). She touched her helmet and it melted away, revealing the scowl on her face and her curly brown hair, pulled back in a high ponytail. She crossed her arms and glared at the Ghost Boy.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Danny. But like it or not, I'm getting closer all the time," Valerie answered, her glare transforming into a smirk. Danny shrugged, unconcerned, and floated down to the ground. Valerie followed, dismissing her hoverboard with a couple taps of her heels, landing softly on the grass.

"Sure, sure, just keep telling yourself that," said Danny. Dusk was setting in, the last of the sunlight fading behind the horizon. That, coupled with the shade of the oak tree, made Danny's glowing green eyes stand out even more.

The night was quiet, aside from the occasional bird call or squirrel scampering up a tree. Snatches of conversation and laughter floated along the air as people headed home for the night. It might have been June, but the longest day of the year was still a week or so away, as was the end of school. Thankfully for Danny, Valerie, and their friends, they had officially graduated high school last week and were no longer slave to the school schedule.

They did, however, still adhere to a town patrol schedule. Ghost attacks in Amity had lessened in the last year or so, but they were still a problem. Danny and his cousin Danielle could usually contain the ones that slipped out of the Fenton portal, but that still left their stronger enemies, and occasionally natural portals in nearby towns or wild areas would open up, allowing random ne'er-do-well ghosts access to the town.

Tonight was Danny and Valerie's turn on patrol. Once high school classes became tougher and the class/patrol workload became harder to manage, Tucker had created an automated shuffler that determined who went on patrol each night, whether they had a partner, and who that partner was. Last night Sam and Tucker kept a lookout; the night before it had been Danielle. Sometimes, when Jazz was home from Columbia University, she would take a shift to alleviate her brother's and his friends' burden.

After making a few loops around town and finding no disturbances, Danny and Valerie had decided to take a break and race each other towards the park. Danny hoped they could be done for the night, since there hadn't been any whiff of ghostly activity.

But then - almost as if the universe had read Danny's mind and wanted to prove him wrong - a shiver rippled down the Ghost Boy's spine and he gasped, emitting a blue wisp of air.

"Ah, man," Danny groaned, before adopting a fighting stance, eyes darting around for the source of his Ghost Sense. Valerie copied him, sliding into a battle-ready pose, body tense.

A familiar female laughter echoed around them, and then Ember McClain faded into view before them. She hovered about five feet off the ground, clutching her purple and electric blue guitar to her chest.

"Wassup, punks," she greeted, grinning wickedly.

Valerie growled in response. "What do you want, ghost?"

Ember's grin faded. Nose turned up, she glanced away from Valerie and looked at Danny instead. "How can you stand to hang out with her, Phantom?" the ghost asked icily. "Three years in and she can't even remember anyone's name."

"I know better than to say your name, you wannabe American Idol," Valerie retorted.

Ember's eyes blazed with anger. "Wannabe!?" She raised her guitar and aimed its neck at Valerie, who raised a red ecto-shield in response.

Before they could engage, however, Danny hovered between them, arms spread wide. "Woah, woah, ladies! Let's calm down a bit, alright? It's such a beautiful summer evening, do we really have to spoil it with fighting?"

"She started it," both Valerie and Ember exclaimed in unison, followed by glaring at each other.

Eventually, though, Ember turned away from the huntress. "But don't worry, Dipstick, I don't plan on fighting you tonight."

Danny brightened at that. Maybe they could actually come to a peaceful resolution for once, and he and Valerie could be done for the night. "Really? So you're just gonna head back to the Ghost Zone now? Awesome."

Ember threw her back and laughed. "Ah, you wish, Baby-pop. But I've got free reign tonight 'cause you're not allowed to stop me, remember. You said we could do whatever we wanted as long as we did it after your graduation, right?"

"I...did not say that, actually," Danny responded. Then he frowned. "Well, I mean, I didn't say that exactly. I guess the "wreak havoc" part could have been misconstrued..."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "I knew sending that flyer was a bad idea," she muttered.

Danny sighed. He rose up into the air, green ecto-energy surrounding his hands. "Alright, Ember, I'm sorry, but I can't quite let that happen. But I'm sure we can work something out. I guess I do sorta owe you for letting me finish high school first."

"Yeah, Dipstick, you do. And don't worry, I got something special for you right here," the popstar replied, reaching into her pocket. Danny raised his still-glowing hands, while Valerie flipped open a wrist-blaster. They waited, breaths held, watching for Ember to make the first move. Ember pulled her hand out of her pocket and -

- thrust a piece of paper into Danny's face.

Danny reared back, surprised, his ecto-blasts sputtering into nothingness. He grabbed the paper from Ember and examined it. Printed onto a cream-colored paper, blue and black lettering exclaimed:

You're Invited!

To: Danny Phantom's Graduation Party

Where: Ember McLain's lair, the Ghost Zone

When: Saturday, 2pm

Requirements: You're capable of NOT trying kill the Ghost Boy for a few hours

RSVP: Immediately. Note - Party crashers welcome, but you will be forced to clean up afterwards

The ghost boy looked between the paper and Ember. Ember was looking to the side, arms crossed.

"Well?" she asked, still not looking at him. "Are you going to be there or not?"

"I - I don't understand. You're...throwing me a party?" Danny asked, bewildered. Valerie frowned and snatched the paper from him, eyes widening as she read its contents.

"Well...yeah. I mean. It's a big deal. Graduating high school...not...not everyone does it, you know," Ember said. She glanced at him, a strange bluish-green blush on her face. "And...you've had a rough time with it. Because of all the ghost fighting you do. So, I...yeah. We're throwing you a party."

"Wow. Um. Thanks, Ember," Danny told her. He floated downwards, putting his feet on the ground. He had attended a few graduation parties this summer already - Valerie's, for one, as well as Star's (again, because of Valerie). And he, Sam, and Tucker had had a combined graduation party at Sam's house for all their families - Mr. and Mrs. Manson hadn't been thrilled with the idea, but since Sam had not only graduated high school (something they'd feared their rebellious daughter would have abandoned during one of her moods), but with good grades and plans to go to college as well, they'd indulged her her specific celebratory requests.

Danny had enjoyed those festivities, even if they'd been a little embarrassing, too. But he'd never in a million years thought anyone in the Ghost Zone would throw him a party, especially Ember - and for a human milestone celebration at that. He hadn't even thought the flyer would keep so many of his frenemies away, and yet, he'd had an almost ghost-free last couple weeks of school.

"Hey, Phantom! I asked you a question! The response says immediately, so respond immediately!" Ember snapped, breaking Danny from his reverie. He shook his head to clear it, and saw that she was glaring at him.

With a sheepish smile, Danny answered, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there. Thanks again, Ember."

The popstar returned his smile. Tension left her body, and she sounded satisfied as she said, "Good. I'll see you there, then."

