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katyspersonal · 2 years

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6 for Micolash, Gehrman, or both (depending on your preference + if this got asked already lmaooooo)

(Ask from this ( x ) meme)

6) Psychological headcanons (tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

Oh all right... xD I did not expect to get to talk about these characters, but naturally I’ll choose both of them since there are only so many times I get concrete questions!

(For Micolash)

Whereas having plenty of charisma and sly, fascinating appear, he is not actually as ‘chill’ and composed as one could think! He is as much in struggle with anger issues as he is able to mesmerise with his lull-like tone. That is normally. Wearing his cage reduces it significantly, the effect of it on his behaviour is similar to sedating medicine or strong calming herbs.

So, normally, Micolash is quite splitting between roughly ‘a sentimental, sensitive, gentle, dignified intellectual willing to give and receive nurturing (especially in terms of education)’ and ‘a callous, vain, unceremonious, snappy, demanding crazy scientist that only wishes full devotion and worship’. It is however not as easy as to draw clear ‘two states’! His moods (and wishes) shift somewhat chaotically, sometimes hitting severe childlike neediness or complete apathy, too.

No, seriously, he can be hard to understand. Now he is almost yelling at the patient for being ‘pathetic’ and ‘useless’ and (righteously!) scared and tells them they should try to be like Adeline, next day he will hold this same patient’s hand and sob to them about how much he wishes to soothe their emotional suffering if they let him. Or he will mock and tease a close friend about something important for them, and later act bitter if they appear distrustful. Or he will cherish a tiny bug, and then switch heads of a dog and a crow between each other.

He is very good at playing piano. Yes, this one is simply inspired by a deranged piano in his theme, love it a lot. Naturally he is a huge bookworm. He ended up knowing a lot about everything as well - nature, history, literature, all that. Needless to say knowledge about ‘normal’ world soon turned to be useless in his eyes, however he sometimes still ruminates about it fondly.

He has permanent ‘lagging’ in terms of habitual skills - constantly forgets how to tie shoelaces, switches up between cursive and print font chaotically while writing, will not eat or drink until someone reminds him (or rather finds him passing out from starvation), sometimes will catch himself puzzled before staircase or a doorknob trying to remember how to use these... In fact, Nightmare of Mensis nature is a big relief for him, as ‘magic’ practically carries him everywhere (and even lets him run with untied shoelaces and not fall!). In the waking world? Yeah he is often helpless in tiniest things. However even in the Nightmare he’d need help in removing his Mensis Cage if he was to want to remove it because... yeah he forgets how to do it. :’)

Upon meeting new people, Micolash tends to close the distance very soon, sharing too much and developing strong attachment too soon. That lead him to making very intimate friendships fast, however not many are comfortable staying once he shows his “ugly” side too, so ironically he combines that with trust issues and clinginess. Over years in Byrgenwerth as he matured from young student guy into late adult and moreso man of medicine, this had progressed into becoming a huge control freak and manipulator - that was extremely useful when he started School of Mensis, however, so no pain without gain I guess?

He really loves it though when he finds someone who talks a lot; as much as he enjoys lecturing (and simply listening to his own voice xD), he likes to relax just once. He might not say much but he is actually paying attention to everything, even if person is ranting about some nonsense that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Back in Choir he was almost never wearing Blindfold Cap. All in all presence in the Choir was not pleasant for him - starting from lacking direct eye contact that he needs, personally, ending with the very concept of entrusting one’s mind and will to the ‘stars’ instead of aspiring for becoming one able to find this way. That’s his philosophy. That is also what he believed he was guiding his followers to, failing to realise he ironically himself became a very oppressive leader.

He developed the habit of becoming very distraught and anxious if he is not seeing nightmares for a few nights, fearing it is a sign of something divine ‘abandoning’ him. He believes objective reality could never be peaceful and beautiful and it is always ‘sweet lie’ no matter if a human or a God gives it, finding comfort in horrors and uglyness as result.

For as long as he himself remembers, Micolash is woefully bad at appreciating what he is given until too late, as he overlooked Rom’s unconditional love and respect before she moved onto listening to others (mostly Great Ones), or Damian’s devotion and fatherly patience before Damian started to fear him, not just for him- Heck, he wonders if he disregarded potentially good friendship from Archibald and Izzy too, sometimes. Watch him nevermind Wet Nurse who is by his side and only have his eyes on Kos now, lol!

If he wishes for someone to get beaten, he usually always has someone he can command do that instead, as he watches and gloats, maybe giving ‘advices’ sometimes. However if he is to raise his own hand at someone - he believes they should consider it a very big honour.

As little opinion as he has on the Choir, or people who remained Byrgenwerth students after Healing Church broke away from Willem, sometimes Micolash is stuck feeling sad and cold and yearning that back then they’d been more accepting of him. Deep down he is very lonely and still wishes for genuine love even if he had cast away every chance in the name of knowledge and transcendence.

Speaking of love, he is very bookish and nerdy and it is nearly impossible to flirt with him as he redirects everything to the smart facts and ‘bigger’ things! One might think he doesn’t have an inch of sexuality in him! ...Except for the fullmoons. This is when he becomes extremely sensual.

He tends to feel move vulnerable with women specifically though. This stems from the fact that he doesn’t do mocking laugher before ‘Oh, majestic~’ if you play as female Hunter! In fact, being a woman and angrily yelling at him is the most guaranteed way to wipe the ever-present smug smile from his face, he will feel uneasiness and pit in his stomach that he can’t explain. He just really doesn’t want women to be mean with him, he is in fact desperate for a motherly or mom-girlfriend attitude (with Kos as a peak of this dreaming), though he will try to keep his Big Guy Who’s In Control facade at his best ability.

(For Gehrman)

Gehrman is a strange mix of callous and gentle as well, but unlike Micolash, Gehrman doesn’t suffer from his feelings shifting chaotically! Instead, his curse is that he cannot express his tender side (or even realise it before too late). In younger (?) years, if he was to like someone - he could outright cherish a napkin they dropped like a relic, write a diary page all over with their name, craft them the best gift ever (that he would never actually give) but once that person actually talks to him - the dumbest, the most insensitive shit would leave his mouth! You never know if he is a jerk or just an idiot! He is only in touch with his caring and loving side when he is all alone, which... defeats the purpose.

However, unlike with Micolash that cherishes every single living being (until he doesn’t), Gehrman is consistent in his attitudes. He cherishes only and only and ONLY human life, disregards any of whatever monster/beast/mutant/Kin/God/whatever. This is the dark side of him; though there is something respectable about how much he’s devoted to defending the humanity, but it was number one cause of conflicts between him and Old Hunters that regretted Fishing Hamlet massacre or started to doubt purpose of the hunt.

Nuff said, he is top notch craftsman, with weapons or inventions or clothes. And he is never tired of having to detalize everything - in fact, the more details the better, as he loves to get lost in physical work! In modern era he of course would disdain mass production of whatever... and have a right for it, because he hardworking enough to replace a wholeass assembly line! xD Screw sewing machines as well, he will sew everything with his own hands! Wonder how he is able to accept printed books instead of writing every single one with a pen? xD /j But yes he likes to create things. I like to think that ridiculously elaborate embroidery of Willem’s clothes is his work. And Willem tried to stop him to the more minimal design, but Gehrman was too absorbed to listen.

Although being stuck in the Hunter’s Dream had weakened him mentally, overall Gehrman is an extremely tough guy. To a fault, actually - he bottles up a lot, doesn’t admit his fears and and doesn’t let even close friends to see him cry. Something akin toxic masculinity. He just gotta be a killing machine and a reliable worker rather than a human being, he gotta, you don’t understand! The good part of it is that he is very composed and level-headed when he is angry, he could never snap.

He hasn’t really learned a thing from ‘How to pick up fair maidens’. Think of every possible gag along the lines of ‘person writes a reminder on their palm and reads it all wrong’ or ‘person memorizes a cheesy flirting line but when they say it - the mix up words making it sound like something dumb or awful instead’. Unreal contrast to Micolash’s charisma, huh? Gee I have a blast still comparing these two.

His biggest regret in life is that he failed to be a reliable emotional help for Maria when she needed it during her crisis. He could never forgive himself for it, however he represses these feelings deeply. His second biggest regret in life is eventually animating the Doll through a ritual in the Dream, because loneliness started to drive him insane and he needed an assistant! At first he was feeling very disgusted with himself, to the point of sickness, as if he tainted his most precious memory for a selfish reason. But well, it was for the sake of the hunt too - he was mentally falling apart and sooner or later would have allowed some hunter to kill him to be free! Someone to take turns so not every hunter is on him would be helpful. He still doesn’t know Maria’s soul was summoned within Doll since she remembers exactly nothing, however he feels a bit guilty he failed to explain her how to be more humanlike because... well, he himself doesn’t really know that! He is a little scared of her, too, to the point of not being able to fix the manufacturing errors he made with her face since his hands were shaking too much that time. It just feels too much like touching face of Maria herself, and that is NOT allowed in his eyes, and never will be.

As a jaded Old Man (TM), naturally he has many stories from his life to share! In fact, ones before the whole mess with the dungeons and the hunt and the ascensions are almost equally as interesting! He tends to focus on particularly morbid and violent ones though, lol he doesn’t go to many parties xd

He is in fact waaaaaaaaay more ‘educated’ than expected, and he used to be just as curious as an average high-ranking Byrgenwerth staff! He used to be a teacher there, in fact. After all he did have interest in ascension too when he went at Fishing Hamlet. He also did invent at least two kinds of meteorite-cut weapons with unique properties, he discovered how to use crystallised old blood to enhance weapons, heck, trick weapons themselves as concept are his! He always finds the coolest ways to utilise the most useless materials. Basically he has every kind of talent as a pay-off for little social skills ahaha.

He’s been quite reckless from childhood, and had great instincts. His first ever kill count happened when a rabid dog charged towards him and his first reaction was to grab a sharp metal road and ready to fight it, instead of running. Bullies trying to mess with him as a ‘quiet weird kid’ would end up leaving him alone and declaring he was “crazy” - he never showed signs of fear, as if he was actually ready to die any moment? But maybe he was! Secretly, Gehrman found some dark joy in it when the hunts became a regular thing; the side of him that had him question whether he’s been a ‘callous monster’ all his life finally was useful!

Speaking of which, despite tender feelings that Gehrman possesses, he has less than average morality and through his life only adopts bits and pieces of it based on reaction of others - if it is strong enough. Like how he never felt in the wrong about Fishing Hamlet until something ‘moved’ in him seeing how much Maria, whose opinion mattered for him, was horrified and broken about it. Lives of innocent fish people? pfffffft! Disappointing a person he was trying to impress, however? Oh god oh fuck. ‘Protecting humanity from inhuman things’ is the one consistent principle he can hold onto as it is simple and direct, but finding evil within humanity is... complicated.

#bloodborne #micolash host of the nightmare #gehrman the first hunter #ask replies #bloodborne headcanons #thank you for the ask!#i love to talk about these characters!#they are very contrasting however both have sides that are not supposed to coexist haha

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allsassnoclass · 2 years

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jsdfjdfgdj this season also freaked me out more than the others, i was watching it with the lights on even i usually like to have as little light as possible to watch tv/movies :')) but i loved it so much i thought it was such a strong season, i can't wait for vol 2!! also favourite character is?? such a hard question i feel like? i just view all the kids as one entity and i love them all but this season i really had a soft spot for max, she finally had a major arc and sadie sink is amazing. also robin is so much fun. and the whole older kids gang is so cool. but also joyce and hopper are amazing (even tho i didn't care as much for the russian thing this season. definitely didn't hate it but it felt so far removed from the rest at times. but i still love them). basically can you tell i can't choose??? who's your fave are you better than me with this lol -taylor

@nervouswrecksos i also had to watch with the lights on lol i watched the first two episodes with my friend in the dark but after that i watched on my computer with a split screen so i could play solitaire and distract myself from the scary bits. i'm so excited for part 2 though it's going to be so fun to see how all of the little pieces fit together since right now the groups have no clue about what everyone else has been up to! the adults are the only ones who know hopper is alive the california crew are the only ones who know el's been taken the hawkins gang are the only ones who know about vecna killing people etc. it's going to be so interesting

mmmm i feel you on the favorite characters especially since i think the strength of the show is in the different group dynamics and different characters might go up or down in my rankings depending on the season, but i am a bit of a steve girl because i LOVE the progression from popular jerk to protective babysitter, plus i think it's fun to explore *waves hand vaguely* his whole thing in fic. i do also love dustin so it helps that they have a fun dynamic lol. but yeah every character has strengths and weaknesses and i think it's so fun that we've gotten to see all of these different group teamups over the seasons!!! each season it seems like there are different little subsections amongst the kids (joyce and hopper kind of always do their own thing) and that's super fun because it unlocks new dynamics every time

also! fun tie-in! i work at a theater where we have week long camps, and this week i'm doing a camp based on Matilda the musical with middle schoolers, many of whom LOVE stranger things, so today we did a movement exercise where they all had to move like the demogorgon and they collectively decided that the name of Matilda's telekinesis pose is "eleven," so that was fun

#ask #taylor #nervouswrecksos #stranger things spoilers #yeah i actually really really like this show #i was kind of lukewarm about it for a while but idk man i'm in a huge stranger things kick right now

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zorilleerrant · 2 years

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so I have this theory. and the theory is: whenever you get deeply invested in a new media franchise, the things you encounter in the first year or two are the ones that feel real to you, with the rest of the things feeling like support or secondary features (unless you get very specifically attached to something, but that would be the exception, not the rule).

so what this would mean is that the characters from the first season or two of a TV show are the most meaningful to you - if you started the show right at the beginning. if you started during season four and binged everything before, then all the characters introduced through season five feel equally important. or if you started on season ten, but you only went back to watch the earlier seasons after the show ended, then it’s only the season ten characters you really love.

for books, this would mean the book that was the current release in the series whenever you started reading is the benchmark. for video games, it’s whichever ones you played up until you got bored the first time. for webcomics, it’s whatever installment the thing was up to when you first caught up.

for multimedia properties, this is trickier. it’s a lot less time bounded. because it’s like... these two movies and this TV show, six versions of the video game, trading cards, a handful of tie-in novels but not the manga, and a bunch of specifically branded merchandise. (yes, this is about pokemon.) and that’s what’s ‘real’ about it.

and this is not just characters (although I think that’s the biggest split, probably), it’s also stuff like. plot points, like backstory revealed and macguffins and problems you might encounter. worldbuilding, like rules of magic/tech and places and types of items that exist. thematic elements, like political stances and recurring motifs and structural specifics of the narrative. they fossilize a little during the formative period when you’re getting really into the work.

this is, I think, what drives the tension between fans of different eras of a franchise. it’s not strictly that, though, because some people start from the beginning or go for everything they can get their hands on, and other people stick to one specific type of thing or only recent things. and maybe sometimes going away for a bit and coming back can restart the process, but other times it doesn’t really work that way.

but anyway I think this is a big factor in people’s discussions of which characters are important, and why sometimes people’s perceptions don’t match up with each other. this is why I think Zack Addy is a central character, even though most people go ‘who?’ and I think Castiel is a minor side character. but also why I think of Nine and Ten as equally The Doctor, but the ones before and after are only sort of really The Doctor. and why I love Jonas Quinn. all the arguments about the real plots and backstories and explanations for things - it all depends on when and where and how you learned to like the story.

#look i said something #this may be specifically a hyperfixation thing not sure if it works like this for neurotypicals or maybe to a lesser degree #maybe people could compare their casual interests to their hyperfixations and see if there's any difference there?#but lbr if we're talking fandom we're none of us neurotypical #fandom is mostly for people who are deeply obsessed through one method or another and I think a lot of people do it like this

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mishkakagehishka · 2 years

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repost from my old blog

(Update: here are Jamil and Idia)

Yandere and Overblot? Now you’re speaking my language👀

I’ll put these in a headcanon format for ease of reading. I’m going with the assumption that reader has taken up Yuu’s canonical role. Also, to preface, I’m writing this at a time when Ignihyde episode isn’t even finished yet, so the things I put as Malleus’ Overblot cause will definitely differ from what we actually get in the future.

