#yes i know I KNOW this is irrelevant to most but i am s t r e s s e d and this is the closest sports-related blog that i have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr is used by 21% of adults online aged 18-29 years.

#yes i know I KNOW this is irrelevant to most but i am s t r e s s e d and this is the closest sports-related blog that i have

a-student-out-of-time · 1 year

Note

dont know if you been asked this but i am curious

would you genuinely consider sdra2 a bad fangan/story?like what rating would you exactly give it if you can,what are the major positives and negatives in your eyes?

//I don't think SDRA2's a bad fangan, it's just a deeply flawed one. I know I complain about it a lot, and that's because LINUJ is capable of great writing. He just has this weird habit of undercutting his work for inexplicable reasons ^^;

//As for the big pros and cons of SDRA2 in my opinion?

+ Overall, the cast, at least for the first two chapters, is pretty solid and I like their dynamics. They're all pretty well-written and nobody feels flat + I like how this game utilizes the Neo World Program as more than just a setting, but integrates its mechanics into the plot as well + The decision to reveal Mikado as the mastermind from the very beginning was a good one, allowing us to get to know him as this theatrical villain through the whole game + Having essentially four traitors in the group was also an interesting idea and changed up the dynamic + The character drama concerning Sora and Yuki, especially in Chapter 5, is really well done, especially with how it connects back to the first game + I really enjoyed Hibiki's character growth in the first half of the game + Sora and Yoruko's relationship is fantastic + Having the characters from Chapter 6.5 of DRA really feels like it has a nice bit of continuity to things

-Even if it had some different elements, I personally would've enjoyed it better if the Another games didn't keep following up the canon ones with the exact same setting ideas, going from Hope's Peak to an island -The game doesn't have a solid theme. It's supposed to be about Progress vs. Result, but this is only apparent through dialogue, rather than made clear through the actual narrative and events of the story. Actually trying to follow the story's events to find a cohesive theme will just leave you floundering. -Most of the cast unfortunately feels superfluous, as the story is mostly centered on the Voids and Utsuro. Hibiki sadly gets the worst of it there, where her story feels less like a tragedy and more like a meaningless death for the sake of having a shocking twist -Chapters 3, 4, and 6 are very weak compared to the rest of the game. One is almost completely irrelevant to the actual story, one was rewritten to avoid being too similar to another fangan and one is stuffed to the gills with exposition and infodumps because of the latter two. - Kanade. She's overrated, poorly-written shock bait, and the more you go back and re-experience the story of SDRA2, the more you can see how pointless she really is as a character. She either shouldn't be there at all or Chapter 3 should've been rewritten to actually have her expose one of the Voids. That might actually convince me that she's supposed to be smart -While I understand why it happens, a lot of the characters get far too mean, bitter, argumentative or villainous for me to get invested. Iroha is basically useless, does nothing but cry and whine and depend on others, and yet survives to the end without a drop of character development. Kokoro honestly gets the worst of it in Chapter 0, to the point that it feels borderline ableist to me. -The Sixth Trial feels like it veers off too much into "Yes, but" territory, where we constantly cycle between problem and solution, and it gets really repetitive. Having Sora win thanks to having Divine Luck at least doesn't feel like too much of a cop out, given that it's literally the focal point of the story, but it still felt like things were drawn out too long and there was too little foreshadowing on a lot of elements for them not to feel like they came out of left field. -LINUJ's weird insistence with undercutting the emotional core of many of the characters' arcs, which you can see especially in the character profiles and blog posts. It feels like a bad cast of telling and not showing, where he tells us that we shouldn't feel sympathy for people like the Voids, that people like Syobai never change and that Kanade's entire personality revolves around her sister. All of it undermines the actual story if you read them. -Sora keeps sisterzoning Yoruko and I have no idea why

#mod talks #a student out of time #sdra2 #super danganronpa another 2

9 notes · View notes

jade-eclipse-li · 1 year

Text

Eclipse:🟠

G-guys! I-i just found out something!

Bubble Girl:

Oh no, is it something bad?

Nighteye:

Not likely. He’s stuttering on his words and his eyes are glowing brightly in orange. He only stutters when he’s excited. Orange means two things, anger and enthusiasm. He’s going to talk something about Dragon Ball.

Bubble Girl:

Is it?

Eclipse: 🟠

Y-yes, exactly. S-so, demons are a-afraid off-

I mean of-

s-salt cuz it hurts them, r-right?

Bubble Girl:

I don’t know.

Nighteye:

Most in myths, yes.

Bubble Girl:

How would you know that??

Nighteye:

Irrelevant, continue.

Eclipse: 🟠

A-and slugs are also afraid of salt c-cuz it also hurts them.

Bubble Girl:

Well i do know that one. And?

Eclipse: 🟠

T-then Piccolo is also a slug a-and demon at the same time! W-wouldn’t salt be super d-deadly to him?

Bubble Girl & Nighteye:

Bubble Girl:

You have no Idea how confused i am right now.

Nighteye:

Oh, i see.

Bubble Girl:

You do?! Are you secretly a nerd, sir?

Nighteye:

Very funny. I have All Might’s merchandises, memorized all his cases and posses large scale of knowledge that nobody would’ve known, i am indeed a nerd.

Bubble Girl:

Would someone explain this to me?!

Eclipse: 🟠

I-

Bubble Girl:

No. Not you. You are stuttering which people often does when they’re nervous or scared, which you are not, which is very confusing.

Nighteye:

Piccolo is a character from Dragon Ball that happens to be Eclipse’s favourite. He has a list that states why he loves him very much.

Bubble Girl:

You do?

Eclipse: 🟠

*nods head excitedly*

Nighteye:

He is a race from space, the Namekians. They don’t have any sex organs which they wouldn’t need any as they reproduce by spitting eggs. They also don’t have genders, but they are mostly referred as males.

Bubble Girl:

Are they Yoshis?

Nighteye:

Very funny. Piccolo is different from the other people from his race. He’s a demon.

Bubble Girl:

So Piccolo, a demon slug, could literally die from contacting with salt.

Nighteye:

Yes.

Eclipse: 🟠

*grinning like an idiot*

Bubble Girl:

Is it too late to watch the series? It sounds very interesting.

Nighteye:

Never.

#incorrect qoute bnha #bnha #bnha au #ask away!#incorrect qoute #piccolo #slug #demon #demon slug #salt #Nighteye #dragon ball #dragon ball super #bubble girl #jade #bnha oc #orange means enthusiastic

2 notes · View notes

voxiiferous · 10 months

Text

Extra! Extra! Exclusive Interview with Overlord Vox!

If anyone else wants to fill this out for their muse, go for it! It's also far and away The Longest sort of these I have ever done for any muse. Hence the read more.

G E N E R A L

[ name ]: Vox... though in life it was Vincent Price.

[ nicknames ]: In life it was Vince.

[ birthday ]: January 19th

[ birthplace ]: Pennsylvania.

[ age ]: Counting since death? 108. If only until, then 40.

[ eye color ]: Red.

[ height ]: 7'0"

[ weight ]: Synthetic parts don't weigh the same as flesh.

[ nationality ]: American... though America doesn't exist in Hell, so... Pride?.

[ astrological sign ]: Capricorn/Aquarius cusp.

[ location ]: My living room.

[ siblings ]: No.

[ pets ]: Just Vark.

[ in the morning i’m ]: Awake? At work?

[ all i need is ]: A vacation would be nice.

[ love is ]: real? Dia and Hellaina are certainly in love.

[ i’m afraid of ]: Failure, mostly. People finding out my secrets.

[ i dream about ]: Work. My life.

H A V E . Y O U . E V E R ?

[ pictured your crush naked? ]: yeah of course. Who hasn’t?

[ used someone? ]: You don’t get to where I am without it.

[ been used? ]: most people have the good sense not to, but yes.

[ been cheated on? ]: It's not cheating if you're broken up. It's not cheating if it's an open relationship.

[ considered cheating? ]: same rules apply.

[ been kissed? ]: I’ve been in a relationship for 50 years. What do you think?

[ done something you regret? ]: ... ("You have to answer the question, Vox.") Yes.

F A V O R I T E

[ food? ]: I haven’t been able to eat in seventy years, at this point, anything.

[ fruit? ]: I probably had more cherries than anything, but that’s just because they were everywhere.

[ candy? ]: I make candy, so V&Vs. (“You’ve never even tried them.”) Irrelevant.

[ color? ]: Blue

[ number? ]: Who’s got a favourite number? (“You’re being paid to answer the question.”) π (“An actual number.”) I don’t even know? 5?

[ animal? ]: Sharks

[ drink? ]: Old Fashioned

[ soda? ]: I haven’t had a soda in a long time.

[ book? ]: Anything other than my engineering textbooks.

[ room? ]: probably my living room?

[ movie? ]: The Old Dark House from 1932-- the original one.

D O . Y O U ?

[ have a boyfriend/girlfriend? ]: Yeah— Valentino for the last 50 years. (“He’s a rat bastard.”) Hellaina doesn’t like him as you can tell.

[ like cleaning? ]: why the fuck would I when I can pay people to do that for me?

[ have a tattoo? ]: nope

[ have any piercings? ]: Also no.

[ cheat on tests/homework? ]: I was the kid people wanted to cheat off of.

[ drink/smoke? ]: do? No, not for lack of desire, just lack of ability.

[ swear a lot? ]: take a wild fucking guess.

[ like watching sunrises or sunset? ]: Eh? Hell’s aren’t really that aesthetically pleasing. Just sort of red and darker red.

[ pray? ]: I thought the whole thing was ridiculous when I was eight, that’s not changed.

[ go to church? ]: not a lot of churches in Hell.

[ have secrets? ]: Consider who I am and the answer is real clear.

[ have a best friend? ]: Yeah of course. Vel’s a delight. (“Seriously? I’m right here.”) And also Hellaina.

[ like your own handwriting? ]: I haven’t had to hand write anything in decades— I wouldn’t even know.

A R E . Y O U ?

[ obsessive? ]: In some things.

[ excited? ]: Not really.

[ bored? ]: Constantly.

[ happy? ]: ... let's not answer that one.

[ missing someone? ]: No one to miss babes.

[ confused? ]: No.

[ tired? ]: At this point I think 'perpetually exhausted' is just a state of being.

[ mad? ]: ("As a hatter,") No, in fact.

[ sleepy? ]: Tired yes, sleepy no.

D O . Y O U . E V E R ?

[ wait around just to talk to someone? ]: People wait to talk to me.

[ write about those ‘special’ moments? ]: What do I look like? A sentimental fool who needs a diary? ("Voxtagram?") Like that's the same.

[ wish you were a member of the opposite sex? ]: Not something I want to bring on myself.

W H O . W A S . T H E . L A S T . P E R S O N . W H O ?

[ you talked to? ]: Hellaina.

[ you hugged? ]: ...does Vark count?

[ you kissed? ]: Val.

[ sent you a letter? ]: An actual letter? Hells... my mother before I died? Email's easier, that's one of the architects.

[ you sent a letter to? ]: If I go email, then the same architect, if I go actual letter, I don't know, someone in life.

[ you laughed with? ]: Hellaina.

[ slept in your bed? ]: Me.

[ you shared a drink with? ]: If I need to drink for it to count, with a couple of people in 1955, if not, probably Val.

[ you went to the movies with? ]: It was a premier, so Hellaina and what sometimes seems like half my staff.

[ yelled at you? ]: An unhappy client.

[ you called? ]: Katie Killjoy.

[ you kicked? ]: Uh... ("Was it that guy from the last hostile takeover?") Yeah, I think. So nameless goon whatever.

[ you saw? ]: ("I'm still right here.")

W H O . I S ?

[ the most handsome person you know? ]: Val probably won't read this, right? Because it's not him, it's Angel Dust.

[ the weirdest person you know? ]: Velvette.

[ the funniest person you know? ]: Also probably Vel.

[ the loudest person you know? ]: That one harpy actress, she's awful.

[ the quietest person you know? ]: I don't know a lot of 'quiet' people, but maybe Adelard.

[ the sweetest person you know? ]: Adelard. Not a lot of sweet people left down here.

[ the most serious person you know? ]: ("It's you.") Nah, it's... not Alastor. Shit, is it me?

[ your best friend? ]: We covered this.

[ the person you hate the most? ]: Alastor. ("Are you certain there?") ...no, you're right, he's too fun to mess with. My former co-worker and producer for the few people old enough to know that reference.

[ the person you see most? ]: To Val's chagrin, Hellaina.

[ your soul-mate? ]: There is nothing but laughter heard for several minutes from both Vox and Hellaina.

W H A T . I S ?

[ the first thing you thought of when you woke up? ]: It's too early for this nonsense.

[ the song that best describes you? ]: [Nothing but a shit-eating grin as he presses his phone and Video Killed the Radio Star starts to play].

[ your best feature? ]: If you say smile I'll demote you. ("No you won't".) My sense of style.

[ your most treasured memory? ]: .........uh. Hellaina's wedding.

I N . T H E . F U T U R E

[ what is the age you hope to get married? ]: It hasn't happened yet so sometime after 100.

[ number and names of kids? ]: Not much of an option down here.

[ where do you see yourself at age twenty? ]: Fucking hell, that was a long time ago.

[ describe your dream wedding? ]: I don't know. To someone I love?

[ when and how do you want to die? ]: Not the way I did, I can say that for certain.

[ what are your career plans? ]: ("Ruler of Hell.") Don't be ridiculous, just... what isn't a heretical answer? I've already gotten as far as I pictured.

[ some place you’d like to visit? ]: Is 'not on Pride when the Exterminators come' a viable option?

L A S T . T I M E

[ last time you went out of state? ]: 1955 when I fell down here, because even counting Pride, I've never left.

[ last time you were outside? ]: Uh... three days? Most things just require going up and down the building.

[ last time you had a snowball fight? ]: I don't even know. Some time before I moved to New York.

[ last time you were listening to music? ]: [Pans back to the song still playing].

O T H E R

[ how many people would you say are good friends of yours? ]: "Four," ("Three,") Yes, thank you Hellaina, I do know your opinion on Val.

[ what hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? ]: What idiot says physical? That can be great in the right circumstance. ("Is the right circumstance after winning a fight with the Radio Demon?") Oh yeah, for sure.

[ have you felt this recently? ]: Of course not. Believe me.

[ what do you wear to bed? ]: Sweatpants.

[ when’s the last time you slept with a stuffed animal? ]: Oh fuck that was a long time ago. I was… 7 maybe? 8?

have you ever used a ouija board? ]: Once in university.

[ how many rings before you pick up the phone? ]: That is entirely dependent on who is calling. Velvette I tend to pick up quickly, unhappy directors go to voicemail.

#*personnel file (hc)#*cathode rays and rock and roll (vincent price)

1 note · View note

baekhvuns · 2 years

Note

Yeah I'm grocery shopping and almost doing the choreography lsususidhisjs embarrassing luv.

I think perhaps kpop stans hate it because at some point almost everyone was doing tropical house? Now many fans hate on EDM, girl crush, 80s etc. But I like some summer tropical house bops!Tbh when I saw Hwa I thought he would be rather serious, then he turned out shy THEN THRUSTED IN MY FACE?! I was so baffled 🥴

I say if you wanna throw insults be creative and funny about it, most antis are either vile or plainly boring 🥱

Yes they absolutely try to fit the mains into the basic personas, but they often turn out irrelevant to most people and they can't even be relatable. The fake badass ones are embarrassing too it's true absolutely pick mes and we don't stan that 🤚🏻

When may I expect you? I will have to lock my merch first jsydyqhshshsja, but I also need to ask tiny if she's taking visitors now, girl is busy hiding under the bed lol

Winter in most places looks like shit LITERALLY so much mud when it rains and snows and for what? And you can see dogs (or perhaps human) piss traces on the snow??? Fucking gross, some dog owners also think "oh there's snow, no need to clean the shit" 🔫🔫🔫

Wait, bestie that broadcast photocard is the fanmade one I ordered from Etsy, I got all of them because no one would sell broadcast pcs for that cheap, now they're out of stock so I'm glad I did 😭 that seller had many different "broadcast" sets and I got them all. But they look so real like I said, almost identical to the actual ones! https://imgur.com/a/YKpHXvK

I'm gonna make an account solely dedicated to Hwa's legs and what about it 🤗

Ok I'm gonna check that manhwa out, but I need to finally catch up on the ones I started, idk why it's so hard for me recently

Hsusyehsha that Jackson party question, NCT's lyrics traumatised me, thanxx. I got MR. GENTLEMAN and it's a photo of my gentle sexy man Joshua lolol this is not me at all, but cute. And you?

Btw, my waiting fic list includes: nerd Hwa, milf reader and of course villain reader. Am I missing anything? Probably lolol. So we spoke about reversed AU like bad girl Y/N x good boy Hwa, but what about bad girl Y/N x bad boy Hwa 🤯 I don't really see it too often. I know the relationship can easily become toxic I read one fic that was absolutely excellent at it, two rich kids acting tough and another that was rather heartbreaking because both characters struggled with life. But I think this has a great potential, just saaaayyyyyyin

THE FIRST PHOTO AAAAAAA HE'S A SMALL BOY A TINY BOOOOOOOOOOY, the second one let's not talk about https://twitter.com/PSHsource/status/1531305919627288577?t=9MjWzWpcyOxNcdO32YOVBw&s=19 - DV 💖

helLo hello!!!

Yeah I'm grocery shopping and almost doing the choreography lsususidhisjs embarrassing luv.

FBWKDHWK BULNORIYA IN THE GROCERY STORE 😭😭😭

i think most hate ur bc of kard 💀💀 bc their title tracks were consistently the exact same and the way ppl were going @ them,,, YEAAH MANY HATE EDM??? but its literally so good,, ppl have very specific taste but they say they have a diverse taste at the same time have me 🔫🔫 BRKWHDKWFHWK THRUSTED IN MY FACE LMFAOOOOTBWKFHEK its exactly how every shinestar was born 😭😭😭

I say if you wanna throw insults be creative and funny about it, most antis are either vile or plainly boring 🥱

NO FRRRR CREATIVE INSULTS ARE IMPRESSIVE I WONT EVEN BE MAD ANYMORE IF BE CLAPPING

yEAAAH the hit or miss formula is always most certainly a miss 😭😭 NO BC THE FAKE BADASS CONSISTS OFF swearing unnecessarily, smoking heavily, dressing in black fits bc “dark like my soul” or the “comebacks” they have to certain insults is so embarrassingfbwkfhdk

When may I expect you? I will have to lock my merch first jsydyqhshshsja, but I also need to ask tiny if she's taking visitors now, girl is busy hiding under the bed lol

EXPECT ME IN TWO DAYS I WILL HUNT THE PC COLLECTION,,, omg 😭😭😭 miss tiny pls gimme an appointment to behold ur presence 😭😭😭🤲🏼

NO BC SO MF TRUE??? THE PEE STAINS AND THE MUDDY SLUSHY BLACK ICE SNOW GIVES ME THE CREEPS IVE FELL DOWN SO MANY TIMES I HATE IT,,, the pee stains, shit stains and the garbage they leave under the snow

IS IT FJWKFJKWFHLW SCREAMING THEY LOOK SO REAL AT FIRST I THOUGHT IT WAS POB’S NFBWM NO BC if the fake ones look exactly like the real,,, then why spend 200$+ 👁👄👁🤚🏼

I'm gonna make an account solely dedicated to Hwa's legs and what about it 🤗

FBWKDHWK @ ME IN EVERY SINGLE POST

Ok I'm gonna check that manhwa out, but I need to finally catch up on the ones I started, idk why it's so hard for me recently

i have been avoiding the webtoon app like a plague i have not looked at it its just so much work jvbwkfhwk

Hsusyehsha that Jackson party question, NCT's lyrics traumatised me, thanxx. I got MR. GENTLEMAN and it's a photo of my gentle sexy man Joshua lolol this is not me at all, but cute. And you?

LMFAOOOO THWMHD THE QUESTIONS WERE SO FUNNY AND THE OPTIONS WERE EVEN FUNNIER 😭😭😭 MR GENTLEMAN OKAY HELLO HELLO 🤚🏼🤚🏼

IM RLY ROOTING FOR THAT VILLAIN READER SO BAD !!! also the wedding etl !!! i am absolutely so in love with the idea of it <3 also the bridgerton san + mingi’s rewrite 😭😭 OLAY HELLO AYO AYO AYO I LIKE THAT MUCH BETTER BAD BOY YN X BAD BOY HWA but its def bard to come up with that plot,,, bc they can either be like rivals or enemies or like secret alliances or like secret relationships??? it’ll def be tough to come up with a plot,,, OH GOD THAT FIC SOUNDS SO GOOD PLS DO SEND IT MY WAY

THE FIRST PHOTO AAAAAAA HE'S A SMALL BOY A TINY BOOOOOOOOOOY, the second one let's not talk about https://twitter.com/PSHsource/status/1531305919627288577?t=9MjWzWpcyOxNcdO32YOVBw&s=19 - DV 💖

FHWMDJWKFHWK TINY BOYYY IDK WHY I JUST SEE U YELLING IT IN THE GROCERY STORE 😭😭😭😭

the way i inhaled at that photo set. do not approach me. i am. livid. hOW DARE U.

yes

ANON IM YELLING IM YELLING IM YELLING

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

1 note · View note

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Batfam Among Us Headcanons

I just got a 97.5 on my psych final and I am going to ride that high as long as I can so have some fluff

The world’s greatest detectives are extra okay and of course this transfers into how they play games together

They all arrange desks in one of the guest rooms and set up those testing folders to hide their screens

Bruce bought extra computers just for playing among us, they have about fifty just stacked in the middle of the room in case

They used to use their personal computers but they haven’t since The IncidentTM

(The Incident was when Tim killed Damian for the fifth time that night and Damian nearly strangled him with a computer charger... while it was still attached to a computer... and it fell off the desk and died)

(They also started having assigned seats after that, with Tim and Damian on opposite sides of the circle, but that’s just a coincidence, right?)

Dick

“I’m just happy to spend time with you guys”

It sounds like a lie but he genuinely is just happy to have family time, he’s been suggesting it for years

Who knew all it would take was a murder mystery game with little bean people

Too bad he’s so awful at it

Smiles a lot more when he’s imposter

Sometimes giggles a little when he commits a murder

Everyone is lowkey concerned with how much he’s enjoying killing them

But they don’t think about that or mention it because J’ACCUSE!

He insists it’s part of his strategy and that he does it on purpose

Longest long con in the history of gaming

It’s still going, even

…

(It’s not on purpose)

Jason

“If Bruce is the first one dead it’s Jason”

It makes him very easy to frame

But by god will he continue to do it

Problem is, after a while it became impossible to know if it was him or someone framing him again

And he doesn’t make it easy to figure out

This man hasn’t given a straight answer in his life

“Did you kill him” “No. Yes. Maybe. But I’m gonna say no.”

“What was I doing? Tasks, duh. Where? Places.”

They lowkey hate him

Babs

Originally didn’t play

But eventually wanted to know what the fuss was about

Is now addicted

Even plays when the rest of the family isn’t there

She really only likes the tasks, though

The fact that there’s a murderer on the ship is irrelevant

It’s really obvious when she’s just been killed (at least by bat standards) because she goes “oh”

And then she goes straight back to tasks

Absolutely throws the game when she’s imposter

“Was it you?” “Maybe but have you considered that he deserved it”

Tim

He has made it his mission to figure out who the imposters are every round

Throws accusations everywhere no matter what, he figures he has to be right at some point

His points are all valid but he has trouble giving an actually convincing argument

Trust him guys he knows what he’s saying you’re just s t u p i d

“When I get communication skills it’s over for all of you!”

He does not, in fact, ever get communication skills

When he’s the imposter though…

He also tries to keep up the constant accusations

The reasoning is worse when he’s imposter

But that’s okay because no one understands what he’s saying either way

Kills and then hides in the vents for the rest of the round

They try and stack on vents to catch him out

He always knows

A l w a y s

Steph

She doesn’t care who gets mad at her, she is going to win this if it’s the last thing she does

And what’s her strategy to do so?

She doesn’t really have one

But it’s working

She’s so bold that most the time she stuns people into silence

Blatant lies all around

Will self report and lie her ass off

Will kill in a crowd of people

Will lie and say she was with you even if you only saw her for a few seconds

No one knows when she’s telling the truth

They don’t even know if SHE knows if she’s telling the truth because she is so confident about it

Cass

Isn’t allowed to play

She was allowed to for One Round

The screen comes up and she just says “It’s Bruce and Tim”

It was, in fact, Bruce and Tim

They were not happy with this

Now she sits in the corner and watches them all

It’s a little bit creepy but it’s better than her spoiling the game sooooo

Damian

Plays third imposter when Dick is imposter

Dick will find him alone and run around him in a circle and then off they go

This is never reciprocated

And yet Damian is always shocked when Dick turns him in

Always gets angry when he gets accused

Everyone loves throwing him under the bus

Do they usually think it’s him? No. Are they going to vote for him anyways to watch him get all pouty and whiney? Yes. Absolutely

What else are siblings for?

“I will kill you all!” “That sounds like something an imposter would say” “Not like that!” “That sounds like something an imposter would say”

Duke

Definitely just there to watch them all fight

If this was a few years ago he would have suggested monopoly

He wants to watch the world as we know it burn

But no one ever suspects him of it

They just think he’s too nice

You’d think they’d learn their lesson eventually but this family only has one braincell collectively and, unfortunately, Cass isn’t allowed to play

Sometimes Duke will literally walk away from a body and they won’t even try to throw sus on him

“Duke was standing over a body on cams” “That sounds like something an imposter would --”

Bruce

He takes red so Jason and Tim don’t fight over it

He usually figures out who the imposters are pretty quickly

Too bad he’s always killed first round

“If B makes it to second round it’s him”

That’s okay. He doesn’t like the game anyways

Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself

Whatever helps him sleep at night, I guess

1K notes · View notes

une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

Text

random thoughts about aegon vi and septa lemore

Apparently, it’s Aegon’s week. i don’t think i ever paticipated in these events for any character or pairing, but @agentrouka-blog’s theory that septa Lemore is Ashara Dayne and that the baby switch was between Aegon and her rumoured child (instead of random kid) showed up on my dash today.

Lemore being Ashara Dayne and there having been baby switch like theorised would be fantastic, because she’d know a lot of stuff that is otherwise impossible to know. She knows who dishonoured her at Harrenhal (we all know Brandon, not Ned). She knows about Wylla, a wetnurse from the Dayne Household, who Eddard Stark and Edric Dayne both say is Jon’s mother (we all know Jon is Lyanna’s, so this apparent lie version being told by two different people who have nothing to do with one another seems to suggest a combined lie between Ned and the Daynes). She knows about Jon because Ned went to Starfall with him and (if baby switch theory is true), she can confirm Aegon VI is real.

There’s also the suspicious narrative choice of a “Targ” (not even, she has dark hair, not silver hair, even if she has purple eyes) getting with an impetuous Stark at Harrenhal and a secret child never really going anywhere. What’s the point of that besides shading Rhaegar plus Lyanna equals Jon? This I always thought was suspicious, but this theory would *poof* make it make sense.

TYRION III ~ ADWD

This is the chapter where Aegon VI Targaryen is first introduced. The whole chapter is like a “perigrination” to find him. I am of the opinion that Aegon VI is the real thing for a long time now and there’s evidence that might be the case in this very chapter where he’s introduced.

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps. Duck shifted them easily enough, hoisting them on one shoulder.

This is shortly after the chapter starts. Not only Illyrio asks about Aegon, there’s also the imagery of six chests about. If Aegon is crowned king of Westeros, he’ll be Aegon VI Targaryen.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad.

This is often used as a clue that Aegon VI is fake. Illyrio is expressing some sentimental attachment, so there are theories that he could be the father and the mother would be some Valyrian looking wife he has. it has its merits.

On the other hand, Aegon VI is on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes his hair another colour, but most importantly in this passage, is Aegon’s fond of a specific sweet that what we would at first mistake for a father for the reasons pointed above gifts him with.