"Oh, actually," Danny started, looking over at Valerie, "is it alright if some others come, my friends I mean? Since -"

"No!" Ember snarled, her hair lighting up in fury. After a moment it died down, and the bluish-green blush returned. "I - I mean, no. This is - this is a ghost party, that we're throwing for you, halfa. So - ghosts only." A pause, then, "You can bring Danielle, then. But no one else. Got it?"

"Got it," Danny replied, sweat-dropping a little.

"Good. So you're coming. Remember, Saturday at 2 o'clock." Ember leaned in, getting up in Danny's face. Her eyes narrowed as she growled, "Don't. Be late."

Danny nodded dumbly. Ember pulled back, nodded approvingly, and then jettisoned off, riding on her guitar. Danny watched her go, wondering how he could have offended her this time.

Valerie also watched the ghostly musician leave, a frown on her face. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Danny?" she asked. "Accepting her invitation?"

Danny turned towards her, tilting his head. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you know...it's Ember. She's caused you and the town so much trouble over the years."

Danny waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, yeah. But so has practically half the Ghost Zone. It's no biggie. Even if this is some kind of prank or trap or something, it's nothing I can't handle." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Right?"

Valerie's lips quirked up, but she still sighed. "I know you can handle the ghosts, Danny. When you're fighting them, that is. It's just...lately you've settled into this...kinda friendly stalemate, and I'm just worried...I don't want you to get hurt, if they take advantage of your forgiving nature."

She reached out a hand and placed it on Danny's arm, leaning in slightly. Her gaze softened as she looked at him, pale green eyes crinkled in the corners. "I care about you, Danny. You know that."

Danny smiled back at her, warmth spreading through him. He covered her hand with his for a moment, relishing the touch, but then - slowly, hesitantly - he moved it off his arm. He and Sam were officially on - another - break, but whatever he may or may not be rekindling with Valerie, he wanted to make sure it was something they were both ready for, that it wasn't a rebound or a pre-college summer fling. He wanted to take things slow.

"I know you do, Val. And I appreciate that. And...I hear what you mean. About the ghosts." Danny rubbed the back of his head. Valerie had gotten a lot less fanatical about eliminating ghosts once she'd learned that Vlad Masters was really Vlad Plasmius, and that Danny Phantom was really Danny Fenton. She trusted Danny to make judgement calls on whether or not a ghost needed destroying or simply to be sent back into the Ghost Zone (98% of the time, he decided it was the latter).

But there were times when a more forceful hand was needed. Ghosts could be destructive, whether they meant to be or not. That was why Danny became a superhero in the first place. Why he and Team Phantom did patrols every night. Why Valerie and Danielle had spent last summer on a ghost-hunting road trip, sending ghosts that slipped through natural portals around the country back home.

And maybe Danny had gotten a little cozier with his enemies than ever before, but that wasn't bad, was it? He never let them run wild, never let them hurt anyone. If he turned a blind eye so Kitty and Johnny could have a date, or let Klemper sleep over a few times, what was the harm?

And if this party really was an excuse to ambush him or something - well, then he would just have to remind the Ghost Zone who was the boss.

Danny smiled at Valerie, who still looked concerned. "It's fine, Val. Don't worry about it." He rose up into the air, merging his legs into a wispy tail. "Let's head in for tonight, alright? Sam said we could watch a movie at her house after we finish."

Valerie stared at him for a few more seconds, before she nodded, a reluctant smile on her face. "Yeah. Sounds good."

She put her helmet back on and activated her hoverboard. Danny waited until she was in the air, and then the two of them sped off towards their friend's house.

...

Saturday rolled around quickly enough, and at 1:45pm, Danny and Dani stood in front of the Fenton portal.

Dani rocked back and forth on her purple sneakers. She was wearing a dark purple tank top and black shorts, her black hair pulled into a loose ponytail. "I'm so excited! Going to Ember's for a party? This is gonna be so fun!"

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, well, don't get too carried away, alright? Honestly, this could still be a trap."

Dani rolled her eyes. "Please. Faking a graduation party and ambushing you is so not Ember's style. Walker's, maybe, but no one else's."

"Yeah, that's what I said." Danny had reassured his friends of the same thing countless times over the last few days.

From one of the workbenches came an angry rattling sound. Both halfas turned to see a white and green Fenton thermos shaking in a glass container. It currently contained Skulker, and probably would for the rest of the summer. Dani had insisted on it, since he'd so blatantly ignored Danny's request to not bother him during finals.

Danielle stuck her tongue out at the thermos, then turned to her cousin. "Come on, let's go already!"

"Alright, alright." Danny chuckled once more. Then, gathering his energy, he exclaimed, "Going Ghost!"

Danielle grinned as two white rings appeared around her cousin, transforming him into Danny Phantom. A second later, she let the transformation wash over her, and then there were two Phantoms standing in the lab - black and white jumpsuits replacing their regular clothes, black hair dyed white and blue eyes now a glowing green.

Danny floated over to the portal opener and pressed his thumb into the DNA scan. A mechanical grating sound was heard, and then the portal opened, revealing the swirling green vortex that led to the Ghost Zone.

Danielle joined Danny in the air, and then both Phantoms flew from one end of the portal to the other, leaving the human world behind.

#danny phantom #danny phandom #danny fenton #half ghosts #danielle phantom #dani phantom #danielle fenton #valerie gray #the red huntress #ember mcclain #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #flyers and favors #part three #there will probably be a part four #at some point

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livingdeadinsideyourhead · 3 years

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Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

#iggy pop #idk if anyone posted it here already #I'm just too lazy to look up so #here it is!

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pokefarm-q · 3 years

Text

firewolf1117 refuckingceipts (it's all been removed now but people archived it)

this bitch:

When you say “All Cops are”, here’s what you’re really saying:

All Blacks are Criminals All Mexicans are Illegal All Americans are stupid, fat, and lazy All Rape Victims are liars All Suicide Posters are Attention Seekers All Muslims are Terrorists All LGBT deserve to die

Are you outraged yet? GOOD.It means I touched a nerve.

You would never, ever, EVER say those things about those groups of people because you KNOW that it’s not true, even in the slightest. There are so very very FEW Cops who are actually corrupt and using their power and position inappropriately.

So what gives you the right to say the same about cops? COPS! Who are practically SOLDIERS! EVERY DAY their family lives with the fear that they won’t return. EVERY DAY they put their lives in danger to PROTECT you! They, as a whole, deserve your RESPECT!!! MOST ALL “Brutality” cases are from the CRIMINAL fighting, disrespecting, grabbing a weapon, etc. If you’d just COOPERATE AND BE RESPECTFUL you’d be treated FAIRLY!! Cops don’t have the time to sort things out. Their snap second decisions PROTECT them AND nearby Civilians. You can’t possibly understand the FEAR AND TERROR they hold EVERY SECOND of EVERY DAY! So don’t you DARE judge them for mistakes.

and here’s the response of one brave user, this legend, this badass mofo, who replied to their bullshittery and got banned for a day for posting in the whiny crybaby bitch’s journal without permission:

Replying to this, because FireWolf1117 is intentionally spreading misinformation and hate. I don’t care if the staff is going to tell me off for this — for once, I care a little more about setting this right than following the Journal rule.