Warnings for unhealthy relationships (reminder that yandere is a synonym for toxic), mentions of stalking, controlling behaviour, gaslighting, manipulation, unhealthy amounts of jealousy, kidnapping

Vil Schoenheit

The reason why he hasn’t confessed before that moment is likely because he was waiting for your confession

In love or not, he still thought it was beneath him to be the one confessing

Which is not to say he wouldn’t make his love obvious. Expensive gifts (mostly jewellery, accessories, make-up), going out of his way to “fix” your appearance (“Your tie is crooked” is an excuse to be closer to your face, “Let me fix your belt” an excuse to loop his arms around your waist), more frequent posting on Magicam (and then pestering you about it, he has Rook ask you if you’ve seen his new posts, just press “like” he won’t leave you alone otherwise), though, being friends, it probably won’t be obvious to you.

He’ll also randomly come over to Ramshackle with hands full of products, for a “spa day” meant to help you relax and rejuvenate your skin… while he talks shit gossips about every other student he saw you getting a bit too close to. Unsightly potatoes or not, he can’t risk you looking at other men when he’s right there.

He’s the type who gets real jealous real easy.

When VDC comes around, you will, of course, still be their “manager”, which means you will still accompany them to the competition itself

(I don’t even have to mention how elated he was at the new living arrangements that allowed him to be so close to you… and control so much of your daily life)

Which means, there’s no way around it, you will be paying attention to Neige for at least the two minutes their rehearsal would last.

Two minutes too long. Vil could handle you hanging around Adeuce and your other classmates (after all, that’s what the shit-talking spa days were for), but Neige is already a thorn in his side, and someone that is much harder to make a bad person you wouldn’t want to be around of

It just speeds up the Overblot, because he doesn’t wait until their rehearsal is over to check the net and have a moment of “He’s actually good, he might win, I’m gonna lose to Neige again”, he sees you smile once (1) while looking at their rehearsal and is already grabbing the juice and retreating to a secluded spot where he can poison it

In short, he doesn’t try to poison Neige out of a wish to win, but because he doesn’t want to even think about having to fight him over your affection

He’s not confident enough, and it kills him to think of having to give you up to anyone, least of all to Neige

He doesn’t stop to consider that Neige might not even like you because he’s convinced himself that if you caught the Vil Schoenheit’s eye, you’d catch anyone else’s - everyone was a rival to him

When the Overblot itself happens, he’s split

On one hand, he wants you by his side because he did it for you, after all

On the other hand, in that form, he thought himself ugly, unsightly, and he doesn’t want you to see him like that

Depending on your reaction, it can go two ways, if you tell him you don’t think he’s ugly (whether you’re honest or just trying to get him to calm down doesn’t matter) he’ll convince himself that you’re absolutely head-over-heels in love with him and the two of you must be destined for each-other because how else would you think he’s beautiful in that form? And don’t worry - he’ll remember that when he recovers.

As in, he’ll fall into a complete delusion. When you thrash against him and tell him you hate him for kidnapping and isolating you, for controlling everything from what you eat to when you sleep and who you talk to, he’ll just pass it off as a lovers’ quarrel. You still loved him when he was like that, of course you’re just saying you hate him because you’re upset, but it’ll pass.

Or, if you don’t say that, he’ll probably even let the others run and get help from the teachers, as long as he manages to grab you. And he’s not letting go.

He’ll hold you from behind, so you can’t look at him, all the while telling you how all of what happened was your fault. For not looking only at him, for even thinking about Neige when you must have known how much he hated him, for not swallowing your pride and asking him to be yours sooner… Just keep up the conversation, if you distract him long enough, it’ll be easier to defeat him.

Azul Ashengrotto

Another one who won’t want to confess before the Overblot happens, but for different reasons

He grew captivated with you the moment he saw you at the entrance ceremony, but the prospect of a relationship flared up his old insecurities

He’d settle on being friends with you because of that, but he will be working behind the scenes on ways to make you his

Not quite a stalker, but gets obsessed with you to the point where he learns your entire schedule, what you like, what you hate, everything he can learn. His eye for business helps him a lot there.

Won’t even send the twins to stalk you because he thinks if you notice them and actually take a liking to one of them, he’s done for

He’ll become your friend by running into you during breaks between classes, asking you if you’re faring well in this new world, offering you help with your studies, or with anything else really, and so on

Will also try to rope you into signing a contract with him. If you’re smart, you’ll leave it at “Let me think about it!” because he will be adding a clause vague enough to force you into moving to Octavinelle or even getting directly into a relationship with him

It’s hard to be insecure when you’re bound by contract to love only him, right?

He does take notice of people you hang around most and will try to rope them into contracts, as well - he assumes if he takes whatever qualities you like in them, that you’ll like him more

Now, when he Overblots… that’s when the insecurities really flare up

He’s stealing everyone’s magic, because he’s taking what he wants, what he thinks would make him better

But then he sees something that reminds him of you, and he remembers that, more than anything else, just how frustrating it was to keep his feelings bottled up, pretending that he’s happy being just your friend

The anger he had to push down when you came to him, ready to sign a contract, but for the sake of those two idiots, not because you loved him

And he then remembers that he also wants you

He’s not going to wait for you to come back with the photograph. He’s setting off to find you himself, and he will find you

Wastes no time in grabbing your arms, so you can’t leave, and begging you to be his

Azul is really pathetic and whiny about it, he’ll guilt you into accepting, saying things like, “I did everything for you!” and holding every time he helped you with any minor thing over your head, as if you owe him a relationship because he showed you how to mix two alchemy ingredients once

He won’t let up, and his grip will only tighten around you, the tentacles soon joining his arms to keep you fully frozen and in place, with every minute you don’t accept his “love”, his whines and pleading becoming more pathetic to the point that it’s kinda sad to witness

Then, at one point, he’ll start threatening you. Remember, he knows your schedule, he knows your habits, your interests and the things you hate, the things you’re scared of. He will be blackmailing you, or even telling you he’ll make your worst nightmares come true (you have a phobia? You can pray that he didn’t find out about it, it won’t help. He knows, and he knows how to utilise it)

Whether you fold and accept him or manage to somehow make it until Leona, Jack and ADeuce arrive without passing out due to lack of air from being squeezed by all his tentacles at once doesn’t matter

By the time he recovers, he’s already formed three different plans on how to make you his. He “confessed” despite all his insecurities and fears, it’s only proper that you accept, right? Besides, wouldn’t it be such a shame for the entire school to hear all of those embarrassing secrets of yours, or for that one thing that you’re absolutely terrified of to, just purely accidentally, happen suddenly?

Riddle Rosehearts

He had the least time to actually properly become friends with you before his Overblot, but you still managed to crawl into his heart in that short time

Crowley probably sped that up by entrusting your introduction to the school to him

Since Crowley can be certain that at least Riddle knows all the rules like the back of his hand, it’s faster and easier than telling a teacher or a different student

Riddle’s introduction to the school probably lasts an entire week, as he does want to make sure he tells you everything from what you have to do as a student, to what you absolutely mustn’t, and he’ll give you a tour of the campus

It takes him a very short time to “fall in love”, and it probably happens by the third day, when the rules are already out of the way, and the chatting during the tour turns into getting to know you, but he doesn’t figure it out immediately

He just realises that he wants to spend more and more time around you, inviting you to have tea at Heartslabyul, teaching you the Queen of Hearts’ rules, talking with you about your world…

Though he starts making his own absurd rules, and he expects you to abide by them. “We should talk at least thrice a day, don’t you think?” and “I don’t want you spending so much time with Ace, he’s a bad influence”

He turns very controlling, despite not figuring out his feelings are “romantic”, and will make up more and more rules for you to follow, all of which will serve to either a) isolate you from anyone he doesn’t approve of, b) make you spend even more time with him, or c) test how obedient you are to him

He’ll be devastated if you don’t explicitly side with him during the tart fiasco. By which I mean, he’ll be furious

It’s not about wanting to be right, he wants you to follow the rules as closely as he follows them, so why are you trying to say that the rule-breaker wasn’t in the wrong?

And if you then say out loud that you think Ace is in the right, or if you dare to phrase it like “I think Riddle is in the wrong”, he’ll be overcome with the most searing, burning jealousy and a sort of awakening

Very odd time to figure out he’s in “love” when he’s in the middle of a violent Overblot and collaring half his dorm, but it happens.

There’s no need to collar you since you have no magic, but expect to get restrained by the roses. The thorns will dig into your skin, and he will not care.

He’ll tell you you deserve it for supporting rule-breakers when he worked so hard to make sure you were obedient and proper, perfect for him

Riddle will also, at that point, mention that he’s fallen in love with you, and that you absolutely must be his, but that he has to first train you to be more obedient, since you’ve clearly forgotten all that he has taught you up until that point

He actually is convinced you’d be devastated to hear him criticise your obedience, so he thinks that that remark would at least make you ponder your “mistakes”

Because of this, he likely won’t learn anything even after he’s defeated, but will instead double down. He wasn’t weaker “despite being the one who always followed the rules”, he was weaker because his other half didn’t follow them.

He’ll just have to keep you in his dorm, and train you real well, until you can meet his mother. She has to approve of you and your relationship, after all, and, besides, you’ll realise how easy you have it with Riddle once you meet her. Then you’ll be thankful for what an understanding and patient boyfriend you have

Malleus Draconia

Yeah, he fell head over heels the moment he met you in front of Ramshackle that one time same as in canon

You weren’t even afraid of him, as if you couldn’t even feel his aura

Doesn’t consider the fact that you just can’t feel auras and/or don’t even know who he is, Malleus is convinced that you can feel the aura, but just aren’t afraid of him

What does that mean? You guessed it, you’re obviously his soulmate. He won’t stalk you, but he will become very obsessed with you and eager to make you his from the get-go

He’ll constantly be talking about you to Lilia, and Lilia (excited at the idea of Malleus falling in love) will just enable him, so, basically, the only person who could have talked him down and made sure the love that actually started out honest and pure stays that way… won’t lift a finger to help you when Malleus turns forceful and possessive

When you actually find out who he is during the VDC, he finds your flustered reaction to be very amusing, but, more importantly, he’s even more intrigued by the fact that even after that you still want to be his friend

Has seriously already started researching how to lengthen your lifespan, and even if it’s possible to make you into, at the very least, a hybrid of sorts. Maybe he could convince the court to let you get married if he frames it as a political alliance? The world of yours is, after all, something new and unexplored in Twisted Wonderland, surely an alliance formed by marrying you would be useful?

He tries to keep his true feelings hidden until he has all his ducks in a row, because, as far as he’s concerned, the courting process is: 1. he tells you he loves you, 2. you love him back, 3. you both immediately go to the Valley of Thorns and get married

But… the more he sees you hanging around other people, the more he hears about you being involved with the dorm leaders’ (and Jamil’s) Overblots, about you helping everyone, he keeps wondering how come you don’t give him that same amount of attention? Isn’t he your friend, too?

By the time you help Idia with the result of his Overblot, his patience has run thin, and the love has really turned into “love”

Possessive as all hell. When you return to campus with the Overblot Gang, he won’t let you leave his side.

He’ll hang around you during lunch, so that nobody else has the guts to sit at your table, he’ll make his midnight visits more frequent, until he’s visiting you regularly every night

And then, you forget to extend an invitation

It was probably something innocent, maybe a small celebration of one thing or another with you and a few others, probably only the single-braincell trio, nothing of great importance

But he knows what a lively celebration looks like, and when he notices it through the windows during one of those nightly visits… well.

He’s in the dorm in moments, shooting question after question. Why didn’t you invite him, your closest friend (he is your closest friend, right?), do you care so little about him, do you care about those people more, what are they to you, what is he to you?

If he gets the vibe that you don’t care about him as much as he cares about you from any of your answers, he’s losing it. Aura or not, the tension felt in the air is undeniable. It truly feels as if it’s getting harder to breathe and you might faint any moment, that’s how tense it is…

Or maybe it’s just his unique magic.

Between the process of putting the entire campus to sleep (to avoid a scandal that’d arise from anyone witnessing this, he still has the burden of being an heir and all the responsibilities that come with that) and the extreme feelings of jealousy and possessiveness, he Overblots

He makes sure to keep Lilia awake, though, because he’ll want his help when he takes you to the Valley of Thorns. After all, if Lilia, who took care of Malleus from infancy, says that you are right for him, and that you’d make a fine co-ruler (with adequate training), he’s certain it’ll be easier to convince the court.

Well, Lilia is very accepting of that plan, but does want to take care of the Overblot first

Honestly, I can see Malleus just letting Lilia knock him out - after all, they already agreed on what must happen in regards to you, so the faster Malleus gets out of Overblot, the faster he can take you away

He won’t wait to recover, because of the risk that the magic wears off, but don’t think you’ll be able to fight him just because he’s weakened. Remember that Lilia is still at full power and his enabler, and by the time you do wake up, you’ll be in the Valley of Thorns.

Would now be a bad time to remind you that you also foolishly gave the fae your real name when you spoke to him in front of Ramshackle for the first time?

Leona Kingscholar

You probably won’t even realise he considers you a friend, to be honest

When you stepped on his tail on your first meeting, he does threaten to punch your teeth in, and he does start off hating you at first… but he also feels quite the need to stalk you from the beginning

He tries to explain it to himself as he’s just a predator hunting his prey, looking for your weaknesses so he can exploit them if you try to pick a fight again

But, through that stalking, he starts finding out things about you that make him sympathise with you, to the point that he even starts feeling close to you, in a weird parasocial kind of way

It was enough to fool Ruggie anyway, from the way Leona talked about you, he thought you two must have been at least frenemies or friendly rivals

So when Ruggie invites you to watch their Magift practise by saying “I’m sure Leona’d like seein’ his friend cheerin’ him on” you probably had a moment of “does Leona even know my name?”

(He does, and so much more. Don’t worry about it)

He usually does the bare minimum, but if you actually accept the invite and he notices you, he’s going all out. Why? If you asked him, he genuinely wouldn’t know the answer beyond “I felt like showing off in front of you”

It takes him a lot of after-practise chatting and actually becoming kinda friends to figure out he has a crush on you, and when he does, he thinks of it as such a pain in the ass

The inferiority complex is still strong in him, but, unlike with Azul’s insecurities, he wants to confess to you asap

He’s less worried about rejection and more about being compared to his brother, but, considering you’re not of this world and probably don’t even know he’s royalty? His goal is to become your number 1 and to stay that way, before you have a chance to pick up any biases from your surroundings

Of course, why would you believe some random 1st year’s older brother’s account of how cruel Leona is, when you know Leona as your beloved boyfriend who treats you right?

Though he wants to confess immediately, he still has just enough tact, so he tries to find a good time to do so… which isn’t easy.

It’s shortly after he decides to confess that Riddle overblots, and that’s a bad time. Then, practise for the Magift tournament (and the scheming)…

Don’t think he didn’t notice your visit to Savanaclaw and cosying up to Jack, though. Predator beastmen don’t particularly like other predator beastmen getting too close to their belongings, so his inferiority complex is already ready to kick in

He will bring it up right before his Overblot, as a part of his entire “Why do I always have to settle for being second best” rant. “D'you really think some lame piece-of-shit goody-two-shoes dog would treat you better than me?” would be the nicest thing he had to say about Jack.