This is 1:1 what’s going on with Sansa, she’s on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes her hair another colour, she’s fond of a specific sweet (lemoncakes) and Littlefinger, who’s pretending to be her father and is very... emotionally invested... in her, gifts her with some (well, in parternship with her cousin, but the cousin is another matter).

By parallel, Aegon is real.++

Tyrion craned his head to one side, and saw a boy standing on the roof of a low wooden building, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair.

Aegon is inrroduced standing above the rest, literally high-standing.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

An older couple with a Rhoynish cast to their features stood close beside the tiller, whilst a handsome septa in a soft white robe stepped through the cabin door and pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes.

This is actually what I came for, Lemore.

Why a septa would be described as “handsome” when that should have no relevance since she’s supposed to be chaste (I know, it’s Tyrion, but still)? Ashara Dayne is described by many as being beautiful, arrestingly so. If Lemore is Ashara, “handsome” is a good way to describe her beauty still.

Lemore has dark brown hair. Ashara is described as having long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders. More importantly, Lemore's first actions is push her hair from her eyes. Like, pay attention to this woman’s eyes, even though they’re not described ever (not even their colour).

TYRION IV ~ ADWD

Tyrion had drunk himself blind his first night on the Shy Maid. The next day he awoke with dragons fighting in his skull.

So yes, the night after Tyrion meets Aegon and his party for the first time, he dreams of dragons fighting. Take note these are dragons, not a fake dragon in whatever way and a dragon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

The clouds in the sky were aglow: pink and purple, maroon and gold, pearl and saffron. One looked like a dragon. Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author's name. Dragons had been much in his thoughts of late.

One of those clouds looks like a dragon. There’s no dragons with these colours BUT Targs have purple eyes and Viseryion, a dragon I believe is a narrative stand-in for Aegon VI, is described as cream and gold, so one colour here. Honestly, the important here is that Tyrion is associating dragons around Aegon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

"Good morrow, Hugor." Septa Lemore had emerged in her white robes, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of seven colors. Her hair flowed loose about her shoulders. "How did you sleep?"

Holy shit.

“Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes.

"Fitfully, good lady. I dreamed of you again." A waking dream. He could not sleep, so he had eased a hand between his legs and imagined the septa atop him, breasts bouncing.

"A wicked dream, no doubt. You are a wicked man. Will you pray with me and ask forgiveness for your sins?"

Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles. "No, but do give the Maiden a long, sweet kiss for me."

Laughing, the septa walked to the prow of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning.

"Plainly, this boat was not named for you," Tyrion called as she disrobed.

"The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods."

Yeah, it’s Tyrion, who’d sexualise a rock, but this is a septa who deserves respect. Yet, this is how the writer “paints” the reader’s first interaction with this new character. These are always the most striking moments when establishing a character and sex imagery is what the writer decided to do.

Also Lemore not only knows that Tyrion’s fantasising about having sex with her and doesn’t give a shit, she laughs instead, gets naked to bathe, and doesn’t give a shit if others look at her naked body. This doesn’t feel like a septa. I mean, I remember Mordane and the zealots at King’s Landing who screwed with Cersei. They have nothing on this.

The way she puts why she has no problems with naked bodies and the like also suggest some kind of “free spirit” which goes well with the (disgusting, but there) dornish wanton woman trope and being dishonoured by Brandon at Harrenhal.

Another thing to note, is that Tyrion also clearly says the “Shy Maid” wasn’t named after Lemore, which suggests she’s neither shy nor a maid. This is confirmed by her actions and by...

The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth.

Lemore was pregnant at one point!

When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored the sight of water trickling between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided. It made him feel as if he was still alive. "Did you see the turtle, Hugor?" the septa asked him, wringing water from her hair. "The big ridgeback?"

This disparity of behaviour between septa Lemore and any other septa in ASOIAF is VERY suspicious. Note how Lemore has two mysteries about her already, she’s characterised nothing like any septa in ASOIAF (more like the tasteless “dornish wanton woman” sterotype instead) and a mystery child. What’s the point of that, if she’s irrelevant.

Compare how he Yandry and Ysilla couple is treated, where there are no bizarre things taking place that I noticed. Also Yandry and Ysilla are specifically said to be a pair of Dornish orphans. Why is the image of Dornish people here, along with Lemore? Suspicious, suspicious.

Lemore is “past fourty”. The asoiaf wiki lists Ashara Dayne as being born between 260AC and 269AC, which means that she’d be around this age if she had lived.

The imagery of a (false, but still) maidtaking a bath while men watch is the same as Florian and Jonquil song, an event that legend says happened at Maidenpool (close to... yes, that’s right, Harrenhal, where Ashara met Brandon).

"The turtles have their charms, I will allow. Nothing delights me so much as the sight of a nice pair of shapely … shells.

"Septa Lemore laughed. Like everyone else aboard the Shy Maid, she had her secrets. She was welcome to them. I do not want to know her, I only want to fuck her. She knew it too. As she hung her septa's crystal about her neck, to nestle in the cleft between her breasts, she teased him with a smile.

That’s not the behaviour of a septa and note the narrative acknowledgement that Lemore has secrets. She’s also called Lady instead of septa at some point in the narrative.

If this is Ashara, then Brandon met his match at Harrenhal. The waste, I can’t. What a sexy couple.

This chapter also contains Targ history as well as some Dorne (mother Rhoyne and whatnot). It goes well with Aegon is the real deal. But what really cinches it is the ending...

"It was him," cried Yandry. "The Old Man of the River."And why not?

Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

The Old Man of the River is a lesser god, the son of Mother Rhoyne. These gods are all associated with Dorne.

Aegon is real.++.

Tyrion VI ~ ADWD

"Even the bravest of your forebears kept his Kingsguard close about him in times of peril." Lemore had changed out of her septa's robes into garb more befitting the wife or daughter of a prosperous merchant. Tyrion watched her closely. He had sniffed out the truth beneath the dyed blue hair of Griff and Young Griff easily enough, and Yandry and Ysilla seemed to be no more than they claimed to be, whilst Duck was somewhat less. Lemore, though … Who is she, really? Why is she here? Not for gold, I'd judge. What is this prince to her? Was she ever a true septa?

Who is she, really... indeed... Lemore’s identity clearly is important.

She turned back to Prince Aegon. "You are not the only one who must needs hide."

Why does Lemore need to hide? :)

#asoiaf speculaion #i'm not going to tag these characters because the original theory isn't mine #i'm also not going to tag these characters because this isn't enough to warrant an entry on aegon vi targaryen week

173 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

disconnected

— Kirishima answers a phone call that wasn’t intended for him, and of course he can’t help but be interested in the beautiful voice and soul that angrily began to rant about their day. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, lil angst (lol sorry), cursing

word count: 7,786

a/n: this was a stupid thought that slammed into my mind, and here it is!!!! now I have a calc midterm tomorrow that I did not look at because why think about double derivatives and integrals when I can think about kirishima????

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was eleven at night when Kirishima strolled out of his bathroom, ready to go to bed. After a rather long day, he was looking forward to sleeping and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn. Tomorrow for the very first day in a very long time, he wouldn’t have to work at the local coffee shop he was hired at. It was a job he had acquired with his good friends on the promise of it being a manageable job on top of his college work, and of course, the pretty girls who would go in.

From what Kirishima had gathered from the four months working there was that there were a lot of pretty girls who entered the coffee shop — most of which were focused on the angry ash-blond friend of his — and that it was so unnecessarily stressful.

Some days he was up at four in the morning to open at six for the morning regulars, then he’d go to his afternoon classes, only to return for a two-hour shift in the middle of rush hour, and would leave while trying to keep the peace between a certain ash-blond and two new hires. To say the least, it was hell on Earth at times.

Regardless, he didn’t have to open tomorrow morning, so he was content! On top of not having classes tomorrow, Kirishima was excited to sleep in.

Falling on his bed with a massive sigh, Kirishima snuggled his face into his pillow, rejoicing in the way that the laundry detergent still clung to the fabric and relaxed.

Sleep sounded so—

RIIING.

Kirishima’s eyes slammed open, his head snapping to see his illuminating phone on his nightstand. He had no idea who the hell was calling this late. There was no way it was Bakugou; he was asleep already at this point. Sero had broken his phone two days ago during a failed stunt and wouldn’t be able to get a new phone until the weekend. Kaminari only called him when there was a bug in his apartment, but he was currently closing… maybe it was Mina? Kirishima shook his head, no, he hadn’t spoken to Mina in ages.

Grabbing the phone, he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID and answered.

“Hello—?”

“Oh my god, I am fucking raging! You can’t believe what kind of fuckery I just went through tonight!” a voice shouted into the receiver, and Kirishima flinched a bit at the loud and angry voice. “So you know how I wasn’t supposed to work today, right? Because my coworker had sex with her ex-boyfriend like an idiot, and I owed her for covering my shift three months ago, but anyways irrelevant. I’m taking the order of this one group of adults. That’s right, A-D-U-L-T-S, adults! They are completely staring at my tits the entire time, and not my face. At first, I thought maybe you know, I had spilled something on my tits earlier, no. No! NOTHING! So I call them out on it, and they say something along the lines of ‘you could be a camgirl with that body, but like not in a sex sort of way’ I’m sorry, WHAT?! Like yes, continue sexually harassing your server who is a college student and therefore has no will to live, so will gladly beat your Gucci belt wearing ass into a bloody pulp! What they gonna do? Sue me? I have one dollar to my name, fucking take it, I don’t care, I’ll find another dollar in the sewer after I beat their asses up!

“But you know, I’m saying all this in my head because I’m broke and can’t afford to be fired from this place because the tips are hella good here. But they continue saying dumb shit, and then the obvious ringleader — I know he was the ring leader because his beard looks like it was the first picture printed on a new ink cartridge and his manspread was ten times wider than all of theirs — have the fucking audacity to slip his number while only tipping TEN DOLLARS ON A TWO HUNDRED DOLLAR TAB!!!!” Kirishima doesn’t know what to say, his jaw on his mattress, breathing having stopped while your voice wheezes from your lack of air. He makes a croaking noise, wanting to speak up and apologize for what had happened and for not being the person you thought it was, but it seemed that you weren’t over. “AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING KAREN!!! ‘I didn’t like the way you looked at me so I won’t be tipping you tonight!’ yeah, well maybe if you didn’t order enough FOOD TO FEED AN ARMY AND KEPT SENDING IT BACK I WOULDN’T BE LOOKING AT YOU LIKE THAT!!!”

There was a pause, and Kirishima, while feeling entirely sorry for you, finally spoke, “Fuck, that sounds... horrible.”

“Damn right, it was horri— wait, who the fuck is this?” your voice squeaked, and Kirishima almost started to laugh at the difference in the tone your voice took. Once so loud, angry, and entirely ‘fuck the world,’ had changed into a meek and embarrassed voice.

“Um, this is Kirishima. Kirishima Eijiriou?”

“This isn’t Hagakure?” you moaned into the phone. “03-9082-2395? That isn’t this number?”

“2-2-9-5,” Kirishima repeated his own number back, a small smile overcame his features knowing that you had accidentally misdialed a number.

“Fuck my fat fingers,” you cursed, and Kirishima chuckled lightly at the mutterings that were poorly picked up. “Well, um, I am so sorry for calling you and dumping that unnecessary bullshit on you—”

“No, no,” Kirishima interrupted, rolling onto his back, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. “It’s totally okay! You seem less stressed out now too, and it really isn’t a big deal!”

“You are very kind, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, and Kirishima can’t help but imagine a figure curled up on a couch.

“Thank you!” he beamed, a hand threading through his hair, “um, but what happened with the Karen? And why were you typing in your friend’s phone number?”

“Do you really want to know?” you ask after a fit of bubbling laughter; it seemed that you were not at all convinced.

“I work at a coffee shop for one, so I totally understand the Karen situations! Secondly, all my contacts are on my phone, I don’t have a single one of them memorized!”

“Okay, okay, okay, I do not have this number memorized! Hagakure is my roommate, and she has a new number that she left posted on our fridge and because Mr. Sprinkles left in the middle of my rant, I called her to finish it!” you explain in what Kirishima could only consider being childlike glee. “And a coffee shop? Oof, Kirishima, you might have it just as bad as I do then.”

“Ever had a boiling cup of coffee thrown back at your face?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I wish I was joking!”

“The nastiest thing I’ve ever been put through is a highschool couple breaking up in the middle of the restaurant, and a bowl of cold soup and milkshake were thrown at me! And I had to work for another five hours!”

“That… that beat mine by a long shot…”

“Okay, but like, it was cold. If you hadn’t dodged, you’d be dead!”

As time passed Kirishima soon found himself sitting up on his bed, his back pressed against the headboard, a lamp on so that he wasn’t in the dark while he talked to you. Somehow conversation flowed so perfectly between the two of you, so smoothly, so naturally. You had extremely compelling energy and a pretty bright one at that as well. Your stories were exceedingly extravagant, most derailing into hundreds of side stories before making its way back to the main point, but he didn’t mind. Though there was no proof, he imagined that your arms were swinging around while you talked, a bright smile on your face, and lights shining in your eyes.

“So anyway, I had to beg my professor to let me remake this exam because, for some reason, my brain would not switch back to Japanese. I almost cried because I was only speaking in English, and I think because I am an amazing person, my professor let me do that!” you laughed after explaining an issue with being fluent in a third language.

“My English skills deteriorated after leaving high school, I’m rather jealous you can speak three languages,” Kirishima admitted, his head falling back onto the cold wall. “My Japanese professors probably think my Japanese sucks too.”

“Just because I am amazing and can speak three languages doesn’t mean I’m perfect at it,” you laugh, obviously trying to make him feel better about himself.

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re painting yourself as a pretty perfect person,” Kirishima sighed. “Or you have an enormous ego…”

A loud scoff came from your end of the phone, and Kirishima waited for your verbal retaliation but was met with a moment of silence.

“Oh! Welcome home!” you called out, and Kirishima quickly put together that your roommate Hagakure was home. “Yeah, no, I’m talking to someone right now! ...who? Oh, um, a friend! ...no, I tried to call you when I got home but misdialed your number and got him instead! NO! You’re not going to get a pic of him! Wait, it’s what time?!”

Kirishima’s eyes fell over to his alarm clock and saw in the dim red light that it was 04:57.

His jaw dropped.

“Well, um, Kirishima, it seems that our call is going to end,” you whisper into the phone, and Kirishima lets out a breathless chuckle, sudden sleepiness creeping into him. “It was pretty fun chatting with you stranger, thanks for putting up with that ranting in the beginning! Most normal people wouldn’t have picked up or let me rant like that!”

“It’s no problem,” Kirishima smiled softly, his fingers stretching out to turn off the light. He licked his lips, five hours on a phone call with an absolute stranger, and he didn’t have your name, and better yet, a part of him wanted to ask if it was okay to be friends. You were magnetic to him, and he wanted to know more about you, even if this was this weird modern and accidental penpal thing. “I didn’t have anything to do today, and you were fun talking to!”

“Aww, thank you!”

Silence.

Ask, he thought, his teeth biting down onto his bottom lip. Ask!

“Um, I know this is weird and all, but do you think I can keep your number?” you ask, your voice almost timid and meek.

Kirishima’s heart rate spikes at those words, he very much wanted that, but his mouth had a mind of its own it seemed. “Why?”

“Wha— well, I just had a lot of fun talking with you! It was fun, and I don’t know, you seem like a pretty chill guy!”

His fingers gripped his phone, a warmth spreading through him when he relaxed under his sheets. “On one condition.”

“Oof, if you’re going to ask to decide between Crimson Riot or All Might you’re going to be—”

“No, no,” Kirishima lets out a snort, his shoulders rolling while he imagines the curious look coming over your face. “I would like to know your name?”

“My name? Why would you want— HOLY SHIT! I never gave you—” there was a loud noise on your end of the call, and Kirishima heard you apologize profusely before returning in a hushed whisper. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t give you my name?!”

“No,” he laughed loudly, one that was pushed from his belly, spreading warmth through his body. “You never did, but I did learn every name of every person you’ve ever talked with!”

“God,” you groan, a small whine emitted from you. “I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry! Y/l/n y/n at your service!”

Y/l/n y/n, that’s a pretty name, he thought while imagining just what you could look like.

“Well, goodnight y/l/n, I’ll save your number, and we’ll see if you still would like to be friends when you wake up?”

There was a small noise of agreement, “I’m like a drug, Kirishima, you’ll be back for more.”

“Okay, okay, goodnight…”

“Goodnight, sweet dreams!”

“Sweet dreams.”

Kirishima listened to the line ending, and he pulled his phone away from his ear and no sooner did he do that, a text came in at what he believed to be your number:

don’t let the bed bugs bite! 🕷😱‼️

He snorted and replied back before eventually letting sleep consume him.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“You’ll never believe what just happened!” you squealed into the phone, and Kirishima laughed while wiping his sweaty face with a white towel. You had called thirty minutes earlier than usual and had caught him leaving the gym.

It had been a bit over two months since your misdial, and things with you had been going pretty well for strangers. The two of you didn’t talk every day, most weeks going by with just a single call, but they were always delightful talks. You worked most nights, and he most mornings, the two of you discovered. So most calls took place the night he didn’t have to work the following morning.

“You got a customer who complained that there was too much salt in their meal that had no salt in it?” he asked, pulling a random story of something that had happened at his own coffee shop today. You let out an amused snort, a clear indicator that he was wrong, but found his guess to be amusing at the very least.

“No, but oddly enough, someone did ask for an insane amount of salt on their food and hated it!” you sang, clearly happy with how you found their distress to be funny.

“Close enough!” Kirishima laughed, but he was straight out of guesses, so he stopped. “So, what happened?”

“I tried coffee for the first time ever today!” you squealed loudly, and Kirishima cheered happily.

Through these two months, there were some hard facts that Kirishima had learned about you. One, you were living in the same city as him. Two, you worked at a semi-classy restaurant. Three, you had two roommates named Hagakure and Jirou. Four, you were twenty, just like him. And five, you were a child who only drank hot chocolate and tea because you were afraid of coffee.

“Caffeine is a drug you know,” you had snarkily teased him one night when he said he was going to make a cup of coffee. “Nice to know I’m friends with an addict!”

“If drugs were as amazing as coffee, I’d be an addict!”

“You know…” your voice whispered, your voice suddenly taking a guilty approach. “I’ve never actually tried coffee…”

“WHAT?!”

“Wow, look at you, becoming an old woman in front of my own eyes!” Kirishima chuckled, starting his walk back home.

His fingers pushed the headphones to be more secure over his ears, hopeful that there it wouldn’t pick up too heavily on the wind of the outside world.

“To be honest, it wasn’t that good, your taste buds are just tarnished from drinking that bitter crap all day!” you huff and he half imagined you turning your nose up.

“Okay, okay,” Kirishima laughed, a warmth flooding in his chest at the sounds of your muffled laughter. A visible indicator that you were also amused at this. “I hated coffee until I started working at a coffee shop, and that was because I needed to know my shit.”

“Wow, you only got that job while not being a coffee addict?” you tease. “Seems like a fake barista to me.”

“It’s pretty hard to believe, I know,” Kirishima stated his tone one of fake melancholy. “I’m so sorry for deceiving you, and honestly, I am a shit barista.”

“Aww, don’t say that!” you exclaim, and it seems like you’re ready to fight him. “I bet you put all those fancy TikTok baristas to shame!”

“TikTok?” he laughed, his pace speeding up just a bit so he would get home faster. “Wow, I am honored you think that!”

The light conversation continued, nothing too deep or too intense, just chatter about today's shifts and classes. Eventually, Kirishima made it back into his apartment complex, and stumbled into his room, collapsing onto his bed.

“Can I ask something?” you ask suddenly, and Kirishima lets out a small hum.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

“What do you look like?” you asked softly as if you were curled up in bed, seconds from letting sleep consume you. “I haven’t come up with a mental image that I like, and well, I want some hints.”

“I can just send you a picture of me,” Kirishima smiles, his eyes closing. “It would be much easier than me trying to explain to you what I look like.”

“No!” you disagree, and there's a long sigh from your end of the phone. “I’m not ready for that kind of information yet, Kiri. I just… I can’t accept a pic of you without sending one back, and I’m not mentally ready for that yet…”

“Don’t tell me the big fat Gucci bougie you is shy?!” Kirishima exclaimed, humor drowning his words as he referenced you to something you had called yourself one drunken night weeks ago.

“Not shy!” you bemoan, your voice muffling out at the end of it. “I’m more scared you’ll find me ugly and ghost me…”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kirishima interjected, his voice stable and confident.

“Which part?”

“Both parts.”

“How do you know that? You don’t know what I look like…”

“...call it… Kirishima’s intuition,” Kirishima slowly stated, his eyebrows furrowing. “I find your voice and your personality to be attractive on their own, so I would never ghost you. And of course, appearance isn’t anything; plus, there’s no way you’re not gorgeous.”

He says these words with honest truth, and a part of him fears he overstepped and made you wildly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that is heard from your end of the line. But finally, as Kirishima is ready to apologize to you, a soft exhale is heard.

“You’re a dork,” you whisper, and a soft grin spreads on his own face. “Anyways, I’ll ask questions, you answer them first, and then I’ll do the same.”

“Sounds good!”

“Hair color?”

“Black, but I dye it red.”

“Mm, edgy teenager, I like it, and also knew that because you complained about your stained sheets! Eye color?”

“Red.”

“Oh, am I sensing a theme? How tall are you?”

“I’m… a bit over six feet?”

The list went on, most questions becoming more of a joke than anything else, but he was glad that you were asking these things because now he had an insight on how you looked too. You had told him your eye color, your hair color, how tall you were, and a whole bunch of trivial things he would have never thought to ask about to begin with.

“Okay, last question!” you cheered, happy to have finally included Kirishima into your inside joke that revolved around your eyebrows. “Do you have any distinguishing features?”

“Well, I don’t actually...” Kirishima admitted, his fingers brushing against the scar on his eye, and then it hit him. That was one! “Oh, wait—” CRASH. A loud crashing noise emitted from your side of the call.

“Shit, hold on!” you curse and Kirishima can only remain silent while he hears you yelling in the background, it was too far away for him to quite understand, but it was enough to know that it didn’t sound okay.

Kirishima sat on his side of the call, the phone pressed to his ear while he tried to strip his gross and sweaty shirt from his body. His teeth bit into his lip, his canine pressing into the permanent indent of his lip, an indicator of how anxious he used to be.

“Fuck, Kiri?” your voice suddenly snapped back onto the call, your tone frantic and quick.

“Everything okay?”

“No, Hagakure showed up drunker than… a drunken drunk, I don’t know expressions, ANYWAYS I know tonight is our unofficial official call night, but anyway I can get a rain check?”

There was guilt that swallowed your voice, a pang of guilt that made Kirishima warm a bit because it showed that you valued these calls, just like him.

“Of course, I don’t have class or work Friday morning this time around, so Thursday night?”

“That works perfectly,” you sigh, gratitude. “I owe you, text you later if you don’t fall asleep! Goodnight, sweet dreams, love ya!”

Kirishima couldn’t repeat the whole statement before you hastily hung up, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face the entire time he showered. The shower didn’t take too long, and by the time he emerged from the shower, towel around his neck and his waist, he had a text message.

sero - hey bro!!! i can’t pick up my morning shift tomorrow i know you have tonight to speak w y/n but todoroki and bakugou can’t cover it!

Kirishima sighed, he definitely didn’t have anything tomorrow anyways, he could manage with going in for an extra shift to help a friend.

kirishima - yeah sure what time?

sero - youre a life saver T-T im covering 8 am - 3 pm!!!

Kirishima sent a simple affirmative emoji before finishing up his nightly routine.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Kirishima looked at his apron while he was assembling himself in the backroom. The aroma of roasted coffee beans and pastries was almost pungent in the back, and he was eager to get out of there. As per employee regulations, he was to wear a black apron, a name tag, and something to hold his hair because it was a bit too long, for that, he wore a white bandana around his forehead.

“Wait, where’s my name tag?” Kirishima called out, his eyebrows furrowing when he turned out to Kaminari, who was currently in the back with him.

The blond froze and scratched the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly, “About that…”

So Kirishima was in the front of the store with a shiny silver name tag that read Hanta Sero. Because Kaminari was the best barista they had on hand currently, he was busy teaching Midoriya — their newest hire — around the bar. For now, Todoroki was nowhere to be found, and Kirishima was handling the cash register.

Today was a slow morning, most people had their day off today, so morning coffee rush wasn’t in existence. Sure, there were a few outliers, but it was never chaotic.

The gentle bell of the front door rang, and Kirishima automatically called out.

“Welcome!”

You had walked into the store, your eyebrows furrowed while you prayed that this was the coffee shop your roommates had been raving about. You’d never been here before, but it was the closest coffee shop available that wasn’t something generic and basic like Starbucks. You looked up from your phone at the voice, a thank you automatically being repeated while you neared the register.

You froze when you saw the red hair and the red eyes of the handsome man at the register. A careless thought entered your mind, Kirishima said he had red hair and red eyes… but he said he didn’t work today…

A kind smile sat on his face, his eyes taking you in, waiting for you to approach him.

This couldn’t be him, right?

The last time you had assumed a redhead working in a coffee shop was Kirishima, it had ended embarrassingly.

“Um, hi,” you drawled out, your eyes reading the board to figure out your own order.

Kirishima couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, you were exactly what you had described to him, but he wouldn’t ask until he was sure. He would ask you for your name after collecting your order for either tea or hot chocolate, and if it was you, he’d reveal that he was Kirishima. But he didn’t want to be wrong; he didn’t want to pin any other person as you, after all.

“I’ve never been here before,” you confess, your hand rubbing the back of your head. You were transfixed on the caramel macchiato that was spelled in the prettiest font, though, plus Hagakure promised all their coffee was good.

“Oh, well, welcome! If you need any recommendations or have anything else to order, I can put those through while you look?”

His smile was kind, and you felt blood rush to your face, something you desperately tried to fight off by thinking of anything you didn’t like.

“Oh! I do have two orders, though! There’s going to be one chai tea latte with three pumps of vanilla, and a lavender tea with a splash of oat milk.”

Kirishima nodded his head, “Will this be for here, or to go?”

His voice sounds so similar to Kirishima, you hoped, studying his face. While you answered that it was to go, you saw a distinctive scar on his right eye. Kirishima had said he didn’t have any distinguishing features…

“What are your favorites here?” you ask, your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, your thoughts very evident in your face.

Kirishima couldn’t help but find hope bubbling up in his chest, there was always the possibility that you two lived in the same city-based off the same area code, and with what seemed like an incomplete knowledge in coffee, maybe…

Kirishima rambled off about the different seasonal drinks right now, his recommendations leaning towards the teas and non-coffee things primarily after his general and basic list. You seemed to take every word out of his lip like gospel, agreeing and nodding when appropriate, and his lips stretched into a grin when you bluntly exclaimed your ill knowledge of this all.

“To be honest, I only step into coffee shops to take a cute pic and then leave,” you laugh, pressing your hands against your lips and screaming a bit in your throat.

Kirishima laughed, more confidence blooming through his body over the hope that this was you. It had to be you.

Your eyes then found the nametag on his apron, and like a sinking ship, you read Sero.

Not Kirishima.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the caramel macchiato,” you decide, a grateful smile on your face while he looks down and writes the orders.

“A name?”

“Penny,” came your automatic response.

You never used your real name in coffee shops.

Kirishima suppressed the way that his mouth wanted to drop into a sad smile, and like two rejected teenagers, the money was exchanged. Before Kirishima could attempt to calm his disappointed soul, you walked out of the shop with the coffees and tea in hand.

“What was that about?” Kaminari asked, his eyes wide. “There was so much flirting and then poof, gone from both sides. Come on, dude, it’s my job to fail at flirting, not yours!”

Kirishima laughed, ignoring the way that his three friends looked at him with concern and curiosity. “Nothing, I just… the customer looked like how y/n described herself to be…”

“Oh… sorry, bro.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Kirishima waved it off, and without so much as another slap on the back, he went back to work.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“What the hell are you doing?”

Kirishima looked up from his phone, his fingers mid-type pausing only for a millisecond before continuing to text blindly.

