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axelsagewrites · 6 months

Note

I need more Jace x reader modern au

like maybe enemies to lovers or something and he’s cocky, and smuttyyyy

Jace Velaryon*Studying

Pairing: Modern!Jace x afab!reader

Word count: 2483

Warnings: enemies to lovers, bet, cocky jace, make out, fingering, f!recieving oral, praise, teasing, smut 18+

Masterlist here

The door to your dorm slammed behind you as you collapsed in a heap on your bed. Aly and Helena sat on Helena’s bed, snickering at your rant. “He is such an insecure, brain dead, stuck up, trust fund baby with a god complex and I bet his dick isn’t even that big- “

“Remember he is Hel’s nephew,” Aly cut you off.

You groaned as you flung your head even harder against the pillow. “Don’t worry. I know he sucks,” your roommate chuckled, “You’re lucky you only see him during the term. Family gatherings are like a dick measuring competition with all the guys,”

“I can only imagine,” you said, shuddering at the idea of dealing with more Jace, “I just don’t get what his problem is!”

“What did he do this time?”

“So, I think for this part of the project- “you said, pointing at the notes you’d laid out as you tried to ignore Jace’s attempts to annoy you.

He was sat, his chin resting on his hand, facing you, staring at you, “So why don’t we hang out?” he asked, brushing the hair out your face.

You huffed, slapping his hand away, “Because you never do any work,” you scoffed.

Jace grinned, sitting back in his chair, “What so all I gotta do is be a nerd like you and I can take you out?”

Work was clearly not going to get done so you dropped your pencil and turned to face him, “One, I’m not a nerd. Two, it’s not nerdy to not wanna flunk out. and three I don’t go on dates with pompous assholes,”

“You just don’t go on dates sweetheart,” Jace revealed in the way your face flushed and your eyes rolled, “Maybe if you did you might loosen up a little,”

“Please, you’re loose enough for the both of us. Now can we please work on this? I’m not having you bring down my average,”

Jace rolled his eyes but finally sat up to work. He actually began to read the notes you had when suddenly he stopped, “Lets make this interesting,” he smirked.

You face palmed at his words, “Let’s not,” you groaned.

“If I get an A on this we go on a date,” Jace said, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees.

“What so I have to do all the work and also suffer?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

Jace rolled his eyes but there was a grin on his face, “Fine. If I get an A on this and the next essay due,”

Your eyes narrowed on him, something not adding up, “Isn’t your average like a C?”

“D actually,” he grinned, leaning back in his chair like it was something to be proud of, “But I can do anything if I put my mind to it,”

“Aw is that what your mommy told you? Yeah, no that’s what the trust funds for,” you mocked but Jace’s gaze was unwavering, “Ugh fine,” you finally agreed, dramatically rolling your eyes for effect, “What do I get when you lose?”

“If I lose,” Jace corrected with a grin, “and if somehow, I do lose then I will do whatever you ask of me. No matter how embarrassing. Scouts honour,” he said, placing his hand to his chest.

You eyed him up, wondering just how good it would be to force him to run through the Greek life street in a frilly pink bikini, “Fine. You’re on,”

Heleana and Aly got a kick out of the story and for the rest of the evening you brainstormed embarrassing ideas. However, over the next few days you got a bad feeling. Each time you met with Jace to do the project he actually did the work. One time you walked into the library just to return a book and you saw him sat there studying. There was even a girl trying to flirt with him the whole time sat on the table, but he just ignored her.

“What if he actually wins?” You asked your friends as the three of you walked into the dining hall.

Helana shrugged when she grabbed her tray, “He actually used to be pretty smart. Got mostly As in high school,” You and Aly both stopped in your tracks at this, “What?”

“You didn’t think to tell us this?” you asked, eyes wide but she just shrugged.

Aly however was looking off in the distance, “Is that Jace studying?” she asked, nodding to one of the loudest tables in the room.

Sure, enough he was sat at the end of his frat table that was all a mix of hungover, drunk, or high. All but Jace who sat at the end studying. “I am so fucked,”

After handing in your partner project that Friday you did your best to put this whole Jace mess out your mind. That worked great until Wednesday rolled around, and the email blast of results came out.

“Hey study buddy,” Jace said as he flung his arm over your shoulder in the hallway, “You seen this yet?” he asked, shoving the phone in your face.

“Is this your first A or something?” you scoffed.

Jace grinned, his arm staying put on your shoulder as he slipped his phone away, “Nope,” he said, popping the P. “Just excited for our date,” the words made you shudder, or maybe it was the way it seemed everyone was staring, “Do you like Italian food? I know a place- “

“You haven’t won yet you know,” you said, pulling away till you were stood in front of him, arms crossed, “You still need an A in the essay,”

“Pft easy peasey,” Jace scoffed, a smirk returning to his lips as he pushed the hair out your eyes, “Besides, I like a challenge,” he added, his eyes wandering down to your lips, “Start outfit planning sweetheart,” he said as he began to walk away.

“You’re not gonna win!” you called after him despite him already turning his back.

“Not with that attitude doll,”

“I never thought id see the day Jace became a nerd,” Heleana mused as you all sat in the dining hall.HA

the essay was due tomorrow and for the past two weeks Jace seemed less like himself. Aka he wasn’t parting every night, “He even skipped the football teams party last night,” Aly, the social butterfly of the three of you said.

“Why did the even have a party? They lost,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I didn’t realise he was gonna take this so seriously,” you muttered.

“Maybe he actually likes you,” Aly teased as her and Hel began making obnoxious kissy noises and love hearts at each other, “Yous would have such cute babies!”

“I hate you both,”

The day had come. The marks were out. you got an A and glowing notes from your professor however you also got a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. However, when class rolled around that day there was a new worry. Jace never showed up.

There was no reason for you to be worried. After all he wasn’t your problem. He was probably hungover or skipping to hook up with some girl or out doing something equally stupid. Still, you couldn’t help yourself.

It wasn’t exactly hard to find Jace’s dorm. All you had to do was follow the smell of axe body spray and ask one of his floormates who quickly pointed you in the right direction before wolf whistling. “Assholes,” you muttered under your breath as you knocked on the door and waited.

Jace opened, his eyes widening in shock, but he quickly tried to play it off, “Hey,” he said, leaning his arm against the door in that super obnoxious booktok way that was unreasonably attractive. It didn’t help he was in a half zipped up hoodie with his abs on full display or low hung grey sweatpants, “Cat got your tongue sweetheart?” he teased, smirking when he noticed your eyes had wandered.

“Shut up,” you snapped, rolling your eyes, “You never showed up to class today and I was just wondering you know,” you said, shrugging as you realised how potentially desperate you now looked.

Jace’s arm dropped from the doorway, his hands ending up in his pockets, “Oh yeah. Got a B so you know. Dumb class anyway,” he shrugged, eyes refusing to meet yours.

Your heart sank, “Well it was a really hard one. Apparently, she was really tough this time,”

“What did you get?”

“An A,” you said making Jace roll his eyes, “Only like a low A though. Like barely an A,”

“Cmon, you don’t need to do that,” Jace said, almost sounding annoyed, “You don’t need to dumb yourself down for me. Besides,” he said, leaning in a little with a grin, “Smart chicks are hot,”

You scoffed at that, especially when a smirk cracked his lips, “In your dreams,”

“Every night,” he grinned however it fell away soon after, “So what’s my punishment teacher’s pet? Streak through campus? Run around in a pink mini dress? Sing into a megaphone in the dining hall?”

You weren’t sure why you did. Hell, you didn’t even realise you were doing it. not till you’d grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Jace was equally shocked at first but soon his arm slipped around your back as he pulled you into the dorm only to shut the door behind you and press you against it, “Not what I’d call a punishment princess,” Jace said, his lips moving to kiss along your jaw, “but I’ll take it,”

“You are so infuriating,” you groaned despite your hand moving to the back of his head, tugging on his soft curls.

His lips smirked against the hollow of your neck, “Yeah but you like it,” he said, hands moving to your waist and creeping under your shirt to test the waters, “Now let me earn my A,” hands moving up to squeeze your tits when you didn’t stop him.

You couldn’t take it anymore as your hands grabbed his jaw again, pulling his lips to yours again, “Someone’s eager,” he murmured as your hands tugged the zip of his hoodie down.

“What? You want me to go home?” you asked between kisses as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders.

Jace’s hands quickly moved to your hips, grabbing them firmly as he began walking backwards to the bed, “You’re not going anywhere princess,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you down to straddle his thigh.

Even through your jeans you could feel his hard on poking your thigh. You moved your hips, grinding down on it and making Jace moan into the kiss as his hands squeezed your ass. You gasped when he flipped you over, you’re back hitting the soft mattress as his fingers toyed with the button of your jeans, “Can I get rid of them?” he asked, his fingers ghosting your waist. All you could do was nod making his chuckle as he pulled them off. “Fuck even better than my dreams,” he teased, kissing your inner thigh as he tossed them away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, pushing yourself up on your elbows to see the smirk on his face.

“Well that depends on sweetheart,” he said, hands softly trailing up your legs to your hips, “You’re in charge. What do you want me to do?” he asked, squeezing your hips.

“I- I’m not sure,” you stuttered.

Jace laughed gently and you wanted to hate the affect it was having on you as your stomach fluttered, “Well I could kiss you,” he said, placing another soft kiss to your thigh, “Then touch you a little,” he ran his fingers over your clothed cunt making you almost whimper, “Then kiss you some more,” he teased, hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. “Does that sound good princess?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, entranced by his movements.

“Then lay back,” he said, hand gently pushing your waist down as you laid down and tried to control your breathing, “and be a good girl, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, almost a whisper.

Jace hooked his fingers in your panties, pulling them down painfully slow before finally pulling them off and stuffing them in his pocket. You maybe would’ve said something if he hadn’t just put your legs over his shoulders as he placed an open kiss to your clit.

Your hands went to his hair, pulling at the soft curls as he began to gently lick and suck your bundle of nerves. You felt your hips start to move, grinding against his face desperate for more friction. Jace locked his arms around your thighs, locking your hips in place making you whine. You could practically feel him smirking against your cunt.

You almost screamed when you felt his tongue move down, his nose nuzzling your clit as his tongue began to massage new spots making a tight knot quickly develop in your stomach. “Fuck,” you gasped, back arching at the feeling. Jace chuckled against your cunt, a slow rumble vibrating against it making you moan even more.

Your grip in his hair tightened and Jace loosened his grip around one of your thighs. You whined when his lips pulled away. Jace chuckled as he ran a finger up your wet cunt, placing a soft kiss to your inner thigh as he pushed two in, “Such a pretty girl,” he praised, curling his fingers perfectly inside you, “Making such pretty noises,” he added, his lips moving back to wrap around your clit.

This time he let your hips buck, grinding against his face as he lapped up your cunt while his fingers worked at a perfect pace. Your peak was very quickly approaching as he kept up his pace, his tongue unrelenting. The feeling of your legs tightening around his head almost seemed to spur him on as he moaned against your cunt sending you over the edge.

Jace didn’t stop until he felt your legs twitching and heard you gasping for air. He was wearing that stupid cocky smirk as he flopped down onto the bed beside you as you both tried to catch your breath, “Well?” he asked, nuzzling his nose against your neck, his hand finding your hip so he could rub soft circles on it with his thumb, “What grade did I get?”

You chuckled a little bit at that, his cockiness for once not making you want to punch him, “On this test? A plus,”

“Oh, there’s other tests?” he asked, eyebrow raised with that intoxicating smirk, “Guess I’ll need to study for it. maybe you should tutor me,” he said, kissing you more gently than before.

“Maybe I should,” It was safe to say you wouldn’t be walking for a while.

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manikas-whims · 3 months

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Hii!! I want to request some headcanons for LADS boies ~~

How about them with a very famous reader!! How will they plan dates and attend any celebration with their partner!!

interesting request! imo, the biggest issue (in canonical sense) that they all will face due to the Reader being famous is protection. if she's always in limelight, it'll become difficult for them to act as they please in order to protect her..

now on to the request! hope you like it! ♡

LADS men dating a famous reader

XAVIER

⭐ He may be able to erase traces of his own history but he's very bad at dealing with the paparazzi. Any time he senses paparazzi spying on you two during your dates, he uses his evol to teleport you both away.

⭐ However, that doesn't always work. And when it doesn't, he walks right up to them and forces them to delete the pics taken.

⭐ He's never had any issues with your fame but what he doesn't enjoy is the attention it brings upon you, and by extension, upon him as well. Once the news of you dating some deepspace hunter breaks out, he starts getting scouted by random entertainment labels. They think his handsome face and skills will prove amazing for action movies.

⭐ Your fans will try spreading conspiracy theories about how he could be the one behind the infamous masked vigilante named Lumiere. There's also fans who seem to like him and have spread rumors about how he saved you from a hoard of wanderers, causing you to immediately fall for him.

⭐ He's very compliant when it comes to anything to do with you. If there's an event significant for the sake of your career, and if it requires his presence, then he'll quietly accompany you.

⭐ Your stylists are quite taken by him. They always insist on doing his makeup and picking out the outfits that suit his sleeper build. And Xavier complies, his only request being that they make sure his clothes are complementary to yours and that you two look like a couple. No matter what image you've crafted for the world, he'll ensure everyone knows that you two belong to each other.

ZAYNE

❄️ He's a nightmare for the paparazzi. They never manage to sneak a single good picture of the two of you when you're out on dates. They always end up looking blurry or Zayne makes sure his tall frame entirely hides your smaller one behind him.

❄️ This one time when they do spot you leaving the Akso Hospital with a tall, dark haired man, none of them manage to take any pictures. Many claim they suddenly felt the temperature around them dropped so low that it felt chilly, and that their hands went numb due to the cold.

❄️ The news about your dating life only breaks out when you and Zayne yourselves decide to make it public. However, not many seem to like Zayne. Many fans claim he's too aloof and wonder if he's even good enough for you (ofc you reassure him that he's the only one ever!)

❄️ Other fans discover some pictures of the two of you from highschool days and come to the conclusion that you two must be highschool sweethearts. And they find it admirable that you two stuck together for so long.

❄️ Due to his profession, he doesn't get much time and its difficult for him to attend your public events. This does lead to some criticism about how he's not a very supportive boyfriend. But he only finds such remarks amusing. Afterall, what the world thinks of him doesn't matter. He only cares about how you feel for him.

❄️ The rare occasions when he does show up at your events, he always keeps a hand on the small of your back, his intimidating figure allowing no room for comments or slander.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Since he himself is pretty well-known, he's quite used to the paparazzi. But that doesn't mean he likes them or tolerates them. He's straight up calling them out because he hates the possibility of his dates with you getting ruined due to so many intruding eyes. And he doesn't want people prying into his and your personal lives.

🌊 When he sees a paparazzi taking pictures, Rafayel is the type who pulls out his own smartphone and starts clicking pictures of them in retaliation.

🌊 You two openly hang-out in public and there is speculation about you two dating. It's just you never confirm it. And ofcourse, you two are questioned during your individual interviews about each other. You never give a direct response to those either. You let the people keep assuming whatever they want to.

🌊 Both yours and Rafayel's fans ship you two together. But there are many of his fangirls who've called you horrible names. One time, you even got attacked by a crazy fan, who was immediately banned by Thomas. And Rafayel personally put out a statement about how he'll not entertain any crazy or violent fans.

🌊 Whenever you're working on a new project, he sends you rare species of flowers for goodluck. He also makes sure to convey his support in the form of sending food trucks and such for the entire staff.

🌊 He doesn't enjoy public attention. You've seen how much he despises having to attend formal events related to his own artistry. Still, he doesn't like the idea of so many strangers openly approaching you, so he makes sure to attend as many of your events as his schedule allows him to. And you do the same for him.

If you sent me a LADS related request, then rest assured, i am working on all your requests slowly..♡

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

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itneverendshere · 2 days

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how would the cameron family react to rafe dating a pogue

found a girl my parents love - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) Ps: ward's not a monster in this, just an asshole sometimes, bc my boy rafe deserves a better father figure. also, didn’t know if this request was for this couple but i felt like it fitted them perfectly so here we are again 🫶🏻🤗

Rafe selfishly wanted to keep you a secret for as long as he could.

Not because he was ashamed of you—not even close. You were his, the only person who actually got him. That part of him he never let anyone see, not his family, not his boys.

It was complicated, though, and his family didn't do "complicated" well. Especially not with a pogue. His dad would flip if he knew he was dating someone he hadn’t been personally introduced to before.

The bartender from the club, of all people. The one they’d see serving drinks to them all summer, like you didn’t exist outside those moments. That was the thing though, you did exist, more than anyone he’d ever known. You were real. That’s why he wanted to keep it just for himself. It was his one thing that no one else could touch, could ruin. Topper knew, sure, but he wasn’t going to run his mouth to Sarah after she broke his heart.

So yeah, he held on to it, kept you away from the world that would tear it down before it even had a chance to really breathe. Until Weezie stumbled into your date at the ice cream shop.

He remembered the way his heart stopped when he saw her walk in. Of all places. Of all the people. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, then at you, and then back to him like she’d just walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

And honestly? She did.

“What the hell are you doing here, Weeze?” he snapped, more out of panic than anger.

"Uh? Getting ice cream?" Her face lit up, a huge grin stretching across her cheeks. “What are you doing here? And with her?” She looked at you, her excitement bubbling over before Rafe could get a word in. “Oh my God, this is so cool! You’re dating her? Like, for real?”

You smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension rolling off him. He looked like he was seconds away from shitting himself. He could’ve killed Weezie right then and there. But instead, he just sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

“Are you kidding?” Weezie practically bounced. “I won’t say a word. Scout’s honor.” She shot you a smile before turning to leave. “But like, this is so cool.”

He scowled at her, “Stop being creepy.”

You slapped his chest, scolding him “Be nice.”

“Oh, I like her!”

She kept her word. For a little while, at least.

A few weeks later, they were all sitting around the dinner table—Ward, Sarah, Rafe, and Weezie. Rose was out doing whatever the fuck she did with her friends. Everything was going fine until Weezie, mid-conversation about nothing important, let it slip.

“I saw Rafe and his girlfriend the other day,” she said, just like it was no big deal.

Girlfriend.

Rafe froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Sarah looked like she’d just been smacked in the face.

“Girlfriend?” Sarah’s voice went up an octave. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

He shot Weezie a look that could shove her ten feet under, but it was too late. She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ward raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You got something to share with the family, son?”

Rafe cleared his throat, putting his fork down, already working up a sweat. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this one. And honestly?

Maybe it was time to stop hiding. He glanced at Sarah, who still looked at him like he was from outer space, then at his dad. He’d always given him shit about girls, all these big speeches about how none of them were ever worth bringing home unless he was serious.

Well, he was serious.

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, meeting his dad’s eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“She’s a pogue!”

Rafe closed his eyes, sighing as Weezie blurted the most important piece of information out. She really just dropped the biggest bomb in the most casual way possible. His dad’s expression didn’t change much, but Sarah? She was fully in shock, her jaw practically hitting the table.

“A Pogue?” Sarah repeated, like she couldn’t believe the words even existed in the same sentence as Rafe. “Are you serious? In this lifetime?”

He shot her a glare. “Yeah, a Pogue. What, is that some kind of crime?”

“What?” She shrieked, “You gave me so much shit when I dated John B!”

He clenched his jaw, his patience hanging by a thread. Of course she was going to bring up John B. She couldn’t let anything go. “That was different,” he snapped.

Sarah scoffed, folding her arms “Different? How exactly?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because John B’s a dirtbag who had you sneaking around doing God knows what. This is—” he stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “This is different, okay? She’s not like him.”

“So, it’s okay when you date a Pogue? Got it.”

“To be fair,” Weezie chimed in, “John B smelled like shit.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips, even though the last thing he wanted to do was encourage her. Sarah shot Weezie a death glare, clearly not amused.

“Language,” Ward warned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you girls? No swearing at the table.”

The room fell silent, everyone looking at Rafe like they were waiting for him to say something. His dad didn’t even look mad—if anything, he looked weirdly intrigued.

“So,” Ward said slowly, his gaze locking onto Rafe’s. “You’re serious about her then? Serious enough for me to meet her?”

Rafe swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

“Alright. Let’s make that happen then.”

He blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”

Ward’s response was calm, almost too calm. “If you’re serious about this girl, then it’s time I meet her.”

Rafe just stared at him, unsure if he’d heard that right. His dad wasn’t angry? Was he impressed? Or was this some kind of setup?

“You... wanna meet her?” he repeated, like he needed the words to make sense.

His dad’s expression wasn’t the usual stone wall of judgment. “I’ve always said if it’s not serious, don’t bother bringing her around. You’re saying she’s important to you, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Rafe’s voice trailed off, still half-expecting this to somehow turn into a lecture or some Ward Cameron test. “She is.”