First of all, United States cops are legally not required to save civilians. It’s not considered unconstitutional, according to the case Warren v. District of Columbia (444 A.2d. 1, D.C. Ct. of Ap. 1981). To keep it short, cops can literally see crimes being committed and decide not to intervene if they feel like it. This has been quite common among police departments if you (objectively) compare the police’s actions during BLM protests and anti-lockdown protests.

Anyways, let’s get to your generalizing logic. I have to agree with you on one thing: generalizing is bad. No group should be generalized because of some rotten apples. However, this doesn’t count for cops. Here’s why not:

The police force isn’t a marginalized group. A police officer is a profession. A job. Cops are public servants. They work for the state, for the civilians. And that’s why they need to be held accountable for any misconduct they commit. Which is, unfortunately, is objectively not the case. According to statistics from https://mappingpoliceviolence.org, 99% of United States cops who have killed citizens have not been criminally charged, because police departments literally protect officers from getting tried. Of the 750+ shootings done by police this year, only four cops are getting tried. So much for “there are only a few corrupt ones”. Black people are also way less likely to carry a weapon compared to White people, while Black people get shot by cops thrice as likely.

What’s more, because the police force is a profession, people can quit being a police officer. This doesn’t count for most of the groups you mentioned: Black people can’t stop being Black, Mexican people can’t stop being Mexican, Americans can’t stop being American (also you including Americans kinda makes you look embarrassing lol no offense), rape victims can’t be ‘unraped’, Muslims (or even just Arabs in general) can’t stop being perceived as Muslims (even Sikhs get seen as Muslims nowadays…) and LGBTI+ people can’t stop being LGBTI+ (unless they discover they’re not). Police officers can literally take their uniform off and be perceived as normal human beings. As soon as they are on duty and take on their uniform, a huge responsibility awaits them. A responsibility that has been abused by them to the point that marginalized people will hesitate before calling the police, fearing that the police will either come too late or escalate the situation. Cops aren’t endangering their own lives. They’re endangering the lives of those they’re supposed to protect. No good person would shoot a man in his back SEVEN times for being 'aggressive’. No good person who claims to protect and serve would kneel on someone’s neck for eight minutes while that person was cooperating with them. No good person would shoot a completely innocent woman in her sleep because they raided the wrong house. (BTW, Breonna Taylor’s murderers are still walking free as if nothing happened.) No good person would shoot a 12-year-old kid for having a toy gun. No good person would kill a man in his car for… picking up his ID to show it to the cop. Just because you cooperate, doesn’t mean that you’re safe.

Your logic is clearly flawed, because you judge cops on their personality, and not on the bigger picture. All cops are “bastards” not because we see all of them are evil killing machines that shoot people on sight — it’s because they contribute to an oppressive system, whether it’s directly or indirectly. It’s more than 'just a few cops’: the government wants bad laws to be enforced, the prison system is getting used as a business model, minorities are forced to live in poor socioeconomic areas on purpose BY the government, gentrification exists, multi billionnaires are exploiting low-class working people even more, there’s a damn pandemic that’s not being taken seriously… And guess who’s at the front of keeping the fragile capitalist system intact? Right. The police. The face of the government, that’s laughing at Black people, people of color, disabled people, LGBTI+ people… No good cop exists, even if they’re nice to everyone. Good cops who speak out against the abuse of other cops get fired, because the police departments don’t want the truth to be exposed. If you truly want to be someone who saves people’s lives, then stop being a cop and get a better job, like a firefighter, an EMT, a psychologist… Anything that isn’t completely corrupted.

Even during the recent BLM protests, cops are showing off their power. They escalate situations without provocation more times than BLM protesters start shit. Also cops are committing literal war crimes by using tear gas and other chemicals against civilians (IT GOES AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTION FOR FUCK’S SAKE). Not so protective now, aren’t they? The only thing BLM protesters have hurt are cops’ ego. Trust me, protesters being a little mean to cops won’t ever be as bad as all the innocent lives cops have taken and covered up.

I want to go on forever, because I have a lot more to say (such as why “All Lives Matter” is reactionary and racist, how the police force was formed in the first place, how the effects of slavery and colonialism are still being felt by Black people to this day, how and why 'riots’ can be 'justified’), but I’ll leave it at this. At least I got to give counterarguments to your points. Take care and educate yourself! (Tip: stop watching FOX News and Infowars if you do that, you’re going to develop brainrot! ;__;)

ladies and gentleman of the jury, as you can see, this user not only came into this argument prepared, but they were civil and had links (that aren’t links now oop soz). they gave this bitch plenty of opportunity to learn and grow from this without attacking her.

but your bet your ASS the poor little white girl went crying to her daddy about people ATTACKING HER and BULLYING HER FOR HER OPINIONS!!!! she uses her anxiety as a get out of jail free card CONSTANTLY, bitching and moaning about how, and these are directly quoting from HER own journal:

MAY 29, 2020

I log in to this game to have fun and escape the stresses and problems of real life. I do NOT want to be going about my business, and see “BLM” in someone’s Trainer Card, and have to deal with a surge of overwhelming emotions (whether positive or negative). I simply cannot handle the Anxiety that results.

This is a GAME site. NOT a place to share your political, racial or other stances. PLEASE keep ALL such topics OFF this site. I understand you want to talk about them, and that’s fine. But out of respect for people like me, can you please do so in private with the people you know WANT to see and discuss it?

just admit you’re racist dude.

She uses CSS. SHE CAN FUCKING HIDE OTHER PEOPLE’S FUCKING CARDS. PEOPLE CAN TALK ABOUT WHATEVER THEY DAMN WELL PLEASE ON THEIR OWN DAMN PAGES. THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU.

Also! You know she only put “whether positive or negative” to quell any hate she might’ve gotten because ANXIETY is usually not a positive emotion. There’s not even a positive CONNOTATION. and she hopes to be published by the end of the year lmfao yeah right.

and then, on JUNE 16, 2020:

I WAS going to make a post in response to the most recent announcement, but now I’m just too frazzled and upset about it. Still making a post. I’ll just be posting it off site so I can say things how I want to say them, and so I don’t have any in game repercussions.