“Oh, hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” he cheerfully spoke, ignorant to the controller in the ash blond’s hand.

“It’s your turn, shitty hair, pay fucking attention!” Bakugou barked, tossing the plastic controller into his chest. Kirishima grunted, the feeling of the plastic slamming against his chest was less than ideal, but the smile on his face didn’t waiver while he offered his best friend the controller back.

“It’s all good, you can have another turn, I can handle being out this round!”

“Kiri, that’s six rounds in a row,” Kaminari spoke up, his face in a teasing smirk.

It was then that Kirishima’s face turned approximately the same color as his hair. “I didn’t—”

“Awww, Eijirou has a little crush on y/n!!!” Kaminari sang, resulting in agreeing with noises from Sero and Midoriya. Only Bakugou and Todoroki remained silent.

Kirishima only laughed, he knew he couldn’t deny that fact, but he wouldn’t say it aloud — especially because Bakugou seemed to hate you. It had been now four months since the two of you had ‘meet,’ and while he still had no face to imagine you with, things had taken a slightly flirty route between the two of you.

Calls were much more frequent, nearly all nights the two of you would speak, even if it was just a measly summary of the day and a ‘sweet dreams’ and a ‘goodnight’ and an ‘I love you.’ It always happened nowadays.

Tonight was an exception, of course, because he was out with his friends, and apparently, you were doing the same.

“You can’t be fucking serious?” Bakugou spat, a laugh spluttering from his lips, but it was cold and held no humor. “You caught feelings for a person who’s too much of a fucking coward to reveal a picture of themselves?”

“That’s not fair; besides, it's not about physical appearance!” Kirishima waved him off, pressing send to his text message.

have fun tonight! text me when u get back home if ur able to!

“Just how naive can you be?” Bakugou sneered, his hand taking the phone from Kirishima's side. “Six months of talking every week, texting every day, and this y/n still hasn’t trusted you with a single picture of them? I know you said that she told you how she looked, and all that shit, but let's be real, it’s so easy to lie about how you look like when you don’t have to provide a picture. What y/n say? Big tits? Big ass? Small waist? What about her did she say that made you so fucking insane over her?”

“N-Nothing! We didn’t talk about our body types!” Kirishima’s eyes widened significantly, the once comfortable atmosphere of the room wholly gone while Bakugou’s vermillion eyes seethed silently. “None of that matters! I told you the truth! I like y/n because of her personality, she’s manly, and I like that a lot! It’s not about her appearance, how pessimistic can you get, bro! I promise you, she’s trustworthy!”

“Is she really?”

“What?”

“How can you be in love with someone who you trust entirely, but doesn’t trust you at all? You said that y/n won’t show you a picture of herself because she’s scared you won’t like her? How is that trusting you? How is that fucking fair? To me, that sounds like some fucked up catfishing thing.”

“We talk on the phone, dude,” Kirishima said softly, but those thoughts were invading his mind. Did you not trust him? He knew he wasn’t the best option in the world, and he had accepted that in time and by improving on what he thought he was best at. But did you, after all this time, really not believe him when he claimed nothing would change when he saw you? “Catfishes don’t even do that… besides, the first call was by accident, why would someone—”

“Dunce face, what’s that one fucking idiotic thing you do for fun?” Bakugou snapped at the blond, not even bothering to look at him.

“Well, there’s a lot of things I do that you—” Kaminari laughed awkwardly, his smile tight and awkward.

“Kaminari.”

“I call… random numbers… pretending to have a big issue to see how they react…” he admitted, and Kirishima’s stomach clenched.

“And?” Bakugou snarled.

“I pretend to be a girl…”

“Don’t be stupid, Bakugou, this is more than one time!” Kirishima groaned.

“It's a voice that you can’t attach a face to, who knows if this is a person you can trust! People with voice acting exist in this world, how the hell do you possibly know that they’re not one of them?! Be fucking real, if ‘y/n’ trusted you, if that’s even their name, they wouldn’t be hiding their face from you.”

Kirishima didn’t say anything else, the acid piling in his throat was too much for him to even look at his friend. The night didn’t really recover from that conversation, and Kirishima eventually found himself back home.

He sat at the edge of his bed, his phone in his hands, waiting for a message from you. He couldn’t sleep, and even though he had work tomorrow morning, he found himself wide awake, unable to let sleep consume.

It was three in the morning when you sent a text, his eyes still wide awake, and with shaky fingers, he read the message.

i just got home can you believe that i drank three cups of wine and didnt get tipsy??????? thats on being a raging alcoholic ;D

Kirishima wanted to laugh; on god, he would’ve found this beyond delightful to read because he knew you couldn’t handle your liquor, but that bitter stream of acid destroyed the humor in his thoughts.

Were you really telling the truth? Was this all a lie?

He didn’t text back; instead, his finger pressed the call button, and he held his breath.

“Helloooo?” a voice picked up on the second ring, but it wasn’t your voice. It was a voice he didn’t recognize at all.

‘Voice actors,’ Bakugou’s voice reentered his thoughts, and the phone in his hand nearly dropped.

“Sorry, hello?” the voice he knew as you finally came through, and Kirishima let out a shallow breath, one so small, so mediocrely weak it burned his lungs.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, maybe too softly because you asked with a strained laugh for him to repeat his words. “Do you trust me, y/n?”

There was a pause on your end, too long a beat for Kirishima to be comfortable with.

“Of course I trust you, Ei, are you okay?”

“Do you actually trust me, or are you lying?”

“Woah there,” you said a small laugh on your tongue, but there was only confusion in it, not your contagious sound. “Did you drink? It’s a work night, you never do that!”

“Answer the question,” Kirishima spoke with finality, his shoulders tense, tears pushing past his eyes while he struggled to maintain composure.

Prove Bakugou wrong, please, prove Bakugou wrong.

“Of course I do,” you spoke with genuine clarity, but still, Kirishima was rattled, his confidence blown. “What’s going on?”

Did he want to confess to his insecurities? Was it worth it? His breathing became frantic, almost as if he was going insane just thinking about where his thoughts were. But Kirishima was never good at hiding things, no he was as open as a book.

“Why won’t you let me see you… we’ve been friends for six months, and the only thing I know about you is your eye color and your hair color. It’s so insanely generic that I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, your voice small, almost a whisper of all the energy one could have at this time of night.

“I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t trust me, who’s using me,” he spoke with perfect clarity that hid away his insecurities about this all. “For all, I know nothing about you is real, that this is all just some ploy to hurt me in the end. Six months and you can’t trust me with a single meet up or even a picture? I just… has this been a game for you, y/n? Or is that even your name.”

The call ended and a single message held on his screen, this call has been dropped, but you didn’t seem to want to call him back.

Kirishima didn’t sleep a wink that night, his words coming back to bite him in the throat each and every time he thought he was close enough to sleep. Insecurities riled up in him, consuming him entirely.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

He tried to call back.

For fourteen straight days, Kirishima attempted to call you back.

Every time he called you, he would always hang up before he could take back his words. But each call, after he had prematurely hung up, he would recant his mean words to the unresponsive phone. He did trust you, he was weak, he was unmanly to assume those things. You could take, however long it took to finally trust him again because he would wait for you no matter what. He apologized again and again until the very last one he broke down into silent tears, a single message of ‘I hope one day you’ll forgive me’ hung weakly on his voice and put his phone away.

It was sixteen days since he had spoken those cruel words to you, and in that time, he didn’t regret finally talking about his ill feelings towards wanting to reveal yourself to him. But he did regret the way it came out; instead of it being a deep and personal conversation, it came out as bitter and one-sided. The two of you were disconnected, and he felt empty.

But he couldn’t focus on it, not today, after all, it was Bakugou’s birthday, and everyone was gathering at the local fancy restaurant to celebrate.

Kirishima dressed up presentable, wearing a navy blue button-up, and dark slacks. He walked towards the entrance of the restaurant where Kaminari, Sero, and Midoriya were eagerly leading the group of them into the building. Typically Kirishima would’ve been with them in terms of spirit, but he felt energyless at the moment.

With the moon high in the sky, Kirishima stilled when Bakugou called out his name.

He stared at his best friend, the ash blond’s lip curled into a sneer while he huffed, “Listen, Kirishima, I’m sorry for what I said that night.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s okay, Bakugou!” Kirishima laughed, his hand slapping to the back of his neck. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I never said I was wrong,” Bakugou grunted, his eyes locked on Kirishima’s while he shoved his hands into his pockets. Kirishima stilled, unsure as to where this would be leading. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I know that Mina hurt you badly, and you’re too big of an idiot to not see when things arise. Maybe y/n is genuine, but if you aren’t fucking honest with her about your own feelings about how she’s so secretive, it’s not going to work.”

Kirishima smiled softly, a weak shrug moving through him, “I know, thanks, man.”

Bakugou nodded, and without a word, he continued on ahead where Midoriya was yelling at them to hurry up and come so they could be seated.

Kirishima sighed, rolling out his shoulders before following afterward.

Kirishima followed after the hostess, smiling at her gratefully when she sat the group into their own private room and left.

“Bakugou’s paying, right?” Kaminari stage whispered to Midoriya while staring at the prices on the menu.

“Eat shit, dunce face, learn how to save up your fucking money the next time you offer to come to this fucking place!” Bakugou roared, hearing the whisper.

“I’ll be covering the bill,” Todoroki informed with a smirk on his face. Kirishima laughed, looking at the prices and indeed agreeing with Kaminari’s statement. Having a wealthy friend was very convenient at times like this.

“Hi, welcome to Eiko, I’ll be your waitress today!” a voice chirped from the entrance of the room, and Kirishima froze, he recognized that voice and face.

It was the person he had mistaken for you all those months ago.

By the smile on your face, it seemed that you recognized them all too.

“And what is your name,” Sero winked, his eyes captivated by you.

“Oh, haha, sorry, my name is y/n,” you smiled, moving the menus you held in your hand to show the silver nametag on your uniform.

“Oh, like Kirishima’s y/n,” Kaminari laughed, pointing a finger at Kirishima, not at all being as quiet as he probably thought himself to be. But it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who thought that because while Kirishima was staring at your face, embarrassingly taking you in, you followed Kaminari’s finger.

Your sight sat on the redhead in the middle whose name was Kirishima, and you straightened up in what felt like panic.

“You’re Kirishima?” you asked quietly, your finger grasping the menus so tightly, your knuckles turned white. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“The one and only,” Kaminari voiced for him, his arm thrown over Kirishima’s shoulder while he nodded like a scholar. “And why do you ask?”

“Shut the fuck up, dunce face.” Bakugou hissed.

Kirishima continued to stare at you, a million words running through his head, yet not a single one being translated on his tongue. You were beautiful.

What should he say?

What could he say?

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head, a smile of disbelief spreading across your face, “Unbelievable.”

“Y/n—”

“Be quiet,” you snap, your tone angry, but your eyes beyond hurt. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

Dinner wasn’t exactly a pleasant time, you came in and left faster than anyone could blink, and yet none of their drinks went empty, nor did they really have a problem. Much quicker than Kirishima would’ve liked, they were done and were soon piling out of the restaurant after Kirishima decided to leave a very, very generous tip.

“I’m going to stay until I can speak to y/n,” Kirishima said, waving off his friends who were expecting him to follow. But he couldn’t, not when he felt like the world's biggest ass for what he did to you.

“Good luck,” they all wished him well before eventually leaving, knowing better than to stick around.

So there at the outside bench, Kirishima waited.

Two hours he sat there until you emerged from the front door, your hair was no longer put back, you held your apron in your hand, and your purse on your shoulder.

“Y/n!” he called out, his feet no longer cemented into place; he strode after you.

You didn’t seem to pick up the pace, nor did you slow down. You were focused on your car that sat at the edge of the parking lot, and you ignored his calls.

It wasn’t until his hand touched your shoulder, and he appeared before you did Kirishima freeze again. Angry hot tears slid down your face, your face screwed up, your shoulders stiff.

“What do you want, Kirishima?” you spat, but there was only exhaustion in your voice, nothing bitter, nothing at all what Kirishima deserved from you.

“I want to apologize,” Kirishima whispered, his hands struggling to reach out and wipe your tears away. You were crying because of him, he did this to you. “I was a dick, I was… beyond unmanly to you, and I’m so sorry! I just let Bakugou get into my head, and I’ve never been a secure person because, well, I’m just… fuck, I don’t even know, but all I know is that you didn’t deserve this. And I like you so much, but I didn’t — I don’t know what to do?!”

Your eyes stared up at him, they were bright with tears, wounded beyond anything Kirishima could hope to fix.

“That night, you said if I didn’t trust you, but I did trust you! I’ve always trusted you—” your finger jabbed his chest— “but it was you who didn’t trust me! I get that it’s hard to not have a picture of someone you care about after a long length of time, but we were always fine for a while! It was going to happen, but while I trusted you, I didn’t trust myself, okay?! I couldn’t trust myself to see that if you were so much more handsome than me that I couldn’t be confident enough to let myself be friends with you! I constantly fuck up relationships when I have crushes on people because… I don’t know, I just do! But you were someone with no risk and the highest risk, and I wanted to be sure in my own feelings before giving you a picture of me! But… fuck, Kirishima, you didn’t trust me!”

Kirishima’s throat tightened, the tears on your face a guilty reminder that this was because of him. But how could he fix this?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands grabbing onto your arms just above the elbow, and his head hung by your forehead, not quite touching you, but just enough that his spiked hair teased the atoms between you. You were taller than he expected, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with, no, not at all. “You’re right, I didn’t trust you, and you didn’t deserve that. I don’t think there’s anything that I can say, or do for that matter, to change your mind, and I’m sorry. I just panicked because who gets into this type of situation, how do I tell my phone friend that I have feelings for her? I was weak, and I am so fucking pathetic, and I just want to make things better. If you’ll let me be your friend again…”

He slowly looked back up at you, and you were frozen in your place, tears falling down your face still.

“I don’t think we can be friends,” you confessed, and Kirishima’s heart broke in two, his hands dropping from your arms in his embarrassment and humiliation.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry still, um… maybe I’ll see you again?” Kirishima smiled despite it all, he kept smiling despite the crack in his chest and his soul.

“You will,” you murmured, and before Kirishima could blink, your fists wrapped in his collar, and you brought him down for an ardent kiss that he was not quick to respond to. It took three seconds for him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in, kissing you again and again and again.

It didn’t seem to matter to either one of you that you were both now kissing without a care in the world in the middle of a parking lot, because you both had your emotions exposed to the other, and you didn’t want to be friends. At least not when the man who held your heart confessed that you held his in yours.

The two of you weren’t truly disconnected, it was just a little lost moment in your call.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

2K notes · View notes

suddencolds · 3 years

Text

Pretense | Genshin Impact | 2/2

Part 2 of my Gen/shin Imp/act fic w Childe/Zhongli, ft. a cold, a meeting Childe doesn’t want to cancel, and dinner with Zhongli. (Here’s part 1!)

—

Zhongli stands. “Childe,” he says earnestly. “I was beginning to worry that something had happened.”

“Trouble at work,” Childe says dismissively. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, that’s for sure.” It’s not the full truth, but how can he tell Zhongli that he’s only late because his cold is taking its toll on his usual brutal efficiency? He’s sure that, in conjunction with his lateness, it would only sound like an excuse. “I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Zhongli says, unperturbed as ever. “You are worth waiting for.”

Childe grins at him, a little shakily. “Still, it’s cold out. Had I been closer to town, I would’ve sent someone to tell you about the delay. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”

“You are the one who suggested for us to meet here,” Zhongli counters. “It was only natural for me to uphold the agreement until you arrived.”

Childe wonders if he’s like this with everyone—loyal and almost infuriatingly genuine. Surely Zhongli has run into his fair share of people who don’t keep their promises—Childe wonders, not for the first time, if there’s any limit to his seemingly limitless patience.

“Is everything resolved now?” Zhongli asks.

“Yeah. I just ran into some difficulty with recruits. You know how it is,” Childe says. “Business as usual, yet the newcomers can be… difficult to cater to.” He conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s usually the one pushing himself past his limits to impress them—that’s not something Zhongli needs to know. “I had a couple good spars with them, though!” He makes a show out of stretching, stifling a yawn. “If I’m more tired than usual, that’s probably why.”

Zhongli only nods. “If you are tired, we can postpone our walk, and end our meeting early so that you can be properly rested when—”

“No,” Childe says, maybe too quickly. “No, no, it’s okay. You waited all this time for me, and… I’m excited for tonight.” That’s not a lie. He feels better standing next to Zhongli already—something about being in his presence makes him feel strangely comforted.

There’s also the irrelevant, lesser-known fact that Childe hates being alone when he’s ill. But that’s not something he intends to share, either.

“So…” he sniffles as discretely as possible. “...dinner?”

Zhongli smiles to him. “I am looking forward to it.”

They fall easily into step, shoulder to shoulder. Liyue is busy as always, and one of the merchants—carrying something or other, not looking where they’re going—bumps into him, sending him closer to Zhongli. It’s only a moment of contact, but Zhongli is… warm. Childe pulls away quickly so that Zhongli doesn’t feel him shiver.

As always, Zhongli talks, and Childe finds himself more than content to listen. For once, he’s glad that the market is so loud—it makes it so that when he sniffles or clears his throat, it’s not very noticeable.

Halfway through the walk, though, a familiar, sharp prickle settles back in his nose. Zhongli is still talking, so Childe turns away slightly, his breath wavering.

“... hH!”

“The jade plaques are hand-carved, so they are all unique,” Zhongli is saying, oblivious, as they pass a stall that sells jade pendants. “As jade goes, it is priced for its translucency and the evenness in its coloration, though true jade always has imperfections.”

Childe pinches the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt to stave off the growing urge to sneeze. “A double edged… hH! S-sword,” he comments. “I imagine that if they’re too clear, there’s a chance they… Hiih! … might be counterfeits.”

Zhongli nods sagely. “That’s right. Jade plaques like this are especially valuable, given their history, which makes them a popular relic for dishonest merchants to emulate. It is said that they were originally made to honor Rex Lapis, Lord of Geo, back before his form was—”

Childe jerks away, cupping his hand over his face as a sneeze snaps him forward.

“HiiHH’ISCHHEW!”

The sneeze echoes in his cupped hands, barely muffled, and still… loud. He flushes, embarrassed, as he lowers his hands slowly from his face.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says.

Faintly, Childe realizes that Zhongli is looking at him. Childe refuses to meet his eyes. He’s sure that if he makes eye contact now, Zhongli will be able to see straight through him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Childe says, sniffling again.

Zhongli is quiet for a moment, observing him with his usual scrutiny. Childe wonders if his hesitance is out of disgust.

“Are you alright?” he says finally.

Childe nods. “I’m fine! Must be that…” he looks around. They’re next to one of the food stands that's heavy on its spices, which he assumes is as good of an excuse as any. “...one of the spices here… hhIH… hIHh’NDGt!” He almost winces, turning away to sniffle with one knuckle pressed to his face. “...doesn’t agree with me, ahaha. Nothing to worry about! Uh, you were talking about the Lord of Geo’s forms?”

“Ah. Yes,” Zhongli says. He launches into the history of jade plaques and Rex Lapis’s many forms, and somewhere along the way, Childe forgets what he’s worried about.

The sun’s going down, and uncharacteristically the cool air is making him shiver. He crosses his arms mid-walk in a mostly-futile effort to conserve warmth, but it doesn’t do much. In between his frequent interjections, his voice is starting to sound worse, too—he supposes he’s overused it in talking to the recruits; it’s lucky that Zhongli is content to do most of the talking.

When they get to Wanmin, Zhongli leads him to one of the tables outside.

“Wanmin is well-known for its variety,” Zhongli says. “While it offers Li style and Yue style food, you will find that Chef Mao also fulfills even the most specific of customer requests.”

“Specific customer requests, huh,” Childe says. “Does that mean you’ve ordered something off the menu here, xiansheng?”

Zhongli smiles. “I have ordered everything except for the seafood dishes.”

“I forgot about your aversion to seafood,” Childe admits, laughing. “You will have to tell me the story behind it someday. Besides that, what do you suggest?”

“I think I have something in mind,” Zhongli says untellingly, looking contemplative. “First, sit down.”

Childe obliges. Sitting down is a relief—as much as he would never admit it, their short walk has left him exhausted. He resists the urge to slump forward on the seat. Worse, the persistent itch in his nose from earlier is back.

“Stay here. I will order for you,” Zhongli says, laying a hand on his arm, and Childe—

Childe actually shivers, which is embarrassing, to say the least. Luckily, Zhongli doesn’t seem to notice. “Don’t forget about the mora,” he says, and fishes for a pouch of coins from his pocket. “Here. I’m sure Chef Mao has dealt with his fair share of your forgetfulness.”

Zhongli smiles sheepishly, which is probably more endearing than it has any right to be. “Thank you, Childe. I will be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears around the corner to talk to Chef Mao, Childe exhales, lifting a hand to rub his nose. It’s a bad idea. Suddenly the tickle from before is back, and he’s snapping forward with barely any warning, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHIH’NGDt! hH!..HIHh’GKtt! hhH....”

Stifling isn’t very relieving at all. If anything, it seems to make him more congested. He casts a quick, desperate glance towards the restaurant. It’s still loud outside, the marketplace as raucous at night as it is at day. Surely Zhongli won’t notice if he—

“hIIH…. hIIH’ISChH-u!” Well, it’s not like he has much control over it now. “hHh... hiIH’IZCHhew!” He gasps again, ducking lower to muffle the sneeze in the crook of his arm. “hIIh’IISCHEEW!”

They’re forceful in a way that suggests that this is going to be a really awful cold, but it’s relieving to succumb to the urge at last. He sighs, sniffling hard, and lowers his arm. Zhongli is still ordering, it seems. Childe is suddenly grateful that he’d chosen this moment to step away.

His eyes are watering a little, so he blinks quickly. Finally, Zhongli comes back to sit down across from him.

“That was fast,” Childe says, wincing a little at how congested his voice sounds. “I hope you gave him a tip?”

"Of course," Zhongli says, sliding back the pouch of mora.

They fall back into conversation easily enough after that. It’s only when Zhongli goes quiet that Childe snaps out of his reverie.

“You have been quiet,” Zhongli remarks. “Is something on your mind?”

Childe blinks at him. “Ah. Sorry,” he says, muffling a cough. “I’m still listening. I can talk more if you want me to.”

“No,” Zhongli says. “There’s no need. I was only wondering if it would be better if I refrained from speaking so much.”

Childe frowns. Zhongli has the wrong idea—Childe likes listening to him—but he can’t help but wonder if he’s worse company than usual. “I like listening to you,” Childe insists. “If… it’s okay. I just… I’ve talked a lot today, so...” He looks away, feeling his face grow hot at the admission. “I think I’m, uh, losing my voice, or something.”

Zhongli frowns at him. “Will you have recruits to train tomorrow?”

He tries to recall his schedule for the week. “Don’t think so. Tomorrow’s errands will… hiH!...’NGDshH! be more straightforward. I—” he coughs again. “I hope.”

“That is a relief,” Zhongli says. “Regardless, you should save your voice. Your assurance that you are still interested is enough.”

I’m always interested, Childe thinks, as Zhongli launches back into another story about Liyuen history. His voice is smooth and low and, in every capacity, as comforting as always. Childe falls into it entirely.

It’s only when the food arrives that he finds himself staring down at a bowl of still-steaming soup.

It’s not something he’s had before. He takes an experimental sip. The warmth is immediately comforting; it's exactly the sort of warmth he's been craving all day. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, and he can barely taste it through his congestion, but what he can discern of the flavor is...

“This is delicious, xiansheng,” he says, letting his eyes fall shut in his indulgence. “What is it?”

“Bamboo shoot soup,” Zhongli answers simply. “It should be a good remedy for your cold.”

Childe nearly drops his spoon.

He blinks, surprised. “What?”

Zhongli stares back at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Your cold,” he repeats. “You have been showing symptoms of it all evening. It is not unlikely that you have a fever as well, if the way you have been shivering is any indication. Were you not aware that you were ill?”

Childe buries his face in one hand. “I knew! Just... was it so obvious?”

“Did you intend to keep it a secret?”

“Not exactly, but…” he sighs. “I didn’t want to cancel our plans over something so trivial. You had already waited so long for me, so it wouldn’t have been fair if I’d just… used it as an excuse to - hIHh!”

Childe feels his breath wavering. He shuts his eyes in desperation, ducking away from the table. This is really the worst timing.

“hIihh… hIIH’NDGxt! snf… s-sorry, I... hIIH’ISSHHEEw!”

He flushes as another shiver racks his frame. It’s… embarrassing, to say the least, to sneeze so openly right in front of someone he admires.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says. When Childe looks up at him, he looks sad, his shoulders hunching as he stares down at his own food. “Childe, are you only here because you felt obligated to uphold your end of an agreement?” His voice is soft, as always. He doesn’t sound accusatory—only uncertain, but somehow, that makes it worse. “I would not have thought any less of you if you had been honest with me.”

“That’s not it,” Childe says, and fuck, he wants to say anything just to get that hurt expression off of Zhongli’s face. “I came because I wanted to see you.” He blinks past sudden exhaustion. Suddenly his breath catches wrong and he’s coughing harshly, hurrying to press his forearm to his face as his shoulders shudder with the effort.

“I… realize I might not be great company right now, though,” he admits, wincing. His voice is really shot.

Maybe it would have been better had he been less selfish. Maybe he should have cancelled their meeting the moment he’d started feeling bad. Or maybe he should get rid of his strange over-reliance on the funeral consultant in the first place.

Zhongli reaches for his hand. Childe wants to pull it away, on instinct, but Zhongli’s grasp is firm and strangely, hopelessly grounding.

“You are always good company,” Zhongli says sternly, with as much conviction as he has when he recites history or recalls fact. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked. For you, I would have said yes.”

“You indulge me,” Childe accuses him, sniffling. Zhongli smiles, as if he’s taken it as a compliment.

“Perhaps. Will you let me walk you back home after we finish our meal?”

Childe wants to protest. They had a walk planned, after all, but he’s exhausted, and the trip back to the inn he’s staying in suddenly seems much less arduous when he considers he could be walking back with Zhongli.

“Zhongli, you are proving my point,” he says, cracking a smile. “...If you don’t mind, though, I would love that.”

He’s really going to miss Liyue when he leaves.

#sneeze fic #snzfic #sneeze kink #gen/shin impact #this was hard to write #;;#i am at the edge of my wits writing childe's internal monologue #i'm very soft for these two so i can only hope i didn't #fk up their characterization or anything #my fic

64 notes · View notes

astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

freedom of the press 06 | t. jefferson

title: freedom of the press 06

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: 15k

warnings: implied sex, suggestive jokes & teasing, thomas has astoundingly shitty timing, lafayette is a huge fucking cockblock, hella fanservice, v v v tender quality time, and then some more implied sex

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

By the time Y/N woke up, the sun was hardly up, the streets were plowed, and the bed was warm. She didn't try to leave it, instead curling further into Thomas's warm embrace when he pulled her close. Huddled alongside him, his skin against hers, she didn't bother to fight the fatigue that still ebbed at her mind, instead letting herself drift peacefully in and out of consciousness. She could feel Thomas's quiet laugh rumble in his chest when she made no move to get up. She didn't process it enough to react when his lips brushed against the crown of her head.

By the next time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky over Washington D.C., the streets were still plowed, but the bed was cold.

She frowned as she pushed herself to sit up, leaning back on a hand as she rubbed her bleary eyes. He'd left without saying a word.

She knew as she peeled the covers off herself, still damp in places with sweat from the previous night, that she shouldn't have expected him to stay.

Why would he have? He was a busy person; it was already... Shit, how had it already reached 2 PM?

She slouched into the bathroom, feeling like a wreck as she wiped the smeared mascara from her face, tied up her wreckage of sleep hair. She couldn't bring herself to take off his undershirt she'd donned the previous night, too cold to sleep in nothing but too exhausted to find some real clothing. (He'd laughed at her for it, but all the same, he didn't give much resistance before offering up his shirt.)