He nodded, like he was already planning it. “Alright then, set it up. I’ll meet her.”

He couldn’t tell if this was a win or if he’d just walked into something he wasn’t prepared for. His whole plan was to avoid this exact conversation. He looked across the table, expecting Sarah to be just as blindsided as he was, but she was still stuck on one detail.

“You’re dating a Pogue,” she muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t get past that fact. “I just… wow.”

Rafe shot her a glare. “Get over it.”

Weezie, always the little instigator, grinned. “She was cool.”

“Okay, so… when do I get to meet her?” Sarah’s brown eyes widened with curiosity. “Is she cute? What’s she like?”

This wasn’t how he thought the night was going to go at all.

An hour later, he was lying in bed, staring at his phone, his mind still spinning from dinner. He pulled up your contact, hesitating for a second before hitting the FaceTime button. The screen flashed for a moment, and then there you were, all cozy in your own bed, unaware of what was about to hit.

“Hi baby,” you chirped, clearly happy to see him, “What’s up? You look stressed.”

Rafe rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, well, uh—something happened at dinner tonight.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion, tilting the phone closer to you. “What? Did Sarah say something dumb again?”

“Nah, worse,” he muttered. “Weezie... Weezie kinda let it slip. About us.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “Wait, what? She told them?!”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle at the memory of the whole dinner spiraling out of control. “Just dropped it casually like it was no big deal. Sarah freaked out, and my dad—" He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to meet you.”

For a second, you didn’t say anything. You just blinked, processing his words.

“Wait... Ward Cameron wants to meet me? As in, your dad?”

“Yeah,” He mumbled, almost sheepishly. “He’s all, ‘If you’re serious, I should meet her,’ or some shit. Like it’s no big deal.”

You sat up straight, your heart racing. “Rafe, that is a big deal! What the hell do you mean he wants to meet me?!” Your voice rose, panic starting to take over. “Oh my God, I didn’t even think about having to meet your dad. I figured we’d just— I don’t know—figure it out later!”

Rafe winced, knowing this would freak you out. He tried to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn’t exactly calm himself. “Baby, it’s not like tomorrow or anything. We can plan it out.”

But you were already spiraling. “Your dad’s gonna take one look at me— What if he hates me? What if he tells you I’m not worth it, and then—” you paused, your voice breaking slightly, “What if you start to believe him?”

His stomach clenched at your words. He sat up, the phone now held closer to his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. What are you even talking about?”

You bit your lip, your thoughts running wild. “I mean... what if he convinces you that I’m not good enough? What if you start seeing me differently? You know how your dad is—he could talk you out of this, talk you out of us.”

Rafe shook his head, almost angry that you’d even think that way. “Are you serious right now? No way in hell is that happening. I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks. You’re the one I’m with because I want to be with you.”

You sighed, your nerves still rattled. “But what if he tries to get in your head? You always talk about how much pressure he puts on you. What if he—”

He cut you off, his voice firm, assertive. “Look, I’m serious about you. I told him that tonight. It doesn’t matter what he says, because you’re the one I love. No one’s changing my mind about that. Not even Ward fucking Cameron.” His eyes softened a little. “I already met your sister. This is just the next step, yeah? It’s us. We’re solid.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He hated this—hated that the idea of meeting his dad was making you feel like this, but he couldn’t blame you. Ward was intimidating even on his best days, and this was not going to be one of those days.

“You’re not gonna throw up,” he said, trying to calm you down, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

You shook your head, running a hand through your bed hair. “What if I say something dumb? What if I screw up, and he hates me, and then everything goes downhill? I’m not, like... your people. You know that.”

His jaw clenched, hating the way you thought of yourself like that. “Don’t say that,” he scolded, “You’re exactly my people. You’re my person.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No ‘buts.’” He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen to me. My dad’s opinion doesn’t change anything. He’s not gonna make me see you any differently. You’re still gonna be the same girl I’m crazy about, no matter what he says or doesn’t say. Got it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to believe him. “It’s just—I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t fit into that world, and what if he sees that right away?”

He hated that you felt this way, hated that his dad had this kind of power hanging over the two of you. “You don’t need to fit into his world, okay? You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Your lips quivered, and for a second, he thought you might start crying. He could feel the panic rolling off of you through the phone, and it hit him hard—he hadn’t realized just how terrified you were of this.

“What if he really doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?” You whispered, almost like you were scared to say it out loud.

Rafe’s heart clenched, and without thinking, he shot up out of bed, pacing his room like he needed to burn off the frustration

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away for a second like you were trying to compose yourself.

“I just don’t want him to—I don’t know? To make you feel like you have to choose between me and your family.”

He stopped pacing, his grip tightening on the phone. “If it ever came to that? I’d choose you. Every fucking time.”

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Rafe—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off again. “I’m not letting my dad, or anyone else, get in the way. I don’t care if he’s Ward Cameron or the president of the United States. He’s not gonna run my life, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. And nothing my dad says or thinks is gonna change that. Ever.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall over. Not because you were scared anymore, but because of him. Because of how much he cared. How much he loved you, even when you were spiraling.

He was staring at the screen, concern written all over his face, brows furrowing, "Wait, are you crying?" His voice softened, like he wasn’t sure how to handle you like this, but he knew he wanted to. He needed to.

You quickly rubbed at your eyes, laughing to try and cover up the tears, "No, no, I just— got something in my eye." Your laugh was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you with that loving look of his that made you want to bawl your eyes out even harder. He saw right through you. He always did.

“You know,” he finally said, “You don’t have to worry about all that shit. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s when you almost lost it. Because wow. No one had ever said something like that to you before, not until him. Never like that, like he really meant it, like you were the most important thing in his world.

You sniffed, trying to laugh it off again, but it just came out all soft and broken. “I’m just—” you paused, not even sure how to explain how you were feeling, “I’m not used to this. Like, you... caring this much. Loving me like this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he leaned a little closer to the screen, “I’m not stopping.”

“I know. I love you too.”

It was real now.

Meeting the Camerons wasn’t something you could avoid anymore, but at least you knew you had Rafe, a hundred percent.

“You still freaking out?” he asked, though his tone was lighter, like he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’ll get over it.”

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I kinda need you around.”

“Kinda?”

He grinned, dimples framing his face, “Okay, a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Rafe hadn’t said a word the entire drive, which was already freaking you out more than you wanted to admit. His knuckles were white, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw was locked, teeth grinding together and you’d caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye at least three times in the past minute.

Your heart was hammering, stomach in knots, and you were starting to wonder if you might actually throw up by the time you got to Tannyhill.

“Baby, seriously, if we crash into a tree ‘cause you’re having a silent meltdown over there, that’s not gonna help either of us.”

He blinked, finally loosening his grip on the wheel. “Sorry. I’m just—fuck, I don’t know.”

You tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, me too. I feel like I’m walking into some kind of corporate job interview I didn’t apply for.”

Rafe snorted. “Yeah, except the CEO’s a control freak and the company’s, I don’t know, cursed or something.”

That made you laugh, a short, nervous laugh, but still. You appreciated the attempt at humor, even if the nerves in your stomach weren’t going anywhere.

“So, uh... game plan?” you asked, half-joking, but mostly serious. “Am I supposed to shake his hand? Call him Mr. Cameron? Or is it more of a ‘hey, what’s up, Ward?’ situation?”

Rafe finally cracked a grin, shaking his head. “God, I don’t know. Don’t call him Ward; that might send him into some power trip. But definitely don’t call him Mr. Cameron either, ‘cause that’ll just make it weird.”

“Great, so I’ll just go with ‘Hi’ and hope I don’t trip over my own feet.”

“Perfect,” Rafe deadpanned, glancing over at you, “Just be yourself. He’s not as bad as you think. Mostly.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mostly?”

Rafe’s lips pressed together. "He's not gonna throw you out or anything. And if he does, we’re leaving together. But Sarah...”

“Sarah,” you groaned, leaning your head back against the seat. You’d barely met Sarah, and from what you could tell, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about Rafe’s choice in girlfriends.

“Just don’t let her get to you,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s just mad because I used to make John B’s life a living hell.”

“Define hell.”

Rafe smirked, his fingers still interlaced with yours. "I mean, I threw him off a boat once," he said casually, like that wasn’t one of the most insane things you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You what?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, like it was no big deal. “He was running his mouth about me."

You stared at him in disbelief, “And you think I’m the one who needs to be worried?”

He laughed, finally loosening up a little, “Relax, baby. I’m not throwing you off anything.”

“So she’s not mad about me? She’s just mad about the double standard?”

“Yeah.”

That made it a little easier to breathe.

The silence settled back in for a moment as you pulled up to Tannyhill. The sight of the massive estate took your breath away. You couldn’t help but feel like you were entering a completely different world now that you were here—a world that wasn’t exactly built for you.

Rafe must’ve noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of your seat a little tighter because he let out a long breath.

“Hey, it’s just a dinner. We eat, we talk, we leave. It’s not like they’re gonna put you under a microscope.”

You gave him a side-eye. “You know, I wasn’t nervous until you said that.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

The car came to a stop, and you could see the flicker of lights through the windows of the house. The pressure in your chest was building, but Rafe turned toward you, his hand cupping your face.

“Listen,” his blue eyes locked on yours, “I don’t care what happens in there. You’ve got me. If anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, we’re out. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “One word and I’ll get you out.”

You kissed his palm, “I know.”

“Okay.” he muttered, then pulled away, giving one final deep breath before turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both stepped out of the car, Rafe knocked once, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal Sarah standing there in all her kook-with-pogue -tendencies glory.

“Well, well,” she smirked, eyes narrowing at you two.

Rafe shot her a sharp look, “Knock it off.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m kidding. Kinda.” She turned her attention to you, and you could feel her sizing you up, looking completely unfazed as she led the two of you further into the house. "Dad’s in the study. He’s waiting."

Your heart skipped a beat at that. Waiting? What did that even mean?

Rafe must have felt your nerves spike because he reached for your hand again, squeezing it as you followed Sarah down the long hallway.

The house felt even bigger on the inside, with its high ceilings and fancy decor. You felt out of place. But then you peeked over at Rafe, and something about the way he held your hand made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you did belong.

At least to him.

Sarah finally stopped outside a large wooden door, turning to you with an exaggerated sigh.

"Good luck.”

Rafe hesitated for a second, his hand still gripping yours tightly. "You ready?"

No. Absolutely not. But you nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

He pushed open the door, and there he was.

Ward Cameron, sitting behind a massive oak desk, looking as powerful and intimidating as ever. His eyes flicked up from whatever paperwork he was working on, settling on you with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Rafe," Ward said, his voice smooth and controlled, before turning his gaze to you. "And you must be... her."

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. "Yeah, that’s me. Hi, Mr. Cameron."

You immediately regretted it. Mr. Cameron? It sounded too formal, too awkward.

Ward didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he looked amused. He stood up, coming around the desk to get a better look at you. His eyes scanned over you briefly, but it wasn’t the cold, judgmental look you’d expected. Instead, it felt more like... curiosity.

"So, you’re the girl my son’s been so serious about."

You nodded, wanting to be anywhere but stuck in that claustrophobic room despite its size, "That’s me.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked between you and Rafe, “I hear you’re working at the Country Club.”

It wasn’t really a question—more like he already knew everything about you. Oh. You didn’t like that, knowing that someone else was snooping around for dirt on you. At least it sounded like that was the plan.

You managed a nod, trying to keep your voice from sounding too hushed. “Yeah, I’ve been working there for a while.”

His expression didn’t really give anything away, but the way he looked at you, was unnerving. Rafe’s hand squeezed yours, reminding you that, no matter what, he had your back. One word and you were out.

“Good,” Ward finally said, “I like that you work.” He sneaked a stern look at your boyfriend before turning his attention back to you. “He could use some of that drive.”

Wait. What?

You hadn’t expected that. You thought maybe he’d grill you or give you the whole ‘what are your intentions with my son’routine. But no, he was... complimenting you? It had to be some kind of set up.

“Dad—” Rafe started, clearly not expecting that either, but Ward cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously.” His eyes were back on you, and there was almost a smile there, like he was actually impressed. “It’s a good quality. I respect people who work hard, people who don’t just expect things to be handed to them. And from what I’ve heard, you’re one of those people.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

Ward Cameron? Complimenting you? Was this real life? You’d walked in here prepared for a full-on interrogation, and instead, he was... encouraging.

“I just hope some of that rubs off on my son,” Ward added, shooting Rafe a look, and you swore there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “He could stand to work a little harder. He’s always been a bit lazy.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing over at Rafe. He was glaring at his dad, but you could tell he wasn’t really pissed, just...embarrassed. You found it endearing.

“Thanks, Dad,” Rafe mumbled.

“I like it. Maybe you’ll inspire him to work a little harder.”

You blinked. Wait, was this actually happening? Did Ward Cameron, of all people, just say he liked you? This whole night felt like it was gonna be a disaster, and now... maybe it wasn’t gonna be so bad. You hoped so.

You really wanted his family to like you, you felt like you owned him at least trying.

“You know," Ward began, "I wasn't always the man you see standing here today." His voice took on a reflective tone, and you could sense the change in the atmosphere as he prepared to tell his story. "I grew up on the Cut, just like a lot of those kids you see around he, like you,” Ward said, almost casually, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual thing for him. "Back then, I didn’t have much. But I worked my ass off to get out of that place. I didn’t have a name, no wealth behind me. What I have now? I built that from the ground up. No one handed me anything."

Rafe, who had been quiet up until now, let out a small, barely audible sigh, shifting uncomfortably beside you. You took a quick glance at him and caught the unmistakable eye-roll he tried to hide.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time Ward had given this speech. But at the same time, you could tell he was relieved that his dad wasn’t tearing into you. That had to count for something, right?

Ward, oblivious or perhaps just unfazed by his son’s reaction, continued, his voice gaining momentum like he was giving you some kind of motivational speech. "It wasn’t easy. There were plenty of times when I could’ve given up, but I didn’t. I pushed through, made connections, took risks. That’s how you get ahead. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. Now look where I am—" He gestured around at the lavish room, the estate itself practically a testament to his success. "I built an empire. Something real. Something that can last."

You nodded politely, unsure if you were supposed to say something. Rafe’s obvious eye-rolling and silent huffs of frustration beside you made it clear that he’d heard all this a hundred times before. He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms, clearly waiting for his dad to wrap it up.

But Ward wasn’t done yet. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The point is," he said, his tone softening a little, "I respect people who are willing to work for what they want. I see that in you. It’s not about where you start—it’s about where you’re going."

Rafe let out a short, quiet breath that you might’ve missed if you weren’t sitting right next to him. He shot you a small, knowing smile, almost like he was apologizing for the speech but also relieved that Ward wasn’t being an asshole.

You squeezed his hand under the table. At least his dad wasn’t tearing you down.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron," you said, finally finding your voice. "I really appreciate that."

He nodded, seeming satisfied with himself. "Just remember," he added, his voice lowering as if he was giving you some kind of life lesson, "Hard work pays off. You keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get somewhere. Don’t ever settle, not even for him.”

“Thanks again.”

Rafe looked like he was about to explode from how much he was holding back, but he just gave you a quick wink as if to say, Yeah, this is typical dad, but hey—he likes you, so we’re good.

Ward clapped his hands together, the moment of sincerity quickly passing. "Alright, well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we?"

He strode ahead, leading the way out of the study and toward the dining room, leaving you and Rafe a few steps behind. The moment he was out of earshot, you looked up at Rave, “You think we’re good?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes, his tone all teasing. “Baby, I think he might build you a pedestal.”

You couldn’t help but snort, trying to keep your voice down as you followed Ward. “Really? After that ‘self-made empire’ speech?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, giving you a knowing look. “Trust me, if you got through that and he didn’t start questioning your entire existence, you’re golden. The man sees himself in anyone who works hard enough to breathe without permission.”

You bit back a laugh, gripping his hand as you walked down the long hallway. “Yeah, I was getting that vibe.”

His grin grew wider, his thumb skimming over your knuckles. “And look, usually, it’s a full-blown interrogation by now. You’re good.”

You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. “Really?”

Rafe nodded. “Oh yeah. Sarah’s brought home guys before and it was... rough.” He shook his head, “He actually likes you. That’s rare.”

Maybe things with the Camerons were actually going to be okay.

331 notes · View notes

cheralith · 8 months

Text

vogue — 「 boss/fashion designer!geto suguru x reader 」

synopsis ; even without much knowledge in the world of fashion, you decide that it's in your best interest to work for the country's fashion magazine powerhouse. however, you begin to second-guess your decision when you're faced with the grueling labor of its one and only editor-in-chief who expects nothing less of perfection. can your efficiency meet his standards or will you be out the door before you can even blink?

content tags/warnings ; gn!reader, use of they/them pronouns, mild language, traditional japanese basis of (l/n) (f/n) used, reader wears glasses, makeup, and heeled boots, some mild manga and jjk 0 spoilers (three minor characters from each are introduced), uhhh suguru being a dick lawl, some parts not edited/not beta read

contains ; editor-in-chief!geto, fashion designer!geto, assistant!reader, assistant turned ****!reader, platonic roommate!ino, modern au, mild angst, some crack if you squint

word count ; 10.2k

notes ; heavily inspired by "the devil wears prada" and "paradise kiss", so there'll be some references i've dropped within this—see if you can spot them! also the censored is spoilers so until then, hehe.

now playing ; seven days in sunny june - jamiroquai

It’d be foolish not to know the household name of Geto Suguru, the ultimate male muse of Jun Takahashi whose title has yet to be reigned by another. He was the ultimate breathing mannequin of the iconic Yohji Yamamoto piece he had worn on the Milan runway back when he was just a teenager. It was one of the most staple pieces of the new century that helped open the gates of the mixing of world culture and avant garde fashion—an England-Japanese punk fusion of an ashen and tattered kasaya layered under the contrasting statement piece: the earth-toned gojōu-gesa splattered with weaves of gold—and it was that very piece that rose him to the top of the fashion world as one of the most powerful names in global fashion.

And how could he not? At seventeen, he was scouted as a model for Gaulthier and became his muse at the ripe age of twenty before several other worldwide designers began to fight for his eyes. It was only a few shrewd years later that he’d open up his own successful fashion line, RIIKO, named in honor of his late sister, resulting in it becoming one of the fashion line pillars in the modern century.

It didn’t take long after that, due to his fame and distinct education from Jujutsu University, rising to the top for Kaizen fashion magazine and ruling it with an iron fist and several cups of coffee with almost all his designs on display for all to see in the office. It was due to his work that Kaizen became the powerhouse of powerhouses of fashion editorials and magazines and it was solely his work that made fashion what it was in present times.

Whether it was direct or indirect, Geto had impacted the industry in all sorts of ways. Be it blossoming an upcoming supermodel’s name or setting new fashion trends, everything could essentially be traced to Geto Suguru.

So it’s understandable that many had called you a fool—a dimwit, even—for not understanding how big of a deal it was to become his junior assistant after lazily submitting your resume. Originally, you had just wanted to become a simple lifestyle journalist for papers like Sankei Shimbun or The Japan Times, but seeing how it was between a seemingly mysterious fashion magazine that mentioned, received gasps, or the measly and homely newspaper of The Hokkaido Tribune, a magazine you knew would only give new journalists the scraps of what they earned, the choice was obvious.

Whatever gave you more money, you’d take. Survival of the fittest, was this world not?

“Do not tell me you’re going to your interview at Kaizen wearing that?” Ino barks out a laugh as he finishes his morning cereal for breakfast, scanning your outfit. “You’re going to work in a fashion magazine, not some dingy corporate office.”

You sneer at him as you shove on your loafers (don’t mind that the leather is peeling slightly on the side). You think that there’s nothing remotely wrong with your overused gauntlet gray matching set of trousers and blazer with a slightly wrinkled button-up underneath it.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at your roommate and parttime brother figure. “What on earth do you know about fashion?”

“Enough of it to know that outfit is atrocious for that type of environment,” he states simply as he shoves a donut in his mouth. He kicks his feet up on the table, making you cringe at their nakedness. “Trust me, change if you can. Make a statement for ‘em.”

Ino Takuma sighs and glances at your thick spectacles that you’ve worn since early college. “And at least change your glasses for your contacts. Heard they don’t like those sorta things over there. At least not the prescription kind.”

“Can’t find them,” you grunt when you feel the weight of your shoulder bag heave down your body. “I’m already late, anyway,” you sigh, “Listen, if I don’t come back alive, which I will by the way, then you can dance on my grave all you want.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he chants before he lets out a haughty snicker that gets muffled instantly when you slam the door on him.

