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insertsickusername13 · 1 year

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You get no summary as to what this is about. It's around 2k words, but it only took me like 30 minutes to write so. it's. it's a bit confusing. but it's cute and happy!!!

“I don’t even know where to start,” Chloe whined, slamming her forehead against the library table. Jake winced involuntarily at the noise, but Chloe didn’t even seem to notice what she’d done. “She’s just so pretty, Jake. Have you seen her? Those eyes—”

“Yes,” Jake replied, an odd mix between bemused and annoyed. He had homework he was happy to ignore just to listen to Chloe’s excessive rantings on her most recent crush (there’d been three this week—she was struggling with the whole ‘not being in love with Brooke anymore’ thing), but it was still homework that he’d have to do later if he didn’t finish it now. “We get it, she’s hot and you want to fuck her, but did I factor this right?”

She barely glanced over his paper before giving him a half-hearted thumbs up and continuing on with, “I just want to be able to talk to her, you know? Be confident and tell her she’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

“Then do that,” Rich seethed. He was even more impatient than Jake, sitting red-faced with his arms crossed over his chest, staring directly at his computer with a familiar fiery gaze Jake was accustomed to being on the receiving end of. Jake’s heart did a flip.

“Shut up. You never confess to your crushes," Chloe shot back.

“Because I’m busy writing reports for my stupid research class, and I’d prefer if I could do it in silence.”

Jake leaned forward on his elbows and propped his chin on the heel of his hand, just close enough so he could feel the edges of Rich and Chloe’s argument like electricity in the air. They were both pissy today—Chloe because she was upset about her crush, and Rich because he had a three thousand word report due that night that he’d totally forgotten about until two days ago. Though Jake would usually have little patience when it came to Rich’s moods (uncommon now that he was unsquipped—most of the time it was either dorky ramblings or hesitant dad jokes), he was well enough adapted to Rich’s behaviors to know that hadn’t meant to put it off, really, it was just a thing that happened sometimes. He knew Rich had seen it in the color-coded agenda Jake had made for him, it simply didn’t register that it was real. Rich spent the past two days busting his ass off and Jake understood why he wanted silence so he could get it over with.

“No,” Chloe shot back, “You’re a coward. And I am too. I’m usually so confident, this genuinely hurts. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Rich tilted his head back to cast a glance up at the sky, probably a prayer of some sort, before he closed his computer and turned to Chloe, expression cold. Jake watched his every movement.

“Five minutes,” Rich spat, “Five minutes, and then you shut up for the rest of the period and let me work. Deal?”

Chloe stuck out her hand and shook his. Rich set a timer on his phone and immediately Chloe was off. The color of this girl’s eyes (Jake wasn’t sure of her name, he’d been too busy watching Rich bite his lip while he focused to catch it), her hair, the way she made her feel.

“I can’t even think when I'm around her," Chloe sighed, borderline wistful, “My stomach gets in knots and everything gets fuzzy and warm. It’s like I’m melting inside, and not in a horny way. I want to take her away to some perfect place where she can never get hurt and teach her how to paint and feed her cherries. How am I supposed to talk to her when my brain is literal mush whenever she gets too close?!"

Rich laughed for the first time all day. Jake frowned.

“I don’t get it,” Jake said slowly, trying to decode Chloe’s words even as he was speaking, “Aren’t you doing that now?”

Chloe and Rich immediately turned to him, surprised by not only his sudden contribution to their previously exclusive conversation but also by his hesitance. Jake wasn’t hesitant. Jake always knew what he was talking about.

Even now, he was sure of himself. He knew Chloe was talking through that feeling now—Rich was sitting right next to her, and Rich was practically the embodiment of that feeling. He walked into the room and overwhelmed everyone with a giddy, sunshine feeling that made their vision blur and their heart beat too fast. It was a Rich thing, he brought it everywhere he went. Even when he walked in with a too-big sweatpants and oily hair after weeks of either studying or laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and convincing himself he was worth more than the persona he used to present, Rich ignited butterflies in everyone he met. Every single day.

Chloe didn’t make the connection to the Rich Effect (as Jake had dubbed it), though. She shot to her feet, eyes wide and panicked.

“She’s here?!!?” she whisper-yelled, spinning in circles and scanning the library for her mystery crush, “Where?! Why didn’t you tell me—”

“What? No, calm down, I was talking about Rich.”

If Jake’s earlier statement had confused them, this broke them. Chloe sat down, her back rigid and eyes narrowed. Rich simply tilted his head slightly to the right, an innocent show of curiosity. Even that was enough to make the room flush pink, and somehow Chloe seemed perfectly fine talking through that, he didn’t see why this new girl was any different.

“Rich?” she echoed, “I don’t have a crush on Rich? It’s fine to talk around him?”

“Yeah, obviously. But he’s got the whole Rich thing, y’know?”

They did, indeed, not know. Jake looked between the two of them, searching for any flash of recognition, but he was met with empty stares and questioning looks. Rich made a small, confused sound.

“Like, Rich-walks-in-a-room-and-everything-lights-up? That thing? The butterflies? C’mon, you have to know what I’m talking about, he’s been doing it since the fire.”

Jake’s nerves somehow coalesced into an awkward, stunted laugh made just to fill the silence that followed his observation. Rich seemed weirdly flustered, as if he’d somehow been unaware that every single person he met was enthralled by the sound of his lisp or the way he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves whenever he got nervous. This was normal—Jake knew it was normal. Everyone felt that, everyone knew it, it was just such a fact of life it remained unspoken amongst the masses.

“…no,” Chloe said as if she was explaining some foreign concept to a toddler, “Most people do not get butterflies at the sight of Rich. No offense.”

Rich shook his head as he muttered ‘none taken.’ He was studying Jake with the same lost expression Chloe was, lips parted, and it was only when Rich’s cheeks flushed a cute pink that Jake realized maybe he’d fucked up.

Rich clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Even worse, Chloe had no idea what he was talking about. Not only was Rich not purposefully torturing the entire population with his inexplicable ability to turn everything into gold whenever he smiled, but apparently his accidental magic only affected Jake.

A phenomenon most would describe as a crush.

Jake did not have a crush. He was straight, Rich was his best friend, and he’d never risk ruining that. But Chloe was slowly coming to the same realization he had and he watched the exclamation form on her lips before he had the chance to stop her.

“You like him?!”

Jake didn’t have time to form a defense before Rich was falling out of his chair, face red and eyes bulging. He popped back up almost immediately and screeched, “WHAT?!”

“No!!! Stop! I don’t! Slow down! It’s normal, okay?! Stop looking at me like that, Jesus. I’m not—I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?! It’s clearly not the same. Just—the normal amount, you know? Don’t you give everyone butterflies? C’mon, it can’t just be me.”

Maybe it was just him, come to think of it. He didn’t remember many other people getting tongue-tied around Rich, or blushing simply when he entered the room. The only reason Jake could keep his cool around Rich was because he’d spent months adapting to this constant glow-y feeling. The first few weeks after meeting post-fire Rich, Jake had practiced talking in the mirror just to make sure he hadn’t had a stroke in his sleep and lost the ability to speak or something. Other people… didn’t seem to have that reaction. They didn’t act like Rich was made of pure sunshine, or his voice a melody, his eyes entrancing, his lips—

Jake searched Rich’s face for an answer, eyes darting from place to place helplessly. From his eyes to his eyebrows to his cheeks to his freckles to his hair. He was met with curiosity and excitement and tension—something that terrified him more than anything.

He didn’t think Rich would say no, not when he was looking at Jake like this. Like he was afraid to be happy, unbelieving that things could possibly go the way he wanted them to. Jake could ask Rich to kiss him right now and… and he might get that. He might like that.

“The normal amount,” Jake repeated, his voice trembling. Too fast. He was straight ten minutes ago, this was way too fucking fast.

“The normal amount is no amount, Jacob,” Chloe said. Unlike Rich, she didn’t sound afraid to be happy. She looked excited. She was finally free from Jake’s lingering attraction. She could go off and date this new girl without wondering if her ex-boyfriend would be okay with it. Because he had a crush on his best friend. Apparently. Fuck. No—

“Okay?! Then I don’t feel it any amount! It’s only sometimes—well, most of the time—but there’s no way—how can you look at him and not—?”

Chloe had the audacity to laugh at him, elated and unbridled. That, of all things, should’ve had Jake’s heart melting into his lungs.

But instead, it was Rich’s small, “Jake…?” that made the sky turn pink.

“Don’t. I don’t like you, okay? I don’t. It’s—”

Jake would kiss him if Rich asked him to. But, because this was post-fire Rich instead of pre-fire Rich, Rich didn’t say a word, didn't lean forward and offer Jake the sweet relief of letting all this built-up excitement out into a kiss. Rich sat back down, mouth clamped shut and eyes trained carefully on the table in front of him.

“Okay,” he murmured, his face flushed, “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Go out to dinner with me.”

Rich refused to look up. Still staring at the table, he whispered, “What?”

“I don’t know?! Apparently, not everyone thinks you’re the most beautiful person to walk the planet?! And I mean, if I get to keep you all to myself, then fuck me if I don't. So. Dinner. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m not a fucking coward. I’ll go for it. You’re pretty, you make everything warm and happy, and I think I really fucking like that feeling, so.”

“You’re straight.”

“Maybe not?” Jake offered, his voice small and on the verge of cracking.

Rich’s hands clenched the edge of the table. Jake, disoriented and desperate, reached out and threaded their fingers together just to loosen his grip.

“Please?” he whispered, “I think—I think I really like you.”

“Okay,” Rich replied.

“No, I’m serious. I—”

“I know you are. But I’m sure I like you. A lot. Why don’t you go fuck around a little and experiment a bit before you decide to go and break my heart?”

“Oh, shit,” Chloe said. Jake shooed her off with his free hand, not even bothering to look at her. His full attention was on Rich and his trembling hands.

“I don’t wanna experiment. I want to go out to dinner with you.”

Rich shrugged. Jake made a small sound of frustration.

“C’mon, you can’t—I like you! I have all the feelings people get when they like someone. Hell, I probably have more, considering I literally cannot see anyone else whenever you so much as brush up against me. I was raised to be fucking president of Model UN and the archery team, Rich. My brain never managed to compute that liking guys—liking you—could even be an option. But it is an option, and I like you, and now that I know it I don’t think I will physically be able to handle being in the same room and not kissing you. Dinner. Please. One date. Then you can decide I’m a slut who just wants to experiment.”

Rich squeezed Jake’s hand, tight and unwavering. When he looked up, all Jake could think about was how grateful he was Rich hadn’t done it earlier. He already knew he was fucked—just from Chloe’s confusion, from Rich’s embarrassment—but damn. Damn. Jake wished he was more poetic. He’d trained himself to write succinct essays and informative contentions, not stanzas about the exact shade of gold the perfect mix between green and brown could make.

“One date.”

“And when I prove you wrong, we can go out on another.”

Rich let out an awkward laugh that sounded somewhere between pained and excited.

“Sure,” he said, “Then we can go on another.”

#rich goranski #jake dillinger #I TOLD Y'ALL I'D EMERGED FROM MY ANGST ERA #sorry if this doesn't make sense #i couldn't make it make sense #everyone is confused #and i overuse the word mush #bmc #be more chill #chloe valentine #chloe valentine being gay #sparkly star fanfic #richjake

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askswordfrisk · 1 year

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So how are you doing on that flowified fan story (just curious) also did you have a merry Christmas

Mod: With so much going on on my end with my AUs and me having a job, I won’t lie I kinda forgot. And it’s been kinda hard to bring myself to continue. Mostly because what I’m doing involves writing official characters from a series that, despite loving suits designs and abilities, I have my…. Certain gripes with. Cuz the story was a bit all over the place. ^^; And projecting them against these kids is kinda tricky. Because due to the story being a bit wonky (not the Flowified AU or the kids in void in general I wanna make that clear) the character’s development in such cases is….. obscure? Durendal for example at the time was hard to put together on how he would face the child, I know he harsh yet fair. But follows a strict code. Really all I know about him aside from his sister is his clan that he grew up in and how they were raise. Anything else like what his likes or dislikes are or what he does when he ISNT constantly fighting is hard for me to get into character. As for Buster thank god I was able to find a manga about his past so I feel like I’m able to make him go well. Blades on the other hand despite being the secondary character of the show was also a little tricky? I know he is a dedicated swordsman and he more of a bookworm to the point where he calls humans “Homosapians” but even then like the other swordsman I barely understand him to project him. Aside from his master he is constantly talking about, I remember only him constantly fighting aswell. And Calibur….. uhhh… Let’s just say she wasn’t exactly the user of the sword at the beginning of the series. IN FACT SHE USED IT AT THE END OF THE SERIES AND ALL I KNOW IS THAT SHE A CLONE OF SOME… MAGIC BOOK CHARACTER CHILD?

youtube

This series is so weird to understand lore wise despite them telling AND showing. And there are supposed to be TEN of these guys. TEN TECHNICALLY MAIN CHARACTERS! First off the transformation sounds are long, they have an ending song which is not usually done in this series. And there are usually only 45 to 50 episodes each at best supposed to be 23 minutes. It feels like information was cut out due to the books swords transformations and ending rambling on.

Now why am I ranting about this. Cuz here is the key detail to all this.

I HAVE TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THE CHARACTER IF I WANNA PLAY IT RIGHT.

I’m not an artist so I can’t just draw a simple scene and call it a day. My only way to do this is make fan stories that project the feelings perfectly. And it’s difficult to do sometimes when it comes to the characters I’m trying to present to flowified kids. Cuz this isn’t meant to just be a battle of abilities it’s meant to be a battle of IDEALS. A teaching moment. Not just dragon ball or jojo stuff where you beat the character and call it a day. And if I don’t project it right I feel like I’m ruining the characters and intention behind it.