Honestly, out of all of them, I’d say he’s at the greatest risk of actually dying due to the Overblot, because, as a yandere, he won’t care enough to fight them when he can just grab you and leave, Magift be damned

He’s still lazy and looking for the path of least resistance, and, at that moment, with you right there, and him having basically just confessed, his goal changes into making sure you do not leave him. Even if he’s forced to fight, he’s keeping you by his side (or rather, behind him, as a show of power, to exhibit just how well he could protect you, unlike that dog who couldn’t even stop Leona from grabbing you) the entire time

If you thought he was hot-headed and intimading before the Overblot, just wait until he recovers. Since you now know both his feelings and his true power + unique magic, he’ll stop caring about the little things and start to become really overbearing, controlling, possessive and violent. Don’t even hope for Farena to notice how much you shake around Leona once he drags you to the Afterglow Savannah, the younger won’t listen to him anyway, and the accusations will only make him angrier

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @lsangyeons

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job.

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves.

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot.

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...”

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.”

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage.

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you.

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list.

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy.

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes.

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you.

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics.

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead.

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so.

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else.

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be.

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life.

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here.

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face.

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?”

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night.

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin.

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal.

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch.

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included.

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager.

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager.

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back.

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch.

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room.

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut.

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up.

Love,

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event.

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae.

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection.

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket.

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day.

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby.

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door.

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door.

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant.

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything.

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle.

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’.

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere.

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold.

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing.

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first.

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut.

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love, Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw.

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway.

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders.

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head.

Time stops.

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling.

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in.

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut.

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises.

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV.

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours.

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you.

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes.

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed.

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair.

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck.

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you.

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground.

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped.

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him.

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg.

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip.

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you.

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat.

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair.

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much.

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close.

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin.

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel.

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you.

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do.

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders.

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels.

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips.

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace.

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act.

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again.

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him.

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving.

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.”

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head.

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now.

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest.

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down.

The guilt washes through you again.

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence.

You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away.

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative.

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver.

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.”

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers.

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow.

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it.

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing:

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little.

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic

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sinfulwrites · 3 years

Text

Risotto Nero, NSFW alphabet.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Honestly, he would be the best at aftercare. A master, if there even is such a thing. A man never caught unprepared, it wouldn’t be a shock if he actually carried around rags, water and snacks for after sex. Really though, he is the best because of how understanding and self aware he is. He knows his size. Not being able to walk afterwards was expected. He does not need to be asked, he already knows he will be carrying them until they are good to walk. Some water, a shower, and then it’s time to crash in bed and recover via nap with many opportunities to snuggle in between. Someone sleeping with him has nothing to worry about. He’s got this.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Risotto’s favorite part of his own body is probably his arms, if he had to pick. All his tattoos are on them, and he loves to look at them. Even if some cause him pain. His favorite part of his partner is, well, them. It may be a cop-out, but it’s the truth. He doesn’t care about the looks, he loves the person. So everything about them is his favorite.

Picking a favorite part of this man is absolutely a challenge. There’s so much to pick. If one has to choose, it might also be his arms. For the aforementioned tattoos, but also for the strength they have. Risotto’s arms are one of the safest places to be. As long as you’re not on his hit list of course...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His preferred place would be inside. It’s easier to clean up, and he doesn’t ruin the bedding in the process. If asked though, he will cum wherever one asks him to. If not instructed though, it’s going inside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Risotto’s dirty little secret is his submissive side. Being the leader of a hitman team, along with just being associated with Passione in general, he needs to appear tougher than steel. In private however, he is way more willing to drop the façade. Wanna tie him up? Sure. Pull his hair? Go for it. Degrade him? Make him stay on his hands and knees? Hit him? Sure, sure, sure. He’s up for it all. In moderation of course. He’s not completely submissive after all… Consider it a 50/50 split there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The amount of ex’s he has could be counted on one hand, but don’t mistake that for inexperience. He knows what he’s doing, and he can do it well. That being said, he can still be taught new tricks, and is very eager to learn. He may teach someone a thing or two as well though…

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It depends on what is being done. Is it just some passionate love making? Then his go to is anything where he can hold someone close, preferably in his lap. Is it more of a BDSM thing? Tied up on the stomach is his go to. A quickie? Up against the nearest thing to him, even if it’s the wall. He’s plenty strong and can hold anyone up against the wall while fucking them, if they fancy that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Overall, he’s fairly serious. Not just because it’s sex, but because that is how he is in general. So focused on doing the task properly, he has no time to crack a joke or wisecrack. But he will laugh if things just won’t go right with his partner. Feel free to ask him about the sex swing fiasco…

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His head has the most hair on his body. The rest is either waxed off or shaved down. He prefers to be hair free, but given how busy he is, it’s very likely to be “overgrown” at some points. (Mostly just some peach fuzz, but it’s more than enough for him.)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is very intimate, and very into the moment. The house could be on fire and it would not matter, he wants to make sure the person he is being intimate with knows this is special, and it will only be for them. While he is a man of few words, his actions speak plenty for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He is fairly indifferent about mastrubating. He will if he has to, but if he has a boner, he would much rather have it be taken care of by a lover. If that’s not an option though, and it really needs to go, he will rub one out. It won’t be anything fancy though.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh boy… If you couldn’t tell by his appearance, he is very much into BDSM. He is also into knife play and blood play, he especially loves using his Stand on his partners. He tends to give them piercings, though thankfully in a normal area to have them. If he’s with someone he is seriously committed to, however, the piercings may travel further south… Watch those teeth if he’s getting close to somewhere a piercing is definitely not desired. He won’t if you tell him not to, but please let him. It’s his way of putting ownership on someone, and he is very happy if his partner keeps wearing the piercing. He is definitely not a man for the vanilla, so think twice if he’s caught your eye.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

At home, mostly. He’s less likely to get caught at home, and it’s safer that way. He can be convinced to do things outside of the house too, he will be weary the whole time though. He will often abuse his ability to turn invisible for sex outside the house, especially in public. He will abuse this too, so one must expect a sudden ass pinch or a bear hug that will most definitely end with him grinding himself against the person caught in his grasp.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Risotto has a very low libido overall, mostly due to work stress. So he most likely won’t be the one to get the fire going, it has to be his partner. Seeing them in a more casual setting seems to do it the best. Just simple clothes, unstyled hair, just them. Being able to give him trust seems to do it too, to his dismay. “This is a serious moment, I shouldn't be hard…” A confession about what’s happening in his trousers in a moment like this would be like trying to get a cat to take a bath. It’s not happening without a lot of work.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bringing in someone else. Don’t ask, he will not enjoy it. If it must happen, he will, because he wants his partner to be happy. He won’t be though. No filming either. And under no circumstances must his men find out something is going on. Meaning, no scandalous activity around them. Keep the toy in the bedroom, now isn’t the time for it. Especially at a meeting. Part of the reason for this is because he knows them. They’re going to talk, make jokes, some less than appropriate. The other part would be, he’s their leader, and while he may love them as family, they’d don’t need to know everything about what’s going on in his personal time.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Much rather give than receive. And he is very good at giving. Letting him explore and find what drives his partner crazy is one way, but guiding him to the spots to make someone’s toes curl and make them see stars is also an option. He’s not opposed to receiving, he just never expects it. He knows his size and how intimidating it is. He will never ask, but if someone wants to, no more than one reassurance is needed.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His thrusts can be rather slow, but they are all brutal and with a purpose. He knows exactly where to push against and how much force is needed to make someone dissolve into a moaning mess in his arms. If he’s in a bad mood, he may pick up the pace to vent out the rage, and that’s some of the best dick he can give.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes. Being a very busy man, sometimes it’s only quickies. They aren’t his favorite, but he knows not to try and go for the real deal with such a schedule. On the days he finds a moment of peace, he makes sure to make it up to them with some real passionate love making, or some promised rope and whips.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is not afraid to get his hands dirty and try new things, within reason. There will never be a sex tape, no matter how many times he is asked. He is an assassin, he can’t risk it. If it doesn’t put him or his partner at risk of too much danger, he’s game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Risotto knows how to make it last. Here’s a tip, when he’s nearly stopped moving and is just grinding into one spot, he’s about to finish and is trying to hold it. One can choose whether to keep it going or to let him know it’s okay to tap out. Just be sure to time it right, because he can take a while to recover for round two. But rest assured, that round two is coming.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh yes. He loves toys. Cock rings are a good one, but his favorites are vibrators, especially with the remotes. Something he can use on his partner, when he cannot touch them? Oh yes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If it’s some BDSM play, he’s evil. Risotto is very observant, and he knows all the signs of his partner’s upcoming orgasm and knows just when to stop to make them a crying mess that just wants to finish. Pleading never works on him, he will let it happen when he wants it to. If it’s just some casual sex, he is more lenient. He may purposely miss their favorite spot just to make them beg a little though.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Relatively quiet. In general, Risotto is very quiet, that’s no exception in bed. The most one will hear is his panting, and when he cums he lets out a groan deep from the gut. It never fails to send shivers down someone’s spine. His sounds are mostly drowned out by his partner.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Risotto is moderately bilingual. He speaks fluent Italian, along with his native tongue, Sicilian. He understands English fairly well, but struggles to speak it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Who let him walk around with such a weapon?! Risotto Nero has always been infamous for his size, and while below the belt isn’t as famous, it’s definitely meeting expectations. He is above average in both length and width, clocking in at nearly 10 inches. It gets better when you remember his piercings. He has a Jacobs Ladder, five rows of ball bearings and of course a pretty silver ball on the tip of his penis. Definitely not for first timers.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very low. As mentioned above, he has a very low libido. Don’t mistake it for not being interested, though. He is. And he will make sure the message gets across, even if he’s not a horned up sex machine. He needs a little work, but the blood will start flowing.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends. If he can, he absolutely will sleep after everything is cleaned up with his partner, but the man has insomnia. Some days, he may just be laying there holding his partner trying to will himself to sleep, only to fail and be watching them sleep until they wake up. On other days, if he is really exhausted, he might be the first to pass out. It’s a mixed bag that even he won’t know how it will go until it’s time for bed. Regardless, he will stay still and quiet to make sure he doesn’t disturb his partner’s sleep. It doesn’t have to be a shared problem.

#jjba #jjba golden wind #la squadra #risotto nero

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

AN UNUSUAL YEAR (Part I/V)

Summary: After having little to no interest on girls for five years, Fred suddenly feels the need to nag the shit out of a certain witch, completely oblivious to the reason behind it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff (+ enemies to lovers)

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: I'm currently going through a Harry Potter fever ('tis the damn season), so I thought I'll write something. I might write more of this story, (maybe turn it into a multipart) we'll see. If you'd like to be tagged in this, let me know.

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I had always supposed that reaching the sixth year at Hogwarts meant subjects would get way more demanding and complex, and I to be proven right, only two weeks in were needed.

Added to the usual difficulties, we would be hosting The Triwizard Tournament. Having the castle be almost twice as crowded as the other years, when all you crave is a quiet spot to study, wasn't ideal.

As I said, the first two weeks were already hard enough.

During the third week though, believe it or not, things got even worse —and our guests hadn't even arrived yet.

The Slytherin common room was quieter than the library these days, that's the sole reason why, at 3:35 pm, my best friend and I were already making our way there.

To our luck, we arrived just in time to see the two redheaded troublemakers par excellence high-fiving each other besides my common room's entrance.

"What on Merlin's beard are you two doing here?!" Both of them jumped at the sight of two Slytherins.

"The question is what are YOU doing here?" One of them questioned back, probably attempting to distract us. "You two should be in the library."

"What did you do?" I squinted my eyes at them and, while one raised his hands in surrender, the other just shrugged.

"Nothing." He motioned at our door nonchalantly. "If you don't believe me, check it yourself."

My friend and I shared a reluctant look, and before I could say anything, she was heading to the door.

"Mathilda wait—" I gasped when she sunk into what appeared to be the stone floor.

"Okay now, I wasn't expecting her to actually do it." When I attempted to step forward, a hand on my forearm prevented me from it.

"Don't step further." He warned. "Just in case."

"I'm not stupid." I hissed before grabbing my wand, which made the tall redhead back off. "Revelio." Slowly, a swamp was revealed to be where the entrance hall to the Slytherin common room was supposed to.

Now that it was visible, both twins hurried to get my friend out of their giant prank.

"Get rid of this." I ordered as they pulled her up, her bottom half covered in mud.

"Pffft... no?" One of them scoffed, walking away from Mathilda and stepping closer to me. "It's a masterpiece. It stays."

"If it stays, I will throw you into your masterpiece." I threatened, putting my wand back in my pocket.

"Oh, I'd love to see you try."

I glared at him, partially because I hated that cocky attitude these two —specially him— always exhibited, but also because I had to look up in order to make eye contact.

"Listen Weasley,"

"It's Fred." Oh what would I give to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

"I don't care." Refusing to step back as he clearly wanted to achieve by towering me, I stepped forward, lightly pushing him back with one hand. "You will remove this from here or I will walk right now to the Potions Classroom and split on you."

The twins seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes only. After a moment of silence, the one with my friend spoke. "We'll get rid of it right now and you won't say anything." I nodded, my eyes still fixed on Fred's. "Just so we're clear, this was not set up for you."

"The next one will be, though." Fred assured me with an almost wicked smile. "I'll make sure you can't use the revelio on it."

"Is that a promise, Weasley?" I asked in an unconsciously defying tone.

"You can be sure of it, Y/l/n."

"It's Y/n." I retorted, mocking him.

"I don't care." I rolled my eyes when he did the same, finally breaking eye contact with him.

"C'mon Thilda," I held out my hand to her "let's see if someone can sneak us into the Ravenclaw common room."

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

"You think Fred meant it?" Mathilda inquired, the worry slipping through her words as she played with her breakfast.

"I doubt so." Angelina, who was sitting in front of us, replied without even looking up from her quidditch history book. "They seem more trouble than they are, really." I scoffed; it was easier for her to say that; she was a Griffindor after all. "Deep down they're nice sort, Y/n. They won't pick up on you for ruining a prank."

"I don't trust them."

"I'm not saying you have to—" Angelina jumped slightly when a wad of paper hit my face.

"You were saying?" I grunted, making eye contact with the red haired boy waving at me from the Griffindor table.

When I opened the wad, it read:

'miss me? —Fred ;)'.

"Look at his smug face." I hissed. "I'm gonna-"

"Ignore him. You're gonna ignore him." Angelina finished, fairly unconcerned. "I assure you he'll get bored in less then two days if he can't get a reaction out of you."

For the sake of having breakfast in peace, I only dedicated him a fake smile and did as my friend said. It seemed to work, until it was time to leave for class.

"We should get moving." Mathilda spoke, putting her plate aside and picking up her things as I did the same.

"I have a free period now." Angelina informed us. "Or as free as it can be. You?"

"Divination. Y/n?"

"Charms— Fuck." I whined as something dawned on me. "Those gits are in my class." I spared them a glare. "If they ruin my favorite subject I'm gonna—" a sudden splash of water on my face left my shirt soaked for at least the next hour. "You got the nerve—!" I yelled at the guy who was already making eye contact with me.

"I do, indeed!" He cut me off, winking at me from across the table, his chin resting on the palm of his hand with a teasing grin dancing on his lips as he asked, "what are you gonna do now, Y/l/n?" His twin brother, though I could only see his back, was clearly not enjoying this behavior.

Mathilda checked my gaze, dreading the worst. "Y/n, don't. You're gonna make Slytherin lose points." She knew the warning wouldn't do much, but at least she had tried.

Angelina, instead of backing our friend and try to calm me down, got up and walked to the table where the Weasleys sat.

FRED'S P.O.V.

"I hope you know you're dead." Angie stood in front of me, before using her book to tap my brother's arm. "George, move."

"What?"

The three of us spared a look at Y/n, who had, ignoring McGonagall yells, stepped over her table to get to us.

"Move. Now."

"Ssshit." My brother moved just in time for Y/n to repeat the same forward move on our table.

It's not as if I didn't have the time to move and run away, she hadn't rushed; on the contrary, she walked calmed and composed, and still I did not move an inch.

I guess a part of me wanted to know what she'd do to me.

"Look at you." I began to wind her up again when she climbed off the table on my side, sitting down on its surface with her shoes over the bench. "Doing the impossible to be near me, how romant—"

My sentence died off abruptly as a handful of scrambled eggs was mashed against my face.

I heard a burst of laughs around me. "Blimey! I'm sorry, Fred," she feigned worry, smearing what I assumed were the remaining rests of my breakfast all over my chest. "I hope you're not late to Charms because of this." She whispered near my ear, making a shiver go down my spine when her breath hit my neck. "See you there, yeah?"

Her hand squeezed my shoulder and her fingers ran over my shoulder blades as she walked away.

I felt a napkin placed in my hand and I was quick to remove as much scrambled eggs as possible from my face, just in time to see Y/n exiting the Great Hall with McGonagall jogging after her.

"You know?" Lee asked, drawing my attention. "Picking up on the girl you fancy is kind of a toddler strategy."

"Yeah, Fred," my brother agreed. "you're not an eighth year-old anymore."

"And you chose the wrong girl to nag" Angie added," if you keep it up, she will surely kill you." She held back a teasing smile. "And you should be careful" she nudged George. "I don't think she can tell you both apart, you can end up as collateral damage."

"But you wouldn't let that happen, would you?" I rolled my eyes when George scooted closer to our quidditch chaser.

"Depends on how annoying you are." She faked indifference as my brother searched for her eyes.

"I don't fancy her." I not-so-randomly stated. "But I can't stop pranking her now that she ruined my breakfast."

"You can and you will, Weasley." I jolted at McGonagall's voice behind me. "Twenty points from Gryffindor." At least I'm not grounded, I thought. "And you're grounded for the rest of the week."

"But Y/n— Ouch!" my brother kicked me under the table so I would shut it.

"Y/l/n has received her fair share of punishment, too, Weasley." The professor gave me a poorly masked, disgusted look. "Go and..." She waved her hand "Clean yourself up, Y/l/n will inform professor Flitwick about this incident. And Weasley," She stared at my brother. "Aren't you supposed to be heading to Charms too?"

"Yes ma'am." He replied, throwing everything into his bag, getting up and rushing out of there, not before grabbing his robe.

"The day's promising." I groaned, handing my things over to Angelina so I could go to the bathroom.

"You made the day promising by messing with a Slytherin, you twit." She pointed out, putting my things over hers. "Now go clean those eggs from your shirt."

"Aye, mother!" I headed off before Angie could add anything else to the conversation, loosening my tie as I moved forward.

As I cleaned off everything I could in the nearest bathroom, a random thought slipped into my mind.

Had Y/n been punished too? And if so, would we fullfil the punishment together? It seemed logical that if one of us got grounded, the other one would get grounded too; consequently, it would only make sense for us to—

Shut it. I mumbled to my own mind.

I didn't care. I did not care if she was punished or not. It was none of my business.

I don't fancy her, I thought to myself once again.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred x y/n #fred weasley au #fred weasley fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter and the triwizard tournament #triwizard au #triwizard tournament #fred and george #fred weasley icons #fred x slytherin reader

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

Text

10 Anti LO Asks

1. you know whats also bad about the red eyes? not only do they look awful on persephone's pink color, they're not even a unique feature? like we've seen hades' eyes go red, we've seen eros' eyes go red, and ares' eyes are ALWAYS red, so even this idea its her "unique queenly trait" doesnt even hold up?? because we've seen it on other characters before?like at least the blue glowing eyes looked unique and even gave her a possessed, otherworldly look, something with the red eyes just dont have.

2. The faces in the latest ep (not fastpass).... Ew

3. I saw someone praise lore olympus art, specifically the ones where Apollo is playing his lyre and Daphne is covering her ears while her hair is split in two (yuck! Bad decision looks awful) so we can see Apollo, the one where she transforms into her hibernation state (weird perspective, chin and neck, I think, also what the hell was that supposed to be?) and the last one before cutting to Thanatos (which, I admit looks a little better that the other but I still got distracted Apollo's arm among other things).

Now, Rachel is a professional artist like 15-25 years older than me (I dunno her age) drawing one of the most liked webtoons.

I feel like I'm nitpicking or being too harsh or crazy because I think it is a little terrible and this person thinks it's amazing and I know art is subjective and all but like the difference of opinion is jarring. I am by no means a professional and my art leaves a lot to be desired and I guess I don't have incredibly high standards (or do I? I'm second guessing). Is it really that good?

Because I know that Smythe commits more than a few anatomy atrocities. I wanted to redraw a few panels two years ago and I noticed a few things that Don't Work Like That.

4. ok but that other anon is right. we shouldnt have to go off old tumblr asks or random tweets to understand what's going on and who the characters are. rachel doesnt realize you have to actually write whats going on, not putting the readers on a scavenger hunt trying to figure out what they're even reading.

5. im honestly surprised LO hasnt ruined more mother figures at this point. maybe maia will be next and depicted as neglectful and hermes is only the way he is because hes acting out to be noticed by her, maybe dione will slut shame aphrodite, who knows, the possibilities are endless when its about ruining every mother figure to prop persephone and hera up and to avoid giving the characters actual personalities that isnt dependent on mommy/daddy issues.

6. I hate the clothing choice for Daphne in run for your life. It felt like she was drawn in a sexualized manner when she shouldn’t have been because she was running away from a r*pist. Like she almost had a nip slip, we almost got her ass, it was like Rachel was trying to fit her butt and chest in a lot of the frames like some video game with the token woman character. Like if a different dress was choosen or how she made Daphne tie the dress, I just feel like Rachel can’t draw outside of pinup sexy that well. Like sexy is fine for sexy scenes but running away from a r*pist is not sexy. (I probably sounded really lame, but the way Rachel presents the story in a feminist way but can only draw one way in not even the same style is annoying)

7. Things I think would have been better for the story instead of focusing so much on HXP

-Expanding on Minthe’s and Hades beginning of their relationship (he couldn’t of fallen for her since she didn’t laugh at him and when she yelled at him said it’s not your fault but you have the hat I think that would have added to his character more to see him more than a 40 year old who hits on barely legal)

-Leto’s kidnapping of Demeter. Both we/are close with Hera, and probably know or each other or may have been friends. Like I wanna know how Leto kidnapped her but also how are they interacting since they probably know each other and Demeter probably had Hera’s back when Hera ended their friendship.

-Ares return to Aphrodite. We don’t get to see much of her character but we know this is something she’s wanted, but they way it was handled was so flat, We assume Aphrodite told Ares that his gf slept with his father to save their son but we don’t actual read any words between the couple. And then they’re living together. I wanna see how they actually interact and stay together like their better moments. Like how well did he settle in, did they talk about how long he left for or is he mad like come on that’s something interesting but I feel like RS can’t write outside of HXP

-the deal with Echo. Why do people think Echo could possibly be Hera’s gf if she’s her assistant. Yeah they do dirty work together BUT I didn’t get a wiff or sexual tension or anything. Was it that she was there with the doctor? It just seems like Hera is that CEO trope who has the assistant always by her now.

-a little more of Pysche and Aphrodite friendship. Like Pysche says Aphrodite is lonely (and we can assume a part of that is Ares) but also because she “doesn’t have many friends” so why not a solo scene of just the two of them being actual friends. Like what did Aphrodite say when she brought back a purple nymph that was gonna help them with their work.

-Hermes not talking about Persephone. I feel like that 99% of what his character is and then just a little bit of himbo.

-Maybe Thantos and Minthe started flirting/hooking up. We’re they friends first or flirts first? Was it after Hades and Minthe got into a fight or something else? What did Thantos like about Minthe and what does she like about him? Why did she stay with Hades with Thantos was there (it’s not like she wanted to be queen of the underworld) How did Thantoas and Thetis meet and become friends? Idk if I was seeing two guys and one of them actually liked my friend I might consider leaving Hades for him. But again hades did have the power to control everything in Minthe’s life (job, home, everything) I do like Daphne and Thantos But I feel like the transition could have been better if we knew more, but again RS can only focus on one thing and that’s HXP.

------FP Spoiler/Mention------

8. FP SPOILERS— I’m done. I’m really done. We called it. We FKN called it. They got married behind the readers back, Demeter didn’t respond to the question as she actively avoided it and time was up, Apollo is somehow involved in the trial- THIS WHOLE THING IS A MESS AND IM TIRED OF HOPING THAT IT GETS BETTER. Four FKN years of this??? I’m done with this Webtoon even though I’m FKN stuck in it. I’m so FKN done.

9. Fast Pass spoiler (kinda) OH MY GOD, I JUST REALIZED THE POMEGRANATE PIN IS JUST PASTED ON EVERY FRAME, NOT EVEN RE DRAWN FOR PERSPECTIVE, NO, JUST COPIED AND PASTED, REGARDLESS THE OUTFIT ANGLE AND LIGHTING, IT'S HILARIOUS!!!I mean, I knew the art was decaying, but this just made me laugh out loud of how bad it looked.

10. persephone’s pomegranate pin just looks like a giant fly that landed on her and won’t leave LMAO

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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cyberneticpeoplespolis · 3 years

Text

New Zealand’s Paternalism and Imperialism in the Pacific

This is something I wrote back in early march for mainstream news publishers, but didn’t get finished in time before the news cycle moved on from the PIF break up. I’m putting it here for posterity and it might also be of interest for anyone curious about why New Zealand still uses its diplomatic weight to bully its neighbors into line.

New Zealand is losing its grip on the Pacific. That might be a good thing.

This year is the 50th anniversary of the Pacific Islands Forum. Many are talking as though it will be the last.

Last month the Micronesian sub-region, comprising Nauru, Kiribati, Palau, the Marshall Islands, and the Federated States of Micronesia, left the PIF. Since only the Polynesian and Melanesian sub-regions remain, the forum now has a distinctly more South Pacific orientation. But alongside the island nations are three big powers who like to think of themselves as “first among equals”. Two are the settler-colonies of Australia, and New Zealand. The third is France, which effectively has two votes at the forum via its tightly-held colonies of New Caledonia and French Polynesia.

Ostensibly, the breakup is the result of a broken “gentleman’s agreement” wherein each sub-region takes turns providing a candidate for the role of General Secretary. This election was Micronesia’s turn, but instead of supporting Micronesia’s Marshallese candidate, Gerald Zackios, the forum instead elected Cook Islands PM Henry Puna.

Much has been made of this “gentleman’s agreement,” but it was an unwritten rule, and hardly a democratic one. The fact that it was made at all speaks to the low stakes of the forum, and the fact that it was broken speaks to the greater consequences for this election than those prior.

These consequences will largely be felt by those outside the Pacific islands. The Pacific Islands Forum always meant a lot more to diplomats in Canberra, Wellington, Paris and Washington than islanders, who see it as relatively inconsequential.

This was reflected in the coverage of the forum’s breakup. Australian, New Zealand, and U.S. outlets and pundits all vied to levy blame on one another for the catastrophe, and painted the election as part of a grand proxy war between competing powers.

Depending on who you talk to, it was all part of a scheme by Australia, New Zealand and France to snub the interests of the United States in the Pacific. Or it was all the result of New Zealand and Australia’s indifference and poor diplomacy. Or it was the result of U.S. militarisation of the North Pacific and strong-arming of island nations. Many pointed out that the split represented an opportunity for China. Great power conflict also affected the framing of the candidates. Zackios is seen as Washington’s man in the region, and this seems deliberate, since he has a long history of cooperation with U.S. military and diplomatic projects. Likewise Micronesians claimed Puna is a proxy for either New Zealand or Chinese interests, despite considerably less evidence for the claim. All of these narratives of great power diplomacy and conspiracies do have some truth to them, but the framing does seem to deny a lot of agency to Pacific peoples. Apart from a few Micronesian diplomats and politicians, few have expressed any appetite for cold warfare. In fact there is a great deal of anxiety around escalating tensions, reduced aid, militarised borders, and foreign navies.

In western media narratives, we can see the lingering spectres of both cold war proxy warfare and colonial entitlement. Western nations are framed as enlightened protectors shielding islanders from threats they couldn’t possibly understand. It is an unwritten assumption that this paternalistic form of leadership endears western powers to the South Pacific. In reality, the former colonial powers are perceived as unwelcome interlopers. For New Zealand especially, the rhetoric used mirrors the way we talk about our own indigenous relations. There are pretensions of partnership, but always with the Crown as the ‘major’ partner. Beneath the surface lurks an uncritical, vestigial paternalism from days gone by. The question of whether New Zealand is fit to be a regional leader is never asked, just as similar questions are never asked in Canberra, Paris or Washington.

This paternal attitude is a complex thing. It is equal parts denial of past abuses, denial of present economics and new cold war paranoia.

An inconvenient past

There is an unspoken assumption that New Zealand is a benign force of leadership and regional cooperation. However, this assumption becomes stranger and stranger the further back we look. Holding it necessarily entails forgetting about New Zealand’s long history of open and shameless colonialism, from Seddon’s project for a “Britain of the South Pacific” to Massey’s acquisition of Samoa at Versailles. It means forgetting the unnecessary deaths of a fifth of Samoa from pandemic mismanagement, and disregarding the Black Saturday massacre on the streets of Apia. It might be said that those incidents are too distant to be relevant today. How about something more recent, like the environmental devastation of strip-mining Nauru for phosphate, conducted under a New Zealand-Australian joint venture, or decades of using Vanuatu as a tax haven for New Zealand businesses? Even that’s a bit far back. What about in 2015, when the GCSB was found to be conducting a massive spy operation across the Pacific through Waihopai, while simultaneously operating a hidden spy outpost, codename “Caprica,” in the Solomon Islands?

All of these events represent massive breaches of trust, yet New Zealand often acts as if recent history is the ancient past when it comes to the Pacific. It takes its diplomatic relationships for granted and expects neighbors to forget about the past, and turn a blind eye to the present.

Trade Imperialism

The fact is that the most detrimental effects New Zealand has on the Pacific aren’t even intentional; it’s the passive, downstream consequences of the New Zealand economy and its trading relationships which undermine Pacific islands the most.

It’s a truism of economics that good businesses buy low and sell high. But what happens when that takes place on the scale of whole nations? When low-waged countries countries trade with high-waged countries, their goods often fetch a uniformly low price regardless of quality or productivity. On the flip side, high waged countries can always get a good price, often more than their goods are worth. This is a phenomena called “Unequal Exchange,” first noticed in the context of recently-decolonised African nations in the 1960s. The reasons for this are complicated, and have a lot to do with the fact that people can’t move between international industries as easily as money, but suffice to say that the Pacific’s trade with New Zealand is a perfect example of the problem. While Pacific peoples earn an average of only $300 a month, New Zealanders earn about $2,800. The end result is that the goods produced by a New Zealand employee in one day can be worth as much as 9 times the amount a Pacific worker could produce in the same time.

This means that when Pacific nations trade with New Zealand, they immediately lose a lot of money paying for overpriced goods, and can’t make enough off their own exports to cover the cost. Even with the Government’s “Pacific Reset” policy which increased the dwindling Pacific aid budget, the small amounts New Zealand pays in aid are overshadowed by its profits.

Naturally, a lot of island nations want to trade with each other instead. By building up each other’s industries and establishing equal terms of trade, they can avoid the crushing dependency on goods made in New Zealand, Australia, and the U.S. But New Zealand exporters would be vehemently opposed. If Pacific nations were to shake their dependency, they might get a fair price for their goods, and eventually compete with New Zealand business on an equal playing field.

Instead, Australia and New Zealand often use the Pacific Islands Forum and other regional bodies to torpedo any proposals for deals that don’t include them, and push their own trade deals. One recent deal was PACER Plus, which was criticised heavily by groups like the Pacific Network on Globalisation for the effects it would have on Pacific communities. One Canadian expert also claimed that deals like PACER Plus are precisely what makes Pacific nations want to trade with China instead.

A Cold War in the Pacific

In recent years the Pacific has split down the middle on the question of addressing trade imbalances. It’s one of those problems everyone recognises, but each solution comes with significant risks. On the one hand, groups like the Wellington-based Pacific Co-operation Foundation argue that unbalanced trade deals like PACER Plus are a positive trend, and any imbalance in outcomes only reflects the poor terms of trade already in place. They say Pacific economies need a chance for capital inflows from New Zealand and Australia, even if the latter countries ultimately benefit much more than the islands ever could.

While once upon a time, this was all that Pacific islands could hope for, nowadays there are other options. Semi-developed economies like China can offer many of the same products as much richer countries, at prices Pacific nations can actually afford thanks to much lower wage costs. But in the context of escalating trade warfare – and possible military conflict – between China and the United States, some island economies have chosen to tie their fates more tightly to superpowers in the hopes of receiving more aid and investment. The U.S. in particular requires new island construction sites across the Western Pacific in order to give strategic depth to its plans for an extensive network of missile and aircraft bases to be aimed at China by 2022.

With Micronesia situated close to the massive US naval base at Guam, it is not surprising that the Mircronesian bloc at the Pacific Islands Forum has taken a strongly anti-Chinese stance, in some cases going further than Washington itself. Three of the nations are official associates of the U.S., and three have fostered ties with Taiwan, a strong US ally which is itself heavily dependent on american military and political backing.

On the other side of the divide, most Polynesian and Melanesian nations have attempted to stay out of the escalating tensions. They have continued to trade with New Zealand and Australia, while simultaneously pushing for greater self-sufficiency, including a growing trade relationship with China. The reason for the shift is perfectly logical: China can offer better terms of trade, and its banks can fund major infrastructure projects that almost no western bank would even consider backing. But what of Chinese debt trap diplomacy? All of the Pacific island nations, apart from the Micronesian bloc, have repeatedly ignored the dire warnings by western diplomats about potential asset seizures for defaulting on their huge Chinese loans. The answer is simple: as an exhaustive analysis from The Atlantic recently pointed out, the debt-trap narrative was made up from the start. It’s one of those post-truth narratives that exist beyond debate no matter how many times it’s debunked. This is especially true in the Pacific, where despite obvious vulnerabilities, experts contend that there is no evidence of debt traps. None of that has stopped the spectre from being raised yet again in the wake of Micronesia’s walk-out.

With nothing much to offer except fearmongering and sabre-rattling, is it any surprise that Pacific nations are seeking alternatives to western trade and aid dependency? If New Zealand is serious about restoring trust and equality in the Pacific, it may want to start by recognising island nations can currently get better deals elsewhere, and try to match them. If it wanted to take a more transformational approach, it would consider something like a Pacific Common Travel Area that could allow labour to move as freely as goods, and permanently mitigate the effects of trade imperialism through better remittance income and wage equalisation. Of course, such things would run counter to too many vested interests to be considered.

Just another Pacific island nation

Returning for a moment to the coverage of the breakdown of the Pacific Islands Forum, let’s re-examine the implicit understanding that New Zealand ought to be taking a leadership role. Part of that is natural – New Zealand will always be the biggest island chain among many – but at least part of that sentiment echoes the colonial entitlement of Seddon or Massey. Why should New Zealand be taking a leadership role when its trade interests will always endanger Pacific sovereignty? What about the last century of Pacific-NZ relations would even remotely suggest that New Zealanders are trusted in the Pacific? This distrust is certainly apparent when it comes to Micronesian leaders, who have criticised Cook Islands PM Henry Puna as a lackey of New Zealand, since his islands are still part of the New Zealand Realm. This is hardly fair to Puna, as his personal positions are clearly at odds with New Zealand’s vision for the region, but the fact that his links to New Zealand are such a handicap speaks volumes about New Zealand’s image across the Pacific.

New Zealand’s foreign policy vacillates between an out-of-touch paternalism and an equally out-of-touch assertion that it is an equal member of the Pacific community. Government reports on the Pacific Reset and PACER Plus are filled with this confusing language, speaking of equal partnership one minute and unilateral leadership the next. Both positions are quite blind to New Zealand’s actual reputation, and its ongoing exploitation of Pacific workers via trade imperialism.

It also says a lot that in every opinion piece published on the PIF debacle, the writers have had but one concern: influence. Former Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd was one prominent voice bemoaning the loss of Australia and New Zealand’s influence in the island forum. But what are the actual consequences for island nations? As Stephen Howes and Sadhana Sen pointed out, there aren’t many. Countries were willing to risk a split because no one really had any stakes in the forum. No trade deals were directly tied to forum membership, even those negotiated through its channels, and most of the genuinely important regional initiatives like the University of the South Pacific won’t be affected.

The only people really bemoaning the loss are those in New Zealand and Australia who used the forum as an opportunity to intervene in Pacific affairs, or those who wanted an opportunity to engage in some old-fashioned cold warfare. Regionalism and cooperation are very good things, but when it comes to diplomacy and trade deals between islands, maybe Australia and New Zealand should sit it out, as their idea of regional leadership is often closer to being the local bullies.

When New Zealand realises the immense imbalances in economic and political power it has perpetuated in the Pacific, maybe then it will be one island nation among many. Until then, it has to earn that right.

#pacific #new zealand #trade #imperialism #colonization

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marvelousstevetony · 3 years

Note

Okay but those ways to say I love you prompts are all so cute 🥺 what about on a post-it note for Steve and tony if you’re feeling inspired? Thank you! 💖

Ahh, they are! Thank you for this prompt, friend, it is so sweet. I hope you enjoy this small thing 💖

~ ~ ~

“Please don’t leave me in this hellhole.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheeks to stop the laughter from bubbling out of him as he lets his eyes wander over to the bed where Tony lies, face smushed into his pillow.

His arm hangs limply over the edge of the bed, the blanket pulled up so it covers most of his naked back, apart from his shoulders. His skin has that sleep-warm glow to it, and judging by the soft, relaxed expression on his face, Tony is only about fifty percent awake as he lets out a small whine.

Now Steve is unable to keep the smile from gliding over his lips. “You’ll do great, Tony. And you know I’d much rather get back into bed,” Steve responds as he zips his bag and places it by the door.

“There’s nobody stopping you…”

“There kinda is, though,” Steve says, walking towards the bed, then sits down after nudging Tony’s leg to make space on the edge of the bed. “Besides, I’ll be back tonight. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

He threads his fingers through the mess of dark curls, softly untangling the knots that always come as a result of Tony nuzzling his head against Steve’s shoulder, chest or back, depending on whose turn it is to be the small spoon. It looks a little like a bird’s nest, Steve notes, all disheveled and mussed, but definitely the most adorable bird’s nest Steve has ever seen.

“’s not true,” Tony mumbles into the pillow. “I always miss you when you’re not here.”

Steve knows the hoarseness to Tony’s voice is probably from sleeping, but he can’t help but feel like it’s from emotion, too, and just the thought of Tony missing him even when they don’t see each other for mere hours makes something in his chest catch. Because Steve feels it, too; the constant want and need to be with Tony, as if Tony’s presence is the oxygen Steve breathes to keep him alive.

Steve clears his throat to prevent an emotional voice crack. “I won’t be away for long, okay? I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, smiling even though Tony can’t see it with his eyes closed.

Tony hums, leaning into the palm Steve rests on his cheek. It’s only for a quick second though, because then he sighs heavily and feigns a pout. “Apparently not enough, since you’re leaving me to go to a stupid meeting. In D.C.”

Steve chuckles softly as he brushes his thumb over Tony’s cheekbone. “I’ll make it up to,” Steve promises and leans down to press a gentle kiss the corner of Tony’s lips. “You’re going to smash that presentation like you always do, and those investors are going to be every bit as smitten by you as I am.”

“I know,” Tony says, smirking even in his sleep-hazy state. “Still don’t wanna do it, though.”

“You’re gonna be great.” Steve gives his cheek another quick kiss before he stands and heads for the door, grabbing his bag on his way. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Mm, love you too,” Tony mumbles, already falling back into the warmth of the blankets and the comfortable unconsciousness.

***

Tony curses under his breath as he woken up by the ear-splitting sound of his alarm going off, and for a few seconds he wonders who he is going to have to sue for making such a vile, atrocious sound. It doesn’t take much longer for his sleep fogged brain to register that he isn’t woken up by the ticklish feeling of Steve’s breath behind his ear that he’s used to.

Steve usually comes to rouse him from his slumber with that low, fond voice whispering good morning in his ear, and a steaming mug of coffee. Today, he gets neither, and it feels like a bad start to what Tony can only imagine is going to be a bad day overall.

He stretches out on the bed, joints clicking, and gives a jaw-crackling yawn that’s followed by an equally dramatic sigh. He lets himself revel in the softness of the mattress and warmth of the blanket before draping one hand over his eyes and reaching for his phone with the other.

He frowns when his hand identifies a piece of paper on the screen of his phone, then rubs at his tired eyes with a fist to clear away the blurry vision. He has to narrow his eyes to make out the words on the post-it, and god he feels old doing so, but the feeling is quickly replaced by the affection that pools in his chest when he reads the note.

Good morning, my love. Hope you slept well.

- S ♡

Steve might not physically be in the Tower, but Tony knows that he left his heart right here.

His heart is apparently not the only thing Steve has left in New York, because throughout the routine of showering, brushing his teeth and getting dressed, Tony finds another few colorful notes with small, sweet messages and cute little drawings on them.

Wish I could join you, the one on the shower cabinet had said, and, well… Tony definitely agrees.

When Tony had showered, sadly all by himself, and finished up in the bathroom, he’d gone to choose what to wear for the meeting with the investors. What screams genius, billionaire, philanthropist and a damn good businessman? he had thought, staring into a closet full of suits.

That’s when he’d noticed another post-it, a red one that said: You look amazing in all of these. Those investors are so lucky. Love you. Steve had added a small smiley face with hearts as eyes. Tony rolled his eyes fondly before settling on a dark grey suit and the maroon-colored tie Steve had bought him.

Now, as he enters he kitchen, he feels a little better, a little less like this day is pure agony.

Because he is Tony Stark, a caffeine-addict, he heads straight for the coffeemaker, his most treasured item, and he can almost hear the birds chirping and angels singing the closer he gets. His focus quickly switches to the piece of paper that’s stuck to it though, and the fact that he reads the note before starting the machine is truly a testament to how much he loves Steve.

Please drink a glass of water and eat something too. Coffee is not a real breakfast!

Tony laughs out loud. He can imagine the look on Steve’s face and the sound of his voice so clearly in his mind as he reads it. Normally he’d argue this point, just because he can and because coffee deserves to be acknowledged as a necessity in his diet, but he doesn’t have it in himself to disregard Steve’s request, so he fills a glass with water and puts a bagel in the toaster while the coffee brews.

When it’s done, Tony goes to grab his favorite mug from the cupboard and is not surprised to find another post-it stuck on it.

From the day I realized I love you, it says and Steve has drawn a tiny ferris wheel on there, too.

Tony smiles reminiscently, thinking back to the day Steve had gotten him the mug. He had bought it in the gift shop in Coney Island when the team had gone there on a day off. Steve had told him how he and Bucky used to go there, he even told him about the time he had thrown up after Bucky made him ride the Cyclone. Neither of them had been able to stop blushing and smiling that day.

He snaps out of his absorption of memories when the toaster chimes, fills his mug and takes a seat a the breakfast bar, scrolling through his phone as he eats. He contemplates calling Steve but remembers that he and Sam are going to be in and out of meetings all day, so he settles on texting him a single red heart emoji.

For the next hour, as he gets ready for the investor meeting, Tony finds several other post-its. Some are messages saying stuff like I love you more than Nat loves knives, others are small drawings with cute texts like the one of them with grey hair and wrinkles that reads Growing old together. Tony may or may not have teared up at a few of them, and if he does, no one will know.

He imagines this is what it would’ve been like if he had ever been hunting for easter-eggs as a child. However, notes from Steve are a lot more rewarding than those cheap, poor quality chocolates.

With each one he finds, Tony’s chest tightens and his heart squeezes. Most people believe Tony is the one who’s always super over the top when is comes to romantic gestures, which, to be completely honest, is true. He does the grand, romantic gestures because he likes to spoil Steve whenever he gets the chance to. He likes watching Steve’s cheeks turn pink and that shy smile that crosses his face when Tony’s done something outrageously extravagant.

But… Steve has always been good at the small details. Things that seem insignificant but really aren’t, because they’re intimate and heartfelt and the most Steve things to do. Like leaving a million post-its around the penthouse to make up for being away.

As the collection of vibrant-colored paper notes grows, Tony finds a small box to gather the messages and drawings. The last one he finds is inside the elevator as he goes to meet Pepper before the meeting with the investors.

Good luck, baby. I love you.

***

Tony can’t recall when the last time a presentation went this well; everything went smoothly and the investors were immensely impressed.

He’s still tired as he stands in the elevator though, head tipped back against the wall, and he can’t wait to drop himself onto the couch and wait for Steve to come home.

He frowns when the elevator door opens and something seems… different, is the only way to describe it. The light are dimmed and instead, the room it lit up by candles. The Netflix logo is big and bright on the tv screen in front of the couch, which has been turned into a nest of blankets and pillows, and on the coffee table, there are two pizza boxes that give off a comforting smell that Tony can detect all the way across the room. In the middle of the whole affair is Steve, wearing his favorite pair of sweats and his old cable-knit, smiling widely at Tony.

Tears of happiness well up in Tony’s eyes as he walks towards the couch, shedding his shoes, jacket and shirt until he’s just in his undershirt, and drops himself directly onto Steve, burying his face in his neck. Steve holds him closer, chuckling a bit at Tony’s excited welcome home hug.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Tony echoes, the sound muffled into the fabric of Steve’s sweater.

“Did you have a good day? Good. I’m glad,” Steve says, smile growing impossibly wider when Tony hums and gives a small nod.

They lie there for a while, breathing in the scent of each other, feeling their muscles relax the longer their bodies are pressed this close, fitting together like a perfect puzzle. Tony’s head is the perfect size to fit into the crook of Steve’s neck, and Steve arms makes the best embrace around Tony’s smaller frame.

After a few minutes though, Tony catches a whiff of the Italian spices and lifts his head to look into Steve’s sparkling, blue eyes. “Pizza?” he asks hopefully, and Steve’s smile is answer enough.

Tony sits up to open the box and on it, there’s a post-it. It’s short and simple and it might be Tony’s favorite.

I love you, Tony Stark ♡

“You still think I don’t love you enough?”

Tony swallows hard around the lump that has suddenly appeared in his throat. “I never doubted that you do,” he says soberly. The words feel heavy as they leave his mouth, because it’s true; Steve has never given Tony any reason to question his love for him. Tony knows that Steve loves him.

He knows it by the way Steve runs his hand through his bird’s nest of a bedhead even though it’s greasy and it has gotten too long because he doesn’t want to go the the hair dresser. He knows it in the way he makes sure Tony doesn’t kill himself by only consuming coffee. He knows it by the way they can tell each other embarrassing stories about throwing up after riding a rollercoaster and buy ugly mugs from gift shops. He knows it in the way Steve writes hearts above the i’s and j’s, in the small curves of his handwriting and in the drawings and texts that tell Tony that he wants to grow old with him. He knows it by the way Steve looks at him with his blue eyes and long lashes and by the sincere smile that plays on his lips when he says his name.

They’re silent for a moment, but then Steve leans in, his lips ghosting over Tony’s as he whispers, “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you,” Tony says, closing the final gap between them, sealing their lips in a gentle, sweet, perfect kiss.

#am i the only one who feels so special when peach sends a prompt?#like... the queen of fluff is actually interacting with me?#oh well #I hope you enjoy this friend!!#this is a mess of typos I’m sorry #I’ll fix it later #my fic #ask box #omg-just-peachy #pls they love each other okay?#🥺🥺🥺#stevetony

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

Benefits

Rivals blurb: 2.8k word

Request: y/n & harry go to a bar and someone from harrys office flirts with her and he gets jealous

Work parties were never very exciting, so when Y/n and Harry had a combined company benefit party at one of the upscale lounges in London she was hardly excited. Her publicist had decided it would be good to do it together to get more hype and press on it by proving even though their companies split years prior there was ‘no bad blood’. She only agreed because some of the profits were going to different charities and that gave her the stamina to stick out a work event, and well free booze was a plus.

She had just enough time to make a pitstop home to change into a formal appropriate cocktail dress, pumps and fixed her hair before making her way towards the bar. Upon arrival she could already hear Harry’s distinct fake laugh, her eyes rolling automatically knowing he was cheesing up to some rich beneficiary to milk as much cash out of them as he could. She headed straight to the bar, ordering a vodka soda with lime deciding she’d need a little help getting through the night If she’d be trapped with that prick in such an enclosed space.

After two vodka sodas she was feeling a good buzz, good enough that her uptight nature seemed to unravel enough for her to entertain the gentlemen who decided to start talking to her, joining her at the bar. He wasn’t too bad looking, typical business man look with a crisp suit and hair styled with some sort of product that made it stiff. He was well groomed and she had recognized him as one of Harry’s employees. Mark was his name, and as long as he kept her drinks coming, she was more than willing to keep chatting with the man. Seemed like a good trade to her, booze for flirting- a win-win for both parties.

“How old are yeh doll?” the man was giving her the typical flirty eyes, she’d typically cringe at how thick this guy was laying it on already but she was too tipsy to care. “ ‘m 23, you?” the man had a sly smirk on his face at that, rubbing his chin slightly before taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’m 46, props to you fo’ havin’ such a big company at your age. I was just getting’ coffee for asshole bosses when I was your age. A business woman is sexy you know? You like older men hun?” his game was truly weak, almost embarrassingly so for someone of his age. She questioned if he could be a 40-year-old virgin, or he was just a terrible flirt. Yet she answered truthfully, not caring much since she’d likely never see this bloke again. “Depends, been with ‘em before but it’s not a preference or anything.”

His eyes flicked over the expanse of her body, his smirk not dropping at her answer as he licked over his lips. “Oldest you’ve been with?” his question made her roll her eyes starting to get a little tired of him now, knowing full well he just wanted to bang her which wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t kiss and tell Marcus.”

The pair weren’t aware of the irritated glare that was watching their every move, reading their lips from across the room as they talked. Harry was the peeping tom in question, staring the two adults down with a strange feeling in his gut and a tingle in his palms- like he wanted to punch his employee but- why? It’s not like he had any real reason to, but still a flare of…jealousy crawled up his spine and burrowed inside the ripples of his brain. He had been in this position before, when him and the girl were younger and he’d see her makeout with another guy or her boyfriend of the time or when he’d hear them fucking in a neighboring room while a young Harry grew overly irritated at the fact someone else was feeling what he’d felt before. He was being immature he knew that, but he didn’t care as he marched over to the pair acting casual despite his mood when he leaned against the dark wood of the polished bar.

Harry rubbed his pointer finger over the wood, collecting a small amount of dust on the digit before tapping his knuckles on the wood getting the attention of the bar tender and the pair he’d been practically stalking since he noticed them together. “Gin and tonic please, love and another one of whatever Y/n had. Put it on my tab, thank yeh” he was always a polite guy, his mother truly raised him well in that aspect and it was refreshing for Y/n to hear the man talking to someone kindly instead of the usual bickering they partake in.

Y/n turned to him on her swiveling barstool, giving him a tipsy soft smile and nod in acknowledgement not noticing the side eye he was giving the man on the other side of her. “Hello Harold” she greeted him using the name she knew got on his nerves, his name was simply Harry yet everyone assumed it was a shortened version of the rather old-fashioned name typically tied to it. Yet, he didn’t bother getting irritated or retorting with something annoying no- his focus was more on the man he had an itch to fire at the moment. He managed to keep his professional nature regardless, “Evening love, hello Marcus what are you lot talkin’ about?” Y/n was more confused on the pet name he’d used towards her than about the harsh gaze he was sending toward the man on her left.

Mark seemed to sense the animosity, knowing his bosses irritated look very well. He opted to respond to his employer with an awkward chuckle a shrug added to it, “Nothin’ much, business and such. Was admiring how she’s runnin’ a company so young just like you. Would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous.” His free hand went up to scratch the back of his neck, sipping his drink to have a way to cover his nervous lips whilst Harry stared him down. Y/n was honestly a bit amused at the situation at hand, wishing she had some popcorn to go with her fifth vodka soda to enjoy the little testosterone standoff happening. She’s seen Harry get like this a couple times, so she shamelessly added fuel to the fire.

“Yea, and askin’ me if I like older men then following that up with askin’ the oldest man I’ve slept with. It’s been a very professional conversation H, no need to worry.” She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got the reaction she wanted when Mark nervously fiddled with his tie and Harry’s jaw clenched, the action still noticeable in the dim lighting. Y/n was tempted to laugh at the surge of tension she had just created, opting instead to sip her drink as she waited for what was to come next.

Harry straightened himself up, turning to look at the man with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really? That hardly seems appropriate for a work event.” Harry was trying his best not to show the possessive feelings he was having, rather opting for a reprimanding boss act to fit the occasion. “erm…uh was just some casual banter Mister Styles. Might have had one too many, wasn’t using my best judgement…I apologize Y/n” he was rushing his words, obviously anxious to escape the confrontation which Y/n found even funnier. Harry gave the man a curt dismissal with a request to see him in his office on Monday, and in true Y/n fashion she decided to add a second dose of fuel to the fire- calling out to the fleeing man- “The oldest was 54 by the way!” this of course made Mark scurry away faster and Harry lower his gaze to the woman before him with a irritated yet quizzical look.

“54?” his tongue darted out to lick over his lips, a sting of gin hitting the tip of his tongue from the drop lingering on his bottom lip. Y/n shrugged, crunching a rouge ice cube between her back molars while she nodded. “Vegas, tequila, he had major sugar daddy vibes and 19-year-old me was into it.” Y/n was always rather shameless when it came to sex, she’s been sexually active for the majority of her life so the shyness of talking about it left her long ago. Harry snorted slightly, shaking his head with an amused grin at the girl. “Naughty! you’re somethin’ else Y/n. I’m gonna tell your dad.”

“I don’t think his heart could take it, he did an awful lot of blow back in the day so I’d appreciate it if yeh didn’t do that sir.” She rolled her eyes, taking a subtle jab at her less than respectable antics of her filthy rich father. “Seems like you were doing an awful lot of a different version of blow to me.” the man smirked at his own joke getting a light slap on his bicep in return. “Shut up, I haven’t forgotten when you got gonorrhea when you were 18. You’re just as bad as me.” Y/n poked his ribs making Harry groan at the memory, “I got that treated you asshole. I’ve learned to wrap it before I tap it since then and be selective with what I put my dick in now. For the record, all my std tests have come back clean since so fuck you.”

Y/n gave him an innocent smile back, resting her cheek on her fist. “Is that an offer?”

The response wasn’t one Harry was expecting. Not by a long shot, he hasn’t been inside her in a little over a year so her response to his jab took him by surprise. His eyes immediately met hers, finding a curious glance coming from her orbs. Setting down his glass the man turned towards her, facing her completely before responding.

“If you want it to be.”

Y/n smiled at him, standing up from her stool to get closer to the man pulling him down by his collar to talk in his ear. “Your place or mine?”

After a painful ten-minute taxi ride, they’d made it to Harrys home. They were well aware of looming neighbors and press so they kept it professional till they were inside the four walls of the mansion- rushing up to his bedroom like two teenagers scared of getting caught. Anxious rushing of feet up the stairs hands struggling to stay to themselves on the way to the king-sized bed waiting for them.

After what seemed like forever, the pair burst into Harry’s bedroom the door hitting the wall with a loud bang as the man lurched forward to smash his lips against hers. It was frantic, sloppy and rough- it was fucking hot.

“you drive me up the fuckin’ wall you know that?” His voice was gruff, heavy with lust and jealous rage. Shoving the woman onto his bed with little care, he knew she liked it rough. A fact confirmed to him after he’d seen the rather violent bdsm porn she had saved to her computer and the various sex toys-including restraints, collars and clamps in a box in her closet 2 years ago when she moved into her current home and forced him to help her put everything away.

Y/n let out a small gasp when her body flew onto the mattress, kicking her heels off after she had settled with a smirk painted on her pretty lips. “Do i?” her tone way teasing, hands moving to unzip her dress while the man moved to stand before her yanking the fabric down her body to leave her in only a silk bra and matching thong, his eyes shamelessly taking in the sight of her body- intimate parts only covered with think sections of emerald green silk fabric.

“Ya know I didn’t appreciate you tellin’ that bloke about other men fuckin’ you, was rather impolite y/n.” Harry gave her a stone cold glare whilst tugging his belt out of the loops of his dress pants, tossing it carelessly behind him as the woman dove forward to work the button and zipper of his trousers undone. “Why? You jealous? Are you jealous because I let other men and women fuck me? Are you mad that you never get to taste me, fuck me and cum with me like they do?”

Y/n’s comments were soon cut off by a ring clad hand wrapped itself around her neck with enough pressure to stall her speech. “You never know when to shut the fuck up huh? We both know full well, no one can fuck yeh the way I do. Now, are you gonna quit your blabbering so I can fuck yeh or do I have to shove this skimpy excuse for underwear down that gabby throat? Hmm? Because I like to hear your dirty moans but I’m not a fan of this snarky mouth baby. Are you going to behave or shall I go have a wank instead?”

The pitiful whine accompanied by a pout coming from the woman made Harry’s cock twitch, she was so desperate for it and he had her right where he wanted her. He soon felt her hands pawing at his crotch, tugging the material of his tight dress pants down his legs before returning to pull his cock from the flap in the front of his boxers. It had been entirely too long since he’d held her small soft hands on his prick, watching with baited breath as her right hand moved to rid herself of the sorry excuse for undergarments she had on.

“Want it in, H please”

He obviously couldn’t say no to that, not when she was giving him those eyes and leaning back to show the web of wetness dripping from her slit onto the sheets below her snapping when she swiped her finger through it to rub on his already leaking tip. She had his head swimming, chest heaving and balls pulsing with every move she made.

The man tossed her body further up the bed, getting between her legs giving her no warning as he sunk completely in. The pressure and harshness of the thrust took her breath away, an overwhelming fullness almost uncomfortable as he gave her no time to adjust before driving into her beautiful body. The sound of her wetness clicking when coming in contact with his hips and filthy groans of pleasure filled the space, the slapping of skin harsh in their ears with every nailing of his pelvis into hers.

“This what yeh needed? No one else fucks yeh so good you can’t breathe do they? Got your face goin’ almost purple, feel my cock in your chest don’t you baby?”

His words were filthy, yet held truth. He pulled halfway out to give her a chance to take a few breaths, the dark redness of her oxygen starved face starting to fade to a flustered pink before he continued his rough ramming. Her nails pierced the skin of his tattooed arms, screams of pleasure rawing her throat when she felt her orgasm about to reach it’s peak.

“Holy fuck!”

Her exclamation was loud, filthy and drenched in sultry bliss as the knot in her stomach unraveled. She tried desperately to climb away from his hammering hips, the stimulation making her entire body feel like it was screaming yet his hands kept her pinned to the bed fucking her relentlessly through her orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell! Cummin’ hard huh? No one else can make you cum like this, say it. Tell me baby, admit it”

His teeth were clenched painfully tight as he spoke, Y/n struggling to get her words out with the surge of feeling rushing through her nerves managing to ramble out the words almost incoherently.

“That’s fuckin’ right doll, only I can do this to yeh.”

Even with his body on fire, he held his cocky persona pounding into her a few more times until he jerked his hips out just in time to spill his seed onto her heaving stomach. Watching the ribbons of thick white cum paint her flushed sweaty skin, her body trembling from her orgasm violently while being painted with her ‘enemies’ hot cum.

The bed shook when Harry dropped down beside her, breathless and worn out. a proud smirk painted on his sweaty red face when he turned to the woman who was looking at him already struggling to remember how to breathe. Placing a smacking kiss to her swollen lips, a strong arm tugging her into his sticky side.

For the first time in a long time, they felt content in each other’s grasp. Making them both silently wonder if these feelings weren’t just lust, but something else entirely.

#harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #rivals #CEO!harry #CEO!yn #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn

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id-never-letyoudown · 3 years

Text

Uhhhh part two of the rare pair part 1

"Sleep well, Dove?"

"It's too early for your nonsense." Henry complained, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had not. Slept well, that is. It was the damn nightmares again. They always came this time of year.

Henry had already visited the field. That usually helped things, but not this time.

"Tell me about them."

"Them what?"

"The nightmares." Even though he already knew well enough what they were about. "The men." Wilbur already knew. He's been in Henry's head more times than he could count. He had to make sure he was the right one for the job, after all. He didn't dig through everything in that mess Henry called a mind. His thoughts were constantly all over the place. And why were there so many musicals and chemical compositions in that thing?

Besides, he needed Henry to trust him if this thing was going to work. Something told him digging around that brain of his wouldn't end well.

Henry paused, looking down at his steaming mug of coffee. "They were dear friends of mine. Lovers." He takes a sip, it's more bitter than usual. "I was the cause of their deaths. Though... you already knew that." His eyes flick up to meet Wilbur's over the rim of his mug. "Didn't you?"

"..."

"I knew I could feel something rooting around. You were scoping me out before we even formally met, weren't you?" Henry grins in victory, setting his coffee down with a satisfying 'clack' against the marble counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be pissed?"

"If anything I'm intrigued! Can you read everyone's minds?" He leaned against the counter, head propped in his hand. "Ooo-what else do you know about me? I want the details."

Wilbur snorted, "Course I can. And for the record I don't know everything about you. I stopped looking around after a bit."

"Oh? So I still got some secrets then?" Henry would have thought he'd have long since taken advantage of his abilities. Know him inside and out. "Huh, seems I've pegged you wrong."

"You couldn't peg me at all." He grins.

Henry only shrugged. And something told Wilbur that he didn't get the joke.

Wilbur clears his throat, "Anyway, uh, wanna hear about which of the Monroe brats isn't Gerald's? The answer may shock you." Like a damn click bait article.

Henry's eyes light up, a loud gasp escaping him. "I knew it!" He was always down for gossip. And a scandal like that? It was right up his alley.

Wilbur enjoyed watching the man lose his shit with every little Hatchetfield secret he told him. And there were a lot. He could tell Henry was plenty skeptical of him, but he was getting there. Little by little.

Henry walked into the kitchen to fetch some refreshments for his monthly 'date night' with John and Xander. Used to be bi-monthly. And before that it'd been weekly. Nowadays he found the pair trying to gently nudge him away. And normally it wouldn't have bothered him. But they hadn't started doing this until after he was let go from P.E.I.P. Which made him think.

And think.

And overthink.

He had no problem with leaving the relationship. If they were to simply ask him. But all these hints? He could do without. Xander kept trying to set him up on blind dates. And John was cold. Even when the three of them were intimate. Especially when the three of them were intimate.

It really got him thinking....

His hand barely touches his turtleneck. Was it... no, it couldn't possibly be the scars. John had plenty of his own. Although, baring witness to how Henry got them probably made that very, very different. And there was the nerve damage. And the pain. Which always got worse when there was a storm approaching.

John was his friend. He didn't want him thinking he was responsible for any of that. He should call him-

His phone began ringing, as if on cue. He fetches it from his pocket. Of all the coincidences-

He answers it immediately. "I was just thinking about you, say we really ought to have a chat when you two get here-" his stomach sinks at the reply. "Oh... so, you can't make it then?... No, no. I understand. I hope you two have fun." And he hung up.

He looks at the bottle in his hand. At the neatly set dinner table. At the flowers he picked himself. Apparently the date the three of them made their 'throuple', as the kids called it, official wasn't all that important to them.

Such a shame he had to spend the day alone.

Or... not.

"... Wilbur, how do you like your steak?"

Wilbur was always there, even when he thought he wasn't. He didn't know why he felt comfort in that.

"Who was that?" Xander commented, fixing his tie in the mirror.

"Henry. I was telling him about how we couldn't make... it...." He trailed off when he walked into their bedroom and saw his husband getting dressed. "Where are you going?'

Xander paused, standing up straight. "Couldn't make it next month, right?... You told him next month, right?"

John pressed his lips into a fine line. "Iiiii thought you said-"

"John!" Xander dropped his tie. "Why would I tell you to tell him that we wouldn't be able to make it on the three of us' anniversary?"

"It was a mistake-I'll just call him back real quick." John did not want to face his husband's wrath, he could already feel his eyes melting the back of his skull as he dialed Henry's number. "It's just going straight to voicemail-"

"Get dressed, we're going anyways. And y o u can explain the mix-up."

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Wilbur asked him. Not that he needed to eat. Or had a great sense of taste nowadays. But it was nice to have something to chew on now and again. And it smelled amazing.

"Oh, my aunt. This is all from her recipe book." He seemed rather proud of that fact.

"Well, safe to say those two are missing out."

Henry hums. He's been quiet all through dinner. Still down about being cancelled on with such short notice. "You know what? They are." He stabs his fork a little too forcefully, and sends his mashed potatoes straight in the air. And right smack in his face.

They both pause.

And then Wilbur starts laughing. Which sets Henry into his own fit of giggling.

"Do you hear that?" Xander paused on Henry's doorstep, hearing the laughter coming from inside.

"Doesn't sound like he's alone." John muses, trying to see if he could sneak a peek through one of the windows. He can see Henry fine. But whoever it is he's with is just out of sight.

"John!" Xander whisper shouts, tugging on his husband's sleeve. "You can't just spy on our friend like that!"

"Aren't you curious?" John looks back at Xander.

"I-well-yes! But not enough to spy on him!"

The two continue to bicker quietly, or, they thought they were being quiet.

Wilbur looks over his glass, humming. "You've got guests." The curtains then shut themselves. It was a good thing neither of them could see him. He doubted seeing the former colonel would sit well with either of them. Especially John.

"What-" Henry looks towards the door, face now free of the mess from before. He can hear exactly who it is too. And it both confuses and ticks him off.

"And they know you're not alone. They won't buy it if you say you are." Wilbur stands up, "Gotta make them leave somehow."

Henry wracks his brain for an idea. And seeing as he's well into that bottle of wine, they're not really thought out. "... You can change your appearance, right?"

Wilbur locks eyes with Henry, a grin splitting across his face.

"Just knock."

"You knock-"

Henry opens the door a crack, taking a peek at the two of them. "... I thought you two couldn't make it." He responds plainly, not even greeting them.

"There was a mix-up." Xander explained, elbowing his husband to elaborate.

"I meant to tell you that we wouldn't be able to make it next time." John tells him.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Henry wraps his fingers around the door, glancing back into the house. "Because I ended up taking your advice, Xander. And I think it'd be terribly awkward of me to explain to my date."

Xander is equal parts thrilled and... well, confused. Thrilled because he wanted Henry to have someone to lean on when they weren't around. And confused because Henry had always outright refused whenever Xander brought up mixers or blind dates. "That's wonderful, Hen! Do we know who it is?"

"I ah-well-" Henry blinked, shit. He didn't even know who Wilbur was going to come around that corner looking like-

"Gary Goldstein, attorney at law!" Henry nearly jumped when the man announced himself. His face flushed. He let the door open fully, and there he was. The supposed Gary Goldstein. A faithful rendition, he'd say.

It was an... awkward conversation to say the least. When Henry finally managed to turn the two away he locked the door behind them.

"Whatthefuckwasthat?"

"You didn't tell me w h o to look like! I just chose a rando guy!"

"I... goddamnit." Henry stood there, trying not to laugh at the thoughts that had to be bouncing around in John and Xander's head right about now. "At least you chose someone at least somewhat attractive."

"Yeah, cuz talking non-stop about audits is so attractive." Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, the illusion dropping almost instantly.

Henry smiles, wine getting to his head. "That's much better."

"What?"

"... Hm? Oh, nothing. This was fun. Should do it again sometime."

"You're really going to make an entire plotline-"

"Is that what we're calling our 'reality scheming'?"

"-be quiet, are you really creating an entire plot based off of one thing this Matthews guy said to you?"

".... Yes, of course. Naturally. I'm calling it 'The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals'... hm, sure is a mouthful. What do you think?" Henry slides over his tablet to show Wilbur, who doesn't know if he should be impressed or not.

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to get a good look at it. "... You know, I think the big man might actually get a kick out of this."

"Speaking of, am I ever going to meet this 'Wiggley' character?" Henry slides his tablet back, tapping on the screen before resuming his scribbling.

"Depends on how well you perform, Dove-"

"Why do you call me that?" Henry looked up, reading glasses askew. He pulls them off to clean them up, fetching a cloth from his coat pocket.

"What, you don't like it?" Like that'd stop him. Wilbur watches Henry. He can't decide if he likes him better with or without the glasses-

"I just find it odd, is all. I don't mind it." He slides them back on, looking back up at him once again. "You called me that the first time we met-"

"That wasn't the first time we met."

"Excuse me?"

Wilbur is no longer sitting on the table. Henry thinks he's up and left until he finds him sitting in the living room, just barely visible from the kitchen. He gets up and follows him with a huff.

"I watched you for a while, before that day. I saw a lot of things." He chuckles, "Lotta embarrassing things too. But that's not the point." He pops his feet up on the coffee table. "I saw you with that bird a while back. You were talking to it. Thought it was kinda kooky, kinda sweet."

Henry has to think for a while, and then his face softens. "The bird you saw was one I nursed back to health." He sighs, walking up to him and kicking his legs so he's forced to move them. "Get your damn feet off my mahogany." He then walks past him, just to sit on the other end of the couch.

Wilbur scowls. He could kill Henry so easily, doesn't he know that? "How kind."

"It was either that or put it out of its misery." Henry makes himself comfortable, leaning back on the couch.

"I doubt you'd have the guts to do that."

"You don't think I'm capable of mercy killing? That's laughable." Henry eyes him, "Look in my mind and find out. Go on. You have my permission."

Wilbur did. And it hit him all at once. It wasn't that the scene shocked him. He just hadn't been prepared for the rush of emotion.

He saw Henry's hands. Injecting something into an IV drip. Shaking as they did so. And a man. So pale and sickly. Just lying on the bed. But he was smiling. And that's all he could see before Henry pushed him out.

"Promise me something, Wilbur."

He looked at him. So he actually was going to use that damn condition then? "... What?"

"Don't ever underestimate me or think me incapable." He curled up on the couch, looking ready to settle in for some sleep. "Promise me, Wilbur." His eyes weren't leaving him anytime soon.

"... I promise."

Henry seemed satisfied, now closing his eyes. "Alexa, play my Sleep playlist."

As soft music filled the room, Wilbur realized that maybe he bit off more than he could chew. Henry was chosen for a reason. He had to remember that.

He also realized it really didn't take long for Henry to fall asleep. At all. Out like a light.

Wilbur gets up, not even thinking when he takes the professor's glasses off for him. "Dumbass."

#tgwdlm #cridgens #henry hidgens #wilbur cross #professor hidgens #black friday musical

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kuroos-moon · 3 years

Text

with all that’s left, kenjirou

pairing: med student shirabu x hospital patient reader

summary: apparently, you’ve got limited time left. with that in mind, you don’t see a point to living through everyday, but changes in hospital rotations occur and a cold med student wounds up in your hospital room.

warning/s: hospital setting, terminal reader, pessimistic/apathetic thoughts

a/n: i might do a part two idk i lowkey could see this as a series just for the fun of it

wc: 3.4k

Slowly blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you instantly recognize the absence of sunlight that’d normally leave you huffing and groaning by now. Your room was gloomy and dark, you realize, but it had to be daytime, as confirmed by the bland mechanical clock across from where you lay on your bed; you’ve grown accustomed to looking at it as soon as you woke up.

7:30 am, it read.

Normally, you’d be up by seven sharp in courtesy of that psychotic nurse of a friend of yours, the room would be bright and sunny too unlike now.

Plain white curtains were still over the window to your left, a few steps from your bed—it wasn’t wide, in fact, it was stupidly small considering that it was the only window in the room—but you’ve long ascertained that two people could stand together close enough and see through it comfortably.

Your days were uniformed. Your nurse would wake you up too damn early in the morning, try to radiate some happiness into you—not that you’re depressed—and then she’ll proceed with giving you your medication even though you could do it yourself, then she injects that stinging, numbing liquid in the tube that always made you feel sleepy, and lastly, she checks your vitals—your current state, your response to the treatment.

You always loathe that part the most, although you appreciate her trying to ease it away with chitter chatter. She wouldn’t pass as an actress though even if her life depended on it, she couldn’t contain what she truly felt. It was painfully easy to tell you’re getting worse by the look on her face and her frightened, disappointed eyes—and it made you feel bitter, what else did you expect, Yui?

But of course you loved her too much to actually voice that out, she’s the only one who stuck around; and even if she denies it every single time, you know she gave up her dreams to live abroad to keep you company until your last breath.

It’s neither a pro nor a con, but considering the lack of life in the room, you succumb to the emptiness, idly laying on your bed and getting stuck in a daze of nonentity as you stare up at the ceiling. It’s neither peaceful nor lonely either, it’s just reality.

Hearing fast approaching footsteps getting closer, you know it could only be Yui, and for a split second you consider locking your door, her personality would only brighten up your room which was dark and gloomy for a change, and you wanted to leave it as it is.

Maybe she’ll let you keep the curtains closed if you begged enough. Maybe.

The door, which was to your right, slides open and you sigh—here we go.

“Good morning y/n-chan!”

“Morning Yui,” you try to sound cheerful without looking at her.

“Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of some things and I have sad news for you!”

You jokingly glare at her, “what do you mean you’re late? You don’t need to be here at all every 7 in the morning like a living alarm clock. I’m still a patient y’know, need sleep and all that.”

She only chuckles at you, heading for the windows to tie your curtains.

“Can you leave them like that? I actually like it this way,” you mutter.

“Nope, let’s live in a vibrant environment shall we,” she muses, proceeding to open the curtains much to your distaste. Fortunately, even when she had them opened, the sky was covered with thick dark clouds—it would rain later on, but more importantly, your room remains bleak and lifeless.

“Why do you look so pleased?” She scowls at you and you grin. “My room reflects my withering life for a change.” It’s far too late the moment you realize you’ve said those words out loud.

You don’t even need to sit up or turn your head to look at her to know she’s crying right now. Keeping your eyes closed, you listen to her mutter curses at you and how you should cherish the time you have left.

It’s not that you’re depressed or bitter about how your life’s apparently fading away. But you’re much too realistic and you’ve long accepted that your life is fading away. There’s nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t bring yourself to be someone who appreciates every single second left or one who starts crashing out things from their bucket list either (you’re not even sure if you have one).

To you, your life is as good as gone. If it ends, it ends—it’s no big deal. And the fact that your mindset is so dull, your life painfully as monotonous, it’s not too much for you to ask for that your room should be the same. This sunless, dreary environment is greatly to your taste. Having it lit up so brightly, to add to that, Yui’s cheerful attitude, leaves you feeling like there should be more to your life than what it actually is: short and numbered.

“Said I was sorry,” you mutter, still lying on your back with closed eyes. She only sniffles, “try to lighten up the mood, will you? As I said I even have sad news.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not assigned to check on you anymore. There’s been a change in rotations with the increasing med students around.”

While it isn’t exactly sad news to you, it’s not pleasant either. It means that someone completely unknown to you would check your condition twice every single day.

“Who gets lucky enough to take care of me in your place then?”

She huffs and you could already tell she despises the person.

“A fifth-year med student. He’s such a stuck-up, smart-mouth imbecile just because he gets stupidly good grades.”

“What? Don’t tell me you fought with him already or something,” you joke.

“Duh! Why else do you think I wasn’t here early? Like he’s apparently really smart, he undermined even his previous seniors that’s why they hated him and doctors here favor him too.”

“Thank you, though I don’t really think my wits and brains are as extraordinary as you make it out to be,” eloquently says a smooth, soothing yet distant voice to your right.

Your heads turn to the tall guy who stood by your doorframe. His disinterested eyes were on Yui and you could assume she was glaring back at him because that’s just the way she is—you’re simply too preoccupied with taking in the sight of him to confirm what Yui’s facial expression is right now.

His eyes are an even shade of brown, and brown was too warm a color for them to look so cold. The absence of any apparent emotion on his facial features made him appear so unapproachable and intimidating—not that you’re intimidated—and there was something in the way he carried himself and stood so upright that makes him seem so authoritative and composed.

“You!” Yui hisses, you slowly sit up, reminded of the awkward situation you’ve been put in all because she had to talk bad about someone without closing the door first. “Nurse Sato, was it? It’s a pleasure to be of your acquaintance again. Do you mind leaving so I could tend to the patient?”

Similar to his eyes, his hair was a coper brown, and you could tell he took good care of his hair from the way it seemed so well-combed and soft. How could one even look so good and smart in a white coat? And here you thought you’ve seen enough doctors in this lifetime to be at awe from the sight of someone with the same attire, holding a similar clipboard.

“You’re an annoying little br-

“I’m older than you, Nurse Sato. And professionally, you shouldn’t be losing composure in front of a patient, let alone be raising your voice.” He is simply so blunt and cold; you’re torn between snickering at Yui for getting dissed or remaining silent because he might have something to scold you for too.

Before Yui could say anything else, you intervene. “Hey, you still have your rounds to do, okay? I’ll be fine, go do your job or something,” you chuckle a bit as she grits her teeth, glaring at Mr. Icy Med Student by the door then at you.

“Are you taking his side?”

“If that means you’ll leave, then yes, I’m taking his side,” you grin at her. She leaves with a huff, attempting to bump his shoulder but he dodges with an unamused look pointed at her.

Now that you’re alone with him, you suddenly want Yui back. Why are you feeling so awkward anyway? You’ve met tons of doctors and hospital personnel.

He closes the door behind him the moment Yui disappears, your eyes remaining focused on your hands at your lap as you hear the slow clicking of his shoes making its way to your bedside. The footsteps come to a halt, and you couldn’t tell if you were nervous because you haven’t seen much new faces for so long or because he himself just made you nervous like a natural law.

“Good Morning, I’m Shirabu Kenjirou, a fifth-year medical student and I��ll be the one to monitor and tend to you on weekdays,” he says, and as you’ve observed, he had such a soothing voice, it could only be because he was training to be a doctor and patients had to be comfortable around him.

Right, why would you not look at him? He’s just another one of many whose job is to look after you until your last day. He isn’t special. Like it was some easy feat, you finally look up at him, a part of you wishing you hadn’t as you feel your breath getting caught up in your throat upon meeting such far-off yet captivating brown eyes.

He looks at you expectantly, and you get that it was because he’s waiting for you to introduce yourself. “You already know my name,” you mutter, looking away from him. He slightly raises his brows in surprise, in fact, he does know your name already, but that was an unusual response said with an undoubtedly lifeless accent—not that he cares—he’s just observant and sharp-witted.

“Y/n L/n, is that correct?” He momentarily looks down on his clipboard although he memorized your name the first time he heard it; he’s gifted with ridiculously sharp memory too. You nod, looking outside the window, surprised that it was raining.

