clothing shelf

Day One Hundred and Fourteen

-For reasons unknown, a woman decided to hurl an insult at her daughter. The daughter crumbled before me, completely shattered by the words her mother chose. I never knew how powerful the phrase “nasty grape” could be until this moment.

-I have found that we are stocking prom-style dresses for young girls, so that when big sister is getting fancied up, they can join in the fun. Few concepts this pure have ever existed.

-I followed a trail of CDs through the store, ranging from G-Eazy in the boys section to Queen and Prince in girls. After this, the trail went cold. This being said, I will pursue this case until my dying day. I will not rest until I have my answers.

-I would like to personally and sincerely thank the parent who left a half-empty juice pouch strewn across a shelf of clothing. Were it not for you, mysterious caretaker, I would never have such a solid grasp on the extent of the evils of man. 

-As tends to happen, another shift in softlines has exposed me to the greatest clothing line ever composed: Dr. Seuss for toddlers. If anyone with the proper capabilities is reading this, I am fully prepared to give four feet of my height to make this my wardrobe.

-What I heard: stampeding zebras coming my way. What I saw: a mother-daughter pair in ill-fitting flip-flops. What I felt: disappointed.

-I found a shirt in the infants department sporting a solar system centered around a pup in a spaceship. To top it all off and cement it as a tangible vision of my soul, the entire thing was glow-in-the-dark. I am once again wishing to lose three-quarters of my height.

-A child discovered the magnificent wonders of paying with cash. Upon realizing that if you hand a cashier money, you will be given back your purchase AND more money, this youngster’s life has been irrevocably changed for the better.

-A man came through my lane, his arms full of joy and happiness. In one, a sweet newborn rested; upon the other, a tattoo reading “4:20.”

anonymous asked:

Shiro and short! Reader oneshot, please?

Yes oh my gosh-

I think I kind of strayed away from the short!reader thing but this turned out cute-

Originally posted by relatablepicsofvoltron

You hummed softly to the music playing from the speaker, organizing one of your many drawers. It wasn’t fast, and it helped you focus as you worked.

You were a healer, and helped with minor injuries the paladins had after fights. You had insisted that they didn’t use the healing chambers every time they got hurt, as it would use power and was unnecessary for anything that wasn’t very serious.

“(Y/N), you’re in here,” you heard someone sigh, before they wrapped you in a hug from behind and buried their face in your neck.

“Shiro? Why are you awake?” Your voice was hushed as you stood, carefully turning to face him. Even though there was at least half a foot of a height difference between you two, you went onto your tip-toes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Shiro replied quietly, and you grabbed his hand before leading him back to his room. “Can you…”

“Yes,” you answered, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. You heard a quiet ‘thank you’, causing you to nod and smile. Ever since you joined, you had noticed that the black paladin had odd sleeping patterns. “You seem to be having these dreams more often, is something wrong?”

“As I regain memories from my time as a prisoner, more things surface that I really would rather not remember,” he explained, although something made you skeptical. He didn’t sound as nervous as he used to. Shaking it off as just him getting used to coming to you for help with sleeping, you silently slipped into his room.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, letting go of his hand and grabbing a spare pair of pajamas and slipping into the bathroom. When you came back in, he was already under the blankets waiting for you.

“Comfy?” He shrugged, and you set your clothes on a shelf before sliding into bed next to him. His arms almost immediately wrapped around you, pulling you close to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, making you smile.

“You thank me every time. You don’t have to,” you replied, your voice hushed as you reached up to run your hand lazily through his hair. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

“Promise to stay with me tonight?” he asked, causing you to nod.

“I promise. Now sleep, Shiro. You need to rest.” It took a little while, but he eventually did fall asleep. You stretched slightly in his arms, placing a kiss on the scar across his nose more snuggling into his chest. “Love you…”

18| Pas De Deux

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Ballet au, Romance, Angst
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 3782

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Minjee yanked her pointe shoe off with everyone watching. Her face was bright red, and at breaking point. Almost the whole class was laughing. Even Eungkwan had a covert smile on his face. You nearly felt sympathetic. Because of Jimin and Taehyung, Minjee had had a pretty hard class. But not really, she totally deserved it. Besides you couldn’t be a saint. She hadn’t cared when it had been you.

She spun around to face you, her eyes venomous. “You’re gonna pay for going and crying to the seniors.” She spat. Her eyes roved around your class, who tried to stifle their giggles. “Shut up!” She snapped, and stormed out the door, her gum-covered pointe shoe swinging dangerously from the ribbons. Seohyun hurried after her.

“Those men are legends.” Yuna said, shaking her head in disbelief. She glanced at you. “Were you in on that?” She sounded curious, not accusing.

“Nope, though it seems like the sort of thing Taehyung might do.”

“Oh my god, (Name)!” Hyeun squealed. “You’re so lucky being on first name basis with them!” She grabbed your hands and jumped up and down excitedly. “And they did all this for you!”

Yuna and you exchanged glances. “Minjee’s pissed.” She said with a grin as the two of you sat down. “Though it might not have been the best idea to ruffle her feathers just before the review.”

“Aw, come on Yuna!” Hyeun exclaimed. “Jimin’s already ruffled her to oblivion. God, he was terrifying.”

Yuna nodded. “He had a very good point though, for all of us.”

Hyeun sobered, her eyes turning regretful as she picked at the knot of her pointe shoe.

You glanced at your phone. “I better get going.” You said, pulling the drawstrings of your shoe bag and standing up. “I have to get to that ballet store before it shuts.”

“Wrystone?” Yuna asked. “What fo - oh, right shoes.”

You nodded, not quite able to keep your irritation off your face.

“Wait a sec.” Hyeun mumbled as she began rummaging around in her dance bag. Eventually she pulled out around 25000 Won and held it out to you.

You frowned. “Hyeun I can’t…”

She shook her head. “Jimin was right. We had no authority to do that to you. And now you have to get a whole new pair of pointe shoes which you shouldn’t have to pay for. 25000 Won won’t pay for all of it, but I’ll try getting some of the others to chip in” Hyeun gave you a shy smile. “We’ll pay you back.”

You hesitantly took the money. “Thank you, Hyeun.” You said sincerely. Maybe Hyeun could be mislead, or made  judgements without thinking them through, but what person hadn’t gone through a stage like that?

She grinned, once again her normal self.

“See you later!”


The bus stop was about a hundred yards down the road from Amour you found out from Mrs Cope, the receptionist who you’d discovered behind a massive stack of fabric receipts and post-it notes. She’d handed you a bus timetable and a map, before writing that you were ‘out of house’ on a little whiteboard.

You looked at the bus timetable as you headed up the stairs. The buses were infrequent. As far as you knew, Amour was in a pretty secluded area, and most students probably didn’t bother going in that often. If you wanted to see Jiwoo as well as get your pointe shoes, you’d have to catch the bus that left in ten minutes and miss lunch.

The dorm room was empty by the time you got there. You were glad, another confrontation with Minjee was not on your agenda. You opened up your trunk, the stench of horrible wet, stained clothes hit you. Those idiots…

Holding your breath you dove an arm in searching for your wallet. After a while you finally found it, typically it was at the bottom.