Honestly, though. I log onto this site to ESCAPE reality. I do NOT want to see ANY stance on ANY “cause” ANYWHERE. NONE OF IT BELONGS HERE. NONE!!!! Because of this “decision”, I’m going to make one of my own. I am gone from this site until current affairs are resolved. Heck. Perhaps even after. I will NOT be a part of a site that allows…Ugh. NOT going to get into this here.

but like… she came back a month later lmao

OH AND!! Earlier this month on AUGUST 6, 2020 she posted this!

It really breaks my heart seeing derogatory remarks against Cops in people’s Trainer Cards. It’s upsetting that you feel that way, and even more so that you make your hatred so vehemently known.

Personally, I don’t know why any of those Cop comments are allowed. If someone had something in their Trainer Card against Religion, LGBT, or POC, I guarantee that statement would be removed. So why is it alright for people to make hateful, vile, disgusting remarks against Cops? Despite it being someone’s personal opinion, it’s still Hate Speech, and shouldn’t be allowed.

this bitch is part of the lgbt+ community. she’s part of a marginalized group.

The “"derogatory remarks”“ she’s talking about? #AllCopsAreComplicit #CopsStinky #AllCopsSuck

which brings us back to Exhibit A, ladies and gentlemen! Her equating #AllCopsAreComplicit and #CopsSTINKY to "All LGBT deserve to die” and a Shitton of other stereotypes. Well fucking done.

Despite bitching and moaning about I DONT WANNA SEE ANYTHING, despite there being ways she can fucking hide it HER DAMN SELF she chooses instead to bitch piss moan bitch piss moan bitch piss and fucking moan and then when someone calls her out on her genuinely harmful bullshit, pulls the wounded gazelle gambit, claims she’s being attacked, and puts in her Card that “anxiety attack! again! waaaah!” like anyone has a shred of sympathy left for her ugly ass. She can’t handle looking like the bad guy so she plays the anxiety card. She bitches about never having any friends, only depression and anxiety, and it’s like bitch no fucking wonder.

Both the top posts have been taken down, but the user who responded to her has gotten nothing but love for her mad courage in saying something when no one else dared.

Firefurrywolf made a halfassed apology (August 30, 2020) which I won’t go into but there is one line that sticks out to me because it’s such a goddamn lie:

When I state my opinion, I usually do so with grace and eloquence. I did not think about my actions this time.

… do you?

This is a GAME site. NOT a place to share your political, racial or other stances. PLEASE keep ALL such topics OFF this site.

Do you… really?

I log onto this site to ESCAPE reality. I do NOT want to see ANY stance on ANY “cause” ANYWHERE. NONE OF IT BELONGS HERE. NONE!!!!

I don’t think so. You vile, disgusting, manipulative, obnoxious, PRETENTIOUS, racist, terfy bitch.

Oh, before I forget, yeah. Terf. She looks like one too. All over her insta. Gross.

NOVEMBER 19, 2019

My response to a LGBT post in one of my writing groups.

I don’t know most of these terms within the community. Don’t really care to know either, cause your preferences won’t change my feelings about who you are. I probably should, though, cause the Its and Xes really confuse me.

I knew I was a Demi-Ace for a few years. I’ve also known that I was Poly since I was early teens. But I’m also attracted to beauty and care more about who you are as a person than your preferences, so apparently I’m Panaesthetic as well?

Also firm believer of “True Love Knows NO Bounds”

Her journal got moved to 18+ because there was a post talking about sex. Might’ve even been alluding to rape. On a CHILDREN’S SITE. In her CHILD-FRIENDLY journal. It sat there for at least two months. TWO MONTHS. But I will not be posting that here, but it’s still there if anyone wants to snoop. All of this is public. Well, it was. But at least minors won’t be exposed to this histrionic little whiny whitey who is absolutely drowning in her white privilege.

Just because she changed her pfp from her face to a shitty drawing she did doesn’t hide the fact that she’s white, and the worst kind of person with little to no actual coping skills.

She claims to be an artist, a writer, all this, blah blah, but then why doesn’t she channel any of it into her work so she can get fucking better at them? She says she’s working on losing weight, so do that. Instead of shrieking and stomping your fucking feet like a toddler at the peak of their terrible two’s, throwing tantrum after fucking tantrum on a CHILDREN’S SITE about your shitty stances, go for a fucking walk. Punch a fucking punching bag. Literally anything else. You’ll feel better, you’ll lose weight faster, you’d be keeping your vitriol to your damn self and no one will “attack” you.

“Are you ourtraged yet? GOOD. It means I touched a nerve!”

She fucking wanted a reaction. But couldn’t handle it when she actually got one. I’m so embarrassed. Grow some fucking thicker skin, you’re older than I am. Grow a pair and shut the goddamn FUCK up.

For now, the evil is defeated, and I rest my fucking case.

#this is a nice archive #pokefarm #pfq #pokefarm drama #submission

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

Text

sing me to sleep, bastard

pairing: sterek

word count: 2.5k

rating: mature

warnings: swearing, slight angst

notes: published a little while ago (on ao3), but not on here and is edited! Because sometimes, Stiles just has to get his feelings out.

Stiles was tired.

Like pulling at his soul, trying to drag him into an early grave, tired. He’d say he wished for the sweet relief of death but after everything he’d faced, that would be a crappy way to go. So, Stiles continued to trudge through his shift at the open 24/7 coffee shop and tried not to think about how he could be sleeping right now.

His co-worker noticed.

“Stiles, the bags under your eyes literally have their own bags.”

Stiles screwed up his face and groaned, dropping his head onto the counter. The shop was empty other than one other person— another college student, by the looks of it— because no one else in their right mind would come out this late. On weekends, Stiles’s shifts didn’t end until four in the morning. So of course, he was exhausted.

“Thanks,” he said, turning his head toward Milo. “I didn’t notice.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

In truth? Stiles had not been sleeping. When he wasn’t working, he was attending classes at Beacon Hills Community College. When he wasn’t attending classes, he was chasing the monster of the week around town. Quite frankly, he never seemed to be sleeping.

But he couldn’t tell Milo that.

“Of course I’ve been sleeping,” Stiles said with a laugh. “Who doesn’t love sleep? I love sleep. I would marry sleep if that was acceptable.”

Milo raised a brow. Stiles could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“I’ve just been stressed with school,” he said, shrugging. “You know how it goes.”

That finally made Milo grin. The guy chuckled, turning back to the mug he was cleaning, and nodded. “Damn right I know how it goes. Life’s a bitch, man.”

Life was a bitch. And Stiles was just doing his best to survive it.

He lifted his head off the counter and focused again on the book he’d sneakily read between customers. The last thing Stiles’s brain wanted to do was read Hemingway at the moment, but his professor insisted the author was a classic and therefore a must-read for the class. Stiles thought it was a miracle he hadn’t thrown the book out a window yet.

He’d gotten close. Multiple times.