Regardless, they'd done nothing more than sleep together. He had no commitment to hang around any longer. If she were him, she probably wouldn't have stayed either. Still, it would've been nice for him to have said goodbye.

She tried to blink the sleep from her vision as she padded to her kitchen on bare feet; she would force herself to eat something before getting dressed and having to go down to another shift at the diner that evening.

Dry cereal might not have been the pinnacle of health for her just then, but it was easy, and she was in no mood to fight her cravings. When she pulled down a bowl, though, a flash of purple in the corner of her vision gave her pause.

She closed the cabinet absentmindedly as she turned, eyeing the post-it note dubiously from a distance, glancing around her apartment to confirm she was alone. (There hadn't been much question about the matter, but she couldn't be too careful.)

It was a moment later still when she approached it, stifling a yawn, and plucked it from where it'd been stuck onto the countertop.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Y/N raised an exasperated eyebrow at the scrawled note despite the smile she fought back. The handwriting wasn't hard to recognize; not after she'd run her fingers over matching pen marks through a few hundred pages of Byron poetry -- not to mention the fact that there had only been two people in her apartment all night, and she certainly didn't remember writing that.

She shook her head lightly as she went to recycle it, but that time, it was the writing on the back of the paper that made her freeze.

For the next time you need some ancient literature, or for the next time you lock me out in the cold.

(202) 863-4828

Perhaps it wasn't such a gloomy afternoon after all.

------

Unknown Number: [Attachment: 1 image]

Unknown Number: nerd

Thomas grinned down at his phone where it was tucked halfway into his pocket. He'd been in meetings since noon, but after the night he'd had, he was struggling to focus on fundraising numbers and campaign strategy, most of it going in one ear and out the other as he waited restlessly for his phone to buzz. He'd begun to think by then that she wasn't going to reach out.

thomas 🙄: kinda harsh to say that abt someone who's been dead for 200 years

Y/N 🍑👀: ah yes because i was definitely referring to byron

Y/N 🍑👀: not the person who carries around purple sticky notes just to paste byron quotes in people's kitchens

thomas 🙄: you insulting my stationery?

Y/N 🍑👀: just your taste in literary quotes

thomas 🙄: don't be mad just cause i'm right

thomas 🙄: it didn't even wake you up when i left in the morning

thomas 🙄: at that rate you were gonna spend a lot more than a third of your life asleep

Y/N 🍑👀: wouldn't have still been asleep if you hadn't had me up past 4 am

thomas 🙄: is that really a complaint, now?

Y/N 🍑👀: uh??? yes, it is????? i have to deep clean my sheets and my mattress now smh

thomas 🙄: as though it wasn't worth it ;)

Y/N 🍑👀: wasn't worth the cost of the five gallons of bleach i'm gonna need to get the smell out

thomas 🙄: don't even pretend

thomas 🙄: you didn't seem to have any problem last night when i started ruining your sheets

thomas 🙄: you really gonna act like you don't want me to ruin them again?

Y/N could almost hear his voice in the messages, could picture his self-satisfied smile, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she read and re-read the text.

Y/N 🍑👀: you're paying my laundry bill

thomas 🙄: worth it to me

Y/N 🍑👀: or maybe we'll just have to ruin your sheets next time

Thomas inhaled sharply; his eyebrows shot up. Next time. He wouldn't have thought that just two words could turn him on quite that much.

"Thomas?" His head snapped up, his eyes wide; he'd somehow managed to forget entirely where he was in the few minutes since Y/N had texted him. Thankfully, it was only James who seemed to have noticed.

"Hmm?" He blinked, staring up at James's expectant stare. His gaze flickered across the conference room, and while James was clearly on the border of annoyance, everyone else looked to him curiously. "'M sorry, James, I spaced out for a second thinking about... your proposal for the fundraiser?"

That was the last thing he remembered hearing, and James didn't look impressed. "Right," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was asking how you felt about doing another town hall in D.C."

"Yeah, alright." He nodded, hardly processing the words, and James cocked a brow.

"Really?" He folded his arms. "I'm surprised you're giving in that easily. Last I remembered, you wanted to move your next few town halls up further north."

Thomas shrugged. His palms were sweating as all eyes turned to him for an answer after he'd spent the past ten minutes thinking about something very different from his supporters. "You make a good case for it."

(The fact that he hadn't caught a minute of the advocacy was irrelevant.)

James hadn't bought a word of it, and Thomas could tell from a single glance at him. He made a mental note not to pick someone who could see right through him as a running mate next time.

However, he fabricated a smile, much to Thomas's relief, having no desire to confront him right there or then. "I'm glad. I had a couple venues scouted out, but I'm open to any more suggestions."

"I think we need a new type of place. The same locations again and again get monotonous." Thomas struggled to resist rolling his eyes; he had to remind himself he'd only hired Charles Lee because he was donating more than twice his salary to the campaign.

"So what do you suggest?" He met his eyes skeptically from the other end of the table.

"What about a café?"

"A café?" Another of his campaign staffers who he couldn't identify by name spoke up -- Noah? Nate? Nathaniel? Thomas couldn't help but agree with his incredulity.

"It would be good for you to actually get to know your voters instead of... preaching to them from on high." As Lee continued, his voice close to a sneer, Thomas had to force himself to control his expression. "It would be much more personal for you to finally sit down and meet them."

"I'm runnin' a campaign, not speed-datin' the voters." Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw James purse his lips to repress a laugh.

"It's actually an excellent idea." Really, now? He glanced disbelievingly at the woman to his left. "The most common criticism you receive is about thinking yourself above your voting base. It'd be a good chance to lose some of your aristocratic reputation."

Hurtful, but not inaccurate. Thomas nodded, though he knew the skepticism was still clear in his gaze.

"If we do go through with this, where in the city do you propose we hold it?" James didn't seem to appreciate his fundraising proposal being derailed into a meet-and-greet, and by Charles Lee of all people. Thomas was right there with him, his annoyance only compounding when Lee shrugged unhelpfully.

"It's the Jefferson campaign, not the Lee campaign." Charles did make a good point with that. Thomas only wished he'd have thought of it before he decided to wedge his opinion into James's plan like a Republican jigsaw puzzle.

The question gave him pause, however. Were he to be perfectly honest, he didn't know more than five restaurants in the city by name, four of which wouldn't exactly earn him any points as a 'man of the people.' The last, however...

It was probably a poor idea; he'd known that even before he considered it. But it did seem to fit what they were looking for. It was in a low-income neighborhood, run by a family of immigrants. It had a bright atmosphere and an abundance of seating. However, the most tempting part to him wasn't how it'd look to the voters, but being able to see one person's expression when she learned he'd rented the place out for an entire evening.

It might've been a poor idea, but he had to put his campaign first, and the benefits were more than defensible.

He grinned. "Think I got a place in mind."

------

Y/N spent the next few days overthinking the fact that Thomas had left her last text on read. God, why'd she have to go and put the idea of a 'next time' out there? She was sure he didn't want commitment any more than she did, so she must have scared him off.

She hated how tumultuous the past Friday night had left her emotions.

Thankfully, when she arrived at work the following Monday, it didn't take too long for the distractions to come pouring in.

"Y/N!" Her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide as she saw Ashley marching into her office. She wore a smile, but her eyes were narrowed, and Y/N couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach.

"Ashley." Her response was wary.

"So your article got a decent bit of attention last Thursday." The words were nice enough, but they were altogether devoid of energy.

"... Thanks?"

"No, that's definitely a good thing; take the compliment." As Ashley circled around to take a seat on the edge of Y/N's desk, however, she tensed in her office chair, trying not to noticeably grip the armrests. "But a lot of it was controversial attention."

"How?" she asked, taken aback. Her brow was furrowed; it was likely the most unbiased article she'd written about the election.

"A lot of our readers seem to think you're siding with the Jefferson campaign toward the end of it." So this was why Ashley had entered looking so skeptical, and Y/N was sure her disbelief was written plainly across her face.

"Seriously? Because I mentioned that they're turning away funding from super PACs, you mean?" Ashley nodded, and Y/N let out a huff of incredulous laughter.

"You don't need to hold back on your critiques, alright? You can go after whatever information you uncover." She either didn't notice the annoyance growing in Y/N's eyes, or she didn't seem to care. "Don't be afraid to use what you uncover."

"And if what I uncover is entirely unrelated to the election?"

"Nothing is unrelated to the election, Y/N. That's exactly what you don't get." Something akin to excitement flashed in Ashley's gaze as she leaned forward toward Y/N, but the hint of vindictiveness gave her pause. "For you, the people are readers, not voters. You're not the one in an election."

Though she shifted further away in her rolling chair, Y/N said, "I'll keep it in mind, but for the time being, it's all been pretty mundane. Haven't found any skeletons in his closet."

"Then make some."

A beat passed; Y/N could only stare up at her boss in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes when Y/N didn't seem to be on the same page, which only elicited more worry. "You, as a writer, have grown to national visibility. You have the power to sensationalize things if you want to keep people hanging onto your every word."

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Ashley narrowed her eyes further at the bite behind Y/N's words.

"I'm serious. If you want to go further as a reporter, you can't just state facts. You need a narrative. There's a reason no one watches C-SPAN."

"Pretty sure I can spin a narrative on the election without stooping to the level of a gossip column." With Y/N's hard stare, Ashley seemed to realize she wasn't getting any further with the conversation, and after eyeing Y/N for another moment, she sighed heavily.

"You'd better show me a good narrative." Y/N had begun to tune her out as she pushed herself off of her desk, instead turning back to the article she'd been drafting. "I trust your judgment as a writer, so I'll let you take this however you want it. But people want to know who they're reading about."

"I have a feeling everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is by now," Y/N responded dryly.

"I mean know him, know him." That elicited a raised eyebrow. "He's a person, not just a candidate. That's what America wants to see."

Y/N couldn't help the strange sense of pride that curled in her chest, tried instead to suppress it alongside the inexplicably conceited mantra Ashley's words elicited: she knew Thomas Jefferson in a way America never would.

When Ashley raised her eyebrows, Y/N realized she'd let the silence stretch on a moment too long. She swallowed her thoughts. "So you want me to air his dirty laundry?"

Y/N's eyes widened at the grin that broke through Ashley's unimpressed demeanor.

"Finally, she gets it." With that, Ashley turned to go, ignoring how dumbfounded she'd left Y/N. She glanced back with a well-pleased smile.

"If you need dirt, never be afraid to dig up whatever it is he's left buried."

-----

Unfortunately for Y/N, the distraction that was her boss's scarily cutthroat mentality only weaved itself into her racing thoughts about her most recent encounter with everyone's favorite Republican frontrunner. The next few evenings at the diner were slow, which she couldn't necessarily complain about -- being rushed and nagged by half of downtown D.C. over the course of a week wasn't quite her paradise. However, it only gave her time to spiral under the weight of everything she'd learned.

To her conflicted relief, coming in earlier in the afternoon on Wednesday provided a welcome diversion. It would've been her afternoon to herself after leaving her office at the Post, but when one of their baristas called in sick, the money for an extra two hours was too tempting for Y/N to turn down.

Despite her early shift, it wasn't until around 7:30 that her evening hit a bump in the road.

"Prosciutto roll for Belle?" she called out as she reached the end of the counter, putting the tray with the finished order and the receipt on the end of the counter. She pulled a paper cup out of the stack by the divider for the drink that was ordered. She was about to dash back to the kitchen after checking over the food, when--

"Excuse me."

She was sick of overly-familiar voices interrupting her workday. She froze on the balls of her feet where she'd begun to retreat, before turning with forced positivity permeating her demeanor. Couldn't her two jobs stay separate, at least most of the time?

"James! Hey. Congrats on the Super Tuesday win." His surprised smile put her at ease as she reached where he stood.

"Oh... Y/N. Thank you," he said, tone hesitant, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I didn't know you worked here." She only shrugged.

"I just started two weeks ago. Not surprised you haven't noticed me around."

"No, I don't mean..." She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, before he chucked to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my first time coming here. You being an employee just... explains a few things, is all."

"Glad to provide some clarity... ?" With any context, his insinuation would've been painfully obvious; however, completely ignorant of the previous Saturday's meeting, Y/N was absolutely oblivious. She pursed her lips.

"You have my gratitude for it." James's knowing smile explained nothing for her, however.

"Right." She glanced at the growing line over at the cash register, anxious to keep the flow of customers going smoothly as the place filled up. "Anyway, what can I do for you? If you're here for dinner, line starts that way."

She nodded to the other end of the counter, but he shook his head.

"I'm not looking for food, actually."

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm starting to think you're in the wrong place."

"No, no..." He plucked a takeout menu from the stand toward the end of the counter and nodded, eyeing the diner's logo. "I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"You're sure?" Her skepticism was still blatant.

"I'm sure." He glanced up from the menu with a smile. "May I speak to your manager, just briefly?"

That was when she paled. Eyeing his nonchalant expression, she prayed none of her assumptions about his motives could possibly be true, especially as they grew stranger and stranger. Her new spiraling was beginning to tie back to her previous spiraling -- could James have found out about the past Friday? Would Thomas have possibly told him? Why would that mean he showed up at her family's diner to talk to her manager about it? Could he have been trying to--

"Why do you look so nervous?" Her alarm only seemed to amuse James, and she huffed, leaning against the counter.

"James. You're a politician who showed up at my place of work, rejected food, and requested to speak to my manager." She looked up at him with a flat gaze, and he only chuckled, shrugging in acquiescence. "There isn't some new health code no one told us about, is there?"

"Not this time. Check back in a week, though." She rolled her eyes. "In all seriousness, may I speak to whoever's in charge? I assure you I'm not here to shut down your café."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "How generous of you. Give me a second."

He nodded as she turned away, laughing when she took only three steps before aggressively yelling "Orlando!" in the direction of the kitchen.

The man in question emerged with his brow furrowed, wiping his hands on a dishtowel with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mija?"

"Nothing yet." She glanced between him and James, her stare inquisitive. "Someone wants to speak to you about the diner real quick."

"You get us into trouble again?" Orlando raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N couldn't help her wry smile as she rolled her eyes, batting at his arm.

"No, Orlando," she huffed.

Her contrived annoyance hardly buried her amusement before James decided to pipe up. "'Again'?"

She turned to James with a playful glare, and he grinned. "You stay outta this." She pointed a reprimanding finger at him, but he didn't appear at all fazed. "Gonna get me fired before you have a chance to shut us down, at this rate."

"You got us shut down?" Orlando gasped, but when Y/N saw the mirth behind his playful shock, she groaned.

"No, Orlando." James's and Orlando's grins mirrored one another as she looked between them, exhaustion settling into her tone. "I need you two to take each other off my hands, now. I have drinks to make."

"Of course, Y/N." James wasn't too hurt by the final glare she sent him before turning away.

As she fell back into her rhythm fulfilling orders, Y/N couldn't help but keep an eye on the two men, especially not when Orlando emerged from behind the counter to talk to James, trying to stay out of her way but also moving just out of her earshot. She knew the glances she kept sneaking toward them weren't as subtle as they should've been; she knew Orlando could see her watching them. As James continued on, Orlando's entire demeanor went from skeptical to welcoming, his body language opening up in turn. (Y/N tried briefly to read their lips, but something gave her the feeling that 'sent out the minors' wasn't quite true to their conversation.)

She had to force herself to turn her focus back to the customers as the unfinished drink orders began to pile up, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the mounting line of cups to her right with names and orders, but with a distinct lack of coffee. A few more minutes passed as she struggled to keep up, finally holding pace with the ever-growing demand when Orlando shook James's hand, passed off a business card before the two parted ways.

At the risk of making just a few customers lose their heads, Y/N followed Orlando into the kitchen, her curiosity overriding her work ethic.

"Hey, what was that about?" She caught him just as he was tying his apron back on. How pleased he looked had her skeptical.

"Oh, nothing very big. Don't worry." He withdrew his plastic gloves from the front pocket, pulling them on with a shrug. "He asked me about renting out the diner for a night for an event with Thomas Jefferson's campaign."

That stopped Y/N cold. "He did?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and he didn't seem to notice how stunned Y/N had suddenly begun to look. "I told him yes. I didn't think Mira would be thrilled if I turned it down. He offered us a lot of money for it."

"Oh, did he now?" She let out a shaky exhale, glancing back at the front of the diner to see James just exiting through the glass doors. "And did he say why he wanted to do it here, of all places?"

Orlando shrugged. "I didn't ask."

Why wouldn't that be your first question? Despite her moderate angst, Y/N tried not to let her frustration show. "Is Mira around? I need to talk to her."

"Aren't you in the middle of a shift?" He gave her a pointed look, and it elicited a dramatic, drawn-out groan from Y/N.

"Orlando," she whined, folding her arms. He gave her a mocking pout.

"Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "You're losing us valuable customers and valuable time as the line gets longer. Go back to making drinks."

Despite her scowl, she nodded. "After I close tonight, you're gonna get a piece of my mind."

------

As it turned out, it wasn't Orlando who was given a piece of her mind that evening.

2 New Messages, 10:38 PM

Thomas raised an eyebrow as his phone vibrated. He sat at his own dining room table, the sound coming from just inches to the left of where he was working on his laptop. Who would be contacting him that late?

Y/N 🍑👀: tell me it wasn't you who came up with the idea of renting out mira and orlando's diner on the only night when i work all evening

Y/N 🍑👀: please for your sake blame james

He grinned. The draft reports of the campaign's funding allocation he'd been typing up could wait just a few minutes.

thomas 🙄: i feel like you're just tryna get me to lie so you can slander me in the papers for it

Y/N 🍑👀: thomas i stg

Y/N 🍑👀: are you just planning your campaign around what's gonna annoy me most????

thomas 🙄: that's a heavy accusation, i would never

thomas 🙄: just wanna make sure you don't get too lonely without me

Y/N's scowl held no real anger as she read the texts.

Y/N 🍑👀: oh of course

Y/N 🍑👀: if this is your way of trying to get laid again, it's a flawed strategy

thomas 🙄: what happened to ruining my sheets "next time"? :)

Y/N 🍑👀: you still owe me for all the bleach i had to buy

thomas 🙄: don't avoid the question

Y/N 🍑👀: don't avoid the cleaning bill

thomas 🙄: if you're still tryna ruin MY sheets next time, it won't be your problem

Y/N 🍑👀 is typing...

Thomas rolled his eyes when the typing bubble disappeared and he didn't receive another text. Y/N, on the other hand, was biting her lip, her fingers hesitant on her keyboard as she read his text to herself. Her heart rate was picking up as flashes of the past Friday played in her mind.

thomas 🙄: did you really just stop typing on me??

Y/N 🍑👀: can we return to my actual question???? why the fuck did you decide to rent out the diner for your campaign?????

thomas 🙄: wasn't my idea to hold a meet and greet at a restaurant

Y/N 🍑👀: there are literally hundreds of restaurants in dc tho

thomas 🙄: and??

Y/N 🍑👀: and you just happened to rent out the diner i work at during the entirety of my shift???

thomas 🙄: pretty sure i mentioned a while back that i was gonna learn your schedule

Y/N 🍑👀: i'm not sure how good it's gonna look for your campaign when i file a restraining order against you

thomas 🙄: you mean you don't miss me? :(

Y/N 🍑👀: oh c'mon you're just asking for it now

Y/N 🍑👀: you almost make it too easy to mock you

thomas 🙄: i'm so hurt

Y/N 🍑👀: already?? i haven't even started mocking you yet

thomas 🙄: we'll see who's mocking who when you're stuck with my campaign for five hours this friday

Y/N 🍑👀: five hours??????

thomas 🙄: don't get too excited now

Y/N 🍑👀: fuck you

thomas 🙄: only after you get around to changing your sheets

✔ Read, 11:03 PM

------

Try as she might, Y/N failed to find a way out of her evening shift the following Saturday. She pleaded with her co-workers (no one else was available); she faked sick (Jac marched up to her apartment just to call her out); she was about ready to find a fake ID and leave the country when a better idea occurred to her.

Mailto: [email protected]

Hi Mr. Adams--

(No, too informal.)

Vice President Adams:

(.... Passable.)

I hope this email finds you well. This is Y/N L/N of the Washington Post, to whom you gave your email address a number of weeks ago at President Washington's gala.

(She prayed she was using 'whom' correctly.)

As you know, I've been assigned to cover the Jefferson campaign up until this November's election, and I'm reaching out for any timely information you would be willing to share on the current relationship between Secretary Jefferson and yourself, as the projected Democratic nominee. I was hoping to find out--

(What was she hoping to find out? Her mind was still attached to Ashley's most recent ominous wisdom -- don't be afraid to dig up what he's left buried. But how could she ask the vice president for dirt without erring on the wrong side of collusion?

Backspace just a little.)

I was hoping to give my readers a somewhat more personal perspective on Jefferson's time holding office as Secretary of State. Is there any chance you'd be available for an interview? Please let me know; I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

(Was regards too stiff? Backspace.)

Best regards,

Y/N L/N

She'd been hesitant to actually use the email address he'd given her; she bit her lip as she pressed send. She might not have been able to find a way out of five hours of the diner being full of nothing but Jefferson supporters, but if Ashley was looking for dirt, eavesdropping and an opposing perspective could go far for her. Despite her writing prospects, she spent the entirety of her Saturday dreading its end.

James was the first to show up. The diner was cleared of its usual patrons, but that night, it'd be operating at capacity.

"So should I assume your presence means this whole 'meet-and-greet' wasn't an elaborate hoax just to deepen my frown lines?" Y/N was looking up at him with somber resignation as he entered the diner wearing a wide smile.

"Your input and documentation are valuable to this campaign, Y/N. We would never target you like that." She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the counter, despite how amused James appeared. "In other words, you have a long evening ahead of you."

"Y'know, I'm firmly convinced you're just trying to make my life Hell until I stop covering the election," she accused him, and he laughed.

"Have a little faith. I wasn't even made aware that you work here."

"Yeah, you weren't."

"What are you implying, exactly?"

"Take a shot in the dark." She glared at him, but it had no real anger in it. "Now, I'm not sure why Thomas is so fixated on antagonizing me, but you'd better tell him--"

"James, hey, you ready to get set up?" It was at that moment the front door of the diner flew open, and it was only a moment of silence that passed before Thomas looked up from whatever he was so absorbed in on his phone, and when he caught sight of Y/N's exasperated expression, a grin split his face. "Y/N? You workin' here, now?"

"Don't even start."

"Aw, c'mon, what d'you possibly mean by that?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets; he wore a shit-eating grin, and Y/N just scowled.

"I have too many hours left in my shift to deal with you two this early." She pointed an accusing finger between the two of them as she threw down her dishrag. "I'm getting Mira and Orlando."

"Some hospitality," Thomas pouted as Y/N began to turn, pausing to give him the stink eye, and he failed to mask his entertainment under his feigned offense.

From there, the evening went about as well as she could've hoped. Mira, as expected, was beyond overjoyed to see Thomas, didn't waste even a moment in helping him set up, and when the floodgates opened at 4:30 PM sharp, Y/N's feet were sore even thinking about scurrying back and forth for five hours on the tile floor she'd already spent her morning polishing. (So much for that polish, anyway. It was less than five minutes before layer after layer of bootprints wracked the shining ceramic with an avante-garde collage of brackish slush and sidewalk gunk.)

Demands were ringing in her ears. She struggled to distinguish between her rather lifelike migraine and the surrounding frenzy of voters and journalists alike -- the voices all sounded the same. A disembodied shout requested an extra tub of honey butter, and she tossed one onto the end of the counter without thinking twice. Two dozen hamburgers over the next thirty minutes seemed a small price to pay to no longer be working the cash register.

She'd begun to count how many viruses could fit on the surface of each dollar she collected in tips with a strained smile, retreating back to the kitchen to wash her hands every time she stuck one into the pocket of her apron. Considering the crowd, she considered herself lucky she was making tips at all.

The money was an undeniable result of the wandering eyes of a number of middle-aged men in the crowd, being to various degrees of seedy -- her skinny jeans seemed to be a hit. Though he wasn't one among the crowd stuffing wadded bills into her hand with a sleazy grin every time she came around to bus tables, there was one man whose wandering gaze she kept meeting. (He'd rather have provided a much different type of gratuity, and she suspected that went beyond subsidizing her trip to the laundromat to wash her bedsheets.)

She had to put it out of her mind every time she caught and subsequently broke his stare. The wolfish smile he watched her with had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd have liked; every time she noticed it, she couldn't help but pale and duck away like a mouse dodging a trap (no matter how tempting the bait might've been). Not to mention it was distracting her from her job. She shook the thought from where it weighed down on her shoulders, instead scurrying back to the register to deal with the line.

"Alright, what can I get you?" The words were breathless as she rushed to the counter, having just made seven lattes in the span of approximately five minutes and ferried forty kilograms of dirty dishes back to the kitchen -- she wasn't looking forward to washing them at the end of the night. Her tired eyes snapped open when she realized who stood before her. "Lafayette! How long have you been here?"

"Standing in line, or in ze restaurant?" His smile was just on the right side of jeering, and she rolled her eyes.

"I didn't take that long to get here; I don't wanna hear it."

"Of course not, chérie." He eyed the menu posted above her as he spoke. "I arrived 'ere nearly two hours ago, but I 'ave only just now come to get food."

"Been avoiding me?" she teased.

"Can you blame me?" Her scowl was all but involuntary at how self-satisfied he looked, choosing to avoid her annoyed gaze. "Any recommendations from ze menu?"

"Whatever's most expensive." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she shrugged, holding her hands up defensively. "What? Like you can't afford the New England stuffed lobster?"

He pursed his lips as he looked back down at her, but his eyes were all smug amusement. "Fine. I will 'ave zat and ze agave lemonade."

"My paycheck appreciates it," she said. "That all?"

"Zat will be all for me." The devious smile he wore as he leaned in a fraction of an inch had her on edge. "But with 'ow he 'as been ogling you all night, I daresay Thomas may want something more."

"Lafayette!" she scolded him, stepping back from the counter to glare. "Why has that become the first thing you bring up every time you see me, now? I am at work."

Her seething was in a hushed tone, and he only shrugged, leafing through his wallet with a smug smile. "Remind him of zat, not me."

____________

It was nearing eight o'clock, and Y/N refused to remind herself that she still had more than an hour and a half to go. She'd deigned to wash the dishes by that point, actively avoiding the crowds in the dining room between Thomas's wolfish gaze and Lafayette's knowing smile -- she wasn't sure when her family diner had become a lion's den.

The yellow latex gloves she'd been forced to sport were an occupational hazard, she supposed, as she reached up to return her latest stack of side plates to their rightful place in the cabinet above her. When she turned back to the sink--

"Thomas!" She jumped back, holding the edge of the counter behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.

He raised an entertained eyebrow as she pulled off her thick rubber gloves, throwing them down onto the counter with a thud before reaching over to turn off the water. "What are you doing back here?" she huffed, "You can't be here."

He shrugged, and she could feel her heart rate rising along with the blood to her cheeks. Him cornering her, alone in the kitchen at her part-time job after all the texts they'd exchanged over the past week, had her feeling increasingly vulnerable.

He plastered on a mock pout, folding his arms as he leaned against the side of the counter. "Oh, nice to see you, too, Y/N. I'm great, thanks so much for askin'."

Y/N scowled. "Don't pretend I'm the one out of line, here."

"You aren't happy to see me?" His brow creased as he held a hand to his heart, and though she rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You're hurtin' my feelings. Figured it'd be a welcome surprise."

"Oh, of course, based on how thrilled I was to hear you rented the place out for the night?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

She huffed at his audacity, shaking her head.

"Anyway, what d'you want?" she asked as she moved to go back to where she'd been at the sink, shooing him away. However, entirely undeterred, he took a step toward her, and she took one back, nearing the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide.

"Thomas," she said hesitantly, and he took another nonchalant step toward her, slowly backing her against the kitchen wall. Her voice was shaky, her heart pounding in her ears like a warning bell. "What are you doing?"

"Well, sweetheart," he began matter-of-factly, his gaze hawklike. Her breathing stopped for a moment as he closed in on her, one hand landing on the wall beside her head and the other on her waist. His grin broadened. "I seem to remember being promised a 'next time.'"