So that’s why it’s been so difficult to continue. I apologize for my ramble. I am not sure if I will continue it anytime soon because I am working on other major stuff on my other blogs and here. And it’s been a lot more easy to understand and put together. Maybe at some point I will continue. But that’s really gonna depend. I DO want this interaction to happen. Because i feel like these heroes could save them and teach them. YES even chara (may be stubborn but at least they can be lectured). But I will need time and lots of motivation to continue. Especially when I’m so busy and trying my best to keep track of a lot of projects and side stuff that goes on. ^^;

We will have to see.

#mod talks #thanks for the merry Christmas though sorry I just woke up X…D

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mysteriouslybluepirate · 1 year

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Doom post

At the end of this is a picture of my cat, so if you wanna just skip to that, feel free. She's great, healthy, etc.

Don't read if you're already anxious, in a bad place in life, are directionless etc.. I'm ranting about life stuff, so you know yourself best. If you want to read and are feeling shitty, just wait.

It's winter here in the US. If you are reading this past 4 in the afternoon, you're probably not happy.

So there's this new AI coming up, it allows people to put in a prompt, and essentially ask an ai to write it. This works from anything from school essays, to basic medical diagnoses(enough to tell a person to go to the hospital), to correcting computer code. For the next few years this will be an uphill battle.

I'm just going to ask this now, as a person who is mentally ill and it's hard to hold down a serious job. I can't work or live at a deficit.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with my life?

(For context I'm officially diagnosed with: ADHD, Bipolar Disorder 1 with psychotic features, Depression, and Generalized Anxiety disorder)

After 3 degree changes I wanted to go into English teaching, but that whole landscape will change. Why would a 12-year-old write an essay when they can use this program. In the US, our long-form essay-based classes need to change. Plus, I'm a lesbian with a wonkey gender presentation on a given day that lives in a red state. I'm already not safe, I'm not going to be poorer than now and in dept as a teacher. So that's a no.

I'm in a 10k-people dying retirement town 6 hours away from a 100k-people city. I've already worked most jobs locally and was either let go of or quit due to my being part-time due to college. Got gently let go of from Walmart cause they were getting rid of part-time night stockers. All these jobs were manual labor, no office jobs, no 'lazy' jobs that respect my free time. They don't exist here.

I've tried nursing school, computer science, and engineering as degrees. Around 40-50 credits for nothing. Nothing kept me hooked, I had to be uber-medicated for my ADHD to stay going. I was able to get through high school cause I hated myself and punished myself whenever I was underperforming. I'm to tired to do that right now.

As for jobs-

Retail killed me, I worked WalMart for a year, and another local family owned business for four months before giving up. Unless forced to, I won't be returning.

I've tried Railroad (very male-dominated work environments); it's a trade. I wanted to die, mostly 40-year-old men looking at a 5'9 twig and deciding that's enough of a joke to grab onto for a bit. Not to mention all the touching. That's all there is here, besides specializing in another trade, where I could just get treated as badly. Nursing (where I'll be harassed with a smile on my face like my mother) or fitting in with a red town.

My therapist tells me to 'just go into computer science'. She's one of those people that are convinced that anyone can get a degree and find a good job. She ignores me when I tell her how my ADHD makes it hard to focus on tasks. I just need to 'power through it' and It'll work out in the end.

Oh! And Comp Sci is expected to have an influx of people over the next 5 years at entry-level positions due to the pandemic. No one in my family actually believes me when I tell them this, but I'd be fucked after I graduate. It will be impossible to find work with just a degree. I can't afford to leave for an internship that could cinch me a job.

I can't leave. I can't afford to leave. I'm 20, 21 next month, with no friends whatsoever as I hop around in life. All my coworkers are bigots, rude, or high schoolers, leaving me feeling more alone. I'm stuck in a $ 13-an-hour dead-end part-time job, and don't see an out.

If I left town for college, the only affordable housing is my family in the state I live in. So if I specialize I'll just be at ground zero if I'm forced to flee back to home.

I'm not the fun type of mentally ill that's gotten obsessed with something capitalism can call helpful. I obsess over a pirate show for 6 months, and spend most of my days tired and zoned out. I've tried to be hopeful and find a career that suits me. In every single degree I've looked into that isn't too heavily math-based (adhd) or social-based (probably autism, but no one here is qualified for AFAB people) is going downhill. I don't want to be here for this shit anymore.

Obviously, I've got stuff to keep me alive as concerning as this post sounds. I needed to rant, I'm probably in an episode, and if I was that badly off, I wouldn't be posting online. At the very least I have OFMD s2/s3 to look forward to, and household are kind enough not to point out how much of a dead weight I am.

I've got shitty meds that don't work, and a therapist who didn't know gay people could get married...so there's that.

I can't figure out how to verify this account. I've tried, but I can't see private messages. Reblog/comment if you want to talk. But IDK.

Cat photo reward for making it this far. Her name is Polly. She says hi.

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the-remarkable-mrs-smith · 8 months

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So… I am not okay.

The loneliness is getting to me, but I don’t have any close people. I have children (grown) but they are preoccupied with their lives.

Work… is work. I pretend to like it and sometimes I do, but it wears me out. Fucking how would you like to be interrupted agazillion times when you’re just trying to spit a sentence out.

I have trust issues and trauma, so I can’t be in a relationship.

Love myself… ah, yeah, sure. I love me eating by myself. Walking by myself. Doing laundry by myself. Sitting in my house watching TikToks by myself.

It’s not like I don’t have friends, but they aren’t all the time friends. One is, only sometimes when she is ALSO not exhausted by teaching. The other is someone who I call on the way to work.

I’m down to two friends.

Mr. Ewing spent a loving afternoon with me 49 days ago… I am sure I will never see him again. I keep asking. He keeps saying he’s too busy with the “real” people in his life.

I am not “real”.

People are too busy to be with me.

Me… I am only suppose to go to work and whatever outside of that… no one cares or knows about.

I am writing this in bed.

I’m tired and cannot sleep.

I long to be held… or just have someone call me… say hello… watch tv with.

I don’t have anything on me to make this happen.

And why would anyone want to be my friend?

I’m weird.

I seem to be only good for sex (in the dating world,) and no one wants anything else.

I seem only good to keep kids preoccupied until they can go to their more important classes.

I seem sad.

Take your meds and shut up.

Take your meds and disappear.

My kids… I don’t think they really like me unless I give them what they want.

I don’t understand this world and my place in it.

All of this… I just want to be fucking held. I just want to be held… and I can’t trust just anyone to hold me. I had a person, but I had to end it because he wouldn’t stop yelling at me. So be alone or get yelled at… it’s quieter alone, but sometimes he would at least hold me.

I’m crying in the dark of my bedroom. No one cares. I’m writing this and I don’t think anyone reads this… and if they did, so what? Would they show up at my doorstep? And if they did, they’d just leave.

Or maybe they’d show up and take me away until I lied and said I didn’t want to kill myself… only because the hospital was charging SO MUCH and I needed to get back to work… and they were not doing anything to help me.

Fuck.

All I want is my person… but I can’t have a person until I don’t need a person. How fucked up is that???!!!!

Fucking nothing is real.

This system doesn’t work.

And… you can’t escape it. I should have just died in the jungle then… I could have just haunted the jungle and lived in the trees and fucking delighted in scaring tourist.

Fuck. I just want to be held is that too much to fucking ask???!!!! Apparently it is… unless you don’t mind being held by some kind of dollar general kind of human who doesn’t understand you because he is dumber than dirt… or some dude who thinks wanting to cuddle is code for hooking up.

Yeah. 49 days.

No one has held me for 49 days either.

I’m bugging.

I’m not good.

And it doesn’t matter. No one can save me. Maybe I’ll be lucky and die in my sleep tonight. Natural death is better than suicide… and I won’t do that… maybe I’ll take something to sleep.

I’m rather glad no one reads this… I mean, I wish someone did. I wish someone cared, but it would just be pity and that never helps anyone. Like this self pity… pathetic.

😞

Maybe I’ll wake up in a better mood… or I could die… or wake up feeling shitty. So.many.options.

9/11/23

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reviewing-the-views · 2 years

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Welcome to Reviewing the Views!

This is a new blog that I created as part of a project for my visual design global media class. Here, you will find a relaxed and honest space where I post some of my opinions and critiques regarding film, books, pop culture, and media. These are topics that I love to discuss, and I’m glad I decided to take a plunge with this assignment and do something I’ve always wanted to do. Feel free to continue reading to learn more about myself and this blog, but for now, welcome, and I hope you enjoy your stay! 🫶🏼✨

Who are you?

*insert Skyrim prologue*

No, but seriously, that’s the big question, isn’t it?

My name is Rachel, and I am a university student majoring in digital journalism with a certificate in pre-law. While I have aspirations to go to law school and become an attorney, I find media to be absolutely fascinating.

From books to film to pop culture to fandom culture, I think it is so wonderful how communities blossom due to a sheer love for art and creation. There are many things to explore in media — how it affects us, teaches us, and defines who we are. I am just glad that now I have an opportunity to share my love with you all!

More about myself besides media: I love to cook/bake when I can find the time. I am a HUGE lover of cats (even though I just found out that I am allergic 😭) and I have two of my own.

Why Tumblr of all places?

Look, I’m gonna level with you. I am insanely busy in my day-to-day. To be quite honest, I’m not too sure how consistent my blogging will be since I will mainly keep it as a hobby alongside being an assignment for my class.

That being said, why Tumblr when Wordpress is right there? WordPress, while a great website for those who don’t know how to code (like myself), can get a bit tricky at times. Also, it reminds me of work: I used to use it back when I worked in an marketing internship, so to be on that platform puts me in “work mode.”

Basically, I’m gonna sit for hours editing a blog just to get it right. And I don’t want my hobby to become “work” — so, I chose Tumblr! To me, this platform is more relaxed, so it lets me have more fun when I write!

How is this blog going to be run?

At the moment, it’s a work in progress. As per my assignment details, each post is going to be between 100-200 words. It’s hard to post a full review on a topic with that kind of limit, but we’ll make do.

For the posts, I want to start with giving my general opinions on media that is either trending or just caught my eye. Hopefully, I would like to add sub-topics to provide variety.

I would love to see this blog actually take off, as this is something I enjoy talking about. Even though I am just starting out, I will greatly appreciate it if you stick around. I can’t wait to share this wonderful experience with you all!!

#blog post #pop culture #media analysis #movies #youtube #gaming #books and reading #books #blogger #film review #film #review

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wornoutmouse · 3 years

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Last one I promise to stop bothering you ahhhhh . Can we plz get a Iida Tenya (pro hero age) smut (I love this guy) like maybe you reader catching him jerking off can you imagine prim and proper tenya doing dirty things? And things get crazy after:) thank you for listening to the rambles of a crazy woman

Your wish is my command

We all know Iida has a big dick right?

And yes i looked up black hairstyles cause i just started doing my own hair leave me alone 🤚🏿

Dubious Consent, blackmail, squirting

Working for the Iida family was honest but harsh work. They strived for professionalism and didn’t allow mistakes, no matter how small. With each member holding a leading title in almost every section of Japan, it was a no-brainer that you would choose to work with them. The only problem was, your socially oblivious boss.

One would think that as the new Ingenium’s sidekick, you would have an insider’s look into his personality and lifestyle, but that was farthest from the truth. For the 2 years that you’ve worked alongside him, you had been kept at a distance and forced mainly to handle the paperwork.

According to him, until he was sure you could handle yourself on the field, you needed to stay away from danger. In hindsight, you would have understood that choice and would have been completely fine with it. However the fact you couldn't m could never learn to handle yourself in the feels if you were never allowed on the feels was a glowing contradiction

Spending time with your boss was informative yet draining. He always set an example of a good business deal and would always explain things you didn’t understand.

The downside however, was his obsession with the non-existent dress code. Since you don’t do any outside work lately, you never put on your hero costume. So i you were always dressed in normal clothes, and every last one of them he had something to critique about.

“Here’s your coffee Mr. Iida.” The bluenette man hummed his appreciation and you turn to sit back at your corner desk.“Miss L/n….”

You tense, preparing yourself as the sound of his chair scraping against the hardwood floors announced his incoming presence. His heavy footsteps loomed closer until he stopped just barely behind you.

Your legs are kicked apart and you find your boss kneeling below you with a measuring tape. “I am appalled, your skirt is 4 centimeters away from the recommended 5 inches above the knee, we do not run a brothel here, please respect the code Miss L/n!”

You sighed, it was best to just go along with his antics. “Yes, Mr. Iida, I’m sorry for my ignorance.” As you bowed you faintly heard a small choking sound and Iida’s hands grabbed your shoulders to raise you back up. “I’ll have none of that bowing, it was a simple mistake.” He pushed up his glasses before stiffly walking back to his desk.

When he came back into view, his face was slightly flushed from what you assumed to be the heat, “I am printing something in the room below, do you mind getting it for me?” You nod and headed out the door. It may have been your imagination but you could have sworn you heard a faint curse word coming from your boss’s mouth.

Reaching the lower room was quick and effortless so you sat and waited for the presumed paperwork Iida was printing. Many of your coworkers passed you with pitying looks that you did your best to ignore. You knew that this life was not one strived for by an aspiring hero but you couldn’t just up and leave.

Your head began to itch slightly. Why is it taking so long to print? While you pondered the situation, you watched a short woman walk up to the copy machine and begin copying her own set of work. You felt your eye twitch, there wasn’t anything even programmed to print.

You stood up and quickly made your way back to your office. Stepping inside, you look blandly at your enclosed room. The memory of your boss's large windowed room flashes through your mind and you decide to work out there instead.