Suddenly, the bell over the door rang. Stiles slapped his book shut and stuffed it out of sight, raising his head with a smile that was all sorts of professional. Only, the expression melted when he saw who’d entered. One such figure who’d frozen the moment he’d seen Stiles too.

“Derek?”

Derek blinked, staring at him for a long moment. Then he turned and walked right back out of the cafe. Stiles stared in shock and Milo shot him a confused glance. “Dude?”

“Did you just see that too?”

“Um, yeah. Do you know that guy or something?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles ripped his apron off. It really had been Derek— Derek Hale— the bastard who’d left town four months ago without so much of an explanation, and hadn’t been in contact since. Milo was looking at Stiles like he was crazy.

“Stiles, is everything alright?”

“Can you finish the rest of this shift without me?” Stiles asked, still struggling to pull his apron up around his head. “I swear I’ll be in your debt forever, seriously.”

“Sure, man,” Milo said. “I got your back.”

Stiles finally ripped off his apron and shot Milo a grin, dropping it to the floor. He didn’t even bother with his book— Hemingway could suck it— and scrambled over the counter. “Thank you so much, dude! I owe you!”

He didn’t hear Milo’s response as he stumbled outside. Derek’s camaro was already peeling out of the parking lot, but Stiles had him in his sights. The bastard wasn’t going anywhere.

Roscoe, thankfully, started without a struggle. Backing out, Stiles hit the gas and started in the direction Derek’s car had vanished. He couldn’t believe Derek actually had the nerve to come back to town, to see Stiles in the coffee shop, and then leave. Like Stiles was going to grow fangs of his own and rip his throat out of something.

Though, shit, if Stiles did have fangs, he just might. He was pissed.

Of course, Derek headed to his loft. The same loft that had been empty for four months, no matter how many times Stiles had driven past. And he did drive past. Every day at first, then weekly. Eventually, he’d just given up, because it was obvious Derek wasn’t coming back.

Stiles had moped for weeks. Scott didn’t even understand why.

Stiles wasn’t willing to admit why.

Derek must have gotten there in record time because the Camaro was empty. Stiles stuffed his keys into his pocket and stalked toward the loft. He punched in the security code to the alarm, because the last thing he wanted was to let Derek known he’d followed him, and stalked upstairs.

Still, he imaged Derek would catch his scent. Good, he thought. Let him. Stiles was willing to make Derek squirm.

He pulled the door open and stalked inside. Derek was pacing in the middle of the room and spun around, freezing as Stiles approached. His eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights and Stiles jabbed a finger right into his chest, fury billowing over.

“Derek, you asshole, what the hell? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were back in town! No, no, actually I totally can, but I can’t believe you just ran like that. Dude! What the hell? ”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles? Stiles? That’s all you have to say? That’s so messed up, Derek!”

Derek reached up, taking Stiles’s hand, and pulled his finger away from his chest. Stiles did his best to continue scowling, but it was hard when Derek was practically holding his hand and looking like Stiles’s words had somehow gutted him. Even though he was the bastard who’d gone missing for four months. “Hey, Stiles.”

Stiles gaped at him. He couldn’t believe Derek had come back to Beacon and the first actual sentence he said was ‘Hey, Stiles.’ It was so terrible. So wrong. It wasn’t fair.

“I hate you,” Stiles said. Derek flinched away and Stiles cursed himself, trying again. “Okay, fine, I don’t really hate you. But dude, where the hell did you go? Do you realize how long it’s been? Do you realize how worried I was?”

“You were worried?”

Shit, fuck. “The pack was worried.”

“But you said you.”

“No, stop twisting my words, Sourwolf. I meant the pack.”

Derek raised a brow and Stiles wanted to punch him for having the audacity to look like that. But instead, he deflated and glanced around the loft.

“How long have you been back?”

“Only tonight.”

Stiles looked back at him. “You couldn’t have called? At least once to let me— to let us— know you were okay? The last time you vanished we found you buried in Aztec temple with a werejaguar out for revenge, dude. Anything could have happened.”

“I needed some time to get my head straight,” Derek said, letting go of his hand. Stiles tried not to feel too disappointed at the loss of contact. “I had to think about some things.”

“Things? What things could possibly be more important than the pack?”

Derek wouldn’t look at him. Stiles felt something in his chest twist and snap and he pulled away, crossing his arms over his chest. A chill raced up his spine.

“Leaving was an asshole thing to do, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek said softly. Stiles glared at him.

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please when you vanish for four months straight and then turn up out of nowhere without an explanation.”

Derek’s eyelashes fluttered. Struck by sudden guilt, Stiles took a deep breath.

“Don’t you realize Scott still needs you around? Just because he’s an Alpha and we’ve all graduated from high school doesn’t mean all the big baddies of Beacon Hills have suddenly gone away. They haven’t decided to give us a break just because we’re growing up, Derek. Hell, Lydia almost died last week because of a vengeful fairy!”

“I��m sorry,” Derek muttered, flinching away. He actually looked pained and that broke Stiles’s heart. Because everything Stiles had said was true. But not the whole truth. More people than Scott needed Derek Hale to remain in Beacon Hills. Stiles swallowed hard.

“Are you going to leave again?”

“What?” Derek looked at him in shock, eyes going wide. Stiles resisted the urge to curl up in on himself at the expression.

“Are you going to leave again? Or are you back for good?”

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice cracking slightly. The older man stepped forward, then hesitated, hands clenching in and out of fists at his sides. He ducked his head. “I’m here now.”

“But for how long?”

“As long as you’ll have me.”

Stiles looked at him in sharp confusion. Derek’s eyes searched his own, looking more vulnerable than Stiles had ever seen them. He looked cautious and scared. It was wrong.

“... Is that okay, Stiles?”

“Why did you leave, Derek?” Stiles asked shakily. “What were things?”

“I—” Derek trailed off. Stiles clenched his jaw.

“Derek, why the hell did you leave?”

Derek suddenly squared his shoulders and turned away, stalking across the room. The sudden change of mood was startling. “You should go, Stiles. I’m back now and you said what you came to.”

Stiles stared after him. Derek grabbed his bag and started unpacking, acting like Stiles was already gone. The man wouldn’t look back at him. Stiles blinked, turning toward the loft door, but then he stopped, turning back around. Frustration and anger crashed over him.

“You know what? No, Derek, you don’t get to do that!” Derek looked up at him, startled, and Stiles stalked forward again. “You don’t get to push me away, not again! Now, I’m sick and tired of thinking about you and wondering if I’m being an idiot caring about you—”

“Caring about me?”

“— Don’t interrupt, Derek, I’m ranting here! It’s been three years since I got my head out of my ass and considered the possibility of having feelings for you, but that’s kind of hard when your always angsting and disappearing off the face of the earth—”

Stiles was cut off again, but this time because Derek’s lips were pressed against his.