You throw insults at Ino in your mind, grumbling about how a mere job hopper like him wouldn’t even know the speck of fashion, how you refuse to take advice from someone who wears the same thing every day. There’s nothing wrong with the gray, you think. It’s safe and presentable, ordinary and professional, and you’d much rather blend in than stand out as you believe standing out and making yourself known is just a recipe for trouble.

Stretching out a hand on the street, you call for a taxi and humbly enter as you smooth out your trousers. The taxi driver eyes you in the rearview mirror with a questioning glint in your eye. “Job interview?” he asks.

“Oh, um,” you nod your head. “Yep! I'm a little nervous, haha.”

“Really?” he says as he gratefully steps on the accelerator a little faster. “Better get you there quick, then. Would hate to have you late. Where are you planning on working?”

“Kaizen Magazine,” you declare confidently, an affirmative look on your face.

“Kaizen?” questions the driver slowly as his eyes go to scan your outfit in the mirror again, his brows raised. “As in the… the fashion magazine?”

You nod with visible apprehensiveness. You think that maybe you truly were the only person in the world that didn’t know the impact of Kaizen, seeing as how a mere taxi driver even knew about the name and you didn’t up until a few weeks ago.

“I see…” he mutters. The drive there is a mix of silence and everyday morning conversations, before he pulls up to the building that held the key to your dreams. “Well then, here’s your stop.”

You let out a little gasp of excitement. “Thank you so much,” you reply as you shove some cash into the slot.

“Hm, well,” the taxi driver counts the money carefully, barely looking just before you close the door as he mutters, “Good luck, Plain Jane.”

You turn back to the taxi, your hearing a little awry. “Sorry, what was that?”

But when you turn back to the yellow cab, all that’s left is a billow of smoke and cinders. Dazed and confused, you quickly shake those feelings off before you head inside to the building that was now your shining beacon of hope with a determined smile still plastered on your lips. White is the first thing that greets you when you enter the building as it was essentially aired out onto every corner. White marble counters, white tile flooring with white grout, white frames of fashion icons—the white screams pristine and perfection to you and its message went very much noticed. You haven’t even met Geto Suguru yet, but you understood already that he expected nothing but excellence.

You ride up the elevator quietly and alone, trying not to focus on how your anxiety increased with each ding of the passing floors. The elevator screen seems to almost taunt you as it closes in on your doom, the numbers getting closer to the designated floor until it slowly pauses and shone brightly the number 21 in stippled red.

The doors slowly open and the light seeps itself back to your vision, white flooding your senses again. You carry yourself carefully down the hallway whilst taking your time to admire the many framed pictures of past magazines, multiple runway models, and scraps of newspaper articles. One specific piece catches your attention, however; it was large, almost half your body size and framed in a gilded black frame. It was a picture of a mannequin wearing a tawdry gray-black robe with the kanji characters of “summer” painted with purple messily atop. Layered was a loose, but well-fitted piece of thick green and gold cloth that looked much more refined to the messiness of the other materials.

You stare at it for what seemed to be forever whilst admiring the contrast and beauty of the work before your name is called out.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

Your trance breaks from the voice approaching you. You turn to see a short and young woman with dark blue eyes staring at you with a raised brow. “That’s you I presume?” she asks.

“Oh! Uh,” you nod furiously and smooth out your trousers again. “Yes… yes, that’s me. I assume you’re Manami Suda? The one I spoke with on the phone?”

She nods slowly, her eyes going to study your outfit which was a rather stark contrast to her own attire that highlighted an emphasis on shades of opal and navy. Her eyes have a similar glint in the way that Ino’s and the taxi driver’s had, further enunciating the message that your attire was rather… something.

“I see you’ve dressed up for the occasion,” she murmurs. Sarcasm going undetected by you, you grin as a response and think that a compliment from her was a sign you did something right. Her eyes go to rise back and meet yours again before she turns and redirects you to the end of the hallway where some rooms belonging to subordinal editors sat in, clacking away at the computers. There was one singular room that held the only door on the floor and it doesn’t take you long to assume who it belongs to considering the large letters of GS frosted onto the glass.

Two desks stood on each side of the door, one completely devoid of life and decorations. Manami guides you to the empty one and patted the top of it. “This will be yours if you manage to miraculously pass.”

Manami taps on her clipboard a couple of times, listing off a couple of requirements that you were most likely going to need in the future: efficient time management, ability to fight for what Geto wants, sharp memory, quick feet…

“And uh…” Manami flickers her eyes to you and the details (or lack of, in this case). She mutters under her breath quietly, “... a good wardrobe.”

You turn to her, internally wondering if you were going deaf today. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“A good, warm…” she squints, obviously finding the right word to keep that ignorant smile on your face. “... welcome to start off his day.”

She succeeds in her task as you merely nod with the same blatant grin attached. “Got it!”

Manami tours you around the floor of the office, letting you say hello to your future coworkers that work in the cubicles that send you worried looks behind your back. They obviously seem too pitying of you, knowing that your fate would be sealed as Geto’s potential right hand man the moment you signed that employee contract.

“This is Human Resources,” Manami gestures over to a room filled with chattering employees who seemed to be getting their gossip out before their day started. “You’ll contact them if you have any—” her phone dings suddenly. Casually, she pulls it out, only for all of her resolve to disappear in an instant. Manami then abruptly blows a whistle with her teeth, alerting everybody in the radius.

“Everybody! His morning facial was canceled!” Manami hollers. “Geto is coming in…” her phone pings again with another notification, and you can tell Manami’s heart instantly drops. “Oh God… he’s in the lobby! Everybody, places! You,” she snags the sleeve of your blazer and drags you along with her, your clunky loafers nearly tripping you. “Come with me.”

Manami takes back to where you first started and orders you to stand in the front of the blank desk with a look that screams both fright and anxiousness all in one. She lists off too many tasks that you need to do before he comes, but you’re so frazzled with trying to remember how to act in front of your future boss that you can’t even remember the first thing she told you.

“Help me arrange the drafts of the magazines from most recent to least recent before he—”

The elevator dings and all goes quiet; Manami tosses the magazines over her shoulders and positions herself firmly in her place, gesturing for you to do the same. The doors open and unveiled from two bodyguards is a man—a tall man, around six feet or perhaps even taller—dressed in noir fitted pants and a matching button-up closed only halfway to reveal a silk navy turtleneck. Caped behind him is a black velvet trenchcoat that you’re sure is worth half your rent and a watch plated on his wrist that is well over your life savings. He’s slightly sunkissed, with blue-black tresses of hair with a soft bang sneaking through and large plated earrings to match. His eyes, however, show a tint of color—a sharp dark amethyst that you think could cut through you like crystals.

But he’s almost hauntingly attracting—like a spirit. Something about him was an enigma and his aura was nothing less than powerful.

“Good morning, Geto,” Manami chants with an artificial happiness to her tone.

Geto doesn’t reply, just merely giving a silent blink before he sheds his coat off and tosses it aimlessly towards Manami. It proves to be heavier than anticipated, giving how she fights to groan from the weight of it. He’s handed his briefcase from one of the bodyguards and begins to open the door to his office until he pauses and turns and glances at you, the stranger.

“Hello,” you state with a slight bow. “I-I’m one of the interviewees for your junior assistant. My name is—”

“(Y/N),” Geto murmurs; his voice is soft and low. It’s all knowing, with indigo eyes boring into your own. “(L/N) (Y/N), I know. The one that graduated from Jujutsu University recently, yes?”

Adjusting your glasses to wave away the blurriness, you nod with anticipation. “Yes, that’s me.”

Geto turns back and opens the door, to which he only replies back, “In my office.”

You glance at Manami for confirmation, only given back with a jut of her head towards the door. All the unease you felt in the elevator comes hurdling back to you in an instinct and you feel as if you were no more than a peasant to someone that was essentially royalty in the fashion world.

Geto turns his chair to face away from you, shuffling a few papers over each other that appears to be your resume, before he spins it slowly towards you. He kicks his feet up lazily on his desk.

“It’s nice to have another Jujutsu alum to join us,” he says. His voice is still the same—a little baritone with a wisping edge of a whisper to it, but it almost sounds… bored. Unamused even. “A bachelors in print journalism… same as mine, hm. Tell me, is Professor Tengen still as loose as ever with their practices?”

You fight to fiddle with your glasses as you watch as Geto tangibly toys with his own, with his focus angled on the papers in front of him rather than you. “Um, I assume so. Though I believe they’re actually retiring this year.”

“Good,” he sighs in what seems to be relief. “Shame that the university had wasted time and money by hiring them. Truly, I hope they can find someone much better suited for their position.”

“Really?” you quietly question. You had only taken their class a few semesters ago and thought despite their rather… all too lenient disposition… you did learn quite a lot in their class. “I thought they were a rather alright teacher…”

Regret pools in your mouth from the moment you have finished your sentence. Geto finally goes to look at you from the edge of his glasses with a sharp look, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“Tengen was merely a sorry excuse for a professor. They were rather nothing but a nanny who gave their students too much leeway,” Geto declares. “Though, I’ll admit, I am pleasantly surprised that you managed to take something out of that class.”

A laugh that’s just dripping with nothing but nervousness leaks out of your lips. “I suppose I had learned just a few things…”

“Mmh,” Geto nod nonchalantly, eyes drawing back to the papers. “Well. Let’s start with the basics. Why exactly do you want to work here?”

Geto already feels the cliche comments erupting. Had the person in front of him say at least one of them, he was ready to insert the papers he was holding into the nearby shredder. Or maybe out the window this time, he wonders—something nice for a change.

“I was inspired by your work.”

“It’s been my dream to work at Kaizen.”

“Fashion is my absolute passion.”

“I want to—”

“I’m just in need of a job, really,” you say lifelessly.

He goes to raise his head slowly from the packet and turns to you slowly. Geto doesn’t say anything, but his facial expressions indicate a blend of confusion and intrigue. A slithering tongue darts out to slick his lips, indicating you’ve piqued his interest. “Well, obviously. But why this job specifically? What about it stood out to you?”

You clear your throat. “I had learned recently that Kaizen is a rather prestigious mag—”

“‘Recently’?” Geto repeats quietly. “You hadn’t heard of us before?”

Lips thinning, you shake your head slightly. His eyes go narrow again to your dread, serpent-like. “My specialty is more in newspapers rather than magazines, I-I’m not too knowledgeable in that area.”

Geto goes quiet and the silence makes the air go thick. It’s then that familiar glint sparkles in his sullen eyes when they go to examine your choice of clothing—it confirms Ino was truly right in the end, as he lets out a smile-less chuckle that doesn’t do much to ease your brain.

“Continue,” Geto gestures and takes off his glasses to look at you, or you suppose your outfit, more properly. He folds his hands and places his chin on top of them. “You said you only learned about us not too long ago?”

“Yes, and I realized that perhaps working here for a while would, at least I hope, grant me access to other media houses,” you explain. It’s only then you realize that your declaration sounds absolutely ludicrous and almost disrespectful to the editor-in-chief of the most iconic fashion magazine in the nation. “Connections are quite powerful in this day and age, haha…”

“I suppose,” Geto mumbles with not much interest in your poor humor. “What about me? I do hate bragging but surely, you know about my name or at least my fashion line?”

Your hesitant countenance and silence tells Geto all he needs to know. He thinks that it’s almost some sort of marvel that no one has heard of him or his works before.

He sighs. “Do you have any experience working in any fashion-related activities at least?”

“Well, I once worked in a department store for a few months back in high school,” you say thoughtfully (and ignorantly).

Geto gives you a blank look. His blinks are apathetically slow.

“Um,” you clear your throat again and shake your head, timid. “N-no…”

“Then tell me,” he continues smoothly. “Why exactly should I hire you? You obviously have no taste in fashion and you hadn’t even heard of my name, let alone my magazine, until recently. What is there within that makes you want to work here other than you just… what was it that you said?” He air-quotes mockingly, “‘needing a job?’”

Your throat runs dry and limbs go stiff. A heat rockets to your face when you seemingly can’t get any words out to excuse yourself, much too caught up in the same of your ignorance towards Geto’s profession. And that’s all the response he needs to make his decision.

His hand takes the packet again and to your horror that you fight to keep in, inserts it into the paper shredder. The groan of it rumbles through the room agonizingly and you realize that Ino is going to have the time of your life planning your doomsday.

Geto gives you the mercy of breaking the thick silence first. “You may go.”

With a swift flick of his wrist, Geto dismisses you with a slight edge to his murmuring as he puts back on his glasses to examine the morning newspaper to not waste any more incessant time in the day.

You don’t even attempt to fight back with any poor excuses. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, the sting of them frustrating you to your wits end. Instead, you gather the last of your resolve and bid him through a strained throat good day and make your leave, humiliation and disappointment trailing not too far behind.

You hope that Ino will give a nice eulogy, at least.

Out of all the miracles that await you in life, you do not expect the one that comes in the form of an early morning phone call that wakes you at the ass-crack of dawn. When you pick it up with sleep still very much embedded in your eyes, it dissipates in the instant you hear Manami’s voice. It’s only then that it hits you why on earth she was calling so early and why she was demanding to know your whereabouts, claiming you were going to be late on your first day of work.

You think it’s some sort of cruel joke maneuvered by Ino, especially with how his comforts from last night were mixed with taunts. But when Manami’s voice finally registers in your brain, by some sort of miracle or stroke of luck, you have gotten the job as Geto Suguru’s junior assistant.

You don’t know how, but you don’t waste any time questioning how on earth you landed in such a position because you leap out of bed at 7:23 a.m. and manage to do your morning routine in the matter of what you think is a record-breaking fifteen minutes. Your ruckus manages to wake up deep-sleeping Ino, who, when you excitedly tell him to postpone your funeral, gives a groggy thumbs up before drooling back into his pillow. It’s 7:38 a.m. when you shove on your shabby coat and you realize you only have a mere twenty-two minutes left until you have to officially clock in for work.

At 7:40, you’re out the door and sprinting to the located coffee shop that thankfully wasn’t too far from where you lived.

At 7:47, you’re at the designated cafe whilst attempting to swim through the crowds of morning bustlers to pick up Geto’s coffee.

7:50, you’re sticking your hand out waving desperately for a taxi and tip extra to make the driver speed through as you attempt to make sure the coffees don’t spill out of their containers.

7:58, you arrive at the building and just barely make it into the narrow gap of a tight-fitting elevator, earning stares from the others from your rather… frazzled appearance.

At 8:02 a.m., you dash out the elevator and officially clock in for your first day at work at Kaizen Magazine amidst a birdnest of hair, clothes that were plucked out of your hamper, and what you pray to the heavens above are hefty layers of deodorant and perfume since you were given no time to shower.

When Geto comes in that day, all suave and composed, he takes one good look at you before sighing and focusing his attention to the more refined Manami and lets her take the gears for the day. The only attention he gives you that morning is the rough toss of his heavy coat—a cashmere pearl peacoat today—flung at your arms that nearly makes you tumble from its weight.

You quickly learn that working for Geto requires high demand and maintenance, as he is not one to skip over any details in his day. Not even three hours in your first day, you already have to plan out his future meetings, reschedule one with a rather feisty and insistent client, edit a forest of emails, finishing by dashing out five blocks on foot to the two michelin star restaurant to retrieve Geto’s weekly steak for lunch. Had this been your old corporate job, you only would’ve gotten half the tasks you had completed by the end of the usual eight hours, but you realized early on that you had barely scratched the surface of your future in Kaizen.

You think that after plating his steak with the shakiest of hands, you finally have time to relax during lunch time when you see the small hand of the clock finally hit 12:00 p.m. , especially since you and him were left alone in his part of the office together. But the moment that Geto saunters into the office again, he tends to you once again with a final task by himself.

“(Y/N),” he calls from the office, the scrape of his fork against ceramic cluttering your ears agonizingly.

You fight the urge to cringe from the sound as you scurry to the doorframe, hands stiffly intertwined together. “Yes, Mr. Geto?”

“No need for such formalities,” he remarks with the dab of a napkin to his lips. “They make me feel old, and I’m surely not much older than you are…” you think that’s the longest he’s spoken to you since the day had started. “Did Leibovitz confirm?”

Blinking, you tilt your head ignorantly. “D-did who confirm?”

He pauses and does that taunting slow rise of his eyes from his steak to you. “Leibovitz. Did she confirm?”

Silence fills the office, much like the silence that drowned you back at the interview. He clicks his tongue and dismisses you with a disappointed shake of his head. “Just go on your lunch,” he mutters, sighing.

Manami, the savior that she is, is called into the office after her break and is asked the same task and you watch with humiliation whilst packing your things to go on your lunch as she picks up the telephone and speaks to someone over the line before confirming to Geto that, “I’ve got Annie!”

“He hates me, Taku!” you cry out whilst flopping onto the dinner table. It’s ten in the evening and you’ve just come home after what was supposed to be an 8-5 shift. You suppose you should be used to this already after two months of working for the Lucifer donned ritually in white in the building, but you don’t know how much your sanity (and body) can take.

Normally, Geto is usually cold to those who he wasn’t familiar with, but you think that his distaste for you sours everyday. You notice that he’s beginning to pile you with the more urgent and busier duties and that he often stares you down more menacingly in the morning with those piercing purple eyes of his, like you were gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. You thought it was just him being normal Geto Suguru, the man with the expectations higher than the clouds, and that you just were still adjusting to such a high-intensity environment, but it was today that your world came crumbling down when you overheard him muttering to his associates about you, tone icier than ever.

You were on the other side of the door, a fist going to rap on the glass with the other holding his afternoon coffee pick-me-up when you heard it.

“... can’t even do the most miniscule things right,” Geto had groaned. “I ask if Lanvin’s models are all good to go for next Thursday’s shoot and somehow, they have the nerve to ask ‘How do you spell Lanvin’? For fuck’s sake, I can feel my goddamn conscious just wither away by the second.”

You hadn’t heard Geto swear since you had started working there, but something about his venomous tone enunciating such words had made your blood run cold from the other side of the door. Not having the courage to face him after that, you left his coffee on Manami’s desk for her to tend to with a post-it note saying a sorry excuse for yourself before letting your eyes sob frustratingly in the bathroom, isolated from others.

The last time you had cried that hard was way back in childhood, where you had broken your arm from falling down a tree branch. But you think that Geto’s words had twisted through your skin and bone much harsher than that pain ever will.

“It’s a miracle how I haven’t been fired yet… I don’t even know why he hired me!” you wail.

Ino sighs from across the dinner table and you can’t tell if it’s a sigh of pity or a sigh of criticism. You learn that it’s both when he rolls his eyes at you whilst simultaneously pushing a plate of much needed food towards you.

“First off, you need to eat,” he presses, staring at your gaunt features. “The way your face is swallowing is making me feel like I’m living’ with a ghost. You’ve lost some weight, I’ve noticed.”

Awareingly, you touch your cheekbones and realize he’s right, for you feel the small disc of sharpness from them prick your fingertips. They’ve never been so cavern before. You suppose it’s because of the lack of proper meal time between your days and how you often eat small and very late dinners back at home, truly not enough needed fuel for you.

“Secondly,” Ino chews his tongue, wondering if he should really say what he’s about to say because of your current disposition but goes through with it anyway. He might as well rip the bandaid off now to let more time for the wound to heal. “You won’t like what I’m ‘bout to say, but you need to up your game. Severely.”

An aching body rises up from the table. You go to stare at Ino through glazed eyes and a pouty lip, asking him what he meant.

“Ah nope! Don’t give me that face and don’t play coy with me,” he hisses, looking away to not give in to your helpless puppy eyes. He can’t—he shouldn’t give you the easy way out and just say to quit—not when you’ve been earning so much bank that rent isn’t a problem for either of you anymore. He wonders, though, for a moment if so much money is worth your rationality.

He drags a hand down his face before placing his chin on it, examining your haggard appearance. “What I mean is that you need to see through Geto’s eyes. See what he sees when he looks at you. Tell me, if you had an assistant that showed up wearing things that looked like they were plucked from the clearance bin at a thrift store and didn’t show any respect for your brand, which just so happens to be a fashion magazine out of all things…” Ino eyes you with a raised brow. “You startin’ to follow me?”

Your fingers fiddle with each other. “... sorta.”

“Now listen,” he raises his hands up lazily in surrender. “I already know what you’re ‘bout to say about me not knowing’ how to dress in shit other than black and more black, but even I know that you should put in more effort into your appearance. That’s the first step.”

“But I have—!” you exclaim helplessly, “I-I swear, I’ve been trying to… but it’s not my fault that it isn’t up to his standards.”

Your roommate groans and rubs his forehead, not really knowing what else to do for your situation until an idea pops in his head. “Free up your weekend,” he demands with a sly grin that makes you a little uneasy. “I’m no fashion connoisseur, but you know who is?”