“Then if you don’t mind,” he says under his breath, putting down his clipboard on the table beside you before grabbing an injection and some bottled stuff you still don’t know the name of from the metallic cart by the foot of your bed. Your eyes are locked on him, injecting that stuff from the bottle seemed like a small thing to do but he still looked so focused.

The same goes for when he injects it to the tube connected to the needle in your left hand and the liquid-containing bag that serves as your daily needed life savers so that you could still walk and move around. You wince a bit, feeling the all-too familiar sting of the process.

Normally, doctors or nurses would ask you if you were okay and if it hurt when you winced like that. Not him though, and you narrow your eyes at him in curiosity. “You’re not gonna ask it?”

“Ask what?” It’s crazy how his voice does things to you you can’t quite explain, and you reason that it’s maybe because he doesn’t speak much.

“If it hurts,” you shrug. “Don’t move,” he snaps, sharp eyes finding yours before they look down on his busy hands again. Even his hands were pretty, and for a moment you wonder if they feel as nice as they look.

There’s a moment of silence before he walks away from you, checking your vitals and scribbling who knows what on his clipboard. You eye the two extra pens in his pocket, and you reckon he really is uptight with himself as he looks and acts so disciplined. Why would he need that many extra pens?

and why should you care? an inner voice asks.

He may be fixated on what he’s doing, but he could tell how intently you stared at him. Perhaps you were waiting for him to answer your question? He doesn’t want to. He’s not one to engage on conversations that are trivial—he knows better than to actually know more than what’s necessary of someone dying.

Shirabu certainly gets the vibe off you that you cared about nothing anymore, and he’s not exactly empathetic enough to actually feel sorry about your limited time alive.

Still, it was slightly getting to him how your eyes never left his figure though he never pegged himself to be easily self-conscious. “Why didn’t I ask if it hurt,” he mutters and you look at him in surprise. “I know that it hurts, and if I were to ask and you were to say yes, I wouldn’t know what to say other than meaningless encouragements. I don’t like saying things I don’t mean and I assume you don’t want to hear them either.”

“You’re right.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye for a while, you’re just staring out the window. “Do you want me to close the curtains?” He asks, but you decline and he doesn’t talk anymore after that.

“That’s it for now, thank you for your cooperation, Ms. L/n. If you ever need anything else, tell me now.” When you don’t say anything, he doesn’t spare you a second glance before he turns on his heel, about to make a leave.

“Wait,” you call, and he stops, turning around to look at you. “I’d prefer if you don’t call me miss.”

“Shall I call you mister then?”

You blink. “Is that what you call a joke?”

You could make out the slight knitting of his brows. “I was being sarcastic. It’s only professional to address you formally as you are a patient,” he strictly says, a small frown on his lips.

So you do know how to make faces, that’s the only thing on your mind as you both look at each other in silence for a mere short seconds before you speak again.

“Then is it professional to be sarcastic, Kenjirou-san?” You don’t notice the small smile on your lips but he does. Are you having a kick out of prolonging his stay in your private hospital room? He somehow dislikes it here, it made him uneasy and deep down he knows it wasn’t because of the room itself and more so because of you.

“It isn’t. My apologies, Miss L/n.”

“I said not to call me that,” you unintentionally snap. There’s no reason behind not wanting to be called that really, it just doesn’t sound right. “If you say so, y/n-san. Anything else you need?”

A grin accidentally slips out, he sounded casual and that, plus his voice, was the most pleasant thing ever. You can’t explain why you’re feeling something other than emptiness, nor are you aware that you’re somewhat giddy—you’ve far long thrown away feelings in order to survive daily with your sanity intact.

“Could I borrow a pen?” You ask him.

He sighs, stepping close to your bed and grabbing a pen from the pocket of his coat before handing it to you. You look at it for a few seconds before taking it in your own hand, your skins barely untouching but somehow, at the back of Shirabu’s mind, he ponders if your fingertips were cold to touch considering how cold your room is.

“Thanks, I’ll return it to you later.”

He nods, putting his hands in his pockets, only realizing how cold they were when he looked at yours and wondered the same. Upon much deliberation, he looks sideways, much too prideful to look at you. “Are you feeling cold?”

You could only smile, unconsciously that is, but it surprised him still. “Now that you say it, yeah, it is quite cold.”

Before you know it, he’s walked out the door and you scoff loud enough for him to hear before he closes it. “What was the point of asking me then?” You mutter under your breath, already feeling drowsy from the injected thingy.

The moment he was out of your sight, he stands still, his back leaning to your door. You confused him somehow, because he did hear your conversation with Yui. You totally struck him as someone who’s come to terms with their fate however ill, you’re not exactly depressed but you’re not what he considers a living person either.

He shakes his head, what am I saying? He’s training to be a doctor yet he thinks someone breathing isn’t living—it just doesn’t make sense. But except for the fact that it does make sense. He’s heard of your name a couple times before, nurses and med students like him preferred to be the ones in charge of you because you were neither depressed or too friendly—you didn’t take a toll on their energy, they say.

That’s entirely untrue for his case. Sure, you weren’t a talker nor were you especially gloomy for someone ill, but there’s something completely and inexplicably unusual going on from the moment you evaded his mind more than necessary. He should think about what he does after he finishes with one thing, he should think about what you need—what a patient needs.

Instead, he secretly wondered why you smiled at him so genuinely when you seemed so disconnected and disinterested with everything. Deep down, he wanted to know what was on your mind when you were staring at the rain through that small window of yours.

What’s more to that is he doesn’t know why he wasn’t as focused on the task on hand as much as he liked, was it because of your conversation? If so, at which point did he feel so compelled to ask you more—to ask you why you needed his pen?

Looking at his watch, he grits his teeth, disappointed in himself. It took him way much more time than it should for him to be done with you, and to think he prided himself for being someone efficient.

The moment you wake up, your eyes land immediately on the clock. It’s a quarter past noon, and it was still raining outside, the rain only getting heavier and louder. Your room still looked as dark and bland as when you first woke up this morning and you’re thankful that the icky bright sunlight didn’t creep in while you were dozed off.

Sitting up, you finally notice the thin blanket you slept in folded neatly at the foot of your bed yet you feel so warm—at peace and relaxed even. You clutch the thick blanket over your frame, looking at it in surprise and a long forgotten feeling—happiness.

It feels weird but unknowingly, you had the urge to go out of your way and thank him for it. It is his job to do so after all, still, if you’re grateful, you’re grateful.

In honor of the thick blanket, maybe you should eat on time. You’ve been far too rebellious and uncaring, at least for today, you should be good. As you were about to pick up your tray from your bedside table, something caught your eye. There were pieces of paper beside it, the pen you borrowed atop the papers.

You tilt your head in wonder. There was surely not a single paper in sight earlier, it’s the reason why you haven’t started writing yet. It’s not like the lady assigned to give you meals suddenly decided to give you papers as well as if she knew what you were up to.

Could it be Kenjirou? Just the thought of that possibility has your lips curled up in a smile all day—as you finish your meal, as you took a bath, changed clothes, and watched television on your bed.

“Geez, you seem so happy today of all days when the weather’s bad,” Yui gives you a look, sitting on the small couch beside your bed because she was apparently on break.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. I’m saying you’ve been so dead lately—and I meant that figuratively—despite my best efforts to lighten the mood and let some sunlight in your room. Now that the weather’s bad, your room’s dark, and that annoying Shirabu replaced me I…”

“What?” You mindlessly glance back up at the clock at the mention of his name, the fuzzy feeling back at the pit of your stomach all over again. At 7 pm, that distant smart-mouth brown-eyed medical student would walk right in again.

“I’ve never seen you look so alive, y/n.”

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#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #shirabu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios

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frightfurtabby · 3 years

Text

Himikiyo Week 2021 Day 2! Bookstore Ambience

// Likewise with yesterdays entry, amino crossposting to be added later. i feel this one’s pretty damn cute

later edit- all links will be collected later in an individual post that will act as a guide/directory.

Word count: 1837

Link

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/34138636

Amino- https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-day-2-bookstore-ambience/d3DX_eE8Sbum1JjvngPBwrwNV6mNR1eD7WR

A first date, depending on who you asked, was either more nerve wracking or less so than you expect. Kiyo wasn’t sure which they’d agree with but nonetheless they were fretting. Pacing back and forth in their office at the university. A cute teacher from another department had ended up inviting them out on a date, like a date date. They’d been on the job for a few years now but hardly socialized much outside the other anthropology staff who were understanding of at least some of their eccentricities.

Then just before the start of the previous semester the college hired a new batch of professors including one taking a spot over in the English department in a room in just the opposite hall. So they would see her often in the mornings downstairs in line at Coffee place, usually she was to the back of the line and they’d cross paths when Kiyo was going up with their usual order. The first sighting was like this, and entirely by chance as the anthropologist had to turn to answer a colleague briefly and eye contact was made with the cute redhead in line just over the other’s shoulder, Himiko Yumeno.

They soon hit it off, spending time talking to each other in between class periods in one room, the other, or in the previously mentioned cafe. About work, future plans, what they did in their spare time. Kiyo was always busy doing work, research generally and most of their interests revolved around it and there were days in a row just immersing themself in study. It was like that for as long as they could remember, though what in particular they were fascinated by changed over time.

Legends of monsters, legends of heroes, artifacts left behind, Asia, North America, Africa, they’d deep dive into something and come out the other end being aware of enough to teach their students in extreme detail. Little did they know at the time but in a moment of serendipity just before they met Himiko they felt a pull toward researching the history of magic. And then it turned out that she was interested in that as well.

There were very few days they didn’t find a chance to talk. They had a shared routine every day, and now was a step up.

Kiyo adjusted their collar and tie before straightening out the skirt a bit more and wondered if it was all a little too formal and they were overthinking this. They did tend to do that kind of thing after all. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of an issue, Himiko was definitely understanding of that kind of thing, they knew that much already. There were also the times they’d complained of that trait and she called it “adorable.”

It was to a bookstore with a cafe in it, so they didn’t need to be terribly formal. Kiyo remembered that it was taking place at around 8 tonight and looked over at the clock and realized that it was much sooner than they thought. She would be showing up any moment. Time went somewhere while they were lost in thought so they quickly put on their shoes, grabbed an umbrella just in case and headed out to the bus stop that was only a few blocks away.

The couple met while Himiko was sitting on the bench still, tapping away at her phone to text Kiyo to make sure everything was alright.

She looked up after hearing footsteps and sighed in relief. “You never seemed much like the type to show up late.”

“My apologies.”

“You also never seemed like the type to straight up ditch either, so…” she blushed and looked over down sheepishly. “I was getting a little worried something happened and you couldn’t pick me up as soon.”

“I got a bit distracted. I-” their explanation started as they took a break with her to sit and rest, arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“Was trying to make yourself extra cute for me?” the redhead teased, putting an arm around them right back and leaning in cutely..

“I… yes, I won’t deny that.” It was a cloudy evening and the autumn breeze blew downed leaves past where they had sat and began to cuddle on the bench. “You know how it is sometimes.”

“Yeah, I remember the time you genuinely didn’t grasp that the poetry I had been showing you for your input was, in fact, about you.”

Kiyo chuckled. “Oh god yeah, that took me a few to even have an inkling of it going on. I just might be the most useless lesbian ever.”

“Mmm, you’re useful for warmth sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Hehe, y-you know what I mean. Like right now, it’s a bit chilly but you being here makes it not so bad.” The first date was finally here, after they had planned it to be a day they were both free. So the woman was going to savor every moment of it.

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

The couple approached the doors of the date location holding hands, under the umbrella. Skin made cold by the walk over in spite of hands sharing warmth. Small flecks of rain along the top of the umbrella dripped down. Inside, Kiyo instantly felt the warmth of the building. It wasn’t a long trek at all, if it was they would have done this by car. Everything around here was luckily close to the campus, including home.

The umbrella was put back in its holder, so as not to drip all over the place. It would be rude to do so.

Kiyo turns and gives Himiko a peck on the cheeks. “Food and coffee first, darling?”

The shorter woman nodded and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

It was just to the back left corner from the entrance. Rows and rows of enticing books had to be passed by before you could reach it, but who would come and not buy anything? Romance, sci-fi and fantasy, Manga and light novels too were all present.

After ordering, they got one booth to share, and sat down at the same side. Kiyo’s umbrella, bag, and jacket sat on the ground on the very inside corner. Everything they had ordered would be coming up, and luckily there wasn’t that much of a line on evening’s like this. The barista was even a student from university and had recognized them. It was awkward at first but Kiyo joked that it would be interesting to see which class would become fully aware they were dating first.”Let’s turn it into an experiment. Who has more Gossips attending their lectures?”

And they were glad that put her more at ease. It felt nice gently rubbing Himiko’s shoulder with their hand as she leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek.

“Well, I sure hope it’s not mine. That’d be a pain.” she said to play into the gag a bit more. “Besides, it’d be fitting for your class.”

Kiyo feigned offense, mock gasping “Hey now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, just you observant types over in anthropology, always wanting to know everything you can about how people work. I can see that tendency being correlated.”

They had told her previously they thought about doing more research for a paper about something like that after listening to some of their colleagues, ironic though it may be, gossipping about student rumors.

“Point taken.” Kiyo returned her smooch with their own, directly on her forehead.

The coffee and tea arrived first. So the talk continued with the added benefit of drinks. Himiko changed the subject to books on her to-read list. “You know there’s this new book I’ve been thinking of assigning in a future quarter, I’d have to read it first.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about this girl that finds out that she has magical powers and gets some training, eventually she encounters a strange, beautiful spirit and they fall in love. I always feel like courses need a little more gay love. Oh, and the author is too, so the representation is genuine.”

KIyo nodded and listened. “That’s very good. Perhaps we’ll get a couple copies? I’ll pay. I’ll also be getting a few things that have been on my list for a while.”

They held hands, sat so close. Hans resting between both of their legs. It was such a good time to fit in cuddling any time there was a little lull in the action of the date. Some time to lazily place kisses.

Right on cue the meal arrived. Breakfast for dinner was a classic, from the bacon egg and cheese on croissant to the pie slices as a dessert. Reluctantly, they separated to more easily eat and drink.

“This is as good as it usually is, mmm, actually, it’s even better.” Himiko said, taking their hand again.

“I agree. I don’t know if coming alone will cut it for me any more.” Kiyo leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Shall we move on to the next leg, or savor this moment some more?”

The food was finished or wrapped up for later.

After a few more minutes cuddling in the booth, the couple looked through the aisles closer to the cafe portion first and Kiyo’s stack started, growing through each section until they had to split the load and have Himiko carry some.

“Sheesh, I thought you were only getting a few.” she complained, intending it to be lighthearted.

“My list is quite long.” Kiyo replied with a chuckle.

“Guess this is why you needed the bag then. If this was only a few I have to imagine it’s as long as you are.”

“Oh my~” the tall one replied, complete with suggestive eyebrow wiggling.

“Kiyo! Not like that, I meant your height. Did Iruma from the Engineering department teach you that one?”

As that line of discussion thankfully ceased the couple came to the one Himiko was looking for, it was up front on the display close to the cashier. She picked up one copy and put it on her pile and handed the second over to Kiyo.

“We could have, like, a little book club date. Just the two of us.” If only it weren’t so difficult to nuzzle close due to all these books, she thought.

“I think I’d enjoy that. Your company is always a pleasure darling.” They briefly leaned up close, cutely brushing against her before leading the way to check out.

Himiko blushed. “Yeah this was nice, we should do it more often.”

With a couple of coupons Kiyo kept in their pocket the price was cut down, but still cracked 12,000 yen. They stuffed the back full and carried it over their shoulder. Umbrella similarly along their back for if it would be needed again.

Arms wrapped around each other, the couple walked out and noticed the rain had stopped for now, and it would be dry on the bus trips back home.

#himikiyo week #himikiyo #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #college professor #au #bookstore #first date #writing #fanfic #danganronpa #danganronpa v3

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