At that, she couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathy. "Seriously? And you think now is a good time to cash that in? I'm working."

"So am I." He shrugged. "Makes it more fun, doesn't it?"

"No, it absolutely does not!" Her reprimanding was losing its bite, though; his smile was apparently more contagious than anything she was going to pick up from touching the used cutlery of his unsavory voters. He leaned in toward her with a mischievous eyebrow raised. "Thomas."

"Y/N," he echoed mockingly before he dipped down, lips finding the side of her cheekbone, trailing down toward her jaw.

"There's a window in here," she reminded him, despite tilting her head to give him access to her neck. "We're in plain sight."

"Not from this corner." She could feel his grin against the side of her face. "Really think I didn't think this through, sugar?"

She let out a skeptical hum when his mouth reached her collarbone, running her hands up his chest, arching up against him despite herself. "This is a bad ide-- Ah!" She squeaked when he nipped at her skin, and his grip on her hip tightened.

"Whatever you say," he murmured into her neck.

"We're going to get caught." She let out a soft gasp as his hand on her hip traveled south.

"By who? Mira?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, a playful shine to his gaze. "She gonna fire you for stealing the attention of her favorite customer?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to push back the grin that threatened to break hef stony facade. "No, she's gonna fire me for whatever health code violation this constitutes." She shoved him lightly by the shoulder, but it only prompted him to anchor her to him by the waist.

"I won't tell." The hand that rested against the wall threaded itself into her hair, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for any sort of reaction in the affirmative. She bit her lip.

"My kitchen shift ends in less than half an hour." His expression visibly deflated, and she gave a small, sly smile. "So you'd better be quick."

Delighted surprised flashed in his eyes; she squealed when he hitched one of her legs up to his waist, tightening her hold on his shoulders. "Well, I can't turn down a challenge, now, can I?"

With that, he reached over and flicked the sink's faucet back on, the water drumming loudly on the underside of a saucepan. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing?"

"Drownin' you out."

His lips returned to her neck with increased fervor, and he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, biting softly into her skin. "Fuck you," she moaned, and he laughed.

"Right here, in plain sight?"

She was about to rebuke him, eyes narrowed and mouth ajar, before he began sucking a hickey into the skin of her shoulder, and he felt her whole body relax in his grasp as she let out a groan. "You're unbelievable."

"I do my best." Her eyes began to flutter shut as she lost sight of her initial task, the small tsunami of dishes becoming hardly a wave in the distance. His hands trailed further downward, and she could feel her chest heaving as she dug her nails into the thick material of his suit. She bit down on her lip, trying to remain quiet, desperate not to draw any attention, when the door opposite them flew open.

Y/N squealed, shoving Thomas away from her, but the damage was done when she met the intruder's eye.

"Lafayette?" she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing back here?"

"So it is only a problem when I come into ze kitchen?" He gave Thomas a pointed look, who glanced to Y/N guiltily. She yanked her shirt back over the reddening mark halfway across her shoulder with a huff. "I was only coming to ask where ze bathroom was, but I fear ze two of you may need it more zan I do."

"Out. Both of you." Y/N glared at Lafayette, who looked spectacularly amused by the scene he'd walked in on. Thomas, however, looked nearly as put-out as Y/N. She walked over to pull her rubber gloves back on, turned the water off in the sink. "I need to get back to work."

"It seems you should do ze same," Lafayette commented to Thomas, who straightened his tie, scowling.

"Thanks for the reminder." He brushed past Lafayette on his way to the door before he turned to leave, casting Y/N one more burning gaze that left her palms sweating.

Y/N turned back to the sink and grabbed the next dish from the stack, expecting Lafayette to follow Thomas out, but he only raised his eyebrows, joining her near the sink as she picked up a sponge and returned to scrubbing a spot of yellowish crud from the edge of a plate, grimacing when she realized it was crusted over.

"So," he started, and she looked up at him warily, not abandoning her task. "I take it my hunch as to where you disappeared to at ze fundraiser last week was not misguided?"

She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, pausing for a moment, thoroughly displeased with the hubristic smile he wore. She didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. "What d'you want, Lafayette?"

She glanced in his direction as he pulled his lips into a dramatic pout. "Is my company not good enough for you to 'ave here? You hurt me, chérie."

"Right. No agenda there," she said dryly, and he shrugged, unable to contain his self-satisfaction.

"So, 'ow long have you and Thomas been carrying on in secret?"

After the momentary pause the bluntness of his question gave her, she rolled her eyes. He came around to the drying rack on her other side, apparently ignoring her peeved sarcasm. "We aren't."

"Non? Then what, exactly, did I just walk in on?"

"Give it your wildest guess." As she turned to add a plate to the stack, she watched Lafayette hoist himself up onto the counter to her left. He gave her a sly look.

"Why did you not tell me about your little liaison? It is not like it was difficult to figure out."

"'Liaison'," she snorted. "Is there anything you don't know how to make sound pretentious?"

"Do not avoid the matter at hand."

She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat as she turned the faucet back on, and it wasn't just the steam coming from the scalding water. "It's not like that, Lafayette. Seriously."

"'Ow far 'ave you two gone?"

"Lafayette!" She turned with that to glare at him, his nonchalance about her embarrassment only compounding upon it.

"What? Do you really not want someone to confide in?" She paused at his words, though her scowl didn't relax, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "I can only assume you 'ave not been 'aving zis conversation with Alexander. I can picture quite clearly how 'e would react."

She let out a huff of bitter laughter as she returned to the dishes. "Can't argue with that one. He thinks the hickey I came back from Detroit with was from you."

"Non!" His eyes shone with mischief, despite his contrived incredulity. "I am your cover story?"

"It's his theory; I didn't even give him the idea." She added another plate to her pile. "Though, a lot of my friends seem to think you're a whore, now."

"Mm, and why should I not go and tell them ze reality of ze situation?"

"Don't you dare!" she said. "What do you stand to gain from that?"

"Protecting my reputation, apparently," he said mildly. "Or, you could simply tell me what 'as been going on."

"Are you blackmailing me for gossip?"

"Think of it as an exchange."

She scoffed, turning her head to look at him. "You really are shameless, huh?" He shrugged, folding his arms as he turned to look at her expectantly, his knee bumping her pile of silverware. She sighed. "Fine. We screwed. You happy?"

"Delighted." He wore a small smile as he shifted her dishes out of his way. "'Ow many times? Only once? When was zis?"

"Lafayette!"

"What?" he asked innocently, but the exhaustion written across her face made him laugh. "Come on, Y/N; we are friends, non?"

"Seems like I'm stuck with you, so sure."

"Zen why do you not feel like you can speak freely with me?"

When she met his eyes that time, the words seemed to be in earnest, not even mocking in the slightest. He wore a small smile, and he broke her gaze after a moment, eyeing the layout of the kitchen.

"Alright. If it'll get you off my back." She sighed, shooting him a dirty look, and he nodded, pursing his lips to suppress the grin that was bursting at the seams. "It was a week before Friday. Only once. And, to be honest, I have no idea where to go from here."

"Thomas seems to have some idea where he wants to go." When she gave him a dead stare, he laughed. "I am not making fun of you, zis time. Truly."

"This time," she repeated bitterly. "I'm just... not entirely sure what I want. The whole thing feels risky."

"It certainly is risky if you are trying to get lucky in public during his campaign event." He gave her a scandalized look, but her scowl was unwavering.

"Thanks for the advice."

Her sarcasm left him undeterred. He shrugged. "But if you are careful, what is ze harm? I assure you, even the papers zat care enough to cover Thomas's sex life do not 'ave the resources to find out who is ending up in his bed."

She hesitated a moment, considering his words.

"No, you're probably right." She sighed. "The thing is... I don't know. It feels like it could become a problem."

"Ah, is there... something more you want out of zis?" The sidelong look he gave her was more concerned than she expected it to be. She shook her head, giving a light laugh.

"No, no, nothing like that." He'd begun moving the dishes to his other side by then to maintain his spot on the counter. Y/N rolled her eyes when she noticed. "My career just complicates things, is all."

Before he could respond, she took a step back from the counter, peeling off her rubber gloves despite the looming load of dishwashing she'd still have to do before the end of the night. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to get back to making sandwiches. Head back out to the dining room."

She jerked her chin toward the door while retying the strings on the back of her apron. Lafayette frowned.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Not trying to. Kicking you out." She gave him a flat stare as she turned toward where she stood. "Some of us have bills to pay. C'mon."

He scowled as he hopped off of the counter and she waved him away, following close behind to herd him out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her when she did, though, and his gaze looked once again as smug as it had when he first realized what he'd walked in on. "If you insist, chérie. I understand that you must do away with me before you can carry on with your little affair. Do not let me get in ze way."

Y/N rolled her eyes at how pleased he looked with himself as he strolled back into the seating area, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. However, when she returned to the kitchen counter, she couldn't help but scan the room through the front window; who she was looking for went without saying. She found him already looking at her, and she swallowed hard.

Nothing articulable was conveyed in his heavy stare, nor in the barely-there smile he wore, arms folded as he watched her shamelessly. She bit her lip. The three seconds she held his gaze felt like hours, and when he finally winked and broke eye contact to turn to someone who'd just approached his table, she felt her stomach turn. This wasn't over.

------

Thomas's rally ended at nine, but it wasn't until closer to nine-thirty that he'd persuaded the final member of his constituency to call it a night. Mira, Orlando, Jac, and all their miscellaneous employees had gone home when their shifts ended at the official end of the event, but Y/N was stuck on the clock for another hour or longer until she finished cleaning up the mess left behind from the evening. Unfortunately, his event running over time meant that he didn't start clearing out his campaign setup until around five minutes after the diner was empty, and that his posters, decorations, and gaudily-colored buttons weren't actually gone until closer to nine fifty.

Y/N was clearing the kitchen counters all the while, knowing she couldn't begin to mop up the grayish mess of liquified dirt and matted grass scattered across the floor until they were both gone. When they seemed to be on the last load of red streamers and campaign merchandise, she emerged back toward the front counter to lock up behind them. Thomas was still out in the back when James approached her, his final box of t-shirts resting on his hip.

"Is there anything else you need from us before we leave? I don't want to take up too much more of your time."

Y/N smiled at the concerned look he wore. "Depends; have you paid Mira in full for all our troubles?" Despite her exhaustion, her tone was light, and the tension in James's brow relaxed.

"I gave her the check before she left."

"Then you're good to go." She shrugged as she went to collect another basin of dirty dishes from under the side of the counter; her annoyance at it couldn't even rise, not after the mountain of plates she already had waiting for her next to the sink. "I've got everything else under control."

He nodded. "Thank you for letting us rent out the venue. All our attendees seemed more than happy with it."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here, but I'll take the credit if you're offering it." She raised a playful eyebrow, and he wore a tired smile.

"The credit's all yours."

"My gratitude is beyond words." Though the words were mocking, he let out a light laugh, and she couldn't help her wry grin.

"I'm always glad to hear it." He took another glance around the place, checking for anything that might've been left behind, before turning toward the back exit Thomas had just re-emerged from.

"What else do we still have to box up?"

James paused on his way out. "You're welcome to do a final sweep, but I believe we have everything."

"Yeah?"

"I'm fairly certain." He looked back toward where Y/N stood behind the counter once more, leaning down on the bakery case. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Bye, James." Her sleepy voice has a singsong lilt to it that made Thomas smile as he searched the dining room a final time. She'd started toward the kitchen once more to retrieve her broom, but Thomas's voice stopped her.

"Anything else I can do before I head out?"

She turned on her heel to face him, wore a soft smile when she saw how earnest he looked, eyebrows raised and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. "So long as you’ve gotten everything you brought here, there’s nothing I need from you."

"You sure?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged casually. "Just hate to leave this place a mess from our campaign event. Don't wanna leave you with all the extra cleanup."

She pursed her lips when her smile threatened to broaden. "That's sweet, Thomas, but really, it's okay. I'm on the clock for a while longer anyway. I think I can stick it out, considering I'm the one employed here."

"Feel like I remember hearin' somewhere that your shift ends at ten." He furrowed his brow, walking toward the counter where she stood. She didn't quite get his point until she turned to the clock above the doorway: it was nine fifty-eight. "'S there really nothin' I can do to help out?"

She snorted, folded her arms. "Not unless mopping the dried coffee off of the floors is your idea of a good time." When his expectant expression was unwavering, her eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously offering your services as a janitor, are you?"

The corners of his lips quirked. "Only if it's welcome, sweetheart."

"You're wearing a full suit." The disbelief in her eyes was rigid despite his conviction.

"Don't mind. Long as I can throw my jacket somewhere." He cracked a grin. "Unless, of course, you just wanna get rid of me."

She eyed him skeptically, but he didn't seem to be joking just then. "If you're serious, I'm not turning down free labor."

"Or an excuse to spend more time with me?" His tone was playful, and she couldn't help her spiteful laugh as she re-entered the kitchen.

"So that's your ulterior motive? Hope you don't think you're getting any when it's eleven o'clock and I'm half asleep from my seven hours here tonight."

"As, c'mon now, why's there gotta be an accusation?" he called after her, and she could hear the teasing frown in his voice. "Can't I just wanna lend a hand?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." She emerged not a minute later with a broom and dustpan to see him having shaken off his jacket and undone his tie. She quirked a brow.

"Hey, anywhere I can throw these?" His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he slid his tie out of his collar, popping open the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and Y/N bit her lip. The suits he wore didn't quite do justice to his physique; his jackets may have fit tighter around his upper arms, but his shirts were practically molded around his biceps just above where the veins bulging in his forearms disappeared into his sleeves. She was sure the few extra inches of visible skin below his collar were meant to draw her wandering eyes, only hinting at the toned chest she knew lay beneath the starched fabric.

When she looked back up and caught his eye, he looked predictably cocky. He wore a wide, smug grin, and she rolled her eyes before he even spoke. "You're starin', sweetheart."

Y/N shrugged, wearing the smallest of smiles. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Anything you wanna see again?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and she laughed.

"Tempting," she said, and when surprise flashed in his eyes, his interest piqued as he started toward her. However, she stopped him at arm's length, a hand on his chest. "But you know what would be really sexy?"

His delight in the turn of events was obvious. "What's that?"

She leaned her broom against the counter and took a step forward, pushing herself onto her toes until her lips brushed against the skin just below his ear, and his hands ghosted down to her hips. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Watching you disinfect all the dining room's high-touch surfaces."

She pulled back with a broad grin when he let out a disappointed groan. "Seriously?"

His frustration was obvious, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, deadpan, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Free labor really gets me going."

"Tease," he grumbled, and Y/N gave him a skeptical stare.

"Don't you gimme that; I'm not the one here under false pretenses," she reminded him, and he folded his arms.

"Now I dunno what you could be refferin' to." She raised a dubious eyebrow when a grin split his phony discontent. "But there's nothin' wrong with mixin' business and pleasure."

"Don't you dare try to derail me after taking up six hours of my time, Jefferson." She prodded his chest with a scowl. "If you're sticking around, I'm putting you to work."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." When he did grab the broom, he glanced back toward the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive frown. "I'm gonna go stick my jacket in a cupboard; is that alright? I'll only be a minute."

"Oh, yeah; do you want me to take it? We have a coat closet in the back."

"Nah, 's alright. I can find it."

Though she gave him a skeptical once-over, Y/N nodded. "Have at it."

When he wasn't back a few minutes later, her train of thoughts managed to run a full 5k -- what could he possibly be spending that much time in the back for? Was he really still trying to find a coat hanger, by then? How hard was it to find a closet in exactly two rooms? Or, really, was he just hiding out until she'd already gotten the worst of the grime off of the tile?

She eliminated her final guess when early-2000s pop music began blaring through the diner's sound system. Though she groaned loudly enough for him to hear it from where he'd located the aux input, she couldn't say this was really a downgrade from Orlando's dusk-till-dawn smooth jazz. When he emerged from behind the kitchen's swinging door and caught sight of her dead stare, he laughed.

"Hanging up your jacket, huh?" Her annoyance was contrived; the way the corners of her lips twitched up gave her away.

"Hey, I can multitask." He bit his smile back, giving her a serious look, brow furrowed. "I said I'm here to help, didn't I?"

"How is this possibly helping?"

"'Cause you need to liven up a little bit," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Cleanin's only boring if you make it boring."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you start wiping down the bathroom."

"Hey, how'd I end up on bathroom duty?" he pouted, and she shrugged, turning to the shelves at the back to hide her growing smile.

"As the only one of us who actually works here, I've elected myself the de-facto CEO." She hung her dishrag up on the rack next to the sink before looking back at him over her shoulder, shrugging. "Hate to break it to you, but you're on my turf."

"But I'm a volunteer!" he protested, and she grinned.

"My point exactly."

"Now, what if I refuse to do it?" Though she was busy restocking all the cups that she'd finished washing earlier in the day, she could hear Thomas's footsteps approaching where she stood behind the counter.

"Then you don't, and you finally leave so that I can be productive."

"Sounds like I'm really the one with the power, here."

"Not when I have something I know you want." She looked up with a suggestive smile when he hoisted himself onto the counter beside her, and he raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest.

"And now what's that?"

"Three guesses, Thomas." She had a feeling he'd only need one of them when his gaze began to wander down the length of her body, eyes shining.

"I dunno how unpaid this labor is, sweetheart."

"Well, you won't quite be making minimum wage," she said, turning back to face him as she leaned against the counter opposite where he sat. "But I think the employment benefits will make it worth your time."

"That so?" He pushed himself off the counter's edge, hardly having to take a step forward before his arms landed on either side of her on the counter's edge, caging her in, and she inhaled sharply. His grin was wide; his hips pressed into hers as he leaned in, and she swallowed roughly, leaning back on her hands which rested on the linoleum countertop.

"I'd like to think so," she breathed, as he dipped down, wasting no time as his lips met the tender skin below her jaw.

"Mm, I think I'm gonna need to decide that one for myself," he murmured against her neck, and despite how tempting it was when his hands gravitated to her waist, falling slowly further as he bit down softly on her earlobe, she pushed him away the minute she found her last shred of willpower.

"Uh-uh." Thomas scowled as he pulled back, hands planted on the counter at her sides. She folded her arms. "I'm not gonna make even more of a mess of this place that I'll have to clean up. When the diner's shining, I'd be happy to revisit."

One of his hands rose to her jawline, lifting her chin up ever so slightly to look him in the eye, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "After the place is spotless," he murmured, his voice hard and his gaze fixed on her lips, "Hope you know how much you're gonna regret leadin' me on like this. You won't be tryin' it again."

Despite her effort to remain unaffected, Y/N's breath caught, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to fight the heat rising in her cheeks. Her eyes were wider than she knew, and he seemed to be reveling in her reaction, wearing a wolfish grin.

After a moment, she swallowed, took a deep breath, her voice shaky. "Last I checked, I'm still at work."

"And I wouldn't dream of hinderin' your career." Thomas winked as he took a step back, going for the broom where she'd discarded it before, acting as though nothing at all had happened. Y/N was left reeling.

Thus began the next ninety minutes of her life. Though, to Y/N's surprise, Thomas did end up cleaning the bathrooms, putting up little resistance, he'd also managed to convince Y/N to help him. Despite there having been two of them, every subsequent task took twice as long as it otherwise would've. She'd have denied it, but Thomas's presence was a more-than-welcome distraction.

About half an hour later, he'd managed to drag her away from her Lysol bleach and her old rags in favor of taking a break to dance with him (apparently, she was underappreciating the wonder that was Outkast's greatest hit). She rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grudgingly obliged, and Thomas couldn't help but call out the small, growing smile that broke her grumpy facade. He'd seemingly done the impossible by getting her to let herself go for an evening. Neither of them was quite sure how the floor had gradually become spotless between their distracted banter, nor when exactly they'd managed to wipe down every surface in the kitchen as his playlist seamlessly ventured through every one of Britney Spears's wildest phases.

She'd just about forgotten about her fatigue as Thomas repeatedly soaked the ankles of her jeans with his mop, claiming that her being in his line of sight was just too much of a distraction for him to do his job properly. She scoffed every time, but the fact that her cheeks had grown sore from smiling made her annoyance marginally less convincing.

He eventually took off his shiny black oxfords after having spent the evening trying to hide his concern over some of the chemicals in her soaps ruining the varnish; she didn't bother to argue with his insistence that it absolutely marked a milestone in their progress that he wasn't afraid to step in any greenish gunk or black mold -- if they hadn't missed any, what was the harm? However, she did reprimand him for ransacking their fridge when she left for three minutes to put the mop away. She didn't stay mad long.

Wiping down the glass of the bakery display case took too long for her liking. As it turned out, it was difficult to focus after teasing him for the expected mediocrity of the John Mayer impression he claimed to be impeccable, as he immediately decided it needed to be proven. However, she didn't regret provoking him when the result had her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. She was just glad that they'd nearly finished cleaning.

Much to his dismay, Thomas had to cut the music after the sweet old lady who lived above the dry-cleaners next door came down, banging on the back door to chew them out. The fire behind her threats to file a noise complaint with the cops died down pretty quickly when Thomas offered her a beignet and a cup of tea, sending her on her way with a winning smile, a to-go box, and a Jefferson campaign button. (Y/N proceeded almost immediately to scold him for just giving away the fruits of her hours of labor behind a deep-fryer.)

But as the music was revoked, their animated evening of slacking off began to wind down. The only thing left for them to do was to finish the dishes, and Thomas proved to be much more helpful with this than Lafayette had been earlier in the day.

All was quiet as he washed the dishes and she proceeded to dry them, silence split only by his sporadically humming the best of the Black Eyed Peas. It was comfortable, just being together as the warm air wafted from the cooling oven not too far behind, as their hands brushed every time he passed her another plate. Her lips were pursed in a feeble effort to hide how endeared she was every time she glanced to him, his sleeves soaked past the elbow while he remained unbothered. If he noticed, he didn't mention. Finally--

"How are you so good with people?"

"Hm?" He turned his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, and she had to ignore the flecks of foamed soap that clung to his curls and his shirt. Y/N shrugged.

"I just mean..." Her smile was shy; she didn't meet his eyes. "I don't get how you do it. Mira absolutely dotes on you; you've befriended half of our staff after one night here. You just talked to my crankiest neighbor for literally all of five minutes, and suddenly, she's part of your voting bloc."

He just watched her for a moment. His stare was soft. "Can't help it if people find me irresistible."

Her loud, disbelieving scoff made him grin, but she looked far from annoyed. "That's your secret? You were just born with it? It isn't Maybelline?"

Though he laughed quietly, when she turned to him with her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. Her question seemed to be in earnest. "I dunno, sweetheart. Don't think it's anything special. People seem just as drawn to you, anyway."

"Sure, 'cause I have a nice ass, and I'm wearing tight jeans. Not the same thing." How frankly she spoke made him grin, and he shot her a wink, passing off another bowl to her.

"Can't argue with that." She rolled her eyes as she began drying the next dish. He bumped his elbow lightly against hers, gaze teasing yet soft. "But you know that's not what I meant."

She sighed. "Alright, fine, but I'm not forty-points-ahead-in-the-polls charismatic. I just... can't figure out what it is about you that people seem so drawn to."

As she concluded moments later, the uninvited smile she wore when he flashed her a warm grin could've contributed to the reason. She turned back to the plates before her, feeling her skin warm under his heavy gaze. "So you're tellin' me people don't follow me strictly 'cause of my political framework and field experience?"

"Oh, I'm sure every one of your supporters has invested hours into reading the 174-page pdf of fiscal policy your campaign published." Another stack of cups went into the cupboard below her.

"People really don't care about how taxin' it was for me to write all that? And here I was, thinkin' every American voter was out there doin' their homework." He looked with disappointment down at the salad plate he was scrubbing at present, but Y/N wasn't buying it.

"Thomas," she groaned as she turned to meet his phony pout, her stare flat. Her mild annoyance only served to amuse him further, and though she scowled when he laughed, he leaned over to gently kiss the crown of her head. She could feel herself flush despite how chaste it was; the casual affection left her more thrown than if he'd tried to rail her in the middle of the kitchen.

"'M only kiddin'," he defended, voice heavy with mirth, making her roll her eyes.

"Aren't you always?" she asked, wiping off the inside of a cup.

"'Course not." He frowned, and she deadpanned as she turned to him, arms folded.

"I'm not sure we've had a serious conversation since I met you."

"Now, that's just not true."

"Isn't it?" He put down the saucepan he was rinsing out to turn to her, matching her demeanor.

"It isn't. I know I tease, but I've never been anythin' but one-hundred percent authentic with you, Y/N."

A moment passed where neither said anything. The corners of Y/N's lips quirked at how sincere he sounded as he waited for her to react. Finally, she turned back to the dishes before her with a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe this is what it is."

"Hm?"

"Why people like you. This whole endearingly earnest act you've got going on. I could see that being pretty appealing to voters."

"Hey, what d'you mean act?" He bumped his shoulders into hers, offense written across his face, and she laughed.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Traipsing around from state to state like some type of charismatic golden boy. Making everyone feel all special and appreciated. It's a good tactic; don't get me wrong." She shrugged as she shelved the last stack of bowls. Just a few more things to wash, and they could officially consider the diner spotless. She didn't think much of her own words, but he hung onto them. It was inexplicable as to why he took so much pride in her all but admitting he made her feel special.

"My bein' all kind-hearted and charmin' isn't some scheme," he said after a moment, plastering on a scowl, and she raised an eyebrow as he passed her a fork. For a brief moment, she was worried she'd crossed a line, but when his eyes met hers, his gaze was playful. "'M just a nice person. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Her mouth fell open in surprise, indignant but hardly disguising her smile, and she let out a huff. "I was joking, you asshole!" When he only snickered, she pursed her lips, shoving him away from her with the little comparative strength she had.

"Hey, now!" His reprimanding had very little bite to it with the laugh carried in his voice as he stumbled a step to his right, tugging the faucet head along with him. He scowled at Y/N's self-pleased smile, flicking his wrist to turn the spray of water from the sink onto her.

She yelped, jumped back from it, but he'd already managed to drench the front of her shirt. She wore an expression of disbelief as she paused a moment, watching him return to the dishes as if nothing had happened despite his entertained grin. It was then that she struck back, lunging toward the sink to retaliate, and he wasn't quite quick enough to stop her.

He could only do damage control once she'd already managed to spray a line of water across his chest, and she gasped when he pushed her back to her part of the counter.

"You're more trouble than I was expectin'," he laughed, and she folded her arms.

"You're no walk in the park yourself."

"But you're the one who decided to let me stick around, sweetheart," he retorted, giving her a pointed look, and she shrugged good-naturedly.

"You might be a handful, but you're worth having around once in a while."

He laughed at how matter-of-factly she spoke, and for once, she wore an unabashed grin. "Now you're just flatterin' me," he teased.

"Oh, of course, such high praise; you aren't always awful."

"Hey, that means somethin', comin' from you," he defended, prodding her in the side, and she squealed, jumping away.

"Hands off, Jefferson. I'm at work."

"Aw, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect your professional boundaries."

"Check yourself next time," Y/N scowled, but there was no heat to it. The pair caught one another's eyes, both wearing the same, gentle smile, and it seemed too soon when he broke her gaze, returning to the last couple pieces of silverware. She watched him another moment until he turned to pass her a ladle. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her gaze hadn't strayed.

She only turned back to the counter when she took the ladle from him, drying it off and sliding it back into its place in the drawer. All was quiet, and though they could both feel the chilled air of the spring night drifting in through the poorly-sealed back door, where they stood, it felt perfectly warm.

He glanced at her. "'S nice to see you like this."

The comment was offhanded; he didn't wait for a response, only returned to washing the spoons, but Y/N furrowed her brow.

"Like what?"

He turned back to her with a raised brow, mildly surprised at the curious frown she wore, and he shrugged, still wearing his faint smile. "I dunno." She didn't fill the silence, and he continued, "With your guard down. Always feels like you've got some kinda walls up."

She swallowed; for a split second, her gaze was absent. Ultimately, she sighed. "I guess I'm just cautious," she said quietly, and Thomas frowned at the defensive lilt that had returned to her tone.