The sticky stuff dripped from the wallet. It looked like porridge. Quickly you shut the trunk with your elbow and hurried to the bathrooms. You ran your wallet and arm under the tap, feeling nauseated. Jimin’s words had put them so clearly in the wrong that you found yourself even more repulsed than this morning. How could they have done this when they didn’t even know whether you’d 'ruined the review’ or not? Why hadn’t anyone thought about what they were doing?

You took a deep breath. Maybe Jimin had changed that.

You turned off the tap, only just realizing that running water on your credit card and banknotes might not have been the greatest idea.

Then you changed into the clothes Dawon had given you. Black tights, a short blue and black tartan skirt and a long sleeved dark blue v-neck. She’d even managed to find you a pair of knee high boots and dark blue leg warmers. You smiled. Leg warmers seemed to be essential to Dawon. Last of all, she’d included a black jacket. Quickly you pulled off your hairnet and hair ties, slipped your wallet into your pocket and rushed out, knowing you had wasted way too much time.

By the time you got out the double doors and down the steps, it was raining. You sat of in a sprint seeing as the bus was beginning to take off.

“Hey!” You yelled, waving your arms frantically. The bus suddenly swerved onto the side, just a few metres from the bus stop. You hurried up to it, breathing hard as the doors hissed open.The bus driver looked at you grumpily as you fumbled around for money.

You finally handed him some coins. He raised a displeased eyebrow. What? Oh no, there was a glob of oatmeal stuck to one of the coins. “Sorry.” You said, and replaced it with another, the bus driver grunted, and you quickly moved in. The few other people on the bus gave you irritated looks.

You shuffled into one of the back seats, staring out the window at the lashing rain. A tiny smile came to your lips. It felt so normal. Aside from the dressy clothes and oatmeal, you were used to running after the bus. Before you’d gotten your Honda a few months ago, you’d spent many mornings running after the school bus, then guiltily walking back into the house and asking your mom or dad for a lift, or, if you did manage to stop it, clambering on to the amused looks of other students. It was funny to think that only a few months ago, ballet had just been a cherished hobby.

The jolting stop of the bus pulled you out of your thoughts.

You quickly got out, carefully avoiding the flooded gutter. You hurried under the awning of a shop, avoiding the pouring rain, and walked along. Wrystone, it seemed, was nothing more than a few shops and a tiny park, maybe two blocks on either side of houses, it was kind of cute. The ballet shop Dawon had told you about was pretty easy to spot. It had a hanging sign, like the ones outside old English taverns, with a painting of ballet shoes, and the words:

Sung & Sons

Dance Emporium

You went in, a bell tinkling with the door. The shop was warm and well lit. Surprisingly, there were a few people milling around, even though Wrystone seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Maybe people made long journeys to get here, it would certainly be worth it. It was like Dawon’s room, just more orderly and much, much bigger. Practise tutus hung from the ceiling, and clothing racks full of black leotards were scattered about, along with great barrels of packeted tights. A mother was trying to pull two little girls away from the mannequin of a sparkling fairy tutu.

But there weren’t just ballet things. On short shelves were rows and rows of tap shoes and tango shoes and jazz shoes and dance sneakers. Glittering ballroom costumes and unitards filled more clothing racks. On another shelf was a collection of dance class CD’s, music sheets and books.

There was another stand with hooks, on which hung every colour of bandeaus and crocheted hairnets and bobby pins known to man. At the very back of the shop was the biggest collection of pointe shoes you’d ever seen. The entire back wall was concealed by floor to ceiling shelves, each one stacked high with pointe shoes.

“Freed of London?” Came a voice from behind. You spun around.

A man with greying red hair and a goatee beaming down at you. He had old, circular glasses, and he wore a grey and red pinstriped waistcoat over his shirt. A badge pinned to it said:

Mister Sung, owner

You frowned, confused for a second, then realised what he meant. “Oh, yes.” You said nodding. “I use, Freed pointe shoes.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, pensive. “I thought as much. I can always tell, you see. You have the calves for it, you and I am guessing your feet are not as wide as some. You’re from Force de la Beauté?”

You smiled, narrowing your eyes. “How did you know?”

“Ah!” He clapped his hands together. “Your eyes, my dear, your eyes!” He chuckled at your bemusement. “You look terribly tired, you know. I am supposing you’re in need of something specific?”

You nodded. “Pointe shoes, actually.”

“Splendid!” He clapped his hands again and began leading you through the store. You marvelled at a beautiful collection of tiaras sitting in a glass case you passed. “Now, I’m sure your past the studio brand, yes?”

“Yes.” You said. You’d only been en pointe for three years, and you knew very little about the different brands of shoes. However you did know that Freed of London had studio shoes, for beginner pointe dancers, and then another range for the more experience dancers.

“Classic Pro.” You told him.

“Aha.” He said. “A nice design, you know. Not for the fainthearted, mind. They don’t have a beginner’s support.” You reached the back shelves. A two metre barre was secured to the ground right by it, and a bench. Mister Sung climbed up one of the shelf ladders with surprising agility. You sat down on the bench and began taking your leg warmers and boots off. “I’m curious Miss?”

“(Surname)” You supplied.

“Miss (Surname), as to why you need another pair of pointe shoes so soon. You see, we have been delivering three pairs of pointe shoes for every Amourian danseuse each month since Jinho signed a contract with us all those years ago. You must be a very fierce dancer to warrant a fourth pair in such a short amount of time?”

“I arrived late.” You told him as he shifted through the many packets of pointe shoes. “My old pointes were a few months old.”

“They died, then?” He spoke as if they were relatives, not just shoes.

“Yes.” You said. If he liked pointe shoes that much, then getting into what actually happened didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Ah, the time we cobblers take to make them.” He grumbled fondly. “Only to have you stamp them out in a single performance. Now, what are your measurements?”

You told him the measurements you had memorized after your first fitting. He eventually came down with a pair, and you slipped them on. Without any ribbons, they were loose, but using the barre you were able to follow Mister Sung’s instructions. “Every pair is slightly different, Miss (Surname).” He said, kneeling down to check the shank length. “And so every shoe must be tested. All these silly people buying pointes on the internet. Now please climb up to pointe.”

One foot at a time, you stood up on your platforms. You gritted your teeth against the added pressure. Until the toe box had moulded to your own toes, it was going to hurt more than usual. The fact that you weren’t wearing gel pads probably made it worse. “A nice arc there, Miss (Surname).” He said approvingly while gently squeezing the toe box.

The image of Taehyung twisting Minjee’s foot this way and that came into your head, and you tried not to giggle. How Minjee possibly thought that Taehyung had any knowledge of pointe shoes you did not know.

“Well, these seem to fit you perfectly well, Miss (Surname).” Mister Sung stood back up, and you went back down to flat. “I take it you’ll be needing ribbons and such?”

“Yes please.” You said, putting your boots back on.