He gasped in shock and went still, and Derek started to pull back with the word ‘sorry’ already falling off his lips. But then Stiles was wrapping his hands around Derek’s neck and pulling him back in. He kissed the man back, hard and hungry.

Derek pressed back with equal ferocity. It was a battle of teeth and tongues, and Stiles had no idea why they hadn’t started doing this sooner. He stumbled back until he hit the wall and then Derek picked him up so Stiles could wrap his legs around his waist. He did so, nipping down the man’s neck before shoving his lips against his again. Derek growled deep in his throat. Stiles felt the sound go straight to his groin.

“Der—” Stiles gasped between breaths. “Derek, we should—”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, pressing a hard kiss against his lips again. Stiles closed his eyes with a moan and a shudder ran through the older man’s body. Stiles couldn’t help but smirk as he moaned again, thrusting his hips forward this time. Derek’s grip tightened. “Stiles.”

“Derek,” Stiles responded raspily. He closed his eyes as stubble traced down his neck and Derek’s lips breezed over skin, trailing down to his collarbone. The man latched on and sucked a mark there, making Stiles moan again. He could feel the way Derek reacted to that, hands clenching tighter around his hips. Derek pulled back again and before Stiles could whine about the lack of contact, Derek’s lips were ghosting across his again.

“Derek,” Stiles murmured.

Derek finally pulled back then, breaking them apart. His eyes were hazy. Stiles smiled back at him, feeling like he’d just been dunked underwater. His lips felt warm and puffy.

“So… you’re back.”

Derek blinked a few times. “Didn’t we just establish that?”

“I’d have you stay,” Stiles whispered. “If you want.”

“Of course,” Derek said. “I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Stiles smiled again. “Because now that I’m broken, I’m bought, and you’re stuck with me.”

“I broke you?” Derek said incredulously. Stiles grinned.

“Well, not yet. But that can always be arranged.”

Derek’s eyes darkened and he growled, hitching Stiles up higher on his hips. Turning, he carried him to the bed and dumped him down unceremoniously, making Stiles squawk in protest. But instead of kissing him again or doing anything else, Derek righted him up and pulled the covers aside, before stuffing Stiles in. Then he pulled the covers back up. Stiles stared.

“Derek, what the hell are you doing?”

“It’s two in the morning, Stiles. You reek of exhaustion.”

“But Derek,” Stiles whined, trying to thrust his hips back up. “I was promised a good and proper breaking!”

Derek smirked down at him. “You look pretty broken to me.”

“Okay, now that’s just rude. You can’t leave me like this!”

Derek sat down on edge of the bed and carded his fingers through Stiles’s hair, face softening. Stiles relaxed unconsciously into the touch and nuzzled Derek’s giant hand, making the man chuckle. Stiles stiffened and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Derek asked innocently, drawing his hand away. “That?”

“No, you asshole,” Stiles whined. “Laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” Derek said, leaning over to press his lips against Stiles’s once more. Then he pulled back an inch, so his breaths were hot on Stiles’s face when he whispered, “I was chuckling.”

“Asshole,” Stiles shoved him away. Derek laughed openly this time.

Stiles didn’t want to admit it, but he was tired. He’d been tired even before all of whatever this was. Oh god, whatever this was. Stiles would have a panic attack about that in the morning. He was too tired to think straight right now.

Ha, he thought. Think straight.

Stiles thought about mentioning his genius to Derek, but the man’s fingers were in his hair again. Stiles closed his eyes automatically against the touch and he sighed, relaxing back into the pillows. He could still taste Derek on his lips; like cinnamon. It was nice, he decided sleepily.

“Derek,” he said softly. The man’s ministrations paused. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Stiles.”

“No really,” Stiles repeated, already half asleep. “Don’t leave me again.”

He felt Derek lean forward, lips touching his forehead. Gentle fingers pulled the blankets all the way up to Stiles’s neck. “I promise.”

“Good,” Stiles murmured. “Now sing me to sleep, bastard.”

Derek chuckled against his skin. The vibration sent a shiver down his spine, somehow making his body relax even more. Carefully, Derek pulled back, though his fingers traced down Stiles’s arm and sketched circles over the back of his hand. Stiles could feel himself dropping.

The last thing he heard sounded suspiciously like humming.

#sterek #idiots in love #ao3 #when-she-writes-stuff talks #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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embeanwrites · 4 years

Text

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 5

First chapter, previous chapter

Thursday went by slowly. Neither Nines nor Gavin came to my office during lunch that day. Which after Wednesday’s fiasco, that made sense. I woke up Friday morning once again feeling nervous. My dad and Connor were coming to my office to help me rearrange the furniture. I also had a box in the corner of my room of decorations I wanted for my office. It was 10 am, my dad was probably awake, right? I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contact list till I found his name, clicking his name and I waited for him to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey dad, it’s (Y/n). I was wondering if you guys could pick me up before heading to the university. I have some decorations I want to bring to my office.”

“Yeah, sure. We can pick you up in like half an hour? Connor’s taking Sumo for a walk right now.” He said with a chuckle.

“That works, Connor knows my apartment building, so just send me a message when you guys get here!” We both said bye and hung up.

I moved the box closer to the front door and lounged on the couch, pulling out my phone to pass the time. I thought about looking Gavin up on social media, but that felt like a huge overstep of boundaries. Plus, I don’t even like him, it doesn’t matter to me whether or not he comes to my office anyway. While debating what I wanted to do Connor sent me a message saying they were here. I quickly put my phone in my pocket, grabbed my box, and headed downstairs.

Walking up to my dad’s car I saw Connor had already moved to the back seat. I got into the passenger seat and turned around to look at him.

“Connor, you don’t always have to sit in the back.” Connor was wearing a plain gray t-shirt and jeans. It was strange seeing him in casual clothes. My dad was in an ugly Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. I wrinkled my nose at his outfit. “What are you wearing?”

“Are you kidding? This is a great outfit.” My dad said defensively.

“I mean, it’s a great outfit if you want to get mistaken for an off-brand Jimmy Buffett.” I said with a laugh, my dad just shook his head and started driving towards the university.

“What all do you have in the box?” Connor asked.

“Some photos, gifts from friends before I left, and a few random knick knacks. Just things to make my office feel more like me.”

“God, I remember your room when you were a kid, you hung on to everything. Movie tickets, napkins with drawings on it, anything you could save you would, and you would tack it up on your wall.” My dad said with a laugh.

“That followed me until I started college and got sick of taking them down every 8 months.” I looked down in my box. I realized quickly I had a picture of me and mom in a frame for my desk, but not one of me and my dad. Should I hide it? Should I act surprised when I notice it?

“(Y/n), I’ve noticed that your heart rhythm has sped up in the past 20 seconds. Are you okay?” Connor spoke from the back seat, my dad quickly glanced over to me and back towards the street.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking about some of my stuff. I think I lost a couple of things in the move.” I quickly shook my head and glanced at Connor through the rearview mirror. His LED flickered yellow. He could probably tell I was lying, but I just hoped he wouldn’t say anything about it.

“Well, I’m sure they’ll turn up.” My dad said as he pulled into a parking spot. I quickly got out with my box before they could ask any more questions.

“My office is on the second floor of this building. Do you guys want to take the elevator?” I asked as Connor walked ahead to get the building door.

“What do you think because I’m old I can’t take a couple flights of stairs?” My dad scoffed and I laughed.

“I’m just making sure, old man!” I said, I looked at Connor and gave him a mischievous smile. “Hey Connor?”

“Yes (Y/n)?” He tilted his head.

“I’ll race ya!” I shouted as I started taking the stairs two at a time. It took him no time to catch up and pass me, but I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the serious look on his face.

“God dammit you two!” My dad shouted at us as we ran up the stairs, causing me to laugh more.

When I reached the second floor, I quickly put my arm on Connor’s shoulder and pretended to be blowing on my nails. In the corner of my eye I saw his LED flash yellow, but he didn’t say anything. My dad panted as he reached the top of the stairs, he glared at both of us and I couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Screw you two.” My dad huffed, he leaned over to look behind us and he suddenly had a confused look on his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I whipped around and saw Gavin standing outside my office.

“Oh, is Nines here too? I forgot to send him a message that I would be too busy to discuss sociology today.” I walked towards him, but he kept his eyes on my dad and Connor.

“Ah no, he’s running interrogations right now with Chris, they didn’t need me, so I wanted to come talk to you about the other day.”

“We’re rearranging and decorating (Y/n)’s office, do you want to help?” Connor asked quickly.

“I don’t really have a lot of time...” Gavin rubbed the back of his neck.

“Um…here! Let me give you my card and you can text me and we can find a time to talk if you want.” I reached into my wallet and handed him my card.

“Okay, yeah that’s fine. I’m sorry to put a wrench in your guys’ plan.” Gavin quickly waved and walked off in the opposite direction.

“That was weird.” My dad said. I shrugged my shoulders, honestly not knowing how to respond to what just happened. I balanced my box on my hip and unlocked my office. “So, what do you want moved?”

“Well, I was hoping to have my desk facing the side wall instead of towards the door and the chairs placed across. The couch can go against the wall by the door.” I sat the box down on the floor.

“Alright, Connor help me move the desk, (Y/n) get the chairs out of the way.” The three of us got to work, it honestly didn’t take very long, and I began unpacking my box on my desk. “Are those real books?” My dad asked taking one off of the shelves.

“Yeah, that one’s my book actually.” He flipped around and looked at me.

“Really?” Connor walked over to my dad to look at the book.

“Yeah, I had to publish my articles in order to get my PhD. It’s really a collection of my theories, not like an actual book. It’s not for sale anywhere. At least not yet.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Could I borrow it?” My dad asked me softly, his face was stoic as he looked at me. I quickly nodded.

“Yeah I have copies of all of the articles on my computer.” I looked away and started unpacking. I had a dumb little bobble head of the Iron Giant that one of my students gave me after I made them watch that movie as homework when I was a graduate assistant. I sat it by my computer, wondering if there was room in my syllabus to do that assignment again. I pulled out a couple pictures of friends from school and one of me with my first class. I looked at the one of me and mom. I took a deep breath and sat it down with the others. I spared a glance upwards; my dad was looking through my book and Connor was staring at me.

“Is that your mother?” My dad’s head shot up and looked over.

“Yes.” I said softly. They both walked closer to me to look at the picture. I felt my eyes start to pool with tears and I shook my head, trying to clear the bad feeling away, but when I opened my mouth to answer the words got stuck in my throat. I felt the tears start running down my cheeks.

“Have you talked to her since you got here?” My dad asked softly. He really didn’t know. I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t.

“Excuse me.” I rasped and pushed past them out of my office.

I think my dad tried to go after me, but Connor must have held him back. I exited the building and sat against one of the brick walls. I tried to calm my breathing, inhaling in big gulps of fresh air, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I wiped my eyes so I could read the notification without tears blurring my vision. There was an email from the university talking about the new semester, but underneath a text from an unsaved number.

this is gavin

He sent that five minutes ago. What are the odds he’s still here? I bit my lip and tried to keep my hands from shaking.

Are you still nearby?

yeah why

Where?

im in the parking lot. i can see u crying

I quickly looked up. I scanned the cars for a moment, but I saw a gray Jeep with someone waving. I stood up and looked back at the door. Neither Connor nor my dad had come to find me. I walked over to his car and opened the passenger door and climbed in. I glanced over at him; he was staring at me. I quickly wiped my tears. Gavin cleared his throat.

“You okay?” I couldn’t look at him, I was so embarrassed.

“Yes…no…I don’t know.” I put my hands over my face as I choked back a sob.

“Connor said you like cats, right?” I turned my head and looked at him. He was staring at me with pity which just made me feel worse. I couldn’t even bring myself to respond so I just nodded. “Do you want to come meet my cats?”

“Okay.” I said softly. Gavin nodded and started his car.

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #detroit become human #hank anderson #dbh #connor is like a son to hank #connor rk800 #dbh nines #x reader #fan fiction #gavin reed has three cats

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nev3rfound · 5 years

Text

one day : p.p

brief summary: based on one day by tate.mcrae, you and peter silently long for one another, waiting for the day one of you has the courage to speak up

word count: 1.6k requested: nope, I listened to this song for the first time earlier and fell in love with the lyrics and thought of fluff w peter warnings: none, just fluff

* masterlistin’

* commissions

“Two words, Peter.” Ned reminds Peter, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Peter sighs, returning his attention to his friend who merely rolls his eyes. “What?” Peter questions, raising an eyebrow to Ned.

“All you gotta say are two simple words. Hi Y/n. See? Two words, not so hard.” Ned tells him, even though he knows it’s not fully going in or will ever be used.

Looking up again, Peter glances across the crowded halls to see you stood to the side. You’re chatting away with your friends, a smile creeping across your face until you feel someone's eyes lingering on you. Peter watches your smile drop, the fear rising as you cover the side of your face with your hair, letting it hang instead of tucking it back.

He sighs softly. “It’s harder than you think Ned.” Peter comments as he pulls his books out from his bag, walking toward their next class, passing you by.

Peter smiles to you softly, once again not receiving one back. “Algebra, Ned.” Peter answers his friend's question.

Immediately you can feel butterflies swarming inside of you upon hearing his voice. The nervous stutter he has whenever you’re around rather than keeping a steady smooth tone you often hear him share in class.