"I get it." He reached over to finally turn off the water, and she put away the final fork he handed her. "'S not always worth lettin' people in."

His smile was tiny, barely there, but understanding, and when she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her. "It just makes it too easy to get hurt."

He nodded, eyes kind. "'M glad I make you feel like you can relax."

She hardly shrugged as he turned to her, leaning on his hand on the countertop. "Yeah." A small smile graced her lips as she eyed his expression, and she bit her lip. "I guess there are worse things, huh?"

His laugh made her nervous gaze soften. "Aw, sugar, you're too kind," he said, the mocking sarcasm in his voice balanced out by how gentle his grin was. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said softly, and he plastered on a mock pout. "I'm not building up your ego any more, alright? I'm not sure it has any room to grow."

"I wouldn't mind you makin' me just a little bit more conceited, now."

She finally turned all the way to him, putting down the dishcloth she'd been using for drying, and despite herself, the affection in the way he was looking back down at her made her heart flutter. "If you're looking for blind adoration, you should've figured out by now that I'm not the girl for that."

"No, you really aren't, are you?" Though her words had been pointed, had come with the intention to knock him back down a peg, his low voice was far, far from contemptuous. Her eyebrows jumped when he took a step toward her, taking her chin in his hand to lift her face to his before bending down to meet her where she stood, his confident lips gentle against hers. "You're so much more than that," he murmured, not pulling away enough to even look her in the eye, their noses brushing together.

Though she hesitated, it was a moment later that Y/N took a step forward to meet him halfway, her tentative touch rising up the stiff material of his shirt and to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, and their lips met once again.

The patience in his every move was new to her, inconsistent with the raw desire that usually governed his actions. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, her mouth parted in a soft moan, and he took the opportunity for what it was, wasting little time in pressing his tongue teasingly against hers. He was holding her close, but she was arched fully up against him regardless of it, wanting to feel the movement of his body against hers. Both her arms looped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

The kiss was deep, intimate, but not harsh, and when his mouth moved to the skin of her neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed with her silent sigh as his hands moved down to grip the backs of her thighs. She couldn't help her surprise at how effortless it was for him to pick her up, to lift her onto the counter she'd been standing in front of. She groaned when his lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, all but going limp in his grasp.

"Thomas," she whined, wrapping her legs more tightly around him to anchor his hips against hers, grinding against his hard body.

"Come home with me," he muttered into her neck, and though she gasped at the feeling of his teeth scraping against her, she pulled back to look him in the eye, raising his head to hers with a hand in his curls.

"What?" she whispered, chest heaving, and he pressed another soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

"Come home with me," he repeated, looking into her wide eyes.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her hesitance, and she took a deep breath. "Thomas, I live upstairs; if you wanna stay, I... I definitely wouldn't mind that, but--"

She cut herself off at his skeptical hum, and he said, "Listen, I almost got caught tryin' to sneak outta here in the morning last Saturday, and I'm not tryna have a repeat of that, alright? Just come back to my place." One of his hands lifted from her thigh to weave itself into her hair, holding her head by her nape as he kissed her, more intently that time. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."

She swallowed. "Pull your car around the back."

---------

It was hours later that Y/N found herself lying exhausted on satin sheets, slumped in a penthouse just across the river and high above the city. Thomas hadn't been lying about making the most of her time; his hands had seldom left her skin from the moment she entered his passenger seat, dragging her quickly past the doorman on the first floor of his building, pinning her against the wall of the elevator for a heated, fleeting moment before he'd finally tugged her the rest of the way to his apartment.

She was wrapped in his covers up to her chest, feeling just on the wrong end of self-conscious, but her clothes were rumpled and sprawled across every corner of the rooms they had to pass to reach his bed. They hadn't been overly concerned with where the outfit ended up, just that it wasn't on her skin. Every joint in her body was already sore, and she groaned as she tried to sit up, leaning against his headboard as Thomas returned to her with a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, and he couldn't help but grin at how hoarse she sounded as he handed her the cup.

"'Course, sweetheart." He came to sit beside her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, and she took a long sip of the water, nearly draining all of it in one gulp. "You alright? Everything still feeling okay?"

"I'm exhausted, and my ass hurts like a bitch," she griped, but when he raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "But I'm all good. Might have to bill you for the truckload of concealer I'll need to cover up all these fucking marks, but I'm fine."

"Good." He squeezed her thigh lightly when she leaned against his side, her legs bent and knees pulled in toward her chest. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against himself with a small smile.

"Can't believe I didn't know you live in the same building as Lafayette, though," she mumbled, and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, he actually lives just across the hall. When he came back from France lookin' for a place to live, I thought it'd be fun if we were neighbors, and he took me up on it pretty easily."

She hummed her acknowledgment. "So that means, when Lafayette showed up half an hour late to your lunch date and I was there instead, that it would've taken you all of five seconds just to go home?"

He laughed. "Now, what exactly are you accusin' me of?"

"Being a pain in my ass two weeks ago," she grumbled, and he shrugged, wearing a small, self-contented smile and not bothering to argue with her.

"You didn't seem to mind me bein' a pain in your ass last night." He raised a smug eyebrow, and she scowled, turning her head to break the eye contact. She disregarded the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks.

"You say 'last night' as though we didn't get back here less than four hours ago."

"Don't pretend you don't get the picture."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked when he kissed the top of her hair. She looked down at the cup she held against her chest. "Is it cool if I stay over?"

"'Course. I don't want you gettin' in an Uber with some creep in the middle of the city at this time of night."

"Mm, but you had no problem with me getting in a Bentley with some creep in the middle of the city four hours ago?"

Despite the teasing bite to her words, he grinned. "Hey, now, I'm just sayin' you gotta be selective about which creeps you're lettin' drive you around at all hours."

"I mean, you haven't killed me yet, so I'd call that a point in your favor." She yawned, reaching over to put the glass he'd given her on his bedside table. "We should get some sleep. It's late, and I'm sure you have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"Alright, sweetheart." She pushed herself forward from the headboard, laying back onto the pillow she'd been leaning on, holding it close to her head as he reached over to turn off the lamplight before joining her under the covers. "G'night."

"Night, T."

They fell asleep almost immediately in one another's arms.

------------

5:17 AM

From: [email protected]

Y/N--

I’m glad you reached out. Your writing’s excellent as always, but if there’s information you want, you’ve very much come to the right place. I’ve worked with Thomas for years, and though they left me dismayed, I’ve become quite familiar with the not-so-shining moments in his background.

I’d rather not put anything in writing should someone find this communication. Let’s find a somewhat private place to meet. Be sure to bring a recorder and a notepad. Believe me when I say you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.

John Adams

353 notes · View notes

cryptidsandcatacombs · 3 years

Text

listen sleep is irrelevant when there are vampires around a corporeal form what is that my needs of the flesh lol what are those

Ship: Noe Archiviste/S/I Rating: very adult anyone under the age of 18 skidaddle no srsly it's all nsfw smut from here no minors are allowed to read. All nsfw under the cut srsly do not read if you're a minor

Summary: Listen I'm not saying I'm horny for Noe Archiviste and I decided to make a self insert fic powered by that horny and make it everyone's problem BUT IDK you guys can decide for yourself whether i'm lying or not yall graduated high school, so yall have an adult level of reading comprehension. You guys got this. I'm rooting for you and so are my 10000 horny thoughts. This fic is brought to you by the sound of your past mistake chasing you. Remember. Ever day is leg day when you're running from your problems.

Also very highly self indulgent. Don't read if you don't like self inserts who are incredibly horny for certain people....or am I? Who knows.

Note: my s/i is a trans guy with all the feminine parts still attached. just needed to clear that up Copper. That's all Noe could smell. Being this close to Oz had an effect on him. One that drew him into a haze of nearly drug induced ambrosia. Gods how it made him dizzy in the most pleasant ways.

Oz unbuttoned the top of his shirt and gave him a slight smile. "Well, what you staring at," Oz said in a flirty tone.

Noe gulped going between Oz's purple eyes, chest and finally his neck. Fuck he was avoiding the neck. He felt like a Victorian virgin whose never seen a bit of skin before. Noe just felt Oz was so...exposed. It drove him crazy.

"Listen," Oz said interrupting Noe's haze, "I know what you're thinking. Well, what you waiting for. It's not like I'm saying no."

Noe was taken aback. Was Oz offering himself to him. No, it can't be. It can't be that easy. Who would offer themselves to a vampire?

"Oh or is the big bad vampire scared? I promise Noe, I've been wanting this for so long," Oz said through labored breath. Oz pulled down his shirt exposing his chest. "Please Noe, will you deny what we both clearly have been longing for. Partake onto me my love."

Noe's body moved closer to Oz than he already was. His lips grazed close to Oz's pulse. He can practically feel it throbbing with excitement.

Oz craned his neck to help Noe find a spot. Noe grazed his teeth experimentally to find the one spot that made Oz moan.

"There... no not there....wait where....," Noe thought to himself as he prodded around Oz's neck.

Suddenly, he heard that moan he had been looking for. Perfect.

He bit a little further. He looked up to see Oz's reaction.

Oz was panting wildly, face several shades dark with a violent, lustful blush. God, it was bliss to look upon.

"Please...." Oz said in a tone that Noe could have sworn was begging. If there was any doubts before, they were gone with his reserves.

Noe plunged his fangs further into Oz's tender, soft flesh. Noe shuddered at the feeling of Oz running his fingers through Noe's hair. God, it was heaven.(edited)

"Please, don't stop..." Oz said panting and moaning.

Noe tasted the blood that pooled onto his tongue. He grabbed Oz closer pulling him onto his lap. The effect Oz had on him was beyond addiction, beyond lust. It was an obsession he couldn't quit.

He had waited for this day for so long. It's what kept him up at night in a cold sweat and it invaded his dreams. However, all those dreams ended in a nightmare. Oz lying cold and deceased in his arms from not being able to simply stop. Blood run dry by his own hands. Tears streaming down his face by what he's done. He couldn't bare to act on his need to suck Oz's blood out of fear he may not be able to stop himself.

But dear god, how he wanted this so bad. So bad he's so happy he's tasting it now.

Noe suddenly push Oz down onto the couch they were sitting on. Oz's back fell to the couch, Noe pressed against him.

Noe dug himself deeper into Oz. Oz spread his legs to further accommodate him. This only encouraged Noe. His fangs dug further into Oz's pulsating flesh as he ground his ever swelling boner against Oz's crotch. Noe partook in Oz's blood like a dying man who hasn't seen food in days.

Oz began to grind back, moaning and whimpering gripping Noe's clothes for dear life.

Noe released his fangs from Oz's neck causing Oz to stare back curiously wondering why Noe stopped. The answer came in the form and Noe unbuttoning his shirt.

"So hot..," Noe managed to pant out, "Can't breathe."

Noe quickly, with deft precision, unbuttoned and took off his shirt revealing a sight Oz couldn't help but stare at disrespectfully and objectify to filth as he's done so many times in his sexual fantasies.

"Hey you ok," Noe asked noticing staring as Oz was not subtle and also thirstier than the most dehydrated man lost in the desert.

"Oh, yes I am. I just always thought you were very sexy. God, you're beautiful," Oz said blushing head to toe.

Noe's cool broke and he started blushing too. "T-thanks," he managed to squeak out.

Oz giggled at Noe's flustered reaction. Oz lifted his hand to Noe's face to calm him.

Noe stared down at Oz's face. It was almost magical seeing Oz's disheveled stated. Blood dripping down Oz's neck, shirt wrinkled cascading down his nearly exposed breasts, eyes and face filled with wanting. Noe touched Oz's hand that was still on his face. This wasn't a dream. God, this was better than one.

Noe couldn't help what he did next.

Noe lowered himself on top of Oz. Noe and Oz's noses practically met they were so close. A mix of being so close and Noe's hot breath against Oz's skin made Oz turn away flustered.

Noe placed his fingers under Oz's chin to keep his face where he needed it to be. Noe slowly and sensually placed his lips upon Oz's. Oz returned the kiss just as slow and soft.

Noe ran his fingers through Oz's hair as he pressed his lips harder against Oz's. Oz returned the favor running his fingers down Noe's exposed back. The sensation made Noe shiver and moan as he ran his tongue against Oz's lips. The kisses became laced with moans as Noe pulled on Oz's shirt.

Noe parted from the kiss with panting. "Take your clothes off," said pulling on Oz's shirt.

Oz did what he was told. Noe stared in fascination as his eyes partook in every length of the increasing exposure of Oz's skin. Noe suddenly became aware of the grating ache of his own erection. He would have taken his own pants if he wasn't so afraid it'd embarrass Oz at this moment.

With the last article of Oz's clothing gone, Oz turned away embarrassed by Noe's stare. Oz had trouble finding himself attractive, but Noe would beg to differ.

As if reading his mind, Noe turned Oz's face towards him. Noe gave Oz a kind smile. One that Oz always fell in love with over and over again.

Noe leaned into Oz's face. He gently put his hand on Oz's cheek, rubbing his thumb across it. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

"Thank you," Oz said blushing. "You're amazing Noe. I love you so much."

Noe smiled hearing those words. He had longed to hear them for so long even though he had heard them in many ways in his imagination and dreams. Nothing compared to how he heard it coming from Oz's own lips.

"I love you too Oz. More than I could ever explain," Noe said barely above a whisper.

Noe once again took Oz's lips onto his own as he pressed Oz back onto the couch again.

Noe once again placed himself between Oz's legs once again becoming aware of his aching erection.

"I-I'm sorry, mind if I..." Noe said lifting himself off Oz. Noe place his hands around the button his pants to gesture what he wanted to do.

"Mind if you what," Oz asked.

Noe was taken aback with that question. "God Oz, you better be glad you're cute at times like these," Noe thought to himself.

"My pants," Noe stuttered out, "Mind if I take them off."

"Oh yeah sure," Oz said immediately, "Why wouldn't I want you to?"

"I don't know. Anxiety told me I shouldn't because you might not like it," Noe said now fully embarrassed.

Oz bit his lip and ran his fingers through his own hair. "Listen, I want this I promise you. More than I have ever admitted to you."

Noe whipped his head back to Oz now fully intrigued. "Really," he asked without hesitation.

Oz nodded covering his face.

Suddenly, Noe placed his fingers on Oz's pussy to find it wet beyond what he thought it would be. The sensation of Noe's fingers down there made him gasp and moan as he curled his toes inwardly.

Noe kissed Oz's neck around the same spot he bit to tease him further. "How long have you been thinking of me like this," Noe asked as he rubbed Oz's wetness a little harder. Noe's thumb reached for the clit to tease him further.

Electric pleasure surged through Oz's body in such an overwhelming way that he couldn't talk. All that came out were squeaks and moans. The stimulation was killing him.

"Now now, that's not what I asked," Noe whispered in Oz's ear. "Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you've been thinking of me." Noe breath hitched as he managed to shudder out his next words,"and please don't' skimp on the details."

Oz wriggled under Noe's touched as he to rub the same way. Noe's brow furrowed realizing Oz wasn't going to talk unless Noe made him. Noe took his thumb away from Oz's clit. An action that made Oz whimper from its absence.

"Now now, I'll give you what you want once you give daddy what he wants," Noe growled out, his voice dropping to such an octave it seemed like it came from somewhere deep in his chest.

Oz's lip quivered as he struggled to tell him. God where to begin.

"Well, I had a fantasy similar to this. I'm alone with you in your place. You get so close to me and bite me sucking my blood because you can't take it anymore. The need making you so feral it hurts. Then you fuck me so hard I can't walk straight for a few days," Oz said blushing turning away so flustered by describing his sexual fantasies.

Noe blushed harder than he thought he would hearing someone think of him that way. He never thought he'd find anyone who thought of him that way. Confidence suddenly rising within him, he teasingly placed his hand upon Oz's thigh, hovering just above the spot he needed Noe's hand to be.

"Really and how often do you think of me in such a....sinful manner," he said voice heavy with lust straining against taking Oz right then and there.

"More than you can imagine," Oz admitted daring not to look Noe in the eye.

Noe's breath came out ragged hearing that. Noe's fingers grazed harder into Oz's thighs. He suddenly remembered he never took his pants off. They were officially killing him from how hard his cock was straining against them now.

Noe furiously tore them away revealing all of himself to Oz. Oz's eyes took Noe in fully, trying not to stare at his dick too long. Oz stared back up at Noe's. Noe leaned in close to Oz.

"What," Oz squeaked out.

"Were you staring," Noe asked.

Oz nodded blushing 500 shades darker than he thought he would.

Noe blushed along with Oz. "I-uh I hope I look ok," Noe said rubbing the back of his neck eyes darting to uncertain places. Places he will never admit but fortunately the writer is tattle tale and those places were Oz's tits. You're welcome.

Oz smiled and kissed Noe's cheek. "You look amazing. You're so beautiful," Oz said whispering against Noe's cheek.

Noe turned back to Oz's eyes. God, Noe considered himself the luckiest bastard on Earth right now and so did Oz. They felt so lucky to be in each other's presence right now, wanting each other in mutual lust.

Noe and Oz pressed their lips against each other for another kiss as Noe slid his hands down Oz's thigh and onto his clit once more.

Oz moaned wildly into the kiss as Noe pressed rubbed it harder and faster.

"S-stop..t-t--too mUCH,"Oz managed to squeak out.

"Ssshh sshh it's ok. You're so close. I just want to feel you cum once. Or tell me where you want it by precious boy," Noe whispered reading the vibes.

Oz, with much hesitance, pushed Noe's fingers towards Oz's dripping vaginal hole.

"P-please," Oz moaned.

Noe nodded as he dipped two fingers in. Oz dug his fingers into the couch cushion as Noe thrust his fingers in and out.

"Better," Noe asked checking in on Oz to see if he was doing ok.

"Yes oh gods yes," Oz said through his moans and pants.

Noe took this as a sign to go harder and deeper. Noe dug deeper trying to find the spot that would make Oz scream. Noe managed to find it with the sound of Oz's gasp.

"There," Oz said barely audible.

"There," Noe asked as he thrust his fingers harder onto that same spot.

Oz's toes curled and dug into the couch. His nail dug and scraped against Noe's back, driving him insane. Gods, Noe wasn't sure how much of this he could take before he took Oz like an animal in heat.

Noe, wanting to speed up the process before his own orgasm denial drove him to madness, kissed and teased around Oz's tits and nipple. Oz ran his fingers through Noe's hair encouraging him. Noe moaned at the sensation of Oz doing this. Curse the fact he was so tender headed.

Noe sucked on one of Oz's tits as his fingers thrust into Oz's spot harder feeling Oz on the edge of cumming.

With a final moan and gasp, Noe finally felt Oz cum around his fingers. Noe suddenly became self aware how hot and sweaty he felt at this moment.

He needed Oz now.

Noe took in Oz's blissed out, post orgasm face. Noe bathed in the sight. He couldn't believe Oz came for him of all people. Fantasized about him doing this to him. The thought of it made Noe's dick twitch with need.

Noe turned Oz's face towards him once more as he took him into another kiss. Sliding both hands down to Oz's hips, he pulled Oz forward so Noe's dick was at Oz's entrance.

Noe lifted Oz's legs higher onto his back so he can get a good angle.

"Ready," Noe asked looking for Oz's consent.

Oz nodded. "Please....fuck me please...."

That was the last thread that was cut for Noe. He ceased to be a man with reserves or gentleness at that point.

Noe dug his fingers into Oz's hips as he pulled Oz's body forward and thrust his throbbing cock in roughly. More roughly than he thought he would.

Oz moaned feeling himself squeeze around the sudden intrusion. God it felt amazing to him.

Noe panted, heart pounding at the new sensation he had never felt before. Oz was so tight around him. He could get drunk off this feeling for the rest of eternity.

"You ok," Noe asked checking to see if Oz was hurting or if it was too overstimulating.

"Yes. It feels amazing. I need you please please please," Oz said running his fingers through his own hair becoming overwhelmed with pleasure.

Noe nodded taking this as a sign he's allowed to move. Noe steadied himself, hand hooking around the back of Oz's head, other hand on Oz's hip. He began to thrust slowly and deeply trying to find a pace they both liked.

Oz's moans became progressively loud reaching in harmony with Noe's own moans. Both Oz and Noe's nails dug into each other with each motion.

Noe reached down and began to scrape his fangs against Oz's neck. Oz tilted his head back to expose himself more. Noe found another good spot and plunged his fangs into Oz's flesh once more.

As Oz's blood pooled onto Noe's tongue, he began to thrust harder. Oz moaned louder gripping Noe's hair. Noe moaned from the feeling of Oz tugging on his hair. He lifted Oz's lower body higher and began to thrust deeper and harder.

Noe ran his fingers through Oz's hair, pulling Oz's hair roughly. Noe released his fangs from Oz's neck. His teeth scraped and traveled other places on Oz's neck leaving deep, dark love bites all over.

Oz's legs began to buckle and shake from all of this happening at once. Nails dug further into Noe's skin.

"Oh gods don't stop fuck don't stop," Oz moaned and panted out.

Noe picked up the pace, thrusting harder until Oz screamed.

Oz became barely audible at this point feeling himself on the edge of cumming.

"Oz, you're so close. I can feel it," Noe panted out feeling himself getting close too.

"Don't stop. I'm gonna cum," Oz said just before biting down on Noe's shoulder.

Noe gasped and bit harder into Oz's neck. Noe had no idea being the one getting bit would turn him on too. Well noted.

With a few hard thrusts, Noe felt Oz cumming around him with Noe cumming with him.

Noe took a few moment to compose himself and then collapsed on top of Oz. The room was only filled with exhausted pants coming from both parties.

"So, how was that for you," Noe asked.

"Amazing. What about you," Oz asked in return.

"That was incredible," Noe said kissing the nearest parts his lips could reach before giving him a soft peck on the lips.

Noe pulled himself out of Oz, watching the stream of cum drip from Oz's hole. The sight made him shiver with arousal. Little did he know, Oz loved the sensation of it too.

In both their minds, they decided one round wasn't enough.

But it was Noe who made the first advance. Noe picked Oz up off the couch.

"How about we do this again, but this time on the bed where we can cuddle and have more room," Noe said holding her close.

"Ok," Oz said leaning his ear into Noe's chest feeling his heart pounding from excitement.

Noe settled Oz down onto the bed, moonlight beaming down into the room. "Thank you Oz my little moonbeam. I love you so much," Noe said pulling Oz towards him.

"I love you too little starlight," Oz said as Noe pulled Oz in for another kiss.

This was going to be a long night.

#self indulgent fics

13 notes · View notes

istgimamess · 3 years

Text

Reaction: [ S t r a y K i d s ] finding out their s/o is a [ S u p e r n a t u r a l C r e a t u r e ]

"...hi it's the anon from yesterday! so I'm not sure what way you do your reactions but something i haven't seen yet but would like to is a reaction to finding out that either their s/o or friend, whichever you'd prefer, is a supernatural creature (like werewolf, fae, witch, shape shifter, mermaid, demon, angel, anything really) for stray kids!

let me know if I didn't give you info that you need for a reaction or... if there are any problems with my request, I'm kind of shooting blindly since you don't have rules or anything right? so yea, i hope this is fine tho..."

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ C h a n ] finds out you’re an [ A n g e l ]

His initial reaction: [ C o n c e r n e d ]

^ he’s logical, fair and patient—he’s known for having a logical minds and a fair judgment. He strives for fairness and justice constantly. This makes him a wonderful mediator. He’ll analyze every situation with his little legal eagle brain and logical mind; with the help of that he can organize all things well and eliminate the irrelevant. So when you finally admit to being an angel, show him your wings, he’ll most like keep quiet.

^ also, he’s a great listener—he’ll most definitely listen to your side of the story before making any irrational decisions about your relationship. This goes back to his logical, fair and patient way of thinking; he’ll most likely just sit there quietly and let you do the talking, the explaining. ^ he soaks up all the ideas and information around him like a big brainy sponge. He hates conflicts and confrontations and always watches his words while communicating, talking in a way as to not offend you. When he finally does say something, his words will be well thought out, calculated.

^ he always knows a lot more than he lets on, most likely he already knew you were abnormal—a bit different—from the very start of your relationship. And he was just waiting for you to get comfortable enough to admit it to him, to officially let him in on the secret.

^ he’s very understanding. He’s very thoughtful and interprets things that most people miss out on. This will be beneficial to you when you begin to try and explain to him why you kept this a huge secret for such a long time. He’ll see that it, your unwillingness to tell anybody your origin story, has nothing to do with him not being worthy of knowing. He won’t take it personally.

^ he’ll tell you like it is, straight up, because he’s an honest and upfront person. He’ll wait until you’ve finished explaining and when you question him on his thoughts and feelings in the moment, he won’t sugar coat it—which can be both good and bad.

^ but, also, he can smell bullshit from a mile away. If you omit any significant details, or lie in any way, he will catch on almost instantly. And he won’t be happy.

^ he’s loyal to the bone and fiercely protective of you; finding out you’re an angel won’t change that. If anything, he’ll feel even more protective of both you and your secret. ^ he’ll forgive but never forget. Even though he won’t show it on the surface, he’ll be extremely hurt that it took you so long to tell him. Logically he knows it has nothing to do with him, but emotionally it will feel like you just don’t trust him enough. He’ll forgive you for keeping such a monumental secret, but he’ll never forget that feeling. But once he listens to your story, does his own research, his concern for you will outweigh those hurt feelings.

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

“So I did some research,” he trailed off, you jerked at the echo of his voice in the otherwise silent room.

“Research? On what?” you gaze over at him, not quite meeting his eyes.

“You. Well, angel’s in general, but mostly you.” his voice is much lower, the silence drags on for a moment too long. It’s suddenly stifling.

“And?” you breath out, still caught off guard.

“What does Éloa mean?” he questions, taking a step around the bed to face you, get a better look. You narrowed your gaze, heart suddenly in your throat. How did he find that name? Did he know? Was he just testing you? You take a deep breath, eyes dropping down to the carpet beneath his bare feet. You decide to just answer him, literally. “It’s the name of an angel.” He tilts his head, contemplatively. And there is something dangerous in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “I’ve never heard of him.” “You wouldn’t have.” you pull the blanket closer to you, resisting the sudden urge to spread your wings, stretch them wide and flee. “Was he a fallen angel?” his eyes are darker now, assessing, he definitely knows. You know he knows. So why wasn’t he saying? “She was, yes.” you hesitate, not wanting to give too much of your past away, but unable to stop yourself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.” “Tricked her how?” he was still standing above you, he wouldn’t approach you, hasn’t since the night he caught you in full form. You meet his gaze. “She fell in love with him.” His eyes narrowed, his face pulled into a grimace. How disgusting must it feel to find out your girlfriend is not only a fallen angel, but also a fallen angel who was once in love with Lucifer. You shrink, your wings drawing in closer to your body. “Did he love her?” Like an addict loves his addiction, you think, bitterly.. “The only way he knew how.” He must have been able to see the pain in your eyes because, for a moment, pure concern crossed his features. He shook his head, schooling his expression once again. “How could he trick her?” “He never told her his name.” you whisper, your voice breaking. And suddenly he wasn’t across the room, standing above you at a distance—he was right in front of you, knee on the bed, arms around your shoulders. “Shhh, it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it now.” He reached forward to cup your cheek, the touch surprising you. "Please understand that no matter what you are or what has happened in your past, I am yours. I am devoted to you above all else, including my own life."

You exhaled after holding your breath for what felt like forever, tears spilling over in excess. "That's pretty heavy, Chan." His expression was impassioned, and the backs of his fingers brushed the side of your neck, thumbs wiping away the wetness on your cheeks. "It is a burden I am glad to carry.” ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ C h a n g b i n ] finds out you’re a [ W e r e w o l f ]

His initial reaction: [ C u r i o u s ] ^ he’s kind and protective. He feels responsible and is always willing to help you out when you’re in need. He will go to great lengths to make sure that you feel loved and you’re happy. He will always stand up for the underdog, (no werewolf pun intended.) This is beneficial to you because his compassionate heart will win out over his logical mindset.

^ he’s extremely loyal. If there’s one trait imbedded in him, it is his loyalty. He physically won’t be able to turn his back on you—werewolf or not.

^ he’s also very honest. He tends to be extremely direct and straightforward with you. He gives honest feedback to you when you ask for it. He would never speak a white lie just to avoid conflict, or be deemed reasonable, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him bottling up his true thoughts, opinions and emotions on the subject.

^ that being said, his honesty often comes off as excessive bluntness. Therefore, at first, you might catch some heat in that department.

^ he, at times, can be very inflexible. When he has committed to something, in this case a way of thinking, he’ll fight tooth and nail to stick to that way of thinking. Regardless of how much proof he has in front of him, it will be difficult to convince him otherwise—especially when he grew up believing that werewolves were myth, not real.

^ once he has a significant amount of proof, though, he’ll be insanely curious on the matter and his crazy sense of humor will resurface.

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

“Wait, are you an alpha? An omega? Do you turn when you feel threatened?” his wide eyes, his random questioning—it all catches you off guard.

“I’m considered a dominant amongst my pack. And, yes, I guess I would if I felt threatened.” you nod slowly, holding his gaze. You’re the werewolf here, the freak of nature, but this boy—this human—is the weird one.

“What’s a dominant? Are they more important than a submissive?” he crawls closer to you, his jeans catching on the carpet beneath you.

“Not necessarily. A submissive wolf is not incapable of protecting themselves: they can fight, they can kill as readily as any other. They are a treasure in a pack, just as important. A source of purpose and of balance.” you catch yourself quoting your great grandmother, the very first female dominant in your pack, a rare, smart, capable wolf.

“Then why does the dominant wolf exist? If a submissive wolf is just as capable, just as important, why make the distinction?” he interjects, your baffled at his level of curiosity.

“Because even through submissives are just as capable and important, they’re very different. It’s a dominants job to protect those beneath them.” you pause momentarily, watch a multitude of expressions cross his face. “Protecting a submissive is far more rewarding because a submissive will never wait until you are wounded or your back is turned to see if you are truly dominant to them. Submissive wolves can be trusted. And they unite the pack with the goal of keeping them safe and cared for.”

There is a long moment where you just stare at each other, his eyes glazed over, a childlike expression on his face. “So you’re a werewolf trapped in a human body?”

You stifle a laugh, unable to control your facial expression. "Well, yeah, that's kind of the definition."

"No, really. You’re trapped?” his eyes widen slightly, he leans forward, anticipating your answer.

"Oh? Are you trying to ask me the last time I shifted?" you voice, confusion written all over your face.

“Yes.” he nods enthusiastically. You briefly debate telling him about the traffic incident, but ultimately decide against lying.

“On your birthday.” you admit, sheepishly. “There was a lot of traffic and I was running late.” you trail off, suddenly awkward. But then he laughs, big and loud, throwing his head back.

“That’s so cool! I want to be a werewolf. How do I get a werewolf to attack me?" he smiles wide. And you roll your eyes, shake your head in pseudo disappointment. “Stand in the middle of a forest under a full moon with a raw steak tied to your face, holding a sign that says, 'Eat me; I'm stupid'?”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ H y u n j i n ] finds out you’re a [ M e r m a i d ]

His initial reaction: [ P r a c t i c e d ]

^ he’s very empathetic with a lively imagination and a friendly disposition. He has a boundless capacity for empathy even with those who he barely sees eye to eye with. This is great for you because, even if he is initially angry that you kept such a secret from him, he’ll still empathize with your situation, your story.

^ he’s more emotional than your average guy. He is intune and prone to the infectious emotion of those around him. If he see tears, he will likely cry. If he can sense hurt in your voice, it will sadden him also.

^ he will love you unconditionally no matter what or who you are. ^ he’s selfless and generous. No matter how big the secret, how hurt he is from your omission, he will always be there when you need someone. Because he is so practiced in the idea that he can’t live without you, he will always show up when you need him.

^ that being said, because of his idealistic nature, you can often find him walking alone. He can be overly trusting and it often leaves him feeling betrayed, hurt and vulnerable. He might view your lack of openness, truthfulness, as a betrayal within your relationship. And that might make conversation with him, for a while, very stilted. He’ll seem impassive at first, but he will eventually warm back up to you.

^ he’s not one to give up easily. He puts in the work to get what he wants in life and he won’t let it slide away without a fight. He won’t let you go over something like this, not after he’s just got you.

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

There, with bare feet and drenched hair, you were crouched like a child. Upon hearing him approach, you looked up, peered into his dark, hesitant eyes. You wore only an enormous men’s sweater, his sweater—with no extravagant pattern or color, the sweater was a dull beige. Your knees were pulled up inside of it, thin pale ankles peeking out from underneath. The wool sweater alone was dry, as the rest of your head, hands, and feet were as wet as if you’d just been pulled from drowning. Tiny rivers flowed off your hair and pooled on the wool sweater, leaving it dark in splotches. Water droplets glistened on your skin, not running off, as though they couldn’t quite bear to leave you. His eyes held yours in a way his hands did not. His empathetic gaze schooled, his expression practiced, controlled.

“So...a mermaid?” you twist your head the other direction, his voice breaking your concentration momentarily. At this he took a sudden step forward, as if compelled. He had caught a glimpse of pink gills under your chin, his busy eyes dancing along your neck with a new found curiosity. You became overwhelmingly self conscious, tucking your chin, keeping your neck hidden from his view. It had always taken your gills longer to disappear than your tail.

“My mother told me stories of mermaids. She said they sometimes sing to humans to lure them underwater.” his voice trailed off, momentarily. “But you have a horrible voice.” your gaze snaps up, catching the mischievous look in his eye, his grin.

His teasing catches you off guard, you fumble with your words, “Yeah, well...I've been practicing. Want to hear?” you glare at him, halfheartedly.

He lets out a soft laugh, “I'm always happy when I'm surrounded by water, I think I'm a Mermaid too...or at least, I was a mermaid in a past life.” he crouches down, he’s much closer to you now.

“Are you in pain?” you choke out, the idea of him hurting, in any way, unbearable to you. You don’t know why you asked that, he’s obviously just joking—keeping a steady conversation with you, trying to keep you calm.

“Pain? Why would I be in—” he trails off, eyes snapping in your direction. “Wait, are you in pain?” the absolute, genuine concern in his voice has you pulling up short. Your breathing shallow.

“Mermaids hurt when we’re in human form.” you admit, quietly, eyes glued to the rocks on the horizon.

“But...but you never look like you’re in pain, you’re always smiling, always so...graceful—” he cuts himself off abruptly, eyes narrowed. It’s as if he’s angry at himself for not catching on to your discomfort much sooner. “What does it feel like?”

“When your tail divides and shrinks until it becomes legs, it’s very painful. It feels as if a sharp sword is slashing through you. Everyone who sees a mermaid on legs will say that they are the most graceful human being they’ve ever laid eyes on—” you remember, vividly, all the times you were complemented for your gliding movement; not even a seasoned dancer is able to tread as lightly as you. “But every step you take feels as if you are treading upon knife blades so sharp that blood must flow.”

There is silence, the ocean waves brushing against the sand, caressing the shore—it’s the only noise you hear for a moment.

“Then shall I take you home and put you in the bathtub?” his unsystematic question is enough to pull you out of your thoughts completely, his brand of humor easily calming you in your panicked state. You’re suddenly very thankful.

“How do you always know just what to say?" you ask, a smile on your lips. His laugh rumbles through you as he puts his arm around your damp shoulders. "Practice, I guess."

You pull back and give him a quizzical look.

"I spent three years imagining what I would say to you if you were mine," he says, tugging you closer. “I should hope I know what to say now that I've finally got you.” ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ J i s u n g ] finds out you’re a [ D e m o n ]

His initial reaction: [ B e w i l d e r e d ]

^ he’s very intelligent and he’s always ready to expand his knowledge reserves. He usually has a systematic approach to life, he always ensures that he doesn’t miss any loophole behind. So when he finds out about you being a demon, he’s both bewildered and inquisitive.

^ he’s usually very calm and collected on the surface. But underneath he has a great intensity that demands he bring order to his world. He struggles with the need to rearrange his frantic interior beneath the calm exterior until everything is perfect. This might make him seem more freaked out, frightened, than he actually is.

^ he is highly patient with you and always tries to find the good in everything around him. So in reality, even though he initially seems frazzled at your confession, he will actually give you enough time to fix up your act—explain yourself—when need be.

^ he can, at times, be very judgmental. He tends to appraise and judge people based on one particular viewpoint in that person’s life—especially if he doesn’t know that person well enough. That being said, your relationship is solid enough to outlast his initial judgment.

^ he can also be very fussy, as sometimes he gets lost in the details. His strong likes and dislikes make him quite finicky at first. And he’ll definitely feel some type of way that you kept him in the dark for so long. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ All the demons of Hell formerly reigned as gods in previous cultures. No it's not fair, but one man's god is another man's devil. As each subsequent civilization became a dominant power, among its first acts was to depose and demonize whoever the previous culture had worshipped. The Jews attacked Belial, the god of the Babylonians. The Christians banished Pan and Loki, the respective deities of the ancient Greeks and Celts. The Anglican British banned belief in the Australian aboriginal spirits known as the Mimi. Satan is depicted with cloven hooves because Pan had them, and he carries a pitchfork based on the trident carried by Neptune. As each deity was deposed, it was relegated to Hell. For gods so long accustomed to receiving tribute and loving attention, of course this status shift put them into a foul mood.

And when Hell, itself, was in a foul mood, demons—specifically the ones planted here on earth—got the brunt of it. So to say you were in a bad mood would be an understatement. In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision on your part to agree to speak with Jisung about your origins in that moment.

“It’s not fair.” his voice wavers, the emotional confrontation taking a toll on him.

“What, that I’m a demon or that you managed to date me?” you bit out, tersely. “Don’t.” his voice was abruptly dark.

“No, you’re right, it’s not fair—but what makes earth feel like Hell is your expectation that it should feel like Heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. Good is rarely good and bad is always bad. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. It won’t help the situation for you to get all upset.” you snap back at him, voice just as dark.

‘‘What’s that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me now?” his eyes narrow.

“How miserably hypocritical,” you respond with a growl. “You think it’s such a burden for you to be tricked into dating the devils servant? What about the burden of me being me?” your voice is much lower now, your practically spitting venom in his direction. “No sooner am I offered a chance to flee Hell than I yearn to stay.”

“I didn’t want this.” his dark eyes, his bewildered gaze reflecting a huge amount of regret.

“Few families hold their relations as closely as do prisons. Few marriages sustain the high level of passion that exists between criminals and those who seek to bring them to justice. It’s no wonder the Zodiac Killer flirted so relentlessly with the police. Or that Jack the Ripper courted and baited detectives with his—or her—coy letters. We all wish to be pursued. We all long to be desired. That’s what I did, I pursued you, I desired you. Anything beyond that is your fault.” you turn, ready to flee out the door, the overwhelming urge to hurt something, someone, frightening you.

“My fault!? Is it my fault that I want you? That I want that feeling of standing with you against all odds and succeeding? That I want it so bad, I’d risk destroying everything I’ve worked for?” he spits at your back, crossing the room in a long stride to block your path to the door. “Is that my fault? I should walk away. But all I want to do is follow you, out that door, down the street, all the way back to hell.” his fists are clenched, his face red, you’ve never seen him so frustrated—with you or himself. “What the hell am I doing, falling in love with a demon?” His sudden confession almost knocks you from your feet. Anger and confusion painting his face.

“You love me?” you whisper in a fit of shock.

“Yes.” he whispers right back, voice matching yours, as if his own confession shocked him as well.

“Enough to follow me all the way to hell?” you’re baffled.

“Well, according to Google, 98.3 percent of lawyers end up in Hell. That's in contrast to the 23 percent of farmers who are eternally damned. Some 45 percent of retail business owners are Hellbound, and 85 percent of computer software writers.” he hums to himself, pausing in thought. “Perhaps a trace number of musicians ascend to Heaven, but statistically speaking, 100 percent of them are cast into the fiery pit. As are essentially 100 percent of journalists and redheads.” he finishes with a satisfied nod. “Readheads?” you cock your eyebrow, completely thrown by the turn of conversation.

“What? I told you! I googled it.” he smiles, oddly proud of himself.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ F e l i x ] finds out you’re a [ V a m p i r e ]

His initial reaction: [ P l a y f u l ]

^ like Jisung, he’s appears very calm and collected on the surface; he will struggle with his external facade and his internal need demanding order. This might make him seem very impassive in the moment, as he tends to shut down when confronted with mixed and conflicting emotions.

^ he has an analytical mind that can see things in black and white. He is capable of finding solutions to tough problems, always. He has a keen attention to detail, and likes to absorb everything before making a decision. So he will probably, like Chan, be very quiet and expressionless during your confession.

^ he has a very clever mind. And he will go through all possible elements of thinking before making any decision—so you won’t have to worry about fear, disgust or uncertainty driving him to make an impulsive decision about your relationship.

^ he’s very honest with you, he will always tell you exactly how he feel about you—to your face. He doesn’t like to sugar coat his words. For him, honesty is the best policy, even if the truth hurts. So when he does settle his mind, his inner conflict, enough to respond to you articulately—you might experience some unintentional savagery, but it most definitely will not last for long.

^ he’s pretty old school, a bit conservative and old fashioned. He’s not really into modern changes and prefers things in their old traditional ways. This is beneficial to you, in the given situation, because you are much much older than you seem. Your aura brings that old fashioned feel, and he will still appreciate that—even after realizing why.

^ once he wraps his head around the concept, around the idea of you being a vampire and living off of blood, he’ll be extremely playful. He’ll love to tease you, and honestly, he’s the type to be into a little blood play.

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

“Yeah, I get it, you're a vampire," he said. "Creepy. And okay, a little hot, I admit."

"You don't mean that." you gape in his direction. "Come on. I still like you, you know, even if you... crave plasma." You blink once, twice, and it’s as if you’ve never seen him before. “You what?"

"Like. You." Felix enunciated slowly, as if you might not know the words. "Idiot. I always have. What, you didn't know? We’re literally dating." he sounded cool and grown-up about it, but you saw the hectic color in his cheeks, under the moonlight.

"How clueless are you? Does it come with the fangs?" he sniffs, eyes darting around him, never really settling on you.

"I guess I...I just thought.... I don’t know. I just didn't think...You're kind of intimidating, you know." you finally admit. "I'm intimidating? Me? You’re the vampire here!” he spluttered out. "You're the one who's intimidating. I mean, come on. All that power, and you look... Well, you know how you look."

"How do I look?" you were fascinated now, you moved a little closer to him on the couch. He laughed nervously. "Oh come on. You're a total model-babe."

"You're kidding." you deadpan, completely caught off guard.

"You don't think you are?" he shot back at you, side eyeing your expression. You shook you head."Then you're kind of an idiot. Smart, but an idiot." he crossed his arms, momentarily lost in though. “So? What exactly do you think about me, except that I’m intimidating?” he questioned after a moment of silence.

“I think you’re…you’re…ah, interesting?” your the one tripping over your words now. If you were capable of blushing, you’d be beet red. “I think you’re kind of beautiful...for a human. And really, really strange.” You look away, keeping your eyes on the opposite wall.

“Beautiful? But I’m a boy.” he whines.

“Boys can be beautiful too, it’s not subjective to one gender. Besides, beauty is a state of being—it’s inside—not just physical attractiveness.” you reprimand him for his narrow mindedness.

He smiled and looked down, the color in his face deepened. “Thanks for that,” he murmured, “I thought you only considered me to be bratty.”

“Well, to be fair, you are bratty.” you smile, peeking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey!” he gasps, affronted.

“What? You can be bratty and beautiful,” you shot back, repeating yourself once more. “I think it’s interesting.” There was a beat of silence, “So, your not scared of me? You don’t hate me?” you whispered into the dark room. Before he could even open his mouth to reply, you continue, “I have been stabbed, shot, burned, bitten, beaten unconscious too many times to count, and even staked. None of those would hold a candle to the pain I’d feel if you hated me, if you were scared.”

His dark eyes find you in the light of the moon, his hand reaching out to intertwine with your. He opens his mouth, closes it and opens it once more—as if trying to articulate his feelings properly, as if trying to find the words. “That's pretty hot," his deep voice carries in the otherwise quiet room.

"What? Me being staked?" you admonished, unprepared for the turn of conversation.

"Well, no. Of course not. I meant the idea of getting rough with you is hot. I'm a big fan of full-contact sports." he wiggled his eyebrows in your direction, his voice playful, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Throwing your head back, you squeezed his hand, “I'm sure you are.” ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ J e o n g i n ] finds out you’re a [ N y m p h ]

His initial reaction: [ D e l i g h t e d ]

^ he’s incredibly open-minded and tends to think and do things differently than others. He thinks for himself and likes to keep an open mind about all things. He’s not the type to judge a book by its cover. So you won’t need to worry about any judgment being thrown your way.

^ he’s a true free spirit, meaning any attempts to keep him from being who he really is will make him turn away. This is great, because he has learned to treat others as he wishes to be treated; he won’t ask you to suppress who you are, or change in any way, for the fear that you might do the same to him.

^ he’ll most likely need some space and freedom to work through his thoughts on your unusual upbringing. However, he will be very vocal about exactly why he needs space, as to avoid any miscommunication. He would never up and leave you for being open and honest with him and he wouldn’t want you to think otherwise.

^ like Jisung, he is also quite the intellectual. He can amaze anyone with his original ideas; this is great because, right off the bat, he will be so overwhelmed with curiosity, overflowing with questions, he won’t have the time to be upset with you.

^ sure, he’s a bit of an intellectual rebel and he will loudly defend his opinions, but he’s also willing and open to learning. Ultimately, telling him you’re a forest nymph will be like telling him you had grapefruit for breakfast. He has a great power to form and understand abstract concepts and conform and adapt to new information like he’s known it his whole life—like it’s no big deal.

^ he’ll be delighted with your honesty, insanely curious and extremely playful.

^ he’s also very stubborn at times. It is often hard to change his mind about something once it is set for. But you’re close enough to actually succeed in this area, an area which others have failed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You wake up sudden—a chill crawling down your spine—in a puddle of cool sunlight. Your hands asleep beside you, your hair draped on the lawn like a mantle of cloth. Frost grows on the window glass, forming whirlpool patterns of lovely translucent geometry, and you stare up, momentarily forgetting where you are. Sitting up slowly, you lean forward and breath on the glass, giving the frost more ammunition. Now the winter nymphs can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor. In a few blinks you can almost see them moving in, ready to do their seasonal damage to your lovely forest, to your home. That’s when you hear it, a shift in the cool grass. And suddenly he’s right there, crouched down beside you. He rocks forward, and hisses in an attempt to scare you out of your thoughts. But you knew he was there the entire time, you could sense his presence. He could never truly sneak up on you in the forest, not with the many trees and plants and animals—the many eyes and ears.

You turn to him, with a bored expression, “Really? That’s all you got?”

You stretch your wings, hear their crackle, as a show of complete content.

“Not fair! How did you know? I was really quiet this time!” he pouts, whining about how unfair it is. “Also, why are you out here? It’s kind of cold.” he finally sits down, pulling his knees up to his chest.

You shrug your shoulders, resisting the urge to smile. There’s a pause, a beat of silence, where you both gaze up at the outer side of the house; the windows covered in frost catching your attention, yet again. And then you feel his gaze on you.

“It’s nice.” he whispers and you turn your head to face him, confused.

“That you exist.” he smiles at you and you feel your heart drop.

“I think humans don’t want merely to see beauty...we want something else which can hardly be put into words—” he cuts himself off, momentarily, watching your face carefully. “We want to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to become part of it. I think that’s why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses, and nymphs and elves.” he trails off again, and you’re left speechless. His dark eyes catching on the curves and lines of your face. And then the moment is broken, he looks away, back up at the frost bitten windowsill. But your heart still thumps in your throat. “And this is nice," he begins with a sigh. "Like...one of those paintings where a nymph or Athena is drawing the gods and goddesses." your eyes follow his gaze back up to the windowsill, you see that he’s referring to the intricate designs hidden within the frost. Winter nymphs have a tendency to hide such patterns, such art, in their work.

You hum in agreement. “And here I was thinking you were an utterly uneducated human," you said teasingly.

"I am a student," he responded with hauteur. "I am classically educated.”

"Plus, nymphs are pretty," he adds, in after thought.

You laugh. "I could stare at them all day," he continued. His tone was carefully neutral, but his eyes never left yours. And you found you couldn’t look back, and not blush. He reached over, delicately pulling you into his side—it was only then that you realized how closely he held you, and how the gentle incline of the hill brought you almost eye to eye with him.

One side of his mouth twitched. "Your cheeks are like cherries." he chortled, delighted.

You tucked your chin into the wool of his coat. "It's cold," you said, defensively. He shook his head. "I am not complaining. I think they're rather charming. They make you look like a winter nymph.”

“I find that really offensive.” you grumble in response, the forest nymph and fairy blood in you disliking the comparison all together. He laughs, warmly, and pulls you even closer. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ S e u n g m i n ] finds out you’re a [ W i t c h ]

His initial reaction: [ R e l u c t a n t ]

^ he’s highly reliable, it’s in his blood to keep up with commitments. People often completely rely on him to complete complicated tasks with efficiency and perfection as he is naturally very rational. It’s that rational side of his mind that will force him to listen to your explanation to the end.

^ he would never, consciously, let you down; he consistently gives his best to meet your expectations. He’s the first to answer your call and the last to leave a situation when you’re in need. This will be beneficial to you as he will be compelled to stop, listen and hear you out.

^ like Felix, he is extremely analytical. He will think everything through—weighing the options, good and bad—before making a decision about your relationship.

^ at first he’ll be quite reluctant, hesitant and unwilling to budge in his prejudice. It’s something he can’t help, growing up believing witches are evil, dark, dangerous and manipulative. But deep down he knows you, and this will be all he needs to encourage understanding and acceptance.

^ he’s a problem solver. He likes to tackle problems of close ones and the people around him. At first it might seem like he’s trying to control the situation, but you will soon realize that he is only analyzing your situation to find ways of helping you improve your life.

^ he can be critical at times, overly demanding. It’s because he already has a clear picture in his mind about how things should be done. But he’s also open to change, and once he comes to terms with your witchy ways, he will become the most supportive boyfriend you could ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “So tell me about it,” he interjected, pulling you away from your inner dialogue.

“What?” you look up from your study table, eyes meeting his across the room.

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch? Do you practice Black Magic? Have you ever put me under a spell?” his face is blank, expressionless, but his voice gives away his anger and confusion.

“There is no such thing as White Magic or Black Magic.” you turn you head away from him, unable to accept him being so cold and cruel to you. “If you are participating in magic, you are interfering with the natural order of how life would have developed without your hand in it. You are manipulating reality to suit your own personal needs. Regardless of whether you perceive it as "positive" or "white light", you are manipulating life. And just like life, it’s not black and white, all good or all bad.” you trail off, your stomach in knots. It’s best to be truthful, you know this, but it hurts you to think that something like this could damage you relationship. Or worse, end it. You feel the telltale signs of tears forming in your eyes, the heat almost unbearable.

“And no, I’ve never—I would never use it on you.” there is a brief silence and despite him approaching you, stepping much closer, you resolutely keep your eyes lowered.

“Can you tell me about them?” his voice was much softer now, much too close. You look up into his eyes and realize he’s referring to the plants on your bed side table. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, slowly stand up from the chair and turn towards your bed.

“These are tropical palms. They bring strong solar energy into your home that break up stale energy, and keep your home safe from nasty spiritual entities.” you trail off, carefully watching his expression. “This right here is African violet, and it’s associated with love and magic. But I use it because it’s vibrant purple flowers pull lunar energy into your home. Lunar energy is most important to those in my coven.” you whisper, the vivid memory of your grandmother and aunt surrounding themselves, filling their homes, with African violets almost brings tears to your eyes. “Aloe is associated with the water element because the gel inside the leaves. They’re cooling and healing.” you continue on, pulling yourself out of your reminiscing.

Finally you turn to the last plant, your moms personal favorite. “The clusters of star shaped flowers that grow on the long tendrils of the hoya, also called a wax plant, produce truly intoxicating nectar whose aroma fills the whole house. It also bestows blessings on anyone who smells it.” You wait for him to say something, still avoiding his unnerving stare, unsure you want to even see his reaction.

“This stuff? These plants? They really mean a lot to you, don’t they?” his voice is barely there, a whisper, but his words still have the same affect. You blink, once, twice, and the tears you were so set on holding back, fall.

Suddenly he’s there, pulling you closer to him, guiding your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. His warm embrace is enough to comfort you by itself but he still whispers to you, “It’s okay, it’ll be okay. I’m not mad. I won’t leave you. It’s okay.” And, for once, you truly believe it.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[ M i n h o ] finds out you’re a [ S h a p e s h i f t e r ]

His initial reaction: [ E n t h r a l l e d ]

^ he’s focused and competitive. When he wants something he just goes for it. Also, when he sets his sight on something (you) he allows very few things to get in his way and does anything to achieve his goal (to be with you.) This focus, this competitive nature, will keep him present and attentive during your confession.

^ he’s also extremely brave and daring. He isn’t afraid of challenges in life, so what appears to be a crazy risk to more conservative people is just a normal day for the brave-hearted Minho. Because of this, he won’t be afraid. When you tell him, show him, what you really are—he’ll be more enthralled than fearful or confused.

^ one of the great things about Minho is his loyalty to you. He values trust and honesty making him a fiercely loyal boyfriend, and he expects you to be the same way. That being said, he most likely will be upset that you felt the need to keep such a secret. But he will quickly get over it, dismiss those feelings, once he realizes just how honest you’re being with him in the present. ^ he respects you and treats you with amazing loyalty, generosity and kindness. Him finding out you’re a shapeshifter definitely will not change that.

^ however, it most likely will take him a hot second to be content within your relationship dynamic again, as a part of him perceived your lack of truthfulness as disloyalty. There's a pretty good chance that your actions will cause some big-time resentment to him, at least for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “It’s okay, I mean if you want to, if you need to—” he trails off, his eyes sympathetic. “I’m okay with it.”

You look at him ready to cry again. Not out of pain. Not out of need. But because his words rub that part of your soul that suffers, that wants to be explored like a virgin land that has remained intact for centuries and craves to be occupied, appreciated and transformed. So you let yourself go.

You groan as your limbs lessen into shorter proportions and your neck stretches. Auburn-coloured fur emerged upon your fevered skin, and the sounds of your bones cracking, shifting in an echo around the cold mountain side. Your snout elongates and your teeth sharpen.

You were panting and, with one last shudder, your body slides from human to fox in a crack. Minho stood there, face drawn up in a twisted expression full of empathetic pain, watching the frost dissipate on your hot tongue, sending tiny rivulets of steam into the air. In this form, the world was sharp and clear, he was sharp and clear. You never realized how many different colors of shadow there were, how the angles of his face cast such an array of shade. It made you savor the dark beauty of the cold evening even more.

Minutes passed by—him staring at you, and you staring at him—both of you almost caught in a trance. When a little blue butterfly fluttered up to you, and landed on your snout. You blinked at it and it fluttered to your ear; it was winter, cold and lifeless on the mountain side, why were there suddenly butterflies? A big yellow butterfly gently floats over and lands on your paw, and as if reading your mind, Minho cocks his head to the right, “Well, that’s different.”

Soon a whole swarm of them float up and down around you, like a swirl of multicolored petals. It happened once before, in your backyard, when you shifted on a late afternoon.

Your magic must be strong enough, in that moment, to attract them—despite the weather and location. Butterflies were small and light, and very magic sensitive. For some reason you made them feel safe and they gravitated to you like iron shavings to a magnet. Minho let out a quiet giggle as a bigger butterfly landed on your forehead and you shook it off, affronted. Resisting the urge to fight the assault, you took a step back. They ruined your ferocious badass image, but you’d have to be a complete beast to swat butterflies.

Now if a baby deer frolicked out from between the mountains and tried to cuddle up, you would yip. You wouldn’t bite it, but you would most definitely yip, maybe even growl. You had your limits. Minho slowly approached you and reached out, his fingers hesitant. You tilted your head down, letting him touch your ears. His hand trembled slightly as he caressed the fluffy protrusion. You knew they were warmer than he thought they’d be, a living extension of the human inside. He petted your pelt next, charmed by the coarse fur and the feel of your muscles bunching and moving underneath. Finishing off with your tale, he ran his fingers through it, slowly, thoroughly.

Sitting back, he winked down at you. "You probably get this a lot, but…I like your backside.” he laughed at your annoyed yip. “What? It’s so fluffy.” You stretch back into human form, the change much easier in reverse, and look up at him from the ground. “Always gotta be the smartass, don’t you?” you roll your eyes, with a smile.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

To the beautiful anon who requested a supernatural s/o reaction [Stray Kids,] I hope you like it!!! 😅😅 It was superrrr fun to do, so thank you for the request, loveee! 🥰

78 notes · View notes

tickle-bugs · 3 years

Text

Incentive

Summary: Eleanor refuses to do the worksheet that Chidi’s assigned--not out of her usual stubbornness, but out of an overwhelming case of the butterflies. Simone provides an incentive that Eleanor can’t refuse.

I got assigned my darling @peachytickles!!!!! PEACH!!!! I hope you like this bc they’ve been in my head rent!!!! free!!!!!! Happy wooluhwoo month I love you endlessly <33 Huge thank you to @ticklishraspberries for organizing Femslash Feb!! This was an absolute blast :D

“Eleanor, you’re being ridiculous.” Chidi crossed his arms.

“Don’t care. I’m not doing it.” Eleanor slid the sheet of paper back towards Chidi.

“Eleanor-”

“Say my name again and I’ll start throwing stuff, I swear.” She glared at him but he didn’t flinch.

“Simone needs this data for her study.” He slid the worksheet towards Eleanor, leaving his hand pressed down on the paper so she couldn’t fling it off the desk. Rude.

“Perhaps we could do it together? I’m never averse to a good study sesh.” Tahani beamed, tucking her fancy pen behind her ear.

“I’ll pass.” Eleanor slipped out of the classroom, a sour taste on her tongue.

It’s not that she didn’t want to be helpful--she really did want to be more than the mean lady who sold scams to the elderly--but they were asking far too much of her.

Picture a person that you deeply care for. Answer the following with that person, and that person only, in mind.

She couldn’t even get past the first question without Simone’s stupid beautiful face overwhelming her. Her crush was easy to manage at first, but it had grown into an unavoidable monster over the last few weeks. The other day, Eleanor had heard Simone’s laugh in the other room and snapped a pencil in the middle of a lecture. She drifted off at night imagining Simone wrapping her up in her arms and worming her fingers beneath her shirt, whispering teases into Eleanor’s sensitive ears.

God, she was so forking screwed.

Her legs drew her to Simone’s door, hovering just outside the door frame. She was clearly deep in thought--she had a habit of biting her lip when she concentrated.

“Knock knock,” Eleanor accompanied the phrase with the gesture, immediately cringing at her own corniness.

“I’d say ‘who’s there’ but, well, I already know the answer. Come in.” Simone waved her in with a smile.

“I’m not doing the worksheet.” Eleanor shoved her hands in her pockets, glaring a hole through Simone’s forehead.

“Okay.” Simone resumed her typing. Huh.

“It’s dumb and way too personal.”

“...okay.” Simone raised her eyebrow.

“You can get your data from the others. I’m not doing it.” Eleanor spun on her heel and stormed towards the door. Don’t let me leave, don’t let me leave, don’t let me-

“What if I offered a reward?” Simone pushed her chair out and stood. Eleanor whirled around.

“What could you possibly-”

“I’ll give you tickles until you tap out.” Simone said, oozing nonchalance, as if she hadn't dropped an earth-shattering statement.

“Wh--why would I want that?” Eleanor cursed herself for the break in her voice.

“Okay, not going to point out the obvious in your behavior for the past forever, but it’s pretty obvious you’re a physically affectionate person. Tickling isn’t that uncommon of a desire, y’know? You crave closeness with the people you care about, but the study is getting in the way, and this worksheet is your latest enemy. I get it, Eleanor. It’s not weird.” Simone leaned on her desk, smiling warmly, and Eleanor couldn’t for the life of her get her vocal chords to function.

“You don’t have to do it. I’m just giving you an incentive. It’s up to you if you finish the sheet.” Simone held out the folded worksheet, waving it a little in encouragement. Eleanor snatched it and shoved it in her pocket, cheeks burning.

“Whatever,” Eleanor mumbled, speeding out of the room before she could do anything embarrassing, like agreeing to Simone’s terms. Though, she supposed she already had.

Ah, fork.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Come in.” Simone took a loud slurp of her smoothie--probably pineapple, judging by the color--and took a few more clacks at her keyboard before looking up. Eleanor held the crumpled worksheet out towards her, cheeks blazing pink, and Simone took it, brushing Eleanor’s fingers with her own.

“Thank you.” Simone beamed, skimming through her answers. She murmured the answers aloud in an incoherent blur, pausing between irrelevant words to make quiet noises of approval.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I believe I promised you a reward.” Simone rounded the desk, positively sparkling with playfulness.

“Yep.” Eleanor coughed, shuffling backwards a little.

“Any ideas for a safe word?” Simone put her hands on her hips, tilting her head slightly.

“Do we need one?” Eleanor didn’t mean to squeak, she really didn’t, but the sight of Simone stretching and cracking her fingers was nearly too much for her to handle.

“Well, yeah! Otherwise I’d be stopping every time you said ‘stop’ or ‘no’ and I assume that’s going to happen quite a bit.”

“How about...neuron?” Eleanor’s knees hit the back of the couch--couch? How’d they cross the room so fast?--and she fell with an oomf. Simone climbed on top of her, settling her weight firmly across Eleanor’s thighs.

“Perfect.” Simone grinned down at her, fingers poised.

Oh man. Oh man.

“Where are you ticklish? I’m sure I’ll figure it out myself, but you could give me a few hints.” Simone swooped her fingers in, just barely skimming Eleanor’s t-shirt, and she squealed, hiding her face behind her hands. She’d imagined this for months, hypothesized what that word would sound like falling from Simone’s smirking lips, but nothing could ever compare to this.

“No,” Eleanor squeaked, peeking between her fingers.

“No? Then you leave me no choice.” Simone sighed, fingers latching onto Eleanor’s ribs like magnets. Eleanor burst into squeaky cackles, arching hard into the sofa.

“S-Sim--”

“Sound it out, you can do it. Si-mone.” She vibrated her fingers into the divots between Eleanor’s ribs.

“Stop!”

“I’m barely even touching you!” Simone laughed, trailing her fingers up and down her ribcage like a xylophone. Eleanor shimmied in place, elbows pressed firmly to her sides, but she couldn’t block out Simone’s accursed fingers.

“T-Tickles!” A strange gurgling noise escaped from Eleanor’s throat and her next bout of laughter turned deeper, more desperate.

“Well yeah, Captain Obvious.” Simone launched a flurry of pinches and pokes across Eleanor’s stomach, paying careful attention to the spots that made her fold and twist.

“Hmm, we’ve hit some good spots, but we’re missing something here. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?” Simone leaned close, close enough for Eleanor to smell her perfume, and god she was going to die here, under the tickly touches of the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She deserved Good Person Points for this. Not even the strongest soldier would survive being able to see the slight gloss of Simone’s chapstick without completely falling apart.

“N-No!” She bucked until she flipped herself over. Simone tipped back, grabbing the back of Eleanor’s leg for balance, and she squealed.

“I am absolutely going to need you to do that again,” Simone whispered, eyes wide. Eleanor turned to protest, but Simone already pinned down her left leg, scribbling over the back of her knee. Eleanor was beyond grateful for the way the couch cushions muffled her screamy, hiccupy giggles. If anyone else heard her, she’d die on the spot.

“You are the worst-”

“That’s not very nice. I am giving you what you wanted, y’know.” Simone scratched one finger in the dead-center of the pit of Eleanor’s knee. She screeched, kicking wildly, and caught Simone in the shoulder a few times with her heel. She twisted hard, nearly taking both of them to the floor, but she ended up dangling off of the couch, with Simone still anchoring her lower half to the cushions.

“Rude,” Simone scoffed, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye, and Eleanor suddenly became very aware of the way her shirt had slid up to reveal bare skin.

“Wait, nonono-”

“I think you owe me an apology,” Simone singsonged, slowly wiggling her fingers just over Eleanor’s skin. Every once in a while, she’d trail her fingers lightly over Eleanor’s stomach just to watch her muscles quiver with panicky, anticipatory giggles.

“Fork off-”

“Nono, try something like…’Simone is the greatest ever’. That has a nice ring to it, yeah?” Simone smoothed her hands over Eleanor’s skin, taking firm hold of her waistline, and when it appeared she had nothing to say past a protestive scrunch of the nose, Simone squeezed.

“No!” Eleanor’s laughter overtook her as she batted at Simone’s hands, stuck in a loop of laughter-filled sit-ups while she tried to free herself from Simone’s hands.

“Again with the rudeness. I’m wounded, Eleanor.” Simone held one hand over her heart while the other pressed into a particularly devastating spot on her side. Eleanor lunged, latching onto Simone’s hands.

“Gotcha.” Eleanor grinned.

“Checkmate.” Simone twisted her wrists until Eleanor’s grip faltered, drinking in the look of panic on her face before plunging her hands under her arms.

“N-Neuron!” Eleanor wheezed, tapping Simone’s wrist. Simone hauled her back up onto the couch, rubbing a soothing hand over her leg.

“Are you okay?” Simone leaned down to catch Eleanor’s gaze, searching for any unease or discomfort in her expression.

“Yes! Yeah, that was perfect.” Eleanor ran a hand through her frizzed-out hair, laughing a little in disbelief. The gentle burn of laughter in her chest felt incredible. She let Simone help her up and lead her to the door, absolutely floating on endorphins.

“This doesn’t have to be a one time thing. My door is always open.” Simone leaned forward, little by little, until they were nose to nose. She tilted her head, eyes flicking down to Eleanor’s lips, as if asking for permission. Oh. Eleanor quickly kissed her before she could squander the opportunity.

So the smoothie was pineapple. Nice.

“Y-Yeah. No problemo.” Eleanor cleared her throat, grinning like an idiot. She pecked Simone on the nose, emboldened by dopamine, and slid out of the office. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut behind her that she registered what had just happened.

“No problemo? Really?” Eleanor hissed, smacking herself in the forehead, but there was a little bounce in her step as she made her way down the hall.

#my fics #femfebtkl2021 #the good place #ticklish!eleanor #elmone #Eleanor Shellstrop #simone garnett #i hope u like this bby!!!!!!

45 notes · View notes

jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists · 3 years

Text

🥳🌈🐸 FIC WRITER TAG GAME🐸🌈🥳

hello everyone! i was tagged by the absolutely lovely @palimpsessed to take part in this, so here i go!

(ps i’m not gonna tag anyone, just say i tagged you if you see this and wanna take part ;p) ((pps i’m actually gonna tag @faeryphilia and @mostlymaudlin tho. my babes <3 my mutuals <3 my dears <3)) (((ppps you can still say i tagged you. muah have a nice day :3)))

How many works do you have on AO3?

21 works :) although, some of them are just rants and thank you letters, so i don’t think they all count :)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

about 60,082 words!! holy shit balls!! that’s crazy!!

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

one so far; which is carry on. i do plan to write for other fandoms tho ;p

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Cool Runnings and Sucking Cock {E}

Hey, Bartender? {E}

How Many? {E}

Vibrators, Breakfast, Goats, and More! They Got It All At The Copier Store! {E}

Monsters Under The Bed (And Outside Of It) {T}

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

of course yes! i absolutely love when i get interaction from my froglings!! 🐸 it’s a huge endorphin high anytime i get so much as a kudos! i love you all so much :D 🥰

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Well, Then You Burn {M}. It’s a major character death, so it’s pretty dang sad. it hurt me to write and i hope it hurts you to read :D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

no, but i fear it constantly. i look back at some of my stuff and honestly? the shit i say to myself is already bad. i don’t think anyone could say something worse.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

it’s practically all i write, bestie. i am a whore. a slutty frog, if you will. i’ll write pretty much anything, but i do prefer to have some d/s undertones or just straight up bdsm. i am an unholy frog, but i also like my sweet and fluffy making love sessions too.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i fucking hope i have. that’d be the biggest damn compliment. or the biggest insult. like, oh i’m so good someone stole from me haha 😎. or they thought i was so irrelevant they could get away with it 😞. yknow?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not as far as i’m aware, but if so, let me know!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, but i’m totally down to work with anyone! i am going to be beta-ing for @angelsfalling16 tho, so that’s super cool! hit me up if you need absolutely anything to do with fics and i’ll try my best to be helpful! i’m sinful, but i’m a good mother frog 🐸 😌

What’s your all time favorite ship?

depends on what i’m obsessed with. rn it’s snowbaz, but it used to be hinny.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

yikes there’s so many. i have over 100 wips in progress rn but i’m too scared to talk about them bc i don’t want to ruin the surprise when i post, and my fic for the carry on too many aus fest is really kicking my ass. i have no idea how i’m going to get it out in time and i’m terrified i won’t be able to. IM NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE AND POSTING IS TOMORROW WTF

What are your writing strengths?

no fucking clue. i mean, i THINK im good at dialogue? maybe?

What are your writing weaknesses?

fuck plot. i hate plot. plot can suck my ass. why can’t i just write dialogue and have people understand the picture in my head??? why am i so specific and picky about word count??? why do i hate simplicity???

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

i’ve done it before and will most likely do it again! i’m not fluent in anything other than english, though, so if i ever mess up, make sure to tell me!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

so, that’s a good question. the first fandom i ever wrote for was dora the explorer. i’ve been writing fanfic for a LOOONG time. the first fandom i ever PUBLISHED for was carry on. i was sitting in the hospital, writing away, and i thought ‘huh. i should publish this.’ and that was that.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

i don’t have a favorite fic that’s published, but i sure as fuck have a favorite. it’s a long and grueling process and i’ve spent so much time with it, but i love it and i love the concept. it’s not even close to done, but i’m still excited.

#writer tag game #haha #snowbaz #simon snow #simon snow trilogy #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows

6 notes · View notes

sunseteyes · 4 years

Text

ONCE UPON A HELLFIRE; DABI

theme/s: anastasia & hunchback in notre dame inspired. the meeting of an unlikely pair that bonded through a connection neither understood.

word count: 2,226 words

roze’s note: this is the first out of eight oneshots i’ll be publishing til the end of the month, please look forward to each of them~ also, i am not a professional dancer or even close to one so i do apologize if the dance scenes are not that detailed.

there was a crowd around you, your hair and the laces of your clothes dancing along through your movements. a smile was on your face, sweet and sultry as you eyed upon each of the watchers, observing their reactions but mostly to add upon the mood of the dance.

the flame burns from behind you but it was warm enough to show you the passion that you put through each gesture, action and motion.

applause resounded in the area the moment you finished, the praises never ending yet your focus were on the your hand, lifted up on the sky as if reaching up on it. it was your dream to be someone who is loved and inspired of by the people around you, and it was fulfilled.

but, it was all ruined by a man.

"(y/n), have you prepared for the presentation tomorrow?" another dancer asked, her dress of a different color than yours due to the difference of roles. above all the dancers that had performed that night, it was you who were in the center stage—the star of the night, the sun that brightened up the mood of the crowd due to how popular you were to everyone.

your eyes set upon uraraka, thinking upon her question.

"you meant the solo dance for the governor tomorrow? yes, i have, why do you ask ochaco-chan?"

the brunette gives you an small smile, one that she always does whenever she's unsure of something but she's too shy to tell it to you. above everyone, it's ochaco who you could tell is the closest you've got as a friend. it didn't mean that the other performers didn't like you per se but since you had always been requested and assigned as the main dancer usually, let's just say your relationship with them is not too good to be considered as above acquaintances.

"oh, not really." she chuckles awkwardly, waving her hand as a gesture, "i'm just worried for you, that's all."

"worried?" you raised a brow, catching upon the tone of her voice and her choice of words. "why should there be to be concerned of?"

"oh-" her eyes widens a bit, "it's really just-i wanted to say good luck for your performance. i'm sure you can do it better than all of us."

you smiled, carrying your bag to place the strap on your shoulders as you had finished packing your things to go home. "thank you, ochako-chan. i really appreciate it."

as you passed by everyone in the tent, you couldn't help but feel and receive the gazes that the other dancers were giving you but you planted your feet on the ground; firm and unshakable.

so as you thought.

slumping onto the bed, you place an arm on top of your eyes, covering it despite of having the room already dark enough not to hurt your sight. the house was quiet, as usual, but it didn't mean you wanted it.

you grew up in an orphanage and it would have been better if you knew why you were there all of a sudden but you barely remember anything about the past years before you were taken in by the caretaker--who never really cared much about you throughout your stay. you were neglected, and even if it was the sad reality, it only made you more curious in finding who your real family was.

but you never did.

you hummed to fill in the quietness of the surroundings whilst organizing the things that are needed for the solo performance tomorrow. it will not take long much but the movements definitely will take effort because every second will count upon how you should make the audience glue their eyes and whole attention on you, including the governor.

the governor is a powerful man and everyone knows not to displease him. that’s why you prepared for this dance early on and had mastered everything already.it would be a shame if you’ve made a slightest bit of a mistake in front of the most respected and powerful man in your city.

by the time tomorrow came, your heart was pounding just at the sight of the people that were gathered around the plaza--the same people who were bound to witness your performance for today. you had certainly performed in front of a bunch of people but never at this number. however, it is still exciting to do so for the exact same reason. in conclusion, you were feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement pumping in your heart that you didn’t know which one was stronger.

by the time your name was called, you gave it with all you’ve got; swaying your hips, moving your arms freely, your feet light as you pranced along the stage, and your eyes immediately set upon the mayor, being able to have this chance to see him for the very first time.

enji todoroki. ever since you came to the orphanage, you had known of his name. he was not only a man known for his title but also for the good deeds he had done for the people. everyone respects and honors him. anyone who does differently are exiled or put to death, even. it is indeed intriguing but as a lowly citizen--barely, to be honest--you have no choice but to abide and cause any commotion of some sort.

the crowd was wild and sounding pleased with what you were showing them and there is an amused look on the governor’s face, which then only encouraged you to move accordingly and with great energy. your heartbeat blended well with the music and the claps of the people resonated with your moves.

your gaze was then tugged towards a figure not very far from the governor, his presence giving you an intriguing energy that it made you glide towards him, a smile tugged on your face as you placed yourself in front of him, unafraid of any repercussions that may happen. it is part of your dance where you have to improvise some of the steps since you decided that it would be too boring to only stay in one place throughout the performance.

you peered over his face the moment you got beside him, his eyes gleaming under the shadow of his hair, as if he was narrowing them at you in irritation--or not. your sweat ran cold not because you were scared of him but it was a different kind of feeling that piqued your interest. you also had a hard time reading him but you didn’t linger there for any longer for his body heat was too warm for you to handle.

you felt his gaze was on you and yours were on him when you had went by the governor’s side, including him in your performance still even if your attention was on the other man by the side. you noticed how he wore an all-black outfit that matches his hair color, but you couldn’t see his face with the mask he was wearing. although what amazed you was how the burns that decorated his skin didn’t bother you no matter how you look at them.

beauty is irrelevant for you and you don’t have particular standards in men or anyone but there is something about the way his looks just got you distracted that you almost stopped dancing.

you stopped peering over the man until you finished the performance, your hand raising up to your heart that was pounding still even as you go down the stage and towards the dressing room. for some reason, you couldn’t seem to forget about the man that was by the governor’s side. it is wrong for you to still have your mind on him but something about him just intrigues you.

“hey there, doll,” you flinched at the sudden voice, turning to the same man that was circling in your brain enter the dressing room. it was a good thing you were not undressing yourself or else you would have recoiled in embarrassment.

but, “what are you doing here, dear sir?” you inquired with respect, knowing the possibility that he may be connected to the governor with how he could stand there on the same level as the him. a bodyguard, perhaps?

your spine trembled at his eyes--how he looked over at you just like how he did earlier. you had never known how it is to be attracted to someone but if this is attraction, then that changes everything.

he was silent for awhile, his gaze remaining on yours and it only thickened the tension in the air, especially since it was only the two of you here. you should be wary of him just like how other strangers but you felt like you couldn’t seem to do so.

you don’t even know his name.

“my father would like to invite you in a dinner.” he said the words like he was spatting it, disgusted and embarrassed, you understood why the second you processed and realized it. but before you could answer, he was speaking again.

“you do know that this is clearly an invitation that you couldn’t disagree with, right?”

you nod your head, unable to speak at how you were shaking in terror by now. what adds to that is you don’t know if you could trust this man or not.

and he did say his father right? he’s the son of the governor? it doesn’t look like it but there was a resemblance in the ambiance somehow.

but instead of further giving you fright, the man gave off a vibe that somehow reassured you. maybe it’s the way he stepped back and gave you space, or the warmth that radiates from his gleaming eyes, despite everything.

what is with this man?

“do you have your final answer?”

swallowing the lump on your throat, you narrowed your eyes at him and spoke, “it’s an honor to be given such offer but i politely decline.” you wanted to say more but you were still at a loss for words, reluctant of the future that awaits you after saying such answer.

he tilts his head slightly to the side, his dark bangs swaying a bit in his movement, it intimidated you yet you made no move to back away,

“hmm, so that’s who you are.” he mutters and suddenly steps forward, his footsteps resounding throughout the room as he does. he reaches out for the table behind you and leans in, his face inches away from yours as you felt his breath fan your face at how close he was.

“you’re feisty. i like that.”

he backs away and there was a smirk on his face that you have never seen before, its amusement almost similar to a grim reaper showing up to its prey.

“tell me, doll. how about working for me? i am quite sure that you’re the type who doesn’t have a permanent home.”

you narrow your eyes at him, not backing down.

“how would you know about that?”

he hums. “well first of all, why would your dancer friends offer you up to the governor? surely it’s either they all hate you or you’re the only one who doesn’t have anyone else waiting for them.”

“so which one are you?”

you purse your lips and for the first time, you didn’t know what to say.

he smirks. “so you’re both. i see, i see.” he chuckles and it sent trembles down your skin, prickling like a thorn awaiting to injure you.

but why is it that you still trust this man after all of that?

your eyes caught the movement of his hand but instead of grabbing you like you had thought, he only raised it, as if offering you to take it.

when you glanced up on his turquoise eyes, there was a glint that attracted you like magnet, an interest you never knew you would crave for.

“join me, doll. join me and i’ll provide you better than your fake friends would. you don’t have to worry about my father getting to you because i’m pretty sure,” he paused, giving a knowing look, “-he’d be looking for you all over this place. now, what do you say?”

looking down at his outstretched hand, you can’t believe that you were actually considering it.

but he does have a point.

you raised your hand and gazed up at his eyes again. “what would you make me do if i join you?”

the curve of his lips was captivating that it almost made you grab his hand.

“how much do you want to find your family?”

his statement made you froze on the spot but a part in your heart thawed, a hidden desire being exposed into sunlight that was called him.

your hand touches his, his warmth flowing and spreading through your entire body as if it lit a fire inside of you.

before he could pull you to him, you stopped him. “wait, i haven’t caught your name yet.”

he looks at you with the same eyes yet a different gaze yet again. there was a stillness in the air that you couldn’t ignore but before you could be more wary, he spoke.

“touya.” his voice was rough and raw, a tone that seemed unfamiliar even to him.

“my name is touya todoroki,”

#nnr disney event #dabi #bnha #bnha oneshots #bnha dabi #boku no hero academia #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi x reader #nnr daydream #nnr bnha #todoroki x reader #todoroki oneshots #touya oneshots #dabi oneshots

60 notes · View notes

maggyme13 · 5 years

Text

Fictober: Mindless- Bane

This is the second entry for my fictober. THis time with Bane form the Dark Knight rised.

Please let me know what you think.

Warnings: Nope

Wordcount: around 800

Prompt: Mindless

Gotham had been under siege for over a month now. Bane´s men and freed convicts were roaming, or rather, ruling the streets.

Those who were weak, no matter their social and financial status before, were the losers. They were robbed, killend and worse, around every corner.

The only reason for you being unharmed were the ability to read situations- and your loyal companion, Fluffy; a Cane Corso- Rottweiler mix, who always had your back. His presence alone was enough to scare most rascals and people away.

Most. But not all.

Bane´s men did not fear your dog, and because Fluffy did not growl or bark at them, you spend them no mind; well not in a survival-mode way.

Once or twice they had crowded a exit an alleyway you had to pass; and everytime they had made, not once making you feel uncomfortable. Though you noticed the interested looks Fluffy earned. He was reaching over you hip after all and dogs of that size were usually not owned and handled by women.

It was later than usual when you made your way home from your shift at the grocery-store. Fluffy as always at your side. The alleyways you usually took were darker than they should be. A few lights must have broken down during the weekend, and now you had to rely on your companions senses to get home safely- preferebly with all your groceries.

Fluffies dark fur camouflaged him very well in the surrounding darkness.

“Let´s hurry Fluff. I am tired and want to go home.”, you whispered, scratching the dog behind his ears.

He huffed happily, and you felt his tail waggle against your leg.

That´s when a whistle caught your attention, and on point Fluffy tensed and got in a defensive croutch.

This could only mean one thing: Danger.

Shit!

“I want a piece of her ass!”, a male voice howled from your left.

“I will take a piece of everything.”, another chuckled.

“I am all in.”, another cheered.

“Those female guards had nothing on her sweet body! I need to thank Bane for freeing us!”, one shouted.

Fuck! Freed inmates.

Knowing Fluffy couldn´t protect you from all of them, you started to back up; Fluffy stepping slightly infront of you, ready to pounce.

“Where are you going sweetcheeks? I promise we will have fun.”

“Fluffy- guard!”, you ordered, though you knew he would do so even without a word.

“Looks like we have to play with her little lapdog first.”, the first one grinned.

Deep barks echoed through the alley; getting more and more angry and threatening with every step the inmates took towards the two of you.

Suddenly you lost your footing on -something- and fell to the floor. Fluffy stood guard over you at once.

The second inmate came dangerously close. THat was when Fluffy went silent. THough he kept standinf guard.

“Such mindless creatures,”, an mechanical voice stated from the shadows behind you,” Once there is somehitng stronger around, they shut up.”

You were sure the shadow meant Fluffy, until: “ Dogs on the other hand are remarkable creatures. Loyal to a fault, and very good in reading people. They know who is a threat and who is not.”

Wait a second.

“If that isn´t our saviour. Thank you for our freedom Bane!”, one of the freed inmates shouted.

“I gave you freedom, because you had been treated unfairly. And what do you use it for? I am disappointed. You wanted to join our cause, and yet- . But that´s irrelevant now, because you are irrelevant now.”, the reconning of Gotham stated.

“We wanted to gift her to you for your men once we are done. But if you want, you can have her first.”, another one of the attackers called.

Bane did not answer, though. Instead he crouched down next to you, bringing his face right at your height, one of his gloved hands moving your head so you were looking straight at him..

His eyes were calm and caught your whole attention, causing you to jerk away in pure terror when all of the sudden shots where fired.

Fluffy was at your side at once, his head pressed against your side in an comforting manor.

“My apologies.”, the captor of your city apologised, “ But you might want to consider changing your shift to an earlier one. As much as my men and I are impressed with your guard.”

“Y-yes. I will call my chef first thing in the morning. Th-thank you for your help.”, you mumbled still in shock.

“Barsad will see you home safely. Have a good night Ms (y/ln).”, and with that everyone left. Everyone but one.

He had been with the groups you had encountered before.

The man walked with you in silenced until you reached the door of your appartment.

“Good nicht Ms ( y/ln). Good night Fluffy.”, he nodded, patting the dog on his head to say good bye.

You were left wondering, what exactly had just happened and how they even knew your last name.

AN: So what do you think about my first Bane fic?

Let me know :P AND PLEASE REBLOG *slightly begging*

Do you want me to write more Bane`?

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford