#i cleaned him up a little bit but i like the quick doodle nature of his lines so there was very little i had to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

proserpina-magnus · 3 years

Note

Hiiiiii could I request a Marauders x reader… platonic. Where they are just coaxing her through a bad day/migraine?

Hii! there isn't that much comforting other then them being clingy and sorta protective, but I still hope you like!!

The Marauders When You Have A Migraine

Word count; 1.8k

[ Warning: fem reader, doodles, eating, migraines/description of headaches, swearing, Sirius refers to you as “their baby” ]

Quick note, there’s a scene where the boys draw on the reader with a marker. I didn’t specify what colour the marker was, so depending on your skin colour you can interrupt the colour as you wish.

You slumped at the Gryffindor dining table, hair matted in a low messy hairstyle. You didn't even try and brush it out, you woke up and left it how it was. You couldn't even bring yourself to dress in new fresh clothing, you wore what you slept in.

Eyeing the breakfast options, you felt a pain tingle through your head. The nerves bunching and squeezing together to make it unbearable to concentrate.

" [ name ]! We have class in 15 minutes and you're not even dressed!" James bellowed from across the table, you pushed your shoes against the floor and slumped. Remus gave a confused look, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between Peter and Sirius.

"Come on, we have time to get some food in 'ya," Sirius declared, pushing toast onto your plate. The curly raven haired male even buttered your toast just the way you liked, even filling your glass with fresh squeezed orange juice.

"How 'ya feel-in?" Peter pronounced through mouthfuls of food, James swatting the blonds head in retaliation. "Wormy, don't speak with your mouth full,"

Sirius cackled from beside you, Peter stomped his foot onto Sirius in response. Sirius made a dramatic scene, falling towards the cold stone floor as he held his foot with forced shaky breaths. "My foot! My foot! I've been assaulted!" He whined, rolling from side to side.

Remus lets out a loud sigh from beside you, your head buzzing from the noise of ongoing chatter. You could hear James laugh loudly, like he always does. Usually his laugh was contagious, but it was incredibly annoying at the moment. Along with snickers and loud whines, you gripped your cup and brought it to your lips. Peter swallowed, reaching for another pancake as he watched you take long sips.

" ya never answered my question," Peter rambled before taking a gracious bite. You shrugged, Sirius sliding back into his seat. The boys all looked towards you, your fork picking at the blueberries Sirius pushed onto your plate moments prior.

"Another headache?" James asked, cleaning his pants from crumbs as he pushed his finished plate aside. You nodded briefly, a plain expression adorned on your features. Another hot buzz dangled in your mind, your forehead throbbing along with it.

"Maybe we should take you to madam Pomfry, you shouldn't be getting them this often," Remus responded. Sirius made a pouting face, before he took you into his arms.

"Our baby is hurt!" Sirius exaggerated loudly, causing staring eyes to look towards the group of friends. You flushed a bit, embarrassed by Sirius nature. You pushed him away, going back to picking at your food.

"I ain't nobody's baby," you said while pushing Sirius further away, James and Peter sniggered as Sirius made puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes, a bit grumpy from the constant throbbing.

"Bloody hell, it fucking hurts. It's not even bad, it's just the constant throbbing is pissing me off," you complained, shoving the piece of toast in your mouth. You watched as students finished eating, occasionally leaving for their first class of the day.

The boys all exchanged looks, Remus placing a hand on your back to give it a gentle rub. You push your plate back, your arms coming on the table as you rest in them.

As more students leave, professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to your rambunctious group. She softens at the scene, seeing the four boys rub your shoulder or arms to try and give their sympathy.

You sigh as you hear her shoes click with the ground, professor Mcgonagall stands a few inches away from you all. She clears her throat, all eyes directing towards her except for you.

"Class is about to start... is there a problem with miss [ last name ]?" The older woman asked, trying to mask her worry. Remus had explained earlier to her that you had been having numerous migraines.

"She's having another headache Minnie, our baby is dying!" Sirius exclaimed, Remus reaching over to swat him away from you with an annoyed look plastered on his face. Even though you couldn't see Sirius, you laughed as you thought about his whining face.

Professor Mcgonagall clasped her tongue, about to tell off Sirius for the nickname he'd given her. But instead, she placed her attention on you.

"I'll take her to the infirmary, surely madam Pomfrey has a potion to help," she explained, the boys all standing together in the same motion. You still kept your head pressed into your forehead.

"Can we go with her?" James whispered, hoping that they could be with you. They all hated when you were in pain, it felt like they had to protect you. You were their bestfriend, they surely couldn't let a thing ever bug you unless it was them.

"I'm sorry Potter, but you have class," Professor McGonagall frowned, the boys were about to protest to stay with you. But Minnie quickly shut them down, her hand raising as all the boys shut their jaws closed.

"It's alright, I'll see you later," you told them, raising with a throb as you walked with them all towards the doors. You parted way painfully, Sirius almost crying as he clung onto your leg. The rest of the boys watched, even James tearing up. He took his round spectacles off, dabbing his eyes with a spare cloth he had in his pocket.

"You can't be serious," you retorted at them, an annoyed look on your face as Minnie checked her watch with frowned eyes.

"Well... technically," Sirius began, but he couldn't finish his sentence as you kicked him off of you. You were upset, tired, and in pain. As much as you loved them, they were too much sometimes.

"Just go, I'll see you later," you tried to cover up your annoyed state, but the boys picked up on it. Sirius straightened up, fixing his shirt as they left with their heads down casted towards the ground.

"Idiots they are," you told Professor McGonagall, she only laughed and led you towards the infirmary.

—-

After a few missed classes, it was finally lunch. All the boys scrambled to the dining hall, shoving foods on plates. They ignored the stares, jogging up to the infirmary where you slept.

With the creak of the door, Sirius and James peaked inside. They saw no one, only a lump on the farthest bed. They all skipped over to you with slow whispers, trying to make sure you won’t wake up. Sirius pushed the blanket of your face, all of them relieved to see you still asleep.

“Prongs, do you have a spare marker on you?” Sirius asked, a growing smirk on his face. James put down the plate on a nearby table, fishing through his pockets to try and find a marker.

“Pads, no,” Remus said sternly, knowing what the raven haired male would do. Peter looked between the three boys, a bit unsure of what Sirius was going to do. The blonde boy put his plate near James, picking up half a sandwich as he sat near your feet.

“Pads yes,” Sirius smiled widely, James passing him the thick inked marker. Remus rolled his eyes, not stopping Sirius from his antics. Sirius crawled on the bed, an evil smile on his features as he unclasped the marker. He wrote “baby” with big thick letters on your forehead, giggling when you twitched and tried to swat his hand away in your sleeping state.

“Give me the marker,” James whispers, not waiting for Sirius to pass him it as he snatched it for himself. The bispecticle male drew 4 happy stick figures and a rat on your cheek, his tongue poked out in concentration.

“Why am I the only one in my amingi form?” Peter asked, frowning as James passed him the marker. He began to draw a small smiley face in your open palm, writing a messy “Peter was here” on your arm.

“Because, there wasn’t enough room and plus, you’re cuter in rat form,” James teased, but his words sounded very sweet so Peter took it as a compliment. Sirius and Remus cackled loudly, making you stir awake. Your eyes fluttered open, looking around between the boys above you.

“Uh… hello?” You greeted, stretching slightly as you looked around the empty room. Sirius pushed Peter and James away from the bed, sprawling his limbs out to hog you from their affection.

“Hi!” They all chanted at once, Remus moving closer as he pushed at Sirius to make room. The tall male sat down, rummaging through his bag for a minute before pulling out a chocolate bar.

“Eat,” Remus said, even opening the wrapper for you. He broke off a piece, swatting Sirius's wandering hand when he tried to take a piece for himself. You sat up on the bed, unaware of the markings on your skin. You chewed the gooey chocolate, resting against the bed frame with a satisfied hum.

“Did you bring me food?” You asked, a smile on your face as you realized all the plates. The boys nodded, bringing the plates over for you all to feast upon.

“What’s so funny?” You asked when Sirius started to laugh, James also chuckling. You irked slightly, touching over your face to try and see if there were crumbs. This made the boys laugh harder, making you feel embarrassed as you choke out a “what? Is there something on my face?”

You notice the little doodle Peter left you, realizing what had happened. You pushed Sirius's head, making him bump into James. You laughed at the scene, both boys rubbing their forehead with a pouty face.

“Does it come off?” You asked Remus, a sigh on your lips as you ran off towards the bathroom.

“Nope,” he called out, a small smile on his face. You looked in the mirror, seeing the obvious doodles drawn by your boys. You knew exactly who the culprit was for the big letters written on your forehead.

“Sirius! What the hell is this?” You called, stomping back to the bed where they all sat. Sirius raises his hands, pointing to James and Peter. “It’s not just me! They did it as well!”

“You bitch,” James gasped, a hand on his heart as he held a dramatic glint in his eyes. Peter dropped his head, muttering his apologies. All the boys start to bicker at Sirius, calling him a tattletale. You smile and lean back against the bed, bringing a biscuit to your mouth as you watch the quarrel unfold, this was definitely the entertainment you needed on this shitty day.

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junicai · 3 years

Text

Aria at Award Shows

Iconic Outfits

2020 AAAs NCT Daesang Award

Peoples’ jaws dropped when they saw Aria sidle up alongside the other 23 boys, strolling out like she owned the building. The heels gave her enough height to be nearly level with Renjun - something she wouldn’t let the boy forget - her hair dyed back to a natural black like it had been during NCT2020 promotions. It was rare that Aria didn’t look slightly apprehensive about stepping out onto a red carpet, but the confidence was rolling off her in waves. As she walked, the slit in the dress seemed to keep on going, trailing up her leg and changing the otherwise classy dress into something that left the innocent bystanders in the first row suffering from a high chance of a heart attack.

tldr; Aria’s hot and people are Noticing.

2019 Show Champion NCT 127 ‘Superhuman’

NCT’s second win with Superhuman left a huge divide in nctzens; a rift between those who were ot21 stans and ot22 stans (sans and plus Aria). Up until then, there had been rumors around whether Aria was to leave NCT now that there was a new girl group supposedly debuting under SM. Their management team had refrained from publishing a response - but that only lead fans to create their own speculations and theories. This outfit played perfectly into the growing rumor; with the large circular pendant on Aria’s bracelet having two chrysanthemums etched into the gold. The flower symbolized happy endings and goodbyes, with nctzens taking this as the proof that Aria was truly set to leave NCT in the coming months.

tldr; nctzens need to learn how to Chill.

2017 M! Countdown NCT 127 ‘Cherry Bomb’

Unfortunately, this era was the cause of a lot of strife for Arizens; the stylists either hit it out of the park and Aria was drop dead stunning - or she ended up looking a little like a bratz doll a toddler had gotten their hands on. Unfortunately for Aria, their first win with ‘Cherry Bomb’ left pictures of her in a plastic, obviously dyed blue skirt and cherry pink hair to match immortalized on the internet forever.

tldr; arizens hoped that her stylist got fired after this era. the plastic skirt wasn't the worst thing they'd done.

Other Iconic Outfits

Seating Arrangements

Depending on the venue, idols are normally sat on straight rows of chairs and benches, or at round tables. Given the choice, Aria would always prefer to sit at one of the tables, as not only does it give her a chance to not have to worry about her legs being seen while being covered by the tablecloth - if there is one - but it lets her keep everyone sitting near her in her direct line of vision.

However, should she have to sit in one of the main rows, she’ll normally end up squished beside one of three boys - Donghyuck, Yuta and/or Renjun. Should one of those three be unaviliable, Doyoung and Jeno are usually quick enough to fill in the empty space.

Donghyuck would always be her first choice, was it not for the boy’s incessant energy that sometimes left her nerves fried before their performance. Most days she adored the company - adored him and his efforts to get her mind off their impending songs with various games and ways to pass the time (they're not allowed play footsie anymore though, because Aria stomped on his foot with her heel once) - but other days she just needed someone to hold her hand and say nothing. That’s where Yuta and Renjun come in.

As Aria’s found out over the years, for all the man’s tactile affection and loud displays of love, Yuta’s highly perceptive to when she needs some silent comfort. Now, she’s not sure if he’s that perceptive to everyone or just her - but either way she’s not complaining.

With Dream, Renjun is the one she’ll sit with and doodle on the white napkins that are laid out on the table for lord knows what reason. After being bored out of their minds for their first few award shows, Renjun had snuck two black ballpoint pens into the venue in the inside of his red suit jacket. The drawings had become somewhat a tradition, and the best doodle normally is uploaded to bubble shortly after the show has ended.

All in all, Aria’s normally quite content to sit in the centre of the large group of boys - split over several rows or tables, boisterous and bubbly with energy. The only real downside to it all is the lack of blankets available to protect her modesty once she is seated.

Most venues split the idols fairly evenly between the boy and girl groups - with blankets being allocated especially for the seating of girl groups. This meant, unfortunately, that when NCT files into their seats and sits down, there is rarely something in the close vicinity that Aria can borrow quickly without causing a fuss.

Sometimes she gets lucky - other female idols might spot her and are normally kind enough to hand over one of their cushions or blankets, content to share with their neighboring member. Occasionally though, Aria has no such luck and is left to either pull down her dress multiple times per minute to cover the prickly feeling over the tops of her legs when she felt like eyes were boring into her, or wait for some kind of break so she could go find a spare covering.

Aria supposed after the third time something like that had happened, her members were getting fed up with it all.

At first it was their plan B: should some type of cover-up not be available in their immediate vicinity, Johnny or Lucas or Jaehyun - once, even Dejun - or another member who ran hot near-constantly would shrug off their jacket and fold it over Aria’s legs, pulling it up and then lifting her hands to place them in her lap to hold their jacket there.

Eventually it became their plan A however, now commonplace for Aria to go looking for the member who was wearing multiple layers and who wouldn’t suffer from the loss of their outermost one.

Iconic Moments

Twitter: [180821] and people rly say nct doesn’t care abt aria :/

Red carpets were always something to dread, in Aria’s eyes.

The cameras flashing bright enough to blind you, and the knowledge that if she stumbled or - god forbid - fell it would be immortalized forever on Koreaboo’s newest blog post.

However the worst bit, was always the footwear. High, stiletto heels that left her teetering around on nothing more than her tippy-toes, precariously balanced as she made her way up and down stairs, over carpet and tiled flooring alike.

Aria was used to wearing heels, but the one’s she performed in were usually fitted with various types of ankle support and a thick heel to give her balance. Wobbling around on a heel the same width of a piece of uncooked spaghetti was not something she’d willingly choose.

Not to mention the blisters.

Designer shoes were gifted to the company on a regular basis - shipped over just in time for Aria to slip into the pair before stepping out of the van into the sea of bright flashes and reporters. It always seemed like designers were too pre-occupied with making a shoe look good rather than making them actually wearable.

The first time Aria had been gifted a set of heels - early 2018 - she made the mistake of assuming that they would be in similar comfort as her performance heels.

Two hours later and with a wad of bloody tissue stuffed into the back of them, Aria had learnt her lesson.

From then on, it was commonplace for Aria to bandage her heels before she went out to shows - not quite as heavily as she normally would for a performance, but just enough to stop the skin splitting under the constant abrasion.

She’d only been caught out badly once - but it was all caught on camera by a fan sitting close by, and spread over twitter like wildfire.

Aria had limped her way back over to where NCT 127 was sitting, lips pressed together in a tight line and hands clenched in the tight material of the leather trousers she had been given to wear. The trousers stopped a few inches above her ankles, so the red mess of her heels was clearly visible as she hobbled over and sat down with a thud onto the seat.

Donghyuck placed a hand on Aria’s shoulder, leaning in so that he could see her face behind the curtain of hair that she had let fall to hide her tear-filled eyes from him.

“Riri?” Donghyuck whispered to her, thumb beginning to rub soothing circles into her arm. “Hey, Riri? What’s going on?”

Aria only shook her head, gesturing to the pair of torturous heels on her feet.

Donghyuck inhaled sharply when he saw the blood trailing up her leg and soaking into the back of the heel. He turned to his side to elbow Doyoung, grabbing his attention.

“Hyung. Hyung.” He hissed, Doyoung turning around with an over-exaggerated sigh.

“No, Hyuck, I told you I’m not going to-” Doyoung cut himself off upon seeing Aria’s pain-filled face. “Aria? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Donghyuck slid off his seat onto the ground despite Aria’s protests that the floor wasn’t clean, get up, and explained what had happened to his hyung. Sliding her heel off as slowly as he could to not pull at the skin more, he muttered apologizes to Aria as she inhaled a shaky breath before exhaling it on a small, wet cry.

“Hyung, did you bring anything for Taeyong-hyung’s shoulder that we could use?”

“Yeah, yeah I did give me two seconds.” Doyoung bent into the small bag that he had tucked underneath the seat, pulling out a length of bandage that was stowed away in the outermost pocket.

Donghyuck took it from Doyoung’s hands with a small ‘thank you’, moving to kneel back down in front of Aria and taking her ankle back into his lap.

“Hyuck, no I got it, c’mon the ground isn’t clean-”

He silenced her with a look. Aria settled back into her chair - defeated - and Donghyuck wrapped the bandage around her heel as quickly but as painlessly as he could manage.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Twitter: [190323] HSHS ARIA IS A CARAT WE’VE WON LADIES N GENTS

Maybe Aria should have been paying more attention to the camera that was slowly panning around the idols, projecting their faces up onto a large screen beside the stage, but she was too engrossed in the current group’s performance.

“그렇다고 네 맘이 작다는 게 아냐,” Swaying gently side to side and mouthing along to the lyrics, Aria was happy enough to smile along to the song and move her hands in a small mimickery of the choreography she’d taught herself off the group’s dance practice video she’d watched only a few dozen times.

It wasn’t until Mark poked her in the side that Aria broke out from her own little bubble, twisting her head to look back at him and then up at the screen when he pointed.

There, her face, staring back at her from the big screen was enough to make her mouth drop open a little bit and her eyes widen. She clapped a hand to her mouth before turning to hide her face in Jaehyun’s shoulder, shaking with embarassed laughter.

Aria could hear Taeyong’s teasing laugh in return, before a hand came and ruffled the hair on top of her head, that she swatted away.

--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Twitter: [170911] lmao same aria

Aria knew she was there.

She knew that she was sitting right there and that she was in one of those really skimpy dresses stylists loved to put girls in because apparently female idols don’t deserve modesty and Aria knew that she had a blanket for once and she should share it but oh my god.

It was Chungha.

Aria was going to pass out.

Taking side glances every few seconds only confirmed the fact that Chungha was pulling down her dress to cover as much of her legs as possible, tucking her ankles together and underneath the seat.

Ok.

Ok, she could do this.

Aria took a steeling breath, before shifting on her seat to face Chungha on more of a diagonal. She lifted her hand before lowering it slighly, looking away.

Should she- no ok she’s doing this.

Without giving herself time to talk herself out of it, Aria moved to rest her hand on Chungha’s arm. The older woman jerked slightly - startled - and Aria was quick to apologize.