“Come on, Y/n,” Your friend nudges your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts that are often clouded by fear, ruining the blissful images that replay in your mind. “we can’t be late again.”

Pulling on your hand, you laugh as she drags you into the classroom.

Your smile remains bright as you look down at the floor, not seeing Peters face light up at the sight. “Wow.” He mutters under his breath, causing Ned to nudge MJ.

“He spoken to her yet?” MJ questions once again to Ned who shakes his head. “At this rate, I’ll talk to her.” She chuckles, and your teacher walks in as you take a seat toward the back of the classroom, only seeing the back of Peter’s head.

As your teacher talks to the class, your friend passes you her phone. You raise an eyebrow, glancing up to check no one was looking. “What?” You whisper as you accept her phone, seeing another article about SpiderMan having been published. “Another sighting? He’s getting adventurous.” You giggle, and Peter can feel his ears burning.

Zoning out from his teacher, Peter focuses on your conversation at the back of the classroom. “Imagine meeting him.” Your friend sighs happily and you roll your eyes.

“He’d probably sweep you up into his arms, hold you close and maybe he’d be clumsy and nearly drop you.” You joke, and Peter silently scoffs. He’s not dropped anyone. Well, he dropped Mrs Higgins cat, but Timothy was just fine.

Peter wishes he could turn around, tell you everything you wanted to know. But he loved hearing your rambles, the strange conversations he wished were directed to him. “Parker, mind joining us in the room?” Your teacher calls Peter out, and you shrink into your chair as Peter shuffles in his.

“Sorry,” He mutters, clearing his throat.

Part of him is urging to turn around, smile at you. But the small slither of common sense knows it would be a bad idea, it would make you uncomfortable. Instead, he kept his head down, hearing your conversation die down and you simply went back to occupying his thoughts.

“Come on, Pete. Give me something.” Tony sighs as Peter holds his head in his hands.

Tony glances over to Pepper who motions for him to get a move on as she shuts the door, locking them outside. “I just don’t get it, Mr Stark.” Peter huffs loudly, hearing Tony hesitantly stepping closer before sitting beside him on the steps.

“This girl, she special?” Tony questions and Peter scoffs as if it were the most ridiculous question to ever be asked. “Okay, let me rephrase that.” Tony shuffles on the spot before composing himself once more. “When you wake up, is she on your mind?”

Peter nods instantly. “If I have one hundred thoughts, she’s about ninety-nine of them Mr Stark.” Peter speaks confidently, his nerves surrounding you in conversation die down as he knows it’s only Tony hearing his aloud. “She’s just, she’s different. She’s got this beautiful smile and her eyes, Mr Stark I wish she would just look at me and smile with those eyes.” Peter sighs softly, and Tony turns his head to see Pepper watching with a gentle smile.

“How you goin’ to talk to her then, Pete? If she is on your mind all the time, you gotta talk to the girl.” Tony tells Peter with a slight nudge. “Words mean a lot to women. More than a glance.”

“Okay, Mr Stark.” Peter responds. “I, I think I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Rising to his feet, Peter takes out his mask, slipping it on before walking off. “I’ll see you tomorrow night Mr Stark!” Peter yells before jumping up and starts swinging through street lamps, nearing the city.

Tony lowers his head, running his hand over his face as a pair of arms wrap around him. “You think it’ll work?” Pepper questions as Tony turns around, holding her close.

“Did with you.” He reminds her as he leans closer, kissing her softly.

Wrapping your books tightly in your arms you walk down the dimly lit streets from your friend's house. You didn’t anticipate staying so late, as always time ran away from you both. It wouldn’t be a problem, but your usual route was cut off due to road works meaning the less favourable route is your only choice.

Sighing, you kept your head down, ignoring the wolf whistles and derogatory names. “Hey, babe, I’m talkin’ to you!” One yell becomes closer as you hear footsteps following you.

“Go away.” You weakly respond, knowing you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“I don’t think so babe.” His voice is too close, you can feel your feet picking up in speed and you don’t dare glance back.

The footsteps behind you increase until they stop. “I don’t think you heard her correctly, she said go away which usually means she doesn’t want your attention.” A voice interrupts and you pause, turning around to see the red and blue suit.

“Holy shit.” You mutter under your breath as your feet feel like their cemented into the pavement.

You watch as the man squares up in front of Spiderman, looking him up and down. “And what’re you gonna do latex boy?” He questions, a series of laughs sounding in the distance.

“Firstly, it’s Spiderman and for that,” He whips a web over the mans mouth and you blurt out a single laugh before covering your mouth. “and this,” He kicks him in the groin, watching as he falls to the ground with a muffled groan. “for not respecting women.”

Peter sighs under his mask before he turns around. “Hey are you alri-” He pauses, seeing it’s you.

“I, I’m doing alright. Thank you.” You tell him, speaking in confidence before him.

His eyes lock with yours, finally seeing them up close, hearing you talking directly to him. But then he remembers he’s wearing a mask, you’re not talking to Peter Parker, you’re talking to Spiderman.

“Good, I, do you want me to help you get anywhere?” He asks and he watches as the corners of your lips rise to a smile.

“You won’t drop me, will you?” You joke, and beneath the mask, Peter is beaming.

He shakes his head. “If I did, I’d never forgive myself for letting you go.” The words roll off of his tongue before he can process what he’s said.

Yet, you don’t answer. Instead, you step forward before putting all your books in your bag and wrapping your arms around his neck. Peter watches you shut your eyes tightly, your grip comforting around him as he lets out a shallow breath before shooting a web.

You can feel the breeze in your hair, the weightlessness in his arms. “Open your eyes.” He tells you and you abide.

Looking around, you let out a light laugh. The exhilaration of being above everyone, passing windows in a blur. No one will believe you at school, not in a thousand years.

As Peter approaches your house, exactly where you directed him he lands outside. “You can erm, let go now.” He tells you softly, not wanting the moment to end.

Glancing up, you laugh awkwardly before letting go. “Thank you, Spiderman.” You smile up, looking through his eye patches, wishing you could see the eyes of the man who helped you. “And thank you for all you do for everyone. You’ve really helped a lot of people.” You tell him, beaming with pride. “Have a good evening.” You wave to him before walking into your house, your heartbeat is still manic as butterflies swarm together.

“You did WHAT?” Ned whisper yells to Peter as he stands beside his locker, shock evident on his face as Peter smiles to himself.

“Yeah,” Peter says breathlessly, glancing over to see you’re still not by your locker. “she was, she was wonderful up close.”

“You going to talk to her now?” Ned questions, watching as Peter finally nods and means it.

“If she’s ever in, I will.” Peter tells his friend before closing his locker door, turning to see you walking toward him.

Swallowing the last of your fear, you walk up towards Peter after all this time. You smile up to him, watching as the roles are reversed. Two words, all you have to say, Y/n. “Hi Peter,”

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