As you walked to the door that connected your office to his, you tilt your head curiously as a loud muffled growl comes from inside. "F-Fuck yes, suck that cock!"

His voice was guttural, and the words were something you would never dream of him saying. But what stuck out to you more was where it was all happening. I know this man ain't screwing at work!!

Without thinking you barge into the room and your jaw drops at the sight.

Sitting in your chair, was your boss, Tenya Iida. His hair was disheveled and his suit was reduced to nothing but his white shirt and open slacks. He was flushed from the neck up and sweat had accumulated in his brow.

Held tightly in his right hand was his dick and it was just as dodged as him. It was also bigger than you imagined

….not that you even imagined it in the first place.

Angry blue eyes dart up to look at you through low hanging bangs and you realised you had been staring. "This is uh… Sorry!" You internally cringe at the fact you stuttered.

As you turn around to leave, you are restricted by Iida's voice. "Stop." Almost as if in a horror movie, you turn back to him slowly and it takes all your willpower not to look down as he had shamefully left his manhood out.

You press yourself against the door as you watched Iida remove his glasses and place them on your desk. "It's rude not to knock Miss L/n." You swallow shallowly when he raises a finger to motion you forward and for a moment you lose all rational as you soon found yourself standing in front of him.

His legs were spread wide open and his dick looked like it was ready to bust any moment. The tip had become an even darker red hue, contrasting ironically with the trimmed layer of dark blue curls nestled at the base.

Despite the situation, the man before you sat looking rather relaxed. He slowly rolled up his sleeves and you caught sight of swirling tattoo sleeves wrapping around each bicep. "Come closer Y/n, I promise not to bite very hard."

He had never used your first name before and that seemed to compel you to move closer, allowing him to use your wrist to place you in-between his legs. "There is a very important rule that I have yet to teach you in the world of business."

The trained look he had focused on you left no room for argument as one of his large hands easily wrapped around your upper thigh. A shiver runs up your spine as his thumb strokes your skin slightly under your skirt. "When one has even an ounce of blackmail against you…"

Iida grabs the front of your blouse and uses it as leverage to tug you to the ground. Down there, fingers gingerly comb through your freshly dyed Nubian Twists, "... you need to blackmail them as well, fair trade and all that."

The grip in your scalp tightens and you feel your eyes slightly water at the sharp sting. The other hand still holding his cock, positions it towards your full lips as a silent order. Salty precum covers your mouth and your tongue darts out to lick it off. The sight was porn worthy.

Before you got too carried away, you decided to see how far you could push him. You bring your hands to softly wrap around his member as you gauged his response. "If I agree to this arrangement, what will I get in return?"

Iida sighed as you licked his dick starting from the balls to just below the top, "What do you want, a raise?" You shake your head and kiss a thick vein traveling along his shaft. "I want to work out there, as your official sidekick."

You could tell his patience was running thin as his hips twitched so you wrapped your mouth around the top, pressing the flat of your tongue against the slit. Iida looked down at you, teeth nibbling roughly on his bottom lip. "Why...ah~ why should I let you work anywhere near me after this!?"

In a bout of anger, you accidently let your teeth drag down the sensitive skin. Iida's eyes roll to the back of his head in such a way that you couldn't pinpoint it as a result of pain or pleasure. "I can easily report your victimizing and unprofessional behavior to HR."

Iida's eyebrows furrowed and he yanked you off of his cock. You stand up shakily before being slammed against his glass table. "You got a lot of nerve, making demands yet you're the reason I was being so unprofessional."

Iida slides down to his knees and raises your skirt over your plump ass. You internally groan as you remember the matching baby blue lingerie you were wearing, that was not going to help your case. Iida slaps your right asscheek nice and hard making you moan softly. "Who is this for?"

You decide to play into it, you sway your hips a little and stick your butt out closer to his face. "It's for me, myself, and I." Iida pulls at your panty strap before letting it snap back. You had to admit it stung. Giving attention to your other cheek, a tan hand takes hold of it and squeezes hard.

"And if I let you work with me, what is my reward?" Iida uses his teeth to pull the fabric of your underwear away from your hidden prize. You hummed as if in thought, "Good karma?"

Lips wrap around your clit and suck hard, "Sorry that's not good enough for me." You grind back on his face and relax on his table more. His hot tongue massaged and prodded your lips and clit, but never got close to being inside of you.

"Working as a pro hero is karma filling in itself, but it is stressful. Not enough time for personal focus."

Iida sucked on two of his fingers before siding them up and down your slit, taking extra time to teasingly delve past your opening before retreating just as fast. You groan, "What do you want me to do, suck your dick under the table on weekends?!"

Iida hums as he joins his mouth along with his fingers. You sigh as his large middle finger finally breaches you and sends soothing sparks throughout your body as it rubs against your walls. The combined stimulation of his hot tongue against your clit, and his even warmer fingers barely grazing against your g-spot had you in pure ecstasy.

"As convenient as that sounds, if someone were to find out we'd be in a lot of trouble." At this point you're bouncing back on his fingers giving Iida a show as your pussy squelches around his fingers. Your mouth hands open in soft pants, fogging up the clear glass below you.

Iida stand up as he continues to finger fuck you in the same rythm as he pumps his cock. "How about dinner and we see how that goes? Let's be professional." You side your clenched fists down your sides as Iida removes his fingers and replaces them with his dick.

You wait in anticipation for him to fuck you but he stands completely still, and you then realise that he was waiting for an answer. "You don't think it's a little too late, dinner comes first you know?!"

As much as Iida loved your banter, his dick was so fucking hard that your joke only agitated him.

Leaning over you, he places one hand on the glass table while the other takes hold of your hair, jerking it back. You hiss as your scalp burns for a moment, but that small pain was replaced with a greater one as teeth sank into your shoulder. "If your going to be sidekick material, that attitude is going to have to be worked on now stop testing me before I fuck it out of you."

You roll your eyes and grind down on his dick making him moan, "Fine sergeant dick, I'll be your little trophy wife, in return let me work for once, I didn't go to school for nothing damnit."

Your hair is released so much quicker than you expected that you almost hit your head on the table. Iida chuckles darkly, "Wife? Trophy slut would be a better word for it." Another harsh smack was delivered to your burning bottom, but he was satisfied after long last.

His hips finally press firmly against you as the full length of him is accepted with your pulsating core.You try to talk through the discomfort, "My ring better be huge after this."

Iida laughed sympathetically as he kissed the dark bruise forming from where he bit you. "The biggest money can buy."

The stretch began to feel pleasurable as his thrusts got faster. As a result of course you could feel yourself getting louder as well. "Faster!" Iida grunted as he held your waist to balance himself. Underneath the sound of the wobbling desk, your low groans are heard as the slapping of skin soon becomes more incessant.

"I've been waiting to fuck this lewd bottom for months! Parading around in all them damn form during outfits!"

The feeling of your bosses cock pumping in and out of you was overwhelming as he was ruthless when it came to chasing his own pleasure. Your legs trembled themselves closed, as you received another harsh slap to your ass. By the time this was over, you were sure you were going to be unable to sit.

On the other end, Iida was deeply pleasured by the sight of your ebony skin shaking from the force of each thrust. That's why it was unsurprising when a high pitched moan that most definitely wasn't yours fills the room.

"Ah, yes, I'm going to cum so deep inside of you, I can right? Pretty please!?" The man was practically whimpering as his cock twitched inside of you. If you were honest, you couldn't even answer as you feel his cum fill your insides. Even so, you felt your toes curl as he kept going.

"Come for me Miss L/n!" The shakiness that seeped from his voice as he fucked himself into an overstimulated mess was adorably pathetic. You do your best to reach in between your legs and stimulate your clit.

As you get closer, your cute hole tightens like a vice around Iida's cock and he finds himself coming again in quick spurts just like before. He was unable to take anymore stimulation and weakly pulled out of you before pumping the fingers in your wet heat. "Come on, cum on my fingers Miss. L/n."

You while loudly as you rub your clit faster and like a large wave, an orgasm crashes down on your body making s clear liquid spew from your cunt, wetting the floor.

#black y/n #blackreader #bnha headcanons #mha #bnha x black reader #mha smut #iida x black reader #iida smut #iida imagine #semi public sex #iida x reader

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baya-ni · 3 years

Text

The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their “born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

#and scene #i was up till 4am writing this instead of doing my hw #bc i hav Opinions dammit #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 meta #sk8 theory #queerbait

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can we see Aizawa x reader in a coffee shop!au with the phrase “I want you to be happy…even if its not with me.” ? Love your blog!!

thank you so much! this was a fun request i adore aizawa and coffee so i loved it

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝graveyard shift❞

event: au prompts summary: you own a local coffee shop and when eraserhead shows up in your shop one night you get a crush on the hero. word count: 3.5k+ tags/warnings: fluff, first meetings, confessions, robbery, gun mention, light angst

Owning and working at a coffee shop was something you enjoyed. Yes, it could be annoying at times when dealing with bad customers but the good customers more than made up for it. Your coffee shop was a hot spot for pro heroes. Its location was in the sweet spot between a lot of agencies.

It wasn’t unusual to see Fatgum, Gang Orca, or even Miriko in your shop. You had even had their orders memorized and had them ready by the time they paid which they always appreciated so they could get back to work faster.

There was one hero in particular that had caught your eye. Eraserhead. You kept the coffee shop open pretty late for the various people who needed a pick me up later in the night. College students would often study in the night in your shop. Then there were heroes that patrolled at night that appreciated it.

That’s how you met Eraserhead. You had been covering a late shift for an employee that had a family emergency when he came in. You didn’t believe in love at first sight but you could honestly say you were drawn to him from the second he walked in.

He was tall, dressed in all black with his scarf-like capture weapon around his neck, long black hair, and dark mysterious eyes. You had to stop yourself from staring and act like a normal person. You assumed he was a hero but you had never seen him before.

“Hi, welcome.” You said, the familiar words sounding unsure in your mouth. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I get four shots of espresso on ice, please.” He said. His voice was deep and had a raspy edge to it. You shouldn’t be so pulled in by someone’s voice.

“One of those nights?” You joked as you wrote his order on the side of the cup.

“It feels like it’s always one of those nights, these days.” He said in a tired voice.

“I haven’t seen you before, have you been here before?” You asked as you started his drink.

“Yeah, I started coming here the other week. I’ve been a few times.” He answered. You glanced at him at the corner of your eye making sure he wasn’t annoyed by the conversation but he looked interested.

“You’re a hero?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I go by Eraserhead.” He answered. You hadn’t heard the name before, he must have been an underground hero. There were a few that frequented your shop.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eraserhead.” You said before giving him your own name.

“How much do I owe you?” He asked.

“It’s in the house tonight.” You said. “I hope your night gets better.” You said with a smile.

“It already has.” He said giving a hint of a smile before he left.

The rest of your night went by fast, you closed up and headed home happy to be in your bed at last. As you laid there thinking of the handsome hero that ended up in your coffee shop you remembered that you had to open the store in the morning. You let out a sigh mourning the sleep you would not get. Turning on your side you tried your best to fall asleep.

Morning came too fast, your alarm a painful sound. You rolled out of bed thankful that you owned a coffee shop and were able to make your own coffee but sad that it wasn’t in your hand yet. You got dressed quickly and made your way to the store. Opening the door you let yourself in and started turning everything on and began preparing yourself some coffee, no doubt the first of many.

Customers filtered in throughout the first hour, it was busy but not overly so at this point in the morning. After the first hour, you had two employees come in.

“I’m so sorry about last night, my sister got sick and no one was home to take care of her and-” The girl who you covered for last night said as she clocked in.

“Don’t worry about it, things come up. It’s okay.” You said waving your hands.

“I feel so bad, you closed last night and you had to open this morning. You must be dead.” She said as she put her apron on.

“That’s the joys of owning your own business. It’s bound to happen. I’ll survive.” You said as you walked to the front of the shop with her. “Besides I met a new hero last night, he was pretty cute. His name was Eraserhead.”

“Oh! Eraserhead, I remember him.” She said. “Wow, do you have a crush on him?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unprofessional to ask your boss about who they’re interested in?” You scolded. She looked at you with a pout on her face. “I’m just kidding, I do have whatever you would consider the adult version of a crush on him.”

“You should ask him out!” She said.

“I think you overestimate how brave I am. Besides, who knows when I’ll see him again.” You said.

Just at that moment, the door opened with a jingle of a bell and you both looked over to welcome the new customer only to see the man from last night. Your eyes widened a bit as your employee looked over at you with a cheeky smile.

“Long time no see.” You said. “I feel like I should be concerned that you’re back so soon. Do you ever sleep?”

“I could say the same about you.” He replied. “I teach at UA, not much time for sleep in between that and hero work. That’s where the caffeine comes in.”

“Always happy to help with that.” You smiled. “Although I don’t recommend too much, it can only help so much before it hurts. There is no alternative to sleep. Not to sound like I’m scolding you.” You realized how overbearing you sounded.

“It’s okay, you’re right.” He said. “I’m always so busy scolding my students I forget to scold myself.”

“Well, you know where I am.” You smirked. You could feel your employee’s eyes on you.

“What can I get for you Eraserhead?” She butted in.

“Four shots of espresso on ice.” He said.

“I’ll have that right out for you.” She smiled before starting the coffee.

“How long have you taught at UA?” You asked.

“Three years.” He answered.

“How do you like it?”

“It’s rewarding at times, frustrating at others.” He said humorously.

“I think I know the feeling.” You said glancing at your employee. She placed the drink on the counter for him. He handed her the money but before she could make the change he stepped away.

“I’ll see you next time.” He said looking at you.

“Looking forward to it. Have a great day!” You smiled at him.

“Wow, you could have a little less shame with your flirting.” She said nudging you.

“I was not flirting.” You replied.

“Oh, you were so flirting.” She teased.