He grabbed the necessary packets and took them to the counter. As he put your new shoes back in their plastic and tallied up the total, you looked at the beautiful jewellery boxes next to the till. Each one had a different ballerina on it. One was wearing a deep blue tutu, her arms in an oval above her head, her leg out behind in an attitude. You ran a gentle fingertip down her figure. That would be you tomorrow.

“Beautiful little pieces, aren’t they?” Mister Sung asked.

You nodded, still staring at the tiny dancer. Tomorrow. You gulped and snapped out of it, reaching into your wallet for your credit card. You handed it to him.

“Thank you.” You said as he gave you the plasticbag.

“It was good to meet you, Miss (Surname)” He gave a little bow.

You smiled and bowed back. “And you too.”

You left the warm store, and began walking again, digging the map out of your pocket. Miss Cope had circled the next bus stop you’d have to go to, to get to the hospital.

You got there with ten minutes to spare, and ducked into a nearby cafe to get a takeaway chocolate. You didn’t trust yourself to do nothing. You couldn’t have a nervous breakdown in the middle of the street.

Having waited for your chocolate you got out just in time for the bus, and managed to pay without any oatmeal. The hot creamy chocolate, managed to calm you the rest of the way.

The hospital, Seoul Hospital, was a fancy modern building, ten storeys high. You hopped out of the bus, with excitement. You were finally going to see Jiwoo! You hurried through the automatic doors and away from the rain.

Immediately you were enveloped in the white cleanliness and quietness. Doctors and nurses walked about purposefully, walking past patients as if they didn’t exist. If any of the few people in the main reception spoke, it was in hushed tones.

The receptionist registered you and told you where to go. The orthopaedics ward was on the fourth floor. You took the elevator up. It was a great relief from Amour’s endless stairs.

The fourth floor was almost identical to the bottom, and you quickly navigated your way through a maze of shiny white corridors. Jiwoo’s was the second to last on the right. You knocked gently, though your excitement was mounting.


You pushed open the door. “Oh my God, (Name)!” Jiwoo sat propped up with pillows on a bed in the centre of the small, generic hospital room. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and there were bags under her eyes, but she grinned widely.

You quickly shut the door behind you, trying not to squeal. “How are you?” You asked as she pulled you into a one sided hug. You pulled back quickly, not wanting to hurt her. Her left arm was in a cuff and collar, but she was still smiling.

“I’ll do. How are you?” She grabbed your hand. “You have to tell me everything that’s happened since I left!”

“But you’re the patient.” You began, but she shook her head.

“My days have consisted of painkillers, get well cards and hospital food. Not that intersting. Tell me how the review preparations are going! What are the costumes like? How’s your solo? Have you spied on Master Kang’s class yet? Get me up to date!”

You laughed. “Fine, fine…”

And so you began. You described the costumes to her, right down to the smallest detail, and how you’d been absolutely terrible dancing in your tutu, and how Master Kang’s class was apparently doing a pas de deux in the middle of their piece. You told her how Madame Choi had asked Mister Ghim to alter the ending to make the music more dramatic.

That was all you could say without telling her about everything that had happened with Minjee. You didn’t want to worry her. You could see how tired she was. She couldn’t sit right up for long, and sometimes the slightest wrong movement made her gasp. However she knew something was up when you fucked up and accidentally told her about Mister Sung, the extremely enthusiastic pointe shoe seller.

“Wait! You’re planning to break in a new pair of pointe shoes by tomorrow?” She scrunched her face. “Why?”

You sighed, tracing the seam of your tights. “Minjee and I had a bit of a fall out.”

She grinned. “Because you were best buds before.”

“Totally…well, you know how me and Eungkwan were doing the lift as well?” She nodded. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I bashed my head, and so I got a concussion.” You paused, looking at her.

She gave you a pained look. “I asked if you were okay. You should have told me, I’ve been wondering about that.”

You shrugged. “You were looking much words. I didn’t feel it at the time anyway.” She gave you a disapproving look, but nodded for you to go on.

And so you told her everything, from the awful tech class the next day to Jimin taking you to Doctor Hill. She laughed when you told her about the posters, but you’d been vague about Jimin and your’s argument. You just said that Jimin had been patronizing, and that you’d gone and messed around with the choreography to prove him wrong. She scowled when you told her about Minjee and everyone turning against you. You told her all your frustrations, your sadness this morning, and your trunk.

Jiwoo, who always saw the best in people, had scowled. “Minjee and her little group should be thrown out onto the street.”

You also told her what Jimin had said, though you couldn’t say it quite so elegantly, and then what Taehyung had done.

She laughed until the jiggling of her shoulder got too much. “I should send them a thank you card.”

The two of you sat in silence for a minute or two, Jiwoo digesting all that you’d told her.

“How’s Kwangsik?” She asked.


She shook her head sadly. “Doesn’t he know it wasn’t his fault?”

“I tried to tell him.” You said. “He danced with Yuna today, when Jimin put Dongwon with Jongsoo, and I think Jimin talked to him.” You sighed. “He doesn’t think you’ll forgive him and we haven’t been told much about your condition.”

Jiwoo looked down unhappily. “The surgery went fine. I mean, it was scary beforehand, but they’ve managed to get it all back in the right place, it’s just (Name).” She looked at you, her eyes filled with tears. “They’re saying it might never join back together correctly.” She swallowed. “I can’t dance with a messed up shoulder, (Name). I might not be able to dance again.”

“Oh Jiwoo.” You put your arms carefully around her.

Not being able to dance. Never dance again…

She cried into your shoulder. You couldn’t think of any words of comfort, only that it wasn’t for certain, and you knew that wouldn’t help.

The two of you stayed like that for a long time.

“Jimin was here earlier.” She said eventually, wiping her cheek with the back of her good hand.

You pulled back. “Really?”

She nodded. “I didn’t tell him, about the – ” She took a breath. “The possibilities, but he got injured as well when he was in first year. He injured his leg, and had to take three months off.”

“And yet he’s still at the top.” You murmured.

“I know, right? He said that he was really depressed at the beginning, but he said that he realized that just because he couldn’t do ballet didn’t mean he couldn’t still learn it.” Jiwoo seemed to perk up a little.

“He said that I should watch as much ballet as possible, see how the professionals do it and he said that he used to torture himself through hours of theory and choreography. Jimin said it gave him time to think about why he did ballet. ” She gave a small smile. “I know it’s not…smart to – to get my hopes up…but I want to do those things. I should make the most of all this, you know?”

“I understand.” You said.

There was an attentive knock on the door, and a nurse came in. “Visiting times are over, Hun.” She gave you a polite smile, and shut the door again.

“Right, I’ll tell you all about the review as soon as I can.”

She smiled. “Could you tell Kwangsik I said 'hi’? And for him not to worry.”

You pulled your boots back on. “Of course.”

You gave Jiwoo one last hug. “And don’t you worry about anything, 'kay?”

She grinned. “Just so long as you have Taehyung and Jimin to ward off Minjee…(Name)?”

You turned at the door.

“Thanks.” She said.

You smiled and left.

Your mind was full of thoughts as you went back down the way you came. Poor Jiwoo. You could only imagine the idea of never being able to dance. It was horrifying. But Jiwoo was strong and young. That might give her more of a chance?

You went out into the freezing cold. The rain lashed at you, seeping right through your jacket. You pulled the collar up around your neck, running along the pavement to the bus sign.

Arriving at the bus stop you looked at the timetable, trying to read past the rain. Twenty minutes. Great. You pulled your jacket even tighter, trying to shelter as much of your face as possible. Through your thin tights, your legs were absolute frozen.

You were glad Jimin had given Jiwoo had something to think about. Even if she couldn’t dance, there were so many positions in ballet companies and schools…

“(Name)!” You spun around, recognizing the voice in an instant. A sleek black Porsche had pulled into the bus stop. Jimin leaned out of the window, rain already beginning to drip from his brown hair. His eyes were squinted so he could see through the downpour. “Get in, I’ll give you a ride!”

All I Ask

S.Coups Scenario #2 (REQUEST)

Genre/s: Angst, Drama, Romance

Warning/s: Cussing

A/N: So I tried my best to portray someone being emotionally distant and maybe I didn’t do a very good job at it… I still hope you like it though! I knew this was like a long time ago request but well… Inspiration is hard to find I swear! And this story took a lot out of me I had to put myself in the situation and now it hurts T^T Cheollie I love you T^T So enjoy!

It started out as a simple conversation over dinner. How it had turned into a full blown argument was beyond me.

We were just talking about each other’s day, but when he had asked whether I had gotten a call from my mother or my sister, I had clammed up.

“You know it’ll make you feel better if you open up about it right? You can trust me.” He had leaned into the table, reaching out a hand to grasp mine but I had pulled my hand away before he could.

He knew I didn’t like talking about it. He knew why but he pushed and I had lashed out in frustration.

“Stop it Seungcheol, it doesn’t even involve you so just butt out okay?” I hissed, pushing my my chair back, the legs screeching against the wooden floor.

I had lost my appetite and walked out, heading towards our bedroom, he followed quickly, dinner abandoned at the table.

This had been going on for months now, this argument of ours. I had told him the basics of my family situation, never going in depth as I did not want to delve into that pit of problems. It frustrated him that I never opened up about it, claiming that bottling it up was bad for me, as if I didn’t know. In my defense, I did not want to burden him with my problems. I could handle them myself.

But he never seemed to get that.

In the year that we’ve been together though, it had never escalated to this extent.

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Pinky Promise - Friends

As much as you want to stay out of the whole mess between Student Council and Delinquent Club, you find yourself right smack dab in the middle of it all. It was so fucking stupid.

Part 1
Read Jaehyun’s part here

PART 2 OF. this double j shit. the people spoke and @cremethorns and i have come to deliver. hopefully you like it but remember say no to double j. enjoy ^^

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Road trip in New Zealand with my super awesome 2 years old Mia
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While writing it, I’m sitting in a van, looking at a beautiful beach covered with white stones, there’s a little water paddle where seagulls take a bath and I drink coffee. I could go out, but I have so many sandflies bites (popular in this area), that I am a bit scared. I took a few pictures already while jumping to keep them away. Mia is asleep and I finally have a moment to write.

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Ticking Time Bomb Ch.5

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warning: Swearing, Smut, fighting

** Russian Terms
Malyutka (Little One)
Moya lyubov’ (My Love)
Grubyy (Rude)
Beda (Trouble)


Steve and Reader aren’t close to being the same, she’s a ticking time bomb with an attitude to match her wild hair. A spy and a history with Nat, she isn’t open to many if anyone.  But going under cover with Mr. America could change everything for her, who knows what lies under all that anger, hostility, cold attitude and brightly colored hair.

Originally posted by james-nat

“Nat and Buck should be back any minute, I have to go into the company and fill Mark in on what happened with you.” Steve walks into the living room where he had set you up including a pair of his sweatpants over your shorts, pillows, and blankets with the remote to the TV. He’s wearing light wash jeans and a black T-shirt with his black leather jacket, he looks God like in something so simple. If anything was going to make you have an aneurysm it was going to be him.

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It’s Not What You Think (Bucky Barnes x reader) Part 2

Originally posted by stuckybarnesrogers

A/N: Hi friends! This part was originally going to be super long but I cut it in half so it seems a bit short but the next part will be up in the next two (maybe sooner?) days! I hope you all enjoy!! Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, slight ptsd

Word Count: 1,818

Part 1

Prompt: Bucky finds out the reader’s boyfriend has become physically and emotionally abusive.

You were slowly stirred out of sleep from a soft voice echoing throughout the room. Slightly opening your one eye that was not mushed into your soft pillow, you glanced about the room; your room. In a split second of fear you thought it was your room back at the apartment. And that maybe yesterday never happened. But when your eyes readjusted you realized it was your room at the Avengers Tower.

To prop yourself up, you moved your arm from underneath you so your elbow held your weight and you yawned, looking about the room once again. Your room was small, yet spacious. The bed was tucked away in the corner with a TV, a full bathroom and a small living area where a couch and a coffee table sat. When your eyes reached the small living area you say blankets and pillows piled high on the floor and Bucky sitting on the couch.

Your heart fell when you realized the room was practically empty. The closet didn’t hold any of your clothes and the shelf that used to hold all your favorite dvds was empty. Dust was starting to settle where all your pictures and frames used to sit and there was little to no decoration on the walls. It almost felt like it was a hotel room; because all of your things were with him.

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• OH…TOO BIG?! •
I’m REALLY proud & motivated by the 30lbs. progress I’ve made this year…but I swear sometimes I forget I’ve lost it!!! 🙄😣😩
I’ve been dying for a pair of HIGH waisted jeans! I’m tall & my waist sits higher up on my torso, so finding “high waisted” jeans that actually hit my waist is RARE! One of my sorority sisters told me to try Old Navy & what would you know…I fell in love! 😍 Only problem…I was so skeptical about the fit that I refused to try on my “true size.” Meaning…instead of grabbing the Size 16s that I’ve worked my way into…I grabbed 20s & worked my way down! 🤔👀
So yes…even people who have made progress get stuck in a place of denial! It’s always exciting to CELEBRATE progress…but sometimes it can be damn near impossible to ACCEPT your progress! Being in the fitting room today was so bittersweet! It was great fitting into the smallest pair of jeans I grabbed off the shelf…but almost heartbreaking that I had doubt in not only my progress but my ability to comfortably and confidently fit into a CLOTHING item! Like something so simple! We’ve got to stop beating ourselves up for or for NOT fitting into what we pull off a shelf! 🙄
CLOTHES ARE SUPPOSED TO FIT OUR BODIES! Our bodies are NOT supposed to be shrunk, starved, or pressured into fitting into what’s on the rack 🙅🏾

anonymous asked:

hi lovely admins <3. can i request an extra fluffy scenario about shopping for baby clothes with yoongi? there’s a slight possibility that i’m sending this after listening to miss right ;D.

Awww this request is way too cute! (I can’t handle writing things involving babies; they’re just too cute >_<) I hope you enjoy it!~

- Devi  (*≧∀≦*)

shopping for baby clothes

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Mingyu: Thief

Summary: One of the workers at the grocery store keeps following you around and keeping an eye on you as if he’s afraid you’re going to pocket some carrots.

-Admin Syrup

You exhaled a sigh as you scanned over the fifty-items-long list of groceries that your roommate, Kwon Soonyoung, had tasked you to buy while he was sick in bed with a fever. The list had started with necessities like tomatoes and dish-washing liquid, but the second you had handed it over to Soonyoung with a, “What else should I get?” he had added about forty five items of his own.

“Shrimp crackers?” you had deadpanned, voice tinged with disbelief. “After you bought those two bags literally three days ago?”

“I like to stock up,” had been his defense, whining as he reached over to turn the oscillating fan in his room up to ‘medium.’

You had skimmed over the newly added items on the list with your jaw setting in irritation. “2 packs of yogurt drinks? Slippers? A yo-yo?”

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“Jealousy”(V imagine)

I wanted to write this even though I’m not the jealous type, apparently, i like writing this kind of scenarios.

-Admin Strawberry IceCream


Originally posted by jitamin

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You just wanted some quiet time while you were shopping with your boyfriend without some girls running for Taehyung but you never get what you hope.

Word count: 895

It’s been a while since you and Taehyung went out together in public and you just wanted a simple walk to the mall to see what was new in fashion and eventually checking out some bookstores. Even though you respected his need for privacy, sometimes it was exhausting to lay around the house and watch movies or play video games together. You felt the need to walk around the city’s streets and visit the new stores that opened recently.

Before he left the house, he made sure to be as masked as possible to avoid attracting too much attention. He had his black mask on along with a beanie and his outfit consisted of black skinny jeans and an oversized hoodie. You wanted to match your boyfriend and dressed in almost the same clothes only different colors.

As you were walking around the mall, holding his hand, you noticed a group of girls looking in your direction and giggling and you were sure that Taehyung’s cover was blown but, fortunately for him, he was fine with it. You, on the other hand, were a little sad because you heard them making fun of your height. It wasn’t your fault that you were 5ft tall and weren’t as curvy as them. You had to admit that they were gorgeous with their long hair and long skinny legs.

Taehyung noticed the way you let your head down, looking at your red converse with a slight frown on your face and he squeezed your hand a little to catch your attention. “What happened? You don’t like this mall?” he asked you, slowing down.

You shook your head and gave him a small smile as you replied “No, i like it. I was just thinking about something. Don’t worry about it. Where should we go first? I saw something last week in one of those stores and i want to know if you’d like it” you said, dragging his hand over to the store.

The warm air throughout the complex was almost suffocating and he had to take off his mask to breathe properly, taking a deep breath. As you were looking through the shelves full of clothes and accessories, you noticed from the corner of your eye the group of fangirls and you sighed, annoyed as you expected them to scream in the next couple of seconds as soon as they’ll him.

And there they went, rushing over to you to assault Taehyung in the middle of the store. You flinched at the sounds they were making and hid behind your boyfriend, tugging at his shirt. There was no time to walk away as they were already surrounding him, asking all kinds of questions while taking out their phones to take pictures of him.

“Wow, Tae-oppa, you are much handsome in person.” the first one said, smiling sweetly in front of him.

“Thank you and no, i’m not that handsome.” he replied as he became shy all of sudden, giving her a warm smile.

“No, really. I really love your smile.” another one said and you could feel your blood boil at the sight of him responding to their flirting. Is he that dense or is he doing it on purpose?

You cleared your voice loudly and tugged harder at his wrist, trying to bring him back to the reality where he had a girlfriend. He noticed the frown on your face and tried to get rid of the annoying girls as you just walked away, not wanting to witness it any longer, looking through the pile of clothes on some random shelf, pouting.

After what seemed like forever, he came to your side and tried to talk to you but you wouldn’t answer him and look away from his gaze whenever he tried to look at you.

“Jagi, stop. What’s wrong?” he finally asked, grabbing your hand and spinning you around to face him.

“Nothing.” you said, avoiding his gaze.

“There is definitely something. You won’t even look me in the eyes.” he said as he tried to step in front of you to catch your attention but you wouldn’t break.

“Let me go, i said it’s nothing.” you tried to step away from him but he only held you tighter.

“If this is about those girls-” he was cut off by your impatience.

“I’m sorry i ruined your chance with those girls over there.” you hissed at him.

“What? What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

“Oh, please. You know what i’m talking about. ‘Tae-oppa, you’re so handsome’” you imitated them in a mocking manner and he just laughed at you. “What’s so funny?” you growled at his reaction.

“Pabo.” he said, shaking his head with a grin on his face. “Are you jealous?” he asked, bringing you closer to his body, wrapping his arms around your waist as you struggled to get away.

“No, i’m not.” you said, pouting.

“Yeah, you are. You are so cute. You know i only love you and i wouldn’t dare cheat on you. You look better than those girls and i’m so lucky to have you in my life. I love you.” he said, kissing your pout away. You let out a loud sigh and relaxed your body into his embrace, a smile forming on your face.

“I love you too.” you whispered as you hugged him tight.  

Naked Sunday.

Part 2

Dancing around your bathroom in the nude after a hot shower was not an unusual occurrence in your apartment. Having lived alone for 2 years you often spent most of your home life naked or, at most, in your underwear. That is however, when you didn’t have company. You normally reserved Sundays for naked dancing and binge watching Netflix. After all Saturday nights was when all the fun was had.

Towel wrapped around your head you danced out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. Swinging open the door to the kitchen you began to hunt for something to eat. The door swung open and you screamed as you were greeted with a handsome stranger pointing a gun at you and another group of people staring from the hallway.

“Shhh!” He pressed his finger to his lips and widened his eyes at the clothing, or lack of it, you were wearing. You then realised you were totally and completely naked. You grabbed a dish cloth off of the shelf and covered as much of yourself as you could with it.

“What are you doing in my house?” You whispered through your teeth, eyes piercing into him, face burning red.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He questioned.

“What! Yes that’s me! Who are you? What the hell is going on?” He grabs your arm and thrusts you behind him “DUDE!” you reach up and slap his face.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner FBI. Now if you don’t mind please keep your voice down.” He glared at you then he snapped his head forward. “We’re clear, target is here, but you may need to give us a minute, she needs to get dressed.”

“Who are you talking to? Also what do you mean target? And what does SSA mean? FBI? WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?” he stood watching as you bombarded him with questions, moving the cloth to cover yourself up as you walked toward your bedroom. You slammed the door shut behind you so he didn’t come in.

“And I’m sorry to catch you off guard but we don’t tend to give people warnings in case they run. We did try to call you but there was no answer.” He spoke through the door

“Well I was in the shower.” You said bluntly throwing on a sweatshirt “Why are you here anyway? Am I being arrested?” you swung open the door. Hair in a bun, jeans, and a sweatshirt; it wasn’t attractive but you were mad. “Lead the way.” You said popping your hip and crossing your arms.

“Miss Y/L/N. I am very sorry but I’m here for your protection and you need to be honest and front with me.” He ushered you forward towards your front door. As you walked out you were greeted with 3 black SUVs and a group of police officers and FBI agents.

“We had a wardrobe malfunction.” You shot him a glare. “You still haven’t answered my question. What the hell is going on?” They all stood around you as you waited for someone to speak.

“You work at Penbrooke elementary yes?” The older man said.

“Yeah? Why?”

“There has been a string of murders of local school teachers matching your description and we believe you to be the next target.” The blonde looked concerned.

“Oh. Am I in danger? Can I stay at my house or do I have to go somewhere else?”

“You’ll have to stay in a safe house in afraid.” Aaron smiled at you.

“Does that mean there won’t be anymore bursting I’m whilst I’m naked?” You persed your lips and looked at Aaron. He gave a small chuckle and opened the door for you “Wait? Can’t I get anything from my house?”

“You have 5 minutes. Morgan can you escort her please?” The buff man nodded and followed you up the steps to your apartment. Grabbing everything you needed including your knife.

They didn’t realise yet. But you suspected they would soon know. You weren’t in danger, because you were the one who was killing the others. They were ‘your competition’ as you liked to put it. So it was only fair that you were the one on top finally. You were a twin, and your sister always came out on top, in fights and life in general. So you had to make sure you were the only one.

“Ok. I’m ready. How far away is the safe house? It’s just I have to go to work and I don’t want to be late.” You flashed him a smile and headed towards the door. This was going to be fun.

The Ballerina (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and Steve are on the run, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and in a last attempt to ditch the people trailing them, they crash through a large stained glass window and right into a theater. Reader is a dancer at the theater and has no idea what’s going on when two super-soldiers land in the middle of her stage during a show. (Sorry this is a really shit summary)

Warnings: smashing stuff? idk is that even a warning? swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of sibling in the military (not sure if that’s a warning either) things get cute

Part 1  -  Part 2  -  Part 3

Tags: @princeofsassgard

Previously: BUCKY POV: Steve was right. I didn’t know if we’d get another chance to escape. I couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe.  My gaze shifted from Steve back to the ballerina. She was still wearing her light blue dress. Her hair was messy and her leg was bleeding, something I hadn’t noticed before. Despite all that had happened, she didn’t seem to be afraid of me. I held out my hand to her. Steve’s groan of frustration from behind me was audible. “You’re hurt. Can I at least take you home?”

(Pic is not mine)

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I’m soo happy to post new part today!! :D I just am so happy haha <3
This is loves…
Part 7 “Bad boy isn’t my type” :)) Enjoy <3

You walked up to Lucy with a huge smile on your face.
“Is it Neymar?” Lucy winks at you
“Maaybe…….Yees” you laughed biting your lip
“Let’s go to our favorite coffe place and you’ll tell me everything” Lucy smiled


“And…He asked me on a date” you smiled eating your cheese cake
“What?! Noo way” Lucy almost spit out her milkshake
“Yeaah..And I’m sooo happy” you laughed feeling like you’re blushing
“Awww I’m so happy for you Y/N” Lucy said smiling
“And I never asked you this..But you like Neymar right?” she asked looking at you..You thought a little about it..
“I do..I like him” you smiled biting your lip..
Then someone puts their hand on your shoulder you turn around and it was the ex girlfriend of Neymar.
“I don’t you or anything..But..I can tell you this..Don’t thrust him..” she said being serious,and she walked out because her friends called her.

Lucy looked at you.
“Listen..That was freaking weird” she laughed
“Now you need to think how happy you are” she puts her hand on yours
“Okay..I will” you smiled taking a sip of your milkshake too.

Then Lucy’s ex camed 
“Please talk to me” he said
Lucy looked at you
“Go girl!” you smiled
And she smiled 
“I’ll call you later so you can tell me all about your date” she smiled and went somewhere with her ex/boyfriend again.


You camed home and looked at the clock..You still had plenty of time till the date..
First you went to the kitchen and ate something,then went to take a shower..
After that you just layed in bed and fall asleep.

When you woke up,you only had a hour till the date.
“Oh shit” you said coming inside your closet looking around what do you have to wear.
You found black shorts and put them on.You just had a bra and shorts on.
You couldn’t find any shirt that you like.Then you went to the bathroom and put on your makeup,then camed back inside of your closet again.

You only had about 15 minutes even less.
“Oh wow” you hear a male voice behind you,you turn around and Neymar was staring at you,you at him.
He looked down a little,and you remember you don’t have a shirt on.
You quickly grab a random shirt and throw it on his head
“You’ll mess up my hair!!” he yelled
“Just wait by the bed,don’t come in!” you yelled
“What? Are you shy?” Neymar said putting his hands on your waist..Chills run down your body.
“Maybe I am” you laughed
“Don’t be” he said,you felt his breath on your skin.

Seconds later he pressed his lips on your neck..Neymar’s hands wrapped around your waist,and hold you tight.
He kissed you again..You turn around towards him and press your lips on his.
Neymar started to walk towwards you and you hit your back on your shelf with clothes..You looked up at Neymar and he smiled,putting his hands on left and right side,so you can’t excape.
He pressed his lip harder on yours..You felt like he wanted more so did you wanted him.

You took off his white shirt off,he bit his lip smiling at you.
You smiled too and pull him closer to you..
His hands wrapped your waist again,he kissed you with tounge.Your hands slip down on his ass.
He laughed a little and continued to kiss you.

Neymar carried you to your bed and gently puts you down coming on top you.
You gave him “I’m a little scared” look..He puts his mouth by your ear.
“Don’t worry,just relax” he wispers and kisses your neck slowly making you moan a little.
He took off your shorts,then you camed on top of him.
Your hands run down his abs and unbotton his pants.
“You know this is our first date” he laughed looking at you
“Yeah..i know” you laughed looking at him
He sits up with you still sitting in his lap.Neymar’s face was so close to yours.
“And It’s going amazing” he smiled and his hands go behind your back and unclasp your bra..You looked at him and he looked at you.He took it off and twist you over and his was on top of you again.

“Just go slow” you said looking at him
“I will” he smiled and puts your hands in his.

You were in pain at the begging,but you also enjoyed it.
Then you remeber you just have lost your virginity to a person hat you don’t even love.


You place your head on his chest.
“I could tell it’s your first time isn’t it?” he asked kissing your head
“Yes……” you felt awkward
“It’s okay” he smiled and kissed your head again.
You looked up at Neymar.He kisses you on the lips again,and again.
And again comes on top off you.


Your phone starts to ring.You guys are late for school.
“NEYMAR GET UP!” you yelled and he woke up in a shock
“We’re late come on!” you said standing up..
“No….” Neymar closes his eyes
“Get up!” you yelled
“Fine,fine!” he said standing up.

After you both got dressed up,neymar pushes you against your door.
“We’re not leaving until I do this” he smiled and cupped your face and kissing you a few times.


Neymar and you camed to school.Everyone was staring at you together.
“Neymar did you had sex?” his friends smiled
“Can I have her now?” he added few seconds later
“Shut up and you can’t” Neymar rolled his eyes
“Whoaah hold up there…We had a deal” the guys said
“That was a joke…And leave” Neymar said holding your hand
“Wait you guys are really really together?” he asked
“No-” you started
“Yeah we are..I don’t care what you think of it” Neymar cut you off and started to get angry at the friend.
“Fuck you Neymar” he said and Neymar started to walk towards him but you pull him back
“Just calm down” you said grabbing his face looking at him
Neymar smiled and kissed you
“I’m all better now” he hugs you

Well that’s it for this part!! Hope you enjoyed it :* Love you all <3
~Tell me what you think of the part~ ;) <3 

[Part 2/2] Last Summer [Revance x Reader]

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1:

His P.o.V.:

Chapter 2: You are here.

Author’s Note: Song used is Avril Lavigne’s My Happy Ending with a hint of The Veronica’s Everything I’m Not. I’m happy with Kota, Takashi, and Nagito’s, but I’m still debating on Kyohei and Iori’s parts. If you have ideas for a rewrite, feel free to send them my way! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! :)


“What the hell.”

His voice makes you jump and you quickly whirl around, only to come face-to-face with his withering glare. Your automatic reflex is to retract, but you know that if you don’t reach out, he’ll leave.

“W-Wait, it’s not what you think…!”

“This entire time…I can’t believe you,” he turns to leave, but you latch onto his arm in an attempt to stop him.

“Don’t leave! Please…” you beg, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, but he pulls his arm out of your grasp and exits the door, leaving you to wonder whether what just happened really did happen.

Iori Enjo

We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it.

When did things get this way? You honestly couldn’t remember anymore, and it wasn’t like you had been trying to since it all started. But having finally been confronted by Iori, it was a question that he, not you, had called to the forefront.

“When did the love run out…” you repeat his question musingly, crossing your arms and shrugging, your gaze anywhere but on him, “Who knows? But we can both say that it isn’t there anymore, right?”

He was silent for a moment and was about to speak again, but you intervene.

“Perfect couple…ha, we even fooled ourselves for some time, didn’t we?” you laugh mirthlessly. You looked so broken, and Iori wanted nothing more than to hug you. But if he did…you might shatter. So he let you continue venting instead. He knew that you needed to. And he wanted to hear your thoughts. He wanted you to revert back to the girl who he fell in love with. The girl who opened up to him, and the girl who loved him.

“I really believed that we would be together forever…” you whisper, and Iori just knows that this won’t end the way he wants it to. Once upon a time, he used to believe the same thing as you did, but he knew that what could have been would no longer be, because of him.

“…But I can’t pretend anymore, Iori,” you sound like you’re about to cry, but there are no tears; there are no emotions. “Can we just end this, end us? Please?”


“You came here wanting to save us…but…I see no point in trying to bring back something that’s already gone,” you finally look him in the eye, and he knows that there’s nothing left for him to say. He can’t bring you back anymore. You’d already moved on. “Let’s just break up for real this time, okay?”

Nagito Aoshima

I’m watching all of the memories so close to me just fade away.

You were so immersed in selecting specific cloth from the shelf that you failed to notice the approaching male.


You jump slightly at the sudden proximity, but otherwise remain composed.

“What is it, Nagi?” you turn around and face him with ease, and everything would have looked normal between the two of you, except it wasn’t. It was far from what you two used to be.

Nagito felt a tug in his stomach, the details of his affair surfacing to the front of his mind. Every time he looked at you, he could only remember what he did to hurt you, but your cool gaze suggested that you remembered nothing of it. And not just that. With the lost memories of the affair also came the lost memories of the couple you both once were.

And that’s what killed him the most.

“I was thinking,” he started in as cheerful of a voice as he could muster, “After we finish this project, we could go out for ice cream?”

Your first date. This was how he had first asked you out. He was hoping this would spark something inside of you, but clearly, it didn’t.

“We’ll see. You know how busy Kyohei keeps us. I doubt we’ll have time,” you respond before quickly changing the subject. “What do you think of this fabric? It’s laced but the silk inside is comfortable enough for the bride to wear the whole day.”

“Oh?” he tries to muster as genuine a smile as he can. “Is that the fabric you’d want to wear at your wedding, [First]?”



“Maybe something else then…” you turn your back to him to dig through the material again. He watches you discard the cloth you had just shown him and feels his heart take a plunge.

He fondly remembers when he confessed his feelings for you through a wedding dress, but it looks like you were doing everything you could to keep those same memories at bay.  

Kyohei Rikudoh

You were everything, everything that I wanted.

“Thank you and goodnight!” Kyohei takes a bow with the rest of Revance and one-by-one, they get offstage. You were there to greet them, offering them towels and water bottles.

Kyohei was the last to receive his, but before he could thank you, you turned away and started chatting with a nearby Nagito instead. It hurt him to see you act this way, but he couldn’t blame you. He’d treated you the same way not too long ago after all.

“…is true,” he overhears Nagito saying, and turns just in time to see a blush paint your cheeks. Nagito lets out a hearty laugh and musses your hair affectionately, ending with a: “Congratulations, [First].”

Kyohei was confused. Congratulations for what?

As if to answer his unspoken question, the door opens and Ritsuto walks in, but that isn’t what surprises him. It’s when his longtime rival drops a small peck on your lips and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Hey, can I have a word with [First]?” he finds himself speaking mechanically and everyone looks up at him. Kota starts to open his mouth, but Kyohei cuts him off. “Alone. And now.”

“Let them talk,” Nagito encourages at Kota’s glare, ushering the male outside. Iori and Takashi soon follow suit, and in no time, it’s just Kyohei, Ritsuto, and you. Quietly, you lean up to whisper in Ritsuto’s ear and whatever you say convinces him to leave the room, and the door shuts behind him.

“Listen [First], I know I made a mistake but-”

“Stop,” is all you say with a shake of your head. “We both agreed to let that go.”


“We’re not together anymore, okay Kyohei?” The hint of anger in your voice shuts him up. He knows you haven’t completely forgiven him – he doesn’t know if you’ll ever forgive him – but he could see you were still looking for someone who resembled him as closely as possible. He knew it must have been killing you, but if Ritsuto could save you from that hurt, then…

“The best of luck to both of you,” he musters weakly while silently cursing himself for messing up the first time.

Takashi Ninagawa

You were all the things I thought I knew, and I thought we could be.

“The lyrics don’t quite match up here…I’ll make adjustments accordingly,” you nibble the end of your pencil as you correct a mistake. “Also, the music should be a little stronger here. If we’re using backup vocals, I really want to highlight this phrase here…”

Takashi, unlike you, couldn’t focus. At least, not on the music. He was so busy staring at you that he failed to realize you’d stopped and looked up at him.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, setting your pencil down and snapping Takashi out of his trance.

“No…” he shakes his head quickly. “[First]-”

“You know, I don’t think this is going to work,” you furrow your brows and take off your headphones, making Takashi blink. “The music just doesn’t match up with the lyrics. They’re too different to be compatible. Maybe you should ask Ryo to work with you on this song instead. We haven’t been getting anywhere and the deadline is in two days.”

“No!” Takashi’s sudden shout makes you jump and he utters a low apology. “I want to do this with you. We can work it out.”

Your eyes narrow in his direction, and had he not been looking straight at you, he surely would have missed it. A dull pain begins to throb in his chest, and he’s reminded of what took place a couple of weeks ago.

“Sorry, but I really don’t think it’s a good idea trying to push our luck,” you say after a moment’s silence. “Kyohei’s going to have my head if we’re late again. I’ll call Ryo in for you.”

You’re out the door before he can protest, and he doesn’t even register Ryo when he starts shaking his shoulder. He can only think about what you just said. He knew you weren’t just talking about the music; you were also alluding to whatever potential relationship you might have with him.

You might not ever take him back, but he would never stop trying to heal the scar he placed on your heart.

Kota Igarashi

It’s nice to know you were there; thanks for acting like you cared.

“I don’t think words will be necessary here. As long as he looks into her eyes after her dialogue, the poignancy should get across,” you explain, highlighting that particular section. “It’s all in the timing.”

Kota regards you silently, wondering how you can sit in a room with him let alone talk about a script about cheating. Things supposedly went ‘back to normal’ between the two of you nearly two weeks after you caught him cheating, with the only difference being that the two of you were no longer together. Regardless, you treated him as a friend (more or less), speaking to him regularly on a daily basis, be it work-related or not.

But the topic of his cheating was never touched.

Now that you were working on this script with him, he was wondering if you’d finally snap, but it looked like you were handling it well…a little too well.  

It made him wonder…did you not feel strongly enough about him to hate him after what he did?

Those thoughts pestered him, but he never found the courage to bring up the scandal with you in fear that you would pull away from him forever. Yes, he should have been grateful that you both were still friends, but he couldn’t help but yearn for you to be his again. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed you until after-the-fact, and now that you weren’t his anymore, he really did understand how much it hurt to be on his own. He’d been waiting until, as you put it, the timing was right.

And now was the time.

“Why don’t we act it out?” he suggests, and you look up at him with no hint of uncomfortableness in your eyes.

“I suppose,” is all you say, and you both sit up to face each other, scripts in hand.

“I loved you,” Kota starts, his gaze on the script albeit having already memorized all his lines. “And I still do. Please-”

“Don’t,” you cut in, and he looks up, but you turn away. “Just…don’t.”

Kota reaches out for you, but you slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me!” you yell, and that’s his cue to cup your face and turn you enough so that you’re both eye-to-eye.

“Please just listen to me,” he starts and your eyes widen, realizing that he’s not just adlibbing, but it’s the real him speaking to you. “I love you, [First]. And I will never stop loving you. I know I wasn’t there for you, and I know I cheated on you. And I know that you’re still hurting. I know I was wrong and you probably still hate me right now but please let me in again. Give me a second ch-”

“Kota,” you place your hand over his, and he stops, hope shining in his eyes. But you smile and shake your head to give him your answer. “Thank you for everything, Kota, really.” You give his fingers a little squeeze. “I’m really grateful that we were able to spend that time together, but it’s not going to work out no matter how many chances we give ourselves. And…I don’t think I can go through that a second time.”

Kota feels his world crash down around him, finally realizing that the lines he was delivering now and the responses he was getting was how you’d felt about this ordeal the entire time.


“I told you to fix the lyrics, not write more!” Kyohei yells after skimming through the words on the page, “And I thought we agreed that the girl would be the cheater, not the guy.”

“I’m sorry,” you say for what seems to be the millionth time. “It’s just easier for me to write through my perspective…” you trail off, now knowing what else to say.

“At the very least, these aren’t bad,” Takashi pipes in, having snatched the papers from Kyohei. “Not bad at all…”

“And you got Leader’s approval on not just one, but two songs on the first try? Hell really has frozen over,” Kota comments from the side, watching Taka wander into the recording room. “But I agree. The lyrics and the script both look good. I don’t think you can really fault her this time, Kyohei.”

“I’ll admit you’re getting very creative with this,” Kyohei finally relents, “But seriously. What’s with this one? You go from relatively understanding to downright vengeful.”

“Blame it on the company I’ve been keeping!” you announce, meeting eyes with Iori, who levels your glare with one of his own.

“Are you blaming me for your mood swings?” he scowls.

“Not at all,” your voice is heavily laced with sarcasm, and he would have lunged at you had Nagito not been standing there.

“Okaaay, let’s calm down, you two,” the blonde tries to pacify, but Kota feels the need to input his own thoughts.

“Or what, Nagi?” he taunts, “You gonna burn her wedding dress?”

“I was on her side, not Iori’s!”

“Of course he’d side with the chick before us,” Iori mutters, but Kyohei overhears.

“Are you jealous that she gets more attention than you do?” Kyohei smirks, but Iori’s ready with a comeback.

“At least she doesn’t think of me as a Casanova like she does you.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

Meanwhile, you sit there, pondering how lucky you are to be able to witness their playful banter with one another, while also being able to be a part of it.

You really, really did love them.

Fic: Still Life

What’s this? An NQC fic? Me oh my! I might actually get them finished before I turn 26!

Summary: Looking to make a little extra money on the side, cash-strapped spinner and haberdasher Mr Gold agrees to be a life model for art teacher Belle French.

Rated: NC-17


Still Life

“Dad, are the pancakes done yet?”

“You can’t rush art, Bae.”

“But I’m starving!”

Gold just smiles as he pours the first batch of pancake batter into the frying pan, but he’s nowhere near as calm on the inside. Truth be told, he’s taking his time with the pancakes because he really doesn’t want to get on with the day and what comes after breakfast. He still can’t quite believe that he agreed to Belle’s proposal in the first place, but she’s Belle, and business has been worryingly quiet in the shop lately, and it’s a bit of extra cash in hand. Welcome cash in hand; Bae’s birthday is coming up and Gold is determined that his son is not going to go without after the rather tumultuous last year he’s had. When Bae’s mother had run off to Spain with her paramour, taking Bae and most of Gold’s money with her, it had taken most of the rest of his money to fight tooth and nail to get him back, and for a man as unused to fighting as Gold is, it has been an exhausting experience. Still, depleted funds aside, Bae is happily back with his father and things are looking up. All the same, Gold is still wondering how he’s going to survive the next few hours as he brings the stack of pancakes over to the table and Bae attacks them with gusto.

“Aren’t you having any, Dad?” he asks in the middle of his third when he comes to the realisation that his father isn’t eating. Gold shakes his head.

“Not hungry.”

Actually, he’s too nervous to eat, his stomach full of butterflies making him feel incredibly sick. It’s no good, he’s going to have to call Belle to cancel. It was a ridiculous idea and he’d only agreed to it in a moment of madness because apparently his brain ceases to function whenever Belle is around.

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