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checkoutmybookshelf · 2 days

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Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

When JRR Tolkien names a chapter, he doesn't beat about the bush. We literally met like ten new characters and a bunch of old ones in this chapter. I'm also over here wondering what the hell kind of literary circle Tolkien was running to be THIS specific about the numbers and types of parties that get thrown in this book, because once it's clear that Frodo has and will continue to survive and recover from his enstabbening, literally the first thing Elrond does is throw the equivalent of an Elf rager. So let's talk Book 2, Chapter, "Many Meetings."

And so it is that at ten o'clock in the morning on October the twenty-fourth, Frodo Baggins wakes up in the House of Elrond, having been enstabbened seventeen days ago and having lost three days of time right at the end of that because Strider (who I guess as of this chapter we're calling Aragorn) let the dang wound close with a splinter still in there. It's a damn good thing that Elves are magic, because infection control and antibiotics do not seem to be a goddamn thing in Middle Earth, and having to *checks notes* dig for a splinter of a dagger that went in the shoulder and traveled heart-wards for almost a month is gonna a surgical nightmare, especially when you don't have x-rays to pinpoint the location and give you somewhere to START. But I'm being cynical over here; Elrond successfully managed to get the shard out of Frodo, and he's healing, although this little piece from Gandalf is interesting:

He is not even half through yet, and what he will come to in the end not even Elrond can foretell. Not to evil, I think. He may become a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can.

Gandalf isn't even being subtle about the transformation that Frodo is already undergoing here, and it's interesting to me that "a glass filled with a clear light" is the metaphor Tolkien chooses, especially given the contrast with Bilbo's "butter scraped over too much bread." Bilbo is very much embodied and still somewhat himself in that metaphor, if the thinnest, least parts of himself. In the Frodo metaphor though, Frodo is GONE. His self has disappeared in favor of being a light and glass. He is transparent and he is gone. Which I find very interesting in terms of what is being held up as virtuous and what is being held up as falling to a given measure of evil. To be a light is to surrender the self, and like...bro, why can't we be both?

And SPEAKING of Gandalf in this opening part of the chapter, it's nice to finally see his ass again, but I don't actually think I'd want to wake up with his ass next to my sickbed, because the second goddamn thing out of his mouth is scolding Frodo for "all the absurd things [he has] done since [he] left home." And like... Broski doski. Even meant affectionately, even said in relief, maybe don't put the poor hobbit in a position to APOLOGIZE ten second after waking up from almost dying.

AND ANOTHER THING: Frodo talking in his sleep is one way to get information, and it's fair enough. But the WAY TOO CASUAL "...and it has not been hard for me to read your mind and memory" need to be addressed here, because QUITE LITERALLY WHY??? Strider was there and then you had three other hobbits to question. You could even ask Tom Bombadil or 3/4 of Bree if you need more information, and I would do ANY AND ALL OF THAT before casually reading an ally's mind without consent! This wizard is RAPIDLY falling off my list of favorite characters for shit like this...

But at least Gandalf goes a little ways toward breaking the consistent-to-this-point pattern of people withholding information from Frodo, because we get not only a little baby infodump about the Rangers and Strider, but also some history about who and what the Black Riders are, and the composition of the Dark Lord of Mordor's forces. Gandalf also goes out of his way to assure Frodo that Rivendell is safe and that the Elves here are super badass and the Ringwraiths can't get in to finish the job, which is very comforting. Gandalf also has the courtesy to fill Frodo--and us readers, since we missed all of this too--about the details of what the hell the raging river was and how everyone got to Rivendell in the end.

After a wee bit of a nap, Frodo and Sam go find the bigass party that Elrond is throwing because he wrecked shop on the Ringwraiths at the Ford of Bruinen, at which they will be guests of honor. Once they show up, Pippin--who I will put $5 on the table right now to say is at least a half pint deep already--announces, "Here is our noble cousin! Make way for Frodo, Lord of the Ring!" And Gandalf immediately shushes him, because as Pippin freely admits, Gandalf "thinks [he] needs keeping in order." Which... Sorry Pips, but I have to agree with the graybeard at this point on that one. You're a wee bit of a menace with a big mouth.

So this party has a long list of esteemed guests, and for brevity's sake, you're getting this in list form:

A metric ton of Elves

Glorfindel (who is excused from the metric ton by virtue of the fact that he saved the hobbits' asses)

Gandalf (who is allowed to mix despite VERY sketchy ethics around mind reading)

Elrond (who is hosting)

Arwen (who is the host's daughter and Aragorn's big fat crush)

Gloin (who is talkative AF for a dwarf and gives Frodo the cliffsnotes version of The Hobbit as well as how everyone's doing)

Bilbo (who of course has decided he hates parties in his curmudgeonly old age)

Most of the this party is Gloin catching Frodo and the readers up on how everyone from The Hobbit (and their children and grandchildren) are doing, which honestly was kind of lovely to hear. It's really lovely that for the most part, everyone is enjoying their retirement and their kids are active in the world and actively keeping the forces of Mordor at bay. Standouts include Beorn's son Grimbeorn and his men keeping their lands safe, and Bard the Bowman's grandson is ruling the survivors of Laketown.

Another standout--but for reasons that mean I need to whack Tolkien on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper--is Bombur, who apparently has reached a girth of such epic proportions that it takes six dwarves to move him. Guys, I have basic reading comprehension. I can see that this is intended affectionately and probably for comedy, but like...BOMBUR IS A WHOLE-ASS PERSON, WHY IS THE ONLY THING ABOUT HIM THAT HE'S FAT??? WHAT ELSE IS HE UP TO? Is he running an armchair version of the Great Dwarven Bakeoff? Is he writing a cookbook? Give me SOMETHING other than "Bombur's still fat." You cannot define a person by a single trait like this, and given the care with which Tolkien rounds out his other characters, it's jarring AF and I hate it.

The other sour note in this recounting is the fact that Balin, Ori, and Oin are SUPER missing, and at this point I believe are already dead in Moria, but Gloin and the rest of the Dwarves don't know that yet.

Having caught up on all the Dwarven gossip, we finally get Frodo and Bilbo reuniting...and the Ring freaking RUINING what should have been a really nice moment:

When he had dressed, Frodo found that while he slept the ring has been hung around his neck on a new chain, light but strong. Slowly he drew it out. Bilbo put out his hand. But Frodo quickly drew back the Ring. To his distress and amazement he found that he was no longer looking at Bilbo; a shadow seemed to have fallen between them, and through it he found himself eyeing a little wrinkled creature with a hungry face and bony groping hands. He felt a desire to strike him.

This more than anything else tells us that Bilbo did not carry the Ring for so many years unscathed. There is something of Gollum in this little vision, and it's tragic and telling for a few reasons. First, Frodo has not yet internalized pity, as Gandalf warned him to way back in like...oh my god, was it chapter 2? He has no pity for Gollum, and in this moment, he doesn't seem to have pity for the toll the Ring took on Bilbo either. Some of that might be the Ring's influence, and some of it might be a semiconscious revulsion and fear about what the Ring is already doing through it's influence on Frodo. This interaction is probably also colored by the Ring wanting to stay with Frodo, and Bilbo has asked for it, so the Ring's natural assholery is coming out here. This is also a pretty terrifying yardstick for readers. Bilbo had the ring for like 60 years and used it as a party trick. It wasn't really awake, it wasn't really trying to do anything, and it did THIS to Bilbo. Frodo has had the ring in its active state for...I dunno, a month? And he's already losing control over his ability to control himself when the Ring is being assertive. What would (or did?) the Ring show Bilbo about Frodo? Either way, this makes it HELLA clear that Frodo is in real danger and it's going to be an order of magnitude worse than what has happened to Bilbo.

And I think Bilbo kind of knows this, or has a sense of the scale, because he aplogizes:

I am sorry: sorry you have come in for this burden; sorry about everything. Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not.

So I'm not a girl who is big on apologies. Your sorrow does not change reality, and it doesn't meaningfully ameliorate the practicalities of dealing with the hand we've been dealt. But what I do like here is that Bilbo is quietly acknowledging the difference between the neatness of a narrative, which often focuses on adventure and artificially neatens them to have clear beginnings and endings, and life, which is much more of a wibbly wobbly timey wimey ball of stuff without clear beginnings or endings. That is going to resonate, and it's meta in a way that the English major in me adores. Tolkien knows what he's doing here; this is nearly a bastardization of an ekphrasis (where a work of art in one medium is described in another and generally functions to call out the strengths and weaknesses of both to highlight the differences). Except instead of two works of art, Tolkien is comparing narrative to life. My little English major heart is happy, even as the hard, practical side of me is like, "don't bother apologizing, Bilbo. Help or don't, but knock off the thoughts and prayers."

Well, after that mood killer, the party is saved for Frodo by songs, including one chanted by Bilbo that goes on for four straight pages. The evening slowly winds to a close after that, but not before we get a nice little moment between Aragorn and Arwen, and a big old eye pierce through Frodo from Arwen.

That's about where I'm going to leave this one, because up next is the council meeting, and I might need a stiff drink and a party to psych myself up for what I've often heard described as one of the more lengthy and difficult chapters of this book.

#reread #lotr reread #the fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings #chapter 1 #many meetings #books and reading #books #books and novels

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f1 · 1 year

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McLaren didnt play gardening leave card with Sauber on early Seidl move Brown | 2022 F1 season

McLaren Racing’s CEO Zak Brown says they resisted the temptation to “play the gardening leave card” in order to delay Andreas Seidl’s arrival at his new team. The team announced today Seidl will step down from his role as team principal to join Sauber as its new Group CEO. Sauber, whose Formula 1 team is currently branded as Alfa Romeo, will become Audi’s works team in 2026. Seidl previously worked for Porsche, which along with Audi is part of the Volkswagen Group, in the World Endurance Championship. He gave McLaren advanced notice of his planned move, Brown told media including RaceFans. “Andreas, who did an excellent job here at McLaren for the last handful of seasons, in a very transparent manner informed me during the season that he was going to go elsewhere when his contract was up at the end of 2025,” he said. “It was probably pretty clear where that destination would be, which was quite understandable, given his background.” McLaren announced today Andrea Stella will take over from Seidl “with immediate effect”. Brown said they originally planned for Seidl to see out his tenure at the team, which was due to continue for another three seasons. “At that time we intended to continue for the foreseeable future because the relationship is very healthy and his work discipline is very strong. What we were going to do at that point was, at the end of the season, let the world know that change would come in at the end of the ’25 season. “After we intended to go public, the first person I was going to call to see if they would lead McLaren’s Formula 1 team [was] Andrea, but not at that point being sure whether that would be something that he would consider.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free However when it emerged Ferrari intended to replace their team principal Mattia Binotto with Alfa Romeo’s Frederic Vasseur, Sauber board chairman Finn Rausing approached Brown to ask if he would allow Seidl to join them early. “In the fast pace of the F1 environment it became clear that Fred was going to go to Ferrari,” said Brown. “Finn Rausing is someone that I’ve known for a decade and get along with very well. He gave me a call to see if there was a discussion to be had to potentially release Andreas early. “My reaction was if Andrea would be happy to join as team principal, then I’d be very happy to make that change now, which I think puts everyone in their permanent homes for the foreseeable future. So I went about having a conversation with Andrea, [prior to] him having any awareness that Andreas was going to move on for the ’26 season. “After some good conversations Andrea kindly accepted the role, which then put us in a very comfortable position to move forward because Andrea was always our number one choice to lead the team moving forward. So that all came together quite rapidly and here we are with Andrea now as our team principal which myself, our drivers, our team is extremely excited about.” Brown said Seidl let him know his planned move in “sufficient time”, and he decided against requiring to see out a period of “gardening leave” before joining their rivals as is common practice when senior staff move between teams. “We have a great relationship, I know a lot of teams play the ‘gardening leave’ card, but I think as we’ve demonstrated at McLaren, there are ways to dissolve relationships, whether that’s with racing drivers or employees, where you can do things on very workable terms for everyone.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2022 F1 season Browse all 2022 F1 season articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #McLaren didn’t ‘play gardening leave card’ with Sauber on early Seidl move – Brown | 2022 F1 season #Formula 1

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

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Powerful Ch. 3

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: This took too damn long but here we are. Definitely coming out with another part or two, but the next one is gonna start at a huge timeskip so yeah. That'll be fun.

Anywho, Enjoy~

For Reference, this is the dress I describe in here.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

For your second night with Shouta you find yourself lost in thought, staring out at the stars. The stress from before the meeting never disappeared, only delayed. Now it’s all catching up, and your brain is struggling to sort everything out.

Shouta could be on the receiving end of some very misogynistic and traditional clans’ anger very soon. You’re relieved that your future husband is nothing like them, but the backlash he could be getting just by bringing you to a meeting so soon after the announcement is frightening, not to mention some irrational clans may decide to split off and find a rival Yakuza to adopt them. Even so, that’s probably the worst of the outcomes. It’s unlikely you’ll have to worry about either of your safety, though there is still a small chance.

For the second time Shouta wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with his scent and body heat.

“I hope this won’t become a habit, little one.” He presses his cheek to the side of your head, kissing your temple gently. His presence is calming, helps your overactive brain slow down.

“I just needed space to think.” He hums, the sound reverberating through your body.

“What could you be thinking about so late at night?” You don’t really want to tell him, but you figured it’s better than keeping it all in.

“I just worry about the backlash you’ll be getting after the meeting today. This organization is a traditional one, and women have always been kept away from the violent and criminal side of it for centuries. To suddenly name an onna-oyabun, and a woman that previously held a low rank at that, you’re bound to feel some sort of repercussions.” He squeezes you gently, kisses your temple again.

“That’s what you’re worrying your pretty head about? I’ll be fine, little one. Let’s go to bed.” He’s right, you suppose. There isn’t a lot that can affect him or his position, so there isn’t a lot you need to worry about. You nod, taking your weight off of him to go back to the room. You’re a little surprised when he picks you up again, scoops you off your feet and carries you to bed. He tugs you into him just the same as the night before, and once again you fall asleep to the soft thrum of his heart.

The next morning you’re woken by Shouta again. This time you don’t immediately pull away, instead choosing to bask in his embrace a few moments longer. It feels like you’ve known Shouta for years rather than hours, having seen some of the most intimate and private parts of him, and all you want to do is dig deeper. But of course, there’s time for that later.

“Come on, little one. It’s time to wake up. We’re going to see your parents today, and then we’ve got another meeting to attend.” You hum lightly then push off of him, taking a glance at his handsome face before getting out of bed to prepare for the day. You choose a dress you hadn’t worn in a while, one that felt like it would fit today’s events, a flowing black sundress with a halter neckline. Simple black heels pair nicely with it, as well as a small black clutch purse.

You aren’t anxious about Shouta meeting your parents. They aren’t as traditional as most, ideals and views closer to Shouta’s. All parties involved gave their bows in greeting, even Shouta, and brunch went by without a hitch. It wasn’t the usual cringey romcom scene where the parents ask ‘why do you love our daughter’. In fact, they know that the marriage is strategic. Of course, Shouta had made his thoughts clear, that he intends to ensure the union is enjoyable for the both of you. His honesty made a small smile worm its way onto your face, though you managed to hide it well enough.

Soon you’re on the road again, en route to the second meeting. You aren’t too surprised that Shouta already has two scheduled meetings back-to-back after the gala, he is a busy man after all.

The venue is another restaurant, this one not quite as high-end but just as beautiful, the entire massive building shaped like a circle and a koi pond around the perimeter. A bridge is all that connects the sidewalk with the building. You and Shouta are guided through by a host, and out a back door where another bridge connects to a separate island in the extended pond, the structure enclosed with sheer beige curtains.

Again, conversation abruptly stops when you enter. You’ll have to get used to it, you suppose. You sit, and the meeting begins. The subject is mostly territory disputes, bargaining for territory extensions or swaps with the others, all of them trying to work out strategies that benefit not only themselves but other clans as well. You keep silent throughout, listening carefully and learning, taking information and analyzing it. There must be someone Shouta doesn’t like in the meeting, because when the most important details are worked through, he excuses himself to the restroom once again.

You wonder, briefly, why he’d choose to play the same trick a second time in a row. If he does it too often his plan would become transparent, though one could argue not doing it enough would be just as easy to read. You don’t know how often he excuses himself from these meetings, so you decide to leave it in his hands.

Fortunately for you, it would seem no man here is willing to speak about your presence. It’s been almost ten minutes and none of them has said a word to or about you, choosing instead to discuss territories a bit further. Though you were beginning to question why Shouta hadn’t yet returned. Surely one would get suspicious, and one did, glancing toward the main building. It was then you all shifted your attention to Shouta, who stood at the opposite end of the bridge speaking into his phone. So that’s why he’s taking so long.

And unfortunately, that meant these men were relatively safe.

“So what’s the woman doing here?” It was barely a whisper, but you could hear it even over the sounds of the pond. A glance up shows the blonde to your right had leaned over to the man next to him. He’s much younger than the man from yesterday, maybe in his mid-late twenties, his hair clearly not natural. The one he’d whispered to flicked his gaze up, catching your own, and shouldered the blonde who subsequently looked to you. He cracks a cheeky smile, a poor attempt to cover himself really.

“Ah, Onna-oyabun, it’s good to finally see the Black Dragon’s wife-to-be.” It would seem news travels fast, and the blonde is much less bold than the older man. You crack your own smile, a sickly sweet show of teeth that hid a venomous bite.

“The woman has a name. Please, do not be afraid to use it in discussion. And I will tell you exactly what I told the previous oyabun who questioned my presence. I am here because Shouta wants me to be.” His smile doesn’t falter, but his eye visibly twitches at your response. It’s almost amusing to see his composure slip. It’s less amusing when he glances back to where Shouta is still on the phone.

“With all due respect I’m not afraid, I simply do not feel the need. And my question was not directed at you, but at my associate here.” He loops an arm over the shoulder of the man he’d asked, the dark-haired man wide-eyed and nervous. You aren’t sure how to answer his quip without rising tension, but Shouta made it clear you’re to be commanding a room just as he does, so you choose to strike a nerve and stir the pot. For added effect you let your face drop into a deadpan, tilt your chin up just a hair and glare.

“Most would feel it necessary to use a person’s name or title when discussing anything regarding them, especially in their presence. Therefore I can’t help but feel you may not have any respect for me when you clearly should.” You could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth, his nostrils flaring with his anger. You nearly let a smile crawl onto your face at the satisfaction of knowing you’d angered an asshole like him with only your words.

“Maybe I don’t respect you. What are you going to do about it?” The man still under his arm stiffens, a hand slapping the blonde’s chest, his eyes locked on the entrance to the room. Shouta stands there, but the blonde seems to either not notice or not care. You aren’t given time to answer his rhetorical question.

“Nothing. You can’t do a thing about it, because you hold no power over me.” He’s elbowed this time, the dark-haired man trying harder to get the blonde’s attention off of you and onto the man he should be fearing right about now. To be fair, Shouta stands almost behind the blonde, who sits to your right, so it isn’t hard to believe he doesn’t see him. You just let him dig his own grave.

“And you hold no power over me because you’re a woman. A woman out of her place and on the wrong side of business, let alone holding a rank much lower than mine.” The man beneath the blonde’s arm had given up, choosing to bow his head down and stay silent. It’s Shouta who speaks next.

“I believe it’s you who holds a much lower rank than her.” The blonde’s face goes pale, his shit-eating grin dropping faster than a sinking stone.

“In case you hadn’t heard the news yet I’ve assigned her a title, and I expect you to use it. She may have asked you to use her name, but you should address her as Onna-oyabun any time she is brought up in discussion, regardless of whether or not either of us are present.” He strides up behind you and places a hand on your bare shoulder, just like yesterday. You can’t help but feel his positioning is on purpose, physically placing you in front of him.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” You nod, rising from your seat and taking a small bow signaling your leave. Shouta lets a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you out, but you overhear the same blonde whisper under his breath. You’re definitely not meant to hear it.

“The Dragon can’t always be around to save you, brat.” You both freeze in your tracks, Shouta’s eyes wide and nostrils flaring with anger. Before he can turn to react you lean in and whisper in his ear.

“My turn.” He raises an eyebrow at you, then nods, crossing his amrs and leaning against the beam at the entrance. You pivot, pinning the blonde in place with a glare. If looks could kill, he’d be in a casket. Slowly, you begin a steady pace around the table.

“I do not rely on Shouta to help me in these situations. In fact, I could just as easily take a piece of your tongue myself.” You’re on the opposite side of the table now, still taking long, slow strides and glaring down at the man.

“But it is so glaringly obvious that you lack the same level of intelligence I hold, and therefore I would feel guilty to rob you of a muscle that you clearly haven’t learned to use properly,” you stop, standing stock still behind the blonde, “However.” In one swift movement your dagger is stuck in the wooden table directly in front of the blonde, your manicured fingers curled around the handle delicately.

“Should I hear another demeaning or degrading word out of your mouth, I will not hesitate to stain my fingers with your blood.” He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all, whether he’s afraid or not you can’t tell, but you don’t let that affect your performance. You lean in, your lips nearly grazing the shell of his ear.

“You probably wouldn’t even get to taste my blade, but I don’t mind taking my time if you want to savor the tang of steel.” You yank the blade from the wood and sheath it, straightening your posture.

“Had Shouta chosen another woman for his wife you may have been able to actually hurt her feelings with your childish words.” You turn, striding back to where Shouta holds his hand for you to take.

“Unluckily for you, I’m just as volatile as my other half. Be grateful that either of us are merciful. You get to keep your tongue. For now.” It’s cathartic, letting out your anger like that. It’s unlikely that the threat will get you any sort of respect, but fear works just as well in your favor. Respect is something hard to find and even harder earned as a woman in a man’s world, but fear works better against an enemy that dreads change. You can’t help but smirk as you walk away from the chaos you left behind, and as you glance up you see the faintest smirk worming its way onto Shouta’s face.

____

His chest swells with something akin to pride as he waltzes away from the restaurant. He was wrong to assume you were averse to violence, had taken your level-headedness and cool temperament to mean you are not a violent individual. To assume you were either incapable of violence or unable to handle the intensity was obviously a mistake on his part. Watching the blonde freeze up and pale under your hard gaze was extremely satisfying, and he had to admit seeing such controlled rage and sharp words pour from you was enjoyable and, among other things, wildly attractive.

Shouta thinks he should let you handle these situations more often, let you have your fun, maybe even plot to have you purposely go just a little too far and have him reel you back in. Maybe then people may start to understand that you aren’t to be treated lightly, you aren’t just a means to an end, just a glorified housewife. No, you’re much more than that and if it takes bloodied words and bloodier actions to get it through some thick skulls, well, he’s sure you know he’s willing to go there and farther.

But for now, he’d settle with the occasional threat of taking a body part.

____

Once again you stare out at the stars, thinking about the day’s events. You’re almost bouncing on your feet, adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You feel light now, knowing you can take control of an escalating situation. Whether or not you can do it all on your own isn’t a real question. Of course you could do it without Shouta present. His existence alone is enough to ward off any violence directed at you. But it’s your own actions that determine how people will perceive you.

You let Shouta control the first meeting incident, mostly because you had no clue what was going on and no information to work from. Now that you know Shouta is listening and that there’s a purpose behind his absence, you can use it to your advantage and weed out the worst of the bad apples. With that information, and confidence that Shouta will not reprimand you--but will in fact support you--for getting mouthy with said bad apples, you could let loose some of the rage that made your blood boil. It’s freeing, taking entitled men off their precious pedestals and knocking them down a bit.

Shouta wraps his arms around you for the third time, burying his face in your neck and breathing in your scent. He kisses you lightly, feather light presses of his lips against your skin. It really does feel good, being so close to someone.

“I thought this wasn’t becoming a habit.” You sigh and lean into him.

“I’m not quite tired. Honestly I’m thinking about today. I’m still on an adrenaline high just replaying it in my head, the thrill, being able to finally get a word in.” He chuckles, squeezing you a bit tighter to him.

“I’m going to assume you’d never really been allowed to do that sort of thing before.” You nod, a small smile curling your lips. Up until now you lacked any sort of standing or power, and the rush is amazing, for lack of better words. Shouta hums then nips at the shell of your ear, his voice sultry and deep.

“Well if you’re looking to burn energy I think I could help you with that.” Your breath hitches, not prepared for such a suggestion. For a second you believe it, believe he’s really suggesting what you think he is, but you can feel his hands moving and before you can react he’s digging his fingers into your sides, making you giggle uncontrollably.

He’s laughing with you, enjoying watching you try to squirm from his grasp. He releases you, and you run over to the bedroom and duck under the blanket in an attempt to hide, but he only laughs.

“You silly girl, now you’re trapped!” He finds your waist through the thick blanket and doesn’t relent until you’re gasping for air and crying for mercy. He stops, finally, and pulls the blanket off your head. Your face is flushed, your hair splayed wild over the sheets and your chest heaving for oxygen. For a moment his mind drifts to dirtier thoughts of a similar expression he’d like to see. He pushes those thoughts away as you beam up at him, your smile reminding him of sunshine. Rough fingers brush away the hair that had fallen over your face.

“Are you ready to try sleeping now, little one?” You lean your head into his hand, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. The way he’s gazing down at you now, you know you’d never felt so adored in your life.

“Let’s sleep.” He lies down and you get comfortable on top of him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your leg around his waist. His arms lock around you, holding you in place and he kisses the top of your head.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #mafia au

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kkaeyva · 3 years

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work of art

𐐪𐑂 includes: delusional corrupted!albedo

𐐪𐑂 summary: even when the world ends, you will always be part of his canvas.

𐐪𐑂 genres + warnings: angst, major character death, blood mention, swearing, spider mention, food mention, that’s about it i think

𐐪𐑂 note: today i woke up and chose violence on readers’ hearts

𐐪𐑂 word count: 1.3k

albedo’s eyes flutter open to welcome the presence of the morning sun filtering through the window. he hums something quite monotone as he lifts the covers off of him, sitting up to observe the room, as he always does.

“good morning, love,” he presses a gentle kiss to your skin and tries not to flinch when his lips meet glass, cold like it’s been frosted over from chilly winter air. the blonde makes a mental note to make you a warm coffee, maybe something to wake you up— but for now, he’ll focus on himself first. (you are still asleep, after all.)

his blue eyes dig into the bathroom mirror, just barely under enough to penetrate the surface of the cold glass like a pebble into a still lake. he recognizes the person who stares back at him, though he’s not sure he’d call him a friend. a foe would not be a good title either. he blinks himself out of his trance and reaches for his toothbrush.

albedo doesn’t cough very often, and when he does, it’s only a natural reflex to clear his throat; this is one of those times.

“my throat’s quite dry today,” he observes as his fingers brush over the diamond-shaped tattoo that sits upon his neck. the skin feels rough under his fingertips, so he gulps down a glass of water to wash away the feeling. (it does nothing to help though, and albedo is left feeling more unnerved than before.)

the breeze adopts a faint melody of whispers and rhymes; characteristic of mondstadt, albedo thinks. though he was always neutral about the weather, he clearly recalls how rejoiced you used to get whenever you felt the sun on your skin. he smiles absently at the thought and considers stepping outside today, for your sake. and of course, just for your sake, he gives in to the urge.

he steps over sticks and rubble as he walks out into the open. the sun shines as it always does, as if it ignores the issues of the world below; narcissistic, as things are. he turns the other cheek when the sunlight extends a ray to caress his skin with fiery warmth.

nevermind, he sighs as the door creaks shut behind him, this was a bad idea.

the controllable, indoor lighting is much more his style. it works with him when the weather does not; a cooperative being. as such, it illuminates something in the corner of his eye, as if it were the guidance at the end of a tunnel: his forgotten, blank canvases collecting dust.

and, just to humour himself, he picks a less dusty one up. it’s not too big nor small, able to sit comfortably on his well-worn easel. there’s nothing in the room that inspires him, he realizes, but he also doesn’t want to make the trek to dragonspine. (the sun is not very comforting at the moment, you see.) he settles on a tried and true muse— you, of course.

so he begins.

the curve of your jaw is natural to him. so is the way you pucker your lips and the way your eyes crease when you smile. the tone of your skin and how the shadows dance along it has long since been committed to his memory. he makes quick work of painting you, but he feels something is missing. there should be something or someone beside you, smiling and enjoying the environment in the painting just as much.

right, he almost laughs at his own naïvety, he has to be there beside you.

(now, albedo isn’t one to draw self-portraits very often, but he tries to paint himself as accurately as possible when he does. and so he brings a mirror.)

albedo stares perplexedly at the same reflection he ignored this morning. no, no. he must’ve remembered himself wrong. he definitely does not recognize the person staring back at him. it makes him want to cry.

where has the brightness in his eyes gone? and the dark circles around his eyes weren’t there last time he checked. he looks sickly, a pool of guilt and hatred in his eyes. the star at his neck has morphed into a disgusting shade of violet, with spidery legs extending from it like someone smashed a hammer directly into glass. the broken expression he sees in the mirror makes his mind spiral.

he rushes outside. the sun burns as if he poured one of his potions directly onto his skin. it doesn’t matter to him at the moment, though, because surely—

the tall, overarching buildings of mondstadt are now only piles of rubble and ruins littering the ground. there is no wind, not even a light breeze. the statue of the anemo archon is what he assumes to be the giant, grey figure laid down on its side as if it was a god defeated in battle.

like the statue, albedo crumbles. he falls down onto his knees and it brings a stinging, painful shock throughout his body but he really can’t afford to care about that right now.

did he...

did he do this?

he wants to scream. his throat restricts him, much too dry to even let out a hoarse whisper.

he wants to cry. when his tears flow down his face, it feels thick; disgusting. it feels like blood— not his, though. (it’s so much worse when it isn’t his.) he can’t name whose blood it is; there are too many names going through his mind: lisa, jean, amber, venti, sucrose, klee, you. (oh, you.) his tears spill down his face. he gets up only to run away from it, away from the blood. he seeks your comfort as he rushes through the house (please please please be there—)

where are you?

where have you gone?

albedo picks up the picture frame on the nightstand. (funny how it perfectly reflects in the lighting— archons damn this controllable fucking lighting! leave him alone! let him wallow in his own self-destruction!) your smiling eyes look at him fondly. he doesn’t deserve your kindness, does he? but he really, really needs it.

he traces your face with his hands, covered in the transparent blood of all those he cared about and more, and flinches when he meets the icy, cold glass. his mind connects the dots at the last minute. he barely registers the sound of glass breaking as the picture frame hits the floor with a shattering impact.

there is only one last place for him to go.

he stumbles to his easel. the canvas is safe, thank the archons, though his palette and paintbrush have fallen to the floor, long since drying and staining the hardwood with the colours of you.

he gasps lightly, in awe, when you positively glow, not exactly like the sun, nor like the candlelight of the house’s ceiling lamps— something new, something different. something he fears he is too corrupted for. something he wants to protect for the rest of his life.

albedo lifts his hand to caress your face, only to reel back in horror when the only half-dried paint sticks onto his fingers and stains his skin with your colours. your beautiful, perfectly sculpted face is now smudged— just as delicate as he remembers.

and even though you look like you are melting, fading away from his life, he smiles, basking in your light. his throat starts to burn again when he tries to say “i love you,” and the paint on his hands feels more like (your) blood when he tries to wipe it off— he’s become numb to the horrifying feeling, even just for a little while. he’ll spend his time loving you, even if his memory dies like paint going down the drain when he washes it off the palette. he cherishes you so, even when his neck looks and feels like crackled glass. he’ll paint you over and over again, and when he runs out of paint, he’ll find more. he’ll create more, no matter what.

(why?

because you were always a work of art.

and you always will be.

now, would you say the same about him?)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact drabble #genshin x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #albedo.txt #kkaeyva.writes #tw blood #cw food #cw language #cw spiders

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

My Side

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: language, lots of smut, prostate massage, fluff, some mentions of angst (but it’s very minimal)

Genre: Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Y/N has had her entire future planned out ever since she could remember: step one- graduate college (done), step two- find a good-paying job (done), step three- marry someone she adores (done), and step four- have kids (???). She understands that life is full of obstacles, but is it too much to ask for your husband to finally knock you up?

A/N: Big apology to this anon user who requested this and had to wait like 8 billion years for me to finish it.

The fertility clinic was unusually cold, and I found myself shivering in direct contradiction with the sweltering summer heat collecting outside of the office building. Maybe that was the point: the doctors wanted to keep you totally alert while you waited for what seemed like hours for a standard routine visit. Because I could’ve already fallen asleep at this point - taking advantage of my day off from work to do something other than fret over the working condition of my reproductive system.

Of course, there was also the issue of my grumpy husband who had been thoroughly displeased when he found out exactly what a pap smear test implied. “He was totally checking you out when we came in,” Chan said. “Then, he insisted on sticking that thing up your vagina?”

“Oh, give it a rest, Chan,” I said. “I knew they would do that before I even came here.”

“I think he just wanted to look at your pussy,” Chan insisted. “And he did it right in front of me like I didn’t even exist!”

“You weren’t forced to stay in the room,” I pointed out, which I would’ve preferred but Chan insisted on standing over me like some kind of jealous observer who actually wanted to watch such an intimate procedure.

“Yeah, he would’ve preferred that,” Chan said, leaning further back in his chair. “How the hell is this even supposed to help us? We’ve only been trying for a few months.”

“Well, I want to make sure everything is working properly,” I said, and (just to spite him) I glanced down at his crotch. “What if you’re having performance issues, honey?”

“My dick works just fine,” Chan insisted. “But you know what? I think it’s partially your fault that we can’t pregnant. You’re putting too much pressure on him and it’s hard for me to focus.”

“Him?” I questioned with a grin. "Do you really want to personify your penis?”

“That’s not the point!” Chan exclaimed. “Did you even hear me, Y/N?”

“But what is the point, Chan? What exactly are you having trouble focusing on?” I asked. “We’re talking about fucking, not a tax audit. Keep the office out of our bedroom.”

“You don’t think I know the difference?”

“Apparently not since it requires more effort than necessary for you to orgasm,” I screeched, barely getting the words out before the doctor’s return.

Immediately, Chan and I were both forced smiles, pretending like we weren’t just having a pointless argument. “Well,” the doctor said. “Everything is fine on your end, Mrs. Bang. I guess that means we can perform some tests on your husband.”

“Oh, that would be great,” I said, even as Chan shifted restlessly from next to me. “Is there anything you need?”

“We’d like to ask you for a sperm sample,” the doctor replied while handing Chan a clear, transparent plastic cup that he accepted with obvious hesitation. “I’ll give you some time.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking over at Chan who was glaring at the cup as if personally offended by its presence.

But at least he waited until the doctor was gone before looking at me with wide eyes. “What do I do?” Chan asked, holding up the plastic cup while appearing thoroughly taken aback.

“It’s just masturbating,” I hissed at him.

“They want me to jerk off into this cup?” Chan gasped like the idea was so totally perplexing to him.

“How else will they get a sperm sample?” I asked him, rolling my eyes because I was growing impatient.

But Chan still hesitated, using one hand to hold the cup while his other traveled down to the front of his jeans. “Do I just...”

“Yes!” I shouted while standing up from my chair. “It’s nothing hard, Chan, you’ve been masturbating since 9th grade!”

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing to do it here,” Chan argued, and I sighed for what had to be the thousandth time that day.

“There’s a curtain for privacy,” I said, reaching for my bag from the floor. “I’ll be waiting outside until you’re done.”

“Y/N!” Chan whined, but I left without another word, hoping that Chan could get his shit together because I was exhausted and the prospect of the bed waiting for me at home was suddenly everything that I wanted.

It turned out that Chan and I were both perfectly healthy, and there should be nothing impeding my ability to finally get pregnant. Chan even managed to smile after our doctor complimented his sperm because they were powerful swimmers or whatever the hell that meant. But that had also been hours ago, and after a well-deserved nap, I was feeling exceptionally horny. Thankfully, Chan was never the type to turn down sex, and a few innocent kisses had turned into a full-blown pornography session within moments of me circling my hips against the front of his jeans.

“Fuck me, Chan,” I said, and he nodded eagerly as we both helped each other escape the obstacle of our clothes.

“You should apologize to my dick first,” Chan said teasingly when he had me spread open in front of him, fisting his cock as he started jerking himself off.

“What? Why?”

“You questioned my performance earlier,” Chan said with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe my cock isn’t good enough for you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, whining when I tried to wrap my hand around the base of his erection, only to have Chan knock it away with a sharp growl. "Alright!” I groaned. “I’m sorry I questioned your all-powerful shaft, okay? So, can you please just fuck me already?”

Chan chuckled at my easy compliance, and he ran his thumb across the slit of his cock before positioning himself at my wet entrance. “Remember that next time, Y/N,” he said, exhaling shakily when he started to push inside.

“Shit!” I cried, reaching out for his broad shoulders as I held on as tight as possible for the ride waiting ahead of me.

“Such a tight cunt,” Chan remarked, pausing a moment to grind himself against my insides just to feel the pressure around his cock.

“Go faster,” I requested, throwing my head back when he complied, smacking his hips into mine as he searched for the perfect angle to leave me seeing stars.

“Yeah?” Chan purred, and he started thrusting faster than before, dragging his cock against the pulsating walls of my cunt, forcing more arousal to leak out around him. “Look at how good you always take my cock, baby.”

I reveled in the praise, craning my neck to the side just so that I could watch him disappear inside of me over and over again to match the sensation of his thick cock filling me up so well that it was almost mind-numbingly good. The best part was the pleasing sound of Chan’s moans, and I admired the way that he held himself up over me so that his muscles were practically bulging as he rolled his hips with seductive grinds. Meanwhile, I was drooling over the visual of his bulging biceps, whining underneath him because Chan was being unusually rough. Not that I would ever complain since every thrust managed to brush the tip of his cock perfectly against my cervix.

But it was only after Chan reached down to add a finger to the already tight fit of his cock inside my pussy that I remembered something that I had read on the internet as part of my endless pregnancy research. My eyes flew open at the reminder, and the lustful haze surrounding my sex-addled brain quickly vanished. “Hold on, Chan,” I said, pushing against his chest and disrupting the steady rhythm he had been maintaining.

“W-what?” Chan stuttered, pulling out while watching me roll over onto my stomach.

“This is a better position,” I said, raising my ass high into the air before giving him a teasing wiggle.

“Whatever,” Chan grunted, still too gone in his pleasure to care that much about my shenanigans. He immediately caged me in with his thighs, fumbling with his erect cock before aligning the tip with my aching cunt. I was relieved when he started jostling his cock back where it belonged, meandering in elegant strokes that resulted in the best friction.

“Make sure you come,” I told him while decorating the pale skin of his shoulders with nail marks as I reached behind me.

“You first,” Chan insisted, and my heart warmed at his selflessness even while it felt like all the blood inside of me was rushing south, moving through my veins and spilling over with a rapid descent that left me seeing white while Chan moved even quicker, thrusting like a man deprived.

I felt him come only moments later with the familiar heat that I had grown to appreciate more and more over the last few months. Thereafter, I immediately reached for a pillow from behind me, wincing at the sensitivity that lingered between my legs. “What are you doing?” Chan asked when he collapsed on the bed next to me.

“It’s supposed to help,” I said, raising my hips to place the pillow directly underneath me. “This article said that raising your legs after sex can improve your chances.”

“That seems ridiculous, Y/N,” Chan said.

“Hey! Blame your sperm,” I countered. “It’s not my fault they need an extra boost.”

“My sperm are just fine,” Chan grunted. “You heard the doctor. They’re excellent swimmers.”

“This is just a precaution,” I told him, sighing in relief when I reached down to cup my heat, ensuring that all of Chan’s cum stayed inside where it belonged.

For the past several weeks, work had become something of a chore that I was forced to endure on a regular basis. It was often a struggle to force my way through piles of paperwork or tedious emails that always said much of the same thing. After a while, I would find myself glaring at the clock because I was quite certain that time was moving slow for the sole purpose of annoying me.

There was also the issue of dealing with my colleagues, especially the ones who liked to gossip and had effectively made a whole thing out of my failed attempts at pregnancy. “Oh, Y/N,” they would tell me. “It’s been three months, hasn’t it?”

Like they didn’t have anything better to do with their lives besides meddle in mine. But the worst of them all were the ones who decided that they were some kind of authority figures and tried to give me helpful “advice.” Everything from the shit that I had already heard from my doctor and the articles online, to bizarre practices that left me wondering where they found their information.

My manager’s personal assistant was a frequent advocate. She was far more insistent than the rest of them because she already had two kids at home who she described as future Mozarts in the making. And because she had already been successful (twice, I might add), she always sat next to me at lunch with a new suggestion that supposedly guaranteed fertilization.

“It could be that he’s under too much pressure,” she told me before biting into her salad.

“I’m asking him to have sex with me, not invent a new computer,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve both been having a lot of sex, which might seem like a good idea,” she continued. “But it might actually turn out to be far worse.”

“What do you suggest then? Should I kick him out of the bedroom for a week or two?” I snarked, but she was hardly bothered by my sarcastic attitude.

“My husband and I tried stimulating him more directly,” she explained. “Maybe you could try it out.”

“How so?”

“It’s something like a prostate massage,” she revealed in a hushed tone as if it was top-secret information. “There’s all kinds of information about it on the internet.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, wanting nothing more than to brush aside her words, but maybe I was too desperate because I found myself skimming through countless articles after lunch, soaking in the vast amounts of information that I uncovered.

And I left the office that day with a new strategy in mind to surprise my husband.

The moment I first walked through the door, I was yanking off my jacket and calling for Chan who ducked his head out of our bedroom. “Why the hell are you yelling?”

“Because I have a wonderful idea,” I said, practically skipping over to him and offering him a deep kiss.

“Y/N,” Chan murmured against my touch, grabbing my shoulders to pull me back. “What are you going on about?”

“Just take your stupid clothes off,” I said, skirting past him into the bedroom. “I want you naked on the bed.”

“You’re already horny?” Chan chuckled, but he made no protest of yanking his shirt over his head.

“I want to try something,” I told him, opening the door to our closet to search for something that we hadn’t used together in a long time.

“Should I be afraid?” Chan asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he fisted his half-hard erection.

“Not if you have an open mind,” I said, turning around to hold up the bottle of lube, and Chan’s smile instantly vanished.

“What’s that for?”

“Well, tonight I’m using it on you,” I said, laughing at the way his forehead creased in confusion. “My co-worker actually made a pretty useful recommendation today.”

“Okay?...” Chan trailed off with an expression of perfect concentration - like he was doing his absolute best to understand.

“The internet called it prostate milking,” I explained, biting my lower lip to keep myself from laughing at the horrified expression on Chan’s face. “I want to stimulate your prostate.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Chan asked.

“Look, it has a lot of medical benefits,” I said. “Plus, I read that it can feel really good.”

Chan squired anxiously on the bed when I sat down next to him, and I could see that his cock was perfectly flaccid between his legs. “I don’t know, Y/N-”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted him. “This is perfectly normal. Now, be a good boy for me and get on your hands and knees.”

Chan frowned. “Good boy?” he grumbled before obeyed my command, crawling his way up the bed to position himself in the way I had suggested.

“There we go,” I said, softly running a hand down his spine.

“So far, I’m not impressed,” Chan muttered.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I said, situating myself behind him before palming his ass. “This looks better than I remember, Channie.”

“Yeah, I guess the squats helped,” Chan said, and he flinched when I snapped a glove in place over my right hand. “What’s that for?”

“You think I’m gonna mess around your ass without a glove?” I snorted. “That’s not very hygienic.”

“Hygienic, yeah, okay,” Chan huffed, and he let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt when I opened the bottle of lube and drizzled some on my fingertips.

“Hold still,” I said, trying to get him to relax when my finger started circling his asshole, pushing against the tight muscle which wasn’t so easy to penetrate. However, with enough perseverance, I forced one finger inside and heard Chan release a rather unattractive sound.

“How does it feel?” I asked him, trying to move my finger around like I had read online.

“It just feels like you’ve shoved your finger up my ass,” Chan snapped, and I knew not to take it personally since he wasn’t so willing to go along with my crazy scheme in the first place.

“Don’t be so tense,” I said, rubbing my hand along his lower back. “Should I use more lube?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Y/N,” Chan groaned, and I could tell that he was growing frustrated.

I was also losing confidence - wondering if this had been a bad idea because it definitely wasn’t as easy as my co-worker promised. Plus, I could tell that Chan was uncomfortable, squirming around under me while his cock hung limply between his legs. Clearly, he wasn’t finding any pleasure from this, and maybe it was entirely my fault for jumping into this without more preparation.

“Shit, Chan,” I said, removing my finger while releasing a sigh. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done this.”

I cleared my throat, feeling increasingly anxious when Chan refused to respond to my apology. He was still supporting himself on his hands in front of me, chest heaving up and down with each breath. I could see that the bright red tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment and that only made me feel worse because the last thing I wanted to do was make this bad for him.

Eventually, Chan rolled off to the side of the bed, collecting his sweatpants from the floor before walking into the bathroom. I closed my eyes when the door slammed behind him, and I quietly left the bedroom to give Chan some privacy because it was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with the situation.

So much for my co-worker’s stupid suggestion.

However, in the grand scheme of things, I was always the first to recognize when my actions warranted reprimand.

After sleeping on the couch in the living room, I woke-up with a sore lower back and a guilty conscious. Chan had already left for work that morning, and he probably hadn’t paid me a single glance. But I probably deserved his wrath, which meant I would do everything that I could to make it up to him.

Consequently, I found myself flashing a bright smile at Chan’s office secretary who greeted me politely before calling Chan’s phone to see if he had some time to see me. There was a small part of me which worried that Chan might send me away because of last night’s events. Thankfully, his secretary waved me inside and I took a deep breath before opening the door while carrying the packed lunch I prepared for him.

Once inside, Chan offered me a cursory glance that only lasted a brief moment until his attention was once again focused on the file in front of him. “Channie,” I said, wincing at my shrill tone. “I brought you some lunch.”

I hesitated when Chan didn’t respond - walking over to his desk to carefully deposit the bag on his desk. I waited for a brief moment, but Chan refused to acknowledge me, which meant I needed to approach him more directly. “I’m sorry about last night, Channie,” I said, coming around his desk to perch myself on the edge. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m also sorry about the past few months because I’ve been so desperate to finally have my positive pregnancy test that I started to really neglect you.”

The pen Chan had been writing with stopped in the middle of whatever sentence he had been writing, and my husband finally allowed me the privilege of looking into his dark brown eyes. “It’s hard for me to stay mad at you, Y/N,” Chan said, and I nearly burst into tears at the simple declaration.

“You deserve to be mad at me,” I said. “I can’t believe you let me get away with acting like this. You should get the husband of the year award or whatever.”

Chan chuckled, tossing his pencil aside. “Sweetheart, I know how much this means to you, and I want it just as much, but maybe it would be nice if we could be intimate sometimes without worrying about whether or not we’re following all those advice columns you read.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, and I pushed myself away from the edge of the desk and fell onto my knees in front of him - reaching out to grab his thighs between my hands. “What if I blew you right here in the office?”

Chan’s answering moan was enough to solidify my resolve, and I easily worked apart the belt fastening around his suit pants. My fingers worked with an experienced touch because this wasn’t the first time we had done something like this in his big executive office and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan said, grabbing large handfuls of my hair while directing my lips closer to his exposed cock-head.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” I said, offering a tentative lick to his pulsating tip. Chan was already hard, and I gave him a few strokes with my hand before allowing my mouth to take care of the rest - opening wide to take him as deep as I could without gagging.

“Look at you,” Chan snarled, and his fingers traced the seam of my lips stretched obscenely around his cock.

I moaned around his erection, and Chan closed his eyes as he fingers tightened their hold - hips moving every so often to force his cock even further down my throat. But I’m sure it made for one hell of a visual, and I hollowed my cheeks as I ran my tongue across the distinct vein trailing along the underside.

“Keep going,” Chan said, and I could tell that he was close. And I started bobbing my head up and down, mimicking the same effect of his cock fucking my pussy, relaxing my throat and encouraging Chan to do whatever he needed to push himself over the edge.

He eventually came with an exaggerated groan, and I wrinkled my nose at the taste of him. Yet, I knew better than to let anything go to waste, and I struggled around the rawness of my throat as I swallowed - swiping my tongue around the head of his spent cock to clean up the excess.

“Was it good?” I asked him with a hoarse voice.

“Of course it was,” Chan replied, encouraging me off the floor and into his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as I listened to his heart slow back down to normal. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, teasing his lips across mine. “You’re not gonna freak out over the fact that we just wasted my perfectly good semen?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully hitting his shoulder. “It’s never a waste if it makes you come like that.”

He smiled, bringing out the fullness of his dimples, and we sat together while Chan ate his lunch and I mindlessly talked about the latest office gossip. It was moments like these that I loved more than anything about my marriage to Chan - pregnancy be damned. Ironically, it was only a few weeks later that I found myself looking down at a thin white strip with a blue cross displayed across the surface: positive.

#stayverse #skzsmutnetwork #skzwriternet #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic #skz chan fanfic #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #skz fluff #skz reader insert

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angloie · 3 years

Text

Rivals. Nothing more. (1/2)

> Percy is annoyed on how Annabeth always was. Her passion to win, to suceed, to be better than him. He hates that. It's totally not hot, or whatever.

> Warnings: swearing and kinda (?) suggestive undertones, my writing

> Genre: fluff, mutual pinning, Percy having a huge fat crush on Annabeth.

You can find the second part here!

Percy wasn't very fond of smartasses who talked back.

I mean, who wouldn't? They were truly insufferable; acting like they knew everything and spat out facts here and there, all high and mighty.

Annabeth fit that description perfectly.

She's such a stuck up nerd; always beating his spot just opened place higher than him. When they spar, Percy can't help but feel a overwhelming urge pushing him to win. Annabeth struck back with the same passion, every strike, slash, push, thrust, holds her need for victory.

And when Percy does win after a long match? It feels amazing. The refreshing mood when you get exactly what you want- for once beating enemy number one. Annabeth shakes hands with him after and it infuriates him all over again. Why can't she feel more embarassed? Devestated? Shame? She walks away from the training arena calmly like she won over him.

Oh, Annabeth does feel embarassed. Devestated, too. But the look in Percy's eyes when she acts all stoic- seated stop her high horse- is simply electrifying. No better feeling than antagonizing your rivals, right?

They first meet at twelve. Both still young and insufferable, being the natural rivals they were. After all, their godly parents were two of the biggest rivals between one another: Athena and Posiedon.

Then they’re thirteen. Rivals, yes, but they can get along better now. Much better, in fact. Annabeth just feels the tiniest bit of attraction. It's just platonic. That's what she likes to tell herself, really.

Fourteen and Percy and her still bickering and arguing like usual. They can respect each other's boundaries still, all while they make crude jokes about the other. People say that they might be best friends, but the two of them shoot their ideas out of their heads. Who would wan't to be friends with that loser, anyways?

The ripe age of fifteen. Same old Percy, and same old Annabeth. They grow stronger together, and even more stronger as they progress. It's such a heartwarming thing to watch. Annabeth becomes more aware of how Percy looks. His apearance. Once a couple inches shorter than her becomes level-height. And then Percy has the audacity to grow taller than her.

He likes to tease Annabeth about it. Holding books above her head, or anything he can grab that's hers. It's more blood-boiling when you remember the fact that people in ancient Greece associated height with power. Percy? Have more power than her? Unaceptable.

Percy on the flip side becomes more aware of how his endearing his rival becomes. Annabeth puts him in awe sometimes, incredibly witty and smart. But the snobbish attitude from her makes him want to gag. Maybe not as much as it did in the past other years. Annabeth, (as much as he hates to admit it) is someone he can trust. After years of being partners in both battle and else, that was expected. Percy still can't trust Annabeth with his blue cookies though.

Sixteen, finally. A confusing year for Percy. It becomes a growing problem for Percy when his heart beats erratically when Annabeth is near. Her shampoo smells so heavenly from where he's sitting, which is at the end of her bed. Annabeth sits crossed legged from him, flicking the pages of a book. Percy just saw the lights on from her cabin and crawled through the window. That would make her annoyed, right? No other reason; just to annoy her. Totally not because he wants to see her again.

Annabeth doesn't have the slightest clue in her mind about why she let him in. Or why he opted to sit on her bed directly, instead of sitting on one of the very comfortable seats in the large room. Annabeth doesn't complain. The cabin is empty; her other guests singing along at the campfire or elsewhere.

Percy gets up wordlessly as Annabeth continues to stare at her book. Words are flowing through, forming, but she can't seem to focus to comprehend the book.

She notices his arrival when the bed dips with his weight. Percy has a blob of water in mid-air, floating just above the palm of his hand.

“You better not get that on my bed,” Annabeth chides, “Or I'll make sure to kill you.”

“Really now?” Percy makes the water floating towards her, threatening to soak her face. It stops inches before her- stopping from wetting her clothes along with it. She doesn't flinch.

Annabeth gives a sticky sweet smile, but her eyes say otherwise. Something along the lines of 'You better be digging up your grave now'. Percy flinches back in surprise, hands braced in a defensive position. The water shifts and floats back to him... to only float around the room aimlessly.

It's times like this when he feels truly at peace. The air is tense, sure, but he feels calmer than ever before. It's liberating.

The water leaks a bit from the moving. Annabeth is amazed how it moves so effortlessly. It's Percy moving it, but that didn't matter. Sometimes Annabeth wished she had powers... Her smarts and wits were amazing, but she felt that she could achieve even more if she had them. It's a painful thought.

Percy sits back on her bed, staring at the white celling. Different coloured sticky notes and red strings are hooked together by flimsy thumb tacks. Talk about being a nerd.

Both lost in their thoughts and a good book, the water comes back around the room to splash on-

Just fucking peachy.

On Annabeth.

“Percy!” She screeches, hair damp with liquid and some finding it's way on her white shirt. Due to the thin fabric and cool water, he shirt becomes a little more. How do you put it? transparent. Translucent.

“Oh shit-” Percy jerks upwards, moving his hands around frantically. If he stares any longer, he might become more aware of the now visible uhm- undergarments. He also might notice that they are blue, his favourite colour, and how it looks so fucking good on her.

Okay, he's noticed all of that in a matter of seconds.

“Quit staring!” Annabeth protests more, as Percy gets up to face the wall and cover his eyes.

“I didn't mean to!” He says, still facing away from her. “I-it was a accident!” I swear!”

“Quit you're blubbering and get out!”

“Sorry!” Percy says again, and again. “I’m really sorry!” Until he finds his way to the large mahogany door and steps out.

“I- uh-" He tries to reasonate, tries to make up with her. But it's quickly shut off when Annabeth slams the door in his face. Leaving a very stuttering and blushing Percy.

Seventeen. It's a dreadful year for the two of them.

It becomes painfully clear why Percy had been a blushing, embarrassing mess around Annabeth. Clear on why he feels like he's on cloud nine when she pins him down in the sparing arena. And incredibly clear why Percy thinks about her eyes, her smile, her everything. Even the random facts he always thought was annoying and stupid leave marks on his brain.

The oblivious son of Poseidon denies his feelings. Just some rivalry feelings! Some of which include him wanting to kiss Annabeth so bad sometimes, or even wanting to hold hands while walking along the sand. Maybe he does have the occasional dream of some less than appropriate things. Percy's rather embarassed about that.

It's when Grover, his reliable and trustworthy best friend finally makes him realize his true feelings. Ones hidden layers of sarcasm and sharp jokes.

“You think about her twenty four seven,” Grover starts, leaning back on the thick trunk of the oak tree. Percy had just came to him mid-spar to tell him how Annabeth was absolutely destroying him.

“And you also blab about her nonstop. I dunno dude, that sounds like a crush to me.” Grover sighs heavily. Percy blinks once. Then twice. And then three times.

“Do you get jealous when you see her with someone else?”

“Yeah! It's sickening! I feel all weird and stuff, so I-”

“You have a crush~” Grover teases.

“No? I think it's just-"

“Its a crush, Percy. You're so oblivious that it'll never progress more than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Percy scowls at him. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead, caused from the hours of training.

“It means you have to confess.” Grover simply states, getting up. His hooves clomp down on the hard-packed earth as he trails away. “You gotta do it sooner or later, before someone else does it!”

That thought makes bile rise in his stomach. Annabeth? Go out with someone's else? Other than him? No way. Negatory.

But what if she declines? Annabeth is completely free to do that; but Percy would probably die of heartbreak. And if she started to date someone? Percy would explode.

It's settled, then.

He's going to confess.

- a/n:

(re-uploaded to fix some mistakes, lol)

#percabeth fanfic #percy x annabeth #percabeth #percabeth oneshot #percy jackson #pjo thalia #annabeth pjo #pjo fluff #pjo oneshot #pjo #pjo fandom #percabeth fluff #percabeth angst #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #5

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Iolite of Cloudy Skies

Iolite. Its Japanese name was “blue flower stone”. The gem was blue with a purple tint stronger than that of a sapphire and had a unique viscosity that made it seem as if it was coated with a bit of dew. The level of hardness was seven. It was called iolite when treated as a gemstone, but when treated as a type of mineral, it was also called cordierite. It was an eccentric stone, which also appeared to have a grayish brown color instead of blue depending on the angle that one looked at it. Etc., etc.

“What happened, Seigi? Your eyes are dead.”

“How can I put it...? Surfeit, I guess.”

“Haah?”

I couldn’t memorize the stones’ names. They were too many.

The client who left just now had come because they wanted to see many sorts of blue stones, so Richard’s treasure box was packed with a great variety of blues. There were sapphires, of course, and also tanzanites, lapis lazuli, blue chalcedonies and this iolite.

Half a year before I had started working part-time in Etranger, the image I had of gemstones was limited to things such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, I believed. Now I knew about the existence of a stone named zircon, which shone in the same way as a diamond, and also knew about the spinel, which was red like a ruby, as well as that the color of sapphires was not just blue, having a wide range from purple to yellow, and I had seen transparent jades that were impossible to tell apart from emeralds.

If I had as much knowledge of minerals as Tanimoto-san, I would’ve managed to sort stones inside my head by the differences the in chemical composition of each, but unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with such things, and I currently didn’t have enough enthusiasm or willpower to study them. If I were to explain figuratively, it felt like going out to hunt for clams at a beach, and when you innocently dove into the lake, you’d see the Mariana Trench spreading out below. It was a beautiful world, thus also too wide and too deep. And endless. To a terrifying extent.

When I told him roughly this, Richard laughed, the depths of his throat trembling with giggles. “It is not as if you are aiming to obtain a GIA or FGA qualification or anything, right? Isn’t it all right for you to observe as much as you like?”

“That might be the case, but...”

I found myself thinking that it was a waste.

After all, I’d be on my knees listening as Richard went, in earnest, through the trouble of introducing all kinds of stones to me one by one. I often heard from my senpais that “job hunting is a connection for people”, so I felt sorry that my connection with stones remained scoreless. Regardless, it wasn’t like I was suddenly going to get any smarter.

As I said this, Richard laughed again and beckoned me with a hand gesture. He then took something out of his suit’s pocket. One of those subdivision vinyl bags that I’d often see when he was handling jewels in the back room. It seemed there was an iolite inside. There was a label stuck to the bag packed with absorbent cotton, and something was written on it in horizontal letters. “Viking sunstone,” it read. Vikings? Like the ones that you’d imagine wearing horned helmets, carrying axes and coming from the sea on a ship? As I asked for confirmation, the jeweler nodded with a “precisely”.

“The words written on this label are associated with the former ‘purpose’ of the iolite. In the past, people used iolites as sun stones.”

“‘Used’ them as ‘sun stones’...?”

I didn’t understand anything from A to Z. What did that mean? For starters, why was gem of such a cold-looking color made into a stone of the sun?

Before I even had a breach to ask, the beautiful shopkeeper began talking, a smile ghosting his lips, “You might already know this, but a portion of the people residing in the current Britain are descendants of those who went through the Norman Conquest that began around the ninth century - in other words, of the Vikings. They were famous for having the skills to travel long distances, which was unusual at the time, so Seigi. If you were someone who travels the sea for long periods, how would you know your way?” Richard asked me.

A means to know the cardinal directions in the open sea. So it was a situation where there’d be no piece of land to act as a mark. The only thing I could use in such a case was a magnet. No, wait. Richard had said earlier that it was the ninth century. The compass would be invented only much later. I recalled memorizing that this was the invention that triggered the Age of Discovery back in high school for history class. If so, I recalled the words on the label. “Sunstone”. Yeah, it connected.

“They knew the directions by using the stone of the sun?”

“Good for you. Exactly. Isn’t it clear?”

“K-Kinda!”

“Then, what about under cloudy skies, when the sun is not visible, Mr. Enlightened Part-Timer?”

Speaking of which, the weather changed easily at sea. I had also heard that England was a country where the skies tended to be overcast. Bad weather must be frequent in those coastal waters. If the sky stayed cloudy for three or four days, what should I do? Was there nothing more that could be done at sea?

When I made a puzzled face, Richard smiled as though he had hit the nail on the head, his white hands displaying the iolite under a fluorescent light. “For instance, let’s try to put a mark on any of this iolite’s faceted sides with ink. Another one on a different side. On sunny days, we would record in which direction we can see the sun from one of these two points at given times, and on cloudy days, we would look for parts where the two points overlap. When doing so, since this stone can detect even the faintest light, we would be able to tell the sun’s position,” he said.

“So we can know the position of light with that stone...? Then couldn’t it be any other stone?”

“Light refracts. If it were passing through thick clouds, the human eye would find its shine in a different direction from the sun’s actual position. Iolites acted as polarized lenses, so to speak. By using this stone, the sailors could tell the correct position of the sun. Yet the most famous sunstone is not iolite, but a type of refraction stone called ‘Iceland spar’.”

A polarized lens. Now he was talking about physics? But I did remember the stuff about light refraction. Got it; so that was why it was a “stone of the sun”.

“I don’t get it very well, but I feel the gemstone romance from it. I like that kinda thing,” I said enthusiastically, Richard giving me a calm smile.

“You do get it. Just as you said, you ‘don’t understand stones very well but like them either way’. That is exactly why your eyes were open, so you thought only about how far your destination was and felt your teeth set on edge at it. You mustn’t expect to be able to understand everything overnight. Go steady, without rushing. Do not waver at the impatience stuck back-to-back to your ambitions. That is different from having no one to depend on due to not knowing where you are headed. The hardest times are probably the ones when you have no idea where you should go, but you know the exact position of the sun.”

So, in short, I knew exactly where I wanted to be?

While I remained quiet, Richard shrugged and added, “Of course, this is a metaphor. Even if little by little, the stones should definitely be leaving a trace inside you. Aren’t you supposed to be treasuring this instead of chasing after what goes away?”

Lastly, Richard threw in the trivia that, in the world of power stones, the iolite was said to be a stone that showed people the “right direction”. Taking the backbone of it into consideration, that was indeed a convincing talk. But more than that...

“It’d be great if you were by my side forever.”

“Hah?”

“You’re an expert at noticing what’s troubling other people, aren’t you? I really think you’re a handy guy, like a compass. Aah, ‘the world’s most beautiful compass’, huh?”

“Those are quite irrational words, on top of being illogical. You were born in Japan, raised in Japan and aspire to become a public servant of Japan, so why are you calling an English jeweler a ‘compass’?”

“Well, I don’t plan to ask you about how to prepare for the public servant exams, but I can rely on you when I run into bigger problems, right?”

Richard sighed with a face of thorough dismay. I could understand how he felt. This was like a child in nursery school saying, “It’d be great if my teacher could always be there to help me out.” Long story short, I was acting spoiled. Even though he was my superior at work.

“That’s right; about the custard pie that today’s costumer brought, it looks like it’s quick to expire. Wanna eat it? I’ll make some tea.”

“If you would. Aah, the sugar...”

“Holding back on it this month, right? I know.”

“Help me with half of it. The amount of sugar in it concerns me.”

“Leave it to me.”

This guy was truly good at leading the mood around, and the same applied for the not-too-straightforward way that he phrased himself when recommending gemstones to the customers. Apparently, he thought I was feeling down.

I cut the crunchy pie in half while the tea leaves boiled, then shared it with Richard in the reception room and we both ate it. Covered with powdered sugar, the pie was a dangerous white little thing, as the colorless powder could scatter around from the pie’s surface just by us breathing on it a tiny bit, so the snack time turned into a moment of silence. I felt like laughing at the much too surreal sight several times, but if I happened to cause a big damage to the beautiful shopkeeper’s high-grade suit by doing that, my pay would be reduced. In the end, I ate the pie entirely while looking at the wall.

On the way back home that day, as I looked up at the night sky, I thought about the Vikings of over a thousand years ago. It was said that they were after new lands. What about me? Where was I headed? Would there ever be a day when I would fall into a philosophical concern, like, “I have no idea where I’m trying to go”? Perhaps Richard too? I insolently prayed that the stones may help us out at least in times like those.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the purplish-blue night sky. There was no doubt that the stars appearing in the sky had not changed ever since the Vikings’ era. Thinking about that as I walked, I mistook one of the streets I should have turned. I had the feeling that I heard Richard’s voice, telling me to mind at least my own steps. I get it, geez.

I decided to wait patiently for the benefits of the stone. It was best for something like that not to happen, but there was no guarantee that both of us wouldn’t lose our ways at the same time one day.

#the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #housekishou richard #housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #novel #my translation

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hajimewhore · 3 years

Text

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.7k words ➷Humor, fluff, angst, awkwardness, pining, swearing, my tendency to write introspective, the usual stuff in here ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, ✈Part 6, Part 7

“Hajime, let’s walk together without Tooru.”

You hear a voice call out to you the second you step out of the gym. The abrupt call startles you when you register it’s your own voice—it feels a tad cryptic, considering you’re still not used to hearing it unless it’s coming from you.

Hajime is glancing around, keeping his voice low, clearly wary of any prying ears or casual listeners.

“Huh? Yeah, alright.”

You jog up to his side, exiting the school grounds with him. A worry creeps in your gut, but you push it aside to hear what he has to say first. No use getting anxious when he hasn’t even said anything yet.

It’s interesting, your strides are much longer than you’re used to, so you have to actively think about matching your pace with Hajime’s currently shorter legs (you hate to call your legs short, but there is an obvious comparison).

It’s something you never worried about before, considering you were always the one surrounded by long-legged bastards, but it has you thinking that Hajime must’ve always consciously walked in step with you. Even Tooru tended to take long strides (as if he were the main character in an anime, leading the way for the extras).

You try to quell the metaphorical butterflies that are making themselves at home inside your ribcage, but it’s rapidly replacing the anxiety that was stirring from Hajime’s abrupt request.

You’re supposed to be serious right now. You can’t be caught up with how sweet and caring Hajime is, even though he doesn’t voice it and generally has an attitude that needs minor adjustment, but you’re constantly reminded every day how his love language is more about acts of service and silent gestures with no intent for acknowledgement and—

“What’s up?”

You say with as much nonchalance as you can muster, it’s best to cut that train of thought off, especially when said train is being directed by Iwaizumi Hajime—not only filling your brain but the space directly next to you.

You can only assume there’s something pressing he wanted to talk about, maybe practice, judging by his sour expression. Not that he doesn’t always have that expression, but lately he’s been more conscious of the faces he makes in your body. There must be something gnawing at him to let that slip.

But if you’re being completely honest, you’d rather not think about practice after the shit show of a performance you had earlier.

“Something…” he pauses, not quite sure how to phrase it, “weird, happened. And I really don’t want to talk about it, but you should know.”

Hajime looks highly agitated, and very uncomfortable. He’s refusing to meet you in the eye, not particularly focused on anything but the air to his right. He’s struggling to find a way to busy his hands, crossed over his chest—nope not that again– shoving them in his track pants pockets, before deciding to whole up in his jacket pockets.

You think about what could possibly make him that level of awkward, but only one thing comes to mind,

“You didn’t start your period, did you?”

“WHA- WHAT? NO, no, fuck,”

Hajime’s eyes blow wide when you unintentionally remind him about the existence of said bodily function. Is that something he’s going to have to worry about? He needs out of this body, stat.

“Good, cause I just ended, so if you started that would’ve been a little worrying.”

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, and he grimaces, red hue dusting his cheeks, he’s clearly perturbed by the information and realization that was just forced upon him.

“Good to know. Hopefully we’ll swap before the next... one...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t exactly blame him for his discomfort. As much as you’d like a man to physically endure and comprehend the plight of women, you also hope you’ll be able to switch soon.

Besides, that's something best cursed upon someone bad mannered, like Tooru.

It does succeed in reminding you that you and Hajime should put your nose to the grind, if it wasn’t urgent before it’s imperative now that you figure out ways that could possibly switch you back.

Hajime clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, snapping you back to his current dilemma,

“Someone asked you out.”

You blink at the information, that’s what he wanted to talk about? You’ll certainly take that over talking about your shit show of a practice tonight.

“Whaaaat? Again? Jeeeez, I guess I’m just popular today.”

You stick your tongue out with a giggle, sounding extremely misplaced with his voice.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t reprimand you for it, and it makes you tick a brow in curiosity.

“...so uh, did you shoot ‘em down? Finally understanding some of the struggles that women go through, huh?”

You attempt to laugh off the unpleasant aura that’s starting to hang thick in the air.

“Not exactly. I said I’d text him, I wasn’t sure what your answer would be.”

At that, you freeze, turning back to stare at him in shock.

“What? You actually considered my feelings instead of shoving a boy out of my life?”

You halt your steps to turn and grip Hajime by the shoulders, faux tears threatening to spring up and burst any minute. You gaze at him with all of the awe of a proud mother seeing her child matured and all grown up.

“Don’t say it like that! And knock that look off my face, before I do it myself,” he sounds as gruff as he can with a feminine tone, “and of course I care about your feelings! The men that like you are just shit.”

He turns his nose up derisively.

Hajime always figured that was the case, at least, that no man was good enough for his best friend, and the ones that liked you wouldn’t know what to do with you. All that ambition, attitude, spark, with a tendency for being too kind and too caring. What could a high school boy who dicks around in the back of the classroom ever put forward in a relationship with you?

But it seems he was a bit misconstrued. While he’s positive he marked those boys right, there may have been a little jealousy at play he was never made aware of until recent events (in other words, the Matsukawa Incident–he’ll refer to said event as such now).

Hajime unintentionally acted with his own self interest, driving away any boy that made eyes at you, and hid behind his self-proclaimed ‘protective best friend’ title, told himself it was fine, because Oikawa was doing the same—they both knew what was best for their friend.

As if you couldn’t decide for yourself.

Hajime clenches jaw, he should’ve known something was off with him the moment he started going along with Oikawa’s antics.

He doesn’t feel particularly bad or regretful about driving away those glaringly transparent guys, but he does feel a pang of guilt for having done it without your say in the matter.

“Well, thanks, I guess. But who are you talking about anyways, I’m dying to know who’s won Hajime’s stamp of approval.”

You look at him with curiosity brimming from tip to toe, and a deep frown tugs at the corners of his lips, the dread and anxiety he felt before coming back full force. Now that he’s placed the feelings he has for you, it’s demoralizing to see you interested in other men.

“It was Matsukawa,”

Now Matsukawa was different.

Hajime knew him personally, and considered him a close friend. They often spent free time together, had lunch together. They of course played volleyball together, and judging from that alone Hajime could tell that Matsukawa was a man with talent, passion, and drive. He was good natured, and Hajime is positive he’d treat you with the respect you deserved.

“He was the one that asked you out.”

Your eyes widen at the information, and Hajime feels his shoulders tense. Is that excitement? What will you have to say about that?

Well, if you like Matsukawa, Hajime will just have to deal with it.

He easily turned away other boys and suitors, but the fact that it’s Matsukawa changes everything, it’s thrown a fat wrench in his love life (if he can even call your relationship that, he’s starkly aware you’ve always been ‘just friends’, and the Matsukawa Incident isn’t exactly helping any).

Hajime knows Matsukawa can make you happy, there’s no reason to stick his nose into that.

When you’re out of this body swap situation, Hajime will just have to support you from the sidelines. But even then, as your best friend, he has to be with you every step of the way.

Your solo time with Hajime will practically become non-existent if you get yourself a boyfriend. No more movie nights with the two of you, passed out on the couch before the halfway point, no more casual dinner dates, no more coming to each other’s houses at ungodly hours because the other person is only seconds away.

Hajime guesses he could still have all those things, but with the addition of Matsukawa–that thought sits bitter in his mind. And Hajime loves his friend more dearly than he cares to admit, and loves you more than he thought he did, but his heart breaks at the thought of the two of you together.

“Mattsun?”

His spiraling train of thought is dashed the second you burst out into a boisterous laugh, something Hajime wasn’t expecting.

“He’s such a flirt. You should’ve just brushed him off!”

Hajime states in his bafflement. Matsukawa, a flirt? He thought that was just in the moment. What are you talking about? You’re talking about the same Matsukawa, right?

“What? I didn’t know if you liked him or not, I couldn’t say no!”

His face heats with a scowl as he attempts to defend himself, Hajime is in disbelief he let that get to him so much.

“Oh no, you didn’t get all awkward did you? Now he’s gonna think I have a crush on him.”

You huff, and Hajime grows more confused by the second.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

And now he feels the need to defend poor Matsukawa’s honor, though he won’t deny the feeling of relief washing away his anxiety like a massive ocean wake. It’s as if the salt water is mending the dull cracks that started chipping at his heart, your full smile and animated laugh uplifting him.

“Not really, I guess. But he flirts too much, and I always put him in his place! But now that you’ve gone all doe-eyed school girl on him, he’s gonna think his charm or whatever worked.”

You click your tongue, and Hajime bristles, how could he forget about how bad your personality could be? Any time he finds himself in awe over you, it’s always short lived.

“I did not go ‘school girl’ on him, I was confused the entire time! I didn’t even know he was flirting with me at first!”

He rants, seemingly back to himself, and you bite your laughter at the outburst.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that, Hajime.”

“One of my best friends and teammates... was flirting with me.”

“Technically, me.”

“I can’t look at him the same way.”

“If you want, I’ll let you go on the date. But when I’m back in my body, I’m cutting that off.”

Hajime sends you a look that sends a chill down your spine, vibrating from the intensity of it.

“Kidding, Hajime, kidding!”

You put your hands up in defense and Hajime grunts, decidedly not beating your ass, fortunately.

Though, Hajime does feel a swell of happiness at the fact that you don’t seem interested in Matsukawa.

“I guess I should let you know...” you pause and Hajime hums in acknowledgement, “make sure to turn everyone down for me.”

Hajime blinks at your request, and attempts to not sound so desperate and eager when he speaks,

“Uh, sure. Everyone? ‘don’t have anyone you like?”

He figures he’s pushing his luck with that one, but he wants to know the answer, even if he’s shooting in the dark.

“No, not interested in anyone in our classes, or your teammates, for that matter.”

You clarify, and he awkwardly glances away at the pointed comment.

“Right. I can do that,” he glances to you before continuing, “the same goes for me.”

“You already told me that!”

“You need a reminder. I don’t want a random girlfriend I’m not interested in when I’m back in my body, okay?!”

And the reminder was so good to hear, you’re happy Hajime doesn’t have an interest in anyone, even if that gives you the smallest chance.

“Okayyy, okay!”

You laugh, and he hides the way his lips turn up into a smile.

“Now let’s go to my place, we have to do more research on our situation.”

You walk alongside Hajime, ignoring your buzzing pocket, no doubt Tooru. You can’t exactly have him crashing your research sessions, so you decide to come up with an excuse for later.

Days in a row you’ve done research with no concise evidence or method of solving your body swap, you’re starting to feel disheartened by the situation, but at least the weekend is starting.

Even if it’s nearly impossible to come up with anything helpful, you’ll be able to research more and not worry about putting up a front at school or with yours and Hajime’s teammates.

“We don’t even know where to start! This shouldn’t even be possible!”

The research Hajime has also done leads to zero results, of course. And both your frustrations are piled as high as the plushies and extra pillows Hajime threw off your bed.

You flop onto your back, said extra pillows and plushies cushioning your fall. You’re surprised Hajime left some of them on the bed, it seems he had discarded a majority of them.

You can’t believe it, Mr. Tubbs, the big stuffed cat Tooru gifted you years ago, cast aside, face down on the carpet.

If you weren’t so frustrated by your research developments (or lack of), you’d be amused that the only plushes with bed privilege were the ones Hajime won for you at fairs, or gifted you in the past.

“There’s no legitimate research, for obvious reasons, and most of it is just stories or movies.”

Hajime sighs, browsing through tabs on your laptop.

“Are we just going to have to wait?” You bite your tongue, “Hajime, what if we’re just stuck like this?”

The sharp look Hajime sends you makes you freeze up.

“Don’t talk like that. We’ll figure something out.”

He says it so resolutely that it makes you believe him, or at least want to believe in him. And you have no shortage of belief in Hajime’s abilities–if he’s confident you’ll get through this, then you will get through this.

“If you say so, I’ll believe you. Sorry, Hajime.”

He hums at your response, eyeing you carefully as you continue to scroll on your phone through a rabbit’s hole of mysterious threads, and cryptic posts.

Your phone pings with messages from Tooru, the buzz startling you out of an odd Reddit thread that seemed more like a troll or a work of fiction than anything.

The message(s) are in all caps, and you swipe them out as they come up rapidly. You’ll have to think of yet another excuse to give him later, but you’re running out of ideas.

It was suspicious enough as it is that both you and Hajime had a dentist appointment in the same week–Tooru not-so-kindly pointed out that dentist offices were closed after your school’s hours, and it didn’t help that Hajime made the same excuse a day after you.

The both of you were even forced to skip out on your monthly movie night together, and you and Hajime can only claim to be sick for the night so many times.

You don’t intend to, but you wind up forgetting to message Tooru back that night.

The stress is stacked high, everything feels personally against you, and you’re too overwrought to focus on anything other than yours and Hajime’s body swap, let alone school, and especially volleyball practice. Which, is increasingly making Tooru more insufferable than usual.

Swiping out of yet another cryptic site, you briefly worry about what viruses that could’ve creeped onto your phone before searching again.

Mr. Tubbs making an excellent cushion, you roll onto your side as you scroll away.

A/N: I’m excited to say I’ve got the rest of the story mapped out from here, I usually just wing it and have zero follow through lol, but I’m trying my best!

taglist: @cybergovl @babybellecheese @keijikunn @168-cm-png @sexy0android

Masterlist, Part 7

#hq!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime/reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu humor

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cant-blink · 3 years

Text

Trust, Ch. 1

Summary: Despite being hated enemies with Gigan, Mothra ‘agrees’ to go on a date with him and is forced to put trust in this monster. Both Gigan and Mothra are using the FW design.

This was probably going to be one of the worst ideas she’s ever had, but she honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Hearing over and over, the same obnoxious attempts to flirt from this asshole as they battled it out time and time again. Hell, even outside of battle, he would yell out “Give me your number!” every time he saw her. What did that even mean?!

It was clear this alien cyborg didn’t take her seriously, didn’t take their fights seriously and it would be enough to break even the strongest of patience. It certainly has gotten on her very last nerve.

“Maybe after I’m done beating your ass out here,” he had said after slashing at her with a claw. “We can bring the action into the bedroom.”

She finally snapped and without thinking: “Shut up! Shut! UP!! I'll go out with you if you just shut the hell up!”

...

The silence that followed was almost as intense as their battle. The blue cyborg across from her tilted his head slightly, visibly taken aback that she actually said that. But she doesn’t back down from her bluff; one of them was going to fold and it’s not going to be her. Foolish and immature? Perhaps, certainly not something her mother would’ve done.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Mothra continued. “Going on and on about ‘showing me a good time’, how about you actually DO it?”

She was expecting, hoping, that he would immediately deny her, admit that he was just messing around. But instead, she heard him let out a laugh.

“You’re serious?”

She was dead serious, and he knew it. He never actually had any real interest in her, and his taunts were just that: taunts, meant to agitate her. It was funny, hearing the increasing anger in her voice as she kept telling him to shut up and fight. Really, she only encouraged him by saying that. But the idea that she would actually accept his ‘offers’ never crossed his mind and for a moment, he had no idea how to respond. She was bluffing, surely, but does he call her on it?

Well, of course he has to. This has become a game between them, and he was not going to be the one that backpedals. Who knows, maybe it could be fun.

“Alright then, babe,” Gigan chuckled, straightening out from his fighting position. “My bedroom, or yours?”

“No,” she told him firmly, her mind scrambling to avoid THAT fate. “We’re going to do this properly. You want me so bad, take me out on a date first.” Ha! Now the stupid cyborg definitely had to back down first! Surely, he would never-

“A date?” Gigan responded with a combination of disbelief and amusement. Well, now she definitely had his curiosity and still not backing down, he stepped closer. She doesn’t move from where she hovered. “Where to?”

“I don’t know,” Mothra told him. Shit, she’s losing it! “You’re taking me, so wherever you think I’ll have a good time.”

Gigan watched her for a moment. She really was being serious, wasn’t she? Alright then, he’ll bite. He wasn’t exactly sure what SHE would find fun, probably something boring like the beach or something. Nah, he had better ideas on where to go to have fun, and he already had one in mind.

“Tell me, how often have you actually travelled off this pathetic little mudball?”

It was Mothra’s turn to tilt her head and she would narrow her eyes if she could. He’s an alien, so of course he would want to go somewhere off the planet. But... “Never. I can’t fly into space, so whatever you have in mind isn’t going to work.”

Just keep being difficult, he’ll give up eventually.

“Don’t be so sure, babe,” Gigan pressed. “Anyway, there is this one bar I like to go to.”

“A bar?” THAT’S this cyborg’s idea of a date? Granted, she hasn’t been in any sort of relationship before, but she’s next to certain the bar wasn’t the usual choice for a first date. Right? Either way... “In space? Seriously, how exactly am I to get there, genius?”

“I suppose the real question is, how much are you willing to trust me?”

“Not at all.” she deadpanned.

“Smart girl,” Gigan snickered. “Unfortunately, you don’t have much of a choice, do you? After all, I’m taking you, right?” Mothra was clearly not amused with him using her own words against her. “Or do you want to back down? In which case, I’m calling this battle a win.”

“No, no. I’m not backing down from anything.” Her sense of pride forbids it. “But you do know there’s plenty of bars here on Earth, right? We can just go to one of those. I think Anguirus actually has one on Monster Island.”

“Ha! His little shack won’t hold a candle to the one I go to. The location alone is breathtaking, better than anything you’ve ever seen here,” he tells her. “Only the best for you, babe.” He flashed his visor at her, and she flinched the tiniest bit. False alarm, that wasn’t another of his laser blasts; it was his version of a wink.

He didn’t seem to notice her little flinch as he continued. “That and my friend works there. We’ll get free drinks, without me having to kill anyone for them. Which I will happily do in your local bars. You wouldn’t want innocent blood on your claws, would you?”

He really was making it difficult for her, trying to get her to back down first! He got her in a corner here and neither of them were backing down! What have they gotten themselves into?!

Mothra kept her blue compound eyes on him before she glanced back down towards the ground. After a moment, she looked back up at him and saw him watching her expectantly. There was no way out of this unless she surrendered the battle.......

Which will never happen!!

“Fine.” This is going to be a bad idea, but she can’t back down now. Besides, the more time he’s spending with her, the less time he’s causing trouble. This can work to her advantage. “Again: How am I going to get there?”

“You’ll have to come closer, babe,” he tells her. “Real close.”

Yep, this definitely was going to be a bad idea, but nonetheless she flew closer to the cyborg. Her wingbeats were slow and cautious as she approached, hesitating just out of range. She could imagine her mother yelling at her over this. Hell, even Battra would scold her for this stupidity...

“Closer.”

Her claws twitched, as she gave another flap of her wings to close the distance a little bit more. No sooner had she done that than he reached out a claw and pulled her in. Her legs instinctively pushed against him, trying to keep her body off his and, most importantly, off that buzzsaw. But alas, Gigan pulled her back against him, the smirk ever-present on his beak widening.

“Let go,” she demanded.

“Don’t be so difficult, babe,” Gigan chuckled. “I told you, you’re going to have to trust me, whether you like it or not.” His visor moves to her wings, still fanned open and his other claw trails over the scaly surface, slight dust falling as he does. “I suggest you fold these down. My transport won’t accommodate for them.” His voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Would hate to damage such pretty little sails.”

Why does he keep calling her wings that? It’s annoying as fuck, but she has long since given up correcting him on it.

Without a word, she folds her wings down, as tight as she could against her body. Even rolling up the edges to make extra certain they were safe from whatever was about to happen. Unfortunately, she really did have to trust this cyborg at this point, and she hated it.

Gigan started flying straight upwards, carrying her with him. How far up are they going to go? In no time, she was higher than she usually flew and it was already getting colder, especially as they made it above the clouds. The droplets of water on her fur frosted over, and the air was starting to thin. She felt the muscles in her thorax begin to shiver, and her abdomen contracted and expanded quickly to force in more air, the insect equivalent to gasping for breath.

Her heart began to race in her abdomen as she began second-guessing Gigan’s intentions. He was going to take her into space without protection, wasn’t he? Swear, she will reincarnate in an instant just to kick his ass!

She already began pushing against him, about to struggle free to commence the ass-whooping when Gigan suddenly curled up around her. Blue energy escapes him and began to solidify around them. Now she understood what he meant about potentially damaging her wings, as it seemed the energy already had a pre-set boundary to construct around. No doubt her wings would be crushed or even cut right off if they got in its way.

Mothra rolled her wings up more, making sure the edges don’t extend beyond Gigan’s body. Only after the diamond was fully formed around them did she relax her wings, unfolding them to rest against the transparent walls of their space-pod. She can breathe properly again, and her abdomen relaxed as well. She wasn’t going to suffocate, she was going to be okay. Hopefully...

It took a moment for her to comprehend that she’s now trapped in here. With Gigan of all kaiju. The available space was quite snug too, so pushing off of him wasn’t much of an option. He was quite warm at least, especially after the cold trip up here.

What was most alarming, though, was the ever increasing sleepiness blanketing over her. The way it was coming out of nowhere wasn’t natural. Oh, no... She glanced up at the alien’s face, only to find his visor dimming. “Gigan?”

“Hm?” His voice sounded tired and his visor brightened slightly. Oh, he was falling asleep, so whatever it was is effecting him too. That meant it was normal and she wouldn’t be left vulnerable to him. Good, because she wasn’t ready to trust him THAT much. She doesn’t say anything further and instead shifted a bit.

The cyborg made no attempt to hold her still and she moved to peer over his shoulder. His sails were flattened against his back, giving her a clear view behind him.

There was Earth, getting smaller and smaller behind them. They must be accelerating at insane speeds, yet she felt none of the g-forces involved. Very odd.

She felt Gigan rest his chin down onto her back, and she does nothing to shake him off. No, she focused only on her home getting further away. She hoped everyone there will be okay, and that Battra won’t do anything stupid like kill all her humans. Damn idiot counterpart, thinking he knows better than her; ‘The humans are a threat to the world, blah, blah, they must be destroyed, blah blah’. He’s just mad they worshipped her over him.

Her mind was getting cloudy as the sleepiness overtook her and she too rests her chin on Gigan’s shoulder, cheek pressing against his neck. She can feel his breathing slowing down, until it was undetectable.

This wasn’t just sleep, she realized. This was full-blown suspended animation, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that. Didn’t matter, it was already too late to turn back. Her own eyes dimmed and her antennae drooped as she drifted off, her beloved Earth now a speck in the distance.

She’ll be back, she promised.

#gigan #mothra #final wars #godzilla #smol dante reference in there XD #all this because they both don't know how to back down from a bluff #my mothra is that immature

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theloneliestshipper · 3 years

Note

I saw you were taking random prompts and I thought of this lol. Boba and Leia are both single parents and somehow their kids meet and the kids hatch a plan to get their parents together? like a parent trap situation but the kids aren’t siblings & Boba and Leia aren’t divorced?

AO3 link

Family Weekend

Rated G

“This is quite an event,” Leia noted, looking around at the gathering of students and family members. “Were you expecting such a large turnout?”

“No, but I’m glad so many came.” Luke was also surveying the mountainside clearing. “I said I wanted this Jedi order to be more transparent, and letting their families see what they’re doing is part of that.” He turned back to her and grinned. “Plus it’s a two day camping trip. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I guess you’ll find out.” Leia spotted Ben, who had claimed two woven mats for them at the far side of the circle. When she drew closer she saw that Grogu was with him. “It’s no wonder they get along so well,” Han had remarked after meeting the little creature. “He doesn’t talk and Ben talks enough for both of them.”

“His dad couldn’t come,” Ben reported to Leia as she sat down cross-legged on one of the mats. Grogu’s ears twitched and his head lowered.

“Sit with us,” Leia invited, patting the mat. Grogu shuffled over to join them as Luke moved into the center of the circle.

“Okay, we’ll get started now. Thank you for coming. I hope this will help you feel connected to what your child is learning. For the first exercise we’ll be doing a meditation similar to the ones we use in training. Please find a mat and get comf-”

A gasp from the sidelines drew everyone’s attention away from Luke. A man in Mandalorian armor was difficult to ignore. Especially when that man was Boba Fett.

“I’m here for Grogu,” he announced. “His dad asked me to come in his place.”

Grogu perked up immediately and made a happy noise, diffusing some of the tension. Luke smiled at him. “Of course.” He turned back to the bounty hunter. “You can take your seat with him. We were just about to start.”

“Oh great,” Leia murmured when she realized who her neighbor would be. Ben looked up at her, concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just someone I haven’t seen in a while.” She smiled stiffly at Fett as he approached. “Never expected to see you here.”

“That makes two of us.” He lowered himself onto the mat, imitating her cross-legged position. Grogu made a happy noise and put a small hand on his knee.

“Where’s your tent?” Ben asked.

“No one said anything to me about a tent.” When Grogu’s ears pricked up Fett’s helmet tilted in his direction. “Never mind, ad’ika. We’ll sleep under the stars.”

The mediation exercises were familiar to Leia, but she found it hard to concentrate with the bounty hunter beside her. For the last meditation stage Luke invited everyone to lay on their mats and focus on the sky as the first stars of the evening emerged.

“Think about the people who aren’t here with us,” Luke coached from the center of the circle. “See the stars and in the sky and feel the connection between every living thing in the galaxy.”

Some movement caught Leia’s eye and she turned her head just enough to see Grogu laying on Fett’s stomach instead of the mat, his eyes in the sky. “Thinking about your dad?” Fett inquired in a low voice. Grogu made a soft noise and turned over, pressing his cheek against the bounty hunter’s beskar chestplate. His hand came up to pat Grogu’s back.

After the meditation exercise was dinner. R2-D2 circled around with sandwiches and cups of hot broth while Luke built a fire in the center of the circle. The temperature was dropping steadily.

Fett removed his helmet to eat, drawing a few more curious stares from the other attendees. No one was rude enough to say anything about the scars that covered his face and scalp. Leia watched Ben closely to make sure he didn’t comment or stare, but Ben didn’t seem surprised. Perhaps Grogu had said something to him or perhaps, Leia realized, Ben had seen him before. If Fett had somehow become a member of Grogu’s circle, it was possible he had been here before with Grogu’s father.

As she ate she tried to come with a polite way of asking about his connection but for once her verbosity failed her. It was probably better if she just minded her own business. She was preparing to head towards her tent when she realized that Fett was moving towards her. Without his helmet she could see the tension in his eyes. “Is Grogu with your kid?”

“I don’t-” she looked around. “Ben?” She called, but there was no answer. Everyone else was headed to their tents for the night.

“Everything okay?” Luke called back. He was standing in the midst of a group of parents and she didn’t want to worry him.

“It’s fine,” she assured him before turning back to the bounty hunter. “I’m going to say ‘yes,’ because they’re probably together. Where did you see him last?”

“Right over there.” He gestured at the edge of the woods. “ Fek. I knew I should have put a tracking device on that little womp rat.”

“Would they have gone into the woods? It’s pretty dark.”

“Grogu has my helmet.” It was a statement he clearly didn’t enjoy. “Do you have a light or something?”

“Yes,” Leia said, keeping a tight lid on her amusement. She could see his frustration and concern. “Don’t worry,” she added as she fetched a portable lantern from her pack. “We’ll find them.”

She had, of course, a natural advantage but she kept that information to herself. “Let’s start here,” she said, letting the Force guide her steps.

They had gone further into the forest that Leia anticipated. They picked their way over rocks and fallen logs, the lantern casting deep shadows behind the trees. “Great,” she muttered. “This could be a long walk.”

“I’m surprised Solo isn’t here to help keep track of his kid.”

“Han did the field trip to the Mon Calamari opera last week.” There was a steep slope to their left, and Leia sensed something in the brush above them. “Wait.” She put her hand out too suddenly and accidentally connected with the bounty hunter’s thigh. She quickly dropped her hand as he stopped, standing close behind her.

There was murmur of voices further up the slope, and the rustling of brush.

“My dad has a girlfriend now,” Ben was saying. “She’s nice. But mom isn’t even trying to date anyone. She says she’s not lonely even though she really is.”

Leia pressed her lips together tightly. Well, that loth cat was out of the bag. She started to call out to her son, but Ben started talking again.

“Is it because his face is all messed up? I don’t think my mom would mind. Uncle Luke says what she really needs is someone who can make her take a vacation.” A pause. “Yeah, he seems like he could.”

Leia turned her head towards Fett, prepared to roll her eyes and make some flippant remark, but the expression on his face caught her off guard. There was something new in his eyes, some kind of understanding that made her immediately look away.

She could stomach a lot of things. Pity from Boba Fett wasn’t one of them. She started to move forward, to climb the slope to her son, but the loose stones and dirt beneath her feet shifted and she stumbled.

Fett’s arm caught her around the waist and kept her from sliding down any further. Her cheeks burned with annoyance as she put her hand on his arm to steady herself. “I’m fine,” she said, carefully polite as she turned back to face him. “Thank you.”

“Your brother’s an idiot,” He said. His voice was low and warm in a way that Leia wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes dropped to his mouth because he was that close and technically speaking, there was nothing to stop her from kissing Boba Fett. If she wanted to.

“Mom?” Ben scrambled through the brush. “What are you doing here?”

Fett quickly dropped his arm from her waist and Leia put her hands on her hips. “We were looking for you and Grogu.”

Fett’s helmet emerged, animated by Grogu’s shuffling steps. “Next time, ask,” the bounty hunter said as he reclaimed it. “Come on. It’s bedtime.”

“It’s cold,” Ben pointed out. “Too cold to be sleeping outside.” He looked up at Leia, all virtuous concern. She thought about telling him that she knew about his little scheme, but then again, why not let him have fun with his friend? And it was cold.

“Our tent is big enough to share,” she told Fett. “You and Grogu are welcome to join us.”

#boba fett/princess leia #rebelbounty #my fic #prompt #parent trap trope #WHAT IS THIS #fluffy fluff #I wrote...a rom com?#and there was only one tent #Anonymous

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Text

Tender, Strong, Silly and Smart

A/N: I had found this in my drafts half-written and I had decided to give my Georgie a little attention and make this sweet fic for him. Hope you like it <3

PAIRING: George Weasley x reader

How his eyes would linger on you when you walked into the classroom with your hair let down and the front tucked behind your ears. Two purple marbles tucked into your earlobe and a small hoop on the helix of your left ear. You had never let a day go by without wearing those earrings and he knew that to you, they held a special place in your heart- from a special person and maybe one day, he could be that person too. How utterly in love he was and how utterly dumb he was to not show a single hint or any indication that his feelings for you were much bigger than stealing glances of you when nobody was watching. Sometimes they stayed on you, observing you. Your eyes would sparkle like the sun when you talked with your friends yet there was never a glimmer in your eyes when they had to focus on a blackboard, filled with notes and formulas, wand movements and other definitions you were not familiar with.

He had bravery... when his brother was around to encourage him. Though his brother had no clue of his little crush on you and he preferred it that way. Not because he didn’t want Fred to know but because Fred had a tendency to be a bit brash when it came to George and his innocent little crushes. Thought you weren’t that of an innocent of a crush- no. He could see a whole future with you. He could see you laughing with him by your side, he could hear the conversations the two of you would have in the future, Molly loving you, Arthur even more because you were just... so much to love.

And George had never thought of you much until this last year when Umbridge came to Hogwarts. He knew you were more of a rebel yet he was taken by surprise when you started talking back to her soon after a month of her tyranny.

You weren’t much to stand out yet you weren’t invisible either. You could catch attention but you could also become transparent. Now, months have passed and you were still the main prize in his eye. There was just something about you that made you so attractive; the way you walked into class, you stole his attention like you had been calling him on top of your lungs and the gentle smiles you send out to people, even when it’s clear that something heavy is on your mind.

He walked behind you as you were leaving the class, not much interested in conversation. Early classes weren’t your favorite but you still managed to click into conversation quite easily. Your friends were complaining about Umbridge and you didn’t let that opportunity for mocking her slip by any cause.

In a girly, squeaky loud voice, you took your wand out of your pocket and started waving as you spoke. “The MInIstry Is quUIte strict about those ruuullleess, Mister Adequette. Detention!” you laughed and your friends followed, George behind you as well.

“Imagine if she heard you.” one of your friends laughed. “Detention.”

“She wishes she can give me detention. I told her that the Minister is my uncle and that if she dares to punish me any sort of way, he’ll take her position.” you rolled your eyes, walking beside them.

“And she believed you?!” they both widened their eyes.

“Of course not.” you laughed. “She told me she’ll do some digging but I told her that I’ll tell my uncle she’s been digging to get some dirt-”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did.” you opened your eyes. “I’m not taking any shit from anybody. Not even that toad-like little whore and if she tries to punish me any sorts of way, I’ll bring my daddy.”

Your friends laughed to that, thinking you were joking about that but you were quite clear.

“Look. There is no possible way that people in her position would listen to a teenager but if a grownup comes, my strict arse of a father with his lion’s voice, threatening them to sue them- then hey, maybe I win.” you started walking triumphantly.

“I think your mother would be worse.” said one of them.

“Oh.” you laughed. “She’d burn the whole school down.” you let out a laugh.

“Not if Fred and I do it first.” George added out of the blue and you turned around to see him watching you.

“Is that a challenge Mister Weasley?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, then shrugged and continued before he answered. “Though you’re sort of right. Heard her office is somewhat your new home.” you grinned, walking backwards as you kept your eyes on him.

He shook his head, chuckling. “You heard wrong, Miss (Y/n). We’re too witty to be caught by her gromless Slytherin security guards.” he tried to joke around but his eyes on your hand, the scars on your hand made his lips turn the other way. “What’s that?” he pointed and you looked at your hand.

“Oh.” you smiled and started walking beside him again. “Just her little punishment for me the day I told her to bog off.” you tried to laugh it off but he could hear it in the sound of your voice that it wasn’t such a pleasant experiance.

“I did hear of her doing that and nobody does anything-”

“Well, what can you do?” you shrugged, letting the moment fall into the silence and making George to contemplate a bit.

��Can I tell you something?” he stopped and turned towards you.

“A secret?” you gasped excitedly. “Do tell Mister Weasley.” you continued to tease but the look in his eyes made you switch from humor to all-seriousness. “Oh, it’s something really really solemn, innit?”

He chuckled as he saw your eyes change colours as they observed him. You looked adorable when your eyebrows were a bit furrowed and the space between them was wrinkled. It made his heart flutter a bit. “Well it’s not something our fancy new headmaster would like.”

“Well, then Weasley, I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” your eyes glimmered with mischief and how perfectly you phrased those words made him fall for you even faster.

---

The twins were walking fast in front of you, somewhere where you weren’t familiar with but George kept sending you secure glances, which made you feel a bit calmer... and out of breath.

“Oi! Can the two of you slow down, for God’s sake. Not all of us are as in physical shape as the two Gryffindor Quidditch beaters with abnormally long legs.”

Fred and George let out an identical laugh as both of them turned their head back to you, Fred speaking first as usual. “So you’re calling us fit?” he wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously as George snapped his head at him, his smile faltering.

“I’m calling you fast.” you finally caught up to him, finding a large door appear in front of you. “How long was this door here? That’s for not wearing my glasses.” you looked up at George, grinning as he lowered his head and chuckled again.

“It’s the place I was telling you about.”

“Fancy door.” you said as an addition, then looking at them. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“That is some way to treat a lady, lads.” you opened the door by yourself and walked in, finding a large group of teenagers in groups.

“Sorry dolly, had a bit doubts of letting you in.” George appeared in your sight, sending you a wink before he led you to Harry, intorducing you.

You reached your hand to him and shook it. “Nice to officially meet you, Chosen One.” you smiled as Harry chuckled.

“Oh, God.” he kept on smiling. “(y/n) is it?”

“The Only One.” you winked as the rest of the boys chuckled once again.

---

It had been ecstatic, working with people you had always seen walking around school but never got to know them. Everybody was talking to everybody, laughing and having fun as Harry thought all of you one of the best spells.

George didn’t mind to help you around. He started to flirt with you more ofter, which led you a bit stained in a rosy colour. He pointed it out almost every time, which made you blush even harder. It was a game, between the two of you, since he wasn’t the only one to flirt. You made him blush on occasions as well.

Since you had started coming to those meetings, you had become closer to some people you never thought you would. Everybody helped everybody and Harry was the sweetest boy you had met, trying to help you conjur your own patronus.

“Just practice. You’ll get it eventually.” he squeezed your shoulder as you simpered.

George had seen you struggling with it, each time you tried with determination in your eyes- then disappointment as it failed. The colour in your eyes laid heavy and he knew you kept trying to think of a happy memory but the more you tried, the more sad ones kept entering.

He approached you with a soft smile. “Anything I can do?”

“I just- I don’t know. I’m trying so hard.” you huffed, looking away. “I just can’t think of a happy memory for some reason.”

“Give it time. You don’t have to succeed all in first try.” he tucked a strand of fallen hair behind your ear, making you look up at his brown sugar eyes and cause your whole body feel like a giant rubber. You felt the heat reach your cheeks and as much as you knew he noticed that, he didn’t say a single thing, only smiled. “These earrings are nice.” he smiled, taking a hold of one for just a brief moment.

“Yeah..” you smiled, taking a hold of the same one. “It came with a ring and a necklace.”

“Must have been expensive.”

“Probably.” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know since I got it for my birthday.”

“Anybody special?”

“Mum.” you smiled, remembering back on the day and holding your necklace this time. “I was having some rough time with my grades and I’ve been just in a fight with my dad- him and I always have a row- it’s like a daily thing but one day my mum was going to the jewelry store in town to clean one of her rings- she wears a lot of gold.” you looked up at him and saw him smiling at you, listening as well. “I saw these gorgeous purple rocks just screaming to me, you know? And I couldn’t take my eyes of them and I just gave my mum the look and she bought them for me for my birthday.”

He kept watching you as you did him, a beautiful trusting moment, shared between the two of you and the way he watched you, with those perfect brown eyes- it made you realize that you might actually be falling for this boy.

He took a step behind you, let his hand travel down your dominant hand and raise it up until your wand was pointed at the ceiling. “Well, then. Try that.” he spoke quietly, his breath hitting your neck and causing goosebumps to rise up on your skin. You looked at him just for a moment, to make you beg for air as he took it all from your lungs. You smiled, eyes still on him, moment still present, never even left. The way his hands were gently placed on your arms and how gently, like a feather, flew away from them to give you your space.

With heated cheeks and your mind on George, you looked up at the ceiling, at the spot where your wand was pointing and you didn’t think back on the day you had gotten your set of earrings, nor your mum but just that moment, that faint, brief yet memorable happy moment you had just shared with him.

There it was; forming slowly yet forming all-together in a majestic tropical animal with a large trunk and large ears- it almost made you cry at how amazingly the elephant came close to your personality: tender, strong, silly and smart.

Everybody cheered and Harry had shouted a well done from the other side of the room but you weren’t really paying attention to Harry. Your eyes were on George, who had watched you with lovely adoration. When your perfect patronus left the sky, you kept a few moments to take it all in, just seeing the elephant in your head as you did just a few moments ago.

You didn’t know this would effect you as much as it did but seeing that gorgeous blue light, swimming on the sky and looking at you with those innocent eyes- it did bring tears to your eyes- happy tears.

“Didn’t I tell you, you could do it?” he appeared at your side and you laughed, taking him into a hug.

“Thank you so much, George.” you felt his hands wrap around you as well, pulling you close to him and lifting a bit on your toes.

You let out a giggle, pulling away and looking at him.

“An elephant.”

“Astounding, wasn’t he?” he beamed up at him.

His eyes kept looking at yours, his hands still resting on your hips. “Certainly.”

“Woops.” Fred crashed into George, making him crash into you and let you stumble your own two feet almost hitting the floor if it wasn’t for George’s arms tightly wrapped around you. “Pardon me. Slippy floors.” Fred moved past you, pushing you closer to George and causing you to laugh.

George couldn’t help himself but join you- and by brash, he meant his brother was literally pushy when it came to girls George fancied. He placed you firmly back on your own to feet as you kept yourself close to him, letting the silence take over.

“Quite a clumsy brother you have there.” you smiled, looking over at Fred who was grinning from a far, observing the two of you.

“He means well.” George smirked, stepping from one foot to the other.

“Oh. “ you smirked as well. “And by that you mean?”

“He just gave a good opportunity to ask you if you would like to go on a date with me?”

You couldn’t help yourself but to giggle, looking away for a moment then back at George. You wrapped your hands around his neck and swayed on your feet as well. “Well, if you had already saved me from falling- how could I ever say no to my knight in a shining armour?” you teased, causing him to chuckle again.

“You flatter me, Miss (y/l/n) but I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

“Yes.”

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader

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a-student-out-of-time · 3 years

Note

((Mod, I'm not going to lie, the way you're handling Mikan's past in this blog really makes anon massively uncomfortable. You just had Kokoro indirectly imply that being bullied and suffering doesn't make you worthy of sympathy or compassion. I know you're trying to meet Hiyoko fans halfway and everything, but it feels like you're pandering to them so hard you've actually started to hate bullying victims, like Hiyoko fans do. You're "considering other views" SO much you've become an apologist.))

//I am genuinely confused by what you’re saying here, because none of that is what’s going on.

1. Hiyoko has nothing to do with any of this. At all. She wasn’t mentioned at any point, so I have no idea where you would get this impression that this was meant as pandering or that I’ve become an apologist. That has nothing to do with this conversation at all.

2. None of what you mentioned is what was said. Kokoro was not saying that being the victim of bullying or suffering “doesn't make you worthy of sympathy or compassion.” What she was trying to say was putting your own suffering at the center of the universe and all your experiences is the problem. Of course people who’ve suffered and been through horrible shit that they don’t deserve are worthy of love and compassion, but in the worse cases, they can also develop victim complexes where they feel that, because their lives have been horrible, they feel like they deserve compensation from the universe. Which is often a result of them not getting that love and compassion early on.

The classic example is the villain who does horrible shit because they had a bad childhood or they lost someone they love, and they feel they deserve something in return, like the universe owes them, to the point that other people have to suffer for it. But it’s okay, because the villain’s suffering is justified but everyone else is complaining too much.

3. Morality is not black and white. Like it or not, it’s entirely possible to be the victim of unfortunate circumstances and still be an asshole. Victim complexes, self-pity and the desire for some kind of compensation are the cause of a lot of suffering themselves, where people put their own pain and their own misery at the center of the universe. Often because doing makes them feel important or they torture themselves with it because they don’t feel they’ll ever be important.

What Kokoro was saying was that how you respond to the pain and suffering your life is what really matters. Not by fixating on how mean bullies were to you, not playing misery poker and decided your suffering on how your misery isn’t important or is worthy of blotting out the sun, but thinking about how you can fix it and live a better life.

The sad truth is that wallowing in self-pity is a fundamentally selfish act, and no matter how personal you try and make it, it hurts other people just as much as it hurts you. And it can lead to people pushing away and even hurting those who are only trying to help. You devalue those around you because, no matter how much they care about you, you ultimately give them the impression that they’re wasting your time on you. And that hurts.

4. I absolutely love Mikan as a character, not because she’s cute or “uwu she did nothing wrong.” No, she did a lot of things wrong. A lot of her decisions were, if you look through the story and her free time events, fundamentally selfish: she admits that she only really healed herself for her own sake, she went into medicine partly because she liked having people depend on her, and, when her despair self came out, she

While I have my own issues with Chapter 3, Mikan is my favorite DR character because of how complex she is. She is kind and she is loving, but she wrestles with feelings of worthlessness which often manifest in self-destructive and outwardly-destructive ways. What she needs is compassion and understanding, and love from someone who isn’t called the Ultimate Despair. That’s really what despair is: deciding that your life doesn’t matter, nothing matters, only misery matters. It hurts you and it hurts other people.

4. I don’t say all this as judgement from an outsider. This is quite frankly the most important life lesson I’ve ever had to learn. I’ve been through all of this myself. I’ve hurt people and ruined good relationships I’ve had because I ended up using a lot of them as emotional crutches to hold myself up, rather than valuing them as I should’ve.

Depression, anxiety and low self-worth are the most painful and awful things to deal with, and I still struggle with them. It clouds your mind and makes pain and misery and sadness seem like the most important things in the world, and of course people are gonna feel like shit when that happens

We have a bit of a problem with selfish desires, where a lot of the time, we assume that being selfish is a fundamentally bad thing and doing so makes you a bad person. Really, doing good things for yourself- when you assign value to yourself as a person in spite of your circumstances, when you can look at your mistakes and say “Alright, I’ll try and learn from this,” and when you stop fixating on all your pain and suffering and mistakes- is the most important thing in the world.

And yes, a big part of that is being compassionate and understanding toward those who’ve suffered. But they also need to be willing to accept the negative thoughts and actions that might’ve emerged from that maelstrom of misery, because ignoring it only leads to it festering and welling up inside you. Ignoring a problem and telling people they’ve done nothing wrong can and does lead to those problems manifesting in new ways.

Ultimately, at the core of all of this is the need for open, honest and compassionate communication, to be able to say that, in spite of all of this, you are still worthy of love and acceptance. You have people who want you to get better, but you also need to be better to yourself. Not focusing on your pain, you problems, or how unhappy you are with life, but asking what you can do to fix it all and how you can get better. And also understanding that growth takes time and, while you might stumble and make mistakes, it’s important to keep moving forward regardless. Be good to others and to yourselves- that’s my advice for living your best life.

If none of this has been clear in the story so far or if I’ve given the impression of something else, then I apologize and will try and make that more clear in the future. I understand that not everyone has had my experiences or been where I or these characters have been, and I hope this has made my position more transparent to you.

Also, apologies for talking about this for so long, but this kind of story is important to me personally and I’d like to reach out to others so they can understand that.

#mod talks #a student out of time

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

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my-introvert-hideout · 3 years

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💗 Edogawa Ranpo: ENTP [BSD] 💗

Ne > Ti > Fe > Si

*Based off Season 1 of the anime [Chapters 1-12] with character-based spoilers from the Wikis. I’ve also read a synopsis of “The Untold Story of the Founding of the Detective Agency,” which gives lots of insight into Fukuzawa and Ranpo in particular, and also I know Yosano’s backstory. The Onsen Drama will also make an appearance occasionally. I feel like I have a good enough grasp on their characters for this and will only add more examples rather than changing types in the future. (At least, I think so.)

I’VE ALSO SEEN HIM TYPED AS: INTP, INTJ, ENTJ

Ranpo’s Ne is overwhelming (in a positive way, of course). In contrast to Ni, Ne prefers exploring already-established external ideas rather than focusing on creating a specific one for themselves. As a result, they have a more open appearance / attitude than an Ni-dom. Ne is well-known for its more childlike charm, which is often why people type Dazai as ENTP. (Ranpo’s fabulous extroverted intuition is what caused him to start that pillow fight at the onsen 🤭) Exxx types are more likely to be bored, as well, since they are in the external world. While introverts also get bored, they find that playing in their minds is pretty natural. Ne also prefers to take time working through different ways do go about things; Ni does this subconsciously and quite quickly, especially if Se is higher in a person’s function stack. When discussing what to do about Atsushi’s abduction, Ranpo suggested going to the police instead of pushing for Fe or Te like Tanizaki or Kunikida. Fe and Te are extroverted decision-making functions and Ne is an extroverted idea-exploring and information-gathering function. (His Ti is also very involved in that debate, but that goes without saying!) Ne’s ability to generate a plethora of ideas at once is probably the starting point of how his Ultra Deduction works. Si’s experience, Ti’s logic, and Fe’s understanding of others then whittles those possibilities down. But he’s also a genius. So take that process and amplify it. I’m also trying out this theory that generally someone’s likes and dislikes correspond to whether or not they’re a sensor or intuitive.

LIKES: Logical thinking, fantastic tales

DISLIKES: Common sense, useless knowledge

Literally 100% intuitive things.

Ti is, again, pretty much the deduction function, and is in the same position as Dazai's. During the Yamagiwa-Sugimoto case, both characters identified the killer correctly using this function but relied on different perceiving axes. Ti is also seen as very witty, fast, sharp, and sometimes subtle while Te is more overtly blunt and surface-level since it doesn’t care as much about Fe. I can’t see Ranpo using Te consciously, especially when considering his surprising use of Fe. I think the xNTJ perception of him comes from later on in the series, where he showcases a more serious and leaderlike persona. An ENTP’s shadow functions are Ni, Te, Fi, and Se -- you could think of it as a mini INTJ being inside of them. And if that INTJ-ness is being paired with his more extroverted nature, it’s understandable to peg him as an ENTJ. But still, I don’t think anyone would compare his usual self to Kunikida!

Like Dazai, Ranpo uses Fe for manipulation. However, this is more controlled, mainly directed towards enemies and suspects (or to get people to buy him snacks lol) while Dazai will even play mind games with ‘friends’ and allies. Remember him making Sugimoto cry when he revealed Yamagiwa’s last words? But honestly, I think Ranpo’s parents, Yosano, and Fukuzawa have really helped develop the greatest detective’s Fi. It’s one of the reasons I prefer Ranpo over Dazai; I don’t really have introverted feeling in my stack, so it’s not that I’m drawn to the same function in him. It’s the fact that Ranpo is more transparent about his intentions. Sure, he is a bit secretive in some ways, but he clearly loves the ADA and will do anything to protect those he cares about. It’s even revealed he fully knows that he doesn’t have an ability, but continues with the act in order to keep the harmony of the ADA. On another note, I’m not sure if he kept quiet at the onsen about not beng able to sleep when it’s completely dark: It could be that he was embarrassed about it or that he didn’t want to be an inconvenience. (I seriously doubt he just forgot to mention it until the lights were already out.) But either way, it makes me go 🥺. He also doesn’t resort to lying as quickly as Dazai does. It’s understandable why, but Dazai just doesn’t operate quite like this -- not yet, at least. And similarly to Sir Suicide™, Ranpo uses Fe to create a bit of a mask. It’s not for the same reasons, but it largely produces the same result. AND. I don’t know why people don’t really talk about this, but he took off his hat in respect when he saw Yamagiwa’s body and called her a lady -- without the teasing tone of voice Dazai might have. Maybe I’m just weird, but that scene really makes me happy, for some reason. Praise is also a very Fe-heavy thing, and I’m sure we all know how Ranpo is about praise LOL.

Frankly, Si is an interesting part of his personality. In the main series, it manifests as a distaste of ‘boring’ things, and he doesn’t seem particularly impressed with this function being Atsushi’s go-to. Inferior Si isn’t particularly good at remembering how to do things. Riding trains, anyone? On the other hand, his backstory actually has quite a bit of this. In The Untold Story of the Founding of the Detective Agency, Ranpo refuses to believe Fukuzawa that he’s incredibly gifted -- because he was clinging so tightly to his parents’ teachings. Right before Fukuzawa tells Ranpo that he has an ability, the latter told Fukuzawa to scold him, as he's dealt with it plenty of times already to know where the conversation is heading. (Excuse me while my heart shatters.) Regardless, after the lie, Ranpo ran off to stop the murder from taking place while deciding that “Since they’re ignorant infants--I’ll have to protect them!” Yes, his trademark cockiness is there, but that Si sense of duty and the Fe wish to protect is clearly present. I’d also like to point out that common sense and ‘useless’ trivia knowledge are literally Si incarnate.

Here’s a short excerpt from Ranpo’s point of view: ‘The reason he gave me those glasses was also for my sake. I’m okay with that, for now at least. Special ability user has a cooler ring to it anyway. (I got praised, so it’s all good.)’ *playing with kitten* “Show me your tummy---!”

Fi Blind Spot: Like Dazai, this is relatively self-explanatory. He values Fi more than the ex-executive, but not to the degree someone with that function in their stack does. I mean, one of his quotes is even about his willingness to turn himself into a demon if it meant the ADA would be fine! That’s a pretty clear use of Fe and a disregard of Fi.

Ne-Fe Loop: ‘An ENTP in an Ne-Fe loop would imagine a bunch of negative future scenarios and lose sight of reality as they fail to apply logic to their unrealistic beliefs. In addition, they become extremely sensitive to others’ opinions of them and are extremely concerned with being accepted by those around them and feeling disliked.’ source Just head on over to Fukuzawa and Ranpo’s Dynamic.

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵇᵉᵃⁿ

#edogawa ranpo #bsd ranpo #entp #entp mbti #entp personality #mbti #mbti types #bungo stray dogs #character analysis #typology #infj x entp #happy valentines day!

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