“And remember, we never touch anything with chevron on it, especially in today’s fashion world,” Yuki chimes as she slaps on a navy blue pageboy cap on your head and she prances about your bedroom that’s been littered with spare clothes from her very own closet she graciously gifted to you for the past weekend. “I’m so utterly relieved that the trend has dug its own grave.”

The past weekend had been filled with endless shopping trips and you shuffling in and out of clothes every minute, practicing how to pair items and colors together by Yuki’s teachings. Of course you should’ve known that Ino was going to contact the one person that he was within reach that was essentially a walking encyclopedia when it came to fashion. You’ve met Tsukumo Yuki before, found her to be quite delightful even, but you never anticipated she would be this giddy, especially about clothes of all things.

And she used her brain to good use for not only clothes, but the entirety of yourself. You never knew how much just a simple haircut could do your face along with small hints of makeup to emphasize the best parts of it. Dared not your hands go to a lash curler, but here you are now, making sure your powder compact and lipstick for the day was in your bag before you went out.

“Uh, I don’t think I ever mentioned this before yet, but thank you for helping my wardrobe out, it really means a lot,” you say just before she slides on a pair of gold bangles on your wrist. “Are you sure you wanna give these clothes to me? I’m okay with just borrowing them.”

“Nonsense, babe,” she wavers off before shuffling through your now-hearty closet, a closet that’s now bursting with many clothes given by her. “I needed space in my closet anyway, so take as much as you need.”

So (Y/N)’s closet is basically her trash can, a particular shaggy brunette thinks with a roll of his eyes. Ino fiddles with the piece of toast in his mouth as he leans on the doorway, watching as Yuki essentially treats you like her very own Barbie doll at such an odd morning hour.

“(Y/N)’s not a doll, Yuki,” Ino lazily calls aloud through a tired yawn. “You better get ‘em out the door soon or else they’ll get late for work. Especially need that money since the landlord’s been on our ass about increasing our rent…” he mutters, sniffing. “Damn bastard.”

She snaps at Ino to be quiet and let her work before she shuffles on a regal blue overcoat over your shoulders that completes your look. When you look at yourself finally in the mirror, you almost think there’s a stranger in your house from the way you look so dignified compared to the you just three days ago. It’s a simple outfit with not much layering, but it’s still enough to ooze charisma and elegance to wandering eyes. You’re adorned in a white weaved sweater with flared, light-wash jeans and white boots to match. Over the outfit lies the coat that drapes almost like a king’s mantle behind you and the pageboy cap as your crown.

Yuki creeps up behind you, her manicured hands on your shoulders affirmingly. “How’re you feeling, hun?” she asks quietly as she shares the same sight with you in the mirror. “Don’t you look wonderful?”

You know that it was all her work, it was all her creativity that made you into the artwork that you are now, so breathlessly laugh with a smile on your painted lips and thank her quietly once more before whispering, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

Her eyes study you for another minute, going to stare at the glasses still atop your face. Yes, they were new and much more modern considering she quite literally called your old pair atrocious, snapped them in half, and tossed them over her shoulder, but she was still quite dissatisfied when you told her about your hesitance about using contacts. “Are you sure you don’t want to give contacts another chance?” she sighs.

You shake your head with a small smile, “I’ll feel completely naked without them,” you murmur, “Besides, I think they actually compliment this look, if I’m being honest.”

Her lips stretch out into a grin, too absorbed in her fashion education finally being used.

“Well then!” she begins to drag you by the sleeve out your room. “We wouldn’t want you to be late then for your first day as the new you, right? Let’s get you a cab!”

Somehow, you think you really are at your first day at work again from the way you feel that same fluttering in your stomach and from how the people you’ve once grown accustomed to seeing in the early mornings are not merely passing you with mundane nods of their heads but instead, greeting you with wide-eyed gawks and open-mouthed smiles. Some of them, a few who you knew but never spoke a word to, even do a double take and compliment you aloud on the new look. Even the cute barista in the lobby that never bothered to spell your name right at last did after finally taking a good look at the holder of the card.

When you exit out of the elevator, Manami nearly drops the pile of magazines she’s holding when she spots a refined and refreshed you. You offer a bright smile to her and you watch as her gasp slowly forms into an affirmative grin when you round your desk.

She laughs softly. “And who might you be?” she asks with a tease in her voice. “‘Cause last time I checked, that’s my coworker (Y/N)’s desk.”

“I murdered them,” you shrug nonchalantly, earning another chuckle from her. You take it as a good sign, great even, considering up until now, Manami had been rather stoic and a little indifferent towards you because of your amateurism; but now, you suppose that ditching that Plain Jane from just two days ago is finally beginning to do you good by finally grounding a proper relationship with her. “Shame, isn’t it? Poor thing.”

“Truly,” she nods. Her eyes trail further down until they spot something that makes her gasp. “Don’t tell me those are—”

“—the new calfskin gold studded Louboutin boots?” you finish for her. You flex your ankle and show off the ravishing red bottoms of your shoes. “Oh yeah.”

Manami squeals in excitement and rushes over to your desk, begging to take a look at them. “How on earth did you manage to get your hands on these?! I’ve been looking for them fo—”

The elevator dings again but with a tone that makes you and Manami flinch. Both of you stiffen and straighten out your posture, falling into a thick silence when out comes Geto traipsing out like he usually did—his aura being nothing less than dominating. You and Manami chime out in sync a good morning to him as he saunters towards his office as he begins to shuffle off his coat as usual to toss to you until he looks up and catches you in his field of vision.

He stops all of a sudden with his eyes dancing about your figure, a stark contrast to the rest of his paralyzed body. Geto’s lips thin all of a sudden, and so do his eyes when they scan your outfit. He takes in a sharp breath and opens his mouth to say something to you, yet nothing comes out, even as your eyes glisten with anticipation.

It merely instead zips itself close and he finally whisks himself into his office, coat still on and briefcase still in hand, and slams the door shut.

But not without glancing at you one last time.

Much has changed in the past month for the better.

Yuki was a godsend—she had been your guardian angel, your fairy godmother of sorts—because you swore your career life had taken a complete 180° the moment your closet was revamped. Ever since that makeover, you had felt so much more confident in your actions, so much lighter on your feet. The price of your efforts was beginning to pay off as well, as Geto began to slowly thaw his icier sense of self when you began to actually put effort into your appearance. His thrusts of his coat towards you began to become less aggressive, was significantly more lenient when it came to more of the impossible tasks, and had at one time actually muttered a ‘good morning’ to you and Manami after months of greeting with silence and judgemental glances.

She’d occasionally check up on you every once in a while, usually to offer new clothes that she didn’t want anymore. And by offer, it actually just meant packing them in a box from her place to yours with a post-it that’d usually read “With love, YT ❤” in neat cursive. Along with forming a close bond with Yuki, your relationship with Manami improved significantly, especially when you gave her those white Louboutins she was eyeing. She often invited you to lunch with her other friends, Larue and Remi.

The iconic John Galliano once said that, “The joy of dressing is an art.” A month ago, you would’ve never believed what you would think is a rather tacky statement, but now, you can truly see it to believe it. It never occurred to you to actually look at your surroundings closely, but you often would sometimes take a few seconds out of your day to admire the many colors and materials that would adorn your coworkers. Whether it be admiration for their sense of style or mild jealousy over luxurious pieces, you were finally understanding what makes fashion, fashion.

And your epiphany was awarded today with the task that you thought would never come into the light of your days working for Geto—being tasked with dropping off The Book.

The Book was a collection of pieces that were needed for the upcoming edition of the magazine, regarding it as being the most important item in the entire company. It was a duty that usually Manami tended to, but she hypothesized that you managed to finally get on Geto’s good side after a while and congratulated you. Manami spoke to you briefly about how trivial The Book was to both Geto and Kaizen. She told you about how you must guard it and Geto’s key to his penthouse with your life, and that you were to remain absolutely invisible to him if he was in the apartment. Manami told you because it was usually the hour he needed most concentration—it was during the later hours of the day that he usually mended last minute edits to the edition or he was working on his latest fashion collection since he was only able to work on it during the weekends as Kaizen took too much of his time.

Manami told you he would most likely be found on the second floor of his penthouse, and you were to remain on the first floor at all costs.

“The editors will finish The Book around 10:30 or 11:00 at night, wait in the office until then. Then, drop the book off at his penthouse at no later than 11:30 with his dry cleaning, too.”

Her words echo in your mind as you tiptoe out of the cab and look up to see a gleaming, glamorous building sitting in the heart of the city. It’s one you’ve passed a plenty of times—hell, you pass it on your way to work—but it never occurred to you that it’d be this antique white, Parisian-styled building that would be the abode of your boss.

“Take the elevator to the top floor and enter his apartment. Do not call out his name, don’t wander around, don’t even make a single sound. You are nothing more than a ghost when you step foot into his house.”

The only doors that are on the very top floor of the apartment complex are two large metal doors that sit before you. You enter the key into the keyhole and push them open with controlled force, closing them as quietly as possible with Manami’s whispers still floating about your head. You knew that Geto was certainly a man of luxury, but to see that wealth exempt in a form other than fashion was a sight that you weren’t sure if your eyes deserved to feast on. Sculptures and paintings decorated the foyer and hallway, adding occasional splashes of color to the ivory-adorned apartment. After hanging the dry cleaning in the designated coat closet, the first room you enter - and perhaps the only one you’ll ever be in - is the said living room with the glass coffee table sitting in the center of it.

“Place The Book on the coffee table in the living room. That’s it. Do not toddle any longer in his house and get out immediately. Don’t let curiosity get the better of you and just simply go afterwards. It’s for your own good.”

But oh, how curiosity is just a little devil of temptation that sits far too easily on your shoulder. A house holds the most of a person, and Geto is just an all too mysterious enigma for you not to at least dip your toe in. The doors at the end of the hallway are waiting for you, but so are the picture frames that sit atop the TV stand. You suppose… maybe another minute wouldn’t hurt.

Your feet carry you slowly to the stand and you crouch, adjusting your glasses to get a better look at the pictures. There’s only two of them—six by fours, both in oak brown frames. The first one is a picture of a smiling young girl with short chestnut hair sporting a smile with a cigarette between her teeth. Beside her are two boys taller than her, both making similar faces at the camera. One of them, the one that’s a little taller with silvery snow hair and opaque black sunglasses, throwing a forced, all-too wide grin that almost looks maniacal. It doesn’t require much brain power to know the other figure in the photo is a younger Geto Suguru, his hair shorter in a tight bun with a rare, but soft grin on his face, his gaze affectionate to the others.

The other picture is of the same two boys arm in arm with each other. Both of them are grinning now, with the white haired boy still smiling a little more largely than the other. It doesn’t take long for you to assume who the other boy was considering that the shade of purple sheathing his twinkling eyes is unique to only one individual in your life.

Best friends, you suggest in your mind as you study the pictures a little longer than needed. A minute, you thought, wouldn’t do much harm, but how utterly wrong your thoughts prove when you suddenly hear the slam of a door from the floor above. The crash of it makes you yelp and breaks you out of your trance from the pictures and your gaze suddenly snaps to the open stairs above you, as well as two voices echoing aloud.

“Y-you can’t—” an unknown voice wheezes. “I’ve been your muse for years. You possibly can’t just abandon me out of nowhere…”

“You say that as if I’m not doing that right now,” a familiar one replies back boredly. It’s Geto, and his voice makes your nerves electrify in fear because it’s in that moment that you remember that you can’t get caught inside of his house. “This is the last time I’m telling you, Shigemo. Get out.”

The man that you assume is Shigemo heaves heavy breaths. “You need me,” he declares.

“Needed. Past tense,” Geto corrects as he almost forces Shigemo down the stairs with an invisible force surrounding him. You can see their figures above you, Shigemo slowly stepping backwards with each step Geto takes forward. “You’ve done me well these few years, I admit, and I do thank you for that. But I suppose your expiration date has finally come.”

“I’m not a food,” Shigemo snivels. “I’m a person. Most importantly. I’m the reason your fashion line flourished, I was the inspiration for almost all your works. We’re essentially a team.”

They’re towards the end of the staircase, towards where you are still present in plain sight. Your eyes scatter about a place to hide in the meantime, but there are seemingly no places to hide that would hide you well without the notice of Geto’s eyes.

“A team?” Geto barks out a sarcastic laugh, one that makes shivers run down your spine from both the rarity of the sound and how utterly intimidating it is. “I work alone and I always have. There is no point on relying on anyone of any kind when my independence obviously pays off.”

“Who will you have then?” Shigemo retaliates with a whimper in his voice. “You know that I’m the only one that will tolerate you. It’s not like you can go crawling to Goj—“

“Finish that sentence and see what happens,” Geto hisses, causing the other man to fall into a forced silence.

Your eyes finally land on the small space between the fireplace and a pillar. It’s a space large enough for you to fill and efficient enough to hide you from sight. Unsticking your feet from the ground, you make a run for the small space, only for you to forget about the obstacle that was the ottoman sitting spitefully on the floor.

The thud that comes from your body almost rivals the volume of the door slamming open moments earlier and just like the door, it attracts unneeded attention. Geto and Shigemo stop their bickering for a moment to search for the cause of the sound, only to see you humiliatingly face first on the floor. Geto narrows his eyes at the sight of you, an unwanted visitor in his home.

A pained groan slips from your lips accidentally. You silently curse yourself for not taking the time to properly break into the tantalizing loafers Yuki bought you the day prior and wince at the pain blooming from your knees and chest. When you finally get up, you can’t help but notice that everything around you seems rather… hazy.

“Who is that…” Shigemo mutters.

Geto bites back a sigh and instead, pinches the bridge of his nose. He supposes that despite your improved mannerisms, your clumsiness still has yet to dissipate. Annoyed, he grunts out, “One of my new assistants.”

Shaking his head, Geto decides to deal with you later. His home is already suffocated with one individual, he doesn’t need another clogging the atmosphere up. He returns his attention back to Shigemo. “I thought I told you to leave,” he states, shoving his bag towards him.

Shigemo’s face paints a horrified expression once again. “Geto, please rethink this,” Shigemo pleads.

He lets out a chain of pleads and excuses for himself as Geto essentially escorts him out with just walking towards him, his face still icy. Shigemo ends up on the other side of the door to his penthouse and it’s there where his patheticness exudes the most—he falls on his hands and knees like a beggar, claiming he’d do anything and everything just to be by his side.

But his voice is suddenly cut short when Geto finally slams the door in his face, the thickness of them guarding him from Shigemo’s whines. He lets out another sigh and locks up the door securely before dealing with the other parasite in his house.

“I don’t think dropping off a book should take longer than thirty seconds,” Geto drawls as he saunters towards the living room, where you’re still on all fours on the floor, your hands tapping around. “So tell me, why are you still here?”

At the sound of his sharp tone, you freeze. You’re sure you looked utterly stupid and a mess right now, considering that you had just lost a fight to an ottoman out of all things, but you couldn’t let Geto see you in such a state. It didn’t take you long to realize that the reason why everything around you looked so blurry was because of your now-missing glasses that you attempted to look around for. But you pulled a Velma, and just like her, you can’t see without your glasses.

Everyone thinks it’s an exaggeration when you state that you felt utterly naked without them, but you truly did. You’ve been wearing glasses ever since childhood and you really didn’t appreciate the looks you had gotten when you were younger when at times you’d take them off. Some complained that your eyes were too small, too big—others mentioned you looked “off” and “weird” without them. Either way, comments from the other children stuck with you like scars, and ever since then, you refused to be seen without them.

“I a-apologize,” you stutter, shuffling your body to hide behind the recliner so Geto wouldn’t see how much of a clutter you are. You’ve humiliated yourself too much already in the office and the last thing you truly need is for you to get fired merely because your curiosity got the better of you. “I was about to head out and th-then I heard your voice from upstairs and—”

Your words fall deaf on Geto’s ears. He lets out another groan while stretching the aching muscles in his neck as he closes in on your disorderedness. A hand goes to shield your face—you don’t want him to see the bareness of your face, especially since you didn’t bother wearing makeup today. You can’t even bear the thought of him looking at it. In a rushed state, you wander around for your glasses with your head tucked in, using the remnants of your hair to curtain your face.

A jumble of excuses tumble out of your quivering lip, but Geto is too preoccupied with the gleam of something catching his eye. Laying flat on the floor are a pair of glasses that doesn’t take Geto long to presume who they belong to. He plucks them from the ground and examines them for a brief moment before holding them above you.

“I assume these are yours,” he asserts with a cocked brow.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice directly right above you and through your foggy field of vision is the seraphic figure of Geto holding what seems to be your glasses. Lips escaping a relieved gasp, you hurriedly scramble to your feet. Your eyes are too poor to see it properly, but Geto also shares surprise, but for an entirely different reason.

He doesn’t give you the sanity that is your glasses right away, because he’s much too preoccupied studying your face. It’s so… fresh. Your glasses were hiding such a view, like curtains to a window that unveiled the utmost rare and breathtaking sights. The way your eyes are wide open, pupils blown with a touch of singularity makes him even more intrigued because of how they’re uniquely placed onto your face along with the rest of your features. Your lips, plump with a natural sheen to them—your cheekbones, perfectly rounded. The slope of your nose fell just right. Geto studies it like an artist to a blank canvas, devoid of anything yet holding just the perfect amount of space—wanting, waiting to be filled with anything and everything.

When his eyes stare at you in what seems to be bewilderment, you swallow thickly and look away. But you can only glance at your surroundings for less than a second before Geto takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your face toward him again. It’s then that you realize that Geto isn’t staring at you, but your face as a whole. His eyes flick with small movements, dancing about as they go from eyebrow to lips, freckle to lash, examining each and every single particle that your face has to offer.

You feel a heat creep onto your cheeks. You’re not sure whether it’s because of the closeness you and him share or the fact that you can’t detect his opinions on the one thing you’ve been disclosed about for years, but either way, you feel weak in the knees; it only worsens when Geto’s thumb brushes over the entirety of your bottom lip, feeling the plushness of it on his the pad of his finger.

“Has your face always been this open…?” he murmurs softly as he studies the various angles of your face.

You aren’t sure whether it’s a compliment or insult, either or neither. Geto’s tone always had a sort of bleakness to it, but in this very moment, you truly can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“My glasses…” is all you manage to squeak out, fighting the urge to squirm in his grasp. Another gulp goes down your dry throat when Geto’s face contorts to an irritated confusion before he realizes his other hand holds the one thing dear to your heart.

“Oh,” he mutters and hands them back to you. His opposing hand finally goes to release your face. “Right.”

Shaking hands go to put them back onto your face again. Sighing internally of relief of your now crystal-clear surroundings, you dust yourself off with your head once more, tucked into your chest.

“I’m so sorry for this,” you whisper. The heat on your face has now spread to the entirety of your body, your nerves alight with the rush of adrenaline. “I-I’ll make sure this never happens again… good night.”

With that, you scurry yourself out before Geto has the chance to falter. All words to urge you to stay to either scold you or excuse you evaporate on his tongue. He can only watch in a strange silence as your figure rushes down the hall and out the doors, the click of them ringing out in his penthouse.

After moments of self-paralysis, an unknown feeling boils inside the pit of Geto’s stomach. He thinks he’s seen your face before with the familiarity of it unsettling him. The ghost of your face prances about in his mind as he slowly climbs the stairs to his sewing room, ignoring the shattered wine glass on the floor thrown by Shigemo. He instead, refills his own glass again with the nearby bottle of merlot wine and savoring the thickness of it running down his dry throat, embellishing in its warmth.

A single, large window faces the busy nighttime street and Geto walks and stills near it, watching carefully as the speck of your figure on the street below calls for a cab. He eyes how you turn towards the building one more time, doing your usual adjustment of your glasses (it’s a habit you often do in times of nervousness, he’s picked up) before you shuffle yourself into a cab that speeds off into the night.

Geto lets out an annoyed click of his tongue. Something about your face seems haunting and he doesn’t enjoy it. The last thing that he needed for today was even more plaguing thoughts in his head after the loss of his muse not even just ten minutes ago, but now with your face staining the back of his head, his jaw grits in irritation. In a poor attempt to take his mind off the excursion of today and the future, he shuffles about his many sketchbooks to look for any designs he could pluck out for his latest collection.

It’s an hour in, two glasses of wine later, and somehow, he still hasn’t found a single piece to begin working on that fits into his theme. Miraculously, through the vast array of what is thought to be thousands of sketches, Geto hasn’t found one that stood out to him until he gets to the last sketchbook. It’s an early one—he thinks it dates back to his early college days, when he was just beginning to peek into the world of fashion. A pang of nostalgia hits him all of a sudden when he flips to a specific page that was the start of his history.

It’s the very design that had the attention of many designers. The sketch featured a gold and red embellished outfit, a sheen of glittering flickers adorning it. The shirt features a mosaic of gold and small flecks of color here and there, imitating the many church mosaics he’d often admired as a child. The skirt and collar of the shirt were the same shade of blood red, crimson gems bespeckling them.