“That’s enough out of you, go wipe a counter or something.” You huffed.

Thankfully for you, Eraserhead became a regular customer. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t start working night shifts to see him more. He assured you he did what he could to get sleep in between jobs, you were certain it wasn’t enough.

Some nights he would sit down for a break and you would join him. You loved talking to him, he was smart and had a dry sense of humor that you loved. It always felt good to get a laugh out of him. You denied you were flirting with each other but your employees assured you otherwise.

One night you were closing by yourself, you were short the people and you knew that you would be able to handle the store by yourself so you didn’t close early. It was late, no one was in the store at the tables and you found yourself on your phone waiting for something to do.

The door rang as someone entered and your eyes stayed glued to your phone as you greeted them.

“Welcome, what can I get started for you?” You asked looking up as they stepped up to the counter. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you saw the man standing in front of you with a ski mask on. “Oh,” The word fell out of your mouth.

“Give me the money, now.” His voice was low. You gulped, your body was frozen to your spot standing there. “I said now!”

The sight of the gun in his hand sent ice down your spine as your heartbeat out of its chest.

“I- I- Uh.” Your words stuttered out of you as you looked down at the cash register. Your hands fumbled as you put the code to open it, messing up the code multiple times.

“Hurry up!” He shouted firing the gun at the ceiling. You jumped in fear, trying harder to put the code in as tears ran down your face.

“I’m sorry,” You cried as your hands shook uncontrollably.

Everything happened quickly, the door opened with a chime of a bell and before you knew it the gun clattered to the ground as a familiar scarf wrapped around the man pulling him away.

You collapsed to the ground, your back pressed against the side of the counter as you sobbed into your hands.

“Hey, it’s okay now.” Eraserhead’s voice filled the air. You opened your eyes looking at him, it was odd to see him without his scarf. He kneeled down at your side. “You’re okay now, you’re safe.”

It was embarrassing but you hardly had control of yourself and you needed comfort, you lunged towards him hugging him. To give him the credit he handled it well, standing firm and wrapping his arms around you.

“C’mon,” He said leading you to the back of the store, you pointed him toward your office. He sat you down on the couch, sitting beside you with an arm around you.

Your tears began to slow and the adrenaline faded from your system leaving you even shakier.

“We just have to wait for the cops and once you tell them what happened I’ll take you home, yeah?” He said, rubbing your arm soothingly. You nodded softly.

Thankfully things were said and done with quickly, you let your employees know that they had tomorrow off and the store would be closed and Eraserhead walked you home. As you approached your door the two of you stopped as you unlocked your apartment.

“Thank you, Eraserhead. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Aizawa. Aizawa Shouta.” He said.

“Thank you for saving me, Aizawa.”

“I’m glad I was there on time.” He said softly. “Are you okay, do you need anything before I leave?”

“I couldn’t ask you for anything else, you’ve done so much already.” You said.

Aizawa motioned for your phone, you gave it to him and he quickly put his number in.

“If you need anything at all, just let me know.” He said.

“Thank you.” You said.

“Good night.” He said before turning.

As he walked away you felt a wave of emotion, you had never felt so vulnerable and scared before. Images from tonight flashed through your eyes. Almost on reflex, your hand moved to grab his sleeve causing him to stop. You gulped feeling the shakiness from earlier overcome you.

“P-Please stay.” You stuttered out. He turned to you, his dark eyes so soft on yours.

“Of course.” He said leading you into your apartment. He guided you to your couch, you were thankful for that because your legs nearly gave out as you sat down.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask you to stay. I know you’re a busy hero.” You said as he sat down with you.

“A good hero wouldn’t turn away someone in need.” He said. “Much less a friend in need.”

“T-Thank you.” You said as he put an arm around you, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. You knew tomorrow when you felt better you would be embarrassed by your actions but right now you needed comfort and Aizawa was here for you.

In his arms you were hit by a wave of exhaustion, the day’s events hitting you. You didn’t even realize that you fell asleep. All you knew was you had never felt so safe and comfortable than you did right now in his arms.

It wasn’t shocking that you woke up with a gasp. Your living room was dark, the first light of morning just beginning to light up the city. Images of what had happened replayed in your mind. You realized you weren’t just on your couch, you were on top of someone. That, someone, was Aizawa, who was now half-awake from your commotion.

“I’m sorry.” You said, looking down at him. His arms were still wrapped around your waist.

“S’okay.” He said if you thought his normal voice was enticing his morning voice was on another level. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” You said quietly. He nodded, pulling you into his chest. You hated how normal that action felt. Was there any chance he was interested in you as you were in him? You supposed right now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

“You’re safe now, it’ll take time till you feel normal again but it’s okay to not be okay.” He said. You tightened your grip around his neck, shoving your face into his chest.

“Thank you.” You said, you knew his words came from a place of understanding and that gave you comfort in its own way.

Laying on his chest, the steady rhythm of his breaths and heartbeat calmed you down as you watched the living room light up slowly as the morning went on.

A growl from your stomach interrupted your peace.

“Are you hungry?” You asked. “I can make us breakfast.”

“I don’t want to impose.” He said.

“It’s the least I could do for everything.” You said looking down at him.

It was a nice morning despite what had happened the night before. You made him breakfast, he helped and you chatted while you ate. It turned out he had the day off so you told him he was welcome to stay. That led to you napping together to catch up on the sleep you both need.

After that, you felt a connection to Aizawa. You had already been interested in him but now you felt a closeness to him. If you were brave you’d call them feelings. When he came in you still flirted, not that you would admit it, but even with the playfulness of it, there was a serious undertone. Were you the only one who felt it?

You debated asking him out. Would he feel like you only liked him because he saved you? Or would he just not be interested in general? No doubt a hero like him could have any pick of love interests. Would he be interested in a coffee shop owner?

Maybe it would be better to leave things as they were. Or at least that’s what you thought until one fateful day.

Aizawa had finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. He had been interested in you for a long time but the night of the robbery had been a turning point. He realized he didn’t want to idly flirt with you, as much as he enjoyed all of your interactions together.

Holding you in his arms was something he was eager to feel again. A part of him felt bad as if he was taking advantage of you. He knew that you needed comfort, someone to make you feel safe and he was more than happy to be that person. No, he had to be that person for you. The thought of it being anyone else broke his heart.

He had mulled it over in the passing weeks. Your flirting felt heavy with the feelings he carried for you. A part of him wondered if you felt the change too. He finally reasoned that he should tell you. Well, truthfully Present Mic had been the one to convince him after he explained the situation.

Entering your coffee shop he was more nervous than he had been in a long time. His eyes moved to the counter looking for you but he didn’t find you there. Maybe you had taken off the morning. He was ready to push his plans to another time when he caught sight of you sitting down at a table but you weren’t alone like you were at times on your breaks. No, you were there with Best Jeanist. He couldn’t lie about the twinge of jealously that stirred in his chest but when he saw you laugh he couldn’t hold it back.

Did you have a boyfriend this whole time? Or were you this close with all the heroes that visited your store?

Aizawa caught your gaze before turning and leaving.

Catching Aizawa’s gaze you knew something was wrong as he turned and walked out the door. You looked at Best Jeanist.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” You said.

“No problem, I need to get to work anyways.” He said waving his hand.

“Thank you, we can continue this conversation another time.” You said as you headed towards the door.

“Of course.” He said.

You knew you had to be quick to catch Aizawa. There was something about the look in his eyes, it looked like heartbreak. Maybe that was presumptuous. Whatever it was you just knew you needed to catch him. You spotted him turning to corner and you rushed to follow him. He turned into an alleyway but you were quick enough to catch up grabbing him by his sleeve, stopping him.

“Aizawa, where are you going?” You asked, concern melting through your words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” He said pulling his sleeve free from your grasp. You couldn’t help the hurt that blossomed in your chest. You had never seen him so dismissive.

“Aizawa, you don’t sound okay.” You said. “Please, you can talk to me. You were there for me, I can be there for you.”

Aizawa let out a sigh, turning to face you fully. He ran his hand across his face, you could tell he was conflicted. After a tense moment, he finally spoke.

“To be completely honest with you I wanted to tell you that I had feelings for you. I didn’t realize that you had a boyfriend already and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so I just left.” His words were rushed, uncharacteristic for him. "I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me. I would never want to interrupt your relationship."

“A boyfriend?” You questioned. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence but you having a boyfriend was the first thing that jumped into your attention.

“Yeah, Jeanist. I didn’t know you were dating.” He said.

“Oh?” You said. “Oh! He’s not my boyfriend, I just asked him for his opinion on the new uniforms I was going to get for the shop. Not that he was any help he just said it needed more denim.”

“Oh,” Aizawa said looking taken off guard.

“I like you too, Aizawa.” You replied taking advantage of his silence while he processed everything. “Like a lot. Maybe even more than just like.”

“Oh.” He repeated looking at you so innocently with those soft eyes. You could feel the embarrassment of his jumping to conclusions.

“I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way but I guess we’re both on the same page.” You said looking up at him.

The two of you stood there for a moment.

“An alleyway is a very romantic location for a love confession.” You joked.

Aizawa let out an unexpected laugh. He reached out grabbing your wrist pulling you towards him. He looked down at you, inches away from your face. Your gaze flickered down to his lips back up to his dark eyes. He got the hint leaning in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you to him.

It was easy to get taken away in the passionate kiss but you had to come back for air. You let out a laugh as you pressed your forehead against his, smiling big.

“For such a logical man you really thought I was dating Jeanist after I’ve been flirting with you for months.” You teased.

“What can I say, I guess you make me illogical.” He teased, pulling you closer. You laughed, hiding your face in his chest. His hand brushed against your chin pulling your gaze back to him. “Let me take you out tonight, show you how I feel properly. Not in an alley.”

You smiled up at him.

“That sounds good to me.” You said before going in for another kiss.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #magicxecustos

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souljoon · 3 years

Text

Like a fool (pt.1)

pairing: teacher!jungkook x cafe owner!reader word count: 2k genre: fluff, smut, ex lovers au warnings: sexual content, slight dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe loves!)

synopsis: Everyone in the neighborhood knows you and Jungkook will inevitably end up in a wedlock despite the complicated status of your on-and-off relationship. While you want to keep a civil relationship with him, Jungkook learned not to care about labels long ago since the first time you two broke up. Whatever you’d say, he intends to keep his place in your heart taken for the rest of your life.

~~~

“Your beau is here,” Jimin prompted behind you.

Without turning in his direction, your attention to the carrot cake remaining glued to the carrot cake you were currently frosting about.

At this point, you wouldn’t even be surprised to see Jungkook on the opposite side of your bed in the morning. He seems to find it amusing to see you evidently pissed whenever he’s around. How couldn’t you? He not only takes over Jimin’s job but he often causes a scene with the customers in the cafe—which, to fuel more of your unspoken frustration, are students from the nearby community college.

You couldn’t admit how the attention he was getting from people of different gender identities still bothers you despite the mutual decision to call the engagement off. You understand your ex-fiance is a very attractive man. And his charisma could probably stir attraction from married women regardless of their age.

Over the course of six years of a complicated relationship with him, you two had already been in two break ups in college, citing his laid back self in college and your endless insecurities that urged you to try to get away from him, from the spell he had on you.

While you decided to pursue your dream to start your own cafe business post-graduation, Jungkook surprisingly landed on a teaching job in Jung-do High School which is also located in the same neighborhood two years ago.

Footsteps are, again, back in the kitchen. “He just wore an apron. So I’m guessing he’s here until the shop closes.” It was Jimin, informing you yet again as if it was part of his job to report Jungkook’s every move to you.

This time, you sweep a brief glance behind. “Don’t let the counter vacant, Chim.” You say, cleaning up the cake board as a finishing touch to your masterpiece.

“He took over the counter, _____. How am I supposed to make him go away when he’s our own human advertisement. He’s attracting more customers!”

With a glare darted to his direction, you suggest, “Then I guess I should replace you with him, instead?”

Jimin visibly sulked, not really wanting to argue with you—his boss. “Fine!”

Six months. That’s how long you’ve been single since. Sure he had you wrapped around his fingers back then. But you wanted to prove to him and to yourself that you can live without him. However, it’s too impossible to keep up with it when he freely deems himself welcome wherever you are, maintaining his act of indifference toward the real score between you.

Intending to place the cake in the display, you finally went out of the kitchen-- ironically, just in time to run into him. Jungkook being the shameless ex-boyfriend that he is, took the cake in your hands.

He was wearing a gym class outfit— a pair of black adidas sweatpants, and a plain, white shirt over a black hoodie. If only you were not trying to stay as far as possible away from him, you’ll probably tease him about his own dress code. He doesn’t look like he just got out of his class as the teacher. He looked like he just went out of bed before he came here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” You ask from behind him.

“I’m bored,” he simply replied.

“What do you mean you’re bored? Haven’t you just got off work?”

He spun around, startling you when you came face to face with him. If you couldn’t properly see his entire face before, you do now much to your annoyance.

He sighs. “I did. Look, I’m just helping Jimin-hyung out here. I won’t bother you, I swear.”

“You don’t have to because you’re not my employee, Kook.”

“Well, I could use some part time if you’re hiring.” Jungkook shrugs.

Here we go, again.

Your eyes narrowed to which roused him to raise his hands up defensively.

“Jagiya—”

“Lovebirds,” Jimin suddenly interrupts.

“What?!” You both snapped back at Jimin’s direction.

“Whoa, tone it down— you two. Restroom is right there in case you need to release the sexual tension. It’s getting intense out here.” He jests, making a shooing motions with his hands.

Jungkook wasted no more time and took it as his cue to grab your wrist, dragging you with him as he navigated the way past the kitchen into the storage room.

A temporary relief washes through you when Jungkook brought you in this enclosed, rather safe space instead of the restroom. However, dread slowly consumes your whole being when you hear the familiar sound of the knob locking.

Jungkook pivoted back, facing you. “Let’s talk here.”

Your eyes lingered down where his hand maintained his grasp around your wrist. “Why? There’s nothing else to talk about.”

“For the umpteenth time, I saw the landlord across the street like he was waiting for someone,”

You look up, quirking up an eyebrow at his sudden shot of a subject relating to Seokjin. “What’s your point?”

“I don’t trust him.” He deduces, childishly.

“What do you want me to do, find another leasing property? This shouldn’t concern you in the first place. You never once heard anything from me about Joohyun.” You mentally cursed, unable to stop yourself from mentioning the name of the woman he was seen in a restaurant a week ago.

“What’s Joohyun got anything to do with this?”

You scoff. “You know what, I don’t need to answer that. We’re not together anymore so it’s none of my business.”

Jungkook seized your attempt to leave, latching onto your arm just in time. As he pulls you back, you were met with the subtle amusement plastered obnoxiously on his face.

“We’re not done here, baby. So... Joohyun, really? My colleague?” A laugh slips out of him, seemingly pleased. You, on the other hand, felt insulted on his take of your serious remark. Your blood started rising up. So the rumors aren’t true?

You jerked away. Well... tried to, because your hand stayed locked around his firm grip. “Let me go, I need to go back to the kitchen.”

You stepped back when he abruptly inched forward. You were puzzled for a second, but when your back touched the surface of the door, you knew you fell from his trap as he steadied himself with his palms pressed flat above your head. You turned your face away, avoiding his heated gaze. But the gesture only gave Jungkook a room to nestle his head on the exposed skin of your neck.

The moment you felt his warm lips touch your skin, you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’ve been pretty good at keeping a safe distance from me, baby. You have no idea how much I fucking miss you, missed keeping you all to myself like this.” He expresses in a thick, sultry tone.

You shake your head, knowing full well what he meant. “We c-cant, Jimin is--”

“--not here.” He finishes, pressing his lower body against yours and teasing your sweet spot with a gentle suck. The bulge on his mid-region was enough to make your panties wet instantaneously and your body heats up too quickly.

“Jungkook,” his name slips out of your mouth.

“Please tell me you’re still in birth control.” He desperately murmurs against your skin on the curve of your neck.

You frantically bobbed your head, lost at the hot trail of kisses he’s leaving on your skin.

With an eager pull of the strings on his nape and back, he rids the apron off of his front followed by a swift pull of his sweatpants with his boxers, just enough to release his hard member.

Your mouth instantaneously watered at the sight of the maddeningly pink head and aroused length, thick and hard just the way you remembered it the last time Jungkook fucked you. It happened in his car three months ago. You were too intoxicated then to control yourself from jumping up into his lap as he drove you back to your apartment. To keep your pride intact, you tried to steer clear from repeating the same mistake again. Not when you’re not officially back together.

Right now, you’re too sexually neglected to care about anything.

“I want you in my mouth,” you beg, not believing you sounded incredibly hasty than you actually have estimated.

He swats your hand off when he sensed your hand extending towards his crotch, “I’d love to fuck your mouth baby, but we don’t have that much time. I need to be inside your pussy,” You felt his palms scooping you up through your butt, sandwiching you between his body and the door. Your legs automatically weaving around his hips to steady yourself.

Then pushes your underwear aside, “This is probably the only reason why I love you wearing skirts. Easy access—fuck baby, so tight.” He barely sank his cock in, yet you could already feel the sting of your walls as they stretch around him.

Your hand flew to the back of head, eager to bury your fingers beneath his curly locks.

Just as you part your mouth to speak to encourage more his entrance, he suddenly propels his hips forward, pushing his dick to the hilt which roused a cry from you.

“Fucking tight! I’m gonna break you so much you won’t ever forget about me. You understand, darling?”

“Yes, yes, please fuck me!” You cried out, reeling from both the sting of your muscles caused by his forceful entrance, and the familiar warmth filling you full.

Without bothering to warm you up, he began a breathtaking pace despite his overwhelming intrusion. You didn’t mind, though. In fact, his thrusts were making your moans irrepressible and your thighs tremble in delight.

Jungkook places his head between the valleys of your covered mounds, not missing his faint grunts, lost in his own pleasure.

“You like that, huh? You like the idea of being fucked outside, baby girl? I’ve had enough this bullshit,” He growls with a series of rough jerk of his hips, forcing a cry of his name out of you.

“That’s right, moan my name. Just wait until I get you all alone tonight, I’ll make sure you won’t ever think of breaking up with me. Do you hear me?” He warns darkly, emphasizing the severity of his threat with a shove of his dick so deep his tip was heavenly kissing your precious spot from your insides.

“Oh god,” you lamented, deliriously.

You could already feel the building up in your abdomen just as fast as he started rocking into you. You’ve known him long enough for you to easily sense it was the same for him too, concealing his moans with his mouth latched onto your prickly skin.

“That’s right. Come for me!” he grunted in between powerful thrusts.

His command did the trick, sending your body forward as you exploded, your walls tighten around him with each snap of his hips against your pelvis. Soon enough, he jerked off his load inside you with a growl rumbling on his chest.

Grimace creases on your expression as he cautiously pulls his cock out, following his load combined with your juices gushing out of your pussy down to the insides of your thighs.

Barely recovered from the earth shattering orgasm you had for the first time in three months, you heard a series of banging coming from the other side of the door.

“You done, lovebirds?” Your eyes clenched shut in realization, quietly plotting the assassination of some guy named Jimin.

“Thanks for ruining the moment,” Jungkook retorts back. “Not a problem. You guys seriously need to get the fuck out, I ran out of beans in the jar and try not fuck each other here next time, yeah?”

Amused with the scene unfolding, Jungkook casually pushes your underwear back to its place, smoothening your skirt down as if nothing inappropriate had occurred here. He kisses the tip of your nose, before turning the knob of the door.

Couldn’t this get any more embarrassing?

~~~

Thank you for reading and apologies for any spelling/ grammatical errors. I havent edited this yet. Part 2 will most likely be posted on Monday or Tuesday :)

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines

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thr-333 · 3 years

Text

Drastic Measures- Part 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Chill~

Wrote it all in an hour and 20 minutes just about? Not bad, not bad at all.

Ao3

First< Previous

----------

“Why! Why does it have to be so cold!” Marinette pulls on her coat tighter.

“Why did you come if you’re just going to complain?” Damian scowls, looking over the list they were given.

“Dick asked me to,” Marinette shivers, “Besides I need to get out and see the city, you said you would show me,”

“I only agreed to this because Dick insisted I apologize for trying to kill you,”

“You were trying to kill me?”

“... No?”

“Damian,”

“Fine,” He pulls off the sweater he was wearing, the one she had made him, “My bad, now keep warm,”

“My bad is not an apology,” Marinette chides pulling the sweater on, “If you didn’t like the sweater you could have just said so,”

“That's not-” Damina turn to see her smirk, tutting then turning back around, “You're incorrigible,”

“Your apology is accepted,” Marinette giggles skipping slightly to catch up, she takes note of how he shivers as a gust of wind blows through, “Hey you're cold now right? I have an idea,”

“I’m not cold,” Damian snaps, picking up the pace, “Unlike you, I have more discipline than that,”

“Oh please, you grew up in the desert right?” Damian glares at her, “What? You think I didn’t know anything? Maman not as good at hiding things as she thinks she is,”

“Be careful where you say that,” He warns, they walk for a little while more the temperature dropping. Marinette continues to keep an incredulous eye on Damian. After ten minutes he sighs, “What's your idea?”

“It involves me getting on your back,”

“Not a chance,” Damian tuts, “You could stab me in the back,”

“Literally or figuratively?” Another glare but Marinette just smiles under it, “Fine then, I’ll just take this sweater off and we can both freeze,”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian snatches it off her, “I’ll just wear it,”

And so he does. They walk for a while longer Marinette simultaneously congratulating and cursing herself for picking such a warm fabric for Damian's sweater as she shivers in the cold Gotham winds. Her teeth are chattering and they are still a long way off from their destination. Marinette starts to slow down, ever since she had become ladybug her tolerance to the cold was lowering, like how Adrien's eyesight at night kept improving; although she probably got the short end of the stick for that one. Her thoughts are interrupted by a long suffered sigh from Damian.

“Fine, we’ll do your plan,”

“Really?!”

“If we actually want to get there today, yes,”

---

“This was your plan!” Damian shouts as they run down the street.

“It’s a great plan!’ Marinette clings to his back.

“Everyones staring,” Damian scowls, the sweater just big enough to stretch over both of them locking Marinette against his back.

“Then run faster!”

“Maybe if you stopped strangling me I would!”

“Oh please, stop being dramatic,”

“Why don't you start running and we’ll see whos being dramatic!”

“I could probably get there before you!”

“Yeah right, you-”

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Marinette tugs, Damian lets out a choked sound stopping as he brings his hands up to remove hers.

“What,” He is unable to get her off with the sweater around them both.

“Pet store,” Marinette shimmies down, managing to get out with some difficulty, “Look how cute- wait,”

“Where are you going!” Damian calls as she storms into the pet store, he trails reluctantly behind her. Marinette walks right up to the desk slamming her hand down.

“Excuse me are you in charge of this store?”

“I’m the manager, yes,” The man raises an eyebrow looking up from his newspaper.

“Are you aware that the enclosure out there is filthy?”

“Animals get dirty,”

“It’s a health code violation,” Marinette scolds, “You're going to make the animals sick,”

“Tt, she’s right,” Damian looks around the store, the rest of the cages in even worse condition, “Just what sort of business do you think you're running? These are live animals, you can’t even see into the fish tank at this point,”

“I’ve followed company policy,” The manger huffs, going back to the newspaper adding a mocking, “So if you want to take it up with anyone take it up with them,”

“Oh I will,” Damian hisses, before going to the other end of the store intently tapping at his phone.

“Ha, have fun getting bounced around the phones for the next ten hours,” The manager barks, Marinette rolls her eyes turning back to him.

“Look it may not be required by your employer but try to have some compassion these are living creatures, they look miserable,”

“Well then, why don’t you buy them if they look so miserable,”

“That's not the root of the problem and you know it,” Marinette reasons with the unreasonable, “You’ll just replace them with more animals, this place isn’t fit for that,”

She could just feel the negative energy coming from the place, a place of suffering for those who had no way out. Her magic had perked the animals up a bit but that wouldn't solve the problems at hand. Not that any of this seemed to get through to the manager as Marinette kept arguing. She brought up her phone and articles to help support her argument. Only finding to her disdain that the pet store franchise itself had a long history of animal abuse, that this was the norm, not an exception. They just threw money at any lawsuit that came their way and bribing inspectors.

“Why are you even working here if you hate-”

“Excuse me,” A new customer walks up, Damian close behind, “Could I look-”

“Do whatever you like!” The manager snaps, “Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”

“Do you treat all your customers like this? No wonder your not getting any business if the facilities alone didn’t scare people off,” Marinette finally snaps. Damian, dare she say looks impressed, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“You’re insulting me now?”

“I’ve been insulting you the past hour, nice of you to catch on,”

From there it devolves into a full argument. They rage while Damian and the other customer poke around the store, talking to each other. Damian keeps on making calls and Marinette wishes he would stop and come help back her up, he seemed just as disgusted with this place as she was. But whenever she sends a look his way Damian just brushes her off going back to his call.

The argument escalates. Marinette's magic lashing out, subconsciously sending the animals into a frenzy. Barks and howls ring out mixed with cat yowls and whatever noise the other animals can manage.

“Quiet down you!” The manager roars, winding up to hit a puppy yapping at him, Marinette moves just a fraction of a second too slow.

“How dare you,” Damian catches the fist, twisting the arm in a painful unnatural position, “You’re fired,”

“You can’t fire me!” He struggles in Damian's grip, who in turn looks completely unfazed by the effort.

“Actually I can,” Damina flips his screen around to show a contract, “I just brought the company,”

“You what?!” Both Marinette and the manager shout at the same time.

“Yes well, it was easy enough to get in touch with the president of the company, when I put in my offer he laughed me off,” Damian shrugs letting the shell shocked man go, “So I called in one of our best lawyers,”

Damian nods to the other customer, who nods back.

“She built a case for us compiling evidence from this store, thank you for full access by the way,” Damian looks smugly at the manager gaping like a fish, “Other lawyers were in charge of inspecting other stores and researching past allegations, and I had some working internationally look at the branches in other countries, the results were not flattering,”

Damian's glare turns cold and piercing. Marinette had been on the receiving end of that glare and would like to think she handled it better than this guy was.

“Couple that all with the declarations I recorded from you arguing with Marinette,” Damina inclines his head to her, Marinette nods kind of dumbly, “And we had quite the case to shut the business down, you can guarantee the Wayne influence and lawyers would prevent this all from being swept under the rug,”

“Wayne?!”

“Yes, and as you can imagine after we sent through the case file the owner wasn't laughing me off the phone, he agreed to my price,” The man was sweating buckets now as Damian advanced looming over him, “The contracts aren't finalized or signed yet but you can guarantee by the end of the week I will own this place,”

Damian leans over him as the manager tries to sink into the floor.

“So. You. Are. Fired.”

---

“So are you going to teach me the glare that makes grown men pee their pants and run for their lives or do I have to figure it out myself?” Marinette teases, picking through the stocks in the back.

“You wouldn't be able to pull it off,” Damian shoots back, taking the bag she hands him, “An emergency demand was put out for new workers, they’ll be here soon to do this,”

“Oh no you don’t you little rich boy,” Marinette laughs at the face he makes, “You don’t just get to roll through here, throw some money at it and expect your job to be done, you took this company on so show a little responsibility,”

“I am taking responsibility,” Damian scowls, “I fully plan on improving this place,”

“What? By hiring someone to take over with the vague demands of ‘make it better’?” Damian sour look is all the answer she needs, “No way, this is your own responsibility and no one else's, so you need to take a long hard look at what's wrong and figure out how to fix it,”

“If I recall this all is partly your fault,” Damian stacks another bag where she told him too.

“If I recall I didn’t tell you to buy an entire pet store franchise,” Not that she didn’t approve, “But fine, I’ll help you out if you want,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You didn’t have to,” Damian huffs and looks away, Marinette smiles and picks up a bag of food, “First things first, the food is horrible quality, it’s all filler with little nutritional value,”

“I’ll order new stock right away,” Damian takes out his phone, Marinette snatches it from him.

“Hold on now,” Damian gives her that little put off look she finds adorable, “You have to look at all the problems first then make a plan of action or you're just running around like a headless chicken,”

“Your point?”

“The staff are also underpaid, it’s not enough to live off and certainly not enough to motivate a good work ethic,” Marinette hands back the phone, Damian pockets it, “So before you go around firing everyone that's ever worked here why don’t you try changing the bones of the company then picking out the bad seeds?”

“Alright,” Damian concedes, “... You have a point,”

“Was that tough to admit?”

“The only excruciating part of it is your smugness,”

“Why hello kettle,” Damina gives her a light glare but she just laughs it off.

“All these changes are going to be expensive,” Damian frowns looking through the statistics the lawyers had sent them, “The company was already falling into debt,”

“It needs a hook,” Marinette hums, “Something new and unique that no other chain has…. I got it!!”

She brushes past him, going for her sketchbook and starting the brainstorming process.

“Would you like to share your epiphany?” Damian asks after about five minutes of watching her sketch. “An exclusive pet clothesline!”

“Oh boy,”

---

“See I was right wasn't I?” Marinette finishes fixing the outfit onto Titus.

“I was under the impression you were going to make something vapid and ridiculous,” Damian deflects, looking at the raincoat Marinette had made for Titus, it fit him perfectly and worked well with his fur color as well, “This is at least useful,”

“Wow, that might be a bigger compliment than ‘it’s well made’ or is it?” Marinette cocks her head to the side, “Should I start a ‘Damian's compliments’ tier list?”

“Do not,” Damian calls Titus back to him, taking off the raincoat, “This should at least partly help make up for the new expenses,”

“What changes should we make first?” Marinette follows Damian inside, already sketching new designs into her book.

“There's no point in launching the pet clothes until the company goes through its rebrand, and that will take some time anyway,” They settle in a study they had commandeered to work together in, a sewing machine up near the window, “By the way whats your design fee?"

“Hm… make me a co-owner and we’ll forget about the design fee,” Marinette smiles as Damian doesn't immediately look disgusted by the prospect, “Besides If I recall this is partly my fault,”

“Fine co-owner,” Damian rolls his eyes at her, “I guess we’ll be drafting a new contract,”

“Make sure our shares are 50/50,”

“80/20,”

“Awe you’d let me have 80%”

Damian gives her a withering glare with no heat.

“50/50,” Marinette holds out her hand, “Equal,”

“... Equal,” Damian takes her hand, “You better design a lot of clothes,”

“Already on it,” Marinette holds up her new sketchbook, dedicated to just this, “Plus I’ll be part of the planning so let me in on it,”

“I was-” Damian cuts off glaring towards the door, Marinette follows his eye to see Dick and Adrien caught like deer in headlights looking at them with phones held up.

“Adrien!” Marinette starts towards them getting overtaken by Damian as they both start sprinting.

“Delete it or I destroy your phone!” He threatens, chasing them down the hall.

“Already backed it up to several computers!” Dick calls back, disappearing around the corner, the three yells disappearing into the distance. Marinette chuckles to herself, going back to finish up her designs.

--------

No tag list :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #MLB #ML #ml fic #Marinette #miraculous marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette

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imagine-that-one-thing · 3 years

Text

Styles || 17

Come Fly With Me

December 2015

The path of life is such a long dwindling journey that it sometimes cannot be walked alone. After all, how good can life be if it isn’t shared with anyone else?

According to Greek mythology, humans were initially created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives searching for their other halves.

If I had ever been a believer of Zeus splitting two humans for them to come together and find themselves whole again—it wasn’t until September of 2014.

Here I sit, over a year later, since I came across a woman that has been nothing but pure sunshine in a gloomy world. I press my cheek to my hand as I tilt my head, staring at the professor, who is doing his best to keep us all interested in his lecture. My mind keeps wandering from the fundamentals of business and trade, which found itself wrapped around the concept of Elise. Since the wedding last month, my world has turned at a rate that I cannot keep up with. It’s enthralling and busy at the same time. Yet, oddly enough, I love it. I am sure the high will wear off soon, and I will hate that my feet don’t stay on the ground for very long, but I intend to soak up everything that I can while Jamie is willing to teach.

I fly out to Ottawa, Canada, tonight to do an international deal with Jamie. I have not figured out my approach for my plans. I intend to outline things on the flight with Jamie. I know that I will have to negotiate a lot with this trip, something I have not yet done, but I am hopeful I can succeed. Jamie had brought the idea up to me that remotely bargaining could be a tool to our advantage. I wouldn’t oppose this idea; existing email bargaining systems can perform many functions but cannot determine the context of the negotiations. I am thinking of taking the bold approach of writing up my plans, expectations and prices before handing them to the client, allowing them the opportunity to counteract if they wish. I don’t like to do deals over email before arriving. I want to have a basis that can’t be misconstrued. When it comes to institutional or corporate investors, I have to be firm and use my words so that the client cannot use them against me. It is a brutal world out there when it comes to corporate investors. They already know what they want and what they are doing; there is no room for any fault or a lack of confidence.

I shake away my thoughts and tap my pen against the desk. I am ready to leave. I have grown to dislike sitting in a room and having to learn visually instead of being hands-on. I don’t like sitting still and reading or watching PowerPoint slides while a professor throws the business world at me. I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say that it is bothersome. Aside from business, I have Logan that needs my attention. As much as I do my best to ignore his existence, his 999 texts eat me alive. He sent the code word when I was on the yacht with Elise’s family. Once I got off the yacht, I called him, and he informed me that he needed my help and would get back to me when the doctors had everything sorted. Today, they have everything sorted, and I have to be the bigger person to help the man who ruined me as my father did.

I look down at my phone and smile to myself as I read her text on my phone.

“Can the CEO meet me for coffee before he flies off again?”

“Yes, Darling… Waiting for dismissal. — CEO Harry.”

I tap my pen against the desk, my eyes staring at the laptop screen as the professor continues to ramble on about some sort of business issue I am not interested in— I want to go. I want to get the drive to the hospital, and the blood draws over with— I want to escape the demons before they consume me.

I close my laptop and grab my notepad before standing to my feet and walking towards the door, “Harry,” Adam grabs my attention, “Swear I haven’t seen you in a while, wanna get drinks?”

I smile and shake my head, “Heading out of town for work, how about next week?” I offer, somewhat missing the times we would hang out and have a few drinks.

“Tuesday?” Adam offers, “Beer and burgers. But, of course, you can’t cancel if they’re at my place.” Adam comments, reminding me that he lives in the same apartment building as I do.

“I will do my best. How is your internship?”

“Kicking my ass, Harry. How do you juggle everything and stay awake? I am dead tired.”

I laugh and shrug my shoulders as we walk out of the room, “Coffee is my best friend,” I respond, taking the cobble path towards the coffee stand that we have on campus. It isn’t the best coffee, but it sure is a lifesaver.

“I am wired on coffee,” Adam informs me, stopping in line with me.

“Try adding a shot of whiskey; might help,” I chuckle, “Does me wonders some nights.”

“Way to go in encouraging bad habits,” Adam laughs.

“Bad habits are my speciality… I need a cappuccino with two sugars and one with a double shot of espresso,” I order at the stand, “And whatever he wants,” I gesture to Adam, taking my wallet out as Adam orders his coffee to keep him awake for the morning.

I hand my card over and wait on my coffee, keeping small talk with Adam. It has been a while since I have had a minute to talk to anyone for more than a few minutes. Lately, I have been rushing around and working. I have barely been on campus.

I smile when Elise comes into view and walks towards me, her books in her arms with her bag hanging over her shoulder and her jacket overlapped over her arm. Adam gives me a soft nod before walking off, leaving me alone with Elise. I shake my head and chuckle, holding the coffees in one hand and using the other to take her books, “You, my darling, amaze me with how you refuse to get a bigger bag,” I grin, watching as she slides her handbag down her arm and places it to rest on my wrist while she slides her jacket on.

“Look,” Elise breathes out, “I walked from the other end of campus to meet you, be nice,” … “Oh, look, you made it to campus,” Elise kisses my cheek.

“Smartass,” I grin, “Here is your coffee, just as you like it,” I gesture towards the coffee cup in my hand that is closest to her.

She takes her handbag from its resting position on my wrist before she takes her coffee, bringing it to her lips and letting out a sigh of relief. I raise a brow, “Rough day?”

Elise nods, “How the hell do you hold so much in your hands,” she gestures towards the fact I had two coffees in one hand.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, not having much of an answer for her. “Do you have another class?”

“No, I have to study and do an assignment. Exams might kill me. Do you?”

I shake my head, “No, I need to run a few errands. Do you want to meet at my place so I can see you before I leave?” I offer.

“Yeah, is it alright if I go there? It’s a quiet place to study.”

I nod my head, “Of course, Elise. I should be done in an hour or so. Do you want me to drive you?”

“No, I have a few errands as well,” Elise responds as my phone begins to ring. “I will see you tonight,” she leans up and kisses my cheek before walking off to leave me with my phone call.

Damn Logan.

When I got off the phone with Logan, I headed straight to the hospital, where Logan’s doctors are waiting for my arrival.

The automatic sliding doors open to welcome me with warmth. I take a breath and exhale as I step into the emergency room. The low lights flicker for a brief moment while I gaze around. The room is lined with beat-up chairs chosen by people who have: broken limbs, cuts, red noses, bruising, and god only knows what else.

The odour of antiseptic, cleaning products and hand sanitiser fill my senses, and I screw my nose up for a minute. I can’t stand the fragrance of hospitals or even the uncanny quality of them. I eternally discover them to be dull. Hospitals quite honestly intimidate me.

I am a man who is barely overawed, but I despise hospitals, the essence, the sounds, the awful illumination, and the food, for Christ's sake, the food… It is terrible. Not to mention, some people come to the hospital knowing they won’t be leaving again with their lives.

Hospitals are gloomy and terrifying.

I stride closer to the desk where a woman is hunkering behind it while subtly eating crackers. She smiles at me before I give her my details. “Harry Styles, I am here for a directed donation.”

For a moment, I assume she will make me go perch on the chairs in the waiting room. I will have to pick who I want to sit closest to: The sniffling little child that is clinging to its mother and whimpering between each symphony of coughing, hacking and wheezing sound or the man holding his arm in his hand, looks painful and broken.

Thankfully, the woman opens the ER doors for me and grants me through, ordering me a list of instructions on how to get to where I am going.

I stride down the brightly illuminated corridors that seem like a walking ghost town, and scarcely anyone appears to accompany the grounds. Even the nurses are withdrawn and depressed. I don’t blame them; they work in a place where not everyone makes it back home. The floor is shining clean, and the long-drawn corridors full of patients never seem to end. I can’t help but shudder at the few moaning, groaning and whimpering sounds. I pray I don’t have to walk these halls again for a while.

I stand at a desk, utterly confused as to where the hell I’m meant to go. They change the locations every fucking time. The nurse gives me a weary smile that I can perceive as fake, and in return, I give her an equally feigned smile.

The rustle of paperwork and a pen clicking takes my attention for a brief instant before my eyes spring back to the orderly in front of me. I softly give her my details and why I have wandered half this hospital to reach this area. For a moment, I assume she will provide me with another unending list of instructions on how to get to the next area, almost as if I am on a wild goose chase without a damn map. Finally, I am passed off to the nurse that is writing in a chart, and she gives me the same stunted smile the other two have given me.

I am sorry to be a nuisance; believe me, I don’t want to be here either.

“This way,” she gestures for me to follow her, and I do just that, following her to a seated area. “Take a seat and get comfortable while filling this out, and I will get things ready.” She instructs me while delivering me papers and a pen.

There are so many other things I would rather be doing. Filling out paperwork in a hospital isn’t one of them. Likewise, I didn’t think I would be completing a donor registration at this hour either. I hate these damn things. You’d think they would have it on file.

1. Feeling healthy and well today?

2. Currently taking an antibiotic?

3. Currently taking any other medication for an infection?

I hand the delightful lady the paperwork before she begins the initial process: she takes my temperature, haemoglobin, blood pressure and pulse. Surprise surprise, everything was fine despite the blood pressure being slightly high. How could it not? I am assembling in a hospital, and I also have my head swirling with many things, including the fact that I leave for Canada in a few hours and have not bothered to pack.

“Drink this,” the lady hands me a glass of water, “I will be back in a moment. Just relax.”

I get comfortable in the chair and drink the liquid the woman instructed me to drink.

My phone begins to sound, and I look down to see my mother calling. I answer the call and bring my phone to my ear, “Hey, Mum,” I greet with a small smile.

I am glad that my mother and I are slowly managing to find our relationship again. I don’t think she forgives me for leaving for London and not returning very often, but I am hopeful she understands my reasons.

“Hey, Harry,” Her tone of voice isn’t as happy and delightful as it usually is. I can only hope another tragedy has occurred, and she and my sister need a little extra help.

“What’s the matter, Mum?”

My Mum grows quiet on the other end of the phone before she clears her throat, “I need you to call your sister. She has no job and is trying to hide the fact she is drinking.”

“Mum, I cannot fix her. She is a grown woman. She needs to find herself a job and stop—”

“Please,” My mum cuts me off, her voice pleading with me. It breaks my heart to hear my mother so down and out because she doesn’t know how to fix one of her children. My sister was doing fine when I was visiting, but I know it will take time for my sister to adjust and improve her life entirely.

“I will call her. I need to go.”

“Please don’t become distant.”

“I won’t. I have to go; I will call you later. I love you.”

My mother responds with an “I love you” before hanging up the phone. I am unsure of what to say to my sister. I have already said everything possible, yelled, talked calmly, and done everything; the woman will not listen. The only thing left for me to do is drive her to a facility that will help her more than I can. Or I move her to London with me. I think her getting away from that small town we grew up in might help her as it has helped me. Escaping demons and chains can be the thing that allows us the most. However, I don’t think she will leave my mother.

The nurse walks back into the room, “I have to ask you your name, address, and date of birth again,” The woman smiles as she awaits my answers. I recite my answers, once again confirming I am who I say I am. “Great, may I have your arm so we can get started?” she politely offers.

I roll up my sleeve, and I grant the lady my arm, “Married?” she questions melodiously, and I glance at her.

She cleanses an area on my arm, and I feel the coldness of her sterilising some of my arm. “Nope.”

“Any kids?”

I shake my head, “Not that I am aware of. So also, nope.” I respond.

“Hmm, not married, no kids, you’re right up my alley,” the lady chuckles as she fiddles with the needle between her fingertips. “What is a good looking man like you doing living the bachelor life?”

“I have a girlfriend,” I inform her, “Wouldn’t call it the bachelor life.”

“Ah, I forgot to add girlfriend to my list of questions,” the nurse smile while she inserts a brand-new, sterile needle to draw blood. “Don’t take my comments the wrong way. It was a distraction… So, how is she?” she requires as I feel the pinch and uncomfortableness in my arm.

I chuckle and nod my head, clever tactic; the last time I did this, the nurse jabbed me multiple times before deciding she wanted to use my other arm.

“She is good. She is majoring in public relations and minoring in business, but I think she wants to do something with English.”

“Why doesn’t she?”

“She is in her third year already. She is likely to get her bachelors early and finish it this year.” I respond proudly, more than delighted to brag on Elise. I know that Elise hates her classes and thinks she is drowning in work, but I believe she will succeed and finish this year as she plans.

“Relax,” the nurse gestures towards my hand that is gripping the edge of the chair, “What about you? What are you majoring in?” she challenges while blood falls into the bag, and she observes it for a moment.

“Business, I just started my masters.”

“Twenty-one and already doing a masters, impressive.”

I nod my head, “Finished my bachelors early.”

“Does your girlfriend plan to go for her masters?”

I shake my head, “I don’t believe so. She is looking to find a job in the field. She is done with school,” I respond. I don’t blame Elise for not wanting to get a master’s degree. I had to push myself to go for mine.

“I do not blame her. This will take about ten minutes to fill. I will be back in ten. Just sit back and relax.” the nurse informs me gently before leaving me alone to be drained of some of my blood.

I lean back in the chair and close my eyes for a moment, deciding that this may be the last ten minutes of quiet time I get until I get back from Canada. I have a feeling this trip is going to be excessively hard and torturous. There is so much for me to do and little time. The client has me on a deadline and is rather demanding and blunt with the emails I have sent and received. However, the client does not intimidate me. On the contrary, I am rather intrigued by the power they are attempting to hold. What they do not know is that I have an offer that they cannot entirely refuse. They may not like the direct numbers, and I may have to adjust them, but my work is pristine.

I am distracted from my thoughts as the nurse comes back in with a glass of orange juice and something to snack on, “How are you feeling?” she challenges while I roll my sleeve down and take a sip of the orange juice, knowing better than to ignore the advice of the nurses.

“I’m feeling fine, thank you,” I respond as I stand to my feet, ready to head to my apartment.

“I am well. You are very polite.” she responds, “You are free to go. I have everything I need; just sign out at the desk.” She informs me, and I smile at her before I step out of the room and take a look around.

Again, I stand in the middle of a bland corridor. The dull beige tiles lead onwards past doors that are all identical and grey. Not even the lighting is different. It is dull. I wonder the hallway before reaching the same desk I stopped at earlier. “I have to sign out, at least that is what the nurse told me,” I half-smile towards a lady who undoubtedly is ready to go home. The woman hands me a board, and I follow the prompts of writing my name, the time and signing out.

I leave the dull hospital, more than grateful to be out of that antiseptic smelling, dull and depressing place. I glance at my watch as I sit in traffic, the idea of getting coffee popping into my thoughts. I groan at the thought of coffee, hitting my hand lightly against the steering wheel, “Damnit,” I mutter, remembering I am not allowed to drink coffee for the next few hours. I cannot afford to dehydrate myself. I contemplate for a moment before shaking my head and impulsively turning right the moment the traffic moves, driving down the street that has the best croissants and coffee. I may not be able to have coffee, but I know that Elise might appreciate a coffee as she studies, accompanied by her favourite chocolate croissants to tie her over until we get dinner.

❇ ❇ ❇

I arrange a few of my shirts in a duffle bag, watching as Elise lays on my bed, her legs crossed, her hair tumbling over her shoulder, and her eyes bouncing between my silhouette and the book. I frown for a moment, noticing how she isn’t glancing at me in the way that she ordinarily does. Her eyes aren’t vibrant or cheery, and her lips are not pursed into a grin. Instead, her lips are in a fine line. “What’s on your mind?” I softly challenge, breaking the silence while I fold the material of my shirt gingerly in my hands, doing my best to make sure my things don’t end up creased by the time I get to Canada.

“Where do you see us in five years?” Elise softly challenges, catching me off guard as she stares up at me.

I think for a moment, blinking at her, unsure of how to answer the question. I believe this is one of those trick questions women ask to start some disagreement. But, unfortunately, I don’t think I have the correct answers to this question. “Darling, I don’t think this is a fair question.”

Elise raises a brow and arranges her finger in her book, keeping her page marked, “How so? It is a question.”

“A question I don’t quite understand and believe is a trick question.”

Elise shakes her head, “No trick, Harry. Never mind,” Elise responds, opening her book back up and continuing to read.

Where do I see Elise and me in five years?

Five years from now, I am unsure how life will plan out. In five years, I could be far from here and somewhere halfway across the world. I don’t know where I will be in five years. I don’t know what I will be doing or how life will pan out. But what I do know is I hope to see Elise beside me in five years.

I am sure that in five years, Elise perhaps sees us married or with a family. I cannot say that I know that storyline in five years; I see us maybe being engaged. If I have a successful career and business in five years, I would happily marry Elise. I don’t want to marry her without having stability. I don’t want to start a family without knowing I will succeed at being a father and husband. I cannot fathom the idea of being like my father. The idea of this five-year plan scares me. All I know from the next few years is that I want Elise with me.

I lay a sweater in my duffle bag and clear my throat, “Elle, I do not know where you and I will be in five years, but I want us to be together. From the wedding comments, I assume you are searching to find out whether we will get married. I won’t lie; that all scares me, and I don’t want to get married until I have my shit together. But, darling, I can’t ask you to marry me when right now I can’t seem to keep my lights on,” I half chuckle to myself, still embarrassed by forgetting to pay the light bill, but it happens. Life gets in the way of things, and it isn’t always perfect like in the damn movies. “The best answer I can give you is that in five years, I want to be with you.”

“Harry, you do know that I love you, no matter what you have.”

I nod my head, “This,” I gesture around the small room of my apartment, “Is not the life you want for the rest of your life, a tiny apartment with a guy that is barely making enough to keep his head above water.”

Elise lifts her shoulders into a shrug before she settles her book down on my bed. Elise shifts herself off the bed and steps over towards me. Elise gently presses her hand to my shoulder, and I turn to face her with a small smile. “This,” Elise gestures around us, “This doesn’t matter. What matters is this,” Elise taps my chest, gesturing towards my heart, “It’s what’s in here that matters, you fool. Money comes and goes, don’t let it consume you.”

I smile to myself, remembering a time when I was younger.

When I was around five years old, my mother and I were sitting in front of the fireplace, the crackling wood and ambers keeping us warm. I remember it was a rough day at school. I did not have flashy clothes back then, and I didn’t fit in with some other kids. That particular day, I was made fun of for my shoes. My shoes were not broken, nor did they have holes in them, but there were old and a bit dirty. I was made fun of for not having a pair of shoes that was name brand, and in that moment, I remember I felt sad, not just because I was being made fun of, but because those shoes were my favourite pair. They weren’t my favourite pair because they were my favourite colour or that they were comfortable, they were my favourite pair because the day my Mum took me to buy them, she took me out to eat, and we had a full day together. Looking back now, I know my Mum had to have saved for me to have the shoes and take a day off work to spend some time with me.

That night, I told my mother that I was made fun of for the things I do not have and not having some of the other children’s lifestyles. My Mum smiled at me, shook her head, and said, “H, it’s not what you don’t have; it is what you have. You have a sweet soul, a mother who loves you, a warm bed to sleep in, and food to eat whenever you want. That is more than what some people have.” … “I will not apologise for not being able to give you fancy clothes, my sweet creature. But, it is what is in here,” She gestured towards her heart before tapping mine, “And what’s in here that truly matters in life. So don’t let what others say define you.”

My mother couldn’t have been any more right in her comment that day. It isn’t what we don’t have. It is what we do have that we need to be grateful for. I may not have the fancy clothes, enough money in the bank to pay every bill, and I may not have a father worthy of my thoughts, but I do have things that other’s do not. I have a mother and sister who love me, no matter what happens. I have a roof over my head, a warm bed to sleep in, and a woman that I adore with all my heart, a woman who turns the darkest of days into something bright.

“I know,” I nod my head, “I jus’, I want us to be successful before doing the whole marriage and family thing. So when I said we weren’t getting married, you know I didn’t mean that we never would, just not for a little while.”

I don’t want to be my father; I don’t want to have a family and leave them struggling. I don’t want to struggle and drag someone down with me.

Elise shakes her head, “Contrary to popular belief, that is not where I was trying to go with this conversation.”

“Well, where were you going with this?” I challenge, leaning down and kissing the top of her head before turning back to get my clothes organised for my flight that leaves in an hour and a half.

Elise chuckles before taking my wine coloured sweater from my hands, “I wanted assurance that you still wanted me in your five-year plan.” … “You’re not taking this sweater.”

“Of course,” I nod, “Elle, this is my sweater,” I laugh, gesturing towards the sweater she is wandering away with, placing it on the bed as she crawls on the bed and sits down with a grin.

“It is communal property, darling,” Elise responds.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, “Sure thing,” I smirk, letting her take the sweater. If that sweater gives her comfort, then she can have it.

As I do my best to arrange my items together, trying not to panic and run all over the apartment, I can’t help but take note of Elise unostentatiously reading her book; something mundane makes me smile to myself. It’s in this moment that she is engulfed in her book, paying no attention to me, that I think about how nice it would be to have this view every day and every night, to have her living with me. But then, I shake my brief solicitudes and get back to packing. “Elle, are you going to stay here or stay at your parents’ house?”

“Not sure, why?” she inquires, her nose still attached in her book.

“It’s going to snow and ice over. Your parents’ house is a bit far from campus to be driving in these conditions.” I familiarise Elise with the conditions that are persisting in occurring in the next few days.

Elise elevates her eyes from her book and raises a brow, “It is December, Harry.” Elise proceeds to stare at me as though I’m bonkers and have entirely lost the plot— in which, some days I believe I have lost my everlasting mind— but in this instance, I’m altogether sane and looking out for her well-being. “It is always like this. It isn’t like it will be worse.

“Baby, I’m serious. They’re calling for ice, snow and power outages. It’s a bad snowstorm. It’s bad. Jus’ don’t want you driving forty minutes to and from your parent’s house in bad weather.``

Elise places her book down on my bed and leans over to the side table, where she grasps her phone, “You are insane,” she shakes her head. I assume she’s investigating the weather forecast on her phone, not believing me for a second.

I cross my arms over my chest, following as her brows knit into a frown and her eyes gradually leave her phone to glance up at me. “I believe I’m not insane after all, huh?”

“This is a once in a century thing. Snowstorms don’t hit us, and we don’t usually get snow until February.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen… But, if you stay here, I will let Adam know so that he knows to check on you.”

“You’re going to have the fuck boy check on me?”

“Oi, be nice. He just likes to have sex,” I chuckle, “He’s the only one who lives in the apartments that I trust,” I continue.

“If they don’t cancel class, I’ll stay here,” Elise informs me as I seize my navy blue button-down off the hanger, determining it’s time to put my business clothes on and begin getting myself ready to catch a flight.

Elise follows me intently, her eyes burning into me with every move that I make. I cock my head to the side as I stretch my tie around my neck, gradually tying it before I flip my collar down. “Alright, Elle,” I begin, “I’m hoping to be back in a few days. Call me if you need me, okay?” I crawl onto the bed as she’s lying in the centre.

“If I need you, will you fly back?” She curiously challenges with a smirk.

I nod my head, “Yes, darling,” I respond, being forced to settle my hands on either side of her to hover over her from her lack of movement towards me. “I’ll fly back if you need me. I love you,” I lean down and kiss her forehead before I leave a tender kiss on her lips.

Elise elevates her hands and pursues them up to my tie that is dangling at her chest, "Promise?"

I again nod my head, "I promise," I reassure her with a smile.