There was no audio in the video uploaded - the original poster having been too far away to capture much - but the two women talked for a moment before Chungha pointed to the blanket and then herself.

Aria nodded emphatically, and Chungha’s face crumpled into something fond, bowing her head in thanks before they unfolded the blanket another time and Chungha scooted an inch closer to Aria so they’d both fit.

Chungha sent Aria another grateful smile before refocusing on the performances - apparently not noticing, or perhaps choosing not to comment on the rather obvious red tinge that the younger idol’s cheeks had taken on.

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rosesloveletters · 3 years

Text

Simplicity.

pairing: Heath Ledger Joker x Reader

word count: 1,336

warnings: language, violence (mentions of blood) and some sexual themes.

summary: short sentence prompts revolving around reader’s relationship with J.

notes: Hello! I wanted to share something different with you all this time, so I chose a prompt I have not done in a very long time. I used a random word generator to generate 50 words and I would write one or several sentences including and/or inspired by each individual word. If you would like to try out this prompt, visit this link for the random word generator I used. Please enjoy this fun little prompt I fulfilled with J in mind.

unedited.

Quit

“I think I’m starting to get pretty good at this ‘committing heinous crimes and random acts of violence’ thing, aren’t I?” “uh-huh.” You fix him with a look of disbelief, to which J’s only response is, “don’t,ah, quit your day job, toots.”

Anger

The anger you feel doesn’t hold a torch to the rage within J every time that you disobey him.

Distance

The nights when you fall asleep next to J are the ones which make you feel miles apart.

Braid

You tentatively clutch the braided rope in your hands, wondering how long had it been beneath your bed and why J had hidden it there.

Steep

Being in a relationship with J is like trying to climb a mountain that is too steep for you to find any generous footing; if you cling too tightly, the surface gives way and you slide all the way back to rock bottom.

Quota

Guns are too quick, J reflects, but he’s got a quota to hit and so he reloads without another thought on the matter.

Bet

You would’ve bet that J would eventually have to sleep, but never would you have thought it would take this long.

Crystal

“No more blood on my sheets that isn’t mine or yours, J, do I make myself clear?”

“Mm…crystal.”

Hot

Blood oozes from the open cuts which litter your skin like tiny scratch marks and you wince in discomfort; nothing a hot bath, or tongue, can’t fix.

Moving

Imagining a life with J means taking into account the amount of times you’ll have to move to remain one step ahead of the Gotham Police Department.

Biscuit

J trying to stuff several biscuits into his mouth at once inspires you to make a mental note never to bake him any ever again.

Nonsense

You could not make heads or tails of some of the things J tells you and you wonder if perhaps it really isall nonsenseand there’s no ultimate meaning behind any of it at all.

Scene

Most days, you refuse to turn on your television for fear of another crime scene making its way onto your screen; you always know who’s to blame.

Bubble

The color of blood has always been J’s favorite and he has to concentrate not to smile fondly as the warm, sticky liquid bubble’s from his victim’s throat.

Possibility

When you were younger and more naïve, you used to believe in life’s endless possibilities, however, life on the run with Gotham’s most wanted criminal only has one viable outcome.

Basket

You follow the trail of dark red droplets all the way to your bedroom and the sight that meets you is enough to make you drop the basket of clean clothes you were carrying.

Literacy

J often leaves notes behind on the little doodles he scatters throughout your home. The first one you ever kept was written after he begrudgingly watched a nature documentary with you, inspiring him to leave a drawing and a note scrawled across the margins of the morning newspaper: ‘I hate bees’.

Step

To step up against J was to end your own life; even though you are still breathing, today is the day that you have officially died.

Distort

Your relationship with him was about as distorted as J’s grip on reality, but that was what made you love him the most.

Brown

J’s brown eyes contain the only bit of humanity within him.

Light

J’s face is illuminated by the flames, his stark white face paint glowing a pale orange by cause of the dying embers, and the sight makes you wonder what elsehe is keeping from you?

Beat

Should anyone lift a finger against you, J would not hesitate to deliver a beating they might never recover from.

Commitment

Much to your chagrin, the only thing that J is committed to is his work.

Patience

It might take some time for you to warm up to the idea of sharing a house (and a bed) with Gotham’s most notorious criminal, but J knows he can wait you out.

Shower

It’s the first time he’s had a shower in weeks and J’s expression remains indifferent as the water visibly grows darkin color from the grime that rinses off his body.

Preference

It is true that J has no preferences when it comes to who he is sleeping with, but he would be damned if you didn’t check all the boxes he would have had if he’d been anyone else.

Fool

Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that J could muster emotion of any depth in association to you.

Knock

You could have lived with polite knocking, but whenever J returns home it sounds like he’s about to break the door down.

Curl

J’s body encircles you, curling protectively around yours as you embrace each other in the pale lamplight.

Protection

Under J’s protection, you throw caution to the wind and allow him to do what he does best; you would never have daredto walk the streets of Gotham by night, yet now you travelled them carelessly under cover of darkness beneath the ever-watchful eye of your ever-present bodyguard.

Sow

“Ever since you came into my life, I’ve had nothing but bad days!” “Ya…reap what ya sow, huh, doll?”

Key

You gave J a key, but he somehow manages to get inside your house without ever using it.

Film

J doesn’t ever utter the ‘I love you’ words, but without fail does he watch every film you’ve ever picked even if it does not interest him; actions speak louder than words and in this case, you never would have needed him to say a word.

Digital

You really would’ve liked to know why J had such strong opinions about digital clocks.

Short

The first time J snaps at you for coming a bit too close when he’s in a foul mood shows you just how short of a fuse he has.

Second

A second’s glimpse gave you the impression that there is more beneath the surface of J’s hardened exterior.

View

“Quite a plea-sing view, ain’t it, doll?” J asks as you both admire the burning building.

Depression

You never see the side of J that is tender except on the days when it all becomes too much and you physically cannot get out of bed.

Check

Ever since J had come into your life, you have not felt the need to check underneath your bed and inside your closet before climbing into your bed.

Shelf

J intentionally puts everything you need on a high shelf and won’t ever retrieve it for you when you ask.

Switch

A switch to the other side gave you a taste of sweet adrenaline and you finally understood why J loved the chaos.

Trap

Every word you utter becomes another bar in the cage he traps you in and throws away the key; you cannot win an argument with J.

Damn

That damned clown is going to kill you, either out of love born from you’re your own misguided emotional ties to him or with a gun to the head in the middle of the night; you did not care which.

Relinquish

J will never relinquish control even if his life depends on it and, sometimes, it does.

Delete

You wish that removing emotions is as easy as pressing ‘delete’ on your keyboard, but nothing in life is that easy and J is determined to teach you that.

Incentive

Watching you undress in front of him was morethan enough of an incentive to keep J in line for now.

Swallow

“It ain’t polite to play with your food, sweets,” J growls, a smirk of superiority on his face as he watches you finally swallow your mouthful.

Relief

You are unable to express the amount of relief you feel on the night J returns from yet another unexplained period of extended absence.

Front

He puts up a good front, but you are aware of how much it bothers J every time they call him ‘crazy’.

Adventure

Sharing a life with J is a daily adventure and you never know what direction it will lead.

#heath ledger #the dark knight #the dark knight joker #joker #the joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker #joker x reader #heath ledger joker x reader #the dark knight imagine #biblio :: 📖

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aphrodisians · 3 years

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◜ choi yerim , ciswoman , twenty . ◞ ┈ through her all - seeing crystal ball, [ 𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳 ] has her winking eye trained on hestia jones. the ever - enigmatic fifth year is infamous for her righteous ways, but something new seems to be weighing our resident au courant down. a rumor is spreading through these ancient halls like fiendfyre, & even their erudite face can't save them from the flames. she can try to drown out their sorrows to the tune of goddess, but xana can't fix everything ⏤ much less something as grim as [ 𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝙳 ]. but ten points to ravenclaw for trying.

hey besties <3 i’m cc & i’m super excited 2 be here! i’m writing your local hater, hestia jones, who i’ve actually never written before but i’m really excited for her. anywhomstdve, i’d love to plot w all of you & i’m ecstatic for this!

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬.⠀ ⠀

an accidental crack of a book spine that echoes throughout an otherwise silent library, never letting anything pass you by – never letting yourself be unaware, unwelcome surprises that you greet with flushed cheeks and clenched fists, a collection of skirts stolen from a mother that has seemed to have forgotten you, bruises forming next to the scrapes on almost - broken knees, passing tears off as just ‘my eyes are sweating’ & heavy, heavy, bags underneath eyes that just never seem to sleep.

⠀ ﹟𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲

birth name. jeong hyun - ae nickname(s) / alias(es). hestia jones. preferred name. hestia jones, only hyun - ae to family + very close friends age + dob. twenty + dec. 23 hometown. belfast, ireland blood status. half - blood house. ravenclaw activities. fifth year prefect, ravenclaw chaser, chess + duelling label. au courant – aware of what is going on; well informed ethnicity. korean nationality. irish gender. cis woman pronouns. she + her face claim. choi yerim

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝.⠀ ⠀

height. five feet, seven inches / 170cm tattoos. none piercings. earlobes only scars. a two cm line that lays horizontally above her left eyebrow from falling off her broomstick during her third year at hogwarts hair. never dyed, meticulously taken care of but rarely styled. naturally falls straight and is often left down eyes. round and dark, accompanied often by dark bags underneath and an absence of makeup usual expression. stressed. just like, if you look at her you can tell she’s going through it ( and has been for like the past three years ),,, she needs a break but she will not be getting one <3 distinguishing features. cheeks that always seem to be flushed a rosy hue of pink, bags underneath her eyes that are haphazardly covered with fake glasses or makeup, brown - hued hair that just always falls correctly

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀

( + ) positive. erudite, bluestocking, intuitive, heedful ( - ) negative. righteous, hubristic, zealous, moralistic natal chart. triple capricorn, pour one out mbti. istj - a, investigator moral alignment. neutral good godly parent. athena languages spoken. korean + english likes. quiet - the kind of quiet that comes only in the early hours of the morning + in restricted access zones where it’s close to silence ( but not quite ), victory in all forms, feeling appreciated tbh, sleeping but genuinely hasn’t gotten a good night of sleep in years, the color yellow, scarves that are long enough to wrap her entire head <3, being a hater dislikes. attention ( though she is overjoyed / obsessed with winning ), losing - a notoriously sore loser, being out of control in any situation - even if she can have no humanly control over it, nail polish ( because she bites her nails :/ ), actually reading i’ll be honest, staircases quirks. as mentioned above, bites her nails often, doodles when stressed ( which is all the time ) - is halfway decent at it too thanks to all of the practice, can fall asleep in two seconds if given the opportunity, taps her foot a lot hobbies. being a hater, being obnoxious enough to have attention ( aka dramatic ) n then having the audacity to complain about the stress

⠀ ﹟𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫

when he meets your mother, he tells you it’s like the world stopped turning. she was enchanting, he says, like a rose blooming in the dead of winter, a blossom of red among a blanket of white - and he swears that he has never loved anyone more. their romance is swift, a bouquet of flowers traded for an engagement ring and a passionate kiss exchanged for the start of a family. your father never says anything bad about your mother, raising you on his own with a faint line on his ring finger. she will be back soon, he says with glazed eyes and love-flushed cheeks that you seem to inherit. she will come back soon, he tucks you in with a faraway look on his features and you realize with a ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars that he isn’t okay. but, you hold his hand when crossing the streets with you leading and you let him dawdle about your mother and you pat the top of his head when he falls asleep waiting for your mother. she’ll be back, he says, unaware that she only visits when he’s not around. she will come back soon, he waits for her, a stranger in his own body.

you yearn for control the way your peers yearn for freedom. freedom, you have enough of, but everything in your life is just out of reach. for your entire childhood, you grasp at everything and nothing, your fingers brushing past the things you desire most. you are a young girl with magic in your blood, but you watch from the end of your driveway as life seems to spin so wildly out of control. your father isn’t okay, but you don’t understand why. your mother comes around wearing guilt like one wears a birthmark and you can’t fathom why. you are left alone on playgrounds and with scrapes on your knees and people whisper about you but you don’t understand why. life goes on with or without you, and you think it unacceptable. it’s infuriating being in the backseat, unable to control, unable to know. when a letter falls into your hands, you swear to use it to your advantage. you refuse to ever be in the dark again.

you arrive on your own, a year older than your peers, a sheltered girl from a muggle world and you look around, determined to change your life. it’s obvious to anyone early on that you’re a bright girl, ambition tied into your intelligence, potential pouring over every single one of your edges. for a while, it comes easily. you know things, you understand things; most of all, you learn how terribly things can go wrong. you swear to never let that happen to you, but of course, life has bigger plans for you. the first few years fly by quick and your hands build up a reputation that you’re eager to upkeep. you wipe the sweat off of your palms onto your skirts, you might use magic to make sure your hair always looks good, you always know the latest news, you always pass your classes. then, you go home during your third year to an empty house and your father is gone.

when you return after the winter holidays, it’s obvious that something is - wrong, but you do your thing and you pretend everything is okay. your mother in all of her magic and love writes you a letter, telling you that you’ll be in her care and that only stresses you out more, giving you gray hair and bags underneath your eyes that never seem to away from that point on. every blink is heavier now, every sliver of information repeated as least three more times, everything you learn adds a little more weight to your shoulders. but you soldier on. you become more and more high strung, more sharp, more wretched with stress that shouldn’t be yours to shoulder. you are still an intelligent girl, still a bright witch, still gleaming with potential; but you almost permanently look like you’ve been handled an impossible task and worse, you wear your flushed cheeks almost as your father did, a fact that you dislike whenever you see yourself in the mirror.

⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ has a relatively tough exterior, but wow, words hurt and hestia is a lot more sensitive than she cares to admit. say one off thing about her and she’ll be all “i can’t stand it here!” and storm off angrily, but she’s really just gonna go cry in the owlery and talk to the owls as if they can understand her through her snot bubbles.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ is this genius of a witch, right, but is the messiest person ever. her area in her dorm is just . . . yeah, it’s messy. she comes to the library, throws seven books down, loses ten pages of notes; is disorganized and completely messy, but at least she always looks put together.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ coming right off of the last one, because she cares most about her image + her reputation than she does anything else, mostly because it’s all that she thinks she has. so, yeah, she may be consistently stressed out and on the brink of a breakdown, but at least she looks GOOD.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ her style is a little . . . amateur, if i’m being honest. very season one rachel berry. always looks in uniform even if she’s out of uniform and it’s because she has no personality than being a ravenclaw prefect idk what you want me to tell you. she has never been normal once.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ i laugh and kid, but she’s genuinely a genius. might have a bit of dyslexia, but is just,,, a smart kid. also makes it her entire personality though, so i’m not sure what to do about that.

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ also, not to be That Girl that’s so quirk n clumsy, but hestia is always injured. not gravely, but a scrape on her knee, a cut on her cheek, tape around her fingers, etc. etc. she’s a problem, to say the least, and always hastily takes care of herself ( aka, cleans it, leaves it ).

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ in general, is a hater, but is so STRESSED from having a #missing father that she’s just like :| in every situation. i wouldn’t call her awkward per se, but she definitely just says what she wants when she wants cause there’s “no point in quieting myself for someone’s comfort” idk?

⠀ ⠀ ﹟𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧.⠀ ⠀ in MY canon, hestia actually conjures up a fox patronus, but it’s non corporeal for now simply because she literally cannot focus long enough to cast the charm correctly – in fact, a lot of her magic has been suffering for the past few years due to her stress, something that really only stresses her out more rip in pieces.

⠀ ﹟𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

academic rival: personally, i’d love for someone who’s just naturally good at academia to be her rival, like the person who doesn’t study and “doesn’t care” but always just manages to beat her in scores; yeah, i think that’d be fun to watch her spontaneously combust.

significant annoyance: someone who really just is the person to tell hestia she’s wound up too tight all the time and tries to get her to live her life, but she just sees them as someone who’s ANNOYING HER because maybe her entire life is being uptight, ever think of that? rabastan

quidditch rival: because quidditch is really the only time she lets her hair down per se, this rivalry is more friendly than it is serious like the academic rival, but there’s still a lot of trash talk involved and meet ups in the corridors to talk shit <3

best friend: the one person who she’s like . . . super grateful for because they’re always there, no matter what she goes through or does to them through her stress induced breakdowns. you know. they’re bffs and always eat together and spend time together n gossip together. eloise

tutee: someone that either hestia’s offered to help or has been forced to help, either way, she’s as strict as any professor and takes her job completely seriously. as in, will approach them in the great hall and ask if they’ve done the work they’re supposed to do.

stress reliever: imagine this - hestia comes up to your muse and is like we need to talk, but they just find a nice seat underneath one of the archways and talk into the night, they make hestia laugh, hestia makes them laugh, they have flushed cheeks by the end of it and she doesn’t speak to them otherwise. xenophilius

their biggest anti: ur muse’s #1 hater??? hestia jones <3 why? probably because they’re better than she is and she’s a nightmare of a person so it’s just her being their biggest anti, probably runs a hate account dedicated toward them tbh <3 rodolphus

The Ex: you know. the ex. didn’t end the way they wanted it to so there’s A Lot There. longing glances, awkward bumps, lots of what-ifs . . . a lot of sad headcanons, a lot of wholesome headcanons. yeah

like family: just someone who hestia is so comfortable with that it feels like they’re family. and by family, i mean like the kind to tackle her on sight just for fun, the sort to tease her and make everyone believe it’s her birthday. you know?

also a barely filled tag here n anything u can possibly brainstorm i’d love <3 thank u love u

#ww.intro #SORRY THIS IS REALLY LONG NOBODY LOOP #LOOK*

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

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The Loft Chapter 4

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Ron]

Ron would best describe the loft as a mess, but a clean one. After hours of scrubbing, the windows are clear and smudge-free, and the concrete floor shimmers with its long-forgotten natural color. What makes him feel most at home, however, is not the fresh pine scent of the couch cushions, but the fact that they're strewn about the floor like plush stepping stones. The boys have arranged them around the trash can in the middle of the room, which is empty save for a dried-up bottle of Febreeze.

Ron's desperate to know Hermione's opinion on the new decor. Despite lifting an eyebrow at the bad doodles of United States presidents and the cardboard cutout of a bald eagle plastered to the wall, she doesn't say anything. She must know better than to think he'll offer an explanation.

After cleaning and decorating the loft, Neville, Seamus, and Harry dispersed into their rooms to make themselves presentable, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen to finish up the last of the dishes. He hands her a plate to dry, and she takes it with a smile.

"Thank you for helping, Hermione."

"Of course! But I'm not sure why we're cleaning so much if it's just going to get trashed."

Trashed might be an exaggeration, but she's right in the sense that the new cleanliness of the loft isn't going to last very long. Tonight they're throwing a party, Hermione's first as a loft resident, and she's in for a treat. The boys have been purposely vague regarding loft parties, as any accurate descriptions might turn her off attending. Ron would hate to have her make other plans tonight, whether those be with the girls, or worse, a date.

"Hey, we're not animals. But if it's going to get trashed, it's nice to know it's new-trashed, not old-trashed," he says, earning an eye-roll from Hermione.

"So I'm guessing that this party is America-themed?"

"No. Why would you guess that?"

"No reason," she says, eyeing the miniature blow-up Uncle Sam doll that the boys have been tossing around like a basketball.

"The decorations are just for the drinking game we're going to play," he says, motioning to the multiple cases of PBR lining the wall.

"Right, how do you play?"

"It's not really a game you can explain. You just have to experience it. Nice try, though."

"Then I look forward to experiencing it." She finishes drying the last dish and stacks it away neatly in the cupboard. "What else do we need to set up? Everyone's coming at eight, right?

Ron checks his watch. "Shit, you're right. People should be here soon. I'm going to get ready. Can you start on the beer castle?"

"The beer castle?"

"Yeah. Just stack beer cans in a castle shape around the trash can in the living room."

Ron doesn't wait for Hermione's reaction before he slips back into his room. He rummages around his closet in search of something to wear, something that makes him look both put-together and laid back, ready to party. He lands on a pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue t-shirt that looks quite nice with his eyes.

He's pretty sure Hermione hasn't seen him in it. Not that it matters, anyway.

He pulls off his shirt and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, he looks pretty damn good. He's a bit skinny but firm and fit. It comes as a pleasant surprise because he's been slacking on his workouts ever since Hermione moved in and he lost his home gym. It's been difficult to exercise in his tiny bedroom, so he doesn't. He hasn't wanted to work out in the living room for fear of Hermione seeing him, but maybe he should give that a try…

With a shrug, Ron pulls off his pants and stands back up. He can't resist the urge to take another look at himself in the mirror. As much as he wishes he was a bit more muscular, there are pros to being lanky. By comparison, his scrawny self really does accentuate his already well-endowed state.

He checks himself out from a few more angles before deciding that physically, he doesn't have much to complain about.

Before he has the chance to put on his pants, the door to his bedroom swings open. Ron startles when it crashes against the wall and Hermione barges in uninvited.

"Hey Ron, I have a question about the beer can castle—"

"Hermione!" Ron, completely naked, scrambles for something to cover himself with but doesn't have time before she's standing right in front of him. "You have to knock!"

She's staring at the two cans in her hands until she pauses and looks up, but her gaze never makes it to his face. Instead, it lands directly on his penis, and she seems to stare at it for an eternity. Thanks to his utter panic, Ron can't move.

It almost feels like time has stopped, and he's frozen there like the statue of David while Hermione ogles him. She appears to be frozen too, eyes wide, mouth agape, staring.

If his dick could blush, it would match the color of his ears, which are bleeding scarlet.

For a split second, he wonders if it's truly as bad as it seems. Maybe Hermione likes what she sees. A tiny seed of hope takes root.

But that hope shatters when she opens her mouth to speak and lets out the worst sound he's ever heard. It's somewhere between a scream and a giggle, and he wouldn't wish such a reaction on his worst enemy.

Without further ado, a red-faced Hermione mutters a quick and useless 'sorry' and rushes out the door and slams it behind her.

Ron stands there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before the reality of what just happened crashes down.

Hermione just laughed at his dick.

Well, fuck.

Now that he knows how she really feels, he'll never be able to look her in the eye again.

Ron stays in his room until there's a knock on the loft's door, and he has to show his face in order to let in his guests. He's opted for a hoodie over his shirt so he can hide behind the hood whenever Hermione looks at him, because when she does, his neck prickles with heatwaves, and he feels like he's naked again.

It doesn't make sense — Ron's never reacted so strongly to having a woman see him naked, and he's had a decent amount of experience in that arena. He's no Seamus, of course, but he's not a stranger to the occasional hookup.

It's just because she laughed—no other reason.

He opens the door to find his sister Ginny, her roommate Demelza, and two of their mutual friends—Dean and Luna.

"Welcome," says Ron, opening the door.

"Hey, Ron!" says Ginny. "Hermione!"

Ginny crashes into Hermione for a hug, then introduces her to everyone else. "This is Hermione, Ron's new roommate."

"Nice to meet you all!"

Hermione falls into easy conversation with Ron's friends before they get a chance to greet him, but they don't seem bothered by it. He watches her through narrowed eyes and doesn't even realize he's glaring at her until she looks at him and scowls.

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns back toward his friends, hoping they didn't notice their interaction. "Make yourselves at home. Drinks in the fridge, food on the counter, and you know where the beer is," he says, pointing at the beer castle.

Harry turns the music up just as their guests crack open their beers, and everyone starts to relax. Except for Ron, of course. Even though he's hyper-aware of Hermione, he still manages to bump into her and make more frequent eye contact than he'd like.

For some reason, they seem to gravitate toward the kitchen to replenish food and drinks at the same time, and they barely manage a conversation when they run into each other.

"Oh, sorry," she says, trying to slide past him, only for him to walk directly into her in an attempt to get out of her way.

"Erm—"

"I'll go left; you go right."

"Yeah, okay."

Are they always this awkward around each other?

Every time he tries to act normal, all he can hear is her weird little high-pitched scream-laugh, and he just wants to disappear into his hoodie. On occasion, Ron can sense Hermione watching him, but she looks away whenever he tries to catch her gaze. Not that he wants to make awkward eye contact with her, he just wants her to leave him alone.

He continues to keep himself at a safe distance to avoid talking to her, making sure he's always involved in a conversation with someone else. Over the course of the party, he becomes progressively more resentful of how much mental space it requires to avoid her.

Then, like a hawk, she swoops in and catches him alone while he's in the kitchen grabbing another beer.

"Ron!"

"Jesus," he says, nearly crashing into her. "You scared me."

"Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not."

"Is it because I saw you naked?"

"No."

"It's not a big deal, Ron."

Of course, she has the nerve to act like he's the one who's being childish.

"Oh yeah, Hermione?" he says. "Then why did you laugh? Too immature?"

Hermione opens her mouth to answer, but in the moment before she does, he turns away from her and shouts to the crowd, "Who's ready for True American?"

The loft whoops their approval and begins to gather in the living room.

"Right now?" whispers Hermione behind him. "We're still talking."

But he ignores her.

"The game is True American," shouts Ron at a volume much louder than necessary for the size of the room. "Say 'aye' if you've played before."

There's a chorus of 'ayes' and a room-wide scrambling toward the furniture. When everyone hops onto a cushion, a table, or a chair, Ron notices Hermione looking around frantically, her expression disheartened.

"I'm the only one who's never played?" she asks.

"It's okay, Hermione," says Harry. "All you need to know is that it's about fifty percent drinking, fifty percent life-size Candy Land."

"I'd argue that it's seventy-five percent drinking, twenty percent Candy Land, and the floor is lava," says Ginny. "Which is why we're standing on the furniture. Hermione, you're melting."

"Oh no," she says, hopping up onto the coffee table between the beer castle and Demelza, who extends a hand to help her.

"Honestly, guys, it's ninety-percent drinking and has a very loose Candy Land-like structure to it," says Neville. "There's also a truth or dare component."

"I just need to know how to play—"

"You're smart; you'll catch on," says Ron. His tone comes off a little more terse than he'd intended, so he quickly continues, "I'll start. JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone but Hermione shuffles to a new location, avoiding the lava floor, and Hermione is left standing in her same spot between the beer castle and now, Luna.

"What just happened?" she asks, looking confused.

"Hermione, since you're the last to find a new spot, you have to pick someone, and they'll ask you a truth or dare question," explains Ginny. "Just answer and drink."

"Okay, then," she says. "Um, Neville. Truth."

"How do you like loft life?" asks Neville brightly, eliciting a groan from the crowd.

"Neville, you can do better—" starts Seamus.

"It's her first game!" he says. "Let's ease her in. So, Hermione?"

"Well, it's great so far."

"Just so you know, not every question will be that tame," says Ginny from her precarious perch on the armchair.

"Go figure," says Hermione before chugging back a gulp of her PBR.

As soon as she swallows her drink, Neville shouts out, "The only thing we have to fear is…"

"Fear itself!"

When the crowd joins in, Hermione looks around the room, dumbfounded.

"Hermione, you didn't complete the quote," says Harry.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!"

"Well, now you do! Drink, and then pick someone."

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage since you didn't explain the game," she says, challenging Harry.

"We've all been there," Harry says, shrugging, "It's a rite of passage."

"Fine," Hermione takes a long swig and points at Ginny. "Ginny, truth."

"Sweet!" says Ginny, beaming mischievously. "Hermione, are you attracted to anyone in the loft?"

Ron's ears tingle at Ginny's question, and he tunes in for Hermione's answer.

"Nope," she says, taking a hasty drink.

In his curiosity, Ron has made prolonged eye contact with Hermione for the first time since the penis-incident, but when she catches his gaze, he quickly looks away. Ron's stomach clenches. Not that he wants Hermione to be attracted to him, but after she saw him naked, it's quite the low blow. Trying to look casual, he pulls back a swig of beer.

"Really?" presses Seamus. "None of us?"

"Ginny's turn!" says Hermione, ignoring Seamus' question.

"Alright, here we go," says Ginny, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Abe Lincoln! George Washington!"

"Cherry Tree!" shouts Ron.

"Correct! Pick a person and an amendment!"

"Hermione, second."

Everyone looks at Hermione, and Ginny tosses her an unopened can of beer.

"I don't understand," she says. "You still haven't given me any information."

"You have to shotgun a beer! And then pick someone to ask truth or dare," says Dean.

"Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

"Give it time, Hermione," encourages Neville. "I didn't understand it at first either."

Hermione groans and sets down her half-full PBR, and reaches into her pocket for her key. She stabs the bottom of her can, then tips it into her mouth, chugging it down while the loft's onlookers cheer in the background.

Eyebrows raised, Ron watches her shotgun her beer, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He never thought he'd see that, and he isn't complaining.

"Yeah, there's no going back now," says Hermione once she finishes. "Luna, truth."

"Yay!" says Luna. "Did you and Ron get into a fight? You've been avoiding each other all night."

Ron's face grows hot. He bores his gaze toward Luna, who is staring intently at Hermione and doesn't seem to notice Ron's glare.

"Is that really your question?" she asks.

"Yep!"

"Luna, you've never seen us interact," says Ron. "How would you know that?"

Luna shrugs. "I can just tell."

"You know what," says Harry as he looks between Ron and Hermione. "You two have been acting weird tonight."

"Is it that obvious?" asks Hermione.

Ron feels Hermione's eyes on him, and his palms break out in a sweat. Once again, his refusal to make direct eye contact probably serves as a sufficient answer to Hermione's question.

"Well, fine then," she says, turning back toward Luna. "Earlier, I walked in on him changing. But it wasn't a big deal."

"Ron, is this true?" asks Harry.

Everyone turns to look at Ron, who groans. "Yes, but as she said, it wasn't a big deal."

His roommates might as well be shining an interrogation light on him by the way they all continue to stare.

"If it wasn't a big deal, why are you all fidgety?" asks Seamus.

"I'm not," says Ron, but his defensive tone suggests otherwise.

"Yeah, women have seen you naked before, Ron," says Luna. "Why is it different with Hermione?"

"Whose turn is it?" says Ron, much louder than necessary. Anything to divert the attention from Luna's oddly specific question.

"Oh, it's my turn," says Luna. "One, two, three, go!"

Luna holds up the number five to her forehead, and everyone else follows suit with their own number. Ron looks frantically around the room and breathes a sigh of relief when he matches numbers with Harry.

It appears that Hermione, who was the last to catch on, as usual, is the only one without a partner.

"Not again!" she says. "But at least that one made sense. Seamus, truth."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asks Ginny.

But it's too late. Seamus, who is already slurring his words, looks at Hermione and asks, "So, Hermione, what does Ron's dick look like?"

"Dude, what the fuck?" shouts Ron.

"Seriously, Seamus," adds Harry. "That's not even an interesting question."

"Sure, it is! I'm interested!"

"Old news," pipes in Neville. "We've all seen Ron's dick."

Embarrassed, Ron glances toward Hermione. She looks lost for words. "You don't have to answer, Hermione."

"No, we haven't!" says Seamus.

"Really?" says Dean as he side-eyes Seamus. "I've seen it, and I don't even live here."

Ron looks toward the loft door. Maybe he can make a run for it.

"Am I the only roommate who hasn't seen your dick?" asks Seamus, now appearing uninterested in Hermione's answer. When everyone in the room turns to look at Ron, he feels like he's naked in a crowd again.

Ron shrugs. "I guess so," he says, casually taking a sip of his beer.

"When? Where?"

"I don't know, dude. Locker rooms, penis fights, I'm sure you'll see it someday," says Ron. "Can we stop talking about my dick, now?"

"Yes, let's move on," says Hermione with an apologetic glance in Ron's direction. "Just ask me a different question."

"Fine," says Seamus, his words melding together, "Hermione, what did you think of Ron's dick?"

"Seriously, Seamus?"

"I guess we can't," mutters Ron.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Whatever. He has a very nice penis."

"I wouldn't know," says Seamus bitterly. Then, just as quickly, "JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone scrambles for a new spot, and this time Ron's the only one left out in the shuffle.

"Fuck," he says, looking around for someone who won't ask him a dick-related question. "Uh, Demelza, truth."

Demelza smiles. "How did Hermione react to seeing your dick?"

"I picked you because I thought you wouldn't ask about my dick, Demelza."

"Sorry," shrugs Demelza.

"It wasn't a big deal," says Hermione.

Before he can stop himself, Ron scoffs, and once again, everyone snaps their heads in his direction.

"Sounds like it was a big deal."

"It wasn't!" says Hermione. "I mean—"

"Hermione, don't," says Ron, but Hermione continues without a missed beat.

"I laughed at first, but only because I was nervous."

"You LAUGHED?" asked Demelza. "No wonder you two are being so weird."

"It was an accident!"

"Let's move on," growls Ron. "Demelza, your turn." He shoots a glare in Hermione's direction.

"Niagara!" says Demelza.

Everyone brings their drink to their mouth and begins chugging. As soon as each person finishes, they toss their empty cans to the PBR castle in the middle of the room. Hermione, having caught on a moment too late, is the last one to toss it.

Hermione groans. "Harry, dare."

Harry grins. "Well, to make Ron feel better, I dare you to repeat after me. I love Ron's cock."

Ron's ears grow warm again, but they're also buzzing from the beer, which takes precedence over his embarrassment. Also, it'll be interesting to hear Hermione follow through with this dare.

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Fine. I love Ron's penis."

Ron sends her a curious glance. She said it so… formally, like she was taking an oath in court.

There's a tense silence while everyone stares at Hermione. "Try again," says Harry.

"Why?"

"I love Ron's cock," he repeats. "Say it."

"I did."

"You said penis. Not cock."

"Same thing!" she protests.

"Hermione, why can't you say cock?" repeats Harry.

"Penis is the technical term," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron chuckles at the argument playing out before him.

"What about dick?" suggests Demelza.

Hermione stares at Demelza, her cheeks flooding with color. "Why?"

"Schlong? Wang? Knob?" offers Seamus.

"Seriously, what's wrong with 'penis'?"

"Nothing, it's just weird that you won't say cock," says Harry. "I think that should require two drinks for refusing a dare."

Ron looks around the room; everyone nods in agreement.

"Fine," says Hermione before taking a second sip.

As soon as she finishes her sip, Harry shouts, "Give me liberty or—"

"Give me death!"

As assumed, Hermione is the only one who doesn't catch on.

"Ugh," she says. "Dean, dare."

"I dare you to make it even!" slurs Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"He showed you his; now you show him yours."

"Executive order," says Ginny. "Vetoed."

"Why?" asks Ron. "I don't think it's a bad idea. Plus, it would make me feel better." He pouts at Hermione with wide, puppy-dog eyes and grins when her cheeks flood with color. He's well aware that she never responded to Dean.

"Too far, that's why," says Ginny.

"Well," says Ron. "You guys are no fun."

There's a moment of silence when no one seems to remember where they are in the game or whose turn it is. Seamus breaks the silence with a question directed at Ron.

"Can I please just see it?"

Ron groans and rolls his eyes. "No. And I'm going to bed."

"Why?" whines Seamus.

"I didn't think my dick would be such a huge topic of conversation, yet here we are."

"More of a slightly above average topic if you ask me," says Harry.

"See what I mean?" says Ron, as he hops off his cushion and turns his back to the crowd. "Goodnight."

After chugging a tall glass of water, Ron retreats to his room for the night, ready to escape his roommates' drunken shenanigans. He changes into sweats, settles underneath the covers, and is about to turn off the lights when there's a knock at his door.

"Erm, come in."

The door creaks open, and Hermione pokes her head into his room. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, raising his eyebrows at his unexpected guest. "Thank you for knocking."

"So—"

"I'm not naked. Sorry to disappoint you." He cuts her off, aiming for an icy tone, but unfortunately, it comes off whiny.

Maybe he has been acting a bit petty and childish.

She stares at him, expressionless, for a few tense moments and then bursts out into laughter. He can't help but follow suit. Her laughter is quite contagious when he's fully clothed.

"For the record, I'm not laughing at the thought of you naked," she assures him as if reading his mind.

"Sure, Hermione. Sure," he says. His cheeks are heating up, but he's glad it's not from embarrassment this time.

"I meant it, you know," she says, as soon as her laughter dies down.

"You meant what?"

"That you have a very nice—" she clears her throat, "cock."

Ron beams — at both the compliment and her word choice. "You said cock!"

She stands a little taller. "I've been practicing."

"Say it again!" he urges.

"Please don't make me."

"Pretty please—"

"Fine," she says, taking a step, so she's fully in the room. The door closes behind her. "Cock. Dick. Schlong. Willy."

"Okay, now you're embarrassing yourself."

"Give me more words," she says, now grinning. "I want to prove that I can do it."

"Okay, why don't you try Peter Pecker. Big Red. The Orange Cannon."

Hermione's face flashes red, and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

"Too much for you?" asks Ron.

"Did you nickname your penis?"

"No!" Ron protests, although his flushing cheeks likely give him away. "Those are from former lovers."

"Oh, well, I'm not going to say them then."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your former lover," she argues.

He catches a slight emphasis on' former' and forces himself to keep his expression neutral. Maybe some good will come from the penis incident. Either that, or he's imagining it.

"While technically true, I still want to hear you say them."

"Too bad."

Thankful that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating, Ron grins at her. "Then you'll have to make it up to me another way."

As soon he speaks, he winces, hearing the implication of his words a moment too late. Did he actually just say that?

Hermione doesn't waste any time with her response. "How? By making it even?"

Ron cannot interpret her expression — it almost looks like she's trying to keep it neutral. In his effort to decipher it, he hesitates for too long, and by leaving her comment hanging, he might as well have agreed.

"That was actually what I came in here to do," she says, biting her lip.

"Really?"

"Yes."

At this point, it feels like his whole face is on fire, and Hermione's smirk isn't helping at all. He can't bring himself to look away from her eyes nor say anything, as the air feels too thick with tension. She could be bluffing, but he has no desire to call her on it if she is.

Is she joking?

His question answers itself when Hermione averts her eyes to the ground and hooks her thumbs at the hem of her shirt.

Holy shit. She's not.

Hermione keeps her eyes on the ground, and Ron can't help but grin at how her cheeks turn bashfully pink. He wishes he could help it because he's definitely beaming like an idiot. With a deep, nervous breath, she pulls her shirt up and over her bra—

She's not wearing a bra.

Fuck.

Ron lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Well damn, Hermione."

Still holding up her shirt, she meets his gaze. "Yes, Ron?"

"You have amazing… knockers."

"Ron!" she says, shoving her shirt back down. He immediately misses the view, but he doesn't regret his word choice. "They're called breasts."

"Boobies. Bing Bongs. Spongey love mountains."

"And I'm the immature one?"

"Jesus, woman, just take the compliment! I'm trying to tell you that I love your tatas." He speaks before he can filter himself, hoping she doesn't read too much into his phrasing. There's nothing wrong with showing appreciation, after all.

She lets a small smile at his admission but quickly narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her now fully-clothed chest. "If I have to say cock, you have to say breasts."

"Sorry, Hermione," says Ron, his tone veering dangerously close to flirtation. Then, feeling a bit bolder, he continues, "what I meant to say is you have wonderful breasts."

Her face tinges red, and she smiles smugly. "Thank you, Ron."

"You're very welcome. Your turn."

"What?"

He motions toward his pants. "I want to hear you say it again."

She groans. "Fine, but this is the last time."

"Sure it is."

She rolls her eyes before continuing. "Ron, you have a lovely cock."

His breath hitches in his throat. Hearing her say that again definitely does something to him, and it's not helped by the sincerity in her tone. She's not lying. As a result, his hair stands on end, heat pools in his stomach, and he's thankful for the positioning of his bed covers.

"Thank you, Hermione," he responds, looking directly into her warm brown eyes. Reflecting her slight smile, they appear softer and darker than usual, as if they're deep in thought.

Ron and Hermione keep eye contact for a few elongated seconds before the awkwardness of the interaction kicks in, and they avert their eyes, looking anywhere but each other. What an odd conversation to have with a roommate.

"I should go to bed," says Hermione, pointing at the door.

"Erm, yeah. Me too."

"So I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Good night," he says, but Hermione's already out the door. He sighs.

It shuts behind her, and Ron turns off the light and leans back in his bed. When he closes his eyes, the image of Hermione's perfect breasts is still fresh in his mind, and he makes no effort to let it morph into something else because who knows if he'll ever get to see them again.

Why would he? She's just his roommate.

Yeah. I'm definitely attracted to my roommate.

A smile creeps onto his face. It feels good to admit it, even if it's only to himself.

#muggle AU #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #Romione angst #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #be11a_loft

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izukuwus · 4 years

Text

Floriography 2

first - next

A/N: so y’all probs saw my posts about this, but ‘Walks Through the Garden’ has been renamed to ‘Floriography’ moving forward! we start to see a lil bit more of the magic in this chapter. I’m still ironing out details for the magic system but I’m having fun with it <3 we also see a little bit less of the flower symbolism. unfortunately, there’s only so many flowers in the world and I don’t wanna repeat flowers a bunch. (also not every scene is like... conducive to starting and ending with flower meanings >.<) sorry if that’s a huge draw for this series! I do plan on keeping with the flower symbolism whenever I have a proper opportunity for it, though!

Summary: Izuku has a request of your parents. (prince!arranged fiancé!Izuku Midoriya x princess!Reader)

Warnings: uh none really? some mild shitty gender roles as expected of being a female in a monarchy, mildly shitty dads

Word count: 3300+

Sweet peas thank the recipient for time spent together. White violets tell the recipient, "let's take a chance". Yellow water lilies signify a growing indifference, while a wilted flower carries the opposite meaning.

Your fiancé is two people in one body. You've learned this after just one dinner—there is Izuku, the prince, and then there is Izuku, your fiancé. The man you ate dinner with—Izuku, the prince—is distant, speaks in practiced words to fit into the mold he has been expected to grow into. Your fiancé Izuku is kind, almost meek. But he looks at you, sees you.

This much, at least, you can know from a single walk in the palace gardens together.

The morning after your meeting, you prepared a bouquet to be sent to him—sweet peas, white violets, and a single wilted water lily, just alive enough that you can see that it was yellow before it wilted. You'd arranged it by hand, carefully tying an iris around it before having it sent on to Izuku. You learned that same day that the date of your wedding was already set—at the end of the year, you'd be married.

Nine months until you no longer have a fiancé.

Nine months to, hopefully, fall in love with him, so that you can actually enjoy your own wedding.

Your fiancé is someone much more agreeable than you'd hoped, but still you find yourself wishing you were actually in love.

Not that he's making that hard. Every day in the month since your meeting, you've received a single flower and a handwritten note from the prince himself, each reading little things like "ignore the meaning of this one, I just thought it was pretty, so it suited you" and a short little blurb about how his day's gone. You've ended every day with a flower from him, and in the mornings, you send one back with your own short letter and ignore the amused looks your attendants share when they think you're too focused on composing a response or picking a flower to notice.

This morning is different, however. This morning, you magic off your response just after you've been dressed and prepared for the day and receive one immediately.

Sorry for the short notice, but do you think you could request an audience with your parents in my stead? I wish to see you again. My father has requested that you join me on my next trip through the countryside, so that you may learn your new kingdom before our marriage. If it's alright with you, I, too, would like for you to accompany me. Please let me know at your earliest convenience—I have the whole day. :) -Izuku

You smile, leaving your room with the note in hand. At breakfast, you set down your spoon and glance at your parents. "Mother? Father? Izuku has requested an audience with you, whenever it's convenient."

Your parents share knowing glances before your father turns back to you with a smile. "So you've been communicating with the young Prince."

"P-perhaps I have."

"That's good to hear. We'd love for him to visit properly, moreso than merely to have his audience and leave."

Your mother nods. "Invite him over for dinner!"

You blink slowly. "Oh, well, if that's the case, then I'll let him know once I've finished eating."

And you do—before you can be properly sat down for your morning tutoring session, you grab a piece of paper and write him back.

My parents said they'd be more pleased if you came over and spoke with them over dinner tonight. Is that okay?

Smiling to yourself, you doodle a little carnation at the bottom of the note.

Note: it's not striped.

You receive your response in the form of a beautiful drawing of a better carnation. In the bottom corner, it reads:

This one's not striped, either. I'll see you around sunset. (It's not yellow, either, right? This one's red.) :)

Despite the fact that he's completely blown your little carnation doodle out of the water, you can't help but smile fondly, feeling the tiniest amount of heat rush to your cheeks.

Carnations, when solid in color, indicate acceptance or "yes" to an answered question. Yellow ones invoke disappointment or rejection, while striped carnations are a clear statement of refusal. Red carnations are used to tell the recipient: "my heart aches for you".

You shift anxiously. Sunset is soon and you're ready for dinner. You'd be lying if you said you weren't really interested in this proposal of his—to get out of the palace for a while, spend some time talking with your fiancé properly, maybe even away from prying eyes so you can talk to him when he's not posturing and trying to act all princely? Of course you're interested. You'd be a fool not to be!

Eventually, you cast aside nervously pacing around your chambers to get some fresh air in the garden. (You're explicitly not waiting for Izuku's arrival, and no one can prove otherwise.) Naturally, you're accompanied by your guard, who watches from afar, hand on the hilt of his sword in preparation for the slightest thing to go wrong.

To his credit, for a second you think that it does. One moment, you're leaned over the fountain, investigating your reflection in the water and toying with a loose lock of hair, and the next, runes swirl in the air in front of you, green and orange wisps that foretell a teleport about to arrive. The brief scent of peaches and lemongrass is quickly overpowered by the scent of ash and gunpowder that follows, but you have just enough time to recognize the first before it's drowned out.

Eijirou is quick to pull you back and away, sword at the ready in case of intruders, but you grab his arm with a frown, intending to tell him about the familiar scent before he tries to cut someone down, and more importantly, you should move them from the water before there's a teleport mishap.

"Eijirou, wait–"

"It's alright, your highness," he says firmly. "Please step back."

You bite your lip, watching with anxious eyes as the runes finally take proper shape, dropping from their swirls two familiar faces, who land directly into the fountain with a loud splash.

"Eijirou, stand down," you order quickly, willing yourself not to swear as you rush forward. Speaking of swearing, Izuku's knight ('Kacchan', you think he was called?) is doing an awful lot of that as he climbs out of the fountain and extends a hand to help Izuku up.

The minute both men are out of the water, you curtsy with a profuse apology and begin focusing your magic. After rigorous magic tutoring earlier today so you could finish early, you're a little bit close to being tapped out, but you should still have enough left to dry them off.

You breathe in slowly as you lightly touch their arms. On an exhale, the excess water pulls away from both of their bodies and clothes. You struggle with the hair, but it's better not to pull all the water at once. Carefully, you will it back to the fountain, your runes dutifully carrying it away.

"You have my deepest apologies," you say quickly as you pop up on your toes to reach Izuku's hair and try to work out all the water with your magic. "I hadn't thought that you'd be using me as a teleport point, or I'd have not been standing so close to the fountain! In just a moment longer I'll have you cleaned up, so please hold still."

Izuku is silent as your fingertips brush his scalp, his eyes fluttering shut as you focus on the water. Frowning, you bring another hand up to assist you. His hair's so thick, pulling the water from it is nothing short of a struggle. Meanwhile, Eijirou focuses on helping the other knight dry his own hair.

With the water finally obeying you and pulling away from his curly locks, you have the moment to realize just how soft Izuku's hair is. It looks more like a mop than anything from a distance, but now, you feel almost like you're petting a kitten, a sensation only furthered by the fact that he's literally pressing his head into your hand. You honestly don't doubt that he'd be purring if he could.

Once you're properly done drying him off with a little magic, you remove one hand from his head to stifle your giggle. The other lingers in his hair just a moment. "Sorry, you have really soft hair. Did I miss any spots?"

You're careful to look him over for any wet spots on his clothes. His hair is back to its usual fluffy mess, causing you to wonder how much time his attendants must spend trying to tame it on a daily basis. When you're both satisfied that he's dry, you quickly pull the rest of the water out of his knight's hair and return all of it to the fountain.

"I really do feel the need to apologize again for that. I thought to pull your runes away from the water, but..."

Izuku shakes his head with a smile. "No, really, it's all right! I should have told you ahead of time that we'd be using you as the anchor point for our teleport. We must have startled you."

"Perhaps a bit, but once I realized it was you I was reassured!" You shoot him your best grin. "Are you two ready? I can go inquire as to when the dinner will be ready before announcing your arrival, if you'd like."

"Ah, yes, please," Izuku stammers. "I wouldn't want to rush your chefs, however—"

Izuku's cut off by the sudden swirl of familiar teleport runes in front of you. The smell hits your nose before you recognize the inky blue, and you crinkle your nose in distaste at the smell of seaweed. Your father's runes. What materializes isn't him, but a simple note, not even written in his own handwriting: Whenever Prince Izuku arrives, dinner is ready and waiting.

You smile. "Ah! Perfect!" You carefully stick out your tongue, pulling forth just enough magic to pull off your favorite new trick: teleporting just enough ink to a page to write without a pen. Izuku just arrived. I'll escort him to the dining hall.

You send back the note with a wave of your hand. "My father says that dinner is already prepared for whenever you arrive, my prince." You say the last two words in a playful tone, grinning at him mischievously and offering one arm to him. "If it pleases his highness, I'd be honored to escort you to dinner."

He chuckles, looping his arm through yours. "By all means, lead the way, m-my dear."

You giggle as you lead him out of the gardens. "You were so close to a smooth delivery there."

Izuku rubs the back of his neck with his opposite hand, blushing lightly. "S-sorry. I'll do better next time."

"I think it's endearing, actually," you comment, hiding a laugh behind your hand when he lets out a choked noise in response. "Only change if you want to, my prince."

"H-hey! Who's courting who, here?" he whines desperately, hiding his face. You toss your head back in a laugh. "Oh, but that actually reminds me!"

Izuku stops suddenly, turning to you and producing a single sprig of forsythia. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and quickly pins it in place with the yellow blooms. "There. They suit you, Princess."

Your cheeks tinge pink at the sudden gift, worsened by the way he smiles and laughs lightly at your expression. "There, now I'm not the only one blushing."

With that, he pats your cheek, turns, and heads toward the door, opening it for you with sparkling eyes.

"Wh—hey! I'm supposed to be the one escorting you, you little—" With an indignant squawk, you scamper after your fiancé, cheeks still burning red.

Forsythia symbolizes anticipation.

"So, Prince Izuku," your mother says, carefully setting down her soup spoon to peer across the table at your fiancé. "My daughter tells us that you wished to speak to us?"

Izuku's calm and collected as he sets down his own spoon and swallows his food. When he's ready, he opens his mouth and speaks in even, princely tones that don't suit the Izuku you've come to know through his letters. You suppose this means that he's in 'Prince mode'. "Yes, that's correct, your majesty."

Your mother wrinkles her nose in distaste, waving her hand in front of her face as if she's smelled something unpleasant. "Oh, please, dear. If you're marrying my daughter, I'd rather you treat me like family."

"Oh, of course, ma'am. I didn't intend to offend you. I was surprised, actually, that you allow [name]—I mean the princess to refer to you so directly. My father insists on being addressed by his title at all times, no matter who is speaking to him, so I assumed you'd be the same..."

Your mother laughs. "No, nothing so strict. There are plenty of ways to command respect without the sort of iron fist King Hisashi rules with, if you don't mind my saying."

"Mother," you hiss. "Please refrain from insulting Izuku's father in front of him."

"Oh, no, it's all right, [name]," Izuku says. "I know my father isn't exactly... popular when it comes to others' opinions of him. It's refreshing to be far enough from his influence that I'm actually made aware of it, however."

Your father speaks, the first time since the two of you entered the room to eat. "You never answered the question, Prince."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at how overtly protective he's acting. Moons, he's the one who arranged your engagement to Izuku!

Izuku swallows, and from your proximity, you can see him reigning in his stutter to answer. "...yes. My apologies. I wanted to ask if you'd grant your permission to allow your daughter to accompany me on my seasonal trip through my father's kingdom. My father has historically insisted on these trips to encourage my growth into my role as heir to the kingdom and, hopefully, to build a sensible rapport with my people before I take the throne myself. Since Her Highness and I are to be wedded this year, my father has agreed that it would be ideal for her to join me, so that we might grow closer and our people might learn her face before the wedding occurs. And I, personally, would love to have her company on this excursion."

Your father eyes you with a raised eyebrow. "I assume your betrothed spoke with you about this ahead of time, [name]?"

You nod. "Yes, father. We spoke about it briefly through letters, though I haven't yet requested the full details."

"How many guards typically accompany you on these excursions, Prince?" your mother asks, a hint of interest in her voice.

"It varies depending both on time of year and the prevailing public opinion, but there's always at least four. I'm fairly proficient in combat, and the guards chosen to accompany are all those whom I trust and have been chosen through several combat trials to determine their ability to provide adequate protections. We try to keep the detail low, to prevent from straining resources for travel and not draw too much attention during my travels. If necessary, I'm sure my father would be happy to increase the numbers to ensure your daughter's safety."

"My daughter doesn't know her way around a sword," your father says darkly. (Patently false, but he doesn't need to know about your habit of watching the guards during their training when you have the time, or the fact that Eijirou is more than happy to show you your way around a blade when he accompanies you about the castle.) "If I allow this little excursion, it will be your head if she doesn't return to me unharmed."

"Father, please don't threaten my fiancé," you groan. "I am capable enough with both offensive and defensive magic to defend myself—"

"[name]," he says sharply, not sparing you a glance. "The men are speaking."

Wounded, you snap your mouth shut and return to your food in silence, keeping a trained ear on their conversation and an eye on Izuku, who seems to have gone stock-still at how you've just been addressed.

"Of course, your Majesty," Izuku says, voice strained. "I would never dream of allowing harm to come to her."

A tense silence falls over the room, until finally, it's broken. "The excursion would be followed by a week's stay in the royal palace, if your Majesties and her Highness are all in accordance. I proposed this to my father as a way to allow her Highness to meet with my family and acclimatize to the palace, rather than merely the surrounding kingdom." Izuku's knuckles are white as he grips his spoon.

"I'd prefer to speak with you about this matter in private, Prince," your father says through gritted teeth. You wither under the atmosphere, eyes glued carefully to Izuku as he barely conceals a glare in response.

You're suddenly regretting all the anticipation you'd had for this meal.

"Meet me in the palace gardens before you leave," you'd whispered in Izuku's ear as he left the room at the end of dinner. He nodded then, before following your father to his study with Kacchan in tow.

Your father is an imposing man when he wants to be. Izuku has to remind himself to stand firm, to not give off a moment's glimpse of weakness to the man standing across the room from him.

"If I'm being honest, I'd hoped that the son of the infamous King Hisashi would have been a bit more like his father," the man says, hands folded behind his back. He lets out a sigh, as if it's somehow inconvenient for him that Izuku doesn't demand fear from others or threaten another's life or livelihood at the smallest slight.

Yeah, I get that a lot, Izuku wants to say. Instead, he simply nods. "I see."

"It is not unappealing, per se, for my daughter to marry someone like you," he continues, "but it would be ideal if you could properly set her into her role. She plays her part well, but my daughter is always pushing. She treads the line of her limits, as you saw when she spoke out of turn earlier."

"I'd have to disagree, your Majesty. I don't think [name] was out of line at all," Izuku says firmly, surprising even himself. "I don't know enough about her skills in combat well enough to properly defend them, but if she felt the need to stand up for herself, then I'm glad she acted upon it. What's the point in living if she's to be a quiet little doll who ‘stays in line’?"

Your father doesn't turn his head to look at Izuku, sighing yet again. "I don't think we'll ever see eye-to-eye on this matter. Perhaps it's best if we simply–"

"Did you want to speak further about the excursion?" Izuku interrupts coldly. "I'd be happy to give more details if you have any concerns, but my father would be upset if I returned without a proper decision. He's a busy man, as I'm certain you know, and preparations can't effectively be made if we don't know how many will be attending."

"...color me impressed, Prince Izuku," your father says. "I wasn't aware you had a spine."

"I find it more sound to not play all my cards at once, your Majesty."

"[name] may accompany you for your little trip. Her personal knight—I'm sure you're acquainted—will accompany her. Let me be clear that I was serious about your head should she not return."

"I was serious when I said that I wouldn't dream of letting her come to harm." Izuku's gaze is challenging as he meets the man's eyes.

Your father finally looks Izuku in the eye, one eyebrow raised. "See to it that you don't, your highness."

Taglist: @tooloudarts @zylith-imagines-and-fics

#my fics #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #fantasy au bnha #prince!izuku #princezuku #bnha royalty au #floriography fic #ooh look at me a chapter that's only 3k words

443 notes · View notes

hetacon · 4 years

Text

The Messages in Blue Ink

Word Count: 1,350

Pairings: Logicality, Background Prinxiety, Background Platonic Logince, Background Platonic Analogical, Implied Platonic Moxiety

Warning: None that I can think of!

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Summary: Logan writes helpful notes to himself due to his ADHD. He wished other writing would appear though...

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Note: This is for @artissijam’s birthday, decided to do a cute little soulmate AU for her! I love you so much Jules!!! It’s not much but I really hope you like this you funky and wonderful human being, I’m so glad we’ve become friends!!

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Logan never could remember things, it was quite an issue that he dealt with. It figures, seeing as he had ADHD but regardless, it was still annoying.

Due to that though, he started writing reminders to himself anywhere he could. Hands, arms, even his legs on the rare occasion. It was honestly just the easiest way to keep track of things. He didn’t have to worry about wasting paper or sticky notes or have his phone die on him. It was reliable.

During the time he was trying to focus on his paper for one of his classes, his roommate Roman made a passing comment about buying some more paper towels when Logan would be going out that afternoon. So as usual, but of course with a sigh, Logan took his pen out from his pocket and wrote down the item on his list.

He probably should wash off the note about calling his parents, he did that yesterday.

With that though, he tried to focus back on his paper.

This system of his had been working for years, he’d always been able to focus much more on all of the tasks when he could actually remember what they were. Figures but hey, he had to work with what he got.

He got to thinking about if he had other writing on his arms though...

Normal people would have conversations with their soulmates on their skin, maybe doodles such as the ones that adorned Roman’s and Virgil’s wrists and the backs of their hands since the latter of the two was quite the artist. Normal people would know their soulmates, have already met them at this point, or at the very least, have had a conversation with them. Logan wasn’t a normal person though in that he didn’t have any conversations with his soulmate. He’d never seen anything appear on his skin other than what he himself wrote.

He didn’t even know if he had one.

He didn’t often think much about it but as he was hanging out with Roman and Virgil one weekend, he watched as Virgil drew on his wrist with a purple pen, the ink blooming over Roman’s in response. Roman watched intently with a dorky grin, his head resting against Virgil’s. They were in their own little world.

“Guys?” Logan finally asked, setting his book down.

“Yeah Lo? What’s up?” Virgil asked, not looking up from his arm as he drew, Roman’s gaze turning up to Logan however.

“What would you do if you didn’t have a soulmate?”

Virgil stopped and put his pen down, looking up in confusion.

“Just hypothetically,” Logan muttered, looking up grimly at his friends.

“Dude, I’d still be in New York for one thing. Wouldn’t have ever met you and Ro in the first place,” Virgil offered.

“And I wouldn’t have started majoring in theater if he hadn’t encouraged me!” Roman said with a hum, kissing Virgil’s cheek.

Logan shook his head. “No, I mean like... How would you react or feel? You know, knowing you have no one ‘destined’ for you.”

Both of them blinked at Logan.

“I’d be a little sad I guess..” Virgil said slowly. “But I know I’d still have the capability to make friends, right? Not having a romantic partner isn’t the end of the world.”

“Right! And you have us!” Roman said with a smile, reaching out to place a hand on Logan’s shoulder, shaking him a bit. “It’s going to be just fine.”

Logan couldn’t stop himself from sighing. He loved his friends but still, a soulmate would be nice...

He would be lying if he said the subject of soulmates didn’t occupy his mind for long. He thought about it often, questioning things for months.

Every time he wrote out an item on his grocery list, he’d wonder if he had a soulmate. Every time he hastily scribbled down instructions for an assignment, he’d ask himself why they wouldn’t have written to him if he did have one. Every time he put down a note to himself to pick up his dry cleaning, he’d think about if he even wanted a soulmate.

It finally came to a point where he was fed up with everything involving soulmates and he rushed to the bathroom, washing off all the ink. Once his arms were dry, he sat in his room, looking down at his arm, a pen in hand.

His day had been awful and honestly, Logan just wished someone was there on the other end, seeing his writing.

He took a breath and started to write.

“Please just tell me, is anyone reading this? Do I have a soulmate?”

Logan was about to get up, only to watch as blue ink appeared under his own words written in black.

“Oh my gosh, hi, yes you do!”

“Hello, my name’s Logan Mandel.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you Logan, this is Patton”

“I like your name.”

“Thank you, I like yours too! It suits you!”

Logan felt his cheeks grow warm. Who was this person??

“You don’t know anything about me, I can’t see how you could tell.”

“Well, I have been seeing everything you’re writing... I know you’re a physics major for one thing. You also forget things a lot I take it. Though that’s ok, I think it’s cute that you write little reminders to yourself! And you keep in touch with your parents or at least want to! You seem like a swell kinda guy, Logan!”

“Thank you I suppose.”

“No problem!”

Just as Logan was about to start writing more, Patton quickly scribbled something below his last message. “I’m sorry, I’m cooking and need to take care of something! I’ll talk to you later!!”

Logan forgot all about his day.

With that interaction, Logan’s right arm became were he’d interact with Patton, his left for notes to himself and all of his lists. He took a quick liking to Patton, he was incredibly sweet to say the least but as they got to know one another, one thing bothered Logan.

“Why didn’t you ever write to me before?” Logan wrote, a bit out of the blue.

Patton was punctual and quick to respond as always.

“Well, I saw the things you kept track of! You needed the space more, I wanted to give it to you <3”

“But you don’t have to do that, I like talking with you Patton.”

“Well we could always meet up so we wouldn’t have to ;D I’m just teasing though, that’s up to you”

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They lived in the same city, he was one of Virgil’s other friends. Patton was meeting him at one of Logan’s favorite coffee shops today.

“Almost there!” Patton’s writing appeared on Logan’s arm.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Logan kept his eyes glued to the door as various people came and went from the coffee shop, clutching his arms tightly to himself. He saw a guy come in. It had to be Patton. He didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t want just any random stranger to have just walked in a sky blue skirt and white off-the-shoulder crop top sweater.

Oh goodness, Logan couldn’t do anything but stare at him, he looked so wonderful. He looked so soft and gentle, everything Logan wanted to see from his soulmate.

Before he knew it, that guy got his drink and went directly over to him with a smile, showing his arms as he sat down.

The ink matched.

Logan could only keep staring at Patton.

He wanted to count out all the freckles adorning Patton’s cheeks like stars.

Logan’s cheeks turned red but nowhere as lovely a shade as the natural pink of Patton’s face.

Logan couldn’t think.

“Hi,” Logan breathed out.

“Hi, Logie” Patton said back, a smile on his lips as he leaned forward to gently kiss Logan’s cheek.

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Taglist: @artissijam, @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog

#sanders sides #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #background prinxiety #background platonic analogical #background platonic logince #implied platonic moxiety #stan writing

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hiscyarika · 4 years

Note

I... have been Overthinking and Stressing Myself Out about random things lately, so if you could do a little drabble about Frankie comforting someone in the same style as that Din one, I would be forever grateful🥺🤚🤍

Word Count: ~900

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Prompt: See Above

Warning(s): None

A/N: Molly, honey. I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve had it rough lately. When I read this ask I immediately went to work and I hope that this can brighten your day/night even just the smallest bit. It was thrown together real quick, but hopefully you’ll like it anyway. I love you, dear. Make sure that you’re taking care of yourself! 💕

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Frankie is attuned to you better than anyone that you know. Even your oldest friends can’t read you with the same careful attention to detail that he can. So naturally, when your week begins to go downhill, even due to causes he’s not explicitly aware of, he knows. He feels it in the constant tension in your shoulders when he holds you at night. He hears it in the strain of your voice, so slight that only he could ever be aware of it. He sees it in the worry lines on your forehead and the red tint the whites of your eyes. Something’s wrong.

Usually, he gives you a couple of days. If it’s serious enough, he trusts you to talk to him, to come for him to help. He’ll always do whatever he can for you. You know that. Even the things that seem trivial to you are no simple thing for Frankie. He just wants to see you happy and healthy all the time. You’ve spent so much time in the years you’ve been together taking care of him. He’ll jump at any chance to return the favor.

When the front door slams as you return home from work, he knows that you’ve hit your breaking point.

Frankie stands from the couch, bare feet padding across the hardwood floor as he makes his way to you. You’re soaked from the rain that’s been pouring from the skies for days. He sighs softly in sympathy, helping you shed your jacket. After it’s hung on the peg on the wall, he takes you into his arms.

With one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulder, he holds you close, his heart clenching when he feels you trembling. At first he thinks you’re cold, but as soon as the first sob escapes your lips, muffled by his shoulder, he knows that not all the water droplets on your cheeks had been from the rain.

“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his hand drifting up to your hair. He presses his lips to the top of your head, wishing that there was a way to just instantly take your pain and frustration from you. But he’ll have to resort to other, slower methods, which he hopes will be effective.

For now, he lets you cry, whispering soothingly to you all the while. Only when you begin to pull away does he release you, though it’s only enough to be able to look you in the eye. “I’m so tired, Frankie. Work has been hell. I haven’t had any time to straighten up the apartment. And the weather isn’t helping…,” you trail off as your breathing hitches in your throat. He can see that you’re fighting off another wave of tears.

Frankie shakes his head slightly, cradling your cheek in his hand and wiping away the remains of your tears with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t worry about any of that. Why don’t we just get you a hot shower and then we can relax for the rest of the night? I’ll take care of cleaning up in the morning,” he tells you.

You finally smile then. It’s faint, but it’s there, and that’s all he can ask for right now. “Thank you, Cat,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The two of you head to the bathroom then, and at your request, Frankie joins you in the shower. You focus on your breathing as you stand under the hot spray, having to hold back soft noises of pleasure as he washes your hair and massages the knots in your shoulders. The longer you stand there, the heavier your eyelids become, and by the time the water is turned off and Frankie is wrapping you in a towel, you’re ready to fall asleep and not wake up for at least a few days.

He holds you to his bare, damp chest, a soft laugh rumbling there as you let him take most of your weight. You don’t make any effort to move. You don’t have the energy to.

Laughing a little harder, Frankie scoops you up bridal style, carrying you back to the bedroom. He gives you a pair of underwear and one of his t-shirts to wear, and once you’re both dressed, he pulls back the covers for you, smiling softly as you climb under the sheets.

You let out a soft breath as you settle into the mattress, only moving as the bed dips and Frankie joins you. You roll over, right into his open arms. Warm and secure in his arms, you’re more at ease than you have been all week. You’re thankful that he understands you as well as he does, that he’s willing to be so patient and indulgent when you need him most. He’s a blessing that you’re not sure what you did to deserve, but grateful for nonetheless.

“Goodnight, Frankie,” you mumble around a yawn, closing your eyes and nuzzling closer to his chest, “I love you.”

“Night, baby. I love you too,” he replies softly, brushing the damp strands of hair away from your eyes and pressing a kiss to your temple. You’re out cold just moments later, and Frankie smiles triumphantly to himself. He’ll do more when the morning comes, making sure that you have a good breakfast before work and a clean apartment to come home to tomorrow evening. But for now, he’s just glad that you’re getting the rest that you need. For now, you’re happy and content. That’s all he can ask for.

Permanent Tags: @bestintheparsec @hail-doodles @aerynwrites @murdermewithbooks @themandjalorian @longitud-de-onda @readsalot73 @lovingtheway @talesfromtheguild @mystical-934 @tiffdawg @lokiaddicted @adikaofmandalore @blue-tidal-wave @forever-rogue @acomplicatedprofession @fleurdemiel145 @cable-kenobi @opheliaelysia @pynch-bug @pedropascalito @creamysacrilege @bandofmarvels @paryl @phoenixhalliwell @agentmoonshine1 @randomness501 @starlight-starwrites @keeper0fthestars @stilllivindue2spite @hdlynn @theocatkov @coonflix @synystersilenceinblacknwhite

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Text

A/N: Iwaizumi domestic AU!! I am here to quench your Iwaizumi Hajime father-of-three thirsts.

On another note: Haikyuu manga ends today :(( Guess who’s gonna fucking DIE. Anyways, this manga has left so much of an impact to me, I feel like it’s already imprinted in my heart. Thank you so much to Furudate for making such a wonderful story, and may their stories flourish! I’ll still make content though, I’m really waiting on that new light novel and the second cour of the anime pspsspsps 👁👁

ménage. | iwaizumi hajime episode 1 – haimish.

summary: in which your oldest son is about to begin elementary school, but your husband misplaces the documents while in a frenzy.

word count: 2215

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(adj.) homey; cozy and unpretentious

At seven and four, Kazuki and Isao were at the age where they couldn’t keep their messy doodles confined into the sketchbooks you’d bought for them.

The first victim to their mischief was the wall in the kitchen beside the door leading to your backyard. It was a small parade of animals, with streamers and party hats. Tiger-san with his jagged crown, the dainty family of rabbits, and the hefty Bear-san (“No, Mommy! That’s Cat-san!” your second oldest had huffed indignantly at the clutter of crayon circles) who was at the very front of the entire crew. Your boys were lucky enough that it had been you who’d walked into their little streak of artistry. An understanding glance had been enough, seeing that you probably weren’t so different back then. You’d clean it up with a secret trick your mother had taught you and everything in the Iwaizumi household was back in business. Easy-peasy.

But had it been Hajime who’d encountered their mess... let’s just say you wouldn’t hear the end of the boys’ shrill wails until the next week.

Unfortunately for you and your trusty washcloth, Kazuki and Isao’s artistic escapades didn’t stop at the kitchen wall. Next, it was the floors, the windows of the entrance and even on the door to your bedroom (with a side of elephant stickers that you’d admit were pretty cute). Thus, it didn’t take very long for your husband to finally be faced by their “little” temperament. And not very long for the boys to be faced by their father’s wrath.

But there was simply a stubborn rock settled somewhere in your sons’ heads—they get it from Hajime, you’d kept telling yourself—and for simply the reason of being boys in their early youths, they kept on drawing. Everywhere. Anywhere.

At least the both of you were thankful enough for Hina-chan. Still a tiny ball of warmth curled up cozily against in your arms, Hina was the youngest and the only daughter in your modest family of five. And the least likely source of your daily hurdles.

“By the time Hina learns to hold a pencil, should we just introduce our home as an art gallery or something?” Hajime had asked you rather comically after seeing the colorful family portrait Isao had drawn in one of his reference books.

Though Kazuki, your first child, was completely aware of his responsibilities as an older brother, it was concerning enough that he still hadn’t let go of his childishness. He was seven now, and in a few months, delving into April, he’d be in first grade. Maybe he was simply rowdy in nature... who knows? With a gruff husband like Iwaizumi Hajime, anything was possible.

Elementary school... you pondered, gazing softly at your family in the living room. Hajime cradling Hina in one arm while he and the boys cheered wildly at the service ace that was displayed on TV. How exciting.

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“Remember to ask for ‘Ichimura-sensei’, alright? She was the teacher I talked to when Kazuki and I checked the school. She’ll know the details I asked her about in the last meeting so you just have to give her the application form.”

Hajime suppressed a chuckle at your adamant ramble. “You’ve only been telling me this all week. I won’t forget, you know.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, bouncing your sleeping daughter in your arms. “I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong. This is our firstborn we’re talking about.”

“Trust me, Y/N,” he smiled. “It’ll be fine.”

You could only nod quietly. Was it the maternal instinct within you that was acting up? It all felt too soon, too quick. If you blinked, Kazuki would’ve already gotten married already... You weren’t ready for that.

But the least you could do was get used to the changes that were going to happen around the house. Starting with this.

“You’ve brought the form with you, right? You didn’t forget it?”

You felt bad that your husband was being held up at the entrance to your little home, but it couldn’t hurt to be just slightly careful. Unclasping his bag, he scrabbled through it, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve put it in a folder here last night, so there’s no way it would—Eh?”

More rummaging.

“Hajime, is everything alright?”

He was pulling things out of his bags now. 2000-yen bills, crumpled receipts, his packets of protein shakes, Hina’s diapers. But no application form. Nothing.

“I-It’s not there.”

“Huh?!”

“H-Hold on, I’ll check our bedroom,” his voice was in the least reassuring tone he could muster and you felt your heart drop a million feet into the ground.

Why would this happen now of all times? The document was already filled and sealed with your inkan*, payments documented, crucial information written on that single sheet of paper. Crucial information you couldn’t afford to fill in twice... and it was missing?

You really didn’t want to think about how today was the last day to submit applications—

“Kazuki!!” Hajime’s thunderous voice cut through the silence.

A tiny echo of pattering footsteps and Hina shifted against your chest but did not wake. You were thankful enough; anymore ruckus and your sanity would snap.

Yawning, your eldest scratched his dark bedhead and sauntered over to his father who fisted a sheet of paper in his hand. “Daddy, you’re too loud...”

Putting the paper onto full display, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at what was on it.

Had the form always been so... colorful? You could barely see any writing on it, covered by the persistent doodles your son had scrawled over. Mixes of hiragana he’d been practicing, completed with small side drawings—Anpanman*, some horses and a purple paddy field. All in all: it was a mess. But it was clearly the form you’d filled in. And it was clearly Kazuki’s mess.

Hajime scowled, the space between his eyebrows wrinkling. “Did you do this?”

“...No.”

“Well it couldn’t be Isao or Hina, couldn’t it?” he seethed. “Don’t take me for an idiot. Isao’s been having playdates all week and Hina can’t draw yet. What did I tell you about drawing outside of the papers and books we gave you, huh?!”

“B-But I was just trying to help!” Kazuki exclaimed. “You and Mommy are always so busy taking care of papers. So I thought if I helped you write in it... you’d come and play with me again.”

Suddenly, a lump rose in your throat. You were always so busy taking care of Hina and Isao and their immeasurable demands, and your husband was either at work or out playing volleyball with the neighborhood team. You wondered how lonely it was for him the entire week you were taking care of the registrations.

How lonely it was, despite being surrounded by so much people.

Your husband, however, was completely unfazed. “Go to your room.”

“But Daddy, it’s not—!”

“Kazuki.” Each syllable he drew out sent a shiver down your spine. In a split second, the Iwaizumi household’s living room grew cold. “Go. To. Your. Room! Put your arms above your head and keep it that way until I come back!”

As if on cue, the waterworks emerged.

“I hate you, Daddy! I hate you! You never listen to me!” and that was the last thing you heard from the tear-streaked boy before he stumbled through the hallway, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

“...Mmn,” Hina roused, her tiny button nose flaring, and you instantly knew what was to come. Oh no...

Sighing in defeat, your husband crossed his arms and ambled back towards you and the bawling baby in your embrace. Pressing your lips together, you mumbled to him. “You could’ve been a bit nicer to Kazuki. Now look what happened.”

“He’ll never learn his lesson if I don’t get strict,” he said, the guilt crossing his eyes. Swimming. Settling. “I’m going to go ahead to the school before they close for the day. Ask if they’ve got anymore forms I can fill in there.”

You nodded, hands coming to rub gently against your daughter’s back as your husband kissed your forehead—a daunting ritual you did before whenever he left the house.

Then, he bent down to softly coo at the red-faced infant. “Hina-chan, how about a kiss for Daddy before I go?”

The result: Hina only cried louder. Repelled by the sudden change in volume, Hajime scratched the back of his neck remorsefully.

“I get it, I get it... I’m the bad guy today,” he rustled. “I guess I’ll be off now. I’ll leave the house in your care, Y/N.”

You smiled at him, your hard-working husband with a weak spot for your little family. “Be careful, Hajime-kun.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, you were left to your terror again. A crying seven-year old, a crying baby, and if all the noise were to wake up Isao from his afternoon nap... Geez, what a mess...

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Hajime really felt like he knew this guy somewhere... High school? A volleyball match? That refreshing aura wasn’t really difficult to tell apart, either...

“You’re number 2 from Karasuno High, ain’tcha?”

“Uwaah... Seijoh’s Iwaizumi Hajime...” Sugawara twinkled, the grey cowlick on his head standing up straight. “The atmosphere of an powerful ace really is hard to miss.”

Hajime blushed. When was the last time someone called him a ‘powerful ace’? He had you to call him that whenever you were feeling nostalgic, but otherwise, that label was a shard of the past.

“Sugawara-san, right?” he recalled. “You work here at this school?”

The man chuckled. “Yep! I’m a teacher now. How about you, Iwaizumi-san? What are you up to here?”

“Oh, I’m looking for Ichimura-sensei. I want to talk to her about the registration for my son.”

Sugawara shook his head for a moment before replying.

“Unfortunately, Ichimura-sensei is out with the flu. That’s why I’m covering the weekend shift for her. You can just give the forms to me, and we can look over the terms and conditions.”

What luck, Hajime thought. But at least having this guy around wasn’t going to be as bad of an experience.

“Ah... about that...” he started. “My kid drew all over the application form and I don’t remember making any copies. So, would it be a problem if I did it again right now? Me and my wife are in a bit of a tough spot at the moment.”

By the grace of God, Sugawara said, “I don’t think it’d be a issue. Let’s go to the office and discuss it together. Before that, can I ask for your ID, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Ah, yeah, sure, let me just get my wallet...” filing through his bag, Hajime rifled through the stacks of paper, looking... searching... And when he got to his wallet: “Huh?”

There it was. The application-payment form he’d filled in last week, in its pristine glory. And with absolutely zero drawings on it. There was his family seal and everything. Down to both of your signatures, in the blue ink you’d insisted on using (Hajime never really bothered to make out the different uses of different inks).

“The form...” he muttered. “It must’ve slipped from the folder or something. Then that means the one at home was probably a copy...”

Freezing, Hajime realized. Crap. What have I done?

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

By the time Hajime got home, the house was already quiet again. Isao and Hina were asleep in your bedroom—Hina in her crib and Isao laid spread-eagle on the limited expanse of your queen-size bed. Taking the opportunity of a silent home, you decided to use the time you had to eat some sweets you’d secretly stashed in the fridge away from your children’s eyes.

“What a ravenous wife,” he’d teased, only for you to smear a dollop of whipped cream across his face in retaliation.

It didn’t take him long to realize the muffled sobbing from Kazuki’s room had subsided too. Curiosity getting the best of him, your husband stepped inside the danger zone.

Hajime always thought that Kazuki was a peaceful sleeper. He could sleep anywhere and still look like he was having the time of his life. During times like this, where Hajime was drained empty at the end of the day, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of his son.

Gingerly picking him up from the carpeted floors, Hajime rested Kazuki’s head on the crook of his broad shoulder, his gentle breathing blowing faint breezes next to his nape. Looking down at the smattering of papers on the ground, he reached down to read one that Kazuki had presumably written right before he was knocked out cold.

I’m really sorree Sorry Daddy :( I promise to never draw on your things ever again. Kazuuki

Below the large lopsided text he’d written in crayon was a smudged drawing of (what seemed) to be him. Well, if Hajime was a stickman with prominent eyebrows that stuck out of his face.

“I’m sorry too, kid. Guess I was being unfair, huh?” he murmured. “I’ll make it up to you once you wake up. We’ll all play together. Me, you, Isao, Hina and your mom. We’ll use as much time as we have left.”

And Hajime never backed down on a promise.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Glossary:

inkan - personalized seals used in lieu of signatures in paperwork

anpanman - a Japanese children’s superhero cartoon character, looks like this

#bruh haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #domestic au #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #seijoh x reader #aoba johsai x reader #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime scenario #sfw #hajime x reader

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screensirenfic · 3 years

Text

A Curse On Your Name - Chapter 5 - Special Grade

“The respective Grade of a Cursed Spirit or Cursed Spirit User is demonstrative of the power they are able to yield, and therefore signify how difficult it will be to defeat and/or exorcise them in battle…”

Masamichi’s voice droned out like a drill sergeant’s as he gave them a crash course on Spirit Grade Levels with added illustrations on the classroom chalkboard.

“The Grade levels range from a lowly Grade 4 - a simple spirit that should be easily defeated with basic tools and knowledge…”

He continued to teach, using his long bamboo cane as a pointing stick to point to the detailed illustration of a Fly Head beneath the level Grade 4.

“To an unranked Special Grade; which should only be engaged with by the most senior and experienced of Sorcerers-“

Her father said, now pointing to a multi-armed, multi-eyed Sorcerer beneath the warning ‘SPECIAL GRADE - DO NOT ENGAGE’

“But Sir; what about those of us who are already ranked at Special Grade?”

Interrupted Saturo with what could’ve been a well-meaning question, if not for the smug look on his face.

“Even a naturally talented Sorcerer may come to struggle facing off against a Special Grade without the appropriate experience…”

Her father replied, not fazed in the slightest by Saturo’s apparent arrogance in the classroom.

“Even one as talented as you; Saturo Gojo.”

He added on for good measure, before turning back to his chalkboard for his regularly scheduled teaching.

As interested as Mikasama was in learning all about Curses and what it took to defeat them, she herself was far more occupied with the scratchiness of her school uniform; the fabric clearly not chosen with comfort in mind.

She’d heard you could get it customised so it was more to your taste, but she hardly thought that extended to a whole new fabric design-

“Psst…”

Her thoughts were interrupted by Geto; the dark haired boy sat in the row in front trying his best to get her attention without disrupting the class, before flicking over a small scrap of paper that landed on her desk.

She picked up the paper, quite surprised it was rather neatly folded into a star, though she guessed she should’ve known a guy as clean cut as him would be into origami.

“Open it…”

He hissed through the corner of his mouth; the boy quite good at hiding his words behind a quick cough, and she wasted no time in unfolding the delicate structure to see what was within.

“Sorry about Gojo - he’s a bit of an ass”

He’d added a little doodle of his sunglasses wearing roommate below with the caption ‘THE GREAT SATURO GOJO’ scribbled above; the crudeness of the drawing a stark contrast to the neatness of his handwriting.

She restrained a giggle behind her hand, very aware their Sensei would not take things easy on her just because she was his daughter, before pulling out her own pen to reply.

“Don’t worry - it’s not your fault his head is so big; I can’t see the board.”

She wrote, before hastily folding it up in a much less tidy triangle, flicking it Paper-Football style onto his desk, the boy catching it in his palm and unfolding it behind the safety of his kimono-style sleeve.

She watched as his keen dark eyes scanned over the paper, his hand not quite fast enough to catch the snort that came out of his nose in response.

“Is everything alright; Seguro-san?”

Her father asked, stopping his lesson on the interruption of the normally collected boy’s outburst; Geto quickly hiding his laughter behind a well timed coughing fit.

“Yes… *ehem* - Just had something in my throat…”

Geto replied, the boy once more the picture of composure as he skilfully hid the note in the palm of his hand, their antics going unnoticed as Masamichi returned his focus to his lesson.

“As I was saying; a Sorcerer’s Grade is not directly proportionate to that of a Curse’s…”

Masamichi began to drone on; Geto flashing her a small conspiratorial smirk that made his eyes crunch up like a cat’s.

“For example; a Sorcerer at Grade 2 is actually more on par with a Grade 1 Curse in terms of Cursed Energy and combat ability…”

Mikasama attempted to concentrate on her father’s lecture, picking up her pen with full intention on making notes, only for another note to land on her desk.

She picked it up; this one screwed up in a messy looking ball that seemed too scruffy for the elegant hands of Geto, her nimble fingers flattening out the creases to read what was written inside:

“LOOK UP ^”

She read the letters in a bold, messy hand; an oafishly crude drawing of her fuming father beneath; her eyes following the long length of the arrow above, only to be met with the real thing staring back at her.

“Mikasama; I trust that you’re not passing notes in my class..?”

Her fath- Yaga-Sensei asked her; the question more of a reprimand as he looked over her desk, his brows lowered into an accusatory scowl that made deep wrinkles appear on his forehead.

“No- Of course not-!”

She replied; eyes unintentionally flickering to Geto, only to find him with his head down, focusing on his work.

But if he hadn’t; then who-

“I’ll take that-!”

Sensei-Yaga snapped, snatching the creased note from her hand, before crumpling it up in his palm without so much as a look.

With her and Geto’s fun ruined, her eyes scanned the classroom to find who could’ve betrayed them-

Saturo Gojo!

The smug white-haired boy was staring straight at her; fingers wiggling mockingly at her as he stuck out his tongue, Mikasama quickly deciding she’d like to knock his dumb glasses right off his stupid pretty face.

———————————————

“I’m sorry, but could someone explain what the hell a Curse is?”

Asked Yuji as the three of them ran at full sprint back towards Yuji’s High School, the pink-haired teenager keeping a surprisingly good pace beside them - probably a track star in the making.

“A Curse is the amalgamation of all the fear and bad energy that humans feel, that takes on the form of terrible monsters…”

She explained to the kid in the most basic form, deciding to keep mysticism and magic out of it for the sake of brevity.

“Monsters?! Like real monsters.?!

Yuji repeated the word back to them with equal parts awe and disbelief; the boy either extremely open minded or extremely gullible.

“More like Spirits, but for all intents and purposes; yes, monsters…!”

Snapped Megumi; the surly goth kid clearly running out of patience with their tag-along.

“And these monsters are dangerous?”

Yuji asked the obvious; the roof of Susuwa High finally visible in the distance as they rounded the corner of the street.

“Yes!”

Both her and Megumi replied in unison; both entirely in disbelief that they were having to give a Jujutsu Sorcery crash course in an emergency situation.

“Okay; so how do we stop them..?”

Yuji asked as they reached the school’s gates; the boy clearly intending to come with them to rescue his friends.

“You don’t. You are going to stay outside where it’s safe, whilst we go inside and perform an exorcism…”

She replied; making it loud and clear that there wasn’t room for tourists on this trip as she readied herself to climb over the gate leading to the school grounds.

“What.?! But my friends are in there!”

Protested Yuji; the kid’s nobility almost cute, if not for the very real risk of death on the other side of that gate.

“Sorry; but this fight is for professionals only…”

Shrugged Megumi, before following her over the fence and into battle, leaving a disgruntled Yuji behind to play lookout.

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.12

a/n: it begins >:)

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @demursv1ogs @chrisrue15 @beanst0ck @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 13

Time flew by so fast in this dimension. Now that you were well adjusted and loving the new life here, it had not dawned on you that 7 months had already passed. Things were moving smoothly and pleasantly.

“Here you go.” Akaashi handed you a snack bar. The two of you (well maybe three if Bokuto is included) were practically inseparable. The team had finally managed to pin the both of you down and confirm that you two were indeed dating. “Did you sleep well?”

Walking to school was still a thing both of you did. Except this time, fingers were intertwined and barely any distance between the both of you. The only time you two let go was when the school gates were near. Still, walking down the hallways, Akaashi made sure to always brush his fingers with yours.

“I did!” You pulled him in to kiss his cheek. The small smile he gave you still made your stomach butterflies flutter. “I did have a weird dream last night. You and Bokuto-san switched personalities. Seeing you do his ‘HEY HEY HEY’ was just so wrong on all levels.”

“Is there a quirk that can do that?”

At this point in time, you barely relied on your quirk. The feeling of accomplishing things without it’s aid was much more satisfying. Of course, Akaashi still reaped its healing benefits and took note of how his stamina had improved.

“High chances. If we can have a washing machine as a pro-hero, then there’s bound to be a quirk swapping quirk.”

“A washing machine?” He brushed his thumb on the corner of your lip to wipe off a crumb. “Even now, your world still surprises me.”

“It’s great if you hear it.” Leaning on his shoulder, you tightened your hold on his hand. “Living in it is a completely different story. It’s been, what, 7 months since I arrived here and I am more than content with not having to rely on my quirk.”

“What about your combat skills? Shouldn’t you still be sharpening them?”

“I wish I could.” That was true, though. “I’m pretty much useless at 30%. Even if I wanted to lift boulders or shit, I have to maintain at least 40%. The difference is small but the output is huge. I don’t get my quirk’s logic.”

“Well, it’s still early.” The gates were now in sight but he refused to let go of your hand. “I’m pretty sure you can work on your quirk. The others won’t arrive within 30 minutes.”

“It’s been 5 months and you’re still curious to see how I fight?” You giggled.

“Yes.” He nodded. “If my girlfriend trained to be a hero, I’d love to see how you move.”

“Well, you made that sound sexy~” You nudged his elbow. “Think we can have a little action before we head to the gym?”

“It’s 6:30am, (y/n). It’s too early for that.” He teased. Yet his steps were a little faster than before. “But, I guess I can’t oppose the idea.”

The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall as Akaashi hungrily kissed you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers found themselves coming through his hair. Pinning you even more, Akaashi’s hand undid your ribbon and unbuttoned the first two. Letting go of your lips, he trailed kisses from your cheek down to the crook of your neck.

As he was softly sucking on your skin, you loosened his tie and undid the two buttons as well. Tugging his hair, you were face to face with him again. Lust filled eyes staring back into yours. Leaning in, you gently kissed his lips before returning the favor. Activating your quirk, Akaashi felt his feet leave the ground. Knowing what you were about to do, he could feel you turning the both of you around.

Skillfully placing the both of you on the floor, Akaashi leaned on the wall as his hands began to roam higher and higher up your skirt. Having you straddle him this early in the morning was rather pleasant in all aspects. Tilting his head a bit, he gave you much easier access and felt you sucking on his skin a little harsher this time.

“Make sure it’s hidden under the collar.” He managed to whisper. Hickeys were a common thing to have both your bodies. He smirked at how your only response was a nod.

Caressing your cheek, he admired the way your face glowed even more. Pulling you in softly for another kiss, he felt his stomach fluttering when you smiled.

“We should probably head to the lockers now.”

“Fine.”

“We can continue this in my room later.” He whispered before kissing you deeply.

“Counting the hours~”

Moments later, you were now pumping air into some volleyballs. Morning practice for today would only take an hour so there was plenty of time to freshen up before the homeroom. Now that the gym was packed with your boys, you rolled out the volleyball cart and positioned it beside the net.

Everyone was now used to having you as a ball girl. In fact, some of them even tried to challenge you by purposely hitting the ball too hard or too low. With your hero training, it was nothing but a walk in the park. You did notice, however, that your body began to sweat a bit more. The after effects of not using your quirk for a long time was showing.

Nothing bad happens, though. Just panting and sweating.

“Aghkaashe!” Bokuto yelled. “Can you and (y/n)-chan help with my math later?”

“I don’t mind. What about you, (y/n)?”

“Sure thing~” You approached your two favorite boys. “Bokuto-senpai, how well did you do on your previous quiz?”

The captain’s golden eyes sparkled.

“HAHAHA! Thanks to you both, I managed to get a 32/50! Whatdya think?!” He punched the air and grinned widely. When the both of you applauded he began to jump up and down while shouting his trademark.

“Calm down, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi tried to stop him from jumping up and down. His friend obeyed and gave a cheeky thumbs up.

“God, I love you both so much~” You giggled at their exchange.

“But you love Ahkaashi more, don’t you (y/n)-chan?” Bokuto added as he shouldered Akaashi. This time, his deadpan face was holding a soft smile.

“Of course!”

When Konoha’s alarm sounded, each of you began to clean up and prepare for the rest of the day. With how often you did it, it had now become second nature to you. Yukie and Kaori even admitted that you adapted much faster than they had anticipated. Once all of you were now freshened up, the gym was locked once more and each player looked forward for the after school practice.

“Exams are approaching.” Akaashi said as he let you step into the classroom first. “Have you prepared your notes?”

“I did. But, you do remember that the subjects you have here are way too easy for me, right?” Placing your bag on your desk, you took a seat and faced Akaashi. “Shall we study in your room or mine?”

“we can take turns.” Now that he was seated, he fished out one of his notebooks and placed it on his desk. Not that it was needed, it merely became one of his habits. Watching as you dragged your chair closer to him, he offered you a pen and flipped the notebook open.

“So, what do you want me to draw?” This had become one of your recent traditions. Before the start of homeroom, Akaashi noticed how you liked to doodle on his notebooks. Deciding that a special one was needed, he took the liberty of buying a blank journal for you to fill with whatever it is you saw fit.

“Hmm, I recall you saying that you designed your own hero costume.” He saw how your eyes lit up. “May i see what it looked like?”

Starting the sketch, you began to draw a figure and dressed it with your costume.

“So, my costume isn’t flashy unlike the others.” You explained. “A quirk like mine doesn’t really need a lot of support items so I went with mobility and comfort. I decided that simplicity was key. Just the normal jacket, shirt, pants, and boots. The only support item I had were my gloves.”

Sketching your gloves, Akaashi couldn’t help but adore just how focused you were. Tucking in a loose strand of hair, he felt the butterflies in his stomach churning once again as the corners of your mouth formed a smile and your cheeks turning a faint hue of pink.

“What do your gloves do?” They looked like standard fingerless gloves.

“The material was specifically designed to aid in manipulating my quirk. It concentrates the energy I release and wraps around my hand. Sorta like a human torch~” It was a bit difficult to explain how it worked knowing you didn’t listen to the man who gave you the item. As long as it aided you, it was fine.

“What were Todoroki-kun’s support items?”

“Shoto’s support items were mostly temperature regulators. Wristbands and a big one he wears like a backpack to help even him out.” You drew his support items rather well.

“Can you try to sketch Todorki-kun’s face?” Letting you draw your friends was something he wasn’t so comfortable with. Not for that reason of course. He merely assumed that it would be a sensitive topic knowing the circumstances of how you arrived in his world. When you giggled, he tilted his head.

“About time you asked~” Beginning to draw your childhood friend, you continued. “I honestly wouldn’t mind drawing my friends for you, ya know? There’s no way I can introduce you to them so sketching them would be the best alternative.”

“I’m sorry.” He held on to your free hand. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfy.”

“You never make me uncomfy. Keiji~”

It was a quick sketch of half and half but a good one. He squinted his eye when he took note of the scar. He had heard of Tokoyami and Mina, but this one merely showed a boy about his age with a nasty burn on his face.

“Shoto’s got one helluva back story.” Your thumb began to brush Akaashi’s knuckles. “That scar was given to him by his mum when he was around 5 or 6 years old. It’s sad but he grew to accept it and is now healing.”

“You were engaged before, right?”

“For a while, yeah.” You handed him back the pen and closed the sketchpad. The bell had now rung and right on time, the teacher entered the room. Just as she was relaying a message, you were rummaging in your bag for a notebook.

“Please introduce yourselves~” The teacher said.

“Bakugo Katsuki”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

- - - - -

a/n: sooo... what yall gonna do now? :’)

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x bnha

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oopsabird · 3 years

Note

Do you know of any masterposts of things to do to cheer up. I got triggered by something earlier today and I'm struggling and I'm not in a place where "validating words" help

Hi anon. I’m sorry to hear you’re not having a great day. I don’t tend to usually operate as an advice blog (and am not planning to start), but I do also LOVE giving advice, and while I don’t have a masterpost, I think I have some tips that may help you out.

My go-to process when I need to make my brain switch emotional tracks from a state of distress is usually a combination of one or more of these three strategies:

1) I do a Five Things Countdown or other mental centering exercise.

You can find the instructions right here. Sometimes I replace the “one thing you can taste” observation with an affirmation that is counter to my feelings of distress, such as making myself list “one thing that made me smile this week” or “one thing I like about myself” or “one thing I am proud of about myself”.

Take your time, give each observation a few seconds to really sink in, and practice deep, measured breathing while you do so.

Going into a little mental descriptive detail about the objects you observe can also help it feel more concrete (ex: “I see a vase, it is blue with green spirals on it, and holds eight pink flowers and five white ones”), and really slow the world down and ground you to it.

2) I journal out my thoughts or how I am feeling.

I have an actual journal notebook for this, but you can also use the Notes app on your phone, a word doc, a random piece of paper, whatever. The most important thing is to not censor yourself and to simply unload this train of thought you can’t stop having into an external space, which helps process it.

Don’t let shame govern what you write during this exercise — nobody ever has to read these thoughts but you.

If you want, you can then symbolically dispose of the thoughts by ripping up the page, deleting the note, etc, if it makes you feel better. Can be very cathartic!

3) Finally, I put on some kind of audio or visual media which makes me laugh or smile.

This is the “cheer me up” stage. Sometimes I will just skip right to this step if I need an IMMEDIATE mood intervention. The audio/visual nature of this is important for me personally because I find it helps to choose something that is going to play itself out without needing any effort or active engagement on my part — I can just sit there and it happens.

My personal go-to’s for this purpose are upbeat music, standup comedy (especially old favourites that reliably make me laugh every time, like John Mulaney’s special The Comeback Kid, or his Salt & Pepper Diner bit), or my favourite top-tier side-splitting Vine compilations. You will know best what is funny to you personally, however I personally ALWAYS at least chuckle a little at this nonsense (cw: shouting).

The intent with this step is that now that you have centered yourself and processed your thoughts, you want to distract and kick-start your brain into moving on to a different emotional state. In my experience, laughter in particular is GREAT for that, because it creates all kinds of endorphins and it’s hard to think of anything else when laughing your ass off. If you decide to go with upbeat music, consider giving in to the urge to dance should it arise!

If you feel up to it, do some colouring, doodling, or some other kind of physical task while this is happening, to better engage your hands/body and the rest of your brain (cooking food and cleaning stuff is good for this, as are stim toys or physical exercise). Do this “audio-visual stimulation” step for as long as it takes to shift your mood or occupy your time until sleep.

Bonus item: having music on throughout the first two steps can really help to fill the space between your thoughts with something ongoing that has a set emotional tone. That tone can be whatever you feel like you need during this time (stuff that makes you sad, stuff that makes you happy, whatever!).

Anyway, I hope this helps, Anon! 💜

This is just my personal set of what I’ve found to be the most effective quick-intervention strategies. Followers, what do you use to shift yourself out of a crummy emotional state?

PS: When it comes to longer-term responses to Bad Days that are good to have in your back pocket, I’d like to talk a bit about my Baseline Recovery checklist that I made. However, that will make a long post even longer, so I will put that part under the cut for those who are interested.

This is a checklist that I made, which I activate on days when I realize that whatever plans I had for the day have been thrown off-track by one kind of depressive spiral or another. You know, the days where you just feel like a lethargic grimy slug, and realize you haven’t moved or looked up from your phone in six hours, and everything is Garbage but it feels like you can’t get out of that cycle bc you haven’t done any self-care all day? I call that fugue state “Slug Mode”. ADHD brain tricks me into it all the time, especially during the pandemic! Often enough that I decided to make an escape plan for it.

The Baseline Recovery list is designed to step-by-step build me back up to a semi-functional state, by starting with small, simple tasks which are also the most essential for my wellbeing, and then building towards more complex objectives. The goal is to “recover to a healthy baseline state”, hence the title.

Each step puts me in a better space to accomplish the step after it — for example, having water to drink allows me to take my meds, and eating literally anything will give me the energy to get up and do some basic personal hygiene. They build on top of each other like a pyramid.

Even if I only complete two or three steps before going back into Slug Mode, I will still be better off physically and mentally than when I hadn’t done any of the steps at all. That’s why I broke “hygiene” and “food” down into two levels — the first level of each one is very basic “survival mode” stuff, and is based on prioritizing fuel for my body and basic physical comfort/cleanliness, while the second levels are more energy-intensive and “optional”, but have long-term benefits. Even if I don’t manage to shower, brushing my teeth and taking a piss and wiping my face with a baby wipe are still important wins. And even if I don’t consume a single vegetable in this whole process, eating the Pringles from my bedside drawer will still give me more calories to fuel me than I had in my body before.

I also allow myself to skip Sleep, Healthy Food and Level 2 hygiene and go right to Make A Task List if this is the kind of day where time demands we speedrun things, or if I know that I am only going to have the energy for very very basic self-care today and will overwhelm myself by trying something harder. And that’s fine! The point of the list is to ease myself gradually back into the steps of existing. I give myself grace and I am patient with myself.

It doesn’t have to look like this, but I would recommend taking some time when you are in a “good” mental state and writing out a plan you can put into action when you need to bounce back from a bad day. Your list might include steps for mindfulness or emotion management, or anything else you find is any important part of getting your groove back. I have mine laminated and keep it on my bedside table, so that it’s within arm’s reach when I need it. Perhaps a pocket index card, or a note on your phone, might be a more useful format to you!

Trying to plan your way out of a bad mental state when you’re in the middle of it can feel like you’re Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill, only to have it roll back down on him. Having a plan ahead of time that you can put into action on autopilot with minimal effort is a lifesaver, would definitely recommend!

Again, I hope this was helpful to you, and I hope your day improves, or that tomorrow is better for you. 💜

#long post #asks #anon #self-care #mental health #depression #adhd adventures #most of these are strategies I learned from therapists or constructed myself using what I learned from the therapists #anyway i hope this very long post helps you out a bit!! and anyone else who needs it

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

Text

i don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do

#12: I can't stop thinking about you, #22: Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and #28: I have never felt this way about anyone

Jealous! Amy and brand new relationship-Peraltiago

Also: Do I need to make a statement saying that Amy obviously isn't the kind of person to think she owns anyone, but means it well and in an endearing way? There you go.

Enjoy!

Read here or on AO3

It had all gone down in a spur of the moment-kind of moment that no one, even less Amy, had seen coming and honestly would’ve preferred to be without. It wasn’t really her place to say or do what she did, nor even as much as react upon it, alas… she did; she was in so deep with Jake Peralta and so she did it anyways.

Said moment had gone down during a weekend spent in Hartford, Connecticut, where the squad had attended a two day-seminar hosted by their brothers and sisters in the HPD.

Since the drive to Hartford was one of two hours, plus the seminar took place Saturday through Sunday, the squad had huddled together in two cars and were spending the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday, north of their respective homes in Brooklyn.

Immediately from the moment they arrived at the the hotel slash conference venue where the seminar was to be held everything seemed to set the scene for a pretty smooth, perhaps even fun, weekend where the squad would get to be entertained by other things that the wondering of why they weren’t at home on a weekend.

No one on the squad had any kind of expectations for the unknown city, except Holt who mentioned The Mark Twain House and Museum as a highly ranked point on his to be done-list, which meant their collective surprise upon exploring the city after checking into their rooms Friday afternoon was indeed positive enough for them to not hate the fact they were spending their weekend away from home doing work-related activities.

The very second the clock obnoxiously signalled 7 AM the following day, because not being home wasn’t an excuse, Amy Santiago was up and out of bed leaving Jake to regret, just for a tiny second, that he shared a room with his brand new paramour. It’d only been two weeks since coming to terms about “screw light and breezy”, and so far everything was smooth sailing although that morning was clearly an example of the two still figuring out this new dynamic of theirs.

“Ugh, can you stop being a decent person and get back in bed,” Jake groaned in pain when Amy without hesitance pulled aside the curtain to let in the bleak east coast-sun. If they’d been away on vacation in Mexico, even just as far as California, then maybe Jake would’ve accepted this. But there sure as hell was nothing less motivating than a sad barely there-sun hiding behind puffy clouds but still shining brightly enough to rip him out of his comfortable sleep. Especially when all there was to “look forward to”, quote Amy, was seminars; learning and powerpoint presentations that would haunt him in his next sleep.

“Stop whining and get up! The seminar starts at 8!” Amy hurried carelessly at him used to his many complaints of this childish nature. She didn’t let it take up too much of her time and had already moved on to grab clean clothes from her duffle bag to put on after her routine shower.

From where he had indeed not moved an inch Jake could hear the shower being turned on, door to the bathroom still open, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was exhausted from staying up just a bit too late watching stupid videos on his phone then he would’ve attempted to sneak into the steaming water with Amy because he could do that now… Insane.

On the other side of the shower curtain Amy had expected the same. There was very good reason why she’d added the little detail of leaving the door open and hoped would lure him out of bed. To her disappointment she quickly noticed her so-called sneaky plan was in vain leaving but one last attempt up her sleeve.

“Jake, the breakfast buffet closes at 7.30!” she called out momentarily turning off the shower to allow her to pick up on potential sounds which could indicate her victory.

Indeed the last attempt was the right one: seconds later she heard the sound of quick footsteps and the ruffling of what she guessed was clothing items before a messy-haired, baggy-eyed Jake stumbled into the bathroom stark naked and on the edge of out of breath. The way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, Amy though to herself amused.

“Mind if I join in real quick?” he smiled sheepishly trying his best to hide exhaustion.

All complaints and opposing to her morning ritual went down the drain with shower water the moment Amy turned it back on and smiled through biting down on her bottom lip.

Santiago: 1 - Peralta: 0

—

Perhaps Amy had twisted the truth just a tiny bit to get him out of bed so early. Jake figured this out when they 20 minutes later walked downstairs and saw a sign announcing that the first part of the seminar wasn’t scheduled for 8, like Amy had said, but rather 9 and buffet as well only closed an hour later than Amy’s information had told him. Lucky for her he was so infatuated that he let her off the hook with a playful jab to her sides and a comment about how she probably didn’t even want to date him but was simply a double-agent sent to improve his habits and lifestyle. This in return earned him a very familiar by now laugh, roll of this eyes and smile-combo: a combo he’d never get tired of and already felt like getting an eternal subscription to.

The seminar was okay, he guessed; either that or watching Amy furiously yet impressively neatly take notes with the speed of light beside him was enough to make it feel so. He was convinced of the latter when she afterwards with the brightest smile on her face showed him all the knowledge she’d managed to boil down to a few neatly organised pages in her notebook. It felt dangerous so early on in whatever they would turn out to be, yet also so very natural that in his world nothing was greater than the sight of Amy Santiago smiling at him. A sight he’d quickly grown addicted to already years back although without coming to terms with it until some months prior.

“Are you sticking around for the Q & A?” Amy interrupted his wandering thoughts whilst getting a new page in her notebook ready as a few people started leaving their seats and the conference room.

“Nah,” Jake shook his head honestly knowing that it would be lying to both himself and her if he tried to act like he genuinely cared about sticking around for an additional 30 minutes of re-explaining what he’d already spent 2 hours zoning in and out of. “I think I’ll head to the lounge. I’m feeling snacky.”

“Of course,” Amy smiled shaking her head in an evident manner. “See you at lunch then?”

“Yup,” he got out of his seat before adding a “see you at lunch, nerd,” accompanied by one last teasing smile before joining Rosa on her walk towards the exit. The comment combined with his soft brown eyes and warm smile was enough to have Amy feeling like a puddle of mush in her seat. To know that said brown eyes and warm smile were… hers? It felt weird to say or even just think it since they hadn’t officially declared themselves boyfriend/girlfriend but definitely were something; something not light and breezy; perhaps solid was the appropriate antithesis to use?

No matter what - light, breezy, solid or whatever they could be defined as - when her eyes trained after Jake walking off for just tiny bit longer than intended, Amy definitely noticed how a group of four women, colleagues, she assumed, sitting on the other side of the middle isle between her and them where Jake was walking chatted and giggled as their eyes switched back and forth between each other and Amy’s favorite partner. In spite of the fact that she was en excellent lipreader Amy, to her curiosity’s dismay, couldn’t exactly tell what these women were saying or giggling about however two things were certain: one was that they were in one way or another very interested in Jake, even after he’d left the room, and two was that Amy didn’t like it. An uneasy tightness formed in her stomach telling her so and she for the following 30 minutes of a Q & A she had looked forward to couldn’t focus enough to take any actual notes. All she was left with post Q & A were mindless doodles on an otherwise blank page which was both a waste of paper and but even worse of no good use for her knowledge.

The second the seminar was officially completely over which was everyone’s cue to leave for lunch, Amy did her best, notebook and pencil case held tightly to her chest, in an attempt to get as close to the giggly group of women from before as the room’s population walked out of the room in one big stream. Completely forgetting that she was supposed to meet up with the Jake and the others for lunch she automatically followed the four women to the hotel bar where they settled down - and so of course so did Amy simply opting for a few seats further down in conjunction with ordering herself a soda as to not attract herself any suspicion or attention.

“Oh my gosh, Sydney, you have to figure out who that guy from the seminar was!”

This definitely caught Amy’s attention, both to her pleasing and bitterness: pleasing because she’d been right about her gut-feeling and bitterness because that guy was her guy. Not whoever this Sydney was.

“Yeah, he was pretty cute right?” Who Amy guessed was Sydney, a tall, beautiful blonde clad in a nice pantsuit, Amy had to admit, answered just as enthusiastically.

“Totally! And since he’s here, probably, also a cop,” the same friend who had started the conversation chimed in and Amy wished to God she’d just shut up rather than stuff her friend’s head with bad ideas like hitting on Amy’s own guy.

“I smell work place-romance, ladies,” a third friend giggled riling the other’s up along with her. To them it was all a joke, fun, some kind of competition of cat and mouse but Amy, at her respective end of the bar, was feeling herself starting to boil, more than she’d like to admit, at the thought of someone else taking away from her what she’d just struggled for so long to obtain. It was her cute cop-guy from the seminar; her work-place romance; her… whatever! And also what kind of dumb name was Sydney even? Jake and Sydney? So dumb.

“I mean we are here for another entire day so I’ll have to make sure to run into him at some point. Tonight…” the tone of Sydney’s voice took on a sultry undertone that had Amy shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. “… wouldn’t be a bad time to run into him.” The smug smile on the blonde’s face had Amy feeling like punching it right off of her.

As if on cue, like timing couldn’t have been any worse, friend number four made her presence be known and squealed with excitement while pointing which of course immediately earned herself the three other’s full attention. “Girls! There he comes! Right there!”

Within seconds all four girls heads snapped to the side with wide hungry eyes reminding Amy of what a flock of vultures looked like prior to ripping apart an animal cadaver in a documentary she’d watched a few days ago.

Vulture-like or not, Amy’s head was included in this collective redirecting of focus and followed the direction in which the friend had pointed to.

And there he was indeed: Jake Peralta, clad in his navy blue long-sleeved NYPD-shirt and freshly cut hair with the tiniest hint at a beginning forehead curl, was walking into the lounge that very moment seemingly looking around for someone and also completely unaware of the people watching him as his entrance seems to unfold in slow-motion. Amy almost couldn’t blame the girls for drooling because the cocky detective looked really good walking into the room completely oblivious to the attention he’d brought upon himself.

“Damn… He looks even cuter than what I remembered. I have to give it a try, don’t I?” Sydney questioned, obviously rhetorically already knowing what she wanted as she almost drooled like an agitated Doberman.

“I mean if you won’t, Sydney, then I will!” the friend who’d noticed Jake enter the room playfully challenged, and even though it was all fun and games to them, Amy felt like her seat was on fire making it almost impossible to stay passive and seated for much longer.

“Oh, hell no. Stay away from him. This one’s mine, Jasmin!”

There was no telling if the line had already been crossed multiple inappropriate remarks ago and she’d managed by the grace of God to stay seated or if this last comment was the one to exceed what Amy considered her very flexible limits. Either way, no matter what, the first one option or the other, this time Amy failed to bite her tongue. She threw a comment out into the open without thoroughly considering its consequences out in the open fora first thus letting the group, especially Sydney, know what was weighing on her mind.

“You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’,” the borderline growl of a tone in which the words came out in had Amy feeling like another person: not one she specially liked. This person, or perhaps even primitive beast was a better way of describing this persona, rooted deep down in her apparently found it very necessary to protect what she already within two weeks had come to mark as her territory. Never before had she felt so green-eyed, so absolutely reckless. This being said her instincts were more vigilant than ever before and it virtually felt out of her hands.

In the meantime, while Amy was looking at her decision in retrospect yet not at all since she wasn’t doing anything to prevent any further complications, the women had turned in their seats to collectively shoot quizzical, annoyed looks resembling daggers with their eyes at Amy.

“Excuse me?” The blue-eyed blonde challenged Amy to take her statement back which roughly said only goaded her raven-haired opponent further down the warpath.

“I said: You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’.”

Feeling herself so ice-cold, so sure about something partially dumb and actually really petty would normally have Amy back down right away but something deep inside of her, like a raging fire, had her stand her ground. Apparently that’s what Jake Peralta could bring out in certain people, both Amy and Sydney included, because the blonde was not backing down just, rather instead coolly took another shot at Amy in the hopes to have her back off.

“Why shouldn't I? It’s not like he’s everyone, right? I’m for sure not letting any of these girls run off with him,” she pointed to the her friends behind her, the switch from threatening Amy to mindlessly joking and giggling with her little girl-squad having Amy metaphorically slack-jawed. Luckily not physically: there was no way she was showing this bimbo any sign of weakness.

“Okay, well…” Amy had had it for good and all consideration of rationality was out the window. Crowded police seminar or not there was no way in hell this light haired pest with her greedy crystal blue eyes and three flippant followers were getting the last word.“…let me explain to you why how you shouldn't assume and make people your property. Especially when you don’t even know them.”

Yes, she was being a hypocrite saying this but she was actually Jake’s special someone and not just some stranger: she did have a say in this.

For a brief second Sydney seemed shocked and like she actually considered Amy’s bold statement, but it didn’t last and before long blondie was back in the game apparently not satisfied with the way things could be left off. They way things should be left off, if you asked Amy.

“Oh, so you’re his “girlfriend” or what?,” the tone of Sydney’s voice clearly implied she didn’t believe anything Amy said.

All the, not doubt per se since she knew she wanted to be with Jake and he with her, but perhaps the insecurities about what stage they were currently at melted and slipped away as water off a duck’s back. It didn’t matter what exactly they were when one thing, the most important fact, was sure: they liked each other and they were going… steady. They were each other’s, politically correct to say or not.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am,” Amy’s voice and eyes drilled into Sydney’s with a kind of confidence she’d never felt before, perhaps something Jake had brought into her life along with himself.

In return it earned her a mocking scoff.

“Easy for you to say. He might as well be a random guy you’ve spotted in the crowd,” one of Sydney’s friends stepped in to help her friend in what Amy knew was a lost cause on their part.

“He could be a stranger,” Amy paused very briefly biting her lip as to refocus, hopefully managing to not say anything that could potentially make the pointless, stupid conversation even worse. This but also she still did want to make very clear that the random, cute cop walking into the lounge (who even knew where exactly he was at this point?) was hers.

“But he’s not: he’s my boyfriend.”

It was as Amy allowed herself a small halt to provide her lungs with fresh air, just in case Sydney felt like dragging out the discussion, when cute cop-guy very suddenly made his exact position known. He was walking straight up to the bar and them displaying smiley lips and eyes plastered on Amy. All the women’s eyes - Amy, Sydney and friends - immediately forgot about their opponent to focus on newly reappeared target who obviously had no clue about the fact that he was walking into the belly of the beast when he made it to his destination next to Amy.

“Hey, Ames.”

He nonchalantly stretched out his right arm to place a hand on the bar behind her crating a point of support for him to lean his weight onto.

“You catching up with some old friends?”

Oh, sweet naive Jake, Amy thought but also lowkey melted as he very credulously sent Sydney and her friend’s a warm, welcoming smile wanting to make a good impression on who he believed were part of Amy’s social circle.

“Eh,” Amy smiled culpably knowing telling Jake the truth about the situation would be the epitome of an embarrassment so early on in this new relationship of theirs. “I was just making small-talk, I guess. You know… meeting new people - yay.”

She couldn’t have sounded any less awkward and enthusiastic, even if she tried. Jake, on his part, was either really openminded or had figured out there was a good reason as to why she acted like she did and didn’t want to dig deeper into it, settling for an understanding nod.

“Well, anyhow… I don’t mean to interrupt anything but you never showed up for lunch and so I just popped in to try and find you.”

Even head turned to look at Jake who was slightly behind her meaning she could only see Sydney out of the corner of her eye, Amy could tell her smug, confident look from before was faltering with every exchange of words between Jake and Amy though they were far from flirty or telling about their relationship in any way. And, yes, she could’ve left it at that, as undramatic at it had all managed to turn out but Amy, well aware of how petty it was, she knew, couldn’t help but want to conclusively knock in the nail of victory.

“Aw,” Amy spun a quarter of a round on her barstool to face Jake behind her before affectionally placing a hand on his chest - both for the sake of the show but also because, wow, she could actually do that as she pleased now. Something she was still getting used to.

“That’s very sweet of you, babe,” the word in focus was always said in an affectionate tone but this specific context definitely had it over-enhanced and laced with extra sweetness to make her message very clear.

Then breaking her own no making out at work-rule, the only rule to have survived “screw light and breezy”, she couldn’t help herself and gave into the enraged possessiveness inside of her. She leaned in to place a soft, just a bit longer than a peck, kiss to Jake who automatically lightly bent his neck to eliminate the remaining space between their current height difference. The kiss was good, they always were with him, but it definitely had to send a signal that hopefully Sydney would pick up on: do not touch.

Amy, not wanting to break her own rule too much and give in to straight up inappropriate PDA, then pulled back to throw the women-squad a smirk over her shoulder as her hand never left the safety of Jake’s blue shirt.

“Anyways… I think we’re done here? Right, girls?”

To her immense pleasure Amy was met by a mixture of bitterness and surprise which had to mean she’d proven her point. Finally. Jake Peralta, officially boyfriend or not, was not to be considered anyone but hers - apart from being very much his own person as well.

In the meantime, slightly shocked but also far from displeased by Amy’s very out of blue-kiss, Jake stood passive by waiting for his partner’s upcoming directions. He didn’t have to wait for long because whoever these other women were, Amy was done with them and hopped off of her stool promptly grabbing his hand to walk away with. It took him a few feet of walking in silence before Jake could fully assemble and give meaning to everything that had just happened. He turned to question a still smug, also a bit guilty-looking, Amy.

“Okay, so are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

They kept walking out of the lounge and down one of the many halls of the hotel.

“Nothing.”

Jake was perhaps naive at times as he saw a lot of good in everything, which Amy loved, but he knew a guilty lip bite when he saw it and it was currently on full display on the raven haired beauty.

“Hey,” he pulled her aside into one of the many small wall pockets leading to individual hotel rooms as he wished to seclude them in hopes of it easing her into telling him the truth. “What’s up with you?” he smiled knowingly taking some intensity out of the moment. It’s not like he was angry or anything, curious being a better word for it.

“Nothing,” she smiled sheepishly trying to hurry out of the secluded area but quickly realising she’d failed once she felt his hand wrap around her upper arm to gently pull her back in. Her back gently fell back against the wall before him forcing her to face him.

He lightly tilted his head to the side much like a puppy would when feeling peculiar which was hard to resist when his eyes, soft and brown, had so much resemblance with a sweet puppy’s as well. She could tell he was teasing her, aware of the fact that he knew something she didn’t and it drew her insane in both the worst and best way - Jake Peralta summed up for you.

“Now I don’t believe that… girlfriend.”

In contrast to the playfulness controlling her body seconds ago Amy Santiago suddenly felt much more put on the spot, it clearly showing by the way her blood all at once seemed to fire up her cheeks. He’d overheard her talking to Sydney and the others; he’d heard her declare herself as his girlfriend when they hadn’t even agreed on calling each other that yet. The nervousness tricked her into making a loud swallow; yet another tell.

“Oh… y-you heard that?” She stuttered.

Jake nodded firmly almost encapsulating her against the wall when he took a step forwards, but made sure to leave just enough space for her to not feel straight up trapped against her will. A small smug smile on display. Why was he enjoying this? Didn’t he see that he was torturing her?

“I’m sorry - I really didn’t mean to. I know we’ve just barely begun seeing each other as more than friends, it’s just these girls were saying things about you and sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and then it just kind of-“

He cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers, much needed, gently pressing her up against the wall although. Only because they were hidden from the majority of the hotel’s population, Amy allowed and excused this - or so she told herself. The feeling of his welcoming lips made her forget the mess for a few seconds, just giving into how good of a kisser Jake Peralta was, and even for a few seconds after their lips parted again she was speechless and dumbfounded by how she’d gotten herself a guy this great.

“Stop apologising,” he chuckled quickly using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth which inevitably made him look that much hotter.

“I know we didn’t exactly “agree on it” and that it’s still all very new, like you said, but, Ames…” his eyes mellowed after looking just a tad too cocky and alluring before, during and right after the kiss. This was definitely a different shade of Jake looking into her eyes and talking: a very soft one. “… I don’t need a certain trial period or approval from anyone to know that I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend.”

Upon hearing these words coming from the one and only Jake Peralta with recipient being herself, Amy Santiago she felt her heart shoot through the roof, take a trip around the moon and fly straight back into her chest where it had her feeling like crying, smiling, screaming and laughing all at once: a very maniac-like but also wonderful feeling. The most wonderful as far as she could recall.

“And I’m not going to force you to tell me exactly what happened, but just based on the way your fists were basically clenched when I walked up to you, am I wrong to assume that they were, let’s say, treading on your territory…”

If she’d been blushing before then now her face was definitely on fire and looking down at her feet apparently didn’t help cover it at all. The silence was enough of an answer, one which he chuckled in reaction to.

“It’s okay, Ames. At least I came around before you could Jimmy Brogan them.”

At this sympathetic joke reminding her of a time that seemed to be so long ago she had to look back up. She couldn’t hold back a chuckle and it warmed her heart to share it with him just like when he shared his with her. All the previous insecurities: had she gone too far? Let her tongue run away with her? Given too much of herself too fast to something as brand new as her relationship with Jake? It had all been answered by a few simple words, caring eyes and a kiss that told her everything she needed to know.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m this crazy-jealous, possessive type. I’m normally not like this, I promise. I guess I have never felt this way about anyone before and maybe that’s why I’m acting up. Amy I crazy?” a tingling feeling of vulnerability made an encore.

“No, you’re not because I’m right here freaking out, in the best kind of way, because of what you just said. This is the first time I feel like this too, like I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scary and great all at once.” Jake was quick to wash away said vulnerability she was feeling and replaced it with a prickling affection and hope.

“So… no more feeling insecure about us?” he offered some kind of peace-offering, partly to her but mostly to their shared insecurities, trying to not come off as too gluttonous as he slid his hands onto her waist wanting to soak in a new feeling of belonging. A feeling he’d found in her.

“Deal,” Amy accepted the offering with a sheepish smile as her insides flipped upside down witch excitement. All she wanted was to be with this guy, fully and greatly, and this confrontation and mutual agreement would allow her to not give a damn about future external factors.

“Noice. Smart,” escaped him in optimistic relief but before she could roll her eyes at it he leaned in to softly kiss her again. Being held by him, hands gently tracing the front pockets of her pants while his lips took her to another world, was something she could never deny him or herself - screw the rules. Lips collided over and over again, one tug bringing on the next until they lost sense of anything and were full on making out like a pair of horny high schoolers in-between classes. This is what they brought out in each other: happiness, fire, want and so many more things they’d both spent the last two weeks wondering how they’d lived without before.

Unfortunately their movie-like moment had to be cut somewhat short as people coming back from lunch started flooding the hall passing by their little intimate pocket in the wall. Amy liked Jake but she also liked staying professional and this Jake respected. They jumped back, creating an exaggerated amount of space between them before sending passing strangers innocent smiles as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes declaring feelings and making out at an interstate police seminar.

“So, Detective Santiago…” his voice took on a brand new tone of gravity - a tone she also recognised as acting. “Shall we head over for lunch?”

“I’m sorry to come bearing such bad news, Detective Peralta, but people are flooding the hall as per consequence of the fact that lunch is over,” Amy played along taking on a serious tone and posture.

“Aw, man… Seriously?” he whined childishly, his recent serious persona from seconds before immediately forgotten.

“Sorry… boyfriend,” she smiled sheepishly in an attempt to cheer him up which she had to praise herself, as it obviously worked seeing his face instantly lit up.

“Whatever… It was worth losing lunch over, girlfriend.”

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missmeltycat · 3 years

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i see u have an oc for the real ghostbusters!!! i dunno if u already paired them or anything but can u do some pairing headcanons for each guy and janine maybe too??

Ohhh wow. OK. This is definitely an interesting challenge. Amusingly, waaaaay back when (We are talking a long time ago) she was paired with Egon, but I have made a number of changes since then and she’s not now.

OK, let’s do this! *Cracks knuckles*

Egon Spengler

Probably takes a LOT of time to actually get anywhere because... Well... It’s Egon!

Either happens as a moment of experimentation seeing if there’s anything between them worth pursuing or not, or part of an adrenaline rush moment.

GUILT. REGRET. “OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE! I’M NORMALLY SO LOGICAL!”

Sex? What’s that? Oh, that thing that only happens once in a blue moon?

Nights spent reading together. Egon tries to teach her things since she’s not a scientist like he is.

Kisses are quick and fleeting. Pecks and nips, rarely deeper unless adrenaline or hormones play a part.

Equipment experimentation made purely for Rae’s build and work method.

Love language of reminding the other to eat/drink/sleep. Cleaning of glasses. Maintaining fitness equipment.

Night’s out at the opera/theatre.

Dates at the museum. Egon explaining in great depth about everything.

Rae dragging him to the gym. He doesn’t enjoy it until she gets him to think about it from a scientific and biological standpoint. (He wears a sweatband.)

Yes. Problems with Janine. Oh boy.

Arguments are quick, never long-lasting. Usually a sudden explosion of irrational anger, followed by parting ways in different rooms and coming together with apologies laced with tremendous guilt.

Rae’s family are pretty pleased with Rae’s choice.

Pros:

Sweet and considerate pairing

Comfortable silences and just existing in each other’s spaces

Mutual respect

Maturity

Dependability

Cons:

Janine conflict

Occasional fights due to differences in interests and intellect

Late nights make for cranky people

Egon is all logic, Rae is all muscle - Technically opposites

Egon’s attitude could rub Rae the wrong way, as it can come off as slightly big-headed

Rae can be a bit rough. Egon not so much - Ouch!

Peter Venkman

Probably happens after a fight. Sudden!

Lots of angry, make up sex

Huge amount of flirting

Dates to fast food joints, pizza parlours and ice-cream shops. Possibly music venues

Fights over expenses. Let’s face it. If Peter can get out of paying, he will

Playful punch-u-punch-me matches that usually end up with Peter with bruised arms

“Goals? How many places we can do it in. The storage locker is next!”

Bets. Lots of bets. “Ten bucks says Ray can’t X.” “Ten bucks says Egon messes up.” “Ten bucks says Slimer eats X.” Occasionally “Ten bucks and I’ll eat X” and “Ten bucks says you can’t lift X, Rae!”

Gaming. Competitive gaming. Peter will sulk if he loses.

Evenings spent sleeping happily

Table hockey with utensils and condiments

Kisses are passionate, dirty, messy, lots of tongue

Love language? You mean making out lots? Yeah, that...

No shame in PDA, but not sentimental in nature. More like copping feels

No pressure. More like friends with benefits.

Arguments are usually about Peter’s flirting, or immaturity. They last a while and always end as if they never happened.

Rae is active, Peter prefers slobbing when he can. Rae tries to get him active, he tries to get her to chill more.

Creativity in the form of music. When people say they’ll make sweet music together? They were wrong in this case. Terrible music is more like it. But it’s all good fun.

Rae’s family are charmed by Peter. Wary, but charmed nonetheless.

Pros:

Fun and humour

Amazing physical encounters

No pressure or expectations

Passion

Creativity

Cons:

Immaturity

Overly flirtatious with others (Peter)

Lazy and active don’t mix all that well

Hot tempers

Trust issues

Ray Stantz

Known as ‘The Rays’

Lots of shy glances (Ray)

Self-confidence issues and inadequacy worries (Ray) because Rae works out and he’s... Ray

Anxious confessions

Sweetness, consideration, caring words and actions

Absolutely 100% serious. No room for messing about when it starts

Love language of soft touches, fingers over the hair, face cupping and cheek stroking... Oh and FOOD!

Nights spent on the sofa in blankets and PJs with popcorn

Sex? “Oh boy, are you sure? I mean, are you a hundred percent sure you wanna? I’m not hurting you am I? Am I squishing you too much? Sorry, was that right?”

Cook together a lot. Ray isn’t quite as good, so Rae (Who is knowledgeable on nutrition since she works out etc) often finishes off the dishes and lets him take credit

Dates could be anything. It doesn’t need to be fancy, as long as they’re together.

Kisses are sweet, tender, passionate without being over the top and usually combine with fingers in hair

Mutual respect and love/fascination of the paranormal, ghosts and creatures

Alternating big spoon, little spoon and always very comfortable

Fights? Not very often, but usually doesn’t last long and ends in flowers, chocolates and lots of snuggles

Soft neck kisses, breathless terms of endearment, wandering hands, confidence boosting body worship

Rae lifting Ray with one arm for training, resulting in gushing

Fawning, doodling, love-sick teen type behaviour

Comfortably discuss the future together without awkwardness

Rae’s family are surprised by Rae’s choice, but are absolutely happy with him

Pros:

Sweet and caring

Dependable and loyal

Kind to animals, ghosts and other such creatures

Willingness to always be better

Cons:

Self-confidence issues

Sometimes naive

Occasional know-it-all behaviour

Curiosity that almost kills the cat

Can’t cook so well and has questionable ingredient choices that border on imminent food poisoning danger (Ray)

Winston Zeddemore

Happens smoothly, gradually over time as the pair gain the bond naturally through companionship

Chill as fuck, but absolutely committed and serious

Love language of gifts and showing off in public

Dates at ball games and other sporting events, sometimes at sports bars showing various games

Clubs and music venues until extremely late

Workout buddies

Love to tease Peter together

Will chill out to horror movies together on the couch

Sex is passionate, but considerate, full of respect but occasionally borders on kinky. Sometimes in the shower. Did that door get locked? Oops!

Will discuss relationship stuff anywhere, no shame

Kisses are deep, long-lasting, skin-tinglingly good

Sports in the park on afternoons off

Will gladly spot Rae when she lifts weights

Games of catch with equipment and contests with how far or how high things can be thrown

Rae cooks his favourite meal every month just because

He will give her full body massage after her workouts

Arguments are strong, as they are both strong willed people. They last a little longer than they probably should, with lots of huffing and passing messages through other people. Making up, though, always the best part

Mutual enjoyment of harder music genres

Rae tries to encourage him to be more active in the group, as he’s sometimes overshadowed by the others

Always help each other out and share chores equally

Nudes exchanged. Absolutely

Rae’s family take to him quite quickly and are absolutely pleased

Pros:

Active

Mutual respect

Openly proud and shows off the other

Responsible

Loving and passionate

Open to new ideas

Cons:

Strong personalities, so sometimes clash

Sometimes shies away from challenges

Some PTSD issues (From the canonical military experience)

His passion for things sometimes trump other things, such as date nights or other promises

Janine Melnitz

This one was a random one and happened as a result of harmless flirting at the reception desk, probably as an assurance that Rae wasn’t after Egon, but it ended in something surprising for both

Bitching to each other about the guys a lot, a little club of two

Janine drags Rae shopping a lot, mostly to spend time together, but also because Rae can actually carry the shopping with no problem with her muscles

Dates at fancy restaurants and wine bars where Janine gets dressed up and Rae feels uncomfortable in a dress

Janine will offer to give her make overs, which always amuses the guys

Love language of comforting hugs, washing each others hair, giving each other shoulder massages, doing small things such as put incense on when the other is feeling stressed out and little notes left around for each other to find

Mail order flowers

Both of their apartments become used equally as bases and it’s never known which they will be at at any given point

Arguments are loud and sometimes vicious in nature, which prompts the guys to demand they make up. Usually ends with crying and hugging and huge apologies

Nights binging series or movies with pizza, ice-cream and soda

Will both kick Peter’s ass if he’s not careful

Intimacy is usually sweet and loving, but with a spark of passion. And, yes, absolutely open to others to join... By others Janine means Egon

Kisses are sudden and big smooches, or quick pecks on the fly

Janine will phone to make sure Rae is OK when out on assignment, sometimes becoming a nuisance. She will also threaten everyone to look after her, or she’ll kick the crap out of them

Rae’s family are a little shocked over her choice, but completely pleased with Janine.

Pros:

Playful banter

Reliable, responsible and loyal

Conscious of feelings

Pretty badass, let’s face it

Cons:

Cranky and overly emotional

Jealous

Sometimes clumsy to the point of endangerment

#Ghostbusters #The Real Ghostbusters #Egon Spengler #Ray Stantz #Peter Venkman #Winston Zeddemore #Janine Melnitz #Rae Taylor #OC #Original Character #Prompt #Headcanon #Headcanons #Anon

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