It’s not the outfit, however, that makes his eyes harden. Why would it? He’s seen it many times before. It’s been brought up over and over again—in interviews, in magazines. It’s one of the staples that made Geto the pillar that he is. He knows every detail of it, much like his other designs, so it isn’t the design of the outfit that made him appalled. It’s instead, the person that’s wearing it.

Because somehow, the eerie sketch of the model’s face that he had drawn years ago…

… somehow replicates your own face perfectly.

a/n: first jjk fic in forever! wowie it's been much too long... also if u need a refresher on who shigemo is, he's the guy with the ponytail that nanami pulled kekeke

10.2k is hefty i know but i couldn't help myself my bad lolol T_T currently just a test run of what i hope to be is a series that some may be interested in because clearly this barely scratches the surface of what i want to embed haha so please let me know how you like it so far :))

continuing, i hope you enjoyed and thank you for taking time out of your day to enjoy my craft, whether it be your first time or your hundredth! once more, likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and are always appreciated (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!!

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unhinged-simp · 2 months

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Obscuary boys with an MC who can see spirits.

(requested in the comments)This was supposed to be out earlier, but my Internet died.

Thank you so much for requesting. I thought this premise was really cool! It reminded me of that one anime girl who suddenly started seeing them. I added a personal hc that vampires can see the ghosts, and werewolves can smell them. So both Ed and Lyca can see/hear them, but Rui can't.

Ed noticed how weird you acted.

You’d keep your head down, or suddenly move your head like you saw something that wasn’t there.

He'd watch you for a week and note whatever he found.

The little habits you did were only around the presence of ghosts.

The ghosts were very powerful, even capable of killing humans.

Ed would give you a little help, nothing too big though.

A couple of trinkets that he had when he was younger that repelled the ghosts, he had no use for them since he was undead.

You’d go to him for advice on how to deal with the ghosts.

Most of the time he wouldn’t give you a concrete answer or sometimes an answer at all, since he's be asleep

Rui would see you have some weird mannerisms, but he wouldn’t know what you were doing.

Why do you suddenly look away, or look over his shoulder with a terrified look.

He was honestly a little terrified at your reactions, and he was a little scared to press.

Ed had to tell him what was going on with you.

It took a bit for Rui to process what he heard, and suddenly your behavior made sense to him.

He would be a bit curious on how it worked, but if you didn’t want to talk to him about it then he'd drop it.

Rui would reluctantly go to Ed about how to help you. Though he would receive only a bit of advice.

He'd wait until you were ready to talk or if you ever needed help with the ghosts.

Rui would try to help you in any way he can, wether that meant listening to you vent, or actually helping you stop them.

Lyca would find you behavior rather odd, and asked about them.

If you told him, he'd be rather confused and concerned.

You can see ghosts? Not smell them? And they’d kill you if they know you’re looking at them.

If you didn’t tell him, he may press a bit more until you tell him.

Lyca would smell the area ahead of time, just to make sure there wasn’t any ghosts around.

He almost fought with Zenji, since he couldn’t distinguish his scent with a dangerous ghost.

You had to pull him away from the scene, though you didn’t tell him that he couldn’t fight ghosts.

Lyca would scout out the areas with the least amount of ghosts and take you there to eat or hang out.

He would do what he could to help you not be around ghosts. He'd also protect you in case one goes to attack you.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #edward hart x reader #rui mizuki x reader #lyca colt x reader #edward hart #rui mizuki #lyca colt

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speedingkamori · 1 month

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hi!! saw in ur rules u write for yandere content👀 if ur down for it, could you write for yandere scout?? lowkey obsessed w ur jealous fic so maybe you could piggy back off that?? just a though?? thank you !!! -🐌

Bandages | Yandere!Scout x reader

Unofficial sequel to: jealousy

Warnings: obviously yandere (possessiveness, extreme jealousy, anger, maybe a little bit of gaslighting… etc), SLIGHT medic x reader if you squint.., not proof read and probably not very good ;-;

I’m glad someone liked it lolol I mentioned before that I haven’t written anything in foreverrr and am very rusty- especially when it comes to things that aren’t fluff @_@ Also SO so sorry for the wait, genuinely did not mean to take this long ugh </3

Scout was ecstatic- over the moon! Now that you we’re finally his, things we’re starting to look up. For the longest time he was being eaten alive by his own unrequited love, sinking deeper into this sickening feeling he had in his gut every time he saw you- but now you belonged to him! He finally had you!

You’d been together for a little while at this point and he expected this awful feeling to go away once he had settled into your new relationship, but to his surprise it was only getting worse.

He felt his stomach drop anytime he saw you talking with any of the other mercs. The way they patted your back when you did good out on the field, the way you’d laugh when they told some stupid joke. God, it was disgusting.

After a particularly tough mission he watched as the medic pulled you into his office, gently tending to your wounds.

“You’re really banged up…” Medic remarked, a small chuckle slipping from his lips. “Not to worry, you’re in good hands!” He had his usual crazed smile as he tended to you.

Scout couldn’t take it anymore and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“Is all that really necessary, Doc?” He huffed, leaning in the door way.

Medic was a bit taken aback by his questioning, but before he could answer you stepped in, excited to see your boyfriend after such a hard battle.

“Jer!” You smiled excitedly. “You came to check on me? Do you care about me or something?” You teased as he let himself into medics office, wrapping an arm around a bit too tightly.

“Course I did, I was worried sick. Glad to see you’re holding up okay.” He wasn’t lying entirely. He knew you’d be fine, what really worried him was you being alone with Medic. I’m his mind everyone wanted you to themselves the same way he did, he had to make sure they didn’t try and take you away.

“You ready to get outta here?” He asked the question as if you weren’t receiving medical treatment. You turned back to Medic, giving him a nervous, but sympathetic smile.

He rolled his eyes, sighing at your antics. “Young love.” He remarked. “Ja, I suppose you’re good to go- just take it easy for the next couple days.”

“Thanks, doc!” You jumped down from the desk excitedly. “You’re the best.”

That set something off inside Scout, he clenched his fist tightly as he felt this rage bubbling up inside him. You grabbed his hand, temporarily snapping him out of his trance as you lead him out of the office. The door shut behind you and he stopped in his tracks, his hand slipping from yours.

“Aw- sorry doll, there’s somethin’ I need to talk to Medic about…” he pressed a firm kiss to your temple that seemed to linger a bit longer than normal. “Why don’t you head back to my room and relax a little bit, I’ll meat you there soon alright?”

You smiled up at him, nodding your head as you toddled off. It was pretty late and you were tired, you had 0 issue getting all comfortable in bed.

Once you were out of sight his sweet expression fell as he re-entered the medical wing.

“Hey, Doc.” He spat. “I gotta bone to pick with you.”

Medic looked up from the supplies he was cleaning up. He sighed in annoyance, not wanting to deal with Scouts shenanigans.

“Alright, but make it quick.”

“I don’t like the way you keep feelin’ up my girl.” He hissed. “I see the way you look at her, but she’s with me! So back off.”

Medic couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t be serious…” he looked down at Scout, seeing the anger in his eyes, he sighed again and rested his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Look, I understand, you are jealous and insecure-“

Scout slapped his hand away, grabbing him by the collar.

“This ain’t about me! This is about you.” He snarled. “I’m tellin’ you nicely to back off, this’ll be your only warning. Don’t make me get ugly.”

“Du bist ein verlorener Fall…” Medic pushed Scout off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, fine. I’ll- I’ll back off.” He wasn’t taking Scout very seriously at all but he was honestly too tired to deal with any of this. Despite this, this was a satisfactory answer for Scout and he seemed to let up a bit.

“Glad we have an understanding…” he huffed. Without another word he turned and left quick.

Medic watched him leave, shaking his head disapprovingly. “There’s something wrong with that boy…” he remarked to himself.

Scout walked away with his heart pounding on his chest, still a bit angry from the perceived competition. In his mind it was obvious that everyone wanted a piece of you- I mean how could they not? You were perfect!

He paced back and forth outside his own door- he knew you were in there waiting for him. He was mulling over every detail, trying to figure out exactly what to say to you. He had to keep you no matter what, he couldn’t let anybody else get in the way. He sighed, relenting as he finally entered.

“Hey dollface. Ya miss me?”

You were obviously excited to see him again and quickly pulled him in, placing a kiss to his cheek.

“Course I did.” You smiled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to take so long I just-“ he stopped himself, thinking for a moment before he let out a small sigh. “I got to talkin’ with Medic and I guess I just got wrapped up in everything…”

“What’d you talk to him about?” You asked it so innocently, not realizing you had taken the bait he set out.

“Just checkin’ up on an injury from awhile back- no biggie.” He shrugged a bit, scrunching up his nose. “But he made a few weird comments about you after you left and- I mean I couldn’t just ignore that.”

You seemed a bit taken aback, your expression immediately falling. Sure, he was a bit eccentric but Medic had never once made you feel uncomfortable.

“What? What kinda stuff did he say?” You laugh nervously, hoping it wasn’t anything bad. Scout say you down on the bed and began to tell you all the uncomfortable remarks the doctor had made. He held your hands tight and said everything so earnestly- you had no reason not to believe him. He had never given you a single reason to doubt him.

“Of course I had to speak up, I mean, I’m not just gonna let this creep disrespect my girl…” he pinched your cheek a little, in an attempt to make you feel better or lighten the mood.

“Thanks, Jeremy.” You let out a heavy sigh, hanging your head. “I-I don’t even know what to say…”

“Hey, you don’t gotta say anything.” He reassured you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’ve dealt with it. You don’t gotta worry about him no more… if you want next time you get hauled in there, I’ll come with- keep watch and make sure he doesn’t try nothing.”

“You’d really do that for me?” You asked quietly.

“You kiddin’? ‘Course I would!” He held on to you tighter, running his hand up and down your back gently. “I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe…”

You laughed softly. “Thanks Jer. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Apart of him felt guilty, for slandering Medic the way that he did. But it was all for you, right? He had to do whatever it took to keep you safe, even at the expense of the other mercs.

#tw yandere #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 #scout tf2 #scout x reader #tf2 scout x reader #✎my writing✎#✎drabbles✎

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 11 months

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hi I'm so excited for your dad Levi event I was wondering if you could do post war Levi

him and reader have been through everything together and never had time for romance but after the war they settle down and she gets pregnant because she always wanted a family

it was hard for me to not just dive into actual smut once i decided how i wanted to write this tbh

Mini-Us | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~700 ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff, suggestive but nothing too explicit

You knew the insomnia was hitting hard whenever you opened your eyes and the room was still shrouded in darkness. On some days, you'd get up right as the sun was rising, but this wasn't one of those days.

You heard some shuffling behind you and, upon turning, saw that Levi was also awake. From the look on his face, it seemed like he hadn't really slept since the two of you crawled into bed a few hours ago. You saw that he was shifting his weight to avoid placing any potential strain onto his bad knee and knew that it was flaring up again. It could've been what was causing his insomnia or vice versa, in which sitting in bed from not being able to sleep agitated it from him being stiff.

"Need me to grab something?" you asked quietly, your voice hoarse from just waking.

Levi looked over at you and shook his head.

"Just stay with me for a bit," he murmured.

"It's 4am," you teased, "where the fuck am I going to go?"

You smirked as you saw his eyebrows scrunch together into a frown, using this time to crawl underneath his arm and place your head on his chest. He tightened his grasp around you, pulling you securely up against his bare chest.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of the soap he had used while bathing that was mixing in with his own. It was comforting.

"Ever think about having a kid?"

The question immediately prompted you to pull back slightly so that you could see his face. You blinked a few times as you looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

You could almost feel the disappointment radiating from him through just his body posture alone.

The two of you had been around each other since forever, having met early throughout your time in the Scouts. You grew close fast and feelings blossomed within the blink of an eye, but you never officially got together until after the war. There just wasn't any time, with the war against the Titans, and then Marley, and then dealing with the events that led up to the Rumbling.

"Nevermind," he grumbled, avoiding your gaze and beginning to turn away.

"Nono, wait," you protested as you reached for him to turn him back towards you. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting the question. I'd..."

You trailed off as you pulled up recent memories of seeing Levi in the position of the fatherly caregiver: handing out candy to the child refugees or mentoring Falco and Gabi, which immediately prompted a small smile to appear on your face.

"I'd love that," you whispered. "You sure you'd be able to handle a mini-us running around?"

He blinked and looked right at you.

"I'm sure we'll manage," he spoke quietly, matching your tone.

You looked directly into his eyes, noting that the moon was reflecting off the gray of his good eye. You gently ran your fingers over his scars, always mesmerized with them and how it symbolized everything that the two of you had survived through.

He pulled you towards him, his soft lips gently pressing against yours. You let out a small 'mmm' as you moved your lips back against his, chills traveling throughout your body as you felt his hand drop from your cheek and down to your waist.

You reached to grab onto his wrist once you felt his hand traveling lower to give him pause, pushing back on his shoulder so that he was leaning back against his pillow. Your lips never lost contact with his as you slowly turned and raised your leg around him so that you were straddling him.

His hands grabbed onto your hips as your kisses grew more heated and you began to feel his tongue against your lips as the two of you got more and more lost within each other's embrace.

You shouldn't have been surprised when you realized a few weeks later that your cycle hadn't come, but you were—and so was he when you revealed the news that you were indeed pregnant with his child.

#follower event #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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kirbybecomesastarwarrior · 29 days

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Okay everyone it's that time again lore drop...

Before the events of Nightmare's defeat... Sir Arthur and a scouting party were sent on a crusade to find the legendary sword Excalibur. But in reality, the scouting party was ordered (by Sir Uther) to secretly murder Sir Arthur. (Why you may ask a lot of reasons)

(This contains some lore from the Kirby light novel Kirby: Meta Knight and the Knight of Yomi)

But the aforementioned cave: where Excalibur was said to be located. Contained a rift to Yomi (created by Morpho..), the would-be assailant (& Sir Arthur) are pulled into the underworld... They are all scattered about the land of the dead...As the story goes: those who are in the land of the dead for three days become... permanent residents.

Being strong-willed enough Sir Arthur was able to retain their physical body and soul... however, he was horribly lost in the lowest level of Yomi (where the most devious monsters dwelled...)

Sir Arthur had been lost in the land of the dead for 120 years. Everyone had assumed he had died... However, this did not go unnoticed by Morpho... who wanted to make a deal with him...Seeing that he had endured for so long... (If they were lucky)could be just the soul (Sir Arthur's) they need...

Not only was he able to get his ticket back to the living world but also... Sir Arthur was able to find something he had long lost... for you see...he and the scouting party weren't the cave's first visitors.

(not sure if I should still @kirbyoctournament but Celty is here so I'll do still :3 )

Guess whose fault it for for Morpho Knight roaming about in the living world!

Sir Arthur is eventually able to tell them (which is what transpires above). Sir Arthur hid this well (until this point) but there was only one person he could not fool, his boy...

youtube

Man of the House part 1 (cut song) from Epic the musical

Spoiler Warning: keep reading for content & drawn images

(Sir Arthur got a cracked Warp Star syndrome, like Lady Celestine!)

Meta Knight & King Dedede: From One King to Another "Man of the House"

When I first came up with this I was trying to figure out... "who on earth is Meta Knight singing" and "Who's going to sing the backup vocals..." then I realized this would be the perfect chance to showcase King Dedede & Meta Knight's friendship. This is after the whole redemption arch of King Dedede near the end of the story arch... after the Forgotten Land Saga.

For those who are not that familiar with the KBASW lore. Meta Knight's story arc is meant to end with him becoming the new leader of the GSA. It ties the anime lore and makes it a major part of the story... along with Sir Arthurs deal with Morpho Knight~

Being an astral born without a warpstar (proof that he was a monster created by Nightmare...) was going to be killed the moment he (Mt) was born (by Sir Uther of course the little rat). But one lone Star Warrior believed otherwise, stopping the execution and convincing the Ancients to spare the infant.

Sir Arthur gifted his original red cape to Meta Knight to give him hope that he could be a hero too! MK was trained & raised by Sir Arthur... so he's more than just his mentor... his hero... his dad. Making it all the more heartbreaking to see Sir Arthur growing weaker by the day...

This is where the whole emotional meat & potatoes are in Meta becoming the leader of the GSA lie...( his dad is growing weaker and everyone is looking to him to take up the mantle) At the point of the story, everyone sees his potential everyone except himself...

That's where King Dedede comes in...

King Dedede gives Meta Knight the final push he needs to make him realize he is worthy and deserving of the position. After Escargoon leaves him, he sees Meta Knight as an irreplaceable person. However, this happens... but despite ensuring Meta Knight's departure from Dreamland he still does it.

Reminding him that he managed to help a raggamuffin like him become and grow into an acceptable leader surely he'd be as incredible as the leader of the GSA. Giving him the reassurance he needs to go after it.

It's a really meaningful conversation because Meta Knight and King Dedede have been helping each other grow throughout the series. Throughout the story, they realize how similar they are to each other... and ultimately become one another's rocks.

They're basically two growing kings coming into their roles. That is all I'm going to reveal before I spoil anything else.

Hope you guys enjoyed it the aske box will get reopened tomorrow!

#kbasw #kirby #meta knight #sir arthur #king dedede #sir arthur kirby #morpho knight #sir dragato #lady celestine #kirby anime #kirby right back at ya #krbay #gsa

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ynscrazylife · 1 year

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His Agent

Summary: When the Avengers save a team of kidnapped S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, they discover something new about their Captain.

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for a little while and I’m proud of this idea/plot so I really hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

The first clue that something was off was the change in Natasha and Clint’s behavior. They could usually hide it, being master spies, but it became difficult to constantly put on a mask around the people you live with, people you saved the world with. Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Thor all noticed how the pair retreated into themselves like turtles would into their shells. They had always been reserved - Natasha especially - but it went to a deeper level now. They would talk in hushed whispers to each other, were always hunched over something, their backs to the rest of the team, and were distracted when it came to Avengers business.

The next clue was when Director Fury postponed his meeting with the Avengers. Since establishing the initiative, he had made a point to have monthly meetings with the team to discuss any recent updates, missions and threats. Fury was adamant that these meetings were very crucial to the Avengers’ success, so to hear that he was pushing it back right as they were gathering around the conference table was a surprise. Still, not enough for them to think it might be related to Natasha and Clint’s behavior. Fury said the meeting would be in a few days, that was all.

Then, things went from being off to being wrong. They all sat at the table, ready to see Fury’s face come up on screen, but he never appeared – Deputy Director Maria Hill did.

“What happened?” Natasha asked almost immediately, not even letting Maria get a word in as she leaned forward in her chair. It was clear that she knew more than what she was letting on.

“Director Fury cannot make it today, he’s dealing with a crucial issue, one that we hope we can call on you, Avengers, to help us with,” Hill said, her words flowing calmly, but there was still a spark of urgency, almost desperation, in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, wearing a puzzled look. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was coming to them for help when they had the best agents around the globe, and the Director was attending to it, they must be in some sort of crisis.

“A week ago, we lost contact with a six person team that had gone undercover to investigate an uprising organization who’s been trying to create their own superhumans. We received intel that they had been torturing people and creating illegal serums and devices for their superhuman projects. After being unable to contact any of them, we also found that none of their trackers were online,” Hill explained.

“So you think their cover was blown?” Tony guessed.

“We do, yes. We had a team scout the building the agents had gone undercover in a few days ago and found no sign of them. We think that they’ve moved them somewhere else,” Hill answered.

“Who’s missing?” Bruce asked.

A file flashed onto the screen, a list of names with pictures. Everyone leaned forward in their seats to get a better look, their eyes skimming the document. The sound of wheels rolling back caught their attention as Steve suddenly stood up, spun around on his heels and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

“What the hell was that?” Clint asked, utterly confused - like everyone else.

Hill sighed. “It may have something to do with one of the Agents on the list – Y/L/N. She helped Steve a lot after he came out of the ice, they were good friends,” she said.

One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. One, two. One–

Steve panted as he stared down at the punching bag which clattered to the ground, sweat coating his raised biceps.

“You know, if you really want to get your frustrations out, you should spar with someone,” a voice floated into his ear and Steve glanced up, only to see you lifting some weights.

He straightened his arched back, dropping his arms. “Oh, yeah? How do you reckon that?” He asked, curious.

You smirked. “You’re not the only one who’s broken the bag,” you said, shrugging. “Though, it took me a lot longer without the super strength.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, wondering what got you so mad, but not commenting on it. Then, he couldn’t help but fix you with a confused gaze.

“What?” You asked, still smiling at him.

“You’re not, uh, gawking at me,” he said.

You chuckled, asking, “Am I supposed to?” Before he could answer, you made a silly, dramatic jaw-dropped, eyes wide face, causing Steve’s laughter to mix with yours.

“Ever since I woke up, everyone’s kinda been . . . gawking at me. Except for Director Fury, that is,” Steve said.

“Well, I’ll admit, I kinda gawked at you at first when I heard about you . . . But I saw you one time, in the medbay . . . I don’t know how to explain it, ‘cause you weren’t just Captain America, you know? When I saw you, with all the blankets and the wires and stuff . . . I just thought about a guy who had been something traumatic. I thought about the Steve that your war buddies always described you as,” you said.

From that day on, you were a light in Steve’s life. You two became fast friends and, at least on Steve’s part, his attraction for you grew exponentially, and you even spent some time with him at the Retreat. After joining the Avengers, he had been so busy that he hadn’t seen you and now . . . Your name was on a list of MIA Agents.

He paced up and down the hallway outside the conference room, hand tangled in his hair. All logical and rational thoughts jumped out the window as panic seized his body, twisting his heart into a knot. His mind was filled with you: your name, your image, your memory. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from giving him horrible scenes of you being tortured or experimented on by these freaks. Hurt. Kidnapped. Scared.

The only way to get you back was to return to the conference room and face it, so that’s what he did. Thankfully, no one called out his abrupt departure, they were all focussed on Hill’s debrief. She was saying something about how she thought they were close to finding another base of the group’s, where they might have the captured agents, but could use Natasha’s hacking and cyber skills to decode their intel. She readily agreed.

“Can you guys suit up and meet us at headquarters?” Maria asked, to which they all nodded. She ended the call and the Avengers all spurred into action, splitting up to change into their suits and arm themselves.

On the way out, Natasha patted Steve’s arm. “We’ll save them,” she assured her friend, but he picked up on what she was really saying: “We’ll find Y/N.”

Steve realized pretty quickly, as he changed into his suit that if he wanted to get through this without falling apart, he’d have to switch to his Captain mode. He had to think strategically - they were saving a team of agents, not just you (even if you were the most important agent to him). He’d put Natasha, Clint, and Tony on fighting the kidnappers, Bruce would standby with the medical team in case they needed the Hulk, and Steve himself and Thor would recover the hostages. He also assumed they’d have S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to secure the base and to back them up. It was a solid plan, Steve told himself, and it was going to work. It had to work.

When they got to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters, Steve relayed this plan to the team. Everyone was on board and now it was a waiting game as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to crack the location. Steve was about to wear a hole into the floor with all the pacing he was doing, his heart hammering in his chest. Every second that passed felt like a decade.

After the location was found, it was all a blur. Coordinating with the agents, talking with Hill and Fury, and getting to the base seemed to just all pass by. The moment he woke up was when he was entering the base alongside Thor, the agents and Avengers ahead of them to take care of their enemies.

“I can handle the rescue, Captain. You can focus on your agent,” Thor chimed in as they walked down the hallway, towards the cells they were told the hostages were in.

Steve paused for a second to look at his friend. “Are-are you sure?” He asked – for once the mighty soldier was taken aback. He wanted nothing more than to devote all his attention to you, but he also knew he had a job to do as an Avenger and a leader. He owed it to all the hostages to give them his best self.

“He has me, of course he’s sure,” Tony’s voice came from behind them as he approached. Steve could practically hear the snark in his voice (Tony Snark, he should be named, but he’d have to save that quip for another time). “They’ve got it handled up there so don’t worry, Cap.”

Steve looked from him to Thor, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Okay,” he agreed, emitting an unspoken word of gratitude which both men received. For the first time in a long time, he felt a weight being lifted on his shoulders. For once, he got to abandon Captain America for a second and walk in there as Steve. For you.

The three Avengers walked down the rest of the hallway and turned, finding a row of cells. Thor and Tony took charge, allowing for Steve to glance through all the cells until he found you. Finding you was what he wanted but the sight he was met with when he actually laid his eyes on you shattered him. The urge to vomit and also send every person responsible for this to hell hit him in one fell swoop. You were sitting, slumped back against a dirty metal pole that your wrists and ankles were chained to. You were still wearing your S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, though it was dirtied, bloodied, and torn in places. So was your skin, Steve realized. He ached at knowing you went through pain. Your eyes were closed and Steve hoped to God that you were simply sleeping.

Steve quickly bent to his knees and used his shield to break the chains, the harsh clang rousing you from your sleep. You mumbled something he couldn’t understand and he hushed you softly. “It’s alright, I’m here. It’s Steve, can you open your eyes?” He asked.

It took you a couple tries, but eventually you got there. “S’ve?” You tried to say, struggling to talk.

“Yep, it’s me,” he affirmed, feeling a pang at the fact that you could barely even speak. When he had thought about when he’d see you again, this was never in the realm of possibilities. “I’m getting you out of here.”

True to his word, he hoisted you up in his arms. He had to put you over his shoulder like a Fireman’s carry in case there were any lingering enemies that escaped the team. Being upside down was surely uncomfortable for you, but he wouldn’t risk not being able to defend you. With long strides and quick glances, Steve got you out of there.

Stepping outside into the world, he slowly lowered you down and maneuvered you into a princess carry, not going fast so as to not dizzy you. In the distance, he could see your other teammates getting loaded onto ambulances, with some of the Avengers assisting.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve checked in, returning his attention to you. You were definitely out of it, eyes glazed over as you looked at him. You didn’t seem to really get what was going on, but you didn’t look panicked, so you must’ve known you were safe. With him.

For a second - Steve was taken back. The tired look in your eyes reminded him of the aftermath of the first time the two of you had sparred together.

“Are you sure you want to spar together, Y/N?”

“What? You don’t think I can take you? Prepare to have your ass beat, Rogers!”

With the super soldier serum running through his veins, it was actually you who had your ass beat by the blond man. You had probably known that would happen when you said it, too. Still, Steve needed to train and you were determined not to let his superior strength intimidate you like it had done with the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Afterwards, you had insisted you were fine, but Steve knew that the many rounds you guys went through had exhausted you. He tried to apologize, but you refused to hear it. You knew what the terms were and you agreed to it - he won fair and square. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder that night, much like how you looked like you’d fall asleep in his arms now, and Steve swore in that moment that you were the most precious thing ever.

“Steve,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like a cat. His heart thumped with such force in his chest - oh how he regretted drifting apart from you after he became an Avenger.

“Hang on a little longer. We’ve gotta get you to S.H.I.E.L.D. medical,” he said, shifting you up a little higher in his arms before heading over to the ambulances.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?” You echoed grumpily, eyes half-closed.

Steve bit back an amused chuckle at the way you scrunched up your nose. Truly like a cat (or a kitten, but he knew you’d raise hell if he called you that). You never much appreciated the medical agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. You knew they meant well, but something about the whole thing made you uneasy. Steve was well aware of that and he thought about it as you walked. The Avengers had a pretty good medical facility . . . Not to mention, the thought of leaving you again and walking away like he had done with the Avengers felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t do that.

“Would you rather recover at the Avengers’ tower? I’m sure I can make the arrangements and I’ll, um, I’ll be around much more,” he offered, his eyes finding you again. He could never look away from you for too long.

Steve was still a little nervous about this. You had every right to say no, to be mad at him for abandoning you. If you did make the decision to go to S.H.I.E.LD., he’d show up in your room with flowers as much as you’d let him, he decided.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nestling your head against his bicep and closing your eyes.

That was like music to his ears. He knew that things between you weren’t 100% back to normal, but this felt better than what he had ever expected. With a newfound purpose and his feelings for you blossoming, he marched towards the other Avengers to tell them about their new addition to the compound.

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missmarveledsblog · 8 days

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Flumpy (Jake seresin x reader) part 10

summary : telling the dagger squad of their engagement getting them to keep it from her dad til she got to tell him well seemed to be hardest thing to do , y/n dealing with the fact jakes gonna be gone for three months wondering what else was being thrown at the couple and why was it answering that question

warning : fluffy and sad but happy ( for once ) , back to goofy and grammatical errors ( soz )

previous part

They were crazy their was no mistake in that , they were crazy for each other and crazy in love . Right now well they looked somewhat bat shit crazy as they announced to their friends of their engagement two days after jake declaration in the hard deck . yet more the silence persisted the dagger thought it was well crazy and yet it oddly made sense . anyone else it would of been grounds for a vacation to a padded cell but with jake and y/n it was something different , a true sort of loves you would find in the pages of a book or on the big screen .

“ guess congratulation” roo finally stood hugging the pair once the initial shock wore off that was .

“ yes finally “ fanboy cheered earning a look from everyone. “Oh shut up we all seen it coming well before hangman fucked it up” he shrugged eating his lunch. One by one they hugged their friends and thanked them .

“ one thing all i ask i don’t want you breathing a word to my dad , we haven’t told him and plan to tonight ,so keep it shut or accidents will happen” she warned them as they all nodded slightly in fear as she worked with their jets and the sides of them .

Our lips our sealed scouts honour” javy gulped holding his hand up and they all copied.

She had to give it to them , their lips were in fact sealed nearly the whole day , that was til it seemed as though it was sealed with craft glue . She sat in the communication tower , getting a better view of the dog fight tag that was currently being played . she and jake had it planned out take her dad and penny to dinner nice even then boom drop it on them which was slightly just an extended version of her plan to hug her dad tell him and run to the car get home before her words even processed but apparently that was childish. Jake wanted to do it the right way , he had pete mitchell blessing to date her but since the mess he made of things and hurt y/n the captain wasn’t as friendly as he once was before so everything needed to be perfect. It was just him and mav left and he was tailing his future father in law . he was stuck at the cross road there and then he could do what he really wanted and hit mav or he could let the man win keep him in good spirits and seemed like javy decided to not only give up the choice but well not exactly keep his lips sealed.

“ come on hangman just cause he’s gonna be your father in law doesn’t mean you need to go easy” his voice rang out not over in jakes ear but over the comms meaning everyone could hear him , mav could hear him.

“ lips sealed my ass” y/n voice called out letting Javy know she heard him too .

Like a blink of an eye Mav was gone as the two looked around wondering how the hell he was able to slip.

“ well least we both get to die at the hands of a mitchell” Javy winced sensing his best friend also wasn’t impressed.

“ gotcha , your out hangman” pete finally said .

Maybe going AWOL wasn’t so bad , new life in a new country with a new name would work and from the look on coyotes face he seemed to be thinking something similar wouldn’t take much to get him to agree . the two men probably flew the slowest they’ve ever flown , landed or got down the ladder. Playing rock , paper scissors shoot to who would exit first . One thing jake would say he wasn’t never truly a nervous person but this was different , this was important to him , to his girl. He was happy pete mitchell didn’t “ accidentally” shoot him out of the sky . His palms felt sweaty once his boots hit the tarmac fully ready to be reacquainted with the gravel once more.

“ you serious about her” mav asked not a single emotion to give away .

“ as a heart attack sir” jake stood painfully straight feeling like he was back in the academy and not in front of his future father in law.

“ nothing like what happen before is going to happen again is it?”

“ no sir never again” could feel the sweat forming on his brow under the mans gaze.

“ guess you we can skip the push up this time i’ll let it slide , welcome to the family son, guess i owe my wife fifty buck” mav shook jake hand although it took the blonde mind to process it all before he started shaking his hand back .

“ man that was a close call” javy breath out sigh of relief .

“ yet for me , the look on my fiance’s face tells me you still done for , it was nice knowing you man “ jake clapped his hands on his shoulder kissing her head leaving javy petrified.

“ get counting” she glared sending the man to the ground ready to say hello to the gravel jake told him about.

It was almost a dream how good the weeks were except the looming fact of what was coming . Turns out nat and roo where also pulled meaning the three of them would be gone for three months . she was sitting at the table some restaurant staring at her ring waiting for nat to come for lunch , staring down at the ring jake surprised her with the day of the good duck park . she almost threw it til he stopped her showed her , which in her defence as cute as it was putting it with the duck feed was probably not the best idea. She wasn’t a stranger to the whole ordeal of deployment , she grew up with it , seeing her dad and his friend men and women she would class as family leaving for periods of time. But it was different this time it was jake being deployed . it was a training exercise and still that didn’t stop the worry because she lost her uncle goose in training . she was so scared of losing anyone in her life , especially considering what they did and now she was afraid that she was going to love the man she loved before their life together even began .

“ hey sorry i’m .. hey what’s wrong” nat eyes widened snapping y/n back to reality only realising she been crying.

“ you guys are leaving me” she sniffled

“ and we’ll be back before you know it” nat hugged her.

“ what if something happens?” she asked tears falling down her cheeks .

“ we got this , we will come back in one piece well with how they annoy me it might be missing piece but i’ll bring them back” nat nudged her playfully.

“ i need to see jake” she stood only to stumble back into nats arms .

“ no i’m going bring you hospital , you ok ?” she lifted her only to see how unsteady she was

“ i’m fine” was all she got out before everything went black .

She couldn’t of heard him right and yet she made the poor doctor repeat it over and over but it was like it wasn’t sinking in like her brain didn’t know the words he spoke .

“ pregnant , you’re sure like how sure” she whispered .

“ yes i’m sure from the test and ultrasound you are around eight to ten weeks , i will give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins the test also suggest you are low in iron which could be why you fainted” he explained gently .

“ this can’t be happening not now , how…. Actually don’t answer that” she wince as her cheeks grew hot knowing the two weren’t a vigilante with birth control as they should of been .

“ you need to take it easy as much as you can , if your unsure you have option but their not to be taking lightly , you should talk with your spouse or partner and go from there but it is your choice at the end of the day “ he smiled sweetly seeing how scared she was. “ i’ll give you some time to collect yourself no rush once your ready you can go home , would you like me to get your friend “ he asked as she nodded.

Honestly she forgot nat was even there , she knew jake would be in the air now but he would of broke the door down if he wasn’t to make sure she was ok . what if he wanted it and she didn’t or vice versa , why was it happening now right before he was about to leave for three months .

“ is everything ok “ nat asked making her shoved the things in her bag.

“ emotional and anaemic i’ll be fine” she smiled weaking knowing she really did need to talk to jake now.

Everytime she even tried to bring it up the universe decided to continue it’s now running joke . she found herself looking at the little black and white sonogram looking at the little blob that was now growing in her tummy and she couldn’t picture anything but loving it knowing what she wanted . she sat in the truck watching the crowds gathering to bid their loved ones farewell .

“ it is bad to think i’m glad your here” jake asked making her head tilt. “ nah not like that i just mean before i used to do this alone , get a friend to drop me off watching families saying good bye it was night to see but man it was lonely as hell i pretended it was better that way but i was jealous of it more so” .

“ oh jake “ she sniffled pulling him into a hug . “ i’ll be here to see you off and welcome you home for the rest of my life”she kissed his lip pulling him in closer .

“ next time i hope to put a different ring on that finger” he winked.

“ starting to think you got wife or marriage kink” she rolled her eyes playfully.

“ nah i got a flumpy kink “ he chuckled getting out of the truck coming to her side letting her out only for her to dive into his arms. She wanted to say it there and then but stopped not wanting to ruin the moment or so she told herself . the two walking to the boardwalk hand in hand , he didn’t let go when she was hugging nat and rooster making them promise to come home . she reached into her bag handing him the sonogram folded over.

“ wait til your on the ship before you look” she whispered kissing him over like it was the last time she was going to and maybe it was giving what was about to happen , what he was about to find out. “I love you jake seresin” she said trying not to cry although she was failing miserably.

“ i love you babygirl “ he held her closer til rooster was pulling him away .

The moment he walked on the ship , he waited like she said coming to the top deck seeing her standing there waving him off and moment he opened the paper he knew what it was. He’d seen enough of his sisters to know he was holding a sonogram in his hands and it had her name in the corner. “ i’m gonna be a dad ?” he muttered unsure pulling his phone out hitting her contact instantly she picked it up . “ darling is this what i think it is “ he asked as he heard here sniffles .

“ it is if you want it to be” she said quiet he hated he was there to comfort her.

“ shit darling you made me the happiest man” he chuckled. “ I’M GOING TO BE A DAD , FLUMPY IS HAVING MY BABY” He yelled so loud she could hear him on the dock and the loud round of applause that followed after.

“ you’re not mad?” she asked shocked.

“ no of course i ain’t this best news i could hope for just wish i wasn’t leaving even more now but least i get to come home to my babies” she almost hear the grin in his voice. “ bradshaw you crying?” she couldn’t help laughed when she heard the usually “ it’s dust” from roo .

“ look baby the service is going to go soon but i will call you once it back get home and rest i love you .. i love you both” he said .

“ we love you too “ she cried then the line went dead she went to the truck crying even more watching the ship get further and further away in the distance.

Jake stood staring at the sonogram the high of it all fading as the reality started creeping in

“ holy shit i’m going to be a dad” he looked to his friends panicked.

part 11

taglist:@harrysgothicbitch @djs8891 @emma8895eb @darksparklesficrecs @sarah-bear706318

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clarabowmp3 · 2 months

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hate brigade? I'm sorry but joe alwyn is directly responsible for a lot of the mental hurt that taylor will have to deal with for the rest of her life. I don't understand how people can hear sll, half the songs on midnights not to mention the anxiety ridden lover album and not see the emotional gaslighting joe was putting taylor through! Like that takes a toll and fans qnd the general public alike has a right to call that out. Now he's saying ish about tayvis when none of this concerns him?? Like if that's not manipulative, my name is Bennett cuz he's literally re inserting himself into the ex he resented' life. Unhinged if you ask me. So I don't think it's fair to characterize people as doing the most in this case. Alwyn could have just kept quiet and ate and ate food but now he deserves the dragging. Peace.

wowww wow okay so a couple of things:

we don't know much about their relationship. all we have is speculation based on taylor's lyrics, but we have to remember she is an unreliable narrator, so at best we can take them with a grain of salt. that is excluding how she might have modified certain things to present herself in a favourable light. I'm not saying she did or didn't, but it's a possibility. I say this because of how she's written music about her cheating. She very obviously focuses on how she was feeling and what led her to cheat, rather than her considerations of how it would affect her partner, which I think is yet another manifestation of how she perpetuates her victim narrative. I'm not saying all cheaters are villains, there's definitely some complex emotions involved, but she writes in such a way so as to encourage the reader to root for her by default.

This plays into her desire to be seen as the underdog or hero that everyone wants to support. She did this with Miss Americana too where she spun this whole standing up for women and other marginalised groups narrative, which I think contributed to being a swiftie becoming a trend, along with her whole 'relatable' schtick, fostering personal relationships etc.

There is nothing wrong with liking her music (I'm not gatekeeping), my issue is with people who treat becoming a swiftie as some girl scouts patch to earn by ripping into her 'enemies,' most popularly her exes. Naturally, he has been put through hell on social media since the break-up, up till ttpd dropped and the attention shifted to matty instead.

I agree that many of her love songs from as early as lover are anxiety-ridden, but I think that speaks more to her personality rather than his actions. Certain events may have transpired and he might have acted in a certain way which made her feel insecure etc but we have no reason to think he did it maliciously. What we do have is reason to think this is extremely unlikely. 2016 was rough man, no one knew if she would ever recover from #taylorswiftisoverparty, and yet he still stuck around. To me I think that shows he genuinely cared about her, something taylor has also thought.

Could you elaborate on the emotional gaslighting he has done, (and hence the "mental hurt" he has caused her) keeping in mind all those other reasons why her music is not an accurate source of info ^^?

getting more specific with sll, I don't see how he did anything wrong? I don't want to get too much into it but I know what it feels like to be burdened by someone else's mental health issues, and I do feel irritated by it at times, even though at the end of the day I know it's something they can't control. There's nothing wrong with creating art about difficult emotions, but I think she did not need to release it for the whole world to hear, knowing that they know who she is talking about. The song itself isn't too egregious, she just expresses her frustration with the whole situation ("you'll find someone," "I'm not the one" -> even she doesn't blame him for anything let alone the emotional gaslighting you're accusing him of anon what are you on 😭) the main problem is when people like you use it to villainise joe. like explain to me what part of it shows his gaslighting

For context here is what the whole deuxmoi thing is about, taken from this post:

You can clearly see that he was expressing an opinion on what he thought was a private enough setting. How could he have known he was going to be overheard and it was going to leak to the internet and eventually reach taylor (if any of this ie even true)? She is his ex of 6 years and it's only been a year since their breakup, I think it's fine that he's still somewhat emotionally occupied with her. We don't know if he obsesses about her every day and since the London travis thing is pretty recent, maybe it was just on his mind that day? Also why does he have to keep quiet? taylor can write whatever she wants in her songs, I think he is more than justified to have a conversation in public. We have no reason to think he meant for this to get out or to "[re-insert] himself into the ex he resented' life," as you put it.

to end off, anon I really think you should touch grass (and I'm not trying to be condescending here) because it feels like you're blowing up select details out of proportion to fit the narrative taylor has created through her music. We don't know how accurate that narrative is.

#had to retype all this when I was almost done 😭#hope i didnt miss out anything #anon #ask #joe alwyn #tayvis #taylor swift #discourse

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askthekuvaqbrothers · 29 days

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Previous part

“This one! It’s red!”

Rufus leapt up towards the board, snagging the corner of the map and freeing it from its pin. Now in hand, he unfolded it, his brother leaning over his shoulders to get a look.

“Oh look, it’s got pictures.” Argus exclaimed, jamming a finger into a shape that looked like one of the local hat-shaped houses.

Cletus frowned, “There’s hardly any words though, only a few are labelled.”

“Do any say Portafisco?”

He scanned the different shapes. ‘Interesting sights of the Three Quarters’ was the maps title, highlighting different landmarks to see in the area. Kuvaq simple had a bubble that read ‘Funny hats!’, and the monorail was called ‘the dark snake’, but following past ‘the last accent’, the ‘So rusty red you’d meet Tetanus sea’, and the ‘floating garbage heap’, there was a blob labelled ‘Our grand Port’

“Port, that matches!”

“Barely.” Cletus rolled his eyes, “but I suppose it’s a start.”

Rufus twisted the map, “So if we go from here, to there, to there, to there, easy peasey!”

Watching his finger trace across the page, Argus pondered, “Isn’t that water though? We can’t walk across that.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Well, no, but-”

Snatching the map, Cletus stepped aside with his nose in the air, “That’s what a boat is for. We’ll get as close as we can, and then find a boat.”

The three shared looks, before all nodding in agreement. They had a plan; it was time to find their father.

“I’m tiiiired.”

Rufus dropped onto the metal beam they’d been following, bowing his head, while Cletus struggled not to copy him. It was now becoming clear the map omitted a very important thing: How long it would take to get from one place to the next.

It was also dawning that this was the furthest they’d been from Kuvaq, the town now only seen as the dip in the land behind them. If they went further, it would disappear entirely.

“May… Maybe we should turn back.” Cletus clenched the front of his jacket, regretting having left Poisonous at home, “It smells even worse out here, a-and I’m not sure we’ll be able to find where home was amongst the hills…”

Rufus looked up, scanning the area around them. So far they’d followed a dirt path, then the pair of wiggly beams that were for mine carts, because they were supposed to lead to the ‘last accent’ where there should be a boat. His legs hurt, and curling up in bed did sound very good right now, but the nagging thought that their dad wouldn’t be there to tuck them in put a damper on that desire. Besides, they’d barely had an epic quest yet, he couldn’t go home without an epic tale.

“Hmf, well if we find dad, he’d surely know the way home and be able to lead us! Even more reason to go!”

“But we don’t know how long any of this will take! What if by the time we get to the port, dad’s already on his way home? What if we get stuck and miss him? What-“

“I think I see something!” Argus called, scurrying down from a tall pole he’d used as a scouting point, “The tracks go into a tunnel up ahead, but over that I think there’s a tower.”

Rufus threw himself back onto his feet, “Onwards then!”

Neither of his brothers had time to comment as he marched ahead, leading them up to a little warehouse built through the junk. After a glance around his eyes lit up at the sight of a machine with wheels.

“A chariot!”

“Rufus wait!”

Argus took a firm hold on the sleeve of his shirt, yanking Rufus back into line.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?”

“Gizmo always said that when you enter a junk mine, you have to make sure it’s safe first.”

“Tsk tsk,” Cletus shook his head, “And here I would have gotten a good laugh if something fell on his head.”

Rufus pulled his arm from the hold, “Ugh, I can hear nothing is falling, it’s fine. Besides we gotta hurry.”

He scurried over to the cart, clambering into the seat and began pulling at the leavers.

“Bleh, it’s not moving.”

Crossing his arms, Argus frowned, “See, you didn’t have to rush.”

He was ignored, “Guess it’s up to me to fix it!”

Dismounting, he began flipping panels on the cart until one revealed an empty socket, just big enough for his fists. Then he plucked at the wires, watching them wiggle so he could trace them back to what they connected to.

“Hmm, Uh hu. So that, mmmh… ah ha! Cletus!” He grinned as his brother jumped, “I need a square doohicky on a ball dowhatsit. Then a fandngle on a puzzler in green!”

Cletus stuck up his nose and pouted, to which Rufus rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you wanna get to Dad quick?”

“...You didn’t say the magic word.”

Argus nodded, “You didn’t.”

“UUUUGH. Pleeeeease go get me everything I just said you big headed party pooper.”

There was a sound of annoyance in reply, but Cletus did turn to begin picking over the scrap around them. Argus watched on as his brothers worked, eyeing Rufus in particular as he pointedly ignored his presence. The red-head had been pushing back against his authority recently, and while Gizmo would say that independence was a party of growing up, it made him very annoyed to suddenly be questioned and rebuked so often.

For now, he had to let it go. Their main goal took precedence over his brothers rebellious nature, so he took it upon himself to help Cletus lifting heavier objects, and eventually forcing the random shapes into the combination Rufus wanted. When Cletus handed them over, they were shoved into place with little finesse.

Then he clambered back on and tried to turn the cart on again, this time it's engine roared to life.

“Bingo! Hop on!!”

Sitting far enough forward to reach the pedals left room for his brothers to climb on the seat behind him, each having to hold onto whatever was near.

“Hey, do we know where this is going to-”

“GO!!”

"““AHHHHHHHH”””

The cart suddenly rocketed down the tracks, vanishing into the mouth of a tunnel, tipping left and right as it rounded corners and bends, of which there were a lot. The veritable maze of track spun them around and around, bumping and shaking all the while.

“SLOW DOOOWN!!”

Squinting through the wind, Rufus reached about for a leaver that would hopefully be the break. However the one his hand wrapped around simply pulled away from the machine as he yanked on it.

“Uh-oh.”

He felt his brothers tightly grip his back as they circled around yet again. They were stuck in a loop, their speed not decreasing.

“L-look!” Cletus came right beside his left ear, pointing to the right, “That post- Arrows!”

As they zoomed past it, they all noticed the track split in two.

“We need to pick the right path!”

On the next loop, they all squinted into the wind, searching for a solution.

“There should be a switch!” Argus hissed through gritted teeth. “Should.”

There was certainly a hole, but no lever for the switch, though Rufus glanced at the break still clenched in his hand.

“Okay so-!”

On the next round, the three had created a chain from themselves. Argus had his legs wrapped around the base of the steering wheel, and his arms cinched around Cletus waist, face pressed to his belly. Cletus had his legs wrapped around Argus' chest, while his arms held Rufus, who dangled as far off the cart as possible, stick in hand. As they sped towards the split, Rufus drove the lever into the hole and held on tight, pulling it enough to trigger the switch.

However, the act had caused the cart to begin to tip to the side, the left wheels lifting up, and with the cart now taking the right track into a massive bend, they were staring down a steep junk hill.

“We’re gonna falll!!”

“No. We’re. Not.” Argus gritted out, daring to unhook one leg from the steering column to then throw it over the air-born side, using it to pull himself and the other two further to that side, until the weight evened out and the cart returned to four wheels with a bounce.

The three remained interwound as the cart continued its speedy travel, though the turns felt different this time, until light suddenly assaulted them from the caves exit. They sailed out into the open air, but the ends of the track here had been curled up at its completion, creating a ramp that sent the cart flying.

“““AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”””

The brothers flew, the massive tower waiting for them just by the water.

Next Part

#Deponia #deponia au #kuvaq brothers #rufus #cletus #argus #Journey #Journey part 3

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putaposyinyourhair · 1 year

Text

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

noah diaz x mirage (boys who are friends aka boyfriends 🧍🏽➕🤖🟰❤️)

warnings: mirage being himself and optimus being unamused

ratchet’s in the building y’all

The towering, decaying walls and partially caved-in ceiling give the chapel an eerie aura— the only source of light coming from the rays of sunlight streaming in through the broken glass of the early twentieth-century structure’s rose window— and Noah’s positive that if his ma were here, she’d be handing out bendiciones every five minutes. But the atmosphere isn’t what’s currently making Noah shift from one leg to the other anxiously.

“You disobeyed a direct order.”

Just as Arcee had predicted, Optimus is not a happy camper.

“Does it count as direct if Rat-trap’s the one who told me I couldn’t leave though?” Mirage drawls, one digit held in the air as if he’s actually making a point.

Noah has to curb the urge to drop his face into the palms of his hands. It’s an easy feat to accomplish seeing as he’s trying really hard to not bring any attention to himself.

The newcomer— who Optimus had introduced as his chief medical officer, Ratchet— reaches out, past his leader’s shoulderpad, to deliver one hard thump to the back of Mirage’s helm with a heavy servo.

Noah flinches minutely— the sound startling him more than anything really— and he finds himself glad for both Arcee and Bumblebee standing at either of his sides. He doesn’t think Ratchet would ever try and hurt him or anything— he’d pretty much been ignoring Noah’s presence since their brief introduction down at the dock— but nevertheless, the comforting presences of the scout and sharpshooter instill within Noah a small sense of security.

Mirage stumbles forward a step from the force of the hit, shaking his helm like the whack’s made him a bit dizzy, before he straightens back up with a pout pulling at the mouth plates that act as his lips.

“Yo!” he cries. “Party foul, man!”

The mech looks up at Optimus and thrusts his servos out.

“Prime, bro, you gonna let him treat me like that?”

Optimus does nothing but stare down at the spy kind of blankly, like he can’t believe he has to deal with this kind of shit day in and day out. It would almost be funny, if it weren’t coming from the infamously solemn bot.

After a moment of silence, Mirage lowers his servos with an offended scoff.

“Oh, it’s gon’ be like that, huh? Alright, I’ll remember that.”

There’s no real animosity behind his words though and Noah gets the feeling that this stuff happens a lot around here; Mirage breaking the rules and Optimus having to deal with it like an exasperated father.

“We will discuss this further at another point in time,” Optimus decides, turning away from the smaller mech. “For now, there are other more important matters that require our attention.” He makes a vague gesture in Bumblebee’s direction.

“Show them, Bee.”

The black and yellow bot steps forward, whirring in a way that makes Noah think he’s excited to show them whatever it is. The mech reaches up to the side of his helm and a moment later a stream of light beams out of the very same spot, projecting an image into the middle of the room.

It’s… wow.

Noah contains the urge to rush forward and gawk like an idiot as the image shows something that, to him, looks like a meteor falling from blue skies and crashing into the face of a strangely vermillion yet still snow-capped mountain. He blinks.

“Where is this?” he questions, before he can stop himself. He inhales sharply and bites down into the corner of his bottom lip.

Way to go, dumbass.

He’s not even supposed to be here. Probably— more like definitely— isn’t supposed to be seeing any of this. He’s only here because of a fluke, because Mirage had snuck out to see him.

He’s not one of them. None of this is any of his business.

Still, the way the shimmery image loops is fascinating and Noah can’t help but be awed by it. Sue him, he’s an electronics nerd and the tech the autobots possess is all kinds of amazing to him. He’d love to find out how the projection works.

Ratchet— who is standing on the other side of the room from him, with Optimus and Mirage— snaps his gaze over at the sound of Noah’s voice and Noah watches as the medic’s optical ridges furrow, like the bot had legitimately forgotten all about his presence.

“The humans call it Pike’s Peak,” Optimus divulges. “It is located in the state of Colorado. At around ‘oh eight hundred hours mountain standard time yesterday, this, as of yet, unidentified object impacted at around thirteen and a half thousand feet.”

Colorado. The Rockies then.

“The United States Army and the Department of Homeland Security were on site quickly but all they found was an empty crater.”

Noah’s eyes widen.

“Meaning whatever it was, it’s long gone,” Arcee realizes, stepping forward and studying the image for a second, before her gaze snaps up to her leader. “Optimus… could it be one of ours?”

“It’s possible,” Optimus acknowledges with a small tilt of his helm.

“But there’s also a chance it could be…” Ratchet trails off, his optics lowering to fix squarely on Noah.

Noah starts, taking a small step back— closer to Bumblebee, who buzzes inquisitively at Noah’s proximity.

“It is alright, Ratchet,” Optimus advises, his gaze sliding over to Noah’s form as well— the large mech’s optics pulsing a bright blue. “Noah is…” The bot trails off for a second, his astute gaze settled firmly on Noah as he seems to think on it.

And Noah honestly feels like he holds his breath in that moment, awaiting his judgement.

“He is one of us.”

Noah’s breath rushes out of him so fast, it catches somewhere between his diaphragm and his throat, and he releases a small squeaking sound.

He’s what now?

Across the room, Mirage beams and stealthily thrusts a servo up into the air before Ratchet shoots him a brusque look, causing the silver and blue bot to snap to attention— servos fisted at both of his sides and chest plates held high— but with an impertinent, yet subtle, roll of his optics.

Noah’s stupid heart skips over a beat again.

He’s sure one day he’ll figure out why Mirage seems to like his companionship so much.

… and figure out where exactly Mirage had heard the word, ‘cariño,’ and decided it was the perfect term to use on Noah— along with the growing list of pet names he’d been dishing out all last night.

Ratchet huffs in response, both to the spy’s antics and their leader’s proclamation.

“It could be a decepticon,” the medic reports cautiously. “Before I crash landed on this planet, I was being hunted by one. I believe he calls himself Barricade. One of Starscream’s underlings.”

Noah frowns and, emboldened by Optimus’ unexpected vote of confidence, steps out from underneath Bumblebee’s shadow.

“What the hell’s a decepticon?” he queries boldly.

“Brutal, merciless warriors,” Arcee informs him, glancing down at him with such a disheartened look that it makes Noah think she’s probably got some painful history with these so called decepticons. “Obsessed with conquering our home planet, Cybertron, and expanding out into the universe. Last I remember, they were under Soundwave’s leadership. Are you saying Starscream’s taken control, Ratchet?”

Optimus lifts a servo again, towards Bumblebee, and the scout reaches up to shut off his projection.

The stream of light flickers out of existence, thrusting the furthest reaches of the chapel’s main area into shadow.

“Unfortunately, I can’t say,” Ratchet professes. “Ironhide and I were in hiding together for quite some time. But he wished to return home and make a stand. Whilst I knew that was a suicide mission. When he failed to return or even check back in, I decided I needed to make another attempt at locating Optimus. But as soon as I stepped out of hiding, Barricade found me. I’ve been running ever since.”

That sounds miserable, in Noah’s opinion. Always running, always hiding. Looking over your shoulder. He can’t imagine a life like that.

“Okay, so we go find out what exactly fell on that mountain,” Mirage pipes up. When all eyes and optics in the room turn to him, he cringes a little and adds on a tiny, “Right?”

Optimus takes a moment to glance around the room, scanning his team.

“I hacked into the communication network the humans are using,” he informs them. “They have received multiple reports of an unusual patrol vehicle in the nearby municipality of Cañon City, approximately 30 miles southwest of Pike’s Peak.”

“A patrol car?” Arcee queries, the tone of her voice hitching. She turns away after a moment, optics fixed on a splintered pew that’s been shoved into a corner, muttering to herself.

Noah thinks he hears her say, ‘It couldn’t be…’ but he could be wrong.

“As much as I hate to agree with the disrespectful little sparkling,” Ratchet gripes. “Mirage is right.”

“Whoa, pump the brakes, you half-clocked burnout—“

Mirage’s sharp objection is cut short by a sudden shrill squeal that comes from Bumblebee— a sound that causes Noah to flinch away from the mech, both hands flying up to cover his ears. The noise is quickly followed up by Ratchet attempting to once more reach past Optimus, servos clawing the air in Mirage’s direction.

“Enough!” Optimus booms, lifting his own servos to put distance between himself and both bots at either of his sides. “We do not have time for these infantile games. You are soldiers and I expect you to behave accordingly. Am I understood?”

Mirage, for his part, exhales softly and hangs his head shamefully, digits fidgeting at his sides.

Ratchet huffs and turns away, arms crossing over his blue and white chest plates as he grumbles beneath his breath.

Noah can’t help but feel a little bad for Optimus in that moment. It’s clear the mech could seriously do with a nice long vacation on a beach somewhere.

“Wheeljack is already inbound,” Optimus discloses with a suffering sigh. “We depart tomorrow morning at ‘oh five hundred hours sharp. Destination, Cañon City, Colorado.”

At this revelation, Noah finds his feet suddenly stumbling forward— like a magnet is attracting him— carrying him across the room, towards Mirage.

Mirage seems to be just as affected by the metaphorical magnet though, because he shoots forward as well, meeting Noah halfway whilst looking to Optimus with a look on his face that’s kind of indiscernible to Noah.

Optimus meets the shorter mech’s stare head-on.

Noah impulsively reaches out once he and the blue and silver bot are within touching distance and places a hand against Mirage’s thigh guard, watching as Optimus’ stare drops from his spy to Noah.

“Noah, having you along on this mission would be considerably beneficial,” Optimus establishes with an assured nod. “As I have said, you are now one of us. And it is our— my hope that you will agree to join us and continue to aid us in our plight.”

Noah’s brows shoot skyward, his eyes widening up at the bot.

“Are you for real?” he inquires abruptly, not even pausing to figure out how he feels about what’s being asked of him.

“Yes, I am… for real.”

Oh.

“Aw, yeah!” Mirage crows at his side. “Road trip!”

#noah x mirage #norage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #mirage x noah

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moonlight-tmd · 7 months

Text

Bumblebee has just a natural talent to make friends.

Enough with the angsty shit, time for some good stuff- Bee, despite being dragged thru so much shit in his own life, is still a happy and hopeful ray of sunshine. He always looks at stuff on the positive side and tries to make everyone smile.

He may be a "side character" in the world but he's that one side character everyone loves. He's cheerful and kind and can be a menace full of jokes but at the end of the day everyone enjoys his company. He has that charm that could bring out that little bit of childish joy in anyone he spoke to.

Which is why he somehow befriended the Decepticons residing on Earth.

When Team Prime first got on Earth, Bee was the first to befriend Sari. He had no issues befriending local citizen and making little friend groups here and there.

Then Lugnut and Blitzwing arrived on Earth. It was quite a mess the first time they all met. Later on Blitzwing went off to explore stuff and bumped into Bee wandering out at night in hopes to do something fun. They were supposed to fight but Bee derailed their initial argument to a discussion about something stupid and then into a talk about interests. Tadah, Friend #1.

I suppose Starscream joined in on Earth shortly after. He didn't really enjoy Lugnut's company and went to 'patrol'. Then he saw Blitz and this little yellow autobot on some outskirts area and came down to see the fight.

...Except there was no fight.

They two had gathered much scrap from the nearby yard and were trying to build a fort out of it. Starscream had just dropped in unannounced and made a mess from one of the piles. Of course he argued about them hanging out when Bee scolded him for destroying their hard work, but they just seemed to ignore it. Of course, Bee accused him of being jealous of not being able to build a fort like them... and somehow, Starscream bit the bait and they had a bet. While Bee and Blitz build one side of the fort, Star built the other. It ended in them all correcting each other's mistakes and making a pretty nice fort. Friend #2.

...Then the Autobots got a call about some giant robots being rowdy in the area. Bee wasn't picking up so that got them a bit worried, but when they got to the place there was just this small fortification of some sorts with scrap and tarp hanging from it. In their attempt to sneak closer someone knocked over some left over scrap and Blitzwing popped up from behind the wall.

"Who is intruding on our land?!" He was set on his freaky black face, soon enough Bee himself popped up from behind the same wall.

"Bee- get out from there!!" Optimus tried to warn. Bee and Blitz just looked at each other for a second before Bee simply answered. "No."

So instead of a fight there was just this confused argument between Blitz+Bee and Team Prime about the fort. At some point Starscream popped out from behind the same wall as them and yelled at them to frag off and that they're "having important discussions". In reality Blitz went and stole some oil barrels and rusted rods as snacks and they had a little tea party.

Team Prime was just arguing with a bunch of childish idiots in a makeshift fort. When they tried to get close they were assaulted with snowballs (Blitz made them) so they just left them to their thing.

It got even weirder when Megatron was revived. I imagine he captured Bee to interrogate and tried to get him to spill info but at that moment he was tired and annoyed with what the frag his soldiers were pulling in base and Bee caught onto that. So instead of Megs interrogating Bee, the scout talked with Megs about shit he was tired of dealing with, even cracked some jokes that Megs surprisingly chuckled at.

It didn't take long for Lugnut to also take a liking to Bee. After he befriended Megs and Blitz he kinda had a free pass to come hang out in the decepticon base. Lugnut caught Blitz talking with Bee and tried to report it to Megs, but the warlord only joined in on the gossip. Lugnut doesn't have much personal interests outside his job but Bee got him to open up a bit.

Shockwave was very confused when he saw Bee just casually taking with Megs over some oil. He was already tamed by the minibot and didn't need any time to warm up to him again.

I suppose Bee also befriended Blackarachnia in the meantime. He caught her hanging out in some abandoned building and derailed the fight into a talk. So she's now like a mean cool aunt to him.

Starscream also introduced him to his clones, they all know to not harm the little guy. He's very likable. Skywarp has a special friendship with Bee considering he's very skittish and Bee provides the best quality comfort.

All of the Decepticons have an unspoken promise to protect this ray of sunshine at all cost. Funny to imagine Lugnut just fighting Autobots when some building crumbles and he ditches it all to stop it from falling on Bee, then he picks him up and places him some distance away and continues fighting the other Autobots.

I don't actually know how the Autobots are gonna cope with this- like, on one hand it's nice that Bee doesn't get hurt but on the other hand these are Decepticons and the "friendship protection" doesn't apply to them.

They also can't make Bee not go and hang out with them cuz Bee will find a way to sneak out and do so anyway and the 'cons will be pissed and possibly wreck more havoc if they find out Bee is grounded.

#maccadam #tfa #tfa bumblebee #crack idea #guys i solved the war #bee just befriends everyone no more violence #he's just friends with everyone except the “right people” and makes a fuss everytime someone tries to stop him #he's not doing anything treasonous they are just having a water fight #and possibly gossip and advice over some drinks

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amywritesthings · 1 year

Text

silver underground. / chapter six.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: Day 121 - Also known as the day you officially leave the cadets and join the Scouts.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Eventual Romance, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Flashbacks, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Nonbinary Hange Zoe, Touch Starved Idiots

( Read on AO3 )

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER SIX.

“Are you ready to head out?”

A perky voice breaks you from your fixated attempt at dragging the remaining pesky leather straps up your left thigh. You’d been rearranging your uniform for what feels like hours — taking it off, putting it back on, staring at your wavering reflection in a bucket of fresh water in the barracks to see if maybe you look out of place.

You certainly feel like you are, as the cadet that joined for three-something weeks only to disappear, plucked up by the Scouts at a moment's notice. An anomaly.

What you're wearing isn’t your old uniform, not exactly — that one’s cut up, bloodied and destroyed in a pile of ashes with all the other discarded jackets and trousers — so you’ll have to get used to the one they’ve given you.

At least the Wings of Freedom reside once more between your shoulder blades.

(A gift from Commander Erwin, who could not attend this momentous departure from the training camps to the real deal.)

“Hey, Petra,” you call back to her, dropping a boot onto the wooden floor. She watches you with budding excitement. “Are we leaving now?”

“Just about!” she exclaims. “Eld is finalizing supplies, but we’re ready when you are.”

“Great.” You hold both arms out as you walk to the doorway. “So?”

It takes her a minute, but her eyes finally connect with the white and blue emblem. “Oh, finally, you got your jacket back!”

“Erwin apparently sent a new one over with Hange,” you tell her as you follow her leisurely pace towards the front of the cadet training camp.

“Are you feeling good about this?”

“About coming back to the Scouts?” you ask. She nods in confirmation. “I’m a little nervous but yeah, I feel good.”

“Don’t be nervous. We’re like a little family.” Petra pauses, making a face at the sight in the near distance: a man with dark hair waves his hand beside worn wooden wagon, where several people and horses wait their departure. “...a bit of a weird family but a family nonetheless.”

“Oi! Is that her?” the man shouts across the way, standing on his toes to wave harder — like Petra doesn’t see him.

“Yep!” Petra calls, murmuring low to add, “That’s Gunther Schultz. You always kicked his ass in spars. He's never not been bitter about it.” She chirps again to him in her sweet, peppy voice. “It’s her!”

“A-ha! Alright, awesome!” Gunther replies, dropping his hands to his hips.

From here you can see the silhouette of a tall person with a high ponytail sitting at a spot at the head of the wagon, body facing you — Hange. On their left sits a man on a horse with a mop of dirty blond hair — probably Moblit — holding two additional reigns. A smaller, black-haired person sits to the right edge of the wagon with his arms stretched along the back, his one leg folded over the other. You immediately recognize that it's Captain Levi.

At the mouth of the wagon, two other people await your arrival. Petra gives you the quiet catch-up as you walk together: the man with long blonde hair is Eld Jinn, the squad’s second-in-command (she’s quick to divulge that you pull rank, in technicality) and last is the disinterested looking individual with curly hair and an undercut — Oluo Bozado, a skilled asset to the squad who won’t hesitate to brag about his high titan kill count at any chance he gets.

So this was it.

These were the people you spent your life with.

“She doesn’t look injured,” greets Oluo as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Memory loss doesn’t look like anything, Oluo,” Gunther hisses, before perking up at your arrival. “Hey, Lieutenant. How’s it going?”

“Fine, I think,” you greet pleasantly enough, reaching to shake his outstretched hand. “Thanks for letting me come back.”

“The decision was unanimous,” Eld tells you, hopping into the wagon. He spins on a heel to help Petra up first, and she takes her spot across from Captain Levi. Then he holds his hand out to you, smile vacant but there for comradery’s sake.

You accept his help, pulling up to the wagon to sit beside Petra. Gunther rounds the cart to take the right-hand side horse. From your peripheral, you can feel Levi and Hange watching your interactions with the remainder of the team.

“That’s good to hear," you reply. "Petra went through the roll call, but if you wanna introduce yourselves…”

“We heard you remembered Moblit on sight,” Oluo interrupts gruffly, hopping into the wagon once Eld is settled at the head of the group with his hands on the reins. He plops beside Levi, taking up a corner seat.

“Ha, she totally did,” Hange beams with a grin, and you can see Moblit sigh under his breath. “It was kind of crazy to witness in person. She remembered some things with me, too.”

"She did?" Petra asks, awed.

Eld whistles sharply, and the wagon jerks.

You’re leaving.

Sharply you turn to watch the camp grow smaller, its gates closing shut once the Scouts are out of range.

(You’re actually doing this.)

You blink away from it to look ahead. Immediately your eyes connect with Levi's as he stares directly at you.

Your face grows hot at the unspoken energy settling at your boots.

Hange continues, addressing the group. “Our hypothesis will really come into play once we reach the old headquarters. Our objective is to regroup, train with James so she can refamiliarize herself with Commander Erwin’s strategy before the next expedition. Once we're certain she's caught up, then we'll plan to make our way towards the northeast quadrant of Wall Maria. We've yet to explore that part of the walls, and we're certain we can capture new titans for experiments."

"Capturing more?" Petra asks with the smallest of squeaks. "The last two weren't enough?"

"Yes, but that's only part two of the overall plan. Right now, we're focused on rehabilitation James.” They fix their glasses between a pinched thumb and index finger. “The more we spend time with her, the better her memory will get. The better her memory gets, the easier our expeditions will become.”

“As if I want her to remember all the damn dirt she used to have on me,” sours Gunther, laced with a hint of amusement as he rides alongside the cart.

You look over at him, running your tongue against the seam of your lips. “What? Like when I used to kick your ass all the time?”

Gunther gasps, causing Oluo to break out into a surprised laugh.

“Petra told you about that!” Gunther protests.

You shrug a casual shoulder. “Did she?”

You blink back to Levi, who has his head bowed.

(You swear you see the corner of his lip lifted.)

“Oh — c’mon, you didn’t give her any shit about the rest of them? Petra!”

“What?! It felt like pertinent information,” Petra argues back with a giggle. “She just spent a couple of weeks fighting all of the new hopefuls.”

“And how’d that go?” Oluo asks, shifting his weight in his seat to mirror Levi’s casual body language in the cart — he reaches back, draping his arms over the edge of the wagon.

“Yeah, how did you do with combat training, James?” Eld Jinn asks from the front perch.

You shrug. “Well enough, why?”

The blonde snorts, turning his chin over his shoulder. “Because I’d kill to see if you can still go toe-to-toe with the Captain like you used to.”

“Eld,” Petra warns under her breath.

“What?” he squawks.

One by one, you see the remaining pairs of eyes in the cart turn to the conversation to focus on what may come next. Petra’s ginger hair bobs when she leans forward to chastise him.

“That’s inappropriate to request,” Petra argues.

“How’s it inappropriate?” Eld retorts, raising an elbow as he makes the horses turn out onto a main dirt road. “That’s all they did back in the day was fight. It’s been months!”

“We’re not about to haze her.”

“Why not?”

“I could.”

Hange’s eyebrows fly up their forehead, transparent in surprise at the sound of Levi finally speaking up since the wagon’s departure from camp.

You turn your chin to look his way. The captain’s brow raises a tick as his eyes connect with yours.

The wagon goes silent. The only sounds surrounding the Special Ops squad are grunts of horses and the light dips of the wheels against rogue pebbles in the dirt road.

Unable to look away from Levi, a slow smile creeps up your lips. “Is that something we used to do?”

“All the time,” Gunther confirms to the side of the cart while Petra shushes him.

“He’s right,” Levi agrees. “We did.”

Warm spreads through your chest and makes your heart soar. Levi not shutting down Eld’s idea is… good. Great, even. It’s a step in the right direction — right?

Levi said he wouldn’t spell things out for you, but he didn’t discourage others doing it for him. A loophole. You can’t help but widen your smile.

“I’ve spent so much time fighting kids who don’t even know how to hold a proper fist,” you tell him, dropping your hands into your lap to squeeze them together. “Captain: would you be interested, then, to spar when we reach the castle? Be my first real fight.”

A first, even when it’s anything but.

Levi keeps a neutral expression in front of your anticipated comrades.

All eyes shift in tandem from your face to the captain.

“Couldn’t hurt to welcome you properly,” he replies, legs still crossed and arms draped, chest straps on display under his stretched jacket.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Gunther breathes under his breath with a grin. “The Special Ops are back.”

The trek to the castle takes a few hours, but you spend it occupied enough. Between Gunther and Oluo’s constant questions (What was the next group of cadets like? How does memory loss feel? Do you remember when we—?) and Petra’s combative defensiveness to keep you protected from overexertion, the wagon ride back is promising.

Exciting.

Your blood is buzzing with the very real possibility of fighting Levi Ackerman once the group is settled at headquarters.

Anxiety should be hitting you once you reach the familiar sight of the run-down castle, but all you can feel is exhilaration. Anticipation. Like you finally have a worthy opponent who may give little mercy despite your situation.

Hopping off the wagon without the help of Oluo’s hand, you shrug off your Scout jacket and hand it to him to hold instead. He makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, tossing the item of clothing over his shoulder.

Levi hops out without help, light on his feet and graceful as he steps around the wagon to walk with you.

“We doing this right now?” he asks, tone bored, offering a sidelong glance to you.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you sure about sparring so soon?” he asks, lower this time.

(If you didn’t know any better, then you would believe his question hits a note of concerned.)

“What, are you afraid I’m going to beat your ass in front of the squad?”

“No,” he answers, matter of fact. “The opposite.”

Eld whistles low when you turn on a heel, walking backwards to grin at Levi. Levi doesn’t return the same excitement nor does he remove his jacket or cravat, but he doesn’t let you out of his sight.

He stalks you to a clearing right in front of the castle, a lopsided circle patch of dirt and weeds.

“Don’t cream your pants,” Levi crudely quips about your growing smile, his fists rising to rest in a defensive stance at his face. “I don't plan to go easy on you.”

“Oh fuck off,” you reply with equal-parts unprofessionalism, prepping your own fists to your face as your right boot shifting, forming the start of a semi-circle in the dirt. “If you did, I’d be mad at you.”

"Hmm."

Your other boot follows, stalking to find your opening.

Where you can strike.

“You got this, James!” Petra chirps from the sidelines where the Special Operations squad awaits, breath baited and muscles tense.

You do.

You’ll take him and show everyone you’re only just a couple steps behind.

You send a sharp right punch to see where it can land, but Levi juts his chin back at a supernatural speed to avoid it.

He could take a counterstrike, but he holds back.

(He’s lying. He’s going easy on you.)

Petra gasps from the sidelines when you throw a combination of a jab and left hook, but Levi ducks and recovers fast. He throws a fist at your gut, but you manage to slide away before his fist can land. There is a gleam of acknowledgement in his eye as you glide past one another. He throws another, but you lean back and avoid the blow.

It’s a dance choreographed and rehearsed so many times that your brain must have lost count, but your body holds its memory in a vice grip.

In truth, you know — know exactly where he’s going to step next, or the exact direction he favors to dip, and the knowledge delights you. Excites you, even, that this feels so…

Natural.

Like you’ve dissected Levi Ackerman until his movements are your own, mirrored and fluid.

Except you get so caught up in the revelation that he manages to land a sharp jab to your arm. You abruptly dip from the painful hit, teeth grit, but you’re light on your feet and quickly avoid additional attacks. You both strike, arms entangling and locking, to the point where you're mere centimeters from the other's face.

“C’mon, James,” he growls under his breath, and you can’t help but smile.

"Banking on an easy win?" you quip, pushing him away with force and ducking a counterattack.

"This isn't a challenge," he assures, stepping around the invisible circle for a reset.

"You sure?" you ask, catching your breath. Your hands flex before curling back into fists. "Pretty sure I see sweat."

"Little shit." He huffs. “If you say so.”

He strikes, but you counter with precision and manage an uppercut straight to his jaw. Levi’s head snaps back, boots faltering on the ground for a brief second.

You feel it: the whites of your eyes alight with pride.

The hit landed.

You can keep up with Captain Levi.

“I do say so,” you coo belatedly, and Levi rubs his jaw.

“Huh,” he hums. “Lucky shot.”

“Are you giving up that ea— shit!”

If he was holding back earlier, then he isn’t doing so now. Levi comes at you with a flurry of limbs, forcing you to expend all your energy to block his advancements. He is lightning fast, focused on you and you alone, and punches with the intent to land.

To win.

Less cocky than before, you dodge his incoming punches and duck at his swings, holding him back but not enough to land hits of your own.

Shit.

He’s going to win.

If you just keep his arms at bay and—

Wait.

From the corner of your eye, you see it: the smirk on his face when he knows he has you wide open at the legs, and when your mouth opens to gasp, he switches technique and sweeps your legs out from under you.

Suddenly you lose balance and become airborne.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

Right in front of your eyes, the sun turns black.

Your back connects with the ground, and it’s as though you’re transported to another world: one that’s dark, devoid of the warmth of the sun.

Overhead you see Levi smirking down at you, but his Scout uniform is nowhere to be found. He greets you with a billowing white shirt cinched at his torso in a burnt orange vest, hair just as floppy but eyes less vacant.

They’re… warm. Amused.

The lines of his war-worn face are all but gone. His eyes still have dark circles, but they’re less prominent. If you didn’t know any better, then you’d call it a near-youthful glow.

(As much as one can get from being a child of the Underground.)

“Gonna stay down there forever?” he asks you, his translucent hand leaving his side to hold a lifeline for you to take.

All it takes is for your hands to connect for the world to shift, transform, and everything echoes.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

“Up there?” It’s Levi’s voice.

He sits in the dirt beside you, dropping unceremoniously to your side with a grunt of discomfort. You're lying in the dirt, wearing an unassuming maroon long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. You sit up to meet him, stretching your legs out to cross them at the ankles. Without a rhythm, your boots sway.

“You’re worried about going up there?” Levi adds.

“Who isn’t?” you ask him, dropping your chin to your shoulder as you regard him from the side. Scents of damp Earth and leaking cobblestone invade your nostrils. “You can’t really want to spend the rest of your life down here, right?”

"It's a pipe dream, James."

"So? Dream with me for a second."

"You're starting to sound like Isa."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you inquiry. "She wants a chance on the surface as much as the rest of us. Hell, she's been to the staircase. That's further than I've ever gotten."

“They’ll call us freaks,” he bluntly tells you, hooking his skinny wrist between the loop of his thumb and index finger when he drags his knees to his chest. “I’m not exactly keen on going.”

“But we’d eat a lot of amazing food and get a lot of sun — maybe even a tan.” You gasp childishly, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. Levi stays put, immobilized by your words. “Imagine us with sunburn? How crazy would that be?”

“So your dream... is to become a tomato?” he flatly asks.

You grin, holding off on a laugh until you can’t stand it. It starts breathy and low so as not to alert the chatter in the cobblestone house behind you, but it bubbles and breaks the seal to a full-blown giggle.

Levi shakes his head, the floppy hair in his face following a delayed second.

“Fucking ridiculous.”

You grin towards him. “What?”

“You. You’re fucking ridiculous,” he interrupts, but something miraculous happens:

His eyes crinkle. His lips curve to a smile.

Suddenly the dream of the sun doesn’t feel as beautiful when you’re looking at him.

“James.”

Levi Ackerman dissolves at your side, and you feel weightless all over again.

Darkness; you want to reach towards the sunlight, but a billowing cloud rushes towards you and knocks you back to the dirt once again.

You cough at the dust clouds around your head, disoriented and confused, until a nonchalant boot digs into your side.

“Get up.”

“But I was just up,” you mumble in protest.

“No, you weren’t.”

When you blink up, you’re met again with the sight of Levi hovering over you. He still wears the same loose white shirt and vest, legs covered in dark trousers and boots, but he looks… even younger than before.

Whereas he could pass as a young adult in his early twenties just a short few minutes ago, he now looks as youthful as a teenager.

You grit your teeth, counting down the seconds. “Actually, I kinda dig it down here.”

“Seriously—?”

You get an idea. A bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

The question that trails in disbelief earns you enough time to reset your approach to fighting him, your hand quick to wrap around his ankle. Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg so that Ackerman goes airborne.

When his body hits the ground in a nasty thud, you hurry to scramble over him. The bone of your forearm presses into the boy’s neck, causing Levi to grunt with discomfort.

You grin above him as he grimaces.

“Dirty trick,” he spits, but he doesn’t fight it.

In fact, he doesn’t try to escape at all.

You shrug a shoulder, pressing harder onto his windpipe. He sputters, but his face remains just as neutral as ever.

“What’s got you so pissy today?”

“What?” Levi asks from beneath you. His hands curl around your elbow and fist, but he doesn’t push your forearm away just yet.

“You’re moody.” The correction has you laughing gently under your breath, and the sight beneath you? It’s one to behold.

His dark hair frames his face messily, splayed across dirt and gravel. His teeth continue to grind, growl bubbling in his chest, but when he decides to push against your arm, all you do is push harder into his throat. He coughs with a curse.

“I’m — fuck — not.”

“Are too.”

He narrows his eyes. “And I’m letting you win.”

“Are not.”

“Wanna bet?”

Easing up on his windpipe, you crawl off of him and extend a hand to help pull him up to a seated position. Levi begrudgingly takes it, hoisting himself up on the flat of his palm. He angles closer to you, voice low with a feigned warning.

“Thought we didn’t do draws,” he states.

Your forehead drops to his shoulder, lost in a belly laugh when all you want to say is—

“James!”

When you come back to the world, the sun is blocked by a face. Levi barks your name with an intensity that frightens you out of your dreams of the Underground and into the reality of the old headquarters.

Hange hovers over his shoulder. Their glasses are pushed into their hairline where concern etches over every line of their curious face. The uncertain murmurs of the rest of the squad are somewhere behind your head where they observe from a distance.

"Are you alright?" Levi asks with less fervor.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, rolling your neck to look up at Hange.

“Are you? Because you disappeared on us for a second, kid,” Hange tells you, but something squeezes your arm to the point of hurting.

You blink down to the source — Levi white-knuckles a hand around your forearm, holding it steady to the ground. When you meet his eyes once more, he lets go like your body is the temperature of a steaming titan.

"We're not doing that again," he decides for the both of you.

"Wait."

Sitting up on your forearms, the warmth of the sun brings unbridled joy back into your stomach.

"We have to."

"Excuse me?" Levi snaps, eyes narrowing for a split second until it hits — his expression releases built-up tension. "...did you...?"

At first you can only grin, delirious and overjoyed. "...dream of becoming a tomato, one day?"

His face slacks with dumbfounded surprise.

"Is that an inside joke?" Hange whispers in a hiss over his head. "Is tomato code for something?"

"In a way," you reply, but your attention isn't on Hange. You're too busy beaming over at a crouching Levi, who looks at you in way you've never seen before.

He's warworn and childlike, an oxymoron of your own muddled mind, but he knows.

You know he knows, too.

Because you might have finally figured out a plan to — quite literally — knock some sense into you.

Author's Note: Gosh, your theories have been so fun to read! And we only get brief moments with the Scouts, so I sort of took some liberties with their personalities. Your likes, comments, & reblogs have been wonderful! My inbox is open anytime xo

tag list: @lazylizzy3

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #snk #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #wip series #aot #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #amywritesthings #fic: silver underground.#silver underground

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