She benevolently draws on my tie and lures me closer to her, leaning up and kissing me delicately. At first, she caresses my lips a few times before her grip on my tie tugs at me, and she's kissing me profoundly. I'm startled by her intimate kiss but decide to welcome her with an open mouth. She continues with a long liquid kiss of delight that makes my heart beat faster and my nerves circulate through my body.

Elise's brazen hands shift from their position on my tie and investigate the texture of my shirt, her delicate touch to my body causing my head to spin. Wildness brews beneath the mild touch of her hands, a wildness that I don't want to tame, but I know I have to. She's tampering with me.

Elise draws away and gazes up at me with her captivating eyes. She knows what she is doing. "Are you okay?" I softly challenge.

Elise shakes her head, "I need you."

"Elle, I—"I begin, trailing off as her hand attains its way to the waistband of my pants, her fingers folding at my belt. The bedroom is soundless for a moment, her dreamy eyes gawking into mine as my breath hitches in my throat.

I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch, I have a—, oh, fuck me.

"I have a flight," I breathe out with a whisper, her palms hauling my shirt from where I tucked it into my pants. I begin to move away from my position of hovering over her; however, I halt as a deep primitive tug at my belt beacons the casual kiss goodbye will be far from casual. Elise's eyes wander from mine to where her hands rest on my belt, and I bite down on my lip, trying to combat the urge to give in to temptation.

I swallow hard before I lean down and take bold possession of her mouth, examining the walls of her mouth while her palms vigorously fight their way with the buttons of my shirt. Elise wastes no time overpowering the shirt down my arms and forcing it off me, propelling it to the floor. Her hands caress every inch of my torso, gliding their way around my body like a road map, desiring to explore each dip and curve I have to offer.

While delighted by her kiss and passion, the tips of my fingers brush under her sweater and manoeuvre their way to her bra, my hands cupping her boobs, sending sweet shivers down her spine with every second. Her hands clutch my shoulders as her smouldering eyes draw me in, beckoning me like a siren's call. Elise slides upwards against me, a groan escaping my lips, her movement causing me to draw away from our kiss and breathe out heavily. Fuck. So much for a quick goodbye.

I draw at her sweater and stretch it over her head, throwing it to the floor, leaving it to lay by my shirt she viciously took over moments ago. I gaze down at her, admiring her as she smiles up at me. I grin, her chest rising as she takes a deep breath, my eyes dipping to her chest, admiring the lace cupped at her boobs.

I lean down and kiss her neck, leaving a path of kisses before I bite down benevolently, eager for a reaction. Elise lets out a breath as I spread my hand over her stomach and glide ever so nonchalantly up to her torso before gliding my hand back down, resting at her jeans. I pull away from the tender kisses on her neck, and I stare at her, taking in her expressions as I use one hand to unbutton her jeans and gradually urge the zip down. Her chest rises profoundly, and her hands squeeze my shoulders in anticipation. "May I?" I question, wanting her approval before I go any further.

Elise nods her head, and I lean down to kiss her sincerely, my cross dangling to touch her now fevered skin. I sweep my fingers across her waistband before I dip under her jeans, feeling the lace at my fingertips. "Lace," I grin, watching her swallow hard.

Teasing her comes with my pleasure as she twitches beneath me, and her body longs for my touch. Elise wraps her arm around my neck and draws me closer to her, attacking me with a bottomless kiss that screams eagerness and anticipation while I work hard to advance her jeans off her hips. I grin into our kiss, breaking away for a moment, forcing her jeans further down, far enough for her to kick the damn things off.

My hand glides down her torso, leisurely memorising the texture of her glowing skin, making its way past her panties and down her leg. Tampering with her is beginning to meddle with me. Heat and power radiate between our warm bodies, bodies eager to feel every inch of each other, bodies filled with a hot longing desire.

The silken length of her thigh becomes graced by my hand, my fingers dancing delicately on the inner face of her thigh. My head spins as I inch higher, my eyes focusing on the delicate, black lace underwear that is dangerously tempting….

❇ ❇ ❇

I’m late. I’m so fucking late.

The airport is chaotic, filled with veiled faces hustling and bustling with their pieces of luggage, most like me trying to catch a flight with minutes to spare. I take note of the businessman in front of me in his suite, his phone to his ear, while he tries not to spill his coffee on his hurried adventure in the same direction as me. Unlike him, I was smart enough to stop for a coffee. As much as I would like a coffee, I shouldn't push the envelope.

I'm stopped by a man who appears frazzled but doing his best to hold himself together under pressure, "Sir, I need to see your ticket for you to go further," the man presses, "And yours," He grabs the businessman, stopping him as well.

"Mate, I'm late."

"As am I," I huff, petting my blazer down, my hand slipping inside the jacket to obtain my ticket and my pass to be in the private area.

"I know," the man breathes, "But it's my job, I have to. I am sorry. It's my second day doing this, and I have been yelled at already, please..." He trails off.

I blow out my cheeks and nod my head, acknowledging he is doing his job. I hand him my ticket and the pass I have, my eyes glancing over to the man behind me who is struggling. I reach my hand over towards him, taking his coffee from his hand, preventing it from spilling as he frantically searches for his ticket. Finally, he pulls out his ticket and waves it around, "Here," he breathes out, "No, hold on," he mutters, talking to whoever is on his phone. "Thank you, pal," the man smiles towards me, and I hand him back his coffee. I take my ticket and pass and hurry around the airport worker who stopped us.

I hear voices at short intervals proclaiming the arrival, departure and delays of flights, praying each time that it isn't my flight. Jamie is going to kill me.

I bustle through the airport, politely squeezing past people as I weave in and out, attempting to make my flight. But the terminal is at the end of the fucking airport, and I feel like I'm running a marathon trying to reach it. I am not sure I will make it.

I groan when I hear my name over the intercom, a sweet voice beckoning my name, expressing that this is my final boarding call. I am fucked. Utterly, fucked.

I recognise Jamie standing at our terminal, his arms crossed as I reach him. "You're late," Jamie mutters, not pleased with me in the slightest.

I nod my head; he turns and marches through our terminal with me following behind. I pass flight attendants, declining their proposals to take my duffle bag or help carry my briefcase. They smile at me with each passing, the only sense of kindness I welcome as I feel Jamie's hostility while strolling beside him. I deserve it. I deserve for him to rip into me and tear me a new asshole.

I sit down on the private jet, and Jamie relaxes opposite me, staring me down as though I'm on trial for murder. Of course, I may as well be on trial for murder.

Fuck. He might kill me.

"I hope you have a good reason for being late. You better have a good reason." Jamie begins.

Oh, Sir, I have a good reason, trust me.

I nod my head, feeling like a bit of a kid that's about to be sent to their room with no dinner. "Well, what's the bloody reason?"

For a brief second, my mind races. I don't know what the fuck to say.

“Sir, it was Elise,” I begin, “She needed me.” I simply respond, concealing my smirk as I remember the aspect in her eyes when she said she needed me.

“She needed you?” Jamie still isn’t impressed, “Elaborate.” … “I don’t like tardiness, especially when there’s a flight to catch.”

I’m not sure how I’m meant to elaborate on this one. I don’t think he needs to hear about the events for me to be late.

“Well, sir, Elise needed tending to.” This is not going well. This is not the time to be a smug man. I swallow hard and adjust myself in the seat, trying to get comfortable. Jamie’s death glare is making my palms sweaty, and the tie around my neck feels as though it’s strangling me. “Elise was feeling unwell.”

“And what does that have to do with you? When my wife is unwell, she crawls in bed and wants me to leave her the hell alone. The woman hates my existence when unwell...” … “I’m having a hard time believing it was Elise’s fault.”

Sir, it most definitely was her fault. She started this mess, and I merely finished it.

I promptly clear my throat and begin my story, “I was ready on time, I was moments from walking out the door, I had put on my tie and said goodbye to Elise. I kissed her cheek, and I asked her if she was okay… she shook her head.” So I inform Jamie, altering the details slightly… majorly. But the dialogue is at least truthful. “I stayed with her a few extra minutes to make sure she was genuinely okay.”

Jamie presses his elbow to the armrest and raises a brow, “Hmm, okay.” Jamie relaxes slightly, seeming to loosen up and be understanding. “Here is your ticket,” Jamie hands me a boarding pass, “I have to stop off in Vermont, so when we land at Burlington International Airport, you will need to get on your flight to Canada, and I will meet you there as soon as I am done,” Jamie informs me of our slight detour.

Us flying straight to Vermont gives me an extra three hours in the air— it’s a good thing I don’t hate flying. “What’s in Vermont?” I curiously ask. “Because it might be pretty in Autumn, but it is not a business adventure sort of place.”

Jamie chuckles and nods his head, “You’re too smart for your own good, kid. I am meeting Conrad.”

I nod my head. “Harry, when you get to Canada, you will have to take the underground from Pierson international airport to union station, and across the street is our hotel, Fairmont Royal York Hotel.” Jamie begins to instruct.

“Yes, Sir. I can manage that.”

Jamie chuckles, “Good luck.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You have never been to Union Station, huh?”

I shake my head, “Sir, I haven’t been anywhere besides New York a few times when I was a kid. I couldn’t afford to travel much. The last time I travelled away from work was when I was seventeen.”

“Well, if you manage to catch your flight on time, once you get to Union Station, try not to let it overwhelm you.”

I again nod my head and dismiss the conversation, the reminder of New York being something I had wanted to forget for a bit longer. There is a part of me in New York that I want to forget. Not because I didn't like that person I was, but because the person who introduced me to the city I despise.

I remember New york from the years when I was younger. I recollect how it used to be and how it made me feel because we visited this one place. There is a building. It was a studio that was not just for the big-time musicians. I remember my Dad took Gemma and me there when we were younger. The first time I stepped foot into the studio, I was around the age of six. It was right around this time of year, right before Christmas. Back then, all I wanted for Christmas was a guitar, a standard guitar that I could strum in the comfort of my room, something for me to learn.

Walking into the studio for the first time, I remember how my eyes lit up when they saw all the guitars lined perfectly on the side, record labels lined the walls, and I felt like I was in paradise. But my sister didn’t enjoy the atmosphere or the vibe, no. She was more into trying to peek at who was currently recording a song in the studio. I, to this day, still have no idea who was recording when I first entered. I was amazed by the guitars and the owner.

As I got older, I kept going back to the same studio, finding it my haven. The owner was a loving guy and always had his doors open to anyone with a slight desire for music and melodies. Every Wednesday night, he would close down the studio to recording and allow anyone who wanted to learn the fundamentals of music and instruments into his studio. He would spend hours teaching and amazing young kids with dreams of being future musicians. I was one of the few that always showed up when I visited New York. The owner always seemed to gravitate to me and how I would play any instrument with such grace.

When I was seventeen, right before I had to start University and buckle down, I dragged my sister to New York with me for the summer. We spent most of our time in and out of different small coffee shops and stores. Every other night we would go to the studio where the two would sit the owner, talk, laugh, sometimes even cry while playing a few chords of our favourite melodies. Without a doubt, we would always end up humming and singing along to, 'I Don’t Want To Be’, by Gavin DeGraw. It seemed always to fit the scenes of my life.

"I don’t have to be anyone other than the birth of two souls in one. Part of where I’m going is knowing where I’m coming from.”

I never forget where I came from—a small rural area. I didn’t always have what I have now. Now, what I have is still not where I would like to be, but it is a step forward.

I always remember the struggles as a child and do my best not to forget where I came from or how I grew up. I may one day have all the luxuries I could imagine and so many opportunities I dreamed of, but they are meaningless if I forget who I am.

Just like everyone else, I came from two souls, forming one.

“I’m surrounded by liars everywhere I turn. I’m surrounded by imposters everywhere I turn. I’m surrounded by identity crisis everywhere I turn.”

My work of choice doesn’t always leave me in a room full of clean-cut and perfect people. In the few months I have been working with Jamie, I have come across a few people in business who are far from men of business. I haven’t always been in the right crowd or distinguish right from wrong the last few years. I have had a few setbacks and downfalls. It wasn't until a year and a half ago I backed away from certain people and pulled my head in. Still, I somehow learnt while being surrounded by imposters, liars, fakes, and just people in general that wanted me to fail as a person and as a business professional. I wasn’t always clean-cut and perfect. I'm still not clean-cut; I have my ragged edges, I have my faults, flaws, and my past. But, I have changed from who I used to be. I have grown and continue to become successful despite the setbacks and the people around me that may tear me down.

I remember the way the studio used to feel on Thursday nights, pleasant and peaceful. Not many people observed the way it was in its darkest hours and in the quiet times. To me— it was beautiful— I spent hours with the owner, we composed a few songs, towards the end, he became more of a fatherly figure to me. He understood my thoughts and the way my hands moved across instruments better than anyone else. Suppose anyone is ever fortunate enough to step foot in the recording booth; for whatever reason, they will see a rose on the wall.

The rose on the wall is the same as the one I will get tattooed on my arm— the replica is a tattoo Elise will trail with her fingers on many occasions. I need to find the time to sit down and get the ink on my skin.

I may not be who I used to be when I was seventeen and playing the guitar, harmonising ‘She will be loved’, with my sister. However, I am still the same seventeen-year-old who has a heart and a soul, one who found a home in a place that wasn’t his own— one that escaped a broken home to find a haven between the walls’ of music and solidarity.

Those walls’ grasp more heartfelt lyrics than anywhere else— those walls’ hold the character of others that will never be shared— they hold esoteric talent that will never escape.

Those walls’ grip the part of me that I had to leave behind— the part that couldn’t continue its journey when I went to University. The walls hold the thoughts and harmony of a seventeen-year-old who didn’t have an understanding of the real world.

I shake my head at my thoughts and the memories I left behind in a city- a city that I use for business and business only now. Then, I divert my attention to grabbing my MacBook from my bag and placing it in my lap, beginning to work for the next few hours of the